Melancholia (DVD / BluRay review for Sabotage Times, 30/01/2012)
“It’s the end of the world as we know it, and we don’t feel fine”.
Amidst the maelstrom of controversy surrounding his comments at the 2011 Cannes Festival, it was easy to forget that Lars Von Trier had actually made a movie. Whether you think that then Danish director should have his mouth forcibly sewn shut or not, it’s hard to deny Von Trier’s status as one of the world’s most interesting filmmakers. On the surface, Melancholia is meant to be Von Trier’s stab at a sci-fi film (in his quest to make at least one film in every popular genre). But, whilst there are one or two nods towards the conventions of the genre, the film is better viewed as an examination of the corrosiveness of familial relationships and a treatise on the effects of depression.
After a stunning and oblique credits sequence/prologue in which the end of the world is rendered to a disconcerting and dreamlike effect, we move to the story of Justine (Kirsten Dunst) who is celebrating her wedding to the benignly dutiful Michael (Alexander Skarsgård). With friends and family – including her acid tounged mother (Charlotte Rampling, who is brilliantly cold) and her louche father (John Hurt) – Justine tries to enjoy the occasion. However Justine’s struggle with depression consistently looms and she seems incapable of preventing herself from sabotaging the occasion and alienating those who care for her. As her long suffering sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) attempts to salvage the wedding reception, it seems that Justine will let everything fall apart. But when Justine discovers something in the sky, there seem to be bigger problems to deal with. Fast forward and Justine – in the midst of a crippling depressive episode – goes to visit Claire and family.
From the outset the film sets its stall in the operatic and melodramatic. From the aforementioned opening sequence to the use of Wagner’s Tristan & Isolde, there’s no denying of the moments of epicness in the film…
Whilst they try and deal with Justine, a planet called Melancholia is due to fly past the Earth. But there is no way it will collide. Is there? From the outset the film sets its stall in the operatic and melodramatic. From the aforementioned opening sequence to the use of Wagner’s Tristan & Isolde, there’s no denying of the moments of epicness in the film (so much so that Von Trier has labelled his own film ‘vulgar’). Yet it’s also balanced by an affecting intimacy partly achieved by the urgent camerawork and improvised feel but also by the juxtaposition between the enormity of universal happenings and the seeming insignificance of everyday human existence. Certainly, whilst the depression metaphor is somewhat laboured (it’s a blue planet called Melancholia: DO YOU SEE?!), there’s no doubt that the film is an often painful insight into the nature of the illness. Inspired by Von Trier’s own crippling bouts of depression, the film is one of the disease’s aspects writ large. As depression can often make everything feel pointless and insignificant, Melancholia proves that it is: the upcoming end of the world renders human existence a mere triviality. Yet, despite its inherent bleakness, there’s still a certain hope inherent in proceedings with human stoicism in the face of the inevitable end shown as something of a virtue (albeit a virtue brought about naivety).
The performances are superb with Dunst deserving the accolades she’s received as she gives a raw, exposed and unafraid performance. Justine is often completely unlikable as she spits venom at those closest to her yet there’s still an identifiable sympathy and vulnerability to her. Gainsbourg also deserves as much of the praise as she is a wonderful foil for Dunst. As Claire, she straddles the line between caring and angry as she attempts to care for her sister. Her increasing mania as the end of the world seems more certain is painfully and powerfully rendered and she’s very much the emotional heart of the film. There are also plenty of fine supporting roles, including the aforementioned Rampling and Udo Kier who – for his hand alone – deserves some sort of award.
Whilst the film constantly threatens to tip into the realms of the pretentious and melodramatic, there is something tangibly real and human here that prevents it from doing so. Indeed, for all his bluff and bluster, Von Trier is often remarkably adept at examining the human condition and Melancholia is no exception. The end of the world may not come soon enough for some. But whilst we wait, Melancholia will prepare us well.
Amidst the maelstrom of controversy surrounding his comments at the 2011 Cannes Festival, it was easy to forget that Lars Von Trier had actually made a movie. Whether you think that then Danish director should have his mouth forcibly sewn shut or not, it’s hard to deny Von Trier’s status as one of the world’s most interesting filmmakers. On the surface, Melancholia is meant to be Von Trier’s stab at a sci-fi film (in his quest to make at least one film in every popular genre). But, whilst there are one or two nods towards the conventions of the genre, the film is better viewed as an examination of the corrosiveness of familial relationships and a treatise on the effects of depression.
After a stunning and oblique credits sequence/prologue in which the end of the world is rendered to a disconcerting and dreamlike effect, we move to the story of Justine (Kirsten Dunst) who is celebrating her wedding to the benignly dutiful Michael (Alexander Skarsgård). With friends and family – including her acid tounged mother (Charlotte Rampling, who is brilliantly cold) and her louche father (John Hurt) – Justine tries to enjoy the occasion. However Justine’s struggle with depression consistently looms and she seems incapable of preventing herself from sabotaging the occasion and alienating those who care for her. As her long suffering sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) attempts to salvage the wedding reception, it seems that Justine will let everything fall apart. But when Justine discovers something in the sky, there seem to be bigger problems to deal with. Fast forward and Justine – in the midst of a crippling depressive episode – goes to visit Claire and family.
