Matching Curtains

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

2009-11-08T11:20:41+00:00

Filmknitter and I were delighted to catch Terry Gilliam's latest movie The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus on the big screen last week and though the film is at times as messy as we've come to expect from Gilliam, with some scenes feeling a little laboured or too long, it is, on the whole, a very enjoyable experience. With the best effects and CGI utilised by its director to date, the movie is visually stunning and totally befitting of the plot's fairy tale flourishes.

The 'Imaginarium' is a magical, scruffily made mirror which forms part of Doctor Parnassus' Victorian-style travelling theatre. It grants all who walk through it entry to the landscape of their imagination - and that of Parnassus'. However, even in this wonderland the Devil is never far away, lodging in a 50s style American diner and just waiting to acquire another victim ...

Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), his daughter Valentina (Lily Cole, actually rather convincing as an actor), midget Percy (Verne Troyer, or Mini Me as we're all more likely to recognise him) and waif Anton (a munchable Andrew Garfield) live aboard the doctor's three tier charabanc and journey along the modern River Thames performing to people who are either drunk and abusive or aren't really interested. Clad in medieval- looking theatre garb, they are, it's fair to say, totally out of step with the world they inhabit. Parnassus is a bit of a Lear-style character, a former monk on the run from the Devil, played with grizzly aplomb by the imicable Tom Waits, sporting a pork pie hat and raffish tache. Parnassus, silly old fool that he is, made a pact with the Devil for immortality on the proviso that he relinquish his daughter to his nemesis upon her 16th birthday. With Valentina's birthday imminent Parnassus is desperate to save his daughter and, against the advice of the sage wee Percy, makes another bet with old Nick that the first to garner five souls will win Valentina. Will he never learn?! Enter Tony Liar (Heath Ledger), a mysterious stranger who apparently knows nothing about how he came to be found hanging by a noose over the Thames and is not what he seems. Valentina instantly falls for Tony's oily charms, much to her ardent suitor Anton's dismay, and he sets about trying to trip up his rival. Only when the pair enter the Imaginarium is Tony gradually exposed for what he is and the battle for Valetina's safety escalates.

Obviously the mainstream interest in this movie is due to Ledger's death and it is undeniably disturbing to see him hanging and taken for dead in his first scene. He showcases the same comic flair that was present in his last teaming with Gilliam, The Brothers Grimm, and we see much more of him than the press would have had us believe, as he'd shot all bar the Imaginarium scenes. However his character is more of a catalyst than central protagonist - the story is unequivocally an ensemble effort and Tony is just one manifestation of the evil Parnassus is doing battle with. In the weird other world of the Imaginarium it makes a strange kind of sense that Tony would look different as his nasty truth is exposed and it's to Gilliam's credit that it's hard to imagine the movie without Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell (in that order) taking on Tony's character whilst in there. In our first foray into the Imaginarium with Tony, masked as he was outside, I suspect most of the audience did double-takes when the mask is removed to reveal Depp, clad in the same clothing and looking rather like Ledger, dancing on lily pads - the two have remarkably similar features. When Law and then Farrall take over the part, each revealing more and more sliminess (well cast, no?!), Tony's appearance moves further and further away from the fine features of Ledger and Depp to the heavy, swarthier Farrall and this is very effective.

The Imaginarium scenes are in contrast to the mundane contemporary world outside, vibrant and Dali-esque. The individual's experience within it results in either pleasure or fear as they come face to face with the physical manifestation of their psyche. It also enhances the clash of good versus evil which defines the story. There are some truly memorable scenes: one sequence in particular features the beautiful Lily Cole in full-on Jessica Rabbit mode smashing fragments of floating glass (the entrance to the Imaginarium) against a deep black background, the ground beneath her splintering. There are also Monty Python-style sketches worked in, such as policemen singing and dancing in skirts and heels, which pepper the film with some very comical twists, but melancholy is never far away. During Depp's tenure in the Imaginarium rivers weave their way around him, Tim Burton style, with small gondolas bearing pictures of celebrities dead before their time. When he eulogises that 'They are forever young, they won’t grow old', we wonder if this is a tribute of sorts to Ledger. This might sound a bit saccharine or forced but it has the uncanny effect of slotting neatly into the film's other main theme, the weight of immortality. The burden that Parnassus is saddled with comes at great cost; in the modern world there is no place for his whimsy. Perhaps this is how Gilliam also feels about Hollywood, although at least for this movie he got a decent enough budget, something which has eluded his ambitions in the past.

