serious about cinema

The Edge of Heaven: Bombay Beach, American film by Alma Har’el

2012-01-31T03:32:00.000-08:00

Life on the poverty line in the American West isn’t the first subject that springs to mind when one thinks about recent American cinema. In times of recession it seems the number one public policy in Hollywood is escapism or at least some level of distraction. But with the indie set having gone all ‘dark and grim’ at this year’s Sundance festival, establishing a mood more fitting for our times, it feels appropriate to be seeing a film like Bombay Beach rearing its head from last year’s festival circuit, where it proved a surprising hit. Thankfully the film is not crushed under any weight of pitying self- importance, or indeed self-reflexive cries for social justice, it is more uniquely, a pleasant and enthralling hybrid of observance and expression, lending a fractured and washed up community a portrait defined by its beauty and people rather than its dirt and politics.

Ostensibly the film follows three very different males, who reside in Bombay Beach, a small and insular town, whose namesake is the result of a flood at the turn of the last century. Red is the first inhabitant we meet, and its looks as though he has been here the longest, a grizzled, hardened man who grew up in the dust bowls of 1930s California, red now makes ends meet by buying cigarettes tax free from an Indian reservation and selling them on. His HD face is rendered beautifully along with rest of Bombay Beach by Alma Har’el’s nuanced and often poetic camera work. Now at the tail end of his twilight years Red offers us a peek into a breed of American that the dream forgot, “Sometimes I wonder where my next meal is coming from, I’ve been like that my whole life... but I sure enjoyed it!” he confesses early on in voice over (the slight but significant touch of never interviewing people directly lends the film much of its floating, montage effect).

Next we meet Benny Parish, a young resident who has spent his life in and out of foster care, thanks mainly to his dad’s preferred hobby of blowing things up in the desert and spending some time in prison for forming dubious militias. Benny is Hyperactive and possibly bipolar, in one of the film’s many segues away from pure observance, we are shown Benny in a choreographed dance sequence (hangovers from Har’el’s successful career as a music video director), Possessing boundless energy, and an inquisitive nature, if Red is the pessimistic old guard then Benny will be the future, though what form his fate will assume is uncertain.

Perhaps optimism is best espoused by Ceejay, an ambitious black teenager who moved to the area recently form LA to escape his former community, which was dogged by gang violence and dead end opportunities. Ever hopeful of a collage football scholarship and luck in love, Ceejay forms a kind of buoyant centre in a barren and dethatched land bereft of opportunities. Which though shot through with aesthetic beauty seems rotten, especially for the young and the hopeful.

This is not a documentary in the traditional sense; its form and style lend it more palpably to perhaps the essay film, or for the Malick inclined the tone poem. Har’el’s debut feature bears the marks of her past as a photographer; she clearly has a defined and robust aesthetic, but she has also weighed in, through careful observation and surreal touches, an acute account of life on the precipice of society. Whether here by choice or circumstance the inhabitants of this failed relic to social progress are treated not with pandering condescension, or as rhetorical tools in a political back and forth, they are shown in all their colours to be simply people, which makes a change.

Bombay Beach Will be on limited release from Friday 3rd Feb.

Shock Corridor, American film by Samuel Fuller.

2011-12-01T11:58:00.001-08:00

This is a piece i wrote for whatculture.com's forgotten B&W film series, it’s not really forgotten by definitely needs to be more widely seen.

Now I realise that this film is not exactly forgotten, indeed it has just been re-released by the Criterion Collection in a lavish DVD/Blu-ray edition, but it isn’t an Easy Rider or Bonnie and Clyde, it’s not a picture that comes straight to mind when one thinks about 1960s American cinema, but it should be. Samuel Fuller’s Shock Corridor is a primitive, angst ridden allegory, fusing a noir inflected style with intense psychodrama which is still shocking and relevant today, “it has to be seen to be believed” wrote Andrew Saris in the American cinema, such a phrase is simply apt.

With a performance as smouldering as hot coals, Peter Breck plays investigative journalist Johnny Barrett, an ambitious and daring reporter with his eyes on a Pulitzer Prize. Johnny envisions his prize winning piece as an exposé on a recent murder at a local mental hospital, to get the inside track Johnny has himself committed. With a false story of sexual deviance in place Johnny enters the asylum hoping to uncover the truth, believing there to be three witnesses to the crime he must balance his investigation with the shocking and disturbing behaviour of his interviewees and of life inside.

Although Fuller has been the darling enfant terrible of cinéphiles the world over for decades, he is a director that has never been assimilated into the mainstream. His work is too much of its time to be seen as timeless, and he has the unfortunate honour of making some of his best work during the downfall of the classical studio system, which paved the way for New Hollywood movie brats like Coppola, Lucas and Scorsese, ultimately leaving him overshadowed. Though French critics have spouted of his genius since the early 50s, this American master simply does not get the attention he deserves outside of the critical establishment. If one film of his should bring him to a wider audience it is this one.

From its caustic opening moments to its unhinged crescendo of an ending Shock Corridor is a revelation. A deft combination of cutting social critique and bravura performances, it lifts the lid on American society, equating all of its ugliness: institutional racism, unfounded hyperbolic fears of invasion and unquestioned conformity, with madness. As Johnny is slowly but surely absorbed into the fabric of life inside, the inmate witnesses he questions expose him to a series of gruelling and unpleasant realties. The ‘street’ (the eponymous corridor of the film’s title) becomes a performance space for their fantasies and their delusions, a blank canvass on which to project the fears and anxieties of 1960s America. One of the most daring and shocking of these comes towards the films close as Trent (Hari Rhodes), the first black student to be admitted to an all-white southern university, has become convinced that white is superior to black. Morphed into the archetypal southern racist, Trent marches the corridor complete with Klan mask in tow, calling for the expulsion and execution of ‘niggers’, that have polluted life in a pure traditional America. It is testament to Fuller’s daring as a filmmaking that the scene still shocks, in the sanitised world of early 60s Hollywood convention, this scene sticks out like a sore thumb.

But there is more hear to recommend than a sheer distortion of convention, to view Shock Corridor today is to see a filmmaker at the height of his craft, a perfectly pitched level of melodrama and astute eye for claustrophobic composition give the film its real power, such contentious issues in the wrong hands would be rendered cumbersome and overwrought, but Fuller pitches his film perfectly. As a B-movie stylist he was innovative and incomparable, bringing an inventive frankness to bear on all of his subjects, in short he was one of the great post-war directors and is defiantly deserved of any film fans attention.

2011's Top Ten

2011-11-27T10:20:00.001-08:00

There is only so much time and there are of course several films out there that I have yet to get around to, so the following is by no means exhaustive, just a sketch of what I liked best this year.

1. The Tree of Life (Terrence Malick)

Undoubtedly one of the most involving and intense experiences I have had at the cinema in a long time. Malick’s epic meditation on the spiritual, the family and the cosmos is rendered beautifully by cinematographer Emanuel Lubezki. In a film which possesses a kaleidoscope of breathtaking images and a stirring orchestral score, there is also a down to earth, humble seriousness rendering many of its quietest moments the most revelatory.

2. The Decedents (Alexander Payne)

One of the best American filmmakers around today, Alexander Payne weaves an intricate and moving adaption of Kaui Hart Hemmings’ eponymous novel, imbuing its humanist themes with delicacy, brilliantly balancing comedy and pathos.

3. Las Acacias (Pablo Giorgelli)

A surprisingly arresting debut from Argentina, its deceptive simplicity allows for the slow burn story of two strangers on the road to morph into a poetic and moving little film.

4. We Need to Talk About Kevin (Lynne Ramsey)

Lynne Ramsey’s return to the big screen was much anticipated and worth the wait, avoiding the what, where and why of a high school massacre, Ramsey turns her attention to the killer’s relationship with Tilda Swinton as Eva, the boy’s mother. Asking difficult questions and shot in an austere way with an expressive colour palate, this is the year’s most unsettling picture and one of the most provocative.

5. Drive (Nicolas Winding Refn)

A tight, well orchestrated genre movie is lifted further by a slick intelligence, style and existential angst.

6. Cave of Forgotten Dreams (Werner Herzog)

Werner Herzog’s increasing penchant for documentary has meant him turning out some of his best work, and this is defiantly one of his best non-fiction films, and easily the best 3D film yet.

7. Weekend (Andrew Haigh)

As fine a romance as I have encountered in recent cinema, this well played and directed British indie is shot through with a joyous lust for life.

8. Tinker Tailor, Solider spy (Tomas Alfredson)

An atmospheric, dusty and ultimately thrilling adaption of La Carré’s cold war caper, a wordy, grownup tale of deception and detective work with a tremendous central performance from Gary Oldman

9. Melancholia (Lars Von Trier)

If Von Trier can be accused of anything it is that he never makes a dull film, whether it’s the formal experiments of Dogville or the lunacy of Antichrist he keeps you on your toes. With his latest he doesn’t disappoint, fusing the story of two sisters into a brilliant, tedious, audacious and uneven film which is ultimately a rich and rewarding experience.

10. The Ides of March (George Clooney)

Further proof that Clooney has some considerable talent behind the camera, the whipped up story of party political electioneering is short, smart and intelligently handled.

Special mentions go to two TV programmes Todd Haynes’ epic adaption of Mildred Peirce and the equally grandiose All Watched over by Machines of Loving Grace by Adam Curtis. Cinematically to Midnight in paris and Rise of the Planet of the Apes.