From the outset the film sets its stall in the operatic and melodramatic. From the aforementioned opening sequence to the use of Wagner’s Tristan & Isolde, there’s no denying of the moments of epicness in the film…
Whilst they try and deal with Justine, a planet called Melancholia is due to fly past the Earth. But there is no way it will collide. Is there? From the outset the film sets its stall in the operatic and melodramatic. From the aforementioned opening sequence to the use of Wagner’s Tristan & Isolde, there’s no denying of the moments of epicness in the film (so much so that Von Trier has labelled his own film ‘vulgar’). Yet it’s also balanced by an affecting intimacy partly achieved by the urgent camerawork and improvised feel but also by the juxtaposition between the enormity of universal happenings and the seeming insignificance of everyday human existence. Certainly, whilst the depression metaphor is somewhat laboured (it’s a blue planet called Melancholia: DO YOU SEE?!), there’s no doubt that the film is an often painful insight into the nature of the illness. Inspired by Von Trier’s own crippling bouts of depression, the film is one of the disease’s aspects writ large. As depression can often make everything feel pointless and insignificant, Melancholia proves that it is: the upcoming end of the world renders human existence a mere triviality. Yet, despite its inherent bleakness, there’s still a certain hope inherent in proceedings with human stoicism in the face of the inevitable end shown as something of a virtue (albeit a virtue brought about naivety).
The performances are superb with Dunst deserving the accolades she’s received as she gives a raw, exposed and unafraid performance. Justine is often completely unlikable as she spits venom at those closest to her yet there’s still an identifiable sympathy and vulnerability to her. Gainsbourg also deserves as much of the praise as she is a wonderful foil for Dunst. As Claire, she straddles the line between caring and angry as she attempts to care for her sister. Her increasing mania as the end of the world seems more certain is painfully and powerfully rendered and she’s very much the emotional heart of the film. There are also plenty of fine supporting roles, including the aforementioned Rampling and Udo Kier who – for his hand alone – deserves some sort of award.
Whilst the film constantly threatens to tip into the realms of the pretentious and melodramatic, there is something tangibly real and human here that prevents it from doing so. Indeed, for all his bluff and bluster, Von Trier is often remarkably adept at examining the human condition and Melancholia is no exception. The end of the world may not come soon enough for some. But whilst we wait, Melancholia will prepare us well.
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (DVD Review for The Culture Vulture, 2012)
James Bond has somewhat clouded our notions of the spy genre in cinema as we come to expect glamour, gorgeous locations and beautiful women aplenty. John le Carré – himself a former agent of M15 and M16 – knew the reality was somewhat different. In his classic books set during the Cold War he shows the secret service to be a stuffy affair full of intrigue and power plays conducted in grey and impersonal buildings. Yet – despite the lack of exotic surroundings and over-the-top villains – his work was never less than brilliantly engrossing. Famously adapted by BBC television in 1979, Tomas Alfredson’s newest version of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy gives the cinematic spy movie a shot in the arm by, ironically enough, harking back to the past.
England. The 1970s. Retired spy George Smiley (Gary Oldman) is enticed back to the ‘circus’ – i.e. the British Secret Service – after suspicions of there being a traitor in the highest ranks. With the aid of Peter Guillam (Benedict Cumberbatch, better known to most as Sherlock) he must covertly attempt to discover the person who is working for the Russians. But with deceit, murder and corruption rife, Smiley’s job may be a lot harder than he thinks.
This is a meticulously crafted film with director Tomas Alfredson (best known for Let The Right One In), cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema and production designer Maria Djurkovic doing some sterling work mirroring the intricate plot with some precise and clinical visuals. With a palette of blanched out colours and locations that are sparse and forbidding this is an aesthetically austere affair but this coldness manages to be grimly beautiful and striking. It also marvellously evokes the 70s without feeling old-fashioned or out of date while the atmosphere is also greatly helped by an excellent score by Alberto Iglesias.
Oldman’s performance in the lead has rightly been praised as he combines a fierce intelligence and determination with understatement. For many it’s hard to envision anyone else but Alec Guinness in the role but Oldman makes it his own and he provides an excellent focus for the dense plot. The rest of the cast give equally superb performances – unsurprising considering it consists of the likes of Mark Strong, John Hurt and Colin Firth amongst many others – but special mention should be given to Cumberbatch whose supporting role gives something of an emotional heart to the film. Certainly, this is a complex film (and kudos should be given to screenwriters Bridget O’Connor and Peter Straughan for their sympathetic adaptation of the novel) that is often serious and dour but there are enough moments of subtle humour (such as the Office Christmas Party in which all the English secret service sing along to the Russian national anthem) to balance the film.
From its bleak yet gorgeous design to the strong performances, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is one of the best films of 2011 and perhaps one of the greatest spy films ever made. This Blu-Ray release does justice to the visuals of the film and – whilst most of the extras are of the promotional featurette kind that have fleetingly interesting things to say – the commentary with Oldman and Alfredson is a worthwhile affair. British cinema had something of a renaissance in 2011 and this films stands up with the best of them
England. The 1970s. Retired spy George Smiley (Gary Oldman) is enticed back to the ‘circus’ – i.e. the British Secret Service – after suspicions of there being a traitor in the highest ranks. With the aid of Peter Guillam (Benedict Cumberbatch, better known to most as Sherlock) he must covertly attempt to discover the person who is working for the Russians. But with deceit, murder and corruption rife, Smiley’s job may be a lot harder than he thinks.
This is a meticulously crafted film with director Tomas Alfredson (best known for Let The Right One In), cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema and production designer Maria Djurkovic doing some sterling work mirroring the intricate plot with some precise and clinical visuals. With a palette of blanched out colours and locations that are sparse and forbidding this is an aesthetically austere affair but this coldness manages to be grimly beautiful and striking. It also marvellously evokes the 70s without feeling old-fashioned or out of date while the atmosphere is also greatly helped by an excellent score by Alberto Iglesias.
Oldman’s performance in the lead has rightly been praised as he combines a fierce intelligence and determination with understatement. For many it’s hard to envision anyone else but Alec Guinness in the role but Oldman makes it his own and he provides an excellent focus for the dense plot. The rest of the cast give equally superb performances – unsurprising considering it consists of the likes of Mark Strong, John Hurt and Colin Firth amongst many others – but special mention should be given to Cumberbatch whose supporting role gives something of an emotional heart to the film. Certainly, this is a complex film (and kudos should be given to screenwriters Bridget O’Connor and Peter Straughan for their sympathetic adaptation of the novel) that is often serious and dour but there are enough moments of subtle humour (such as the Office Christmas Party in which all the English secret service sing along to the Russian national anthem) to balance the film.
