tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6549073377952431862024-02-19T05:23:35.291+00:00Three men on a blogTom Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07174567275936628341noreply@blogger.comBlogger232125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-51901095995509019622012-01-02T01:26:00.005+00:002012-01-02T01:30:06.680+00:00Out with the Old, In with the NewHappy new year, belatedly :)<br /><br />Basically, I've started a new blog for all my film reviews, <a href="http://mumbyatthemovies.blogspot.com/">Mumby at the Movies</a>. My first review is now up there, and soon will be all the others I've had backlogging from 2011.<br /><br />I'll still be linking to posts on here, but there'll be no more new film-related posts on Three Men on a Blog. Thanks for all your input on here, it's greatly appreciated, here's to a great 2012 :)<br /><br />Daniel<div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-65231126059775846392012-01-01T18:36:00.009+00:002012-01-01T18:56:30.814+00:00Top 10 of 2011<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span>Happy new year everyone :)<br /><br />Since we're now into 2012, it's time for me to look back on the year that was and list my Top 10 of 2011.<br /><br />This last year I've had the opportunity to write for <a href="http://whatculture.com/">WhatCulture</a>, a really good website covering all things film, TV, gaming and much much more. I've send them my Top 10 and they've done a great job with it. Check it out here and leave a comment:<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span> <a href="http://whatculture.com/film/daniel-mumbys-top-10-films-of-2011.php">http://whatculture.com/film/daniel-mumbys-top-10-films-of-2011.php</a><span style="font-style: italic;">.<br /><br /></span></span>I've got a few reviews from 2011 backing up which I hope to have done soon. Here's to a good 2012 :)<br /><br />Daniel<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-15790914812974700522011-12-31T18:06:00.016+00:002011-12-31T18:48:19.497+00:00FILM REVIEW: The Deep Blue Sea (2011)<span style="font-weight: bold;">T</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">he Deep Blue Sea (UK, 2011)<br />Directed by Terence Davies<br />Starring Rachel Weisz, Simon Russell Beale, Tom Hiddleston, Ann Mitchell</span><br /><br />One of the hardest things to rationalise as a film reviewer is when a director you love suddenly gets it wrong. Reviewing the latest Michael Bay disaster, or Brett Ratner-driven slice of hackery, is pretty easy: simply string together four or five superlatives, add some moral outrage and leave it to stew in its own juices. What's not so easy is trying to explain how Terence Davies has gone from something as inspired as <span style="font-style: italic;">Of Time and the City </span>to such an abject failure in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Deep Blue Sea</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixehlJxPbpES8iPF2SmmancgklTsRZf03iTNbGj6GwW0XDtlwQsIGmwruSryDqPurMJAaDArVtkAOPCLah57GXLEDYQ3Cv6arE1CU_C0DHBxfaH98Fz-knQ1enQ1w9yIYEx8HGtABU-cg/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixehlJxPbpES8iPF2SmmancgklTsRZf03iTNbGj6GwW0XDtlwQsIGmwruSryDqPurMJAaDArVtkAOPCLah57GXLEDYQ3Cv6arE1CU_C0DHBxfaH98Fz-knQ1enQ1w9yIYEx8HGtABU-cg/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692363001162190354" border="0" /></a>Davies' output as a filmmaker has always been an acquired taste - which, in this context, is equally a loaded phrase and a straight-up compliment. Whether you like his back catalogue or not (and even he has mixed feelings), he has a distinctive voice and series of interests which set him apart from the mainstream. He has campaigned tirelessly for the promotion of British cinema, furiously refusing to accept the perceived dominance of Hollywood, both financially and artistically.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF8NAMTSM5-LIBNI14tgc8kfo2PTJWMnP3LG8RGDZUDk02Fwpfb4Xe7rHkXOtQshqWzLz8OTi4vDdQRXQko4fe2ZVVZ9SpD085hjCEs-tQguDIco_s6pCKvvgSrlieq0NDp0u_g2y-8B0/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF8NAMTSM5-LIBNI14tgc8kfo2PTJWMnP3LG8RGDZUDk02Fwpfb4Xe7rHkXOtQshqWzLz8OTi4vDdQRXQko4fe2ZVVZ9SpD085hjCEs-tQguDIco_s6pCKvvgSrlieq0NDp0u_g2y-8B0/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692363467788894098" border="0" /></a>You couldn't put the failure of Davies' latest film down to him being out of his depth. He has dabbled in period drama before, most prominently in <span style="font-style: italic;">The House of Mirth</span> 11 years ago. But more than that, he has an intrinsic understanding of 1950s Britain, retaining both a childlike fondness of its cinema and a very real understanding of its social problems, which he experienced as a child. Davies has frequently described his father as "psychotic", and in <span style="font-style: italic;">Of Time and the City</span> he painfully records both the realisation of his homosexuality and his disillusionment with religion.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkVQ35xihxuIpgarSSaIngB5ZtnMG6AkhQrcp1zANFcu32uwmkmlwSv8gThz6O6BDSuoBvNhC3odCt_DyJs41JKogYhFbfCsmRvyeVeJNFhqt-UUXkhRDTmFQCJQg5DPg9KbQWZW8pMo/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkVQ35xihxuIpgarSSaIngB5ZtnMG6AkhQrcp1zANFcu32uwmkmlwSv8gThz6O6BDSuoBvNhC3odCt_DyJs41JKogYhFbfCsmRvyeVeJNFhqt-UUXkhRDTmFQCJQg5DPg9KbQWZW8pMo/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692363987464313778" border="0" /></a>One thing that <span style="font-style: italic;">The Deep Blue Sea</span> has clearly in its favour is the way it looks. Florian Hoffmeister's cinematography is lush, glossy and full of rich colours, which somewhat evokes the work of the late great Jack Cardiff. The period details are immaculate, whether it's the costumes the characters wear or the songs they sing in the pub. It's not, or at least it doesn't appear to be, a pretend version of 1950s Britain, either dreamt up by the tourist board or dropped in from Hollywood.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUpH0sv3zgxDqDVZ1iSWDZuJ42mDoj6YPEIVnBDPHXbfnB-7sDzRdfspxHcjp2iJm7Zw7GbTdi0flfMqRp1O1xybhnMyQmj-jXuOsAij1uKKTsJ-s2HIiBkAiDn4Y1l9pzVLWtBrvIe8/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUpH0sv3zgxDqDVZ1iSWDZuJ42mDoj6YPEIVnBDPHXbfnB-7sDzRdfspxHcjp2iJm7Zw7GbTdi0flfMqRp1O1xybhnMyQmj-jXuOsAij1uKKTsJ-s2HIiBkAiDn4Y1l9pzVLWtBrvIe8/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692363881264592914" border="0" /></a>Equally compelling is Davies' choice of music. His films have been described as having a "symphonic" quality, which goes back not just to 1950s melodrama but to the silent films which ultimately inspired them. In this case Davies turns to Samuel Barber, peppering many of Rachel Weisz's scenes with those long, elegiac strokes of the bow for which Barber was rightly famed. You won't find the now-clichéd <span style="font-style: italic;">Adagio for Strings</span> sneaking in under the radar, but what there is works resoundingly well.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tYzATVi0uFHLfKhiVKXUF2oNsO4oqApG_CQDOQz8B1_fAvZsNXmASLkMr_EtsLg-Wcv_eIJ52DBBnRIAGdYGQw8bCQHNrk_OMNrpn-TLbzN3QBJcECYkjy4D1H_AthsjzATGAJ3X3-4/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tYzATVi0uFHLfKhiVKXUF2oNsO4oqApG_CQDOQz8B1_fAvZsNXmASLkMr_EtsLg-Wcv_eIJ52DBBnRIAGdYGQw8bCQHNrk_OMNrpn-TLbzN3QBJcECYkjy4D1H_AthsjzATGAJ3X3-4/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692363668849839938" border="0" /></a>But for all its lavish grandiosity, the big failing of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Deep Blue Sea</span> is something so ironically simple: we just don't care about any of the people on screen. Whether because of the source material, the performances or Davies' approach to either, this is a damning indictment of Davies as a filmmaker. What has united all of his work in the past is an intrinsic connection to the characters - we can empathise with and understand them even in the most fantastical situations. This is the first film which Davies has made in which we have no connection to the characters at all, unless 'connection' can include emotions like contempt, anger and disdain.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgNzv_IbOZ5rIJY_JRwEcAcC_ouHb5FX1S3WxLKFrw_jQzz0ClSlmPY9Cdck_vmi-lnJ7uFHoF8TRbAckKUPJp0XhgCiGzI7vYFHvpds1nNi0CETL_DtmwNrajQuYpl5JkxyNp2MfATM/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgNzv_IbOZ5rIJY_JRwEcAcC_ouHb5FX1S3WxLKFrw_jQzz0ClSlmPY9Cdck_vmi-lnJ7uFHoF8TRbAckKUPJp0XhgCiGzI7vYFHvpds1nNi0CETL_DtmwNrajQuYpl5JkxyNp2MfATM/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692363198880222930" border="0" /></a>Part of the problem lies in the casting of Rachel Weisz. Davies said that she was the only person who could play Hester Collyer, and looking at her you can understand why. Weisz does have a kind of classical beauty which recalls Deborah Kerr, and she wears period costume very well. But while she may look the part, she fails completely on a dramatic level, leaving us annoyed by every word and action of hers on screen.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEoJxKs8hrPbPAio2CqUWCDGbdRUdVuHGetyp9ghpWx-yy82g509g01frWbzNGGs-E2AeSzIkOnUdVKrjvQrOWcOrgpqT0Mu68fJRu6isHKnsH-rpRWp9MoC_0SW7R4BRcHbXBJUzmg_Y/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 295px; height: 171px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEoJxKs8hrPbPAio2CqUWCDGbdRUdVuHGetyp9ghpWx-yy82g509g01frWbzNGGs-E2AeSzIkOnUdVKrjvQrOWcOrgpqT0Mu68fJRu6isHKnsH-rpRWp9MoC_0SW7R4BRcHbXBJUzmg_Y/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692364071700687314" border="0" /></a>When Weisz was performing in <span style="font-style: italic;">A Streetcar Named Desire</span>, she gave an interview bemoaning the lack of dramatic filmmaking in Hollywood. She pointed to the paucity of adventurous drama in a time of obsession with genre, and in particular to a dearth of decent female leads. It's hard to argue against that, but someone urgently needs to tell her that 'drama' and 'moaning for two hours' are not the same thing. Hester does nothing but cry, moan, scream, smoke and stare mournfully into middle distance. Weisz is worse here than she is in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Lovely Bones</span>, so much so that at times you wish her character would just get on with it and top herself.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEbm8yDwRKacYE-a5CAuUbctTXSJYfSzfTsF7Hyp3bLcfLzwMz53ZRcZMR9BH7jMMPE8akxHFjRWOg3vggawBAfh849ZLkRnvcsCOWcyrdm07-_Z-vTH_AdZtEXx0yzDScOCZRIrywOw/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEbm8yDwRKacYE-a5CAuUbctTXSJYfSzfTsF7Hyp3bLcfLzwMz53ZRcZMR9BH7jMMPE8akxHFjRWOg3vggawBAfh849ZLkRnvcsCOWcyrdm07-_Z-vTH_AdZtEXx0yzDScOCZRIrywOw/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692363092261399170" border="0" /></a>The male characters in the film fare no better. Simon Russell Beale is a very talented Shakespearean actor, and as with Weisz he looks the part as the elderly judge firmly in his mother's pocket. But he very quickly drifts into a stiff-upper-lip stereotype, as the film makes no effort to challenge our expectations of his occupation or social standing. Tom Hiddleston gets an equally duff hand, starting and ending as a caricature, namely the pilot who can't get over the war and return to a normal life.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcrCx8NWTtdjN_pZjE54PJC2bu3eL76oXxoSMX7zW3YeXAUWXYKcs3CTm0mwTJphaM5VlohIXxKk4RBuI6zsO0AuFH5qjxRlEdixzxB2z2vzP8SCWaN0FkJqNAmsrK746CAUQrA2SeDQ/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcrCx8NWTtdjN_pZjE54PJC2bu3eL76oXxoSMX7zW3YeXAUWXYKcs3CTm0mwTJphaM5VlohIXxKk4RBuI6zsO0AuFH5qjxRlEdixzxB2z2vzP8SCWaN0FkJqNAmsrK746CAUQrA2SeDQ/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692363794083677730" border="0" /></a>It would be tempting in light of this to put Davies in the same camp as Noah Baumbach. He is guilty of the same cardinal sin of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Squid and the Whale</span>: giving us a film without any empathetic characters, let alone an interesting story. The difference is that Baumbach seems to have genuine contempt for his audience, branding them as philistines if they don't understand why it is engaging to watch over-privileged pseudo-intellectuals whinging about their massive houses and expensive educations. Davies shows no such contempt: he has just mis-steped in such a dramatic way that this would appear to be the case.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfTu-NEhDz76ecPlgA0FM3z76qSPZ3cbkpXv6yWZh8-7yIU_ybJoy6iDS4f1g6HyUrfY9WUg1ADnvYSJYVFy8-Hf6HtZbPNJnrFIRmNI55jj9feBwIK5TQJX-34Oz1vw-DMSoindadnM/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfTu-NEhDz76ecPlgA0FM3z76qSPZ3cbkpXv6yWZh8-7yIU_ybJoy6iDS4f1g6HyUrfY9WUg1ADnvYSJYVFy8-Hf6HtZbPNJnrFIRmNI55jj9feBwIK5TQJX-34Oz1vw-DMSoindadnM/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692364254765205970" border="0" /></a>One could argue that the failure of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Deep Blue Sea</span> is a failure of the source material rather than its cinematic execution. Terence Rattigan's later work, written after the Second World War, is by and large dated and uninteresting. Early-1950s theatre was an empty and nostalgic celebration of pre-war life, with plays which seemed to lack any bearing on or interest in reality. <span style="font-style: italic;">The Deep Blue Sea</span> is no exception, and its celebration of the British stiff-upper-lip feels horribly stale in 2011.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqopP33BXXFzpHXQK-ebXX8IhCtG_YXORGi6GPd0I0bMN4bxW5pIOX496EWNMgDYvDavv9sq79N0Wh9sGeZvaZRs1yMvd5TFop8nWWsLdr77if1T3af36ZiWnjwnZUFREUA4NMjvOoAhc/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqopP33BXXFzpHXQK-ebXX8IhCtG_YXORGi6GPd0I0bMN4bxW5pIOX496EWNMgDYvDavv9sq79N0Wh9sGeZvaZRs1yMvd5TFop8nWWsLdr77if1T3af36ZiWnjwnZUFREUA4NMjvOoAhc/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692364472865059074" border="0" /></a>While all of this is true, however, the responsibility of making a film work ultimately lies with its director. There have been many filmmakers which have taken average scripts and acquitted themselves perfectly well: either of John Hillcoat's films are reasonable examples. But Davies makes the fatal error of assuming that we should care or be interested, rather than giving us any reason to of its own accord. He plays everything so straight that there is no way in for a modern audience, for whom the wartime attitudes seem at best admirably outdated and at worst totally absurd.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYqh4dni4oTem_mVRdyaPDavrIUZza3y_45a6eBPI1VYlsJvXx20FfLVeHyaDmNxE8XxJOVTgtY1t-LBS_RgrXbrk5pH-4WdBnZTdcXngYTi5pNlXtGeaznDvF3FTDvp6Avno0OMe2XXw/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYqh4dni4oTem_mVRdyaPDavrIUZza3y_45a6eBPI1VYlsJvXx20FfLVeHyaDmNxE8XxJOVTgtY1t-LBS_RgrXbrk5pH-4WdBnZTdcXngYTi5pNlXtGeaznDvF3FTDvp6Avno0OMe2XXw/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692365554992802114" border="0" /></a>The big dramatic problem with <span style="font-style: italic;">The Deep Blue Sea</span> lies in Hester's frustration or repression - something Weisz would know all about from<span style="font-style: italic;"> A Streetcar Named Desire</span>. If you're going to show repression, there has to be a pay-off or some form of character development to make all this pressure worthwhile, whether it's a happy ending or a lonely suicide. But this moment never arrives; the central relationship is tedious, unbelievable, and goes absolutely nowhere.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GZYNnOa8sgj5T0wpWG-T98qRyRYouNKX11vcEpzrBQLq-vCY3TczCporPBC0Z07fcPwYk3mNCBgdwOXFYtLt45hVIGHZDsCTYFzbIsR-wrDkVjCQJMmlFdXM6oY6XVSJG6u7kOkHOBA/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GZYNnOa8sgj5T0wpWG-T98qRyRYouNKX11vcEpzrBQLq-vCY3TczCporPBC0Z07fcPwYk3mNCBgdwOXFYtLt45hVIGHZDsCTYFzbIsR-wrDkVjCQJMmlFdXM6oY6XVSJG6u7kOkHOBA/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692365966528292450" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Deep Blue Sea</span> reminds us of two great periods of British filmmaking. Firstly, it recalls the great work of Powell and Pressburger in the 1940s and early-1950s, as they grabbed the conventions of melodrama by the scruff of the neck and produced works of profundity, nuance and visual splendour. And secondly, it reminds us just how important the British New Wave was in eroding these conventions, removing the veils of ignorance, escapism and denial which blighted so much of 1950s cinema.