Las Acacias Argentinean film By Pablo Giorgelli

2011-11-06T09:31:00.000-08:00

‘Slow cinema’ has been around for a long time, from King Vidor to Ingmar Bergman, the use of the long take has served several purposes from the sublime to the philosophical, from the mediocre to the downright awful ( I am thinking here precisely of Vincent Gallo’s terrible the Brown Bunny from 2003). Of recent however the style of long takes, natural location and minimal dialogue is back in vogue. Filmmakers like Kelly Reichardt, Gus Van Sant, Bélla Tarr, Alexandr Sokurov and Apichatpong Weerasethakul are perhaps the most notable and popular of the contemporary slow cinema producers. With the success of his debut film Las Acacias Pablo Giorgelli should be added to that list.

A simple and emotionally beguiling road movie is the framework for Las Acacias, Rubén ( played with intensity by Germán de Silva) is a lonely long haul truck driver, he is about to set off on the long journey from Asunción del Paraguay to Buenos Aires. Rubén is joined by Jacinta, who has paid a steep fee to be taken across the border so she may visit her cousin and work in the Argentine capital. There is little to virtually no conversation between the two of them as they slowly but surely make their way from truck stop to roadside cafe on the long, seemingly endless journey across the barren, evocative plains of South America.

Minimalism as a style in the cinema can be decisively bland or stirring, with Las Acacias Giorgelli has produced a film of the latter quality. This is a picture which lulls you into its meditative world, as the embers of a relationship between Rubén and Jacinta are stoked and prodded into life. The two gradually begin to talk; Lucinda’s eight month old daughter who is accompanying them becomes a major point of contact, bringing Rubén out of his prickly shell. In one of the film’s most tentative moments, Rubén, alone with the baby, hushes it from crying, bringing a warmth and humanity to his until now cold machismo exterior.

This is an assured and poetic film, which posses the maturity of a filmmaker well beyond their debut feature, its simple tale has tinges of loss and longing but builds to an overwhelming sense of hope. If Giorgelli continues down the road of slow cinema it will serve him well and serve us with some cinematic gems in years to come.

Las Acacia will be released in the UK on December 2nd

Zombie Nation

2011-10-27T13:07:00.000-07:00

The following is an article I wrote recently for www.whatculture.com for their 31 days of horror series.

Every film genre has its benchmark moments, game changing films which cause a seismic shift of re-evaluation, altering the way the films of that genre are produced and thought about from then on: Sci-fi has Metropolis (1927) and Star Wars (1977) (though many will argue that George Lucas’ space opera had ramifications well beyond genre cinema); the musical had 42^nd Street (1933), Singin’ In the rain (1952) and Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). However the horror genre can probably lay claim to more twists and turns than any other, but its most challenging, rewarding and downright devastating gift to us is George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead from 1968.

The massing ghouls

As much as I would hope this does not turn into a gushing eulogy (though I fear it might) I must make clear my bias - to my mind Night of the Living Dead is not only one of the great American films but one of the greatest films ever made. This may sound controversial but I hope to justify my claim in the following examination of its place within the genre, and its reaction to the turbulent times of its conception.

Beyond the film’s brilliant ability to scare the pants off viewers lie the core reasons as to why I believe it to be a masterpiece; unlike any horror film to come before, it comes preloaded with a deliberate and cutting socio-political critique, directly engaging with the far from irrational fears and concerns of the time. So often horror films are seen as reactions to the anxieties of their times, the jagged, mentally unstable images of German expressionism are often read as an allegorical reaction of the horrors of WWI, while the paranoia inflected invasion films of the 1950s. most notably Don Siegel’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956), purportedly tell of the fears surrounding McCarthyism, communism and the cold war. Distinctly the film Night, is a product of its politically aware times, Romero later commented that the tumultuous times found their way into the picture as a result of the atmosphere on the set, discussions and debates about what was happening in their country. In short Romero attests “it was the sixties.” With Night Romero had not just invented the modern zombie movie but a new breed of astute, socially and politically aware horror films, sparking a golden age for the genre in the 1970s.

A potent examination of the times

At its most base level this is a truly terrifying, inventive and truly bleak horror film. The deceptively simply tale begins with Barbara (Judith O’Dea) and her brother Johnny (Russell Streiner) visiting their mother’s grave in a secluded cemetery in rural Pennsylvania . Shot in grainy stock, of a vérité style, we are given no breathing space as almost immediately Johnny is attacked by an unknown assailant. Johnny is knocked unconscious by the lumbering attacker, who then sets his sights on Barbara, pursuing her in an agonisingly drawn out chase to an isolated farm house, where hiding she discovers the half eaten corpse of (presumably) the house’s owner. Fleeing in fright Barbara finds that a group of people similar to her attackers have menacingly gathered outside, advancing slowly but inevitably towards the house, but in a flash our key protagonist Ben (Duane Jones) arrives and gets Barbara back into the house barricading them in. We soon discover there are others hiding out in the house as well, a family: Harry and Helen Cooper (Karl Hardman and Carolyn Eastman) with their daughter Karen (Kyra Schon), who has been badly bitten by one of the marauding creatures, and teenage couple Tom and Judy (Keith Wayne and Judith Ridley). From here Romero restricts the film to this house with fleeting glimpses of the creatures outside, it becomes less a creature feature in the vein of Universal’s monster cycle of the 1930s, and more a tightly orchestrated siege thriller akin to Howard Hawk’s Rio Bravo (1959). It is a wholly unsettling mixture of gore and tension unlike anything seen before in the horror genre, Romero situates terror as far from the European traditions of Dracula and Frankenstein, and the threats from outer space that pervaded genre films of the 1950s, taking the monstrous and locating it in the backyard of American everyday life. Though this uprooting of traditional setting was pioneered by Hitchcock in 1960’s Psycho, Romero here brings an unflinching realism and pioneering penchant for unadulterated and gruesome special effects, removing any trace of gloss and glamour, any stars and any comfortable resolution to allow the audience a comfortable night’s sleep.

The casting of Duane Jones as the film’s lead was a revelation in itself- although the prominence of Sidney Poitier had meant black actors were becoming a more common sight on the silver screen, it was still relatively unheard of at the time. But while Poitier’s work had themes of racial injustice at its core, they were never so blatant in their condemnation of racial prejudice; perhaps the scariest thing about the film is not the flesh eating ghouls but the relentlessly vicious rednecks and their feral looking attack dogs. The film’s powerful ending, unmatched by anything else in horror before or since, is one of the most heartbreaking and affecting both in its stark brevity and potent political message. When discussing the film’s political aspects this is, quite rightly, an area of major focus, civil rights is defiantly at the top of the film’s agenda, but there are plenty more playful comments on the time found in the film.

Duane Jones as the dommed Ben

One of the film’s best set pieces comes late on, Karen’s bite has incurred spontaneous transformation into a zombie, when her mother Helen come in to check on her she is mercilessly dispatched by Karen with a rusty trowel, she consumes her with a dead blank stare on her face. Romero would later comment on the subtext of the scene, that it reflected the youth movement of the time, he became obsessed with idea of a new generation “devouring the old”, a reflection of the times, and of one of the most un-discussed elements of Romero’s work, his love of black comedy. Beyond this the film has gone on to be interpreted as allegory for the Vietnam War, and an examination into the collapse of the patriarchal nuclear family, the strongest relic of conformist 1950s society.

One could continue pontificating and musing over this densely packed and rich work of Horror cinema and indeed some have, but I will only highly recommend this film as the ultimate choice for your Halloween night’s viewing. It spawned a great many imitators and some terrible reinterpretations, but if you want a genius, visceral fusion of relentless horror and artistic ambition, then look no further than the original and the best.

LFF: The Ides of March, American film by George Clooney

2011-10-19T16:17:00.000-07:00

I have been popping up and down to the 55th London film festival, and over the next two weeks will be posting some reviews from what has been on offer, first up its George Clooney’s latest outing in the director’s chair.