From its bleak yet gorgeous design to the strong performances, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is one of the best films of 2011 and perhaps one of the greatest spy films ever made. This Blu-Ray release does justice to the visuals of the film and – whilst most of the extras are of the promotional featurette kind that have fleetingly interesting things to say – the commentary with Oldman and Alfredson is a worthwhile affair. British cinema had something of a renaissance in 2011 and this films stands up with the best of them
The Idiot (Theatrical review for Screen Daily, 2011)
Based on the Dostoyevsky novel of the same name The Idiot (Idioot) is an impressively stylised piece of work that takes on elements of the surreal, Estonian theatrical tradition and even German Expressionism.
With an imminent domestic theatrical release and an international premiere at the Busan International Film Festival, the film should follow in the footsteps of The Temptation of St. Tony (produced by the same company) and prove popular on the festival circuit. However, it may prove too obtuse for even the most adventurous international art-house distributors.
The film follows Prince Myshkin, who comes to stay with a distant relative after a spell in a sanatorium caused by his epilepsy. He soon becomes entranced with the beauty of Nastassya Filippovna, a damaged woman who has drawn the affections of many men including the fiercely jealous Rogožin. But whilst Myshkin is falling for Filippovna he also begins to have feelings for the artist Aglaja. Soon Myshkin earns the enmity of Rogožin and finds that trying to be a good person in a fundamentally bad world may be idiocy indeed.
Superficially faithful to the novel (though Russian literature aficionados may find too many narrative layers have been dispensed with), this is marked by some impressive acting (especially from Risto Kübar and Tambet Tuisk in the lead male roles) and equally impressive (and grandiose) set design that manages to offset some of the theatricality at the heart of proceedings. Mention must also be given to the eclectic soundtrack that manages to take in classical, 60s beat and 80s pop that adds an extra air of weirdness to the film.
Whilst sometimes a little too arch for its own good, this has enough verve and inventiveness to make it a unique and enjoyable literary adaptation.
With an imminent domestic theatrical release and an international premiere at the Busan International Film Festival, the film should follow in the footsteps of The Temptation of St. Tony (produced by the same company) and prove popular on the festival circuit. However, it may prove too obtuse for even the most adventurous international art-house distributors.
The film follows Prince Myshkin, who comes to stay with a distant relative after a spell in a sanatorium caused by his epilepsy. He soon becomes entranced with the beauty of Nastassya Filippovna, a damaged woman who has drawn the affections of many men including the fiercely jealous Rogožin. But whilst Myshkin is falling for Filippovna he also begins to have feelings for the artist Aglaja. Soon Myshkin earns the enmity of Rogožin and finds that trying to be a good person in a fundamentally bad world may be idiocy indeed.
Superficially faithful to the novel (though Russian literature aficionados may find too many narrative layers have been dispensed with), this is marked by some impressive acting (especially from Risto Kübar and Tambet Tuisk in the lead male roles) and equally impressive (and grandiose) set design that manages to offset some of the theatricality at the heart of proceedings. Mention must also be given to the eclectic soundtrack that manages to take in classical, 60s beat and 80s pop that adds an extra air of weirdness to the film.
Whilst sometimes a little too arch for its own good, this has enough verve and inventiveness to make it a unique and enjoyable literary adaptation.
Hobo With A Shotgun (Theatrical review for Little White Lies, 2011)
The second film to originate from the fake trailers created to promote Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez’s Grindhouse (the first being the ridiculously entertaining Machete), Hobo with a Shotgun is an homage to ’80s exploitation thrillers in which subtlety and restraint is held with scant regard.
The eponymous hobo (Rutger Hauer) finds himself in the delightfully named Scum Town. A haven of brutal beatings, degrading sex and sickening violence, it makes Sodom and Gomorrah look like Vatican City. At the centre of it all is the twisted Mr Drake (Brian Downey) who – along with his psychopathic sons, monstrous henchmen and the corrupt police force – keeps the few decent citizens living in constant fear. When he reaches breaking point, the hobo decides to fight back by – as the film’s tagline proudly proclaims – dispensing justice one shell at a time.
Hobo is sick pantomime taken to an absurd degree. Its clichéd story – the stranger arriving in a corrupt town to clean it up – owes as much to the western as the horror genre, and in reality is little more than a hook for various grotesque characters and situations. You’re not sure a character is evil? Fine, let’s have them barbecue a school bus full of children just so you’re sure. Is that cop corrupt because he takes a sly bribe? No, it’s because he helped carve the word ‘scum’ into somebody’s chest.
Yet this absurdity is also the film’s saving grace. From the palette of muted primary colours chosen to parody its ’80s grindhouse counterparts, to the never ending gobbets of bright red blood, Hobo is too ridiculous to take seriously and – by extension – be remotely offended by.
Of course those who are squeamish need not apply. There’s no ‘let’s turn the camera away and leave it to the audience’s imagination’ here. Body parts are disintegrated, heads are often reduced to a pulpy mush while lawnmowers and ice-skates are used ways that the manufacturers surely didn’t intend.
While the majority of the acting befits the film’s low-end aspirations, Hauer really gives it his all. After a decade of Euro-trash features and Guinness ads, it’s easy to forget that that he is an amazingly charismatic screen presence. Here his performance anchors the insanity and proves that, despite knocking on in years, he can still be a convincing action star.
Nostalgia can often forgive a multitude of sins, but director Jason Eisener has written a winning love letter to the lost films of his youth with enough humour and chaos to delight any fan of the genre.