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRypE-gLSqbH3avOtN-l0CnSKHzXId7r4ArBBOYUPAwcrwXj473K-wErknis9hnVNYaA79yhelYTKh6oEKM9CdF8lNsplcO4C1BSDSnvGOuetWO5M5nQ9PS7fi6y_EZLaJiBQ8MLBzas/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRypE-gLSqbH3avOtN-l0CnSKHzXId7r4ArBBOYUPAwcrwXj473K-wErknis9hnVNYaA79yhelYTKh6oEKM9CdF8lNsplcO4C1BSDSnvGOuetWO5M5nQ9PS7fi6y_EZLaJiBQ8MLBzas/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692366125517060418" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Deep Blue Sea</span> is caught between the devil and its title, lacking the brilliance of the former and the relevance of the latter. You sit there amongst the tedious story and annoying characters, yearning for Malcolm McDowell to burst in brandishing a machine gun and inform the characters that the world they knew and fought for is long gone. Only time will tell how damaging this will prove to Davies' craft as a filmmaker. It is at very best an admirable failure, being a beautifully shot folly for an audience that no longer exists.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=15stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/15stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Verdict: An absolute and obsolete calamity<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-7730369686722807032011-12-26T18:03:00.021+00:002011-12-26T21:10:45.418+00:00FILM REVIEW: Dances with Wolves (1990)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Dances with Wolves (USA, 1990)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Kevin Costner</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Starring Kevin Costner, Mary McDonnell, Graham Greene, Rodney A. Grant</span><br /><br />It may be a clichéd complaint, but more often than not the Academy has got the Best Picture Oscar dead wrong. Sometimes, as with <span style="font-style: italic;">Crash</span>, their mistake is obvious and the outcry is instant; on other occasions, as with <span style="font-style: italic;">Citizen Kane</span>, both the Academy and the public have taken time to see the error of their ways. And then we have <span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves</span>, which beat Goodfellas to the big gong to deny Martin Scorsese his Oscar for a third time. While not as crass a mistake as the others, time has not been kind to Kevin Costner's debut, which now seems long on principle but short on actual story.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfn5aLotkKIbYsswi0OutAjG7oWy2f4_0KIxGheVlIJQuNNQfJya7S4_IRke0oQRLXZsAhsyEZIF3jMlMpO6yg2iyJH2YHakho_OMF68Vn_ZnXiWfGLI0fGfVAjvBSSI8nryoQCkDmVPs/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 289px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfn5aLotkKIbYsswi0OutAjG7oWy2f4_0KIxGheVlIJQuNNQfJya7S4_IRke0oQRLXZsAhsyEZIF3jMlMpO6yg2iyJH2YHakho_OMF68Vn_ZnXiWfGLI0fGfVAjvBSSI8nryoQCkDmVPs/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690521010852415474" border="0" /></a>The obvious way to prey on<span style="font-style: italic;"> Dances with Wolves</span> would be to attack Costner's subsequent career. His later efforts behind the camera have left a lot to be desired, with <span style="font-style: italic;">Waterworld</span> running hugely over budget and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Postman</span> being the dictionary definition of tedious. His acting style and drawling delivery suggest a man who takes himself far too seriously, rivalling only Nicolas Cage for stony-faced absurdity. But a quick glance at his back catalogue reveals a slightly more complicated picture. Lest we forget, Costner was once an admired and popular actor, who acquitted himself perfectly well in <span style="font-style: italic;">No Way Out</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Untouchables</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Field of Dreams</span>. And for all the gaping flaws in his directorial efforts, you could never accuse him of going in with anything but the very best intentions.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnXBAtb2eNlDIu0-SACUy3Dsy0Rxt3eFnkNBeuWthba1ba2-er1PkhZJO11_ypAneOabxoMhjri8REfIc5c2RkRyJAaAx5_eSYkCT5jNkUMwUOlRdVSgrtk2YdFiwbx5wEPIQ_rdpttM/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnXBAtb2eNlDIu0-SACUy3Dsy0Rxt3eFnkNBeuWthba1ba2-er1PkhZJO11_ypAneOabxoMhjri8REfIc5c2RkRyJAaAx5_eSYkCT5jNkUMwUOlRdVSgrtk2YdFiwbx5wEPIQ_rdpttM/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690546451108594306" border="0" /></a>The most obvious quality of <span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves</span> is that it is very even-handed towards its subject matter. It approaches the relationship between Native Americans and American soldiers with the same restraint and intelligence that Clint Eastwood applied to the subject of revenge in <span style="font-style: italic;">Unforgiven</span>. There has clearly been a lot of effort expended by Costner and the writer Michael Blake to get away from the clichéd depiction of Native Americans as a backward, violent people, who deserved everything they got from the brave, civilised white men driving them off the land in the name of God and Progress.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXLmC5vZ6nepDNWT1UaTdL1SxqIYEV_UcUpqIes96KmR_IqrgGiSZi4zYmDswczLAAR2rbnDqfKOq_EyYdKKhnjAnUZ43egvnLXW6fczWkctJwkudODy7Jcy9RQBOjemdxzQn7bA68wg/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 293px; height: 172px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXLmC5vZ6nepDNWT1UaTdL1SxqIYEV_UcUpqIes96KmR_IqrgGiSZi4zYmDswczLAAR2rbnDqfKOq_EyYdKKhnjAnUZ43egvnLXW6fczWkctJwkudODy7Jcy9RQBOjemdxzQn7bA68wg/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690546550534712594" border="0" /></a>You also have to applaud Costner's ambition as a director. There are few actors, let alone big stars, who would have taken on such a big project first time out. Costner was shooting in mostly external locations for four months, including several elaborate sequences with hundreds of real horses and buffalo. His commitment was such that he nearly broke his back from doing his own stunts, and stumped up over $3m of his own money to cover the costs incurred by bad weather. Costner was prepared to take risks with <span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves</span>, and that deserves praise regardless of whether the film works or not.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-BUQYF997WBqu8i63CGFLii2Z3Fq_lJ8ZvG8srmGf4pGQWCFhwjitkLdxAA6rSx9b6UjWDQQ69iqRLVzDMz9GVuqzs1Wqp3LOhI5KREWeyWH-CkjPzqkeXRM-gXl4bxLtj4MsE-Enoo/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-BUQYF997WBqu8i63CGFLii2Z3Fq_lJ8ZvG8srmGf4pGQWCFhwjitkLdxAA6rSx9b6UjWDQQ69iqRLVzDMz9GVuqzs1Wqp3LOhI5KREWeyWH-CkjPzqkeXRM-gXl4bxLtj4MsE-Enoo/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690546078589002898" border="0" /></a>A further point of admiration comes in Costner's decision to have much of the dialogue spoken in the Lakota language. The fact that the film grossed more than $400m worldwide, and $184m domestically, is a massive raspberry to the notion that Western audiences won't pay to watch films that aren't in the English language. But it also proves that the respect for the different cultures within the film is genuine, not just a device for boosting Costner's artistic standing. This remains the case even after Russell Means pointed out the flawed translations, which left all the men in the film speaking in the female Sioux dialect.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJtK4VpIvCs8rioTKg4H36gYAqKUdc2rT8prn6q9PIU1gM88yMuNnbJUH-_WZqIDiYHK1Dcqq6c6viWlpQ4wGEqN3GuDJZjyzSCRDXQMW-rvUT8hbui2R98wsMEgGVeG6kQv0vBCEgJk/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 271px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJtK4VpIvCs8rioTKg4H36gYAqKUdc2rT8prn6q9PIU1gM88yMuNnbJUH-_WZqIDiYHK1Dcqq6c6viWlpQ4wGEqN3GuDJZjyzSCRDXQMW-rvUT8hbui2R98wsMEgGVeG6kQv0vBCEgJk/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690546342759486402" border="0" /></a>In terms of the admiration it generates, <span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves</span> is in the same league as <span style="font-style: italic;">Battle of Britain</span> in terms of pure good will. But like <span style="font-style: italic;">Battle of Britain</span>, this admiration does not guarantee good drama, and little by little Costner's film begins to look earnest to the point of being dul. It ends up stuck halfway between <span style="font-style: italic;">Unforgiven</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Heaven's Gate</span>, being neither as gripping nor elegiac as the former, nor as wretchedly pretentious as the latter. It never becomes as well-meaningly dull as <span style="font-style: italic;">Battle of Britain</span>, but its flaws in terms of pacing and emotion cannot help but prey on our minds.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQvY7dwSyOy1xLrZ1MB5MwZfvORwZQ9L8-06uxQLE9_kmwzfZUvtUZ9PywvfKCB2tjmyufGA_odndHpT4h5nszMWIQnyAIPnOQ67CC0XhhSJpWdxijxZU-omFyCgX-xxfK42ou9BEBdE/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQvY7dwSyOy1xLrZ1MB5MwZfvORwZQ9L8-06uxQLE9_kmwzfZUvtUZ9PywvfKCB2tjmyufGA_odndHpT4h5nszMWIQnyAIPnOQ67CC0XhhSJpWdxijxZU-omFyCgX-xxfK42ou9BEBdE/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690521105084772626" border="0" /></a>The first 45 minutes of <span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves </span>are very slow and very portentous. Costner is clearly pulling out all the stops to make us admire and believe in the character of John Dunbar, but he ends up both trying too hard and not enough. The opening battle sequence features Costner attempting suicide by riding straight at the Confederate front line with his arms held out in a messianic pose - a decision which results in sniggers or sneers rather than feelings of empathy. In the various scenes that follow, where Dunbar is sent out to the frontier, too much effort is expended trying to express his bravery and not enough made on showing him as a rounded human being.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnAxGXGjU13cInwVyqbwRkGqBHhhPxqxj9xpk9wJm8WxlwAoIj7b4B_BZuyb4v944UbSImKvMM80uxWNipKTYXQzVtRrCzXD5HtQ9-aup3eLP3UZj2XBWJRlzb6ONTx9sPRrVvNCQB7c/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnAxGXGjU13cInwVyqbwRkGqBHhhPxqxj9xpk9wJm8WxlwAoIj7b4B_BZuyb4v944UbSImKvMM80uxWNipKTYXQzVtRrCzXD5HtQ9-aup3eLP3UZj2XBWJRlzb6ONTx9sPRrVvNCQB7c/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690546843373891426" border="0" /></a>When I reviewed <span style="font-style: italic;">(500) Days of Summer</span>, I argued that the presence of a narrator in any kind of film creates an element of certainty which can sometimes work against dramatic tension. In the case of <span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves</span>, one could argue it is necessary since the diary is integral to the later stages of the plot. But while it is partially justified on a narrative level, Costner's delivery of it is frankly third-rate. His readings feel rushed and increasingly desperate, as he tries to convey the gravity of the situation without much success.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxigMBTEKH_BCyQVoS1bxiePp0lxUIaj5lFQUEGWF6r4iXgnnJw-NiQQ1pljBJ_5kzuH0g4u47o-TrLDNSiF_ZhzVk85ZwVzUh_AC-r5SkCVxwhD74bLqQyjhi_KxegKXGc8ML-2QzPA/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxigMBTEKH_BCyQVoS1bxiePp0lxUIaj5lFQUEGWF6r4iXgnnJw-NiQQ1pljBJ_5kzuH0g4u47o-TrLDNSiF_ZhzVk85ZwVzUh_AC-r5SkCVxwhD74bLqQyjhi_KxegKXGc8ML-2QzPA/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690547197085064242" border="0" /></a>The narration aside, there is precious little about <span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves </span>which is rushed. At just over 3 hours long (4 hours in its Director's Cut), comparisons with <span style="font-style: italic;">Heaven's Gate</span> are unavoidable; the project was even nicknamed 'Kevin's Gate' after the production delays were leaked to the press. Costner's film is nowhere near as baggy as <span style="font-style: italic;">Heaven's Gate</span>, let alone as self-serving, but it is every bit as drawn out, especially in its final act. Had Kevin gone through with a pair of scissors and lost even 30 seconds from every scene, it would have made a world of difference.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SpnEgZgHCsf5j67ipM9x8WmFQQL5sHq6QFA9MA2Tuj91XNUvbnyKy7wDMo5FwS5GYf3V3tOspWaHT5ho5CyCMJ2o5rR7zQrwoxueSTahd_WScoVu-zhyAF0I7op6uLM2XSJ3Ype8J8k/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SpnEgZgHCsf5j67ipM9x8WmFQQL5sHq6QFA9MA2Tuj91XNUvbnyKy7wDMo5FwS5GYf3V3tOspWaHT5ho5CyCMJ2o5rR7zQrwoxueSTahd_WScoVu-zhyAF0I7op6uLM2XSJ3Ype8J8k/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690546689098968594" border="0" /></a>The biggest problem with <span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves</span> is that it constantly tells us how important the events are without doing enough to show us why this is the case. There are many beautiful or poignant images throughout, from the hundreds of dead buffalo lying on the plains to the couple's departure from the winter camp. But these images don't carry the weight that they should because we haven't invested enough in the characters to make them any more than pretty compositions.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CnLVB-N0O3Gw2A5T4S1v5wSrXyBaN96Nb74WujIzXGfIUlC2BU-g16OYcSssYV-cPMSrJCSvmgv-LkJi3OfKhHhlnKqcL4M9K-JmPsUbZIo9XCVTWH_Oa9RmNPO-QZCt3AVPEJyMRkc/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CnLVB-N0O3Gw2A5T4S1v5wSrXyBaN96Nb74WujIzXGfIUlC2BU-g16OYcSssYV-cPMSrJCSvmgv-LkJi3OfKhHhlnKqcL4M9K-JmPsUbZIo9XCVTWH_Oa9RmNPO-QZCt3AVPEJyMRkc/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690547379242588706" border="0" /></a>The film is so respectful towards the Sioux that it is almost hesitant to scratch the surface and ask the difficult questions about how their society works, such as the relationship between fathers and sons, and the position of women. This is understandable up to a point, considering the negative depiction of Native Americans in Hollywood throughout the 20th century - a fact which, if you believe Marlon Brando, led him to turn down his second Oscar. But you would think that if Costner were brave enough to embark on something of such scale and ambition, the last thing he would be worried about was mildly offending people.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLOMpxvnz2RgSEmrLV7JUZqkYeNrgDp03lMGtGxRH2cMICV4kTE0JXTV2z4j-tbHAXca5AnPFubCasZo3Yj7lKOTQDNB5ky2xz81dPn9EQts48-vckPljxV1tR5HDbyBUfBcpy3Fi7sU/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 281px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLOMpxvnz2RgSEmrLV7JUZqkYeNrgDp03lMGtGxRH2cMICV4kTE0JXTV2z4j-tbHAXca5AnPFubCasZo3Yj7lKOTQDNB5ky2xz81dPn9EQts48-vckPljxV1tR5HDbyBUfBcpy3Fi7sU/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690546180125090562" border="0" /></a>Fortunately, the film does pick up after the first 45 minutes and has moments where the action and characters do take flight. Many of these scenes find Costner willing to let his hair down, whether it's dancing with Two Socks around the camp fire or giving audiences a clear view of his naked bottom. It is hard not to get swept up in the chases scene across the plains, diligently matched by John Barry's stirring score. And some of the lighter moments within the camp help us to relax as well; when Dunbar interrupts Kicking Bird's nearby lovemaking, Graham Greene's facial expression says it all.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYz3s0e5LgpvQ80l-O9ESAIC4SR3yZTxnCXlSUvrqEqNh8jKhhke6-BJjmi5BfSAyiXR80-33h2mn_Ut-ZPuKochMgnWNRkDeiT2QJGMG7DReBxMsECoqK1QxMeMt8IPbJAhjtwfEbX5g/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYz3s0e5LgpvQ80l-O9ESAIC4SR3yZTxnCXlSUvrqEqNh8jKhhke6-BJjmi5BfSAyiXR80-33h2mn_Ut-ZPuKochMgnWNRkDeiT2QJGMG7DReBxMsECoqK1QxMeMt8IPbJAhjtwfEbX5g/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690546984884590226" border="0" /></a>The romantic aspect of <span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves</span> is well-played for an epic, if only because the central relationship develops at a reasonable rate. We don't get that agonising sensation as in <span style="font-style: italic;">Out of Africa</span>, where we know the characters are meant to kiss and are begging them to get on with it. The scenes of Stands with a Fist interpreting between Dunbar and Kicking Bird are well-played, serving their purpose while conveying the sexual tension between the characters. Their relationship conveys the conflicted identity of the central characters and the possibility of future harmony between the nations.