George Clooney has proved that beyond his considerable talent on screen in the past fifteen years he makes a pretty dam good director as well. For my money his last effort behind the camera, Goodnight and Good Luck, was one of the finest American films of the decade. His style here is further cemented and pared down, resulting in a taught and cold examination of the muddy waters of U.S party politics. Adapted from Beau Willimon’s 2008 play Farragut North (which itself is loosely based on the failed primary campaign of Howard Dean), The Ides of March seems less a state of the nation piece and more a morality play, examining the effacing selfishness of the power hungry, their backroom dealings and flippant shifts between loyalty and disloyalty for personal gain. Of course one of the most apt arenas in which to set such an elucidation is a U.S presidential campaign.
Like his previous work Clooney takes on a supporting but crucial role as presidential candidate hopeful governor Mike Morris. Morris is a left-leaning democrat with all the chutzpah and iconography of Obama’s 2008 electioneering, the film follows Morris and his team as they attempt to gain the support of the state of Ohio against a rival candidate Ted Pullman (Michael Mantell), which would seal the presidential nomination. Our main focus however is the young, talented and slightly naive Steven Meyer (Ryan Gosling, in what no doubt will be one of the film’s many Oscar nods), Meyer is driven by his belief in Morris as the right man for the job, as a junior campaign manager Steven answers to his superior, the old school, acid tongued Paul Zara (brilliantly portrayed by the ever flawless Phillip Seymour Hoffman), Zara’s counterpart on the Pullman bench is Paul Giamatti as the equally well versed Tom Duffy, and almost from the off Steven is in a political tussle between the two. Duffy is trying to convince Steven to jump ship claiming that the democrats never get anything done because “they are afraid to get in the mud with the elephants”, such wit and abrasive humour is found throughout the script, but Steven refuses outright, this short meeting towards the beginning of the picture has drastic consequences and forms the underlying crux of the drama.
As a background to the games of political one-upmanship Steven has started seeing Molly Stearns (Evan Rachel Wood), an ambitious twenty year old intern, who herself holds another devastating secret, putting further weight onto the Steven’s shoulders, sowing the seeds of cynicism. What follows is a tightly orchestrated and acutely observed hybrid of political drama and thriller, lines are crossed redrawn and crossed again, little of the business of politics in the film is ever conducted as straight, to make an impact everyone has to make deals. In the hands of Clooney as director and the rest of his cast this becomes an actor’s film, Clooney pulls off the rhetoric of a sound bite politician with ease and grace, Gosling, while better in darker more brooding roles, charts the uneasy awakening of Steven into the world of cutthroat politics. But the real scene stealers are Seymour Hoffman and Giamatti as the jaded political dinosaurs, all consumed by their respective hunger for power but with a distinct understanding of its costs. Behind the camera Clooney has developed a penchant for distinctive and effective use of close ups and shadowy staging, meetings in darkened stairwells and backrooms heighten the sense of unease, ultimately the film may well be attacked for possessing a cynical tone, but for me this is less an attack on the institution of party politics than an astute analysis of the seductive and corruptive allure of power.
The Ides of March goes on general release in the UK on the 28th of October

Recent Releases: The Greatest Movie Ever Sold, American Film By Morgan Spurlock

2011-10-18T04:55:00.001-07:00

From one type of provocateur to another. Morgan Spurlock, famous for his complete disregard of personal health by binging on McDonald’s and filming the consequences is back, with a film funded by and about product placement. Pom Wonderful Presents The Greatest Movie Ever Sold, to give the film its full title, is an entertaining if light-hearted look at the largely unregulated world of product placement. Starting with a brief historical overview and examination of how it has grown up to be a billion dollar industry, Spurlock starts promisingly, but the majority of the running time is fleshed out by roaming around the country trying to drum up business from all manner of product and service companies. From the idiosyncratic Maine and Tail horse shampoo to household names like Old Navy and Ted baker.
Spurlock is, in documentary terms at least, is a bit of light relief in comparison the overarching tone of filmmakers like Michael Moore, whose self interested proclamations often leaves one feeling cold and disinterested. His happy-go-lucky approach is endearing but may also be why he fails to ever really get under the skin of his subject. Not that The greatest Movie Ever Sold is completely uninterested on delving deeper into the subject of advertising or public relations, there are a few talking heads with interesting things to say (notably Noam Chomsky and Outkast’s Big Boi), but Spurlock seems less interested in telling the history or figuring out how this all fits into our marketed society in a broader sense. So in effect for the majority Spurlock winds up fronting a film school 101 in how to get a film funded independently through the sole backing of product placement. Following Spurlock around trying to charm money out of big corporations makes for an enjoyable hour and a half, but lacks the central drive and campaigning effort which made Super Size Me both entertaining and enlightening.

Recent releases: Melancholia Danish film by Lars Von Trier

2011-10-17T09:44:00.000-07:00

I will be making up for the distinct lack of activity on this blog by posting a relative bounty in the coming days and weeks. The majority of this will be reports from this year’s London film festival, with reviews of George Clooney’s The Ides Of March, Alexander Payne’s The Descendents and some of the smaller films the festival has to offer. But for now here is a brief look at a couple of recent releases at the UK box office. First up is Lars Von Trier’s apocalyptic drama Melancholia.
Often heralded as the ultimate marmite director, I have never been a fully convinced either way as to Von Trier’s genius or indeed as some say his fraudulence as a filmmaker. To my mind he has made some fantastically compelling and audacious work (The Idiots, Europa even Antichrist) and some less convincing films (Dancer in the dark), I will definitely be filing Melancholia under the later, ambitious but off target.

Kicking off with a superbly realised otherworldly opening of operatic slow motion, which sets the film’s tone and indeed shows us how it will come to an end, the film then splits into two distinct parts ‘Justine’ and ‘Claire’ named after the two sisters at the heart of the film. Kirstin Dunst plays Justine who’s luxurious wedding forms the film’s first act, it becomes quite clear from the off that she suffers from violent mood swings characteristic of manic depression. Her wedding is an equal mixture of opulence and awkwardness as the proceedings become frequently interrupted by Justine and Claire’s mother (played brilliantly by Charlotte Rampling), a bitter divorcee not afraid to publicly denounce the sacred vows her daughter has just committed to. Von Trier and Dunst make it clear from the first hour that the entire film will be dominated by Justine, as her illness intensifies and takes on the metaphorical qualities of a planet called Melancholia set for an inevitable collision with the earth. The second part, set presumably after the wedding, has Justine Visit her Headstrong but ultimately fragile sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), her husband John ( a seemingly out of place Kiefer Sutherland) and their young son Leo (Cameron Spurr), as the planet slowly makes its way towards the earth with a dreadful sense of foreboding, which Claire embodies.

Of course this being a Lars Von Trier film any associations with that Hollywood stalwart the disaster movie are left behind at the door to the theatre, the temptation of intergalactic collision to mutate itself into potent allegory is all consuming here, and overrides any temptations to allude to any genre conventions. In other words this is serious film which takes itself seriously. The interior world of Justine’s disturbed mental state manifest themselves in some peculiar, cliché and sometimes haunting ways; whether this be nipping off halfway through the reception to have sex on a golf green with a younger man she has just met, arranging art books frantically in the library to show classic paintings which seemingly describe her state, or to bathe majestically naked in the blue light of Melancholia, a bold compositional choice by Von Trier which echoes Millais portrait of the equally doomed Ophelia. Partner all this with the strained chords of Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde and you have an opening act heavy on symbolism and self-deprecation (Von Trier has talked openly about his own battles with depression), which ultimately pales in comparison to the more reserved second section.
Justine is still the driving force of part two but takes a back seat to Claire who becomes consumed by her own anxieties over the fate of her family and the earth. We are in the same castle as the wedding isolated from the outside world, the illness of Justine seems to spread and infect the entire world of the film. Gainsbourg is utterly convincing as a dishevelled and traumatised Claire, adding potency to the inevitable climax of a film which has powerful moments interspersed with sections of anguish and tedium, a summation in fact of Von Trier’s filmic output. Love him or loath him he remains one the great provocateurs of contemporary cinema.

Drive, American film by Nicolas Winding Refn

2011-10-04T05:41:00.000-07:00

Danish born filmmaker Nicolas Winding Refn has caved a commendable career for himself making films with violent males at their core. Bronson, his savage biopic of the eponymous Charles, was a deftly realised portrait of life inside the mind of one of Britain’s most notorious men behind bars. The film was stolen by Tom Hardy in the title role literally tearing the scenery apart. A seriously good genre filmmaker (as demonstrated by his Danish set Pusher trilogy), Refn now turns his attention to an atypical American subject with Drive, for which he took the top director prize at Cannes.It also stars one of the best young actors working today, Ryan Gosling with a performance at the polar opposite of the scale to Hardy’s Bronson, but in a film smouldering with slick brilliance.
Gosling plays an unnamed man who seems to split his personal and professional life between fixing cars, driving them for Hollywood movies and as a getaway driver for local thieves. He strikes up a tentative relationship with his neighbour Irene, played by Carey Mulligan, but things remain far from placid when her husband Standard (Oscar Issacs) returns home from Prison in debt to the mob for protection money. At which point the film shifts from being an acutely observed character study in the vein of Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, to a tight heist thriller which Refn moulds and shapes into a world of immorality, more indebted to the bleak west of Anthony Mann than Steve McQueen in Bullitt. Standard is in deep debt to the mob, in a hope to be rid of them forever he hatches a plan for one last job with the unnamed hero ridding getaway. The robbery turns sour though and the driver along with accomplice Bonnie, played by Mad Men’s Christina Hendricks must flee, and do so in a spectacular fashion.
The most striking thing about Drive other than Refn’s astute economy of style and Gosling’s brooding performance is its playful attitude towards genres. Less a pastiche but more of transplantation of the western in which the (anti) hero’s trusty steed is replaced with a suped up muscle car, and the grand vistas of Ford’s Monument valley are updated to the urban sprawl of LA. In the wrong hands this would be rendered just another action vehicle, but partnered with Gosling’s driver’s existential angst, Refn clearly aspires to tap into the mythologies of masculinity and violence present in American history, not unlike the infamous director of modernist westerns Sam Peckinpah. Like Peckinpah Refn has a created a kinetic fusion of violence, music and archetype, which surmounts to one of the year’s best films.