The eponymous hobo (Rutger Hauer) finds himself in the delightfully named Scum Town. A haven of brutal beatings, degrading sex and sickening violence, it makes Sodom and Gomorrah look like Vatican City. At the centre of it all is the twisted Mr Drake (Brian Downey) who – along with his psychopathic sons, monstrous henchmen and the corrupt police force – keeps the few decent citizens living in constant fear. When he reaches breaking point, the hobo decides to fight back by – as the film’s tagline proudly proclaims – dispensing justice one shell at a time.
Hobo is sick pantomime taken to an absurd degree. Its clichéd story – the stranger arriving in a corrupt town to clean it up – owes as much to the western as the horror genre, and in reality is little more than a hook for various grotesque characters and situations. You’re not sure a character is evil? Fine, let’s have them barbecue a school bus full of children just so you’re sure. Is that cop corrupt because he takes a sly bribe? No, it’s because he helped carve the word ‘scum’ into somebody’s chest.
Yet this absurdity is also the film’s saving grace. From the palette of muted primary colours chosen to parody its ’80s grindhouse counterparts, to the never ending gobbets of bright red blood, Hobo is too ridiculous to take seriously and – by extension – be remotely offended by.
Of course those who are squeamish need not apply. There’s no ‘let’s turn the camera away and leave it to the audience’s imagination’ here. Body parts are disintegrated, heads are often reduced to a pulpy mush while lawnmowers and ice-skates are used ways that the manufacturers surely didn’t intend.
While the majority of the acting befits the film’s low-end aspirations, Hauer really gives it his all. After a decade of Euro-trash features and Guinness ads, it’s easy to forget that that he is an amazingly charismatic screen presence. Here his performance anchors the insanity and proves that, despite knocking on in years, he can still be a convincing action star.
Nostalgia can often forgive a multitude of sins, but director Jason Eisener has written a winning love letter to the lost films of his youth with enough humour and chaos to delight any fan of the genre.
Mary & Max (Theatrical Review for Little White Lies, 2010)
Whilst animation films have long since cast off the ‘just for kids’ label, people still seem surprised when they deal with sophisticated and adult themes. It’s as if the very process of animation somehow strips away all pathos and gravitas: yes, Up can have a moving opening, but it’s soon on to the floating houses and talking dogs. An animation couldn’t possibly deal with loneliness, neglect, Asperger’s Syndrome and alcoholism in any sort of meaningful way. Could it?
Mary Dinkle is a lonely eight-year-old girl living in the suburbs of Melbourne with a mother who is fond of cooking with sherry and a father whose sole interest is taxidermy. Desperate for a friend, Mary picks a name out of the US phone directory at random and puts pen to paper hoping a friendship will blossom. Her would be penpal is Max Horovitz, a fortysomething New Yorker with Asperger’s Syndrome, suffering from obesity and a lonely existence. A chord is struck between the two and the letters they share soon allow them to negotiate a world that is incomprehensible and troublesome.
This debut feature from writer-director Adam Elliot has been eagerly awaited and those who delighted in his short films (such as the Oscar winning Harvie Krumpet) will be glad to know that his animation techniques haven’t changed. His unique style and rendering of characters is a strange yet compelling blend of the twee and the grotesque, presenting a world that is both cartoonish and darkly real. Swathes of funny visual jokes and puns work alongside moments of emotion and drama, yet they never feel at odds as Elliot manages to mix both with an assured and deft touch. Certainly, you can feel a love for the characters come through the film (Elliot has often based his characters on people from his life) and it gives everything a sense of joy-de-vivre that is both infectious and emotional. At no time does anything feel fake or forced, and the laughs and tears the film elicits are welcome in a time when many films seem cynical and manipulative.
The voice cast are excellent with Philip Seymour Hoffman managing to bring a gruffness and bruised humanity to Max, whilst Toni Colette as (the older) Mary brings a wonderfully judged tone of naivety. It’s also nicely narrated by Barry Humphries, who brings a warm and paternalistic tone to proceedings.
Mary and Max will justifiably be lauded as one of the best animated films of the past few years. In fact it’s one of the best films of the past few years. Full Stop.
Mary Dinkle is a lonely eight-year-old girl living in the suburbs of Melbourne with a mother who is fond of cooking with sherry and a father whose sole interest is taxidermy. Desperate for a friend, Mary picks a name out of the US phone directory at random and puts pen to paper hoping a friendship will blossom. Her would be penpal is Max Horovitz, a fortysomething New Yorker with Asperger’s Syndrome, suffering from obesity and a lonely existence. A chord is struck between the two and the letters they share soon allow them to negotiate a world that is incomprehensible and troublesome.
This debut feature from writer-director Adam Elliot has been eagerly awaited and those who delighted in his short films (such as the Oscar winning Harvie Krumpet) will be glad to know that his animation techniques haven’t changed. His unique style and rendering of characters is a strange yet compelling blend of the twee and the grotesque, presenting a world that is both cartoonish and darkly real. Swathes of funny visual jokes and puns work alongside moments of emotion and drama, yet they never feel at odds as Elliot manages to mix both with an assured and deft touch. Certainly, you can feel a love for the characters come through the film (Elliot has often based his characters on people from his life) and it gives everything a sense of joy-de-vivre that is both infectious and emotional. At no time does anything feel fake or forced, and the laughs and tears the film elicits are welcome in a time when many films seem cynical and manipulative.
The voice cast are excellent with Philip Seymour Hoffman managing to bring a gruffness and bruised humanity to Max, whilst Toni Colette as (the older) Mary brings a wonderfully judged tone of naivety. It’s also nicely narrated by Barry Humphries, who brings a warm and paternalistic tone to proceedings.
Mary and Max will justifiably be lauded as one of the best animated films of the past few years. In fact it’s one of the best films of the past few years. Full Stop.