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPlhUlAGcWFj-gcwinzbQKAP9PZZCEh3UEM6Dv764KLmSo9wT2uYlVnLPqhTWZO8n-AsN-diiE9AI4Ez13oNLY_86WeSUqVAvqVUOZSS9ut3ObdhdNo0JdrkcNCL17ce1pAFIhtR1SR8/s1600/16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPlhUlAGcWFj-gcwinzbQKAP9PZZCEh3UEM6Dv764KLmSo9wT2uYlVnLPqhTWZO8n-AsN-diiE9AI4Ez13oNLY_86WeSUqVAvqVUOZSS9ut3ObdhdNo0JdrkcNCL17ce1pAFIhtR1SR8/s320/16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690521200166430882" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Dances with Wolves </span>is ultimately a very middling film. It's too long to adequately serve its story, but not so long that we lose all patience with it. Its respect for its characters undercuts the drama, but not to the extent that we sit there drifting into a coma. And its direction is uninvolving, but not in an artsy, egotistical way. Calling it an average or ordinary film is to belie Costner's ambition, but any higher praise is impossible in light of its flaws. It remains significant but not stirring, admirable but not engaging, important but not profound.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=3stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/3stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Admirable but not always engaging</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-25788540878948601572011-12-25T21:55:00.013+00:002011-12-25T22:45:59.225+00:00FILM REVIEW: Silent Running (1972)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Silent Running (USA, 1972)</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directed by Doug Trumball</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Bruce Dern, Cliff Potts, Ron Rifkin, Jesse Vint</span><br /><br />It's long been fashionable for film reviewers to slag off films for being sentimental. The problem is not so much the notion of sentimentality in and of itself, as the context and manner in which it is applied. Criticising Steven Spielberg for being sentimental is simultaneously apt and foolish - apt when it meddles with or cheapens a dark subject matter, as with <span style="font-style: italic;">Schindler's List</span>, but foolish when it is complimentary and integral, as with <span style="font-style: italic;">E.T</span>. or <span style="font-style: italic;">Close Encounters</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSFiOO14BREvJUlhclp5LJOndX-ISL52moRwoyJi_eJL7hh5g0tOuxLGx-euDMWSKP7TT4AhfE5xaRRLzYfAMkO4kVmNOuWjb02EaYxaZz06Ef4HXuUFbeSI1HmQQ2_eZRjOSgXR68jE/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 187px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSFiOO14BREvJUlhclp5LJOndX-ISL52moRwoyJi_eJL7hh5g0tOuxLGx-euDMWSKP7TT4AhfE5xaRRLzYfAMkO4kVmNOuWjb02EaYxaZz06Ef4HXuUFbeSI1HmQQ2_eZRjOSgXR68jE/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690199045070927362" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span>'s reputation has suffered from a similar stigma, namely that a grown-up science fiction film with serious thematic intentions cannot bow to something as feeble as human emotion. The clichéd view of 1970s science fiction, created by <span style="font-style: italic;">2001 </span>and cemented by <span style="font-style: italic;"> Solaris</span>, is one of a cold, clinical, existential world where any concession to audience emotion is strictly verboten. But while such an approach worked wonders for Stanley Kubrick and Andrei Tarkovsky, <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span> is still a damn fine film which proves that substance and sentimentality can go together.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Ha93m5508rzCLmPCMRxepsgA5zIivGoutVwbSyeItGg4ojWg7Gk2-R6ahmYm2jTHOisqnLprqmx1VGzjNrTfqFL_1Vzu6-pqi4isqlJdCX_s6Z3r5DCFoh6SWtb7YNLdalOy9yTyx1U/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 303px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Ha93m5508rzCLmPCMRxepsgA5zIivGoutVwbSyeItGg4ojWg7Gk2-R6ahmYm2jTHOisqnLprqmx1VGzjNrTfqFL_1Vzu6-pqi4isqlJdCX_s6Z3r5DCFoh6SWtb7YNLdalOy9yTyx1U/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690199415887717090" border="0" /></a>Doug Trumball made <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span> in direct response to the perceived coldness and clinical precision of <span style="font-style: italic;">2001</span>. Having created many of the special effects on Kubrick's film, including the iconic star-gate sequence, he sought to make a film about the future of humanity in which computers and apes were not the most human characters. Where Kubrick's films focussed on Mankind, Trumball wishes to look at people as individuals. And where Kubrick balanced Humanity's physical insignificance with its God-like potential, Trumball praises Man's capacity for compassion even in the face of insignificance, disinterest or despair.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxefddq-lKvhLbEUs5j53QAapD8R5bgEvdNV0WS9nBpp2MfRJXGNTb1NajWcFfNd9WeD2JNQtDa3QIGhjgt9-D8lRBCZvtdTwl8XJobrs3aQaw4CjqOZLxYDncJbEBnrYSz80cVtbT2cc/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxefddq-lKvhLbEUs5j53QAapD8R5bgEvdNV0WS9nBpp2MfRJXGNTb1NajWcFfNd9WeD2JNQtDa3QIGhjgt9-D8lRBCZvtdTwl8XJobrs3aQaw4CjqOZLxYDncJbEBnrYSz80cVtbT2cc/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690199328642292482" border="0" /></a>If one was feel as cold and calculating as HAL, one could easily dismiss <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span> as nothing more than 'hippies in space'. Being a product of the early-1970s, when America was experiencing the death throes of hippie culture, such connotations are to some extent inevitable. It is undoubtedly true that Bruce Dern's character conforms to popular, if cynical, stereotypes of hippies, from his loose-fitting clothing and drawling delivery to his obsession with nature which many (the crew included) would consider unhealthy.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRm4H3ELW_vSLNQCOtF1mmur8ymW5mu2bkepf_npjmDJWhOmqM66lmTB3ZJVBqmwtVaCZao11JoQqW7rxwMPtfAo-8UEZgg5RyH620pKdxEe-zaHeS8HhZEFsMsggg_Zj473ydGcfR1g4/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRm4H3ELW_vSLNQCOtF1mmur8ymW5mu2bkepf_npjmDJWhOmqM66lmTB3ZJVBqmwtVaCZao11JoQqW7rxwMPtfAo-8UEZgg5RyH620pKdxEe-zaHeS8HhZEFsMsggg_Zj473ydGcfR1g4/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690199580636179474" border="0" /></a>One of the problems with <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span> from this point of view is its questionable attitude towards mankind in the pursuit of pro-nature or 'hippie' ideals. The position towards technology is ambivalent; Dern yearns for a monastic existence where Man eats the fruits of His own labours, but it is ultimately the machines which sustain the forest. More problematic is the implication that preserving nature is more important than human life, to the point where murdering his crewmates appears to be justified. The film could be making the point that one has to go the hard yards in the name of one's principles, but it remains questionable whether in its content or its presentation.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSznHVgW5uhMQ6IUS4HnOd-qqJ1KX32QSzZmaqS8U4pMQ_HCD8chUNOYb4ePWMtjmUatxqEd_zSo_9CrN3mCzCao_HJ-o3LKgO3Bn54K2bDvfKjRD73VbonPHotG-tNK4dGt-7DtCfOSY/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSznHVgW5uhMQ6IUS4HnOd-qqJ1KX32QSzZmaqS8U4pMQ_HCD8chUNOYb4ePWMtjmUatxqEd_zSo_9CrN3mCzCao_HJ-o3LKgO3Bn54K2bDvfKjRD73VbonPHotG-tNK4dGt-7DtCfOSY/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690199727208154562" border="0" /></a>But if we put this immediate concern to the back of our minds, <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span>'s ecological theme emerges as more than a simple choice between Nature and Man, or Man and Machine. It is more prominently a film about harmony, about how the march of progress has made humans overly dependent on technology. Technological progress, including the development of space travel, has increased the standard of living of the astronauts to such an extent that they take their resources for granted.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCj9pG8lKtfltD26AeOZux0zKZ_ZGoyYaTarP7C0ic_6S5tOh-Vf3s0db2BSJsaZ2tElm4StruRpj-dGm_wVBIEQsvo-hKc1k-ZW2J3SO7gwDi6K4e1cq-KXLyO-Mu5Kzx-_YCtwfQVk/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCj9pG8lKtfltD26AeOZux0zKZ_ZGoyYaTarP7C0ic_6S5tOh-Vf3s0db2BSJsaZ2tElm4StruRpj-dGm_wVBIEQsvo-hKc1k-ZW2J3SO7gwDi6K4e1cq-KXLyO-Mu5Kzx-_YCtwfQVk/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690200129057381586" border="0" /></a>Dern's colleagues no longer care about the forest or the food they eat because they have been living in a world where their every want is met. They behave almost like spoilt children, spending their time racing around the cargo bay and joking around. Dern's position is similar to that of the 19th-century Arcadians like John Ruskin and Henry David Thoreau, writers who warned against the increasing luxury and apathy brought on by mechanical progress. Dern is the Arcadian among the lackadaisical industrialists, still able to enjoy himself but ever watchful of the consequences of progress, and mindful of the alternative which could soon cease to exist.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZnOrcQjah4vxzexgCbD7kcG8u0XPXOosr629W7Rkycnvclaj3-27ECnLZ1W4xuXvR6UMsS_dgteiuaGQeaVWFOaZ1a5gJMOUlw-1rFX98z1vTbD9VYCvoZCyf6WMtJCn3sMnjvJvbIvE/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZnOrcQjah4vxzexgCbD7kcG8u0XPXOosr629W7Rkycnvclaj3-27ECnLZ1W4xuXvR6UMsS_dgteiuaGQeaVWFOaZ1a5gJMOUlw-1rFX98z1vTbD9VYCvoZCyf6WMtJCn3sMnjvJvbIvE/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690200279702030914" border="0" /></a>When <span style="font-style: italic;">WALL-E</span> was released three years ago, numerous critics compared the opening section to <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span>. There is an obvious parallel in the role of robots tending to the Earth (or what is left of it), and in the loneliness of this occupation both practically and philosophically. Like <span style="font-style: italic;">WALL-E</span>, Dern and his droids are going against the grain to do what they believe is right, and both have developed eccentricities through isolation which has caused them to deviate from their original 'programming'. With <span style="font-style: italic;">WALL-E</span>, it is his bizarre passion for <span style="font-style: italic;">Hello Dolly!</span>; with Dern, it is his desire to teach droids how to play poker.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMwEvRvF9t-aMd9XdavCRWyh23_cW9meo5VLsKUNScXMUd-dvOECzI8SfCul1wLrEuEIsMa73HImFtpbBfc79WZVrREXbkuSXsrVpzEMqBCD1U69aSR1juc_iPfAj5gl0oMDXB1eWYzQ/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 302px; height: 167px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMwEvRvF9t-aMd9XdavCRWyh23_cW9meo5VLsKUNScXMUd-dvOECzI8SfCul1wLrEuEIsMa73HImFtpbBfc79WZVrREXbkuSXsrVpzEMqBCD1U69aSR1juc_iPfAj5gl0oMDXB1eWYzQ/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690200505838790946" border="0" /></a>Although <span style="font-style: italic;">WALL-E</span> could not have existed without <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span>, it remains the superior of the two films. Although one of the longer PIXAR efforts, it feels tightly structured and well-paced, while there are long sections of <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span> which feel superfluous or needlessly slow. This may be down to the involvement of Michael Cimino at a script level; his first writing credit in Hollywood contains the same flaws in pace and emphasis which would scupper him as a director. The poker scene, for instance, feels like it shouldn't be there, or at least like it should be a lot shorter.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUhTjaEc71NlgVmZeT1u_zNU3gMI-DjGYBTC37WHN0iD_pDuqGjGOrXg5FBfTVdMIeUKRWmE6tFRWotfLc_iocTLJdRypiFEcL2rTe8SFHxrYLh2OenOyX4h22hV3jIMvr6rvjyoHhKg/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUhTjaEc71NlgVmZeT1u_zNU3gMI-DjGYBTC37WHN0iD_pDuqGjGOrXg5FBfTVdMIeUKRWmE6tFRWotfLc_iocTLJdRypiFEcL2rTe8SFHxrYLh2OenOyX4h22hV3jIMvr6rvjyoHhKg/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690199937344305938" border="0" /></a>Parts of <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span> have also dated quite badly. Peter Schickele's soundtrack has stood the test of time rather well, but Joan Baez' warblings are a distinctly Marmite experience. Some of the dialogue is preachy, with Dern going over many of the same arguments to the point of exhaustion. But to be fair, it is very difficult to sustain a story with a limited number of locations and characters without the luxury of extended dream sequences (<span style="font-style: italic;">Solaris</span>) or multiple versions of the characters (<span style="font-style: italic;">Moon</span>). Trumball may be no Kubrick, but all in all he has done a reasonable job.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj96W4o_6cagv-LFvL5lQKlFQ7mQa_iv9IdQlGOxPi3aC_x_kgaLjsKOAGg1qu5pZge1I9Z5AYnmqjhrxsQgSqh7d9gfKUPzPCL4b4fyFrwJE8QxMUFsAnw3g9jDqtyz6aTwS_vvkc3IM/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 305px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj96W4o_6cagv-LFvL5lQKlFQ7mQa_iv9IdQlGOxPi3aC_x_kgaLjsKOAGg1qu5pZge1I9Z5AYnmqjhrxsQgSqh7d9gfKUPzPCL4b4fyFrwJE8QxMUFsAnw3g9jDqtyz6aTwS_vvkc3IM/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690198893486973826" border="0" /></a>One aspect which hasn't dated, however, is the special effects. When Trumball was interviewed recently for the Blu-Ray release, he commented that organic, miniature or optical effects date better than CG visuals because they are more "photo-realistically impressive", i.e. have weight and tactility. The external shots of the <span style="font-style: italic;">Valley Forge</span> are shot from the correct perspective so that we aren't conscious of them being model shots, and the explosions look and feel both realistic and custom-built.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGU1L9J3NTPi_ZpbBN-ZBkrewuN1Un8NquJOGkDsN5ECWgkspU8dvocoVac426nJTiYhEEdcNN23gHSwRM6ln4T1hE9HelN8_Tv8UQgVgtdXu_6Z3UBmUUYXByENAKMWn5w5HlD6IuMo/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 171px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGU1L9J3NTPi_ZpbBN-ZBkrewuN1Un8NquJOGkDsN5ECWgkspU8dvocoVac426nJTiYhEEdcNN23gHSwRM6ln4T1hE9HelN8_Tv8UQgVgtdXu_6Z3UBmUUYXByENAKMWn5w5HlD6IuMo/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690200739643915250" border="0" /></a>The most illuminating special effect, however, is the three drones which Dern uses to tend to the forests after commandeering the <span style="font-style: italic;">Valley Forge</span>. The drones, inspired by characters in Tod Browning's <span style="font-style: italic;">Freaks</span>, were created by double amputees walking on their hands. This and the facial structures of the drones create a human-like movement which we can recognise and use as a starting point for empathy.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0GlHtHqlZO51OOuK5BsNBu88F121aDCY9F1DMsVt0Sgh48MmMjgy0bVZDhaVUyWaKaejN6CD8mjzCTkejAB4hbe3rT24wL9N2Y0ppAzN2guNhYo-sEwn1hlUkGhUKIhZgD1Mrk3BZEc/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0GlHtHqlZO51OOuK5BsNBu88F121aDCY9F1DMsVt0Sgh48MmMjgy0bVZDhaVUyWaKaejN6CD8mjzCTkejAB4hbe3rT24wL9N2Y0ppAzN2guNhYo-sEwn1hlUkGhUKIhZgD1Mrk3BZEc/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690198686438450210" border="0" /></a>What makes <span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span> remarkable, and ultimately successful, is the strength of its emotional pull. The tactility of the special effects, the honesty of the script and the tender nature of the final act has the same effect that the ending of <span style="font-style: italic;">E. T.</span> does; you feel as though you have earned the right to blub your eyes out because of how well the characters have been formed and how much you have enjoyed their company. Much like <span style="font-style: italic;">The Man Who Fell To Earth</span>, the emotional weight of the characters allows us to overlook or forgive any narrative shortcomings and enjoy having our hearts broken.