Howl, American film by Rob Epstein and Jeffery Friedman

2011-03-28T08:35:00.000-07:00

Allen Ginsburg iconic Howl is considered one of the magnum opuses of the beat generation, a loosely defined group of poets and authors, who in the late 1950s and 60s defined a generation of young despondent, angst ridden outsiders, bohemians and intellectuals. Through their rejection of material culture, and embrace of drugs and open sexual experimentation, the beats were idealised as the ultimate subversives in American culture.
Howl Rob Epstein and Jerry Friedman’s well-crafted, if brief, experimental film takes the revolutionary poem and its writer and fragments them into three non-linier story arcs: Ginsberg’s early life and first public reading of Howl shot in sharp monochrome, whirling and spontaneous animations narrated by another reading of the poem and, in colour, the obscenity trial the work faced in 1957. James Franco plays Ginsberg, a writer himself having recently published a book of his own short stories, and he pulls off an engaging, subtle impersonation of the man himself. The qusai- confessional interview with an unseen journalist is the film’s most compelling insight into his inspiration and writing philosophy, but it is overshadowed by Franco’s beautiful and moving performance of the poem’s footnote in the final scenes.
For those new to the work there is much here to delight in. The sharp attention to period detail rivals that of Mad men (Jon Ham appears as the publisher’s defence lawyer in the trial scenes), and the intercut animation scenes evoke the poem’s sense of time, place and erratic bebop style. The closing moments of the trial are
quietly riveting; John Ham’s closing speech as defence attorney Jake Ehrilch is delivered with the kind of serious grandeur that could make him an ideal fictional president. For paid up members of the Ginsberg fan club though, the film may feel a little light on the ground, while eschewing the more conventional biopic formalities is commendable, in places the film’s more experimental tendencies fall flat. The animated segments look pretty but they ultimately fail to get under the skin of this dense and rewarding poem, and at times feel a bit like filler. But it would be contrary to pick at the film as a reading or interpretation of the poem; Epstein and Friedman have made a film in adulation of the work and its author, an excited and impassioned ode, which though far from flawless will make you want to up a copy of Howl and see what all the fuss was about.

The recent ‘cinema of spectacle’; or how I love the Duke’s

2010-03-26T09:40:00.000-07:00

Now please don’t see this as some form of inherent cinematic snobbery, a sort of holy than thou cinéphile rant, but I think I might loathe multiplexes, not necessarily all the films they show, (I love a bit of schlock as much as you’re average Cineworld patron, seeing Shutter island last night (which prompted this article), a plethora of pastiche and brilliance.) but it is this new rehash, specifically, that Hollywood has going on at the moment: 3D.
We go in, sit down in terrible seats (two rows from the front), almost every advert is out of focus, not that it matters we’re too dam close, pointless complaining though it not as if we can move, it’s packed. Then the trailers come, three or four of them, they wash over us in ten minutes or so of headache inducing nonsense, Clash of Titans taking the prize for looking like absolute sheer crap. There was something else about dragons, and a bizarre (non-3d) buddy cop film about repossessing organs, with Hamlet and Ida Amin both having presumably been raised from the dead to harvest hearts, livers and lungs from the great unwashed. Though god knows why, the trailer certainly didn’t shed any light.
I’ve seen James Cameron’s Avatar and as far as I can tell it is not the future of cinema, but an overlong, poorly written farce. Sure it looks great, but that is about it. If the future of this great art form is one based on all style and no substance then count me out. This is why for many years now I have attempted, when possible, to frequent my local art house theatre. It is there where I saw the work of filmmakers that are rightly considered in many critical circles as the leading lights of world cinema: Haneke, Von Trier, and Ozon from Europe. Alternative independents and enfant terriblés in the studio system: Van -Sant, Anderson (both Paul and Wes), it also brought films from the rest of the world the Romanian and Iranian new wave etc etc. Time waits for no man, there is so much more to see than the latest uninspired romanticcomedyactiondramathriller, and if we are looking for quality in our filmic diet then we need to look further than the listings of our local multiplex.
It’s alright for me, based in Brighton, served by one of the best art house cinemas in the country, The dukes of York’s, one of the oldest purpose built cinemas in England. Boasting a programme of old and new films, (more or less acquiring the latest art-house and alternative pictures on the day of release.) with workshops, anniversary screenings and talks all making it a key ingredient in Brighton’s melting pot of film culture. Back home I have the local Poole arts centre, which gets most of the big name small release films from about two to eight weeks after initial outings in the bigger art-house cinemas.
It’s a shame that every town cannot have small dedicated cinemas like these; it is in fact a travesty that the big multiplexes simply do not give the smaller releases the time of day. Assuming there to be no audience for them, some sort of hierarchy of Hollywood fodder is dominating every screen (ten to twenty in most of your average), surely by a law of average there is at least a few people wanting to see art house smashes like A prophet or Four months three weeks and two days, and no it is not good enough for certain Odeon’s and Empire’s to put out one screening of A serious man the very same week it is released on DVD. These companies have the money to allow for a screening or two of small films in the week of release or maybe shortly after. Cinema receipts are up, and Avatar has become the highest grossing film of all time, a climate that should allow for a little leeway on the monopoly. What distribution needs in this country is more democracy; the big boys need to understand that though they make the big money. Hollywood productions do not have to present themselves five or six times a day on a myriad of screens, mix it up a bit through some Bergman in with your Bruckheimer some Renoir with your Richie, seriously there isn’t and excuse!

Much much more than your average prison drama; A Prophet, French film by Jacques Audiard

2010-01-27T11:03:00.000-08:00

A Prophet has closed the decade fantastically and ended a strong, but not great decade for French cinema. Under the guise of a taught and claustrophobic prison drama, Audirad has weaved a brilliantly complex tale, taking on bigger and bolder questions than your average genre picture.
Treading the balance between thriller and redemptive almost metaphysical rights of passage, we follow brand new inmate Malik, imprisoned for an unmentioned crime. As he becomes indoctrinated into life on the inside, he must make quick decisions about his future. The film contains perhaps some of the most visceral and disturbing scenes of realist violence seen on the screen in some time. Almost immediately Malik is tied into a deal with the head of the Corsican sect within the prison. He must assassinate a snitch within the prison through means of grizzly seduction and execution, or they will kill him. The scenes of Malik practising to conceal a razorblade in his mouth are truly uncomfortable, possessing a sense for realism that makes the scene extremely hard to watch; spiting blood into a dingy sink and acute expressions of pain on his face. The nerve-racking murder itself is truly something to behold.
Thus begins Malik’s ascension of the criminal ladder, in the two hours that follow one could not be anything but fully immersed into Malik’s world; taking days out to run crime errands and developing relationships outside the Corsicans, building his own empire, to be more specific would ruin the intrinsic and subtle design of Audiard’s plot.
As the film builds and develops, it takes on critiques and insights into the politics of the contemporary French penal system, becomes a razor sharp tension filled thriller, and attains an almost transcendental spiritual quality, lending the film its title. It is a piece of work that will give you what you put into it, a superbly paced thriller but at the same time intellectual brain food, a blank canvass for the viewer to paint upon whatever picture they want, similar to the prison itself a place where Malik has to make choices, that all the time will inform his uncertain future.

Best of 2009

2009-12-23T12:19:00.000-08:00

5.Antichrist (Lars Von Trier): Here purely for its startling effect and manipulation, a sheer head-fuck of a film. An artist’s breakdown? Or a depraved and disgusting piece of cinema parading in an art house gown? Either way it has to be seen to be believed.

4.In the loop (Armando Innucci): A rip roaring tour de force in political satire from the creators of brilliant TV series The think of it, Peter Capaldi shines as the fast talking foul mouthed spin doctor, as the US and UK government decide whether or not to go to war in the middle east.

3.Up (Pete Docter and Bob Peterson): The best Pixar film since Toy story 2 is found in a heart rendering tale of a widowed man and his journey to move his home, accompanied by a plucky little boy scout just looking for adventure. Beautifully realised with the most stunning CGI animation seen to date (though the 3d added little), a brilliant heart breaking little film.

2.Inglorious bastards : (Quentin Tarantino) Easily the years biggest surprise, after a run of solid duds, I was surprised by just how much I liked this film. Back on solid ground, Tarantino goes back to the drawing board of cinema history for inspiration as far afield as Truffaut, Ford and some Leone thrown in for good measure.

1.The white ribbon (Michael Haneke) : Not his best film though certainly a masterpiece in its own right, a reminder of the power of cinema in a year dominated by empty 3d farces, see below for a full appreciation.

Special mentiosn go to The class and Wendy and lucy, because they strictly fall under last year both would have ranked highly in the top five.

Of course it would appear there are glaring omissions from this list, much fêted pictures such as The hurt locker, 35 shots of rum, Sleep furiously and pre-release screening of The road and A prophet were missed regrettably, but you can’t see everything!