Breathless [A Bout De Souffle ] (Re-release theatrical review for Little White Lies, 2010)
“What is your greatest ambition?”
“To become immortal and then die.”
In some ways it is easy to forget how amazing Breathless was when it was released 50 years ago. Its refusal to conform to traditional narrative rules and use of innovative techniques such as jump cuts, not only rebelled against the traditions of French Classical Cinema but also struck a chord with audiences across the world who responded to not only the vitality of Jean-Luc Godard’s film but to the pioneering spirit of all those who were spearheading the French New Wave. But it is often the fate of innovators to go unrecognised for their achievements, especially in cinema: after all, the inventive can often seem stale to those unimpressed by the shock of the new.
Breathless has managed to stand the test of time still feeling incredibly fresh and exciting, even though the film is half a century old. The plot of the film itself is still mainly perfunctory (reminiscent of the great Hollywood films that were so venerated by Godard and the rest of the ‘Cahiers du Cinéma’ critics who made up the French New Wave) as small time criminal Michel Poiccard murders a policeman and holes up with his lover as he attempts to keep away from the authorities. But this is not a film about plot: it’s a film about moments, about refusing to follow the rules and about freedom.
Indeed Poiccard just may well be the embodiment of the spirit of the whole French New Wave movement. He’s the essence of nonconformity with a galvanising presence that has justifiably earned Jean-Paul Belmondo’s performance an iconic status in cinema history. His louche and childish charm must have felt so different in a time when the majority of main protagonists were uptight good guys; certainly, even in a day when anti-heroes litter the screen, Poiccard is a startling example of sex appeal and nonchalance.
The same can be said for Jean Seberg as Patricia whose liberated attitude and intelligence provide a perfect foil for Michel. The central sequence of Michel and Patricia in her flat, bantering about love and life still seems a brilliantly real and uncontrived depiction of relationship unfettered by the norms of society. Indeed, it is only Michel’s ultimate fate that would seem to restore the status quo but, even then, it seems to be out of respect to the crime genre than any moralistic attitude. And it is responsible for the oft discussed (and oft mistranslated) exchange between Michel and Patricia.
The freedom extends to Godard’s and cinematographer Raoul Coutard’s style which manages to be both naturalistic and artificial at the same time. The jump cuts, rather than being jarring, give the film much of its relentless energy whilst the integration of quasi-documentary footage gives an almost surreal air of authenticity amongst the technical ‘tricks’.
There are times when the status of an iconic film is undeserved and often conferred due to an inability to disagree with received opinion. Breathlessis far from one of these films. With an impact on modern cinema that is undeniable, with filmmakers such as Scorsese and Tarantino all citing its influence (though, to be fair, the only person Tarantino doesn’t seem to be influenced by is his postman) – the film is also a stunning work in its right, full of power and vitality that, well, is breathtaking.
“To become immortal and then die.”
In some ways it is easy to forget how amazing Breathless was when it was released 50 years ago. Its refusal to conform to traditional narrative rules and use of innovative techniques such as jump cuts, not only rebelled against the traditions of French Classical Cinema but also struck a chord with audiences across the world who responded to not only the vitality of Jean-Luc Godard’s film but to the pioneering spirit of all those who were spearheading the French New Wave. But it is often the fate of innovators to go unrecognised for their achievements, especially in cinema: after all, the inventive can often seem stale to those unimpressed by the shock of the new.
Breathless has managed to stand the test of time still feeling incredibly fresh and exciting, even though the film is half a century old. The plot of the film itself is still mainly perfunctory (reminiscent of the great Hollywood films that were so venerated by Godard and the rest of the ‘Cahiers du Cinéma’ critics who made up the French New Wave) as small time criminal Michel Poiccard murders a policeman and holes up with his lover as he attempts to keep away from the authorities. But this is not a film about plot: it’s a film about moments, about refusing to follow the rules and about freedom.
Indeed Poiccard just may well be the embodiment of the spirit of the whole French New Wave movement. He’s the essence of nonconformity with a galvanising presence that has justifiably earned Jean-Paul Belmondo’s performance an iconic status in cinema history. His louche and childish charm must have felt so different in a time when the majority of main protagonists were uptight good guys; certainly, even in a day when anti-heroes litter the screen, Poiccard is a startling example of sex appeal and nonchalance.
The same can be said for Jean Seberg as Patricia whose liberated attitude and intelligence provide a perfect foil for Michel. The central sequence of Michel and Patricia in her flat, bantering about love and life still seems a brilliantly real and uncontrived depiction of relationship unfettered by the norms of society. Indeed, it is only Michel’s ultimate fate that would seem to restore the status quo but, even then, it seems to be out of respect to the crime genre than any moralistic attitude. And it is responsible for the oft discussed (and oft mistranslated) exchange between Michel and Patricia.
The freedom extends to Godard’s and cinematographer Raoul Coutard’s style which manages to be both naturalistic and artificial at the same time. The jump cuts, rather than being jarring, give the film much of its relentless energy whilst the integration of quasi-documentary footage gives an almost surreal air of authenticity amongst the technical ‘tricks’.
There are times when the status of an iconic film is undeserved and often conferred due to an inability to disagree with received opinion. Breathlessis far from one of these films. With an impact on modern cinema that is undeniable, with filmmakers such as Scorsese and Tarantino all citing its influence (though, to be fair, the only person Tarantino doesn’t seem to be influenced by is his postman) – the film is also a stunning work in its right, full of power and vitality that, well, is breathtaking.