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4m5ycyXoUWdK7qw-7ZyOW64FW6T4q9dYOerXb-k_HCFYPsqENcTEpbmK4qOoS967eX9k4zI6sfEGEz6_gz6kJ48ua2EgSGS4OMRSYVY5Yrsq4iyLPIe5ScvgSQq_IpDxXDCzipo5J0H0/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 302px; height: 167px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4m5ycyXoUWdK7qw-7ZyOW64FW6T4q9dYOerXb-k_HCFYPsqENcTEpbmK4qOoS967eX9k4zI6sfEGEz6_gz6kJ48ua2EgSGS4OMRSYVY5Yrsq4iyLPIe5ScvgSQq_IpDxXDCzipo5J0H0/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690200873775008914" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Silent Running</span> remains an underrated and underappreciated science fiction film. It's not without its flaws, whether narrative or otherwise, and it has to take a back seat to <span style="font-style: italic;">2001</span> both in ambition and in execution. But what it lacks in awe and spectacle it makes up for in heartache, coupled with a good-natured and welcome intelligence. <span style="font-style: italic;">WALL-E </span> may have since surpassed it, but it remains compelling viewing.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=4stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 90px; height: 18px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/4stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: An underrated sci-fi heartbreaker<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-52496752827996412152011-12-19T00:25:00.012+00:002011-12-19T12:23:13.848+00:00FILM REVIEW: Wild at Heart (1990)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Wild at Heart (USA, 1990)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by David Lynch</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Nicolas Cage, Laura Dern, Diane Ladd, Willem Dafoe</span><br /><br />You know you've arrived as a filmmaker when a bespoke adjective is created to describe your work - Gilliam-esque, Kubrickian, Lynchian and so on. But with this honour comes the danger of said filmmaker producing films which consist of familiar images or elements, without the narrative or thematic cohesion which earned them the label in the first place.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWMeKms0I_RLMjOXDjz6HQ43Gf9x0na1vn-wzFHbNIMsPUpX8CoeN74uzHnMlHI3zrTQV7UMfYaaTZQXvd6-YWZqY288sB2yoTr_zOnwbuCliJ0Ze5mDEGIwNeDTEgoyok1uPFOBkFZfU/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWMeKms0I_RLMjOXDjz6HQ43Gf9x0na1vn-wzFHbNIMsPUpX8CoeN74uzHnMlHI3zrTQV7UMfYaaTZQXvd6-YWZqY288sB2yoTr_zOnwbuCliJ0Ze5mDEGIwNeDTEgoyok1uPFOBkFZfU/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687811750296707218" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Wild of Heart</span> is only partially guilty of this, not being one of David Lynch's strongest or most cohesive efforts. Although its thematic unity is never in doubt, and its central narrative is easy enough to follow, it ultimately amounts to a series of strange and memorable moments which punctuate his loose reworking of a road movie. While episodic and baggy, it contains moments of Lynch at his absolute best, and even at its worst is nothing short of unforgettable.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpfzvZ5IQKRXoExetEUkuUXAsUlZmfUABWPYQdhrTqTrfjmF3JqtQrvz2IQMx8aKrfnP5NQv5k98wwyAL5CKEp8J1CH_ZXxTxcrXbCUTk1o2fDsRzJXVpCg9ETdJQDbz8GawihhdW_9E/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpfzvZ5IQKRXoExetEUkuUXAsUlZmfUABWPYQdhrTqTrfjmF3JqtQrvz2IQMx8aKrfnP5NQv5k98wwyAL5CKEp8J1CH_ZXxTxcrXbCUTk1o2fDsRzJXVpCg9ETdJQDbz8GawihhdW_9E/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687811380028942514" border="0" /></a>Just as Lynch saw <span style="font-style: italic;">Eraserhead</span> as his version of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Philadelphia Story</span>, so <span style="font-style: italic;">Wild at Heart</span> could be described as his take on <span style="font-style: italic;">The Wizard of Oz</span>. Lynch has acknowledged its influence throughout his career, and his most recent works, <span style="font-style: italic;">Mulholland Drive</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Inland Empire</span>, have incorporated visual or narrative references to it throughout. But whereas these films are Lynch works with little nods to <span style="font-style: italic;">Oz</span> thrown in, this is a full-on marriage of the two, as Lynch takes all the touchstones of L. Frank Baum's story, adds plenty of violence, cranks up the creepiness (if that were possible), and makes the central relationship more emotionally raw and raunchy.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3FWwbQfmrXS91yd52vHrxH2PyF5trPw1pGq5VX7YtHrTj7bSyuZVWWWoVbSXJyO3j2_1guW9HmyVgSk5Qhfy_eEa0jsoaAdr7xYfqfl9KYBenkxsWdtYO98zfIiwnV6TLsQLQ_D7tf6A/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3FWwbQfmrXS91yd52vHrxH2PyF5trPw1pGq5VX7YtHrTj7bSyuZVWWWoVbSXJyO3j2_1guW9HmyVgSk5Qhfy_eEa0jsoaAdr7xYfqfl9KYBenkxsWdtYO98zfIiwnV6TLsQLQ_D7tf6A/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687811972550960754" border="0" /></a>The parallels between the two works are candid from the outset. Lula is Dorothy, thrust into a strange world that is "wild at heart and weird on top", and sustained only by Sailor's companionship and the promise of returning to something she can recognise. Sailor in this interpretation is an amalgam of Dorothy's companions: he may not be much of a coward, but he certainly lacks brains, and his capacity for love doesn't extend much beyond devotion. Alternatively, these two represent different aspects of Dorothy, contrasting Sailor's self-confidence with Lula's sensitivity.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nq37xtJXYEplogIS7dBodG5iyxORfE-dxfCk0oDcIQnImIQ4JCtoB0Nv3QMWGXYu0l9KBajPKLJr5SPYC3G4aqXCVpQtFAXLm8TDginSkkp7Dme-UhKSJ4-oJS4CYQGaEakjpvwL_fE/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nq37xtJXYEplogIS7dBodG5iyxORfE-dxfCk0oDcIQnImIQ4JCtoB0Nv3QMWGXYu0l9KBajPKLJr5SPYC3G4aqXCVpQtFAXLm8TDginSkkp7Dme-UhKSJ4-oJS4CYQGaEakjpvwL_fE/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687812176134197330" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-style: italic;">Oz </span>references extend far beyond the permutations of the central characters. Diane Ladd makes a convincing Wicked Witch of the West, following Lula's/ Dorothy's every move, cursing the fact that the couple are still together and getting further towards their goal in spite of all her schemes. The long road to California doubles for the yellow brick road, and the car crash featuring <span style="font-style: italic;">Twin Peaks</span> star Sherilyn Fenn could be a nod to the poppy fields, which disorientate and threaten to destroy the heroes. Fenn later turns up as a literal manifestation of the Good Witch Glinda, reflecting that the couple's perseverance and desire to help her were both the right choices to make.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT1kppEm8nAOAkugA0H19fBeV2YvSOe5ydKE7silOXEi3lelxWzOrZ70nfTAItqpUphD6AWWPerSEWIEUPRKFbPLPyG_LfxEk2iMYwr1zT_B6KcweJzN_9FxqW5MHDcXmCNRO8WSikCeY/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT1kppEm8nAOAkugA0H19fBeV2YvSOe5ydKE7silOXEi3lelxWzOrZ70nfTAItqpUphD6AWWPerSEWIEUPRKFbPLPyG_LfxEk2iMYwr1zT_B6KcweJzN_9FxqW5MHDcXmCNRO8WSikCeY/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687812400017995618" border="0" /></a>Lynch described the central theme of <span style="font-style: italic;">Wild at Heart </span>as "finding love in Hell". He creates a dark and violent world all around the characters - a world populated by car crashes, robberies, betrayal, infidelity, sex, violence and various undignified ways of dying. With all the supporting characters having at least one foot rooted in the grotesque, Sailor and Lula become our natural focus, as people with at least part of their sanity intact who desire more than anything else to escape, by whatever means.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMY048upH0OuPk-ijyY7-OJ5Oyd681nQOJ2KRJQN5_UEfUI1bjOywrHFC1eDBt_vxV0WmGjH3FRdbF5ROuGrCKFdXnQJJgiNeh1XT8349zoFE7Pd95Cu384JeNmBhiH7QWLwRhXlpa7xI/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMY048upH0OuPk-ijyY7-OJ5Oyd681nQOJ2KRJQN5_UEfUI1bjOywrHFC1eDBt_vxV0WmGjH3FRdbF5ROuGrCKFdXnQJJgiNeh1XT8349zoFE7Pd95Cu384JeNmBhiH7QWLwRhXlpa7xI/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687812981330486514" border="0" /></a>This atmosphere of aggression and theme of feeling trapped is reinforced by Lynch's choice of music. Working with Angelo Badalamenti, who has scored all his work since <span style="font-style: italic;">Blue Velvet</span>, Lynch blends the laid-back 1950s sound of Chris Isaac's brilliant 'Wicked Game' to some very aggressive speed metal, the latter of which foreshadows his work with Marilyn Manson on <span style="font-style: italic;">Lost Highway</span>. It's an oddly effective blend, depicting the violence and possible redemption which confront the characters.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdh2VWRFQUdFLMGBL4ZwRVPB8v1caQA8Veb5LkqYhodqKghr0d3dMJUBy_EnKsRuGkueiSipL2gSTLD5bJLL6b5NAUsavVeGSWDP1YtCBMRYId-dSxxwmxZwz_zZFYhV9MtPYHW0WI6S4/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdh2VWRFQUdFLMGBL4ZwRVPB8v1caQA8Veb5LkqYhodqKghr0d3dMJUBy_EnKsRuGkueiSipL2gSTLD5bJLL6b5NAUsavVeGSWDP1YtCBMRYId-dSxxwmxZwz_zZFYhV9MtPYHW0WI6S4/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687812738132175634" border="0" /></a>Music plays a key role in demonstrating the mental conflict of the central characters. In one great scene, Lula tunes through all the radio stations in the car, hearing nothing but bad news. She slams on the brakes, gets out of the car, and starts screaming that she'll go mad unless she hears music. Sailor finds some hard rock, starts screaming too, and they share an impromptu mosh in the middle of the desert. There are big nods to the Elvis back catalogue, with Sailor serenading Lula with 'Love Me' in the club, and finally cementing his love with 'Love Me Tender' during the closing credits.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjVS5kK1fTXkbDWZjGdYwXymLDyfQoEWm6D5f8Lt_zI1GnhnR41OsWSm2tjZs_d1MxPmU8OCklRb3acGEHA7vzwLJGTBKna1gZuQYUCv5ia5pquT1teFZLW_lp9YkV7PGkUY4auqtuIQk/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjVS5kK1fTXkbDWZjGdYwXymLDyfQoEWm6D5f8Lt_zI1GnhnR41OsWSm2tjZs_d1MxPmU8OCklRb3acGEHA7vzwLJGTBKna1gZuQYUCv5ia5pquT1teFZLW_lp9YkV7PGkUY4auqtuIQk/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687813279351976994" border="0" /></a>Although these scenes in and of themselves are well-assembled and great fun, they do hint at the big central problem with <span style="font-style: italic;">Wild at Heart</span>. There are so many of these strange little bits floating around the central story that they never quite integrate into a seamless, disorientating whole. Lynch's symbolic imagery and manipulation of colour don't gel quite so naturally with the story and characters as such techniques did in <span style="font-style: italic;">Blue Velvet</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Mulholland Drive</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhirFLFSRNXdxzE9Xa8bm_Re6wriuYhj-tMlSU6XRt6nvaL4d1JcuV0llsh9SxQIF-D4nokAkudQ5vh23kn3HoQLBoTeGex85LAjbbLESQbEtrcWh-S_Vw7H5VIOm9sQ3JJ6ikycmReo/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhirFLFSRNXdxzE9Xa8bm_Re6wriuYhj-tMlSU6XRt6nvaL4d1JcuV0llsh9SxQIF-D4nokAkudQ5vh23kn3HoQLBoTeGex85LAjbbLESQbEtrcWh-S_Vw7H5VIOm9sQ3JJ6ikycmReo/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687813409992132386" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-style: italic;">Blue Velvet</span> comparison is the more illuminating, particularly with regard to the amount of time the ideas of the film had to gestate. Lynch had the story and themes for <span style="font-style: italic;">Blue Velvet</span> all worked out in his head before <span style="font-style: italic;">Dune</span>, so that even when he was forced to shoot quickly due to lack of money, he knew how to shoot the robins speech, or the zoom down to the cockroaches, in a way which was seamlessly integral to the story and its themes.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSENXg1wqWvzjknALdkdjb2Ke-yIocFsjcjQgVLbq9DNGieZ0b9pSH1_mkYdU13YHnALz-HOuK6WxIyojJPFaS7_sEl6C8Ndpwcd87z1uZN6hsuKAflgh-KLso5fAsvm4rIJFkoLadFYo/s1600/17.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSENXg1wqWvzjknALdkdjb2Ke-yIocFsjcjQgVLbq9DNGieZ0b9pSH1_mkYdU13YHnALz-HOuK6WxIyojJPFaS7_sEl6C8Ndpwcd87z1uZN6hsuKAflgh-KLso5fAsvm4rIJFkoLadFYo/s320/17.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687813600048682642" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Wild at Heart</span>, on the other hand, was rushed into production following the collapse of Dino DeLaurentiis' production company, which delayed progress on both <span style="font-style: italic;">Twin Peaks </span>and Lynch's pet project, <span style="font-style: italic;">Ronnie Rocket</span>. He was given Barry Gifford's novel by friend Monty Montgomery with a view to producing it, and only had two months between buying the rights and beginning to shoot. It is no surprise therefore that the script of <span style="font-style: italic;">Wild at Heart</span> doesn't entirely click; it is, in Lynch's words, "a compilation of ideas."<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DiSDW1FF_OOrg1aYe88yQdpGJ5-eJ0UijqXUvsIn6UcFi6IixSNlbdcmz2lM4v7c7EFaDUY9rPjbp4m6sfm2-optrnG3off44cOGT4I1QmJ2fmr5RdwYjx58eJVFBBKI_42YzOnTzdI/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DiSDW1FF_OOrg1aYe88yQdpGJ5-eJ0UijqXUvsIn6UcFi6IixSNlbdcmz2lM4v7c7EFaDUY9rPjbp4m6sfm2-optrnG3off44cOGT4I1QmJ2fmr5RdwYjx58eJVFBBKI_42YzOnTzdI/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687813811898035682" border="0" /></a>This disjoined feel has the side effect of taking us out of the story during many of the weirder moments. During Jack Nance's cameo, doubling for Toto in yet another <span style="font-style: italic;">Oz</span> reference, you find yourself staring as much in puzzlement as in mesmerism. Some of Badalamenti's musical cues feel oddly overcooked, such as the huge dramatic chord when Sailor pulls up at Perdita's house. The final scene, where Sailor and Lula reaffirm their love, lacks the beauty and irony of <span style="font-style: italic;">Blue Velvet</span>'s ending, which manages to be both uplifting and watchful.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPZeS9-jysuLGMThtunS9o3vsVvLwVl9lzo9RXuWdJ7mrTq8e2l21gOTkicMADWokHGoFQgnB4Gxvjh1sUKN2PLNfHbzgXn_6buMyfcAIPS9LDpe37qMvurLNaezCPhNBNEeCnP9uTzU/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 271px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPZeS9-jysuLGMThtunS9o3vsVvLwVl9lzo9RXuWdJ7mrTq8e2l21gOTkicMADWokHGoFQgnB4Gxvjh1sUKN2PLNfHbzgXn_6buMyfcAIPS9LDpe37qMvurLNaezCPhNBNEeCnP9uTzU/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687812540735070034" border="0" /></a>Despite some self-imposed cuts on Lynch's part, there are many scenes in <span style="font-style: italic;">Wild at Heart</span> which remain problematic. The violence is par for the course for an 18 certificate, even the sight of Willem Dafoe's character losing his head with a double-barrelled shotgun. But the sexual advances of Dafoe's character are deeply disturbing for all the wrong reasons, and the recurring image of Lula's rape doesn't add to the central theme beyond turning our stomachs (as rape should).<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFX1VIfRHsQWUFIez3Q-4ouJ3O09xkLSwFrZkNFn2nsm733aYz7lyuxLjvZBS2-B6thCa_a-61XSexAZdC5joWcfPHcKxA4IyqrYq4ImvC-XibFiVcGTyQazYj7MKfamWQs4CbMbgar0E/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFX1VIfRHsQWUFIez3Q-4ouJ3O09xkLSwFrZkNFn2nsm733aYz7lyuxLjvZBS2-B6thCa_a-61XSexAZdC5joWcfPHcKxA4IyqrYq4ImvC-XibFiVcGTyQazYj7MKfamWQs4CbMbgar0E/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687813097890385938" border="0" /></a>Ultimately, however, the performances in <span style="font-style: italic;">Wild at Heart </span>are enough to see things through. Nicolas Cage is on startling form, showing that he thrives when given a director who understands melodrama and exaggerated characters. He may be massively over-the-top, but it makes sense, and his Elvis impersonation is great. Laura Dern's unusual beauty fits the Southern belle look of her character, and we believe in her emotional turmoil throughout. And amongst the hysterical supporting case, including Dern's real-life mother Diane Ladd, the stand-out is Harry Dean Stanton, who stands calm in the eye of the storm, looking as bemused as the rest of us.