Michael you’ve done it again, The white ribbon (das weisse band); German film by Michael Haneke

2009-12-23T07:30:00.000-08:00

Is there an evil inherent in all of us? Many writers, philosophers and indeed filmmakers seem to think so; there is tug of war between a moral and just existence and a world where chaos reigns supreme, regardless of consequence. In Michael Haneke’s new film, we are shown the seeds of evil being sewn into a rural northern German community just before world war one, their existence, toiling away under a feudal system of land ownership and trying as well as they can to lead respectable lives, inscribed by a doctrine of god fearing traditional values is slowly undermined, chipped away, by a series of accidents progressively escalating in their severity and barbarism.
Though this is not Haneke’s masterpiece (that accolade still sits with 2005’s Caché ), it is far and away the best film of the year, his sombre contemplation and stately composition left me feeling that this is nothing but a masterpiece of modern European cinema, and cements, for me, Haneke’s reputation as one of the greatest filmmakers alive today.
The austerity of The white ribbon can be attributed to the honing of Haneke’s style in his twenty years as a feature film maker, his sharp monochrome presents to us a world, envisioned with unflinching period detail and a sharp eye for historical context. We get a true sense of life in this small pastoral village where everyone has a role to play in a self-contained society. The accidents begin form the off as the community doctor is tripped on his horse by a seemingly invisible length of wire strung between two trees on his land as he returns home, the happenings escalate from here becoming progressively sinister; a baby develops a near fatal fever as his bedroom window is opened by an unknown assailant, the baron’s son is tied up and lashed, crops are destroyed and a barn is torched to the ground. These a but a few of the acts committed in the film, interestingly (this is Haneke after all) this is less a detective story or mystery than it is a horror film, many people recalling Wolf Rilla’s 1960 film The village of the dammed, and yes to some extent lots of eerie blond children and strange goings on do encourage one to think this a creepy film, but there is a lot more going on here.
As always Haneke doesn’t really want us to solve the riddle, but to indulge in the themes it is presenting, the story is merely a provocative vehicle for the discussion of the bigger issues at play. Further adding to Haneke’s realistic envisioning of this world are seminal acting turns from Christian Friedel as the local school teacher, and Ernst Jacobi as his bride to be, providing the film with a little light relief in the form of tenderness and often awkward humour of their courting. Try a little tenderness though he might Haneke is never too keen to detract from the overarching story, and intercuts these scenes of innocence with the horrors of the ‘accidents’. There is something unnerving even in his pacing, opting for a slow burning hourglass feel as we witness things becoming gradually worse.
This is far from a comfortable experience, often wishing his audience a “disturbing evening” before screenings of his films at festivals, Haneke here is presenting us with a tough and uncompromising vision of repression and hardship, with no score and a flat, effacing almost Bressonion style this makes for a difficult film but a deeply necessary one.

Harry Brown, British film, Directed by Daniel Barber.

2009-11-10T04:04:00.000-08:00

With his first feature film and possibly Michael Caine’s last, Daniel barber has created a sloppy and morally questionable work, a film which if I wasn’t reviewing could have possibly walked out of.

We follow a moribund and morose Harry (Caine), and observe his monotonous daily routine; breakfast, visits to his ailing wife at the hospital and quiet chess games in the pub with close friend, and only other contact Leonard (David Bradley). Harry lives on council estate in London, and a pleasant is certainly what it is not. Barber spares no time in presenting us with a wealth of hardened stereotypical “hoodies” and teenage gangs, showing us the worst this generation has to offer, with no regard to context or social comment, these are merely a representation of how the world sees the inhabitants of down trodden council estates. There is no attempt throughout the film to question why the gangs of children behave this way and do these things; it would appear to Barber they are not human beings just inherently evil killing machines, hell-bent on destruction.

This is glaringly one of the film’s main faults, and it is this unsympathetic and squalid view of the characters that pervades the film, only Harry and his older generation seem to have it “right”. Upon the death of his wife (whether she was killed in relation to the happenings on the estate is unclear.) and the subsequent brutal murder of Leonard, Harry is not about to remain placid and begins a trail of bloody revenge. First up are the local drug pushers. In possibly the most unnecessary scene in the film, we are shown the dealers’ drug den, it is kitted out well; Barber has paid intricate attention to detail, and his washed out colour scheme seen throughout does lend the film a sense of noir like menace. But this subtlety quickly gives way to a brash and confusing heavy handedness; finding the two characters above and beyond the remit for a seedy drug dealer, Harry enters with the proposition of buying a gun, he is lead through to a room where the TV shows the main dealer raping the unconscious body of his girlfriend (Term applied loosely.), Harry is offered a “go” on her for fifty pounds. To me at least, this along with a lot of the films seemingly verité scenes go too far, the depiction of the estate in a realist vein is fair enough, but the introduction of rape, teenage male and under age prostitution are deeply unnecessary, and a misguided attempt at some sort of social commentary that would do nothing for any party involved.

The only people that get off lightly in this predictable and unwieldy farce are the police, presented as quick to help everyone, except of course the teenagers on the estate, coming to hand with faint praise for now infamous vigilante pensioner Harry. A misguided and often woefully misjudged piece of filmmaking.

Jesus, I'm Parched. Thirst, South Korean film by Park Chan-Wook, 133mins.

2009-10-20T05:51:00.000-07:00

South Korean Director Park Chan-wook shot onto the world cinema stage with the middle part of his revenge trilogy Old boy (2003), winning the grand jury prize at Cannes, and provoking awe and outrage with it and all of his films to date. It looks as if the story is not set to change with the release of Thirst, fresh from Cannes with a second jury prize for Park.
Let us not beat around the bush park is an oddball filmmaker, a true eccentric in the vein of Georges Franju or David lynch, and although this is at times a powerful film with grand set pieces and stunning visuals, the film more often than not falls flat, succumbing to its bemusing plot and self perpetuating weirdness. We follow Father Sang-hyeon (Kang Ho-song) on a missionary trip to Europe, where he wants to help in the desperate attempts to cure the deadly EV virus; he is infected with a strain and used as a guinea pig for attempted cures. So far so realistic, but upon a blood transfusion Sang is cured but unluckily for him has been given vampire blood, and is now cursed to live of the blood of humans. Much dark humour is derided from this by Park, as Sang attempts to gather his feed through ethical means i.e. not killing, namely stealing form comatose patients at the local hospital he works, reading people their last rights and then drinking their blood. Kang So-Song gives a good turn as the morally in limbo Priest/vampire, possessing a chilly melancholy that is unfortunately the only creepy thing about this film.
Horror is defiantly where Park misses the mark, it does not stand up to this year’s other vampire film of note Let the right on in. Lacking both the suspense and tone, to create anything near the eerie atmosphere of its Swedish counterpart. As the film progresses the weirdness is turned up, with Sang quitting the order and becoming romantically involved with Tae-joo, a young seamstress with a taste for sado masochism and a truly bizarre family to match. all of whom become integral to Park’s increasingly trying plot, the religious connotations that made the first half interesting are forgotten replaced with dull and tiresome sex scenes.
An interesting premise, but Thirst lacks the things that made films of his like old boy so great, he has left out his philosophical back bone that made for an interesting film. Sure it looks great, has alright acting and good intentions, but it falls flat on its face in the second half, giving in to a absurd story and a heavy handing ending.

A Man From Abroad

2009-10-12T06:15:00.000-07:00

Katalin Varga,15, 82mins, Dir; Peter Strickland.

With his fully formed, taut and abrasive thriller Katalin varga, Peter Strickland has left the film world surprised and puzzled mainly as to why his brilliant debut film, was not made in his native land and why he had to go to Hungary to make it. For me this is matter of little significance, the fact is Strickland has created a very worthy film.

The plot, of the little there is, concerns the eponymous Katalin (Hilda Péter) being thrown out of her village, upon her husband’s discovery that their son is not his, Strickland follows her fleeing her home with her son, trailing behind beautifully crafted cinematography and effecting, menacing and often ambiguous music. She slowly but surely makes her way through towns and villages, living off the kindness of strangers. As we move deeper in the psychology of Katalin, handled well by Strickland who’s Kubrickan use of zoom and close up brings power and mystery to the film, as opposed its often gimmicky and over stylised usage. We learn that her son (Norbert Tankó) was in fact the product of a rape 10 years previous; at this point Strickland initiates a tonal shift taking us from rural drama to a dark and foreboding tale of revenge.

The power of Strickland’s film lies in his progressive and fresh approach to cinematography and sound, all blurred focus and hymnal chants leave the one feeling uncomfortable at best, gaining a sense of the shattered mind of Katalin. In a scene towards the end of the film, when describing her ordeal Strickland keeps things minimal (knowing when to turn off the atmospherics as well as when to turn them up) relying on the sound of nature and the running water to give heightened evil to what Katalin is describing.

A fully deserving film, winning high praise already and the recipient of the silver bear and this year Berlin film festival, this is visceral cinema, it reminded me of Paul Andrew William’s gritty 2006 film London to Brighton but caught in a evocative time warp of present day eastern Europe, if successes for British directors does like abroad then I can’t think of a better argument for it than this.

Back on Track: Inglourious Basterds, American film by Quentin Tarantino

2009-08-26T01:41:00.000-07:00

The following may sound controversial to some, but Inglourious Basterds is (so far anyway) the best film of the year, Tarantino is back on form, maybe not to the height of his powers in the early 1990's, but he has definitely made his best film since 1997's Jackie brown.

A pet project that Tarantino has been working on for quite some time, Baterds has everything one would expect from a Tarantino film; snappy/witty dialogue, involved and lengthy plot, black humour and ridiculous performances, all presented through a homage laden and sharp aesthetic. Based on, though not exclusively a remake of a Italian war film Quel maledetto treno blindato (released in the U.S. as Inglorious Bastards)by Enzo G. Castellari. divided into chapters, we learn from the offset that Tarantino is not going to present us with a gritty realistic account of life in occupied France, or indeed a humanistic drama is which morals overcome adversity. He is throwing us directly into a fairytale world which is known from outset; "once upon a time in Nazi occupied France..."