Transformers 2: Rise of the Machines (DVD Review for Netribution, 2010)
Now if you want an example of how not to do [a Hollywood blockbuster] properly than look no further than Transformers 2: Rise of the Machines (Paramount Home Entertainment) which is – to put in bluntly – complete shit. I found the original mildly diverting fun, but this is just a pile of overblown and overtly right-wing nonsense that is basically a large toy advert. Yes, I realise that most Hollywood action films resemble that remark, but Transformers 2 does it with such a naked contempt for the audience that it’s is quite staggering. The plot involves Shia LaBeouf looking nerdy but cool, Megan Fox looking faker than £7 note and lots of robots who I couldn’t give a stuff about smashing the crap out of each other. I am sure that Michael Bay will be crying intently into his millions when he hears that Special Edition has given him a bad review, but if anyone is remotely tempted to buy this then please: hire the original animated movie (it features Orson Welles’ final performance don’t you know!) or even the bloody Gobots (points for anyone who remembers them). But just don’t bother with this. Apparently there are some extras, but as they didn’t consist of the entire cast and crew saying ‘sorry’ on a loop I couldn’t be bothered.
Watchmen (Theatrical review for Sci-Fi London, 2009)
So: the ‘ufilmable’ graphic novel finally makes it way to the big screen. Will Zack Snyder be carried through the streets, triumphant with the knowledge that he’s managed to achieve the – seemingly – impossible of doing justice to one of the most famous examples of sequential art (that’s the preferred names for graphic novels, don’t you know) of all time. Or are the fans pulling on their Rorschach masks ready to belt whip Mr Snyder into an alternate universe? As might be expected, the answer is ‘a little from column A and a little from column B’.
Eddie Blake’s evening is rather rudely interrupted when an intruder throws him out of his apartment window. And matters are compounded when he turns out to be The Comedian (played with fascistic glee by Jeffery Dean Morgan), an infamous superhero and former member of the Watchmen, a band of costumed crusaders dedicated to truth, justice and the American way. Enter Rorschach (Jackie Earle Hayley, who gets the role spot on) a rather psychotic vigilante who is convinced that someone is targeting former ‘masks’. His investigations bring him contact with his former partner Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson), the ‘smartest man on the planet’ Adrian Veidt (Matthew Goode) and the Godlike Dr Manhattan (Billy Crudup). Soon they discover a terrible truth at the heart of a massive conspiracy.
Snyder has managed to stick pretty faithfully to Alan Moore’s original story (though the ending has already caused some consternation amongst the hardcore fans. Message to them: shut up as it works and makes sense) and manages to keep much of the intricate structure that made the original so beloved. But, being Zack Snyder, the word subtlety isn’t really the name of the game here. His trademark slow-motion action sequences are abundant here (ooh, look pretty explosions! I’d been impressed if it wasn’t the 500th time in the last 5 minutes that I’ve seen one) and the blaring and obvious use of music tracks start to get grating (though the opening credit sequence set to Dylan’s ‘the times they are a changin’’ is bloody great). But there’s enough intelligence here to counter-balance the more bombastic elements of the film and should prove engaging enough for fans and non-fans alike. Oh, and a word to the squeamish. If you thought The Dark Knight was a bit rough, then prepared to be shocked by this. None of the violence is held back – indeed it’s nastier than the original – and there’s a reason that this has been given an 18 certificate…
Performances are uniformly great with the fact that the majority of the cast reside firmly in the ‘unknown’ category working in the film’s favour. Rather than star spotting, the characters are allowed to inhabit their roles and do so without feeling the need to place tongues firmly in cheek. Crudup impresses, even though he spends most of the time as an animated blue thing who – erm – consistently lets his animated blue thing swing about (you’ll see what I mean…). As well as the aforementioned Hayley. A lot of praise must also go to Goode for his faintly disturbing portrayal of Ozymandias and Carala Guigno gets some presence in a genre usually given over to the male of the species.
Ultimately Watchmen the film will never be as good as Watchmen the graphic novel. After all, the original Watchmen was never meant to be filmed. It’s genius lay in being able to push back the boundaries of the graphic novel form and showing readers just what could be done with flair and imagination. And times have indeed changed – what was once a fresh and exciting take on the notion of the ‘superhero’ is now a clichéd idea as we seemingly cannot have anyone save the world unless they have at least one or two psychological problems. But even then, as a film, Watchmen is an exciting spectacle, with some intelligence, that fits in nicely with the current boom of comic book movies.
Either way, Alan Moore still couldn’t give a monkeys.
Eddie Blake’s evening is rather rudely interrupted when an intruder throws him out of his apartment window. And matters are compounded when he turns out to be The Comedian (played with fascistic glee by Jeffery Dean Morgan), an infamous superhero and former member of the Watchmen, a band of costumed crusaders dedicated to truth, justice and the American way. Enter Rorschach (Jackie Earle Hayley, who gets the role spot on) a rather psychotic vigilante who is convinced that someone is targeting former ‘masks’. His investigations bring him contact with his former partner Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson), the ‘smartest man on the planet’ Adrian Veidt (Matthew Goode) and the Godlike Dr Manhattan (Billy Crudup). Soon they discover a terrible truth at the heart of a massive conspiracy.
Snyder has managed to stick pretty faithfully to Alan Moore’s original story (though the ending has already caused some consternation amongst the hardcore fans. Message to them: shut up as it works and makes sense) and manages to keep much of the intricate structure that made the original so beloved. But, being Zack Snyder, the word subtlety isn’t really the name of the game here. His trademark slow-motion action sequences are abundant here (ooh, look pretty explosions! I’d been impressed if it wasn’t the 500th time in the last 5 minutes that I’ve seen one) and the blaring and obvious use of music tracks start to get grating (though the opening credit sequence set to Dylan’s ‘the times they are a changin’’ is bloody great). But there’s enough intelligence here to counter-balance the more bombastic elements of the film and should prove engaging enough for fans and non-fans alike. Oh, and a word to the squeamish. If you thought The Dark Knight was a bit rough, then prepared to be shocked by this. None of the violence is held back – indeed it’s nastier than the original – and there’s a reason that this has been given an 18 certificate…
Performances are uniformly great with the fact that the majority of the cast reside firmly in the ‘unknown’ category working in the film’s favour. Rather than star spotting, the characters are allowed to inhabit their roles and do so without feeling the need to place tongues firmly in cheek. Crudup impresses, even though he spends most of the time as an animated blue thing who – erm – consistently lets his animated blue thing swing about (you’ll see what I mean…). As well as the aforementioned Hayley. A lot of praise must also go to Goode for his faintly disturbing portrayal of Ozymandias and Carala Guigno gets some presence in a genre usually given over to the male of the species.