Though outside events will garner a much wider interest in this collision of fantasy and mundanity than the more select crowd Gilliam normally draws, the story is - although labyrinthine - much less odd than one would think. There are winning performances all round, but it is the boyish Garfield and droll Waits who are most memorable, both playing fairy tale archetypes with a modern twist. It is too long, yes, but nonetheless entrancing. A film about the power of the imagination, to which Gilliam's original story and dexterity in working around Ledger's untimely death are perfect testament.

Fleetwood Mac - Dreams

2009-11-07T12:31:14+00:00

Happy weekend, folks. Am having a bit of a Fleetwood Mac moment (did I ever tell you I was named after Lindsey Buckingham? Yes, I know he's a man. But maybe my folks felt it would be less confusing than Stevie?!).

May the marvellous original of this classic song banish the Corrs travesty.

Fantastic Mr Fox

2009-11-04T13:42:11+00:00

This weekend I sampled the new cinema in Witney, a wee market town a few miles west of Oxford. It's about time Witney had a decent cinema and I'm pleased to report that the first movie I saw there was very enjoyable indeed.

Fantastic Mr Fox has all the hallmarks of a Wes Anderson film: dysfunctional families and their foibles, themes of being different, and a robust and unapologetic retro quality, this time courtesy of handmade, stop-motion puppetry. Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzmann and Owen Wilson - all Anderson regulars - are present and correct to greater and lesser degrees. Only this time, they're providing vocal duties to animal characters based on the wonderful Roald Dahl story of the same name. Oh what fun it is.

Starring George Clooney doing a deliciously dapper Mr Fox and Meryl Streep as the long suffering Mrs Fox, the all-star cast do a great job of bringing the characters to life, the animals' lives a furry version of reality with the titular hero doing his best to outsmart the mean farmers Boggis, Bunce and Bean, who shot his tail off and are determined to see him dead. The underfox against the Man, if you like. The farmers are all English, led by Michael Gambon as a particularly malicious Farmer Bean, whereas the animals - the good guys - are all Americans. Much has been made of this but it didn't bother me at all - how could it when the vocal performances were spot on? And there's nothing like a posh English accent to suggest the haves and haves nots ...

Fear not people, I'm not about to embark on a Marxist reading of a Roald Dahl adaptation. This movie is fun, fun, fun, garnering more laughs than any other Anderson movie. It references Ocean's Eleven, martial arts movies and most of all, Anderson's own back catalogue - my companion noted how similar it was to some of the sequences in The Life Aquatic. There are some scenes involving underground digging which echo Anderson's earlier movie strongly and the animals have the same trademark gestures as all Anderson's human creations. Simple effects carry the strongest humour, such as the apossum Kylie's zoned out eyes or Mr Fox's son Ash's pathological spitting and hunched demeanour, bitter at being 'little' (has there ever been a puppet fox who looked more like the owner of it's voice, Jason Schwartzmann?). And yet at the same time (if it's not too pretentious to say so), at the core of this movie is an existential message that you are unable to transcend your fundamental self: Mr Fox is a 'wild animal' after all.

Yes this movie is Americanised, yes it's source material is handled loosely, and yes it's fair to say it's geared more at Anderson's traditional adult audience than kids. But the gurgling chuckles of a littl'un behind me suggests there's enough slapstick and comedy to keep the youngsters happy, as well as the grown ups. And if anyone suggests any different, I can only say, in the words of Mr Fox, 'are you cussing with me?'

An absolute gem - catch it soon.

Air - Love 2

2009-10-29T18:24:19+00:00

Air released their new album Love 2 earlier this month and I'm pleased to say it's blimmin' brilliant. I grant you, that's not the most sophisticated response to an album ever - especially not when the artists are a sexy French duo who define aural elegance - but I'm not sure what I can say without descending into hyperbole. I've loved them since I was about 16 and they do what they do incredibly well; no one makes languid, come to bed music better.

Someone very clever has made a video for the track 'Heavens Light', which appears right in the middle of the albumn and is delicious. It's so pretty I was compelled to post it for you all. Don't thank me, thank Messers Godin and Dunckel.

Sublime.