This is a revenge movie of the highest caliber, in chapter one we are introduced to Colonel Hans Landa (played with brilliant dexterity by Christopher Waltz). A high ranking member of the SS who has been appointed to round up all the remaining Jews in France, he is investigating rumours that a dairy farmer Perrier LaPadite is harbouring Jews at his farm house. What begins as jokey questions and mock friendliness turns into a icy cold, tense atmosphere, brilliantly handled by Tarantino, who proves here he knows how to use a close up just as well as Kubrick or Scorsese. A young French Jew, Shosanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent), witnesses the merciless slaughter of her family by Landa and his men, she escapes with her life. Four years later in 1944 she is the owner of a Pairs cinema under the false name "Emmanuelle Mimieux". By chance she meets Frederick Zoller(Daniel Brühl) a fellow cinephile and Nazi war hero, who's courageous acts defending a town from incoming American forces have been made into a propaganda film called Stolz der Nation (A Nation's Pride), starring
himself. Zoller is so taken with Shosanna that he convinces Goebbels to hold the premier of the film at her cinema, Shosanna, noting that alot of high ranking Nazi officers will be in attendance, plots a plan for revenge.

Meanwhile we have been introduced to "the Basterds" a renegade band of Jewish American soldiers led by the egotistical, straight talking Aldo Raine(Brad Pitt). with the aim of coming back from the wars with as many Nazi scalps as possible, upon Receiving information of the premier they (along with British agent and German film expert Lt. Archie Hicox (Michael Fassbender)), hatch a plan to assassinate those attending the screening, of which we now know Hitler will be apart.

The film if nothing else entertaining, piercingly funny, chock full of bawdy stereotypes and excellent performances. Fassbender and waltz both standing out, while Brad pitt's wooden as a deckchair performance won't win any awards has a charming stupidity all of its own. This being Tarantino, one cannot help but notice the references abound throughout, most notable the influence os the classic westerns of Ford and Leone. Referencing ford's classic doorway shots and filing the film with gritty violence and a self aware and over the top soundtrack. This is just great filmaking it knows what it is doing, it is ultimately a celebration of cinema with references to the nouvelle vague thrown in for good measure. The climax is perhaps Tarantino's most backhanded compliment to film using it (literally film) to bring down the third Reich is as preposterous as it is brilliant.

Cineastes no.3: John Carpenter's Big Trouble In Little China

2009-07-17T01:24:00.000-07:00

As a huge fan of John Carpenter, truly one of my favorite American autuers, who's magnum opus Halloween (1978) arguably got me into films, through its sheer technical and aesthetic artistry. I went on to discover many more of Carpenter's films, however Big trouble has always eluded me, i am not sure why it just has, which is shame because upon first viewing i can see why this is considered one of his best films; a no holds bared hour and a half of classic action comedy cinema.

It has all the ingredients of a seminal piece of genre cinema and is given a distinct edge by Carpenter's (as always) classy and understated use of widescreen (which is if anything also a testament to long time cinematographer Dean Cundey), and his off-kilter soundtrack. It is Carpenter's fourth collaboration with Kurt Russell, playing Jack Burns, the cocky, self-assured anti-hero archetype, a character relatively easy to pull off, but done with style here by Russell. And a roll given a gravitas by not giving in to the romantic stereotype at the end, instead continuing on as the lone wolf, at home on the road it would seem, recounting his crazy tales.

Russell is joined throughout by what is a essentially a sidekick in Dennis Dunn as Wang Chi, the pair make a terrific double act flowing off one another.Often played for comedy; Russell inevitably taking the fall boy roll. Their chemistry is involving and entertaining, Jack obviously cares further beyond getting his truck back.

The film is a Brilliantly entertaining i don't think i would want to examine it much beyond that, it is dated, racially stereotyped and at times a little clunky, but stands up well against most of today's film from the action/comedy camp. And i guess this is the hallmark of great director getting a deft balance between action, suspense (for which i think Carpenter as a director can rival Hitchcock, though this isn't the best example.). A great example of slightly over the top eighties cinema, and a great studio produced film. I wish I could write more but I wouldn't want to ruin of dispel what is a great escapist film, through over analysing or contextualising this stunning piece of work.

Briefly: The unloved, British film by Samantha Morton

2009-05-18T06:17:00.000-07:00

I saw this bleak but engrossing film last night, it was a made for a TV film, but if it can warrant an article in this month's sight & sound, it is more than worthy for discussion here.

In the film we follow eleven year old Lucy as she enters into the social care system after being essentially abandoned by her mother and beaten by her abusive father. There is little plot to speak of, the film unfolds slowly, but Morton is more than aware of her deliberate pacing using it as an opportunity to show off her visual flare (there are some stunning compositions throughout). But this is not to say that the film suffers from this rather calm pacing, though Morton does sometimes linger too long on an empty frame, it doesn't quite enter the realm of pretension but is a classic hallmark of a debut feature.

Its not all style and no substance; the performances here are brilliant Lauren, Lucy's sixteen year old room mate is wonderfully realised by Lauren Socha, a confused and sympathetic character, playing well off the shy and endearing Lucy. There is also a first class soundtrack adding subtlety to Morton's stark visuals. The film's message is clear, the care system is shit, not helping children just leaving them in the hands of questionable authority. It may have been a little overlong but it is a worthy little film, all the more affecting knowing that the source material is so close to Morton's real life.

The film is availble to watch here

Cineastes review/essay: Ugetsu

2009-05-15T15:18:00.000-07:00

Although he had been making films since the early 1920's, it wasn't until a trio of award winning films at the Venice film festival that Kenji Mizoguchi found an audience in the west. Riding a wave of eastern film-makers including other Japanese classicists; Mikio Naruse, Jasujiro Ozu and Akira Kurosawa. He had developed his style in the 1930's, mastering a sequence shooting approach to his films, utilizing a one shot one scene approach which gave his work a unique fluidity. He was always different in style to the great master Ozu who's stately, static and sitting camera (his camera rarely came above the level of the human sternum, keeping in the Japanese tradition of sitting) was at odds with Mizoguchi's which was constantly moving tracking his actors.
In Ugetsu monogatari (Ugetsu) (1953) we find Mizoguchi entering his mature period, fresh from winning the international prize at Venice in 1952 with Saikaku ichidai onna (The Life of Oharu) Mizoguchi was hitting a whole new stride that would produce arguably his best work,concerned with a frank examination of post-war Japan and as ever a examination into the lives of Japan's women. These later works also showed a distinct change in style, blending his sequence shooting with a Hollywood influence; the adoption of constant mid-shots and tracking camera to his work, cutting only into a close up or away to other other angles for effect. This is noticeable throughout Ugetsu, particularly in the opening scenes when we learn of Genjoro's big plans to sell his pottery in the big town across lake Biwa and of the impending invasion of the soldiers. However Ugetsu does not pander to the strict rules of Hollywood in any way, it is very much of its self, unfolding in a patient manner, with subtle and touching performances from the entire cast, especially Masayuki Mori and Kinvyo Tanaka, playing the central doomed husband and wife Genjoro and Miyagi. Two of Japan's most famous actors at the time, here they prove more than there worth giving restrained but emotionally aware performances.
Set in 16th Century Japan Mizoguchi presents to us a humble ghost story, adapted from three notable texts that were very popular in Japan; Akinari Ueda's “The house in the thicket”, “the serpent's lust” (both from the collection of stories “Ugetsu Monogatari” literally: tales of moonlight and rain.) and “How he got the legion of honer” by French writer Guy de Maupassant. Mizoguchi's choice for literary adaptation as opposed to a completely original screenplay gives the film a timeless sense, these a regarded a classics in Japan, the film is evocative of both past and present, with its themes just as relevant now as they were in a war torn 16th century Japan.
The film is broad in its thematic scope, offering us a harsh portrayal of family and consequence in wartime, a meditation on the power of love to draw oneself into their rightful and dutiful place (most evident in the seemingly unrealistic strand of Tobei becoming a (forged) success, then giving it all up to return to his wife, something that Mizoguchi was not intent on being in the final film but that was added at producer Masaichi Nagata's insistence. To Mizoguchi the draw of power was too strong for man.) and the power of subjective fantasy and fallacy. The theme of war and its effects on simple family life is the most potent in the film, and the most universal, applying itself to the film's setting, the historical context of the films production and even today as we witness the fall out from the Iraq war coming to a close.
Much of the films overbearing power and skilful articulation of the themes mentioned above, is down to the genius of Mizoguchi, he has crafted the film in such a way to make them come to fore and present to us an unforgettable piece of film-making. Genjoro and Tobei both love and want the best for their families this is obvious form the outset, but Genjoro wants more, he wants to be elevated out this simple poverty stricken life, his wife however is content with her family just being together and safe during this turbulent time. Genjoro ignores her wants for wants for a quiet existence, and along with his neighbour Tobei sees a chance to profiteer from the civil war by selling his pottery in the large market town across the lake. Tobei joins him with his wife Ohama, but Genjoro insists that Miyagi stays somewhere safe and looks after their son. With what follows Mizoguchi orchestrates a severe distancing of the men and women; men going off into their subjective fantasy worlds while the women suffer at the hands of imperial soldiers.
This is a Very common trait in Mizoguchi's film, to show the plight of women, he has been called a feminist film-maker, with his melodramas from the late 1940's focusing particularly on strong female characters. Their subjection here to rape, murder and a life of prostitution is devastating, shot in a cold, unadorned way we are shown Ohama's rape and Miyagi's murder, form the perspective of stark realism, spying on them from a distance making the action all the more poignant, completely detached from the flattering and tranquil world in which Genjoro's fantasy is shot. Another element which infuses the film with its power is Mizoguchi's relentless commitment to period detail showing a very realistic world, making the characters and their actions all the more plausible. Perhaps Mizoguchi's most potent device is his use of self-reflexive or “echo” scenes; the most effective being of Genjoro's pottery wheel, which we see him and Miyagi both working hard on together at the films beginnings, but at the end we are shown Genjoro alone his wife now dead, (a victim of man's insatiable greed?) he works hard to support his son, we here Miyagi on the soundtrack telling her husband how he has become the man she has always wanted.
There has been much written about Mizoguchi as a film-maker and indeed about this film, which many cite as his masterpiece, but I think the most appropriate words to describe it come form the film itself, as Lady Wakasa describes Genjoro's pottery: “The fruit of experience is beauty, but only a master craftsman can create such beauty.” A film of true timeless beauty indeed, from a master at the height of his craft.