Ultimately Watchmen the film will never be as good as Watchmen the graphic novel. After all, the original Watchmen was never meant to be filmed. It’s genius lay in being able to push back the boundaries of the graphic novel form and showing readers just what could be done with flair and imagination. And times have indeed changed – what was once a fresh and exciting take on the notion of the ‘superhero’ is now a clichéd idea as we seemingly cannot have anyone save the world unless they have at least one or two psychological problems. But even then, as a film, Watchmen is an exciting spectacle, with some intelligence, that fits in nicely with the current boom of comic book movies.
Either way, Alan Moore still couldn’t give a monkeys.
Simon Magus / The Nine Lives of Tomas Katz (DVD Review for Netribution, 2006)
Everyone who says that there are no decent films being made in the UK are dead wrong. There are plenty of decent movies made in the UK. It's just that no-one really gets the chance to see them. With UK distributors consistently playing it safe, there's a raft of excellent stuff that - apart from an occasional screening at a film festival - that's gathering dust on a shelf. But thanks to the advent DVD, there's been a re-discovery of many of the films that seemingly slipped through the cracks. A couple of these happen to be two of the finest British films made over the past decade both directed by Ben Hopkins. Prepare to the enter the fairy tale land of Simon Magus and the chaos that surrounds The Nine Lives Of Thomas Katz
Set in 19th Century Central Europe, Simon Magus is a remarkable debut feature that stars Noah Taylor as Simon, an outcast in his village as many people believe that he's possessed by the Devil. Meanwhile business Hase and the scholar Dovid compete to control a new railway that will safeguard the village's future. Hase enlists Simon as a spy and events soon spiral out of control. Are there really supernatural forces at work? Beautifully shot (but with an acute sense of the mud and grime of the village) and with some fabulous acting from Taylor, Rutger Hauer (yes, you read right) and Sir Ian Holm this is a darkly compelling fantasy adventure with a sense of classic cinema about it..
Which makes The Nine Lives Of Thomas Katz such a surprise. For his second feature Hopkins eschews the formality of his previous film and goes for a gloriously chaotic and free-wheeling style which contains the gamut of genres from thriller to German Expressionism, from MTV promo to Ealing comedy. Here Thomas Fischer - in an absolutely astonishing performance - plays the eponymous title character who shifts from person to person as he attempts to bring about the apocalypse in London. Only the blind and spiritual police inspector (played with a hilarious air of bemusement by Ian McNeice) seems equipped to stop him. Just brimming with great ideas, moments of laugh out loud humour (Never has the line "Get the tea ladies," been mad so funny) and some moments of quite overwhelming beauty it's sheer energy and enthusiasm put many other films that managed to get wide distribution to shame. Does it make sense? Does it hell. But that's half the fun.
At the centre of both films is - obviously - Hopkins and the commentary who provides for both films are revealing though, sadly, sometimes for the wrong reasons. The Katz commentary - conducted in conjunction with Fischer seemingly a couple of years after the film had been made - is a funny affair which can be boiled down to Hopkins saying "What the fuck was I thinking of making and what the fucking hell are you idiots doing watching it?" Partly this seems to be a deliberate provocation towards the audience but also there's an element of being jaded here. Recorded at the time when the film was gaining critical plaudits but was being distributed in a way that could be generously be described as ham fisted must have been a frustrating experience (though the film was a massive hit in Germany).
The Magus commentary - seemingly recorded only a couple of years ago - is another bittersweet affair in which Hopkins admires the film but feels it's made by someone else, a someone else who was much more enthusiastic and hopeful about making films in the future.
Thankfully Hopkins has continued to make films and his excellent documentary 37 Uses For A Dead Sheep should be showing at festivals son. In the meantime, this brilliant DVD release (not only do you get both films but you also get Hopkins' award winning short National Achievement Day) will allow these films to be re-discovered and garner the respect that they deserve.
Set in 19th Century Central Europe, Simon Magus is a remarkable debut feature that stars Noah Taylor as Simon, an outcast in his village as many people believe that he's possessed by the Devil. Meanwhile business Hase and the scholar Dovid compete to control a new railway that will safeguard the village's future. Hase enlists Simon as a spy and events soon spiral out of control. Are there really supernatural forces at work? Beautifully shot (but with an acute sense of the mud and grime of the village) and with some fabulous acting from Taylor, Rutger Hauer (yes, you read right) and Sir Ian Holm this is a darkly compelling fantasy adventure with a sense of classic cinema about it..
Which makes The Nine Lives Of Thomas Katz such a surprise. For his second feature Hopkins eschews the formality of his previous film and goes for a gloriously chaotic and free-wheeling style which contains the gamut of genres from thriller to German Expressionism, from MTV promo to Ealing comedy. Here Thomas Fischer - in an absolutely astonishing performance - plays the eponymous title character who shifts from person to person as he attempts to bring about the apocalypse in London. Only the blind and spiritual police inspector (played with a hilarious air of bemusement by Ian McNeice) seems equipped to stop him. Just brimming with great ideas, moments of laugh out loud humour (Never has the line "Get the tea ladies," been mad so funny) and some moments of quite overwhelming beauty it's sheer energy and enthusiasm put many other films that managed to get wide distribution to shame. Does it make sense? Does it hell. But that's half the fun.