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvfzc_Nt4OCrkO4NPDHuuEhwsdeCqS1b4lEtk_87SSMhXG9YpEc8xudxl5l-HWXUqObHJQ8YqKMulPVPOny0RIGl_hFY0fYACVZdYv1cdf3U8SbFrhyphenhyphenYtAjIJtQxaHpUxsFnYAX-KePw/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvfzc_Nt4OCrkO4NPDHuuEhwsdeCqS1b4lEtk_87SSMhXG9YpEc8xudxl5l-HWXUqObHJQ8YqKMulPVPOny0RIGl_hFY0fYACVZdYv1cdf3U8SbFrhyphenhyphenYtAjIJtQxaHpUxsFnYAX-KePw/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687811532423346194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Wild at Heart </span>is not Lynch's finest work by any stretch of the imagination. It has structural deficiencies which were not sorted out in the editing room, and the lurches in tone may prove too much for the casual viewer. But in the moments when it does work - and there are plenty - it is an often joyous reminder of Lynch's power as a filmmaker, telling stories in ways which are frighteningly unique. While no masterpiece, nor an ideal starting point, it is often majestic and always memorable.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=35stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 75px; height: 15px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/35stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Wonderful moments with weirdness to spare<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-23041560820461933142011-12-12T01:22:00.008+00:002011-12-12T21:36:53.186+00:00FILM REVIEW: Sir Henry at Rawlinson End (1980)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Sir Henry at Rawlinson End (UK, 1980)</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directed by Steve Roberts</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Trevor Howard, Patrick McGee, Sheila Reid, Denise Coffey</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br />In my review of <span style="font-style: italic;">Westworld</span>, I argued that novelists who become filmmakers often lack the visual creativity to balance out the verbal richness of a given work. While certainly true of Michael Crichton's debut, this can also be applied to literary adaptations in general; the often-prolific use of voiceover and frequency of long speeches belie an unhelpfully literal approach to adaptation.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpmfW85hyBLbF2eSn_r9Aka-Md1jn6N-ICsXDw68NsNjDZqnY9gmH8cy3K3kUpFQR3DjrUCqzLOEhNiPVqGgdz2sBjt1WLeUhMW9krZBlEmpkTdGklc58ONiQwrDUOSMy8SaF6zDF4zkU/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpmfW85hyBLbF2eSn_r9Aka-Md1jn6N-ICsXDw68NsNjDZqnY9gmH8cy3K3kUpFQR3DjrUCqzLOEhNiPVqGgdz2sBjt1WLeUhMW9krZBlEmpkTdGklc58ONiQwrDUOSMy8SaF6zDF4zkU/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685358524959432354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Sir Henry at Rawlinson End</span> proves the same can be true for spoken word albums. Vivian Stanshall's 1978 LP, culled from his stints on Radio 1 covering for John Peel, remains an irresistible slice of whimsical absurdity with wordplay which is utterly to die for. But in the hands of first-time director Steve Roberts, most of the charm and quality of Stanshall's work is eroded or withered away, resulting in a crushing disappointment.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioZfjy7mniQWKsVlxBlGAkcRfcNZN4j-b2sWoS0RgYUWi7yCf652VYEHnDswpDk5EZhzMTA_rkkwELL_BcjYN5ZaMtFtMb2dMfmaX5ZMjO443B32JaXsALVIDjuols7H0OBbMpWy2l4Sg/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioZfjy7mniQWKsVlxBlGAkcRfcNZN4j-b2sWoS0RgYUWi7yCf652VYEHnDswpDk5EZhzMTA_rkkwELL_BcjYN5ZaMtFtMb2dMfmaX5ZMjO443B32JaXsALVIDjuols7H0OBbMpWy2l4Sg/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685356577019312194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Sir Henry at Rawlinson End</span> has been called everything from "the cinematic equivalent of cheese before bedtime" (The Big Issue) to "the missing link between<span style="font-style: italic;"> Monty Python</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Withnail & I</span>" (Time Out). Set in and around the fictional English country manor of Rawlinson End, it follows a day in the life of Sir Henry Rawlinson (Trevor Howard), Great Aunt Florie (Sheila Reid) and various other eccentrics who inhabit or visit the estate. The film version extends the plot of the album, adding both the activities of a morose priest Slodden (Patrick Magee) and Sir Henry's attempts to exorcise the ghost of his brother, accidentally killed during a drunken fishing trip.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIAkHduOSfYOT0pDcKeYu1T4FVu4enRa-0e0I8YzxvuMQvD90UlvcLPT8A6uq99VECo6o_G6o_HDgUidqHlAVZeRmx9GSTE4CwsMANuXbQAc8-yes_Q3fc5xNHdsLdtc_-91cAKY6_9M/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIAkHduOSfYOT0pDcKeYu1T4FVu4enRa-0e0I8YzxvuMQvD90UlvcLPT8A6uq99VECo6o_G6o_HDgUidqHlAVZeRmx9GSTE4CwsMANuXbQAc8-yes_Q3fc5xNHdsLdtc_-91cAKY6_9M/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685358687313501138" border="0" /></a>The best way to understand the film is found in the words of Peter Sellers. When interviewed in 1972 just before a one-off <span style="font-style: italic;">Goon Show</span> to mark 50 years of the BBC, he made the comparison between The Goons and Monty Python in terms of visual imagination on the part of the audience. Watching <span style="font-style: italic;">Monty Python's Flying Circus</span>, you had a starting point for what the various characters could look like: in Sellers' words, "John Cleese always looks like John Cleese". Listening to the Goons, on the other hand, you had to create pictures of what the various characters looked like without much visual assistance, even from Spike Milligan's own drawings.<br /><br />The great joy of <span style="font-style: italic;">Sir Henry</span> as a record was Stanshall's skill with voices, accents and verbal acrobatics. Every sinew of the storyline was crammed full with wit and wordplay, with Stanshall's metaphors and imagery being up there with the best bits of <span style="font-style: italic;">Under Milk Wood</span>. Dylan Thomas would have smiled favourably on corkers such as this: "A pale sun poked impudent marmalade fingers through the grizzled lattice glass, and sent the shadows scurrying, like convent girls menaced by a tramp."<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-8GdWinIlBiIgq4eKio3oV9dcEr4WfvYjsr8YAW-Oc-tQ6BxMi2hgGYIhq109uR3MmwTh3HViQR_F9e2ZQyGFJvzwOWKlYmFuDc5gXd2ET6yaIWs-ziSrsqtEhts9vllIkuP6yL9Wqbk/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-8GdWinIlBiIgq4eKio3oV9dcEr4WfvYjsr8YAW-Oc-tQ6BxMi2hgGYIhq109uR3MmwTh3HViQR_F9e2ZQyGFJvzwOWKlYmFuDc5gXd2ET6yaIWs-ziSrsqtEhts9vllIkuP6yL9Wqbk/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685357888058502674" border="0" /></a>Like <span style="font-style: italic;">Under Milk Wood</span>, the story of <span style="font-style: italic;">Sir Henry at Rawlinson En</span>d is secondary to the characters inhabiting it, whose every tic and foible is captured in superb detail by the rich language. With Thomas, it is the grotesquery of Mr. and Mrs. Pew, the melancholy of Polly Garter or the grief of the blind sea captain. With Stanshall, it is the absurdity and sheer lunacy of English aristocrats, from Sir Henry's simpleton son Hubert, "in his mid-40s, and still unusual", to walking encyclopaedia Reg Smeeton, who obsesses over the fact that there is no proper name for the back of the knees.<br /><br />As delightfully hilarious as all of this sounds, it was always going to be difficult to capture the innate anarchy of Stanshall's unique mind. The very effect of adding a visual dimension takes away from the imagination of the record, offering a standardised version of events which, much like the <span style="font-style: italic;">Tele-Goons</span>, will inevitably fall short of one's expectations. One could blame this on the director's inexperience or lack of talent: Roberts would later carve a niche for himself penning TV series based on successful Disney films. But Stanshall's close involvement, both at a script level and in a supporting role, leads one to conclude that it was simply a bad idea for anyone to attempt it.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-Uez3bPNNdiMxRY7wkO0JHetBwqapmNvGZiuZlcb0Gkc4fJex9G-XCH1e5ApWEPyCb-jDZZVWakVP_DsFaACStb6DTm-0SR8eafSxNEr6gze5aDvlTBKXNFZGjnhM9bb3suBMB_8Ows/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-Uez3bPNNdiMxRY7wkO0JHetBwqapmNvGZiuZlcb0Gkc4fJex9G-XCH1e5ApWEPyCb-jDZZVWakVP_DsFaACStb6DTm-0SR8eafSxNEr6gze5aDvlTBKXNFZGjnhM9bb3suBMB_8Ows/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685357678034290930" border="0" /></a>In adapting the album for the big screen, there has been a certain amount of plot-shuffling - understandable enough, and just about excusable considering the consistent quality of the material. But some of the best bits of the album are inexplicably missing. At only 73 minutes long, it is unlikely that they were cut for time, and more unlikely still that they were lost for lack of making sense. Most tragic is the omission of Sir Henry's monologue about Professor Molebottom, who in his mind "put the bounce in the bouncing bomb".<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholXEL81dX6k0Sk3jtCRZPzk5Y-lnsmZC0T1Sfuzb2drMedR0nLsb0ymt79ayuId4yGxxXXtwk2RDocZX5QNO6aw1MBpw37Ec_2k3Z0K4kXpcS3gR7JOhPjfzfqKGeDCZynSMUQgKOAyk/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholXEL81dX6k0Sk3jtCRZPzk5Y-lnsmZC0T1Sfuzb2drMedR0nLsb0ymt79ayuId4yGxxXXtwk2RDocZX5QNO6aw1MBpw37Ec_2k3Z0K4kXpcS3gR7JOhPjfzfqKGeDCZynSMUQgKOAyk/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685358009341615938" border="0" /></a>The new additions to the story are poorly integrated, giving the distinct impression that the film would have been fine without them. Patrick Magee is a burning screen presence, as evidenced by his work with Stanley Kubrick in <span style="font-style: italic;">A Clockwork Orange</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Barry Lyndon</span>. But for all his charisma his character seems curiously pointless; his priest plots and glowers on the side-lines, but nothing ever comes of him being there. Harry Fowler's winkle-pickered Cockney is an obvious bum note, a pale imitation of Walker from <span style="font-style: italic;">Dad's Army</span>. And the ghost exorcism plot is badly handled, arriving with some hokey special effects and being palmed off pretty quickly.<br /><br />There have been a number of strange British cult films which have passed muster in spite of their shambolic narratives. Think of Richard Lester's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Bed-Sitting Room</span>, co-written by Spike Milligan, or <span style="font-style: italic;">The Magic Christian</span> starring Peter Sellers. But what saw these films through their short running times and perplexing turns of plot was a constant feeling that they were about something, even if they weren't going anywhere.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZoaP6eE2v1PTRtBlYSxsuRGJ64qSc5OFoCEqtAzIrZg0s1zcRXVe-oaSnjA1KcDD70fMeyPtUQm2VdoCBNC6448qn5WWTW8yePtYA5DPjax6bS7Uw5owRMY4Vv8RPOSYQwgMv1-65vTc/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 90px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZoaP6eE2v1PTRtBlYSxsuRGJ64qSc5OFoCEqtAzIrZg0s1zcRXVe-oaSnjA1KcDD70fMeyPtUQm2VdoCBNC6448qn5WWTW8yePtYA5DPjax6bS7Uw5owRMY4Vv8RPOSYQwgMv1-65vTc/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685358179816965378" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Sir Henry at Rawlinson End</span>, on the other hand, feels totally and indulgently aimless. It feels like the cast and crew were given a big house to play around in for a week - they shot everything they could, making it up as they went along and then tried to stitch it all together in the editing room. While the album may not have finished in an entirely satisfying way, it at least had the common decency to quiet while it was ahead. This hangs around for at least 20 minutes too long, ending with someone bungee-jumping off the battlements for no good reason.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRE6cTEhydjtlfwfRDnuvjDVQ6xQPNMydixwkw_WrzK8_KkNx9zncKCPijXkQskY9ho_AyYtnVckrCAr7y6JI4xLRqlk1i669GNAuwf6Z-OfIsykLviiudKr2fIqJvYwx8IDgGKS04Zng/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 163px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRE6cTEhydjtlfwfRDnuvjDVQ6xQPNMydixwkw_WrzK8_KkNx9zncKCPijXkQskY9ho_AyYtnVckrCAr7y6JI4xLRqlk1i669GNAuwf6Z-OfIsykLviiudKr2fIqJvYwx8IDgGKS04Zng/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685358911869961202" border="0" /></a>In amongst its disastrous execution, there are individual moments in the film which at the very least make it memorable. There is some pleasure in seeing Trevor Howard sending himself up so mercilessly; one can almost picture this is what his character in <span style="font-style: italic;">Battle of Britain</span> might have become had he been given a peerage. He gets a number of pretty juicy lines which showcase his insanity - the best being, "I never met a man I didn't mutilate" - and his prisoner-of-war camp banter is quite fun.<br /><br />Some of the visual decisions are also notable. Where <span style="font-style: italic;">The Bed-Sitting Room</span> found Lester manipulating colour like his contemporary Nicolas Roeg, <span style="font-style: italic;">Sir Henry at Rawlinson End</span> is shot entirely in sepia monochrome, reinforcing its amateurish, parochial feel. If one was feeling generous, one could call this a descendent of the early surrealist films, taking its place in the canon as a late-blooming English take on Luis Bunuel.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFbfWYZSK5CWcuYWUDaWZGs_rkNsoVMCHmEd7D9y6rQKDzP3vfWB9W7itbJjIJRhcpW_6hmXAJDGQt8fxdSHmsrFOo8nQoiiCb5jdtCyhqCOoAMCjWAQRmK-3Ve2xKfD3OtVZrOIcwYE/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFbfWYZSK5CWcuYWUDaWZGs_rkNsoVMCHmEd7D9y6rQKDzP3vfWB9W7itbJjIJRhcpW_6hmXAJDGQt8fxdSHmsrFOo8nQoiiCb5jdtCyhqCOoAMCjWAQRmK-3Ve2xKfD3OtVZrOIcwYE/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685357540524297074" border="0" /></a>In the end, however, there is precious little about <span style="font-style: italic;">Sir Henry at Rawlinson End</span> that makes one feel anything like as charitable. It is a crushing disappointment for fans of the spoken word album, whose bizarrely annoying tone leaves no way in either for fans of English whimsy or for the casual viewer. The pockets of familiar bliss or tongue-twisting delight are padded out by incoherence, indulgence and irritation. In short, it proves that audience imagination is key to making these kinds of stories work, and that as a result, some things are best left unseen.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=15stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/15stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: A crushing disappointment<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-44635184313386207102011-12-11T01:11:00.010+00:002011-12-11T01:31:13.682+00:00FILM REVIEW: Four Lions (2010)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Four Lions (UK, 2010)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Chris Morris</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Riz Ahmed, Kayvan Novak, Nigel Lindsay, Adeel Akhtar</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>Throughout his career on radio and TV, Chris Morris has proved his calibre not merely as a comedy writer and performer, but as a bristling and savagely intelligent commentator on current affairs. Like Peter Cook at his very best, he combines an urbane demeanour with a ruthlessly acerbic eye, delivering comedy of extraordinary craft and attention to detail. <span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions</span>, his first venture into feature filmmaking, continues his fantastic run of form, being one of the year's best films and one of the best black comedies of the last two decades.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieum5bTlnsFmBtYOfe6yoUblACiGZlRyYv5UUh9kQ6EYNt-qY-LOcFLQa9_5eIoGZQ3WvnQxV6t3-1RM6IdXple-dKYzJdS1fCoUprTshBjd1iSY6uQ4go4HOa5joEq75Um6vRd_6OtnM/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieum5bTlnsFmBtYOfe6yoUblACiGZlRyYv5UUh9kQ6EYNt-qY-LOcFLQa9_5eIoGZQ3WvnQxV6t3-1RM6IdXple-dKYzJdS1fCoUprTshBjd1iSY6uQ4go4HOa5joEq75Um6vRd_6OtnM/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684675342861533762" border="0" /></a>The comparison between Morris and Cook is not mere hyperbole. For all their reputations as rebels, and occasionally uncouth ones, there is a sparkling intelligence running throughout their work, so that even at their weakest they always feel on a different plane to everybody else. From the "good AIDS/ bad AIDS" conversations in <span style="font-style: italic;">Brass Eye</span> to the darker moments of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Day Today</span>, Morris has continually caught audiences between wincing and laughing hysterically, between revelling in the absurdity of life and being openly shaken by reality.