Review: Stark trek, American film by JJ Abrams

2009-05-13T07:08:00.000-07:00

JJ Abrams new film is without doubt a fantastic piece of popcorn cinema, fresh out of a screening i feel exhilarated and surprised by just how good it was. This is indeed coming fromm someone how has never seen an episode of the TV series in his life, so i can't vouch for this as a fan boy (but apparently it is going down well).

This is Star trek the early years, as we follow a young Kirk and Spock, both played with an intense vigor by Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto,they are at first intense rivals but in the end become lifelong friends.Their relationship is envisioned well by both players. Kirk is a young rebel, having never known his father (the now infamous Captain George Kirk), he is a troubled but brilliantly talented, per chance after brawling with some cadets form the star fleet he is introduced to Christopher Pike (Bruce Greenwood), a high ranking officer with the enterprise, who knows his father and insists on young Kirk's talents not going to waste, he should join them and continue the legacy of his father.

Meanwhile on the planet Vulcan we are introduced to a young Spock, roughly the same age as kirk, he is ridiculously intelligent and bullied for being of both human and Vulcan decent, he refuses an offer to the the Vulcan science academy and joins the star fleet, and in no time becomes of its most revered members.These are somewhat short and snappy intros to the two main characters on Abrams part, but this is indeed a good thing eschewing a long prelude and going for the guts of the story, we know all we need to know, and now he can dazzle us with his masterly command of action. I won't go into the plot in detail, covering its time travel and the intensely evil Captain Nero (Eric Bana) who sees it as his quest to to destroy all planets of the Enterprise, holding them and more specifically Spock responsible for his own planet's demise in the future (it makes sense, when you see it, it really does). Needless to say the action comes think and fast from the very opening.

And It is action that Abrams does best, he has proved this before in earlier work but now he is coming at us all guns (or phasers if you will) blazing, visceral special effects and edge of seat set-pieces demand you're attention if nothing else. But Abrams shows his clout for story telling, presenting us with Rich characters in the brilliant ensemble cast.

This is top drawer genre filmaking and top draw entertainment, with Spock stealing the show, I kind of wonder what I missed out on by not watching the original, but I doubt any of it looked a good as this.

Essay/Feature: Be afraid, be very afraid.

2009-05-04T12:18:00.000-07:00

By 1968 the American studio system was on life support and did not look like it was about to recover any time soon, for the first time independent cinema was coming to the fore as the true voice of the dissident American public; intelligent visceral films by young talented film-makers, more than willing to express there horror the American dream turned sour, oddly the horror genre was no exception …

“I think there is something about the "American Dream", the sort of Disneyesque dream if you will of the beautifully trimmed front lawn, the white picket fence, mom and dad and their happy children, god fearing and doing good whenever they can; that sort of expectation, and the flipside of it, the kind of anger and the sense of outrage that comes from discovering that that's not the truth of the matter, I think that gives American horror films in some ways kind of an additional rage...”
-Wes Craven

Craven along with his other contemporary horror directors were shocked by the events of the late 1960s and early 1970's, namely; the civil rights struggles, the Manson murders, Kent state shootings and the ever escalating horrors of the Vietnam war. They are the “rage” he refers to, as John Carpenter said it was during this time and particularly the events at Kent sate university, that he had come to realise that “Americans weren't always the good guys,” It was a turbulent time for America, coming out of the haze of a celebratory post war decade the country was again thrown into socio-political crisis and no other art form captured the urgency or mood of the times more than film.

Post classical Hollywood or the American new wave (as it was so influenced by the nouvelle vague) is one of the most celebrated periods of the country's film history (starting with Denis Hopper's Easy rider (1968) and ending with the blockbusting extravaganza of Star wars (George Lucas,1977)), it was the most creative period of American film since the height of the “golden age”, with film-makers like Martin Scorsese ,Robert Altman, Peter Bogdanovich, Brian De Palma, Terrence Mallick and William Freidkin coming to the fore and producing some of the greatest works of in 20th century cinema. These film and their directors have been written about in great detail and are more than worth musing over, but In this feature I wish to celebrate the other side of this shift in American cinema .to the independent horror films produced under audacious conditions in a “movement” following a very similar trajectory beginning with George A. Romero's Night of the living dead (1968) and ending with John Carpenter's Halloween (1978).

Romero had always considered himself political and with film he found the perfect outlet for his intense and often bleak view of the world. With his début feature (to my mind one of the greatest débuts ever.) Night of the living dead he created a truly revolutionary film; re-vamping a tired sub-genre, producing an assured and impressive film (considering its budgetary constants), one of the few American films of its times to cast a black actor as the lead (Though Romero states this
is purely coincidence as Duane Jones was the best actor who auditioned.) and the film was one of the most complex expressions of the social political anguish the country was going through, more so than any other horror film of the period. Romero's film is melting pot of radical ideas about race, class, the generational divide and is steeped in cold war paranoia.

Let us take the films main theme, the elephant in the room if you will, race. The films most horrific scenes come not from the flesh eating ghouls, but from Romero's unsentimental and frank portrayal of the Archetypal American southern sheriff, and his band of red neck NRA pundits. Adam Lowenstein, who's book Shocking Representation: historical trauma, national cinema and the modern horror film (2005) forms a convincing set of arguments about horror cinema and its role in recounting horrific historical events, has commented on the film: “you cannot look at that film and not think about lynchings and the horrors of the Vietnam war” and has called the films ending “devastating...one of the most powerful endings in American film and in film.” The film's ending is a poignant and deeply disturbing comment on American race relations; Ben (the black man) is shot down “mistaken” for a zombie by the hicks the men refuse to touch him with their hands picking him up with meat hooks as if he is an infected piece of meat, thrown on the fire and at once forgotten by his perpetrators. Its ending is classic horror it offers no comfort in its ending, instead leaving questions stubbornly unanswered.

The film also tackles generational divide with Romero comparing the zombies as an “old generation devouring the new.” A statement which is most obviously identified when the little girl Karen part consumes her father, and stabs her mother to death with a trowel. Black humour maybe, but this could well have spoke to a disaffected generation who were at odds with their country's right wing war toting government and the “silent majority” (their elders) that elected them.

The year after Night's initial theatrical release a “family” of crazed hippies shook the world, going on a mass murder spree, lead by the tyrannical Charles Manson, bringing an end to the hippie dream and the “summer of love”, What was once an optimistic decade was crumbling. With war raging to angry protest and government blind to its impending loss. Things become hysterical though, when U.S guard fired on American citizens for first time in history, during demonstrations at Kent state university in May 1970. The next film I wish to cinder is perhaps the most controversial of this “movement” is Wes Craven's Last house on the left (1972) based on Ingmar Bergman's Jungfrukällan (The virgin spring) (1960) the film is ultimately a para dime of human beings capacity for evil when faced with life threatening situations (as seen in Craven's film The hills have eyes (1976)) or in this case the revenge of a loved one, the film is notorious for its sexual violence and gritty documentary style,it is a hard film to watch but at its core is a blatant reaction to the horror of the unnecessary war in Vietnam. Craven called the film a direct
product of the newsreel footage coming back form the front-line, and one photograph in particular of police chief General Nguyễn Ngọc Loan executing a Vietcong prisoner, which he claims to have transported directly to the execution of Marie at the lake. It is indeed a haunting film, and ushered in a new precedent for horror in which the villain(s) is(are) not a monster from out of space or a vampire, but a gang of newly released convicts hell bent on torture and murder.

This is interesting because in Tobe Hooper's 1974 film The Texas chainsaw massacre, we find an amalgamation of both monster and man in the form of the eerie gender confused leatherface. The film is truly terrifying a relentless attack on the senses; as heroine Sally is chased for what seems like an eternity by the chainsaw wielding manic. Again the film is starkly realistic shot with little money and in grainy 16mm, and again in its we find a many parallels to the film's socio-political context. Hooper states he thought of the film's skeletal structure in a flash, “kids, isolation, no gas...” (indeed very specific to the time as oil shortages crippled America in the early 70's.), and on this level again we find the theme of man's inhumanity to man prevalent, ignoring a wholly unrealistic evil to find one all to real in rural Texas: “Mothra didn’t scare me. Godzilla didn’t scare me. It’s people that I’m afraid of.” Hopper said of the film.