At the centre of both films is - obviously - Hopkins and the commentary who provides for both films are revealing though, sadly, sometimes for the wrong reasons. The Katz commentary - conducted in conjunction with Fischer seemingly a couple of years after the film had been made - is a funny affair which can be boiled down to Hopkins saying "What the fuck was I thinking of making and what the fucking hell are you idiots doing watching it?" Partly this seems to be a deliberate provocation towards the audience but also there's an element of being jaded here. Recorded at the time when the film was gaining critical plaudits but was being distributed in a way that could be generously be described as ham fisted must have been a frustrating experience (though the film was a massive hit in Germany).
The Magus commentary - seemingly recorded only a couple of years ago - is another bittersweet affair in which Hopkins admires the film but feels it's made by someone else, a someone else who was much more enthusiastic and hopeful about making films in the future.
Thankfully Hopkins has continued to make films and his excellent documentary 37 Uses For A Dead Sheep should be showing at festivals son. In the meantime, this brilliant DVD release (not only do you get both films but you also get Hopkins' award winning short National Achievement Day) will allow these films to be re-discovered and garner the respect that they deserve.
Enough (Theatrical review for The Leeds Guide, 2003)
It's obvious what needs to be done. All the Jennifer Lopez fans in the world need to unite. They need to write gushing fan letters about what an amazing singer she is. She needs to be told how people weep every time an angelic note comes from deep within her. The reason for this is simple: if that happens she'll concentrate on her singing career and J-Lo will spare the cinematic going public any more undue pain. Sorry music fans. It was you or us.
In Enough Lopez plays Slim, a waitress who meets and marries the charming Mitch. But it turns out that Mitchis not as charming as everyone thought: in fact he's a total psycho. Getting sick of the beatings, she grabs their daughter and goes on the run. Unfortuantely Mitchhas many resources and is constantly catching up to Slim. Luckily she discovers her real father, who just so happens to be a millionaire. He pays for her to take defence and martial arts classes so that she can turn the tables and administer a kicking to her ex. Why am I still writing this?
This takes the award as perhaps the year's most stupid movie. Directed with the subtlety of a sledge-hammer, Enough has a ridiculous plot and atrocious acting. Lopez comes across as totally stupid:. Are we meant to be surprised that Mitchturns out to be nuts? For goodness sake, the audience are waiting for him to grow a large moustache to twiddle, cackle evilly and attempt to tie Lopez to the train tracks. If you can (if) look past the ridiculous motivation of the characters, the script plot has holes large enough to fly Concorde through. Oh, and it's way of dealing with the subject of spousal abuse is derivative, childish and downright offensive.
Enough? I couldn't have put it better myself. Unless the film was entitled Utter Shite
In Enough Lopez plays Slim, a waitress who meets and marries the charming Mitch. But it turns out that Mitchis not as charming as everyone thought: in fact he's a total psycho. Getting sick of the beatings, she grabs their daughter and goes on the run. Unfortuantely Mitchhas many resources and is constantly catching up to Slim. Luckily she discovers her real father, who just so happens to be a millionaire. He pays for her to take defence and martial arts classes so that she can turn the tables and administer a kicking to her ex. Why am I still writing this?
This takes the award as perhaps the year's most stupid movie. Directed with the subtlety of a sledge-hammer, Enough has a ridiculous plot and atrocious acting. Lopez comes across as totally stupid:. Are we meant to be surprised that Mitchturns out to be nuts? For goodness sake, the audience are waiting for him to grow a large moustache to twiddle, cackle evilly and attempt to tie Lopez to the train tracks. If you can (if) look past the ridiculous motivation of the characters, the script plot has holes large enough to fly Concorde through. Oh, and it's way of dealing with the subject of spousal abuse is derivative, childish and downright offensive.
Enough? I couldn't have put it better myself. Unless the film was entitled Utter Shite
The Pianist (Theatrical review for HOTDOG Magazine, 2003)
Since his bitter disassociation from Hollywood in the late 70’s, Roman Polanski’s directorial career could be generously described as patchy. From interesting curios such as Death and the Maiden to overwrought failures like The Ninth Gate Polanski has rarely displayed the genius that so many of his early films promised.
With The Pianist the promise has finally been fulfilled. Set during the German occupation of Poland during World War II, the film concentrates on Wladyslaw Szpilman (Brody) a Jewish pianist who escapes deportation and is forced to survive in the ghettos of Warsaw.
Based on Szpilman’s written account of his experiences (and -one feels - some of Polanski’s, as he survived the ghettos as a young boy) the film eschews notions of politics and concentrates on the idea of survival in the most adverse of circumstances. Central to this is Brody’s stunning performance. Appearing in almost every scene in the movie he conveys with skill both the fear and determination of someone who will wants to live, no matter what.
The Pianist manages to both brutal (some of the atrocities committed in the course of the film are hard to watch) and beautiful in equal measure and an affirmation of the human spirit. In short, a triumph. Welcome back Mr Polanski.
With The Pianist the promise has finally been fulfilled. Set during the German occupation of Poland during World War II, the film concentrates on Wladyslaw Szpilman (Brody) a Jewish pianist who escapes deportation and is forced to survive in the ghettos of Warsaw.
Based on Szpilman’s written account of his experiences (and -one feels - some of Polanski’s, as he survived the ghettos as a young boy) the film eschews notions of politics and concentrates on the idea of survival in the most adverse of circumstances. Central to this is Brody’s stunning performance. Appearing in almost every scene in the movie he conveys with skill both the fear and determination of someone who will wants to live, no matter what.
The Pianist manages to both brutal (some of the atrocities committed in the course of the film are hard to watch) and beautiful in equal measure and an affirmation of the human spirit. In short, a triumph. Welcome back Mr Polanski.