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gX25MKlsfkQNnXDoabgwe64Zy7BGPRWH9lxafOH_8U0QFW9on9VdInr-x94tbQNqDd79mz-kcfHz2W-CKwW9z52qhxKqz_yEo-r2MUFKIjGK3hZerERM90sv-Tt-A-aHDhBlkUSaTec/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gX25MKlsfkQNnXDoabgwe64Zy7BGPRWH9lxafOH_8U0QFW9on9VdInr-x94tbQNqDd79mz-kcfHz2W-CKwW9z52qhxKqz_yEo-r2MUFKIjGK3hZerERM90sv-Tt-A-aHDhBlkUSaTec/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684675803573594626" border="0" /></a>But despite this rich pedigree, there is no sense in <span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions</span> of Morris re-treading old ground, in the tradition of TV performers who translate to the big screen. The only vague character similarity comes in Omar's security guard friend; his opening monologue about marathons and running distances is a distant cousin of Steve Coogan's pool attendant in<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Day Today</span>, who insists after an accident that, year after year, "no-one died". Neither is it the case that<span style="font-style: italic;"> Four Lions</span> feels televisual; Morris' comedy has never felt constricted by the limits of a given medium, and he makes the transition to cinema pretty effortlessly.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1JMzTHeLVe4KyAEuUrs_TV07_bjkK9u3NVIOigOZ61ZRALc3JCuUI5cDqO0T_HjO8eHhwg61DJ7AxuMkx_F8_tPu7jMjlhZfmHW8AYBjlwfZQzNJPiVzf1bpQdFyINNmHbxFzFlgQXkk/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1JMzTHeLVe4KyAEuUrs_TV07_bjkK9u3NVIOigOZ61ZRALc3JCuUI5cDqO0T_HjO8eHhwg61DJ7AxuMkx_F8_tPu7jMjlhZfmHW8AYBjlwfZQzNJPiVzf1bpQdFyINNmHbxFzFlgQXkk/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684675695044331762" border="0" /></a>Being a British comedy, there are moments in <span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions </span>which feature or heavily rely on big, broad sight gags. These are the kinds of laughs which populate the trailers, since they are perceived by marketers as bringing in a mainstream audience who do not follow either politics or Morris' career so closely. That's not to say that Morris put them in specifically to sell the film; while they don't reach the heights of the satirical and verbal comedy, they are executed in the best possible way. There is quite a bit of pleasure to be had from watching someone firing a grenade launcher the wrong way, or blowing up crows, or running awkwardly with hydrogen peroxide stashed under their arms.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0zDoXVIcMk-jLJ_7SFfTALV893kr4idrU1XuakrqNJ5AjP7ZDOKxfanm1lApkzuYl_WHHJVw-a_tei-t3Ic9X3VEbFK4k54dsaj-WbayGwkL7jl2RKzQntOiKyvuDS3-ZPjlYFAYda8Y/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0zDoXVIcMk-jLJ_7SFfTALV893kr4idrU1XuakrqNJ5AjP7ZDOKxfanm1lApkzuYl_WHHJVw-a_tei-t3Ic9X3VEbFK4k54dsaj-WbayGwkL7jl2RKzQntOiKyvuDS3-ZPjlYFAYda8Y/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684676315943190002" border="0" /></a>Had the use of such gags been more prolific, you could easily accuse<span style="font-style: italic;"> Four Lions</span> of exploiting its subject matter, barely scratching the surface in search of a cheap, mean-spirited laugh. But as the film moves on, all suggestions or hints of <span style="font-style: italic;">Carry on Bombing</span> go out the window, as we grow in our relationship with the characters and view their actions in a more serious or pathos-ridden light.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO9ZA_Tp_hDuCpr5TfWze9nGuSsv7hM-FzcZCxL3hna8q9XBF7vD4t6s8fAFWDanWQreNrFsfu3I0Zaddz_uD-PZa_CICS7hUd8wjeYCU1yrrKI_hrq3O1fb92heOGfn8inWGglSaO1lg/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO9ZA_Tp_hDuCpr5TfWze9nGuSsv7hM-FzcZCxL3hna8q9XBF7vD4t6s8fAFWDanWQreNrFsfu3I0Zaddz_uD-PZa_CICS7hUd8wjeYCU1yrrKI_hrq3O1fb92heOGfn8inWGglSaO1lg/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684676671740428146" border="0" /></a>A key indicator of this is the sight of one of the bombers running towards the house with the explosives - he successfully mounts a wall, only to trip over a sheep and explodes before our very eyes. Whereas in previous scenes this would have induced a belly laugh, instead we sit there in shock, not quite believing what we have just seen. Morris has the confidence to keep the boundary between comedy and tragedy completely blurred; he doesn't feel the need to constantly get a laugh if a laugh is not what is needed at a given moment.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb6TFcL3usOjnujshyphenhyphenqeuO07bWGUJcoXmJrnKjg6D7WdM0Pb5yX1f6PYpcT2KcsEw0FSjrooMFMkFThUP6J-j_tVgIp4CE5DUcsQuFSdMIsgZnp8jHSSrN9UspYv_O31B4LoFTRvFdRu4/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb6TFcL3usOjnujshyphenhyphenqeuO07bWGUJcoXmJrnKjg6D7WdM0Pb5yX1f6PYpcT2KcsEw0FSjrooMFMkFThUP6J-j_tVgIp4CE5DUcsQuFSdMIsgZnp8jHSSrN9UspYv_O31B4LoFTRvFdRu4/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684675574335390210" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions</span> is an unusual comedy insofar as laughter or hilarity is not always the natural reaction which it produces. It sits in the company of<span style="font-style: italic;"> Kind Hearts and Coronets</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Dr. Strangelove</span>, in which the overwhelming desire to laugh at the absurd or outrageous situations is balanced by an extraordinary sense of sadness or fear towards the characters. The final act of<span style="font-style: italic;"> Four Lions</span>, in which the four men decide to bomb the London Marathon, is up there with Charlie Chaplin's work in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Kid</span>, or Buster Keaton at his most melancholic. Rather than lurch between laughing and lecturing, Morris invites us to recognise the sad and pitiful absurdity of what these four men are doing. While the four are all in some way stupid, disorganised and conflicted men, the film does not belittle them; it humanises them, allowing us to weep for their fate while laughing scornfully at the ideas which drove them to said fate.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh4If_d0z9-rNKnHR9p7LTb_uMdtl6n3IpPbjwOj4eVhG-jsz51qWm8NPnstFk_2DwwZ6XVpsfOvwco3ifCa3ljb52LQ9Ulgk0WBb_dQ_n9Z2m_f4gPBRajq5AANIOeE_ZSo9nkqrzoqc/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh4If_d0z9-rNKnHR9p7LTb_uMdtl6n3IpPbjwOj4eVhG-jsz51qWm8NPnstFk_2DwwZ6XVpsfOvwco3ifCa3ljb52LQ9Ulgk0WBb_dQ_n9Z2m_f4gPBRajq5AANIOeE_ZSo9nkqrzoqc/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684675957014422946" border="0" /></a>This marriage of tragedy and comedy is indicative of Morris' intentions as a comedian. Despite his uncanny ability to make people laugh, Morris has always had some form of serious intention behind his work, whether it's questioning stereotypes or approaching a controversial subject in a manner which cuts through all the hysteria and hyperbole of modern media. With <span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions</span> he has created a comedy which generates huge laughs in places while also raising all the difficult questions about the origins of terrorism in Britain, and if and how it can be combatted.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFYlM2e91PPZDcJbwjIIaWqk5gxtyfjVzcm5vEUcGpvJOYj2T8cPgDU_74O2A0w_LuXzELwn8JW4zAuPWXjd39IUOpNppbBa2TnMeIc5B4PU9iJjF5yFd_aX1gebsmx84ZQA6sWHsznQ/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFYlM2e91PPZDcJbwjIIaWqk5gxtyfjVzcm5vEUcGpvJOYj2T8cPgDU_74O2A0w_LuXzELwn8JW4zAuPWXjd39IUOpNppbBa2TnMeIc5B4PU9iJjF5yFd_aX1gebsmx84ZQA6sWHsznQ/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684676837049456194" border="0" /></a>The film is particularly strong at showing the impact of jihadist beliefs on the families of those engaged in terrorism. It cuts through all the nonsense of terrorists being portrayed as psychopathic loners, showing Omar (Riz Ahmed) as a family man attempting to reconcile his religious beliefs with his responsibilities as a husband and father. In one poignant moment, he tells his young son a bedtime story, explaining the principles of Islamic <span style="font-style: italic;">jihad</span> in relation to <span style="font-style: italic;">The Lion King</span>. In another equally sad scene, he poses as a hospital porter to get past police and say goodbye to his wife during her shift on reception. He says that he'll "be going now" and she glances back at him, tearful yet loyal to the last.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1n5BGdtkEA8EDcBf6HEf3dhW_BFe6krFJVZla_FJN6HSaMnWOFCOv0BoIWYMK1oi3mS5tHPfugqoIU4eOfJPJepfJ0jJV3FINlRFFuluoNFUoce7r3y3l3pauAAUu2dYnEkJOKERHsM/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 273px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1n5BGdtkEA8EDcBf6HEf3dhW_BFe6krFJVZla_FJN6HSaMnWOFCOv0BoIWYMK1oi3mS5tHPfugqoIU4eOfJPJepfJ0jJV3FINlRFFuluoNFUoce7r3y3l3pauAAUu2dYnEkJOKERHsM/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684677094071300770" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions </span>also shows the flawed, or at least unsympathetic, position of moderate Muslims, arguing that they are as potentially damaging to the public image of Islam as the suicide bombers. One of Omar's friends adheres very strictly to the teachings of the Qu'ran, to the point where he comes across as distant, arrogant and pious. While Omar does everything with his wife and doesn't force her to cover up, his friend refuses to stand in the same room as a woman; when questioning about keeping women in a cupboard during prayer meetings, he replies: "it was not a cupboard, it was a small room." At this point Omar and his wife respond by chasing him out of their house with water pistols, with Omar's wife declaring sarcastically that she is "out of control". It's a smart and funny way of showing the nuances of Islamic attitudes to women, which have all too often been reduced to simple-minded caricature.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOORsCFRhzq_Lf1xW4o-fxUTpaA7D1fLQ2oK1DYsa3K2dHw4DNwiyvqY3mJfiIgk9GQFyclmwFSninQO6sEBmkDjZ3wtC1C1yW3nZ4Gku2f1IL-CEIqTgfeKI05QJEP5cWX_iXCw9_lzg/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOORsCFRhzq_Lf1xW4o-fxUTpaA7D1fLQ2oK1DYsa3K2dHw4DNwiyvqY3mJfiIgk9GQFyclmwFSninQO6sEBmkDjZ3wtC1C1yW3nZ4Gku2f1IL-CEIqTgfeKI05QJEP5cWX_iXCw9_lzg/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684676422039768226" border="0" /></a>This scene leads onto one of the great set-piece gags in <span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions</span> (although gag is perhaps not the best way to describe it). At one point the four bombers meet at the house and discuss bombing the London Marathon. The camera keeps cutting between their conversations and the police pulling up outside a house, shot in night vision. This editing leads us to think that the bombers are going to be ambushed - only for the police to break into the 'study group' of the moderates, arresting the men and taking the women out of the 'cupboard'. Morris throws us a totally welcome curveball, and offers a memorable pay-off involving a freight container doubling for Egyptian soil and Weetabix being used as a bargaining chip.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihs3XTeTsCvLtK3UGtUojLnhL6HLgGzb8jc50zcjPnFeFRF4WzWxye2DC38D_dPZhJ2x3wcaeh9BQ4U3mxnCdK8rKV1vUQm4_-s4jLhkLBYamhvCFEmylaXWTiW_Wf7G0vz3teNOdPCig/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihs3XTeTsCvLtK3UGtUojLnhL6HLgGzb8jc50zcjPnFeFRF4WzWxye2DC38D_dPZhJ2x3wcaeh9BQ4U3mxnCdK8rKV1vUQm4_-s4jLhkLBYamhvCFEmylaXWTiW_Wf7G0vz3teNOdPCig/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684676153086277922" border="0" /></a>What makes <span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions</span> work as a study or satire of fundamentalism is that it doesn't claim to have all the answers for exactly why young people are doing this. Morris spent the best part of six years researching the film, and clearly understands that there isn't a one-size-fits-all answer to any aspect of this phenomenon. The film is concerned as much with exposing the hypocrisy of radical Islam as it is deflating the helpless, squirming responses of MPs and other authority figures. In putting every party, political or otherwise, under the spotlight, Morris is exposing and shaming the tendency to oversimplify the issues for the sake of sound-bites, or the cowardly approach taken by groups and politicians to avoid the issue altogether.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVI-dJHceHylIq8gOZrVeZcIYWi-qHz7PJcp1kk19BSUi83Pk9EdDdpc6wbYM4wPC8CyaqBoBbW4BfAfRH4QAkTczE2BUTLPig_RmKYvLD3rOGKdrqiqvt8_R0QoXpI0tz6VKf1QgFXCs/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 281px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVI-dJHceHylIq8gOZrVeZcIYWi-qHz7PJcp1kk19BSUi83Pk9EdDdpc6wbYM4wPC8CyaqBoBbW4BfAfRH4QAkTczE2BUTLPig_RmKYvLD3rOGKdrqiqvt8_R0QoXpI0tz6VKf1QgFXCs/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684675467054461922" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions </span>is a great black comedy which indicates that Chris Morris can be as good a film director as he is when working in TV or radio. It isn't quite perfect, relying a little too often on broad comedy in its first act, and there is the outside possibility that audiences will come away feeling that, in terms of pure laughs, they didn't get their money's worth. Make no mistake, <span style="font-style: italic;">Four Lions</span> is an often hilarious film, but it is more than funny - it hits the rich seam of awkward or edgy comedy which leaves one feeling shaken as well as stirred. In short, it is an all-round triumph from one of Britain's greatest comedy talents.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=45stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/45stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: One of the decade's best</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-75894157753966897482011-12-10T16:32:00.013+00:002011-12-10T17:35:09.545+00:00FILM REVIEW: Lord of the Flies (1963)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Lord of the Flies (UK, 1963)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Peter Brook</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring James Aubrey, Tom Chapin, Hugh Edwards, Roger Elwin</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br />The ideas and imagery of <span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Flies</span> have become so deeply engrained in our culture that it would be very easy to accuse any film version of skimming the surface. The concept of a dark beast lurking in the heart of well-meaning Man may be far more ancient than William Golding's novel. But there is a danger that any adaptation could embody the theme without doing justice to the story, relying on layman knowledge or consensus to carry the action.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1nDRYqOwsNO29Wuvet1lvrowndab1G6DIVd2Wear5UGEp6YrkFCOiSjdaQOtnx5OvZqCwRTZ0tUIuOWcllFf6drBi45ufmRmjd4k4QJBJlLWinttmsRO_WXoj5MIDoN0xLgCZe86TREo/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1nDRYqOwsNO29Wuvet1lvrowndab1G6DIVd2Wear5UGEp6YrkFCOiSjdaQOtnx5OvZqCwRTZ0tUIuOWcllFf6drBi45ufmRmjd4k4QJBJlLWinttmsRO_WXoj5MIDoN0xLgCZe86TREo/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684553890989328162" border="0" /></a>While this criticism can be fairly levelled against the 1990s version, there is no such cause for concern with the vision of Peter Brook. In adapting Golding's chilling and pessimistic novel, he has done justice to the source material while putting his own blend of artistic naturalism onto the story. The result is a subtle and sinister film whose sense of dread creeps up on you and eventually overpowers without warning. While aspects of it haven't aged that well, it still stands as the definitive adaptation.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23Yr_NZhe6gpDW21XqtUBkZswydeJJHnHmeDPT-0sHPeb9TRjx5C2NvLI0FBpJou5SAH0owUIN4avDrdF2YcrBfXc1Sw_Vai7VJpDVFSPJ-rehsx21YE9-eR0elNMpyv4OWFpIXtbZvU/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23Yr_NZhe6gpDW21XqtUBkZswydeJJHnHmeDPT-0sHPeb9TRjx5C2NvLI0FBpJou5SAH0owUIN4avDrdF2YcrBfXc1Sw_Vai7VJpDVFSPJ-rehsx21YE9-eR0elNMpyv4OWFpIXtbZvU/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684554430799844546" border="0" /></a>Brook's skill as a director, both on film and in the theatre, has always been allowing the material to speak for itself. The brand that is Peter Brook bestows upon a production certain expectations of quality, but this derives from a captivating whole rather than individual gimmicks. Brook clearly understands the pattern and composition of Golding's prose, and very rarely feels the need to impose his own attitude onto the visual rendering of it. This is a sign of confidence in both the source material and in one's capabilities as a director.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVbhzB13Jhbdber-0Urzvzx374zW2_jUvfcQpfue1v5vfI39lI-YVzacU10PBYfGn5UnMwWAwtJTEcQT7Hgb2OzwReTrWSGCnWSW8m0LLxCUoTVkRi0y3qsIiTWvHDEprR0PlJzE8eIE/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVbhzB13Jhbdber-0Urzvzx374zW2_jUvfcQpfue1v5vfI39lI-YVzacU10PBYfGn5UnMwWAwtJTEcQT7Hgb2OzwReTrWSGCnWSW8m0LLxCUoTVkRi0y3qsIiTWvHDEprR0PlJzE8eIE/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684554118462415762" border="0" /></a>The one notable exception to this comes in the opening credits. As the various names flash past, we see images of English civilisation at its supposed peak - all choir boys and straw boaters - intercut with ICBMs and B52s. In one particularly haunting image, we see the image of a bomber drawn on a boy's textbook in a photo full of smiling faces in uniform. This is a novel way of introducing the theme, and probably stems as much from the novel as from the experience of filming it. While much of Golding's work is about the threat of nuclear war, Brook shot large portions of the film in the Bay of Pigs, not long after the Cuban Missile Crisis.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXd2q0Dy3cMClVg9twc59uqEiRiMOY8G-z1OE2dRlDCo2PrUc47Hb-ivlk_YLF5Nlm3k-XiJO8qatw9u-o8Y4YSHanj3PBnYfjjT8lnTyOzKt3soDS5yqWZ05LU65r6qnBmvmhACGddg/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXd2q0Dy3cMClVg9twc59uqEiRiMOY8G-z1OE2dRlDCo2PrUc47Hb-ivlk_YLF5Nlm3k-XiJO8qatw9u-o8Y4YSHanj3PBnYfjjT8lnTyOzKt3soDS5yqWZ05LU65r6qnBmvmhACGddg/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684553133409678386" border="0" /></a>The central idea of <span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Flies</span> is that Man is inherently savage: that within every seemingly civilised, rational and morally upright individual, there is a dark-hearted beast which will reveal itself even in the most innocent of circumstances. The film is the visual equivalent of a thought experiment, a philosophical game in which theories are tested hypothetically and judged according to the behavioural responses they produce. Golding concludes, as does Brook, that Man's murky, Hobbesian desire for self-preservation overrides everything else, to the point where tribalism is commonplace, murder is justified, and objective truth (should such a thing exist) holds no sway whatsoever.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWKXbPisxyy_4H50hiPR_mpcVxN1JgLLbKTPYkl59gsUU6YiaiNePgdQDQl00TrwTLS0dy6tNl5DEVUIaAD5ofSliVN_3WQOEMi1p2nzbTxlU6cfdQFkF4VpgZsNHjyfazUlNbs01jH4/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 187px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWKXbPisxyy_4H50hiPR_mpcVxN1JgLLbKTPYkl59gsUU6YiaiNePgdQDQl00TrwTLS0dy6tNl5DEVUIaAD5ofSliVN_3WQOEMi1p2nzbTxlU6cfdQFkF4VpgZsNHjyfazUlNbs01jH4/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684553229677267154" border="0" /></a>There has been some discussion over the years about the relationship between Golding's thesis and the Christian position on Mankind, i.e. the role of Sin, the long-term effects of the Fall, and the possible role of grace and redemption. Brook brings these discussions to the forefront and seems to suggest that the teachings of Christ provide no resistance to or adequate means of containing the beast, at least without proper application. The choirboys, who enter singing 'Kyrie Eleison' ('Lord, have mercy') along the beach, turn out to be the most ruthless, merciless and hierarchical group on the island.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0eJkCSEzPESvGTb3JXXPHZguIzv2aE8_WuGEGNFUCPg4RwBlAkJFtXAKTYZ48-Jj6OZkQ6AdL58jdSXlBYAx4nrVbSRSmQvUkqJHHlLMXgIOaKmLlWjoH398fKULoJY9sdJQsWfYFtY/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0eJkCSEzPESvGTb3JXXPHZguIzv2aE8_WuGEGNFUCPg4RwBlAkJFtXAKTYZ48-Jj6OZkQ6AdL58jdSXlBYAx4nrVbSRSmQvUkqJHHlLMXgIOaKmLlWjoH398fKULoJY9sdJQsWfYFtY/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684552481148562018" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Flies</span> is not specifically anti-Christian because of this development. The characters are assessed and leaders emerge on the basis of physical strength and the ability to command respect. This is a quarrel between reason and instinct, between head and heart (or stomach), rather than an outright rejection of Christianity in favour of atheism or any other seemingly opposite doctrine. If anything Christian imagery abounds in <span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Flies</span>, with the island serving as the world outside the Garden of Eden, the plane crash doubling quite literally for the Fall, and the arrival of the sea captain at the end as either the coming of Jesus or the arrival of the New Heaven and Earth.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2qh7IEsJo76Ot2ODo4RdpKsbB0QA8lrq_fkwUn_P8xRxf7b8vdnVXT6zwxZnG6EDQD9ciBmuQruowysunLO3m7Ly0KBzVSTxt9EB3yH-19BDDgWggu0FoJCDJkula1ZW0CXe-aq6LZY/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2qh7IEsJo76Ot2ODo4RdpKsbB0QA8lrq_fkwUn_P8xRxf7b8vdnVXT6zwxZnG6EDQD9ciBmuQruowysunLO3m7Ly0KBzVSTxt9EB3yH-19BDDgWggu0FoJCDJkula1ZW0CXe-aq6LZY/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684553389359588578" border="0" /></a>In its emphasis on instinct and tribalism, <span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Flies</span> could come across as a purely nihilistic work - a film which explores the idea of life being totally pointless, and the only natural part of human behaviour being the desire for power which manifests itself in utterly amoral violence. But one of the successes of Brook's adaptation is to demonstrate how even the most morally skewed civilisation has some form of supernatural basis, either in its recognition of a God-like force, or its need to create such a force to justify itself.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOyxsjoPC12wTFAW8VZr-xWmbNfbLITxJ0zaxGi3uEzTl04L8PCS-JAh_wggWJUMFPzkIZccEAUuk54m64U2nNLyMLZoeQXGnKEB1DFAOltJpX4N98Qcz-DSfZmL7Ubobey96IUb2A0LI/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOyxsjoPC12wTFAW8VZr-xWmbNfbLITxJ0zaxGi3uEzTl04L8PCS-JAh_wggWJUMFPzkIZccEAUuk54m64U2nNLyMLZoeQXGnKEB1DFAOltJpX4N98Qcz-DSfZmL7Ubobey96IUb2A0LI/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684554019890663986" border="0" /></a>The warrior tribe formed by the choristers begin to talk about a beast which lives on the island, which must be contained by sacrifices or killed if the group is to survive. The sacrifices which they offer to the beast, in the form of a boar's head on a pike, immediately take on a supernatural quality, consolidated by the scenes of them hollering on the beach and dancing around the fire like Native Americans. The beast is like the distant, jealous God from the Old Testament: no-one has the courage to meet or confront the force which seemingly controls them.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PVCoJ2kD7RX4fyuLG-H5I4QqXIIzQ8NwUbSO6glkSkuUlDCw2n9_q88vnofZuITxc5tp0XQ4rks_9II8-OPH1eKjZlc0gej_Jb9-AwSntRe9zLafPh4kxeM0GXz5G8ab2uysffUxehc/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 248px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PVCoJ2kD7RX4fyuLG-H5I4QqXIIzQ8NwUbSO6glkSkuUlDCw2n9_q88vnofZuITxc5tp0XQ4rks_9II8-OPH1eKjZlc0gej_Jb9-AwSntRe9zLafPh4kxeM0GXz5G8ab2uysffUxehc/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684553563437271106" border="0" /></a>Both Golding and Brook are very even-handed in their treatment of both the political and supernatural aspects of the events on the island. The subtle orchestration of the meeting scenes, where the conche is passed around and people voice their opinions on what should be done, ably demonstrate both the strengths and weaknesses of both democratic government and militaristic barbarism. One of the most striking images in the film is that of the boar's head; as one of the boys stares at it, the camera zooms in onto the flies slowly eating it away. It's as disturbing and discomforting an image as the cockroaches at the start of <span style="font-style: italic;">Blue Velvet</span>, both in its weight and in its ability to make one feel queasy.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FosMbW2wbOtYHimRdVnteeIdJmmdYwE3quZpxhBogddcWQCU_7LN0wtYKoIGO-RIy7CFFsnIzxOaLMirhwWwoe8DzQC-8WDRS2GUuQ7g76yPih7lvQWhLCH6tQ6WCr1hRA8jfZevaWc/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 257px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FosMbW2wbOtYHimRdVnteeIdJmmdYwE3quZpxhBogddcWQCU_7LN0wtYKoIGO-RIy7CFFsnIzxOaLMirhwWwoe8DzQC-8WDRS2GUuQ7g76yPih7lvQWhLCH6tQ6WCr1hRA8jfZevaWc/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684552925357770514" border="0" /></a>All of these visual and narrative touches are in keeping with the source material while putting a particular artistic and cinematic stamp on the events that unfold. This balance between loyalty and artistic licence allows Brook's adaptation to be entrist without being reductionist. In other words, you can read as much into the film as you like, without either having the themes shoved down your throat or feeling like you are watching something that has been severely abridged or bowdlerised. Considering how familiar the material is in English literature, this is quite an achievement.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7f-KsJrMIbJwHZv1XisuT03HjSetM0WtExEkKVZooHdwUOhKz7qqj1DvTY9Pu_NVCob-C3fvu1IBj-zFYTjFlxwAYeK8Y3RwpvxYk2VNZp6MdThj9xI8VrOVb5StloF6kS1dGOrvEPw/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7f-KsJrMIbJwHZv1XisuT03HjSetM0WtExEkKVZooHdwUOhKz7qqj1DvTY9Pu_NVCob-C3fvu1IBj-zFYTjFlxwAYeK8Y3RwpvxYk2VNZp6MdThj9xI8VrOVb5StloF6kS1dGOrvEPw/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684552781052994594" border="0" /></a>The performances in <span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Flies </span>are all of a pretty decent calibre. Brook did not work from a specific script: in a foreshadowing of Mike Leigh's rigorous method of improvisation, he would give the young boys a rough idea of what would happen in a scene, and then allow them to ad lib with minimal prompting. It takes a while to adjust to their delivery, but they are generally convincing, particularly a young James Aubrey as Ralph.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddszk58F3OjhE42ljf-a8lMtevypvPCbZhN0PHVZJOMjQV0ACKH2RdGQoplGafnedX77oMIYolludwNlsOC3m6NAvK2ngXrs8wqn715ULHP7lcbUDd7rd2tXbQOaSB-JmuIJxz1t7Xng/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 257px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddszk58F3OjhE42ljf-a8lMtevypvPCbZhN0PHVZJOMjQV0ACKH2RdGQoplGafnedX77oMIYolludwNlsOC3m6NAvK2ngXrs8wqn715ULHP7lcbUDd7rd2tXbQOaSB-JmuIJxz1t7Xng/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684553800838094962" border="0" /></a>The problems with <span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Flies</span> surround aspects of either the source or the adaptation which have dated. The ending of Lord of the Flies remains a classic <span style="font-style: italic;">deus ex machina</span> (in more ways than one); with all that has gone before, it would have been scarier and more radical for the film to have ended with Ralph being killed, cementing the beast's triumph and subverting the Christian imagery. Aspects of the dialogue, such as the social attitudes of the boys, have not aged very well, and the sound design is occasionally a little stilted. Because of time constraints Brook was forced to record the sound for each scene after they had shot it, resulting in a couple of synching issues or odd deliveries.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuahkBnCsZAIWXcf6yIagBle4J_M2A9gE_29BTPfN2BFnHHOlO-MshEr7XSln3P_HUG1GqaaKTha57GS6wTniGKxzzPtpAjeMRFWIpFwIQB8uM0dYZSpbUCfGjFuNDuWRnmWB8986RZRQ/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuahkBnCsZAIWXcf6yIagBle4J_M2A9gE_29BTPfN2BFnHHOlO-MshEr7XSln3P_HUG1GqaaKTha57GS6wTniGKxzzPtpAjeMRFWIpFwIQB8uM0dYZSpbUCfGjFuNDuWRnmWB8986RZRQ/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684554301155988962" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Flies</span> is a fiery and faithful adaptation which has more or less retained its potency after nearly 50 years. Notwithstanding the dated aspects and the on-going problem of the ending, it captures the pessimistic, despondent tone of Golding's work beautifully, and has many scenes capable of generating either outright scares or hideous chills. It remains the definitive adaptation of the book and one of the highlights of Brook's career in film.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=4stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 80px; height: 16px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/4stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: A faithfully haunting adaptation<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-74770800979657864492011-12-02T01:42:00.017+00:002011-12-02T23:41:43.222+00:00FILM REVIEW: (500) Days of Summer (2009)<span style="font-weight: bold;">(500) Days of Summer (USA, 2009)</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directed by Marc Webb</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Zooey Deschanel, Chloe Moretz, Clark Gregg</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>As a film enthusiast you're always on the lookout for innovation in films - not specifically for films which move the goalposts and redefine our notions of cinema, but for those which take something well-worn and familiar and challenge it for a new audience. With this in mind, there is nothing that can get one's gander up more than a film which claims or thinks that it is being inventive, when in fact the merest glance beneath its surface shows that it is nothing of the sort.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5Sg9WwkHr2gTyT5lxI60eoYKlvmelSufqO1KUWwMFV2x6zg43yhP_2QfDkY_bGtFcuU9YvlNHOoVF3yosoN3S9QZmDgFUR9VKe2pLEkv-7O6Ro0j5emr4Cz2kC07rYzjabA5SZdPwTU/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5Sg9WwkHr2gTyT5lxI60eoYKlvmelSufqO1KUWwMFV2x6zg43yhP_2QfDkY_bGtFcuU9YvlNHOoVF3yosoN3S9QZmDgFUR9VKe2pLEkv-7O6Ro0j5emr4Cz2kC07rYzjabA5SZdPwTU/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681677260138543890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">(500) Days of Summer</span> comes at you with claims of being a genuine postmodern love story, an <span style="font-style: italic;">Annie Hall</span> for the Twitter generation, or a rom-com for people who genuinely hate rom-coms. While it may not have the putridly glossy veneer of <span style="font-style: italic;">Sex and the City</span>, the film ultimately shoots itself in the foot by being too kooky for its own good, and too structurally self-conscious to feel genuine. While there are still ideas and moments which sparkle, for the most part it feels disappointingly hollow.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJz78Rn09ReSKcp6pM9ZtTNpkTWqi0ueMwuCDOuyvLdURUy7GdvnjwuLowmrx-sgak9A_UZeaOnKjbLzOtxZi_PfPiveTjPo86LELojiNcdae0mSDLzR2h8htPCS7BX07KqnsLut7SUPo/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJz78Rn09ReSKcp6pM9ZtTNpkTWqi0ueMwuCDOuyvLdURUy7GdvnjwuLowmrx-sgak9A_UZeaOnKjbLzOtxZi_PfPiveTjPo86LELojiNcdae0mSDLzR2h8htPCS7BX07KqnsLut7SUPo/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681677349405369906" border="0" /></a>There's no denying that the makers of <span style="font-style: italic;">(500) Days of Summer </span>had their hearts in the right place when setting out. In an age where cinema is increasingly and ever more cynically geared to the interests of teenage boys, romantic comedies or dramas with believable female protagonists are harder and harder to come by. The majority of contemporary romantic comedies are either predictable rehashes of stuff from the 1980s and 1990s, or vacuous vessels for product placement, offering women supposed material satisfaction in place of some more permanent form of happiness or self-esteem.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKD2XL1mLGFrMX9AuaC2WTIVS7b9rCdk1oqGok1FjH3oKiCIiJ9P7Z1ppoAnIWVOttgimJg31ccE-ArKVjMV7d7B-CRIswMFQr0ldwQOF-lfcB3UIVyKJqclAryMApzvXMywcAt7miqY/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKD2XL1mLGFrMX9AuaC2WTIVS7b9rCdk1oqGok1FjH3oKiCIiJ9P7Z1ppoAnIWVOttgimJg31ccE-ArKVjMV7d7B-CRIswMFQr0ldwQOF-lfcB3UIVyKJqclAryMApzvXMywcAt7miqY/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681679665406612594" border="0" /></a>Marc Webb's film is at its strongest when it attempts to puncture that self-contained, pre-packaged form of contentment. Joseph Gordon-Levitt writes greetings cards for a living, and struggles to remain optimistic or positive about the prospect of love in generalr. In one of the film's best scenes, he stands up in the middle of a meeting and lets rip about how hollow and meaningless love and happiness have become. Our culture has become so orientated around 'events', seeing emotion as something to be conveyed through commerce, that we are losing our ability to genuinely feel affection or understand each other.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLZTidyzAuV71r1b-n2eBJLYdbv9uTrftLt-ly4YXZvLhIhwDdio3neBRjxmSplh2C3v66bk0D08ritUGgQvdovuEKZ14wW5f3F32HQgRo8lT6_oaKuVgV1NbiPPZES2-Rpo3Q_VkN7M/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 304px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLZTidyzAuV71r1b-n2eBJLYdbv9uTrftLt-ly4YXZvLhIhwDdio3neBRjxmSplh2C3v66bk0D08ritUGgQvdovuEKZ14wW5f3F32HQgRo8lT6_oaKuVgV1NbiPPZES2-Rpo3Q_VkN7M/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681677608806499202" border="0" /></a>Somewhere within <span style="font-style: italic;">(500) Days of Summer</span>, there is an edgier, more adventurous film which wants to use this premise to completely deconstruct the modern notion of love and romance. There is the potential within this material for something as scabrous and poisonous as <span style="font-style: italic;">Heathers</span>, a ferociously funny film which ripped into the John Hughes view of high school by making you both squirm and howl with laughter. But try as he might, Webb can't seem to bring this desire to the surface for more than a few moments at a time. For all its claims of being left-field, indie-spirited and unconventional, <span style="font-style: italic;">(500) Days of Summer</span> is structurally all too similar to the films whose clichés it claims to subvert.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgphU56MZMZDglHZyiBj7tY__McEuSns1sxtFGtYLk2uGEeHIqW8Q_Rx27xx9CZBi9EmIu-QlyxdqSiv75Gkt6rL-j6b1ycQYmAle1DmSAAtjvD-tVaQVTFn2wan_ArhPgOxqN1vDvvF90/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgphU56MZMZDglHZyiBj7tY__McEuSns1sxtFGtYLk2uGEeHIqW8Q_Rx27xx9CZBi9EmIu-QlyxdqSiv75Gkt6rL-j6b1ycQYmAle1DmSAAtjvD-tVaQVTFn2wan_ArhPgOxqN1vDvvF90/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681680016999446818" border="0" /></a>The single biggest problem with the film is that its structure of shuffled timeframes doesn't work. The film occupies the same kind of ground as <span style="font-style: italic;">Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind</span>, trying to depict or capture the seemingly random way in which memory works within the context of a failed romantic relationship. But where Michel Gondry used the shuffled structure with great intelligence, confounding our expectations and getting us to question our own memories, Marc Webb treats it as a gimmick, as little more than a device to distract from the conventional elements of the story.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXl6QeDxh1kb7ZgD0e94vIrRrmHcQP-0T8kGdFL6Aat8YYftCf-doZCnWcCBfV5td3ctMglki8Y5R4de7NjYoQYJJ06uYErDZg7ZPhswWAtl8PXYnkpqhS2ZvNehx94mdYbWtZwAuI-oY/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXl6QeDxh1kb7ZgD0e94vIrRrmHcQP-0T8kGdFL6Aat8YYftCf-doZCnWcCBfV5td3ctMglki8Y5R4de7NjYoQYJJ06uYErDZg7ZPhswWAtl8PXYnkpqhS2ZvNehx94mdYbWtZwAuI-oY/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681679387245484946" border="0" /></a>This lack of confidence in the use of non-linear narrative is shown by the presence of a narrator. Having a narrator in any kind of story gives a feeling of certainty to the direction and outcome of the plot. This is even true of film noir, where an unreliable narrator makes us certain that we should not trust anyone. When you have a film which sells itself on being free-spirited and unpredictable, you don't want any creative element which would suggest otherwise. The narration here is as pointless as the narration in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Big Lebowski</span>; it cheapens the experience by introducing choreography into an atmosphere of spontaneity.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejNXT_puwqAFXrDFil50HtaLymIkHQAXmtuuzLCoCq48aA0Vb4FFec9lbBOQMWwpaQcJ8ff_LgYhCVspGlQQKEQ8nAMegFu-zwXe0G-5htHPFROZE0N5mqH0RJsfGNLQPOu9P3yVm0FM/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejNXT_puwqAFXrDFil50HtaLymIkHQAXmtuuzLCoCq48aA0Vb4FFec9lbBOQMWwpaQcJ8ff_LgYhCVspGlQQKEQ8nAMegFu-zwXe0G-5htHPFROZE0N5mqH0RJsfGNLQPOu9P3yVm0FM/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681679511221566818" border="0" /></a>In terms of the central relationship, there isn't a great deal about either Tom or Summer which hasn't been covered in some depth before. Dynamically they're very similar to the main characters in <span style="font-style: italic;">Annie Hall</span>: Joseph Gordon-Levitt may not be as neurotic or self-hating as Woody Allen, but Zooey Deschanel is frequently as off-the-wall (and as annoying) as Diane Keaton. The idea of the relationship being important despite the fact that boy and girl do not end up together has been handled more conclusively in several other films. I don't recall either <span style="font-style: italic;">Annie Hall</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Gregory's Girl</span> having such a clunker of a final scene.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfiAf58MfeFFbbJ1_17EcTe5RV6lL06ovlhPbmx4rwVRsT42H4f9QMPwKfDe14ibL2Bu7SddCidWv7qGZPYJLgtG7DcKPu3CW1Mk7Zrq-paoQJNC_4ZvgrmkC7hY4SWadmb0HnvKNWlo/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfiAf58MfeFFbbJ1_17EcTe5RV6lL06ovlhPbmx4rwVRsT42H4f9QMPwKfDe14ibL2Bu7SddCidWv7qGZPYJLgtG7DcKPu3CW1Mk7Zrq-paoQJNC_4ZvgrmkC7hY4SWadmb0HnvKNWlo/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681680258349710962" border="0" /></a>The familiar elements of <span style="font-style: italic;">(500) Days of Summer </span>keep coming to the fore as the film moves forward (and backward). The conversations surrounding musical taste are essentially the same as the arguments in Stephen Frears' <span style="font-style: italic;">High Fidelity</span>, but with an indie gloss on top (in other words, substitute any other band for 'The Smiths' and you're home free). Summer may claim that romance is dead like it's a novel concept, but she is essentially playing the Billy Crystal role in <span style="font-style: italic;">When Harry Met Sally...</span>, being the sceptical side of a relationship which treads on the edge of friendship. There's nothing wrong with making a love story with familiar scenes and plot points, but it helps if the film is happy with admitting this, rather than constantly avoiding the issue so that it can continue claiming to be original.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDPaQupd02UTTHeSVfbqKr-uJ4W1dY9e8z5IvwNGv_cFGvSQ3LR0N0hiU14PFVQLCj58KCU-Mi_L_QbhZTfkD_k49ntHaWGD-RUOnfNcC8sZooxeBfX7C7C2lID0hQ6tQrer2mpVMwpY/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDPaQupd02UTTHeSVfbqKr-uJ4W1dY9e8z5IvwNGv_cFGvSQ3LR0N0hiU14PFVQLCj58KCU-Mi_L_QbhZTfkD_k49ntHaWGD-RUOnfNcC8sZooxeBfX7C7C2lID0hQ6tQrer2mpVMwpY/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681677480621527762" border="0" /></a>One of the problems with the indie genre is that it attempts to compensate for the ordinary, often dull nature of its stories with unbridled levels of kookiness. While <span style="font-style: italic;">(500) Days of Summer</span> isn't exactly off the radar, it contains any number of moments which will send the less tolerant among us running for cover. Some of the sillier romantic scenes are funny, like Summer's quip about her high school nickname, or the couple frolicking around in Ikea and remarking that "there's a Japanese family in our bathroom". But Deschanel's impromptu singing and the drunken karaoke scenes which follow are a clear sign of the plot running out of steam. And that's not to mention the completely misjudged musical number, which is closer to <span style="font-style: italic;">High School Musical</span> than <span style="font-style: italic;">Singing in the Rain</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteEWEonKerDHYqYGAjKekfnBeKAs8mgWiY0en4qKrAfjU-iT91ofnC3EWKlPTw7tvPRgL23uJu7NxUIZCkXZe2kU4gUK-ft78hX3wIjl8rdrUx60Fb90JXevids0W8KNMYpAdZokfeOM/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteEWEonKerDHYqYGAjKekfnBeKAs8mgWiY0en4qKrAfjU-iT91ofnC3EWKlPTw7tvPRgL23uJu7NxUIZCkXZe2kU4gUK-ft78hX3wIjl8rdrUx60Fb90JXevids0W8KNMYpAdZokfeOM/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681680112999047186" border="0" /></a>The final, and most surprising, problem is the film's lack of interest in the motivations of its female character. While Tom gets his fair share of backstory about failed relationships, and those of his male workmates for comparison, we get no real indication of what has made Summer who she is, and why she behaves towards men in the way she does. One could argue that this is symptomatic of the genre as a whole, with the film becoming less of a rom-com than a bromance that happens to have girls in. But that does not excuse the lack of intrigue surrounding Summer, for which Zooey Deschanel must take some of the blame. Regardless of how underwritten she is, you cannot make us care about someone by staring doe-eyed into middle distance for two hours.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGU1cPJOiV5x0_xTSqGjDPIW9nEclb4f6uxispH39W7lHBM2YhjwFiu6MOfRExFdIFKT2eXSu3hbE8fgoDiyfrMcToOY1eqSmMhdpAPljm7ywwnxjGaLVpcATKka44n-E1Szxph9IHehI/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGU1cPJOiV5x0_xTSqGjDPIW9nEclb4f6uxispH39W7lHBM2YhjwFiu6MOfRExFdIFKT2eXSu3hbE8fgoDiyfrMcToOY1eqSmMhdpAPljm7ywwnxjGaLVpcATKka44n-E1Szxph9IHehI/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681679864636532226" border="0" /></a>The other performances in the film are a little more promising. Joseph Gordon-Levitt has proved his action chops in <span style="font-style: italic;">Brick</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Inception</span>, and he does the best he can with a role which requires him to be constantly either in a mood or blank-faced wonder. A pre-<span style="font-style: italic;">Kick-Ass</span> Chloe Moretz is thoroughly impressive as Tom's worldly-wise younger sister, with both actor and character having wisdom beyond their years without looking like they are trying to play younger than themselves. And Clark Gregg is convincing as Tom's boss, coming across as creepy and unsettling without going over-the-top.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5kImk447b667Pe6l3pJOzanGwgLUmW7jDqLk-RkAZzGk4HhM5fwqNNkKy_a4u6ajOzYuEbv4Tkm1HXY3ABxTjyDfUjx6aazjFl08MpuAdcjYu5VmVbTfxJvjs6glywuVPs20_aX8EPk/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5kImk447b667Pe6l3pJOzanGwgLUmW7jDqLk-RkAZzGk4HhM5fwqNNkKy_a4u6ajOzYuEbv4Tkm1HXY3ABxTjyDfUjx6aazjFl08MpuAdcjYu5VmVbTfxJvjs6glywuVPs20_aX8EPk/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681679766017469250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">(500) Days of Summer</span> is a disappointing and deeply overrated addition to the rom-com genre. When stripped of all its hype and kookiness, it is essentially <span style="font-style: italic;">Annie Hall</span> with shuffled timeframes, half the brains and less than half the conviction. Had Marc Webb the guts to risk being unpopular, and deconstruct the notion of modern love head on, it might have been more memorable, distinctive and enjoyable. One hopes that he will do a better job when dealing with Peter Parker.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=2stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/2stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Verdict: Overrated and overly kooky<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-44609481542601613242011-11-26T23:09:00.018+00:002011-11-27T00:55:33.413+00:00FILM REVIEW: East is East (1999)<span style="font-weight: bold;">East is East (UK, 1999)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Damien O'Donnell</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Om Puri, Linda Bassett, Ian Aspinall, Jimi Mistry</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br />There's a long-running tradition in British cinema of finding humour, particularly black humour, in the grimmest and most oppressive circumstances. This tradition arguably reached its peak during the British New Wave of the 1950s and 1960s, whose legacy remains felt in the works of Ken Loach, Mike Leigh and to a lesser extent Andrea Arnold. But even though the days of <span style="font-style: italic;">Kes </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">A Taste of Honey</span> may be long gone, there have been a trickle of films which have kept this tradition going while putting their own stamp on matters. And while not up there with the best work of Loach and Leigh, <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> does deserve commendation.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgERuFrRv9FSmEH9vS6Ykb1lwTNJG3t-kDQSUnt2jY2_eZsOa1ue_jYqhwe7bkdMN_R7OHqk6YMlvACE9qGnn_quLKf4OTAXtvmgBhx8S9PG5hAR1FdU99d8kvaPV1J-Udm5rJ00Z0Szlg/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgERuFrRv9FSmEH9vS6Ykb1lwTNJG3t-kDQSUnt2jY2_eZsOa1ue_jYqhwe7bkdMN_R7OHqk6YMlvACE9qGnn_quLKf4OTAXtvmgBhx8S9PG5hAR1FdU99d8kvaPV1J-Udm5rJ00Z0Szlg/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679465440500858050" border="0" /></a>Based on the autobiographical novel and stage play by Ayub Khan-Din, East is East examines the culture clash of Pakistani George Khan (Om Puri) as he struggles to raise his large family in early-1970s Salford. The strife on the streets, epitomised by posters of Enoch Powell, is nothing compared to the hardship Khan's children and wife endure under his iron rule. While Khan is committed to upholding Pakistani traditions, arranging the lavish weddings of his sons and daughters, his offspring are more interested in living life the British way, filled with nightclubs, snogging and questionable art projects.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz25SloZ_jYk79L2VxVN5vki-G5B3QgiPT00WZ6Sb4-Wox_V0-8yMXOrKp4HD-AvQP3NnnN7cmPxzDBcWMsyNZvOSIFxlGdsorbHJj9aHdmMOItyU7SUuNMF_yImZ4tWSeGqAZ9mVg6V0/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz25SloZ_jYk79L2VxVN5vki-G5B3QgiPT00WZ6Sb4-Wox_V0-8yMXOrKp4HD-AvQP3NnnN7cmPxzDBcWMsyNZvOSIFxlGdsorbHJj9aHdmMOItyU7SUuNMF_yImZ4tWSeGqAZ9mVg6V0/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679462558693126530" border="0" /></a>The look of <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> harks back to the kitchen-sink dramas which were spawned from the British New Wave. There are strong hints in Jimi Mistry's character of<span style="font-style: italic;"> Saturday Night and Sunday Morning</span>: Mistry fills in for Albert Finney as a vessel of burgeoning rage and frustration, desperate to break out and abandon the cell in which he finds himself. The youngest son, who spends most of the film hiding his face with a parka, is as downtrodden and victimised as the protagonist of<span style="font-style: italic;"> Kes</span>, to the point where we expect him to run away towards the end.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRp3XfzCfvXr3VO_69t4HL91hT1EwdroLnh-xviq6kO71t74RcN5MXJyj2Ks6VQE7TUQzyQdBwmuHpQZQuVghfM1Bn1rI-LiGiR_MqdUsv10CWzGARf6aLLyUBGzJb0iGBtSvwHeQYEAA/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRp3XfzCfvXr3VO_69t4HL91hT1EwdroLnh-xviq6kO71t74RcN5MXJyj2Ks6VQE7TUQzyQdBwmuHpQZQuVghfM1Bn1rI-LiGiR_MqdUsv10CWzGARf6aLLyUBGzJb0iGBtSvwHeQYEAA/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679468155941806194" border="0" /></a>But on top of these gritty references, <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> is also a close cousin of more upbeat, feel-good dramas like <span style="font-style: italic;">The Full Monty</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Brassed Off</span>. The influence of the latter is plain to see in the opening scene, which features a military parade marching through crowded urban streets. Damien O'Donnell would later direct the life-affirming drama <span style="font-style: italic;">Inside I'm Dancing</span>, and is most at home with the lighter, more uplifting sections of the film. But like both <span style="font-style: italic;">Brassed Off</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Full