In the film we find a as of yet unmentioned, and very important theme feminism. Author of Men, Women, and Chain Saws:Gender in Modern Horror Film Carol J. Clover has said of the film: “I knew right I away I was in some kind of archetype, fairy tale, but little read ridding hood didn't need to be saved by the woodsman she could
save herself, I think that is the message of these films[of which Texas was a, or even the forerunner];that girls can saves themselves.” so deep with in this world of misogynistic world of torture (the dinner scene is as excruciating as anything in the modern horror film.), we find a strong female character helping herself and escaping the clutches of her tormentors, although it would be safe to say she hardly appears mentally stable at the end. The film's ending is hypnotically powerful, and all the more unsettling by not allowing any closure and leaving all questions unanswered; who are these people? Why are they living like this? and to ask of oneself why i am so fascinated by them?

Of course inextricably linked with feminism was the sexual revolution, and one film
that most explicitly referenced this was David Cronenberg's 1975 film Shivers although a Canadian film, I would like to mention it briefly. “ Body horror” pioneer Cronenberg crafted a film definitely of its times(s),steeped in the politics of the sexual revolution, he himself commented that: “the sex you, everyone was having had political overtones.” A parasite has been to developed which will turn the world into “one big mindless orgy” devoid of class, age or race. In some ways a Utopian Marxist ideal, in others a meaningless existence. It is unleashed in a upper class apartment block on the outskirts of Montreal, exploring with it The film's sharp attack on the great class divide not only present in Canada but north America as a whole. Presenting the lives of the people who live in the apartments as banal and boring, chaos insures as the parasite brings the bourgeoisie apartment and its inhabitants into a state of “perpetual bliss.”

The final two films I would like to tie into this movement, (not to say these are the only films just the most important.) are George A. Romero's Dawn of the dead (1978) and the aforementioned Halloween. Both films are the most mainstream in terms of box-office and there long lasting appeal as high points of popular genre cinema. Romero's second instalment in his series of “Dead” films, now at number five, with a 6th one now completed and due for release in the U.S this year. It is, arguably, the most popular of all Romero's films, playing itself out as much as an action adventure as horror. Set in a large mall the film is a scathing attack on the consumerism that was becoming rife in late 70's America and indeed pre-empted the Regan enthused boom of 1980's yuppie culture. Like most of Romero's “dead” films it is ultimately a siege movie becoming more and more claustrophobic, the framing gradually becomes tighter as the film progresses. The characters make this paradise (the mall) their home, having everything they desire but they are ultimately left feeling hollow and unfulfilled, even the zombies want in on this “paradise” mimicking the mindless consumerism of unnecessary products. It is perhaps the most enjoyable of the “dead” films and indeed packs intellectual weight behind its visceral visual punches (special effects by Tom Savini are eye-popping.) but it lacks the weighty subject matter of Night. Perhaps one of the most telling things Romero has said of his films, and phrase that applies brilliantly to Dawn: “we know we are going to die so were the living dead, right?” In other words; you would have to be pretty unfulfilled and desperate to buy into this ridiculous consumer culture.

John Carpenter's Halloween is a different case to all films mentioned above, it is a triumph of style over substance, offering us a Hitchcockian suspense filled roller-coaster ride. The film is masterly written directed, shot and cut. And indeed it signalled the death of this brief wave of intelligent horror films, and paved the way for the morally vacuous “blood 'n' boobs” slasher films, spawning flimsy imitations with the likes of the Friday the 13th and Child's play series. But this does not detract from it being a brilliant “does what it says on the tin” horror film, it is just a shame that it formed such a perfect, easy to follow blueprint for the “slasher genre.”The horror genre would recover, in some respects, throughout the 1990's with Wes craven offering up a post-modern take on the slasher sub-genre, with an ironic send up of almost every rule that Carpenter had inadvertently put into place, with his Scream trilogy (1996,97, and 2000 respectively). But American horror has done nothing but suffer since then, filling its boots with tempestuous remakes of brilliant Asian and European horror films. Gone are the times when you could not sleep not only because the film you just saw was so scary but because it raised so many important questions.

Cannes 2009

2009-04-23T06:35:00.000-07:00

The official selection for the 2009 Cannes film festival has been announced this afternoon. One of the most prestigious festivals in the world,this will be its 62nd year, president of the Jury this year is French actress extraordinaire Isabelle Huppert, with a panel featuring Dario Argento's Daughter Asia, Korean director Lee Chang-Dong and the American actress Robin Wright-Penn. Click here for a full list of the jury, and here for a press pack. A brief look at the line up:

OPENER
"Up," U.S., Pete Docter, Bob Peterson

CLOSER
"Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky," France, Jan Kounen

IN COMPETITION
"Bright Star," Australia-U.K.-France, Jane Campion
"Spring Fever," China-France, Lou Ye
"Antichrist," Denmark-Sweden-France-Italy, Lars von Trier
"Enter the Void," France, Gaspar Noe
"Face," France-Taiwan-Netherlands-Belgium, Tsai Ming-liang
"Les Herbes folles," France-Italy, Alain Resnais
"In the Beginning," France, Xavier Giannoli
"A Prophet," France, Jacques Audiard
"The White Ribbon," Germany-Austria-France, Michael Haneke
"Vengeance," Hong Kong-France-U.S., Johnnie To
"The Time That Remains," Israel-France-Belgium-Italy, Elia Suleiman
"Vincere," Italy-France, Marco Bellocchio
"Kinatay," Philippines, Brillante Mendoza
"Thirst," South Korea-U.S., Park Chan-wook
"Broken Embraces," Spain, Pedro Almodovar
"Map of the Sounds of Tokyo," Spain, Isabel Coixet
"Fish Tank," U.K.-Netherlands, Andrea Arnold
"Looking for Eric," U.K.-France-Belgium-Italy, Ken Loach
"Inglourious Basterds," U.S., Quentin Tarantino
"Taking Woodstock," U.S., Ang Le

I am excited about The white ribbon, Austrian director Michael Haneke's latest film and his first attempt at a costume drama. This will hopefully be a return to form for Haneke after his woefully unnecessary shot for shot remake of his brilliant 1997 film Funny Games. Also gathering buzz is the latest offering from Lars Von Trier; Antichrist, Which if the trailer is anything go by will be one his darkest films yet. Also noteworthy will be new films form Ang Lee, Pedro Almodovar, Park Chan-Wook, Gasper Noe and Alain Resnais. Pixar studio's film Up will open the festival, the first animation to so in its history.

Of course i wish i could go and see some of these films before they take their six to nine months to get released in the UK, but alas film big wigs only.

Review: Entre les murs (The class) French film by Laurent Cantet. 128Mins.

2009-04-22T05:21:00.000-07:00

With Entre les murs Laurent Cantet has given us one of the best French films of the decade, one that can easily sit alongside Michael Hanke's masterpiece Caché (Hidden, 2005) and François Ozon Spare, poetic Le temps qui reste (Time to leave,2005). Canttet has made a truly brilliant film a deft balance between subtle poignancy and striking realism.
François Marin (a brilliant François Bégaudeau, playing essentially himself) is about to embark upon his fourth year as a French teacher at an unnamed state school in the Parisian outskirts. We follow him specifically with a class who we are informed he is with for the second year in a row. The first half of the film is a frank and deftly realised introduction to the school and its inhabitants (Canten never actually leaves the building's walls through the entire film's running time). We are introduced to the students and François' idealised teaching methods, as he attempts to invigorate his students by playing the equal and approaching his work in a calm, patient manner. But he has his work cut out for him. The students are savvy and are dubious of François' approach; “you always use whitey names” Esmeralda (Sandra Ouertani)observes, most of the children in the school are from immigrant families and are non-white,he has no answer answer to her, or indeed to the class's accusation that detention is like "Guantanamo". At times the children are unruly but François attempts to keep his cool, and clearly wants the best for his students “Don't you want to get out of here!” he yells when pushed by their constant interruptions. Their unruly behaviour would test the Patience of a saint. Early in the film Cantent takes us to the staff room, a hysterical teacher bursts in ranting about how he hates teaching and hates the children, the rest of the staff remain silent during his moment of despair, there is a perversely inquisitive look on François' face, knowing all to well that he could snap as well.
The performances in the film are brilliantly naturalistic and posses a stark realism, all captured by Cantents unobtrusive fly on the wall camera, The kids are regular teenagers; with moods and slang and a complete distrust for authority of all kinds, while the teachers are kind and sympathetic (upon hearing the news that Chinese student Wei's mother is to be deported back home, it is suggested they start a “pot” to help fund her legal fees, a recently pregnant teacher even makes a toast to wei, hoping that her baby will be as intelligent as he is.). One day towards the end of the school year though, François does indeed “snap”, however intentionally or unintentionally he refers to two of his most goading female students as “skanks”. This causes a chain reaction argument that leads to troubled student Souleymane (Franck Keita) angrily leaving the classroom, and by accident striking Khoumba (Rachel Regulier) across the face with his bag. The incident is indeed a serious one and in the French school systems interest of democracy, becomes the subject of a hearing to decide Souleymane's punishment.
What elevates Canten's film from good to great cinema, is its willingness to engage and provoke debate with its audience,a film very much about the democracy of the classroom and a documentary-esque look at life as a teacher in the racial and cultural melting pot of modern day city schooling, it reminded me very much of Mathieu Kassovitz's 1995 film La haine (Hate) about a group of down and out youths on a Paris estate angry and alienated from society. The film won Kassovitz the best director prize at Cannes, and just like this Palme'dor winner (the first French film to do so for twenty one years), it is full of energy, ideas and universal themes. A real slice of life.