This is It

2009-10-29T14:36:01+00:00

This year two films have inspired a particularly mawkish curiosity, due to the untimely deaths of their stars. The first is Terry Gilliam’s The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, starring the late Heath Ledger; the second, This Is It, the documentary footage of rehearsals for what would have been Michael Jackson’s 50 date residency at the O2 in London. It was the latter movie which Filmknitter and I ended seeing last night, despite our intentions. Still, it’s fair to say the life of Michael Jackson was nothing if not fantastical, so on that level I suppose we didn’t lose out too much …

The death of Heath Ledger was shocking and completely unexpected. By contrast, it’s fair to say that the death of the self-proclaimed King of Pop wasn’t exactly a total surprise - given the tabloid freak show he became and the tawdry tales which surrounded him, it seemed inevitable that he would meet the same fate as Elvis Presley and other deflated American Dreams, dogged by controversy and morbid media speculation.

I can’t deny I’m fascinated by the spectacle (spectre?) of Michael Jackson, so wasn’t too disappointed by the change of plan; he’s produced some of the best pop songs ever made and the yelp of euphoria in ‘Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough’ encapsulates a joy in performing which defies imitation, try as Mr Timberlake may. The image he created of himself was a media personality like no other, taking the idea of a public face to whole new levels. His Wacko Jacko persona (persona is Greek for mask, don’t forget – ironic huh?) wasn’t solely confined to bizarre newspaper stories of oxygen tents and adopting chimps; he actually re-made himself. By the early nineties Jackson was unrecognisable as the sweet little boy who captured people’s hearts when he sang with the Jackson 5. Of course, we all recall the confessional interviews – aged 10, I remember being fascinated by him as he bared his soul to Oprah about his traumatic childhood – and the denials about the extent of his plastic surgery, but it was the child abuse allegations which dogged him for the latter part of his life which were the most perplexing and disturbing. Was Jackson a harmless eccentric, a man who pined for the normal childhood he never had and who was retarded in a pre-adolescent state, unable to realise that his relationships with young boys were unhealthy irrespective of whether there was anything more sinister at work? Or was the Wacko image disguising something darker; was he an arch manipulator caught out, a man whose wealth and fame insulated him against criminal action for the most reprehensible of crimes?

Personally I am inclined to believe the former. Watching This Is It I feel validated. There was no real glimpse of the ‘man behind the mask’ (oh how impossible it is to write about Jacko without resorting to cliché), but the behaviour we did witness was infused with the naïve egotism of a child, from his complaints about the decibel levels in his ear piece to the pleas of tour director Kenny Ortega to him to hold the bar of the stage lift for safety, whilst Jackson was more eager to hear the strains of his music playing as they tested the machinery. At the same time, the documentary illustrated the sycophantic ‘yes man’ culture surrounding Jackson – this was a man who was never told ‘no’; was this lonely, I found myself wondering as I observed the damaged man-child giggle over the word ‘booty’ and heard the embarrassingly overwrought, teary Jackson tributes from his dancers? Coming from a country which invented therapy, I couldn’t help wondering why the hell he’d never had any (which had worked) beyond his often ill-advised TV interviews?

I don’t want you to think by these comments that the enterprise was designed to elicit sympathy for Jackson. Rather it seemed to want to emphasise his hands on approach to the tour, show him as a powerhouse of agility and ideas. How successful it was in achieving this is doubtful, and hardly helped by vital insights such as the comment that Jackson ‘knew his own records’ from one of his band …

As you’d expect, the whole thing was dripping with congratulatory, embarrassing praise for Jackson and there were many cloyingly sentimental moments which drew particularly English snorts of derision from the audience – typical Jackson stuff, such as the saccharine montage for Earth Song with Jacko’s Jesus complex in full mode. And even as the film started, declaring the footage to reveal Jackson’s ‘passionate gift’ to the world, I couldn’t restrain a snigger.

The documentary also strove to present its subject as fit and healthy. And granted, in spite of his cadaverous appearance Jackson still seemed fairly agile. Even if he wasn’t as swift as his dancers, he still had the moves, albeit a little dated to a contemporary audience. What couldn’t be doubted was how Jackson revelled in performance – although a supposedly sexy number with a curvaceous female dancer was excruciating to watch by dint of the absence of any chemistry at all between Jackson and his companion.

The whole thing was obviously hastily put together to try and make a hero out of Jackson – and more cynically, a fuckload of cash. As a result, it feels a little ... thin.

That's a shame given the rehearsals hinted that this would have been one helluva show, had Jackson lived to see things through. The work on the special effects looked really exciting and it’s clear that the O2 residency was designed to be the apotheosis of everything 'Michael Jackson'. Given the frail appearance of Jackson and the concerns he expressed about tiring his vocal chords, it’s easy to speculate about whether the pressure was too much for him and contributed to his increasing dependency on drugs and eventually, his death. But we’ll never know, and this movie offers no clues. We’re promised we’ll meet the man we never knew, but are kept at arms length throughout. Whilst it’s interesting enough to watch the rehearsal footage, half an hour could have been shaved off easily and the project would have lost nothing. It’s a shame we couldn’t have seen more direct footage of Jackson, but I’m sure his Estate have got that covered …

A diverting enough, if bland, offering.

Adaptation Heaven

2009-10-26T19:38:42+00:00

So straitened circumstances have mitigated against my cinema trips and CD buying (illegal downloading is bad kids ... yeah, right) - where's my loyalty to Matching Curtains you say?! There's a recession on!

Anyway, there's a lot on/coming up at the cinema at the moment which cries out to be seen in a nostalgic, whimsical kinda way. First up is Wes Anderson's stop-motion adaptation of Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr Fox. Whilst this was never my favourite Dahl (Matilda and The BFG always vied for that accolade), I am excited by the idea of Wes Anderson directing a kids story, thrilled by the idea of George Clooney voicing the titular Mr Fox -Disney's foxy Robin Hood was HOT and a rare example of my forgiving anthropomorphism, so things can only get better with the Silver Fox himself on vocal duties - and frankly overcome by my favourite popstar Mr Jarvis Cocker starring in the movie - and contributing 'Petey's Song' to the soundtrack. I will now have a brief Heat magazine-like moment (if Heatwas similarly obsessed with the gangly one) and coo over the following picture: oooh, doesn't little Albert look cute? And so much like his dad?! And one more thing ... he looks like he should be starring in a Wes Anderson film, bless his cotton socks? Jarvis, I'm available for babysitting and a drive home with you afterwards, if you're still single :-)

Anyway, before I sound too much like a scary stalker, I will move on to Spike Jonze's adaptation of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are. To be honest, the book always scared me a bit as a kid, but heck this has James Gandolfini voicing one of the Wild Things so what more can you ask for?! It seems to have the patina of melancholy I always associated with the book, but with a more adult orientation. I'm especially intrigued by the movie given it's chequered history: when test footage was leaked to mixed reactions, the movie was delayed for a year whilst Jonze continued to work on it. Will it be worth it?! I can't wait to find out. In the meantime I will content myself with listening to a track Karen O recorded for the soundtrack (Ms O is Jonze's ex, in case you were wondering where the shameless sleb gossip I began this post has disappeared to). Check out 'All Is Love', below:

Oooh, the next few weeks I'm going to be in cinema heaven!

Bat for Lashes at the O2, Oxford (8 October)

2009-10-12T17:30:47+01:00

Events preceding this gig did not bode well. I'd had a particularly hectic day at work, was feeling rather - no, very - harassed, and had forgotten I'd agreed to dine out with a friend (that'll teach me to make plans Under The Influence). Once that faux pas was out of the way I proceeded to eat a second evening meal at a restaurant near the venue, making my calorific intake that day pretty scary indeed. I think I might still be digesting all the meat nearly a week on ... We ended up somewhere which would be a vegetarian's nightmare, serving as it did chunks of meat on cocktail sticks (we should have known better really, venturing into a place called Carne). A lot of meat. How would I live this down? The gig had better be good, I told myself.

Thankfully, it was. I knew Natasha wouldn't let me down. My affection for Ms Khan is long documented on this blog and she and her new band put in a top class performance at the O2 Academy in Oxford last week. I was worried the beefier new sound would seem off-kilter with her breathy, Stevie Nicks-style vocals and am on record as saying I prefer her debut to Two Suns, but actually, the live performance of her second project rendered the whole thing way more epic and her voice is more than strong enough to compete with the swirls of sound crafted by her compatriots. Charlotte Hatherley's guitar was low enough in the mix as not to be obtrusive and the tribal beat of the drums provided the muscular pulse to Khan's pure, searching voice of the soul. Highlights included Khan waving cowbells in a witchy, beguiling fashion, flinging herself around the stage to 'Glass', and a spellbinding 'Sleep Alone'. And 'Sarah', my favourite Bat for Lashes number. All was very David Lynch and beautifully dark.

The whole performance was faultless and sounded as pristine as on CD, but whilst the purity of Khan's voice cannot be doubted I was a mite disappointed that she didn't engage more with her audience in between songs. The lack of banter was in marked contrast to the last time I saw her, when a more home-made sound typified her work and perhaps encouraged more of a conversation with her crowd. Even so, I refuse to be one of those churlish, precious sorts who suck through their teeth and demand a return to days of yore. This Bat for Lashes gig was as uplifting as I'd hoped for and more. She is a true star who is genuinely unique. And managed to lay to rest the spectres of our carnivorous feast. I think I could go gay for this woman. Watch this space :-)

Away We Go

2009-10-03T11:22:24+01:00

Don't be fooled by the Juno-style doodlings in the ad for this movie (they seem to be de rigeur in indie films at the moment, as they were also present in 500 Days of Summer). Or by Alexi Murdoch's meandering acoustic soundtrack. For all it's shuffling indie appearance, this movie has some heavy hitters behind it, written as it is by husband and wife Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida, and directed by Sam Mendes (American Beauty, Road to Perdition, etc).

I should warn you now that it's impossible to write this review without referencing Mendes' other more stagey films. Away We Go is definitely Mendes doing indie-by-numbers, yet you can tell he still can't resist giving into his naturally stylised direction. His eye for a slick shot is unmistakeable in the movie's 'road trip' sections and an airport scene has echoes of the memorable railstation scene in Revolutionary Road. But whilst Mendes just can't help but frame images beautifully, this movie is clearly a deliberate attempt to create something much less theatrical than anything he's done before. It opens with it's central couple Burt and Verona having oral sex in a messy bedroom which could be plucked from a Kevin Smith set for goodness' sake. Throughout, Mendes abides by the silent laws of indie movie-making, from the silent chapter headings to the not-quite grown up grown ups who are his central characters.

The movie's story is notable for eschewing the epic tragedy we're used to seeing from Mendes and is full of laughter and the occasional soppy moment. Burt and Verona (John Krasinski of the US version of The Office and Maya Rudolph of American staple Saturday Night Live - who, for bonus points, is also Minnie Riperton's daughter) are a very happy couple who are expecting their first baby and who are travelling across the US and Canada to find the perfect place to raise their child. Their only gripe with each other turns on the subject of marriage - he wants to, she doesn't see the point - but it appears this isn't a burning issue. Otherwise they're very content - hardly Frank and April Wheeler - but, thanks to the leads' naturalistic and comfy rapport, their perfect relationship doesn't irritate us. This in spite of the fact that as they meet various friends' families on their travels, whose attitudes and circumstances inform their decisions and highlight various (usually rather wonky) parenting styles, they could easily seem ... well ... pretty smug. It's fair to say that Krasinski and Rudolph are delightful; I didn't know Rudolph at all before this and suspect that many UK viewers will be in the same boat, but she' s really very likeable and she and her co-star are totally believeable as a couple. There are scene stealing appearances from Maggie Gyllenhall (Secretary) who was born to play a floaty, glaze-eyed hippy mum who hates strollers (that's prams, UK folk) because she doesn't see why anyone would want to 'push their baby away from them', and the always engaging Allison Janney (Juno) as a mum whose parenting is built around caustic put downs and an obsession with her boobs; cameos from Catherine O'Hara (Best in Show) and Jeff Daniels (Pleasantville) as Burt's parents are woefully shortlived however.

There's not much to say in terms of my reaction to this movie. I certainly don't think you could hate it. It's very sweet and provokes gentle chuckles and tears. It's meandering plot resolves itself rather predictably but I was glad we didn't end with the cliched climactic childbirth scene. It winds up as quietly as it begins, but somehow manages to evoke more emotion than Mendes' last project. The actors aren't desperately trying to impress their feelings upon us for the sake of acclaim and actually seem like people you might know. Ms Winslet, I think you can try too hard ... The movie's themes of growing up, families and responsibility as viewed by thirty-somethings will appeal directly to a particular demographic and I think the relaxed and understated direction is well suited to the story. It's just a shame it all felt a little too familiar. Charming, affecting, but for all its lo-fi leanings, ever so slightly obvious.

The Yellow Moon Band

2009-09-29T07:10:25+01:00

I only recently heard of this band, whose number include Mathew Priest (drummer from Dodgy - he also manages the very fun band Misty's Big Adventure BTW) and would encourage you to check them out too. Their album Travels Into Several Remote Nations of the World was released earlier this year.

I would best describe The Yellow Moon Band as psychedelic folk, but you can have a go too as I reckon they could be discussed under any number of musical banners ...

In other less lo fi news, news, can you tell who it is yet?

... It's none other than Andrew Ridgely of Wham fame! Who'da thunked it eh, etc etc?!

St Vincent

2009-09-21T19:19:47+01:00

She's an alumnus of the Polyphonic Spree, but you'd never know it from this weird and creepy video. Still, I like her. Introducing my latest musical love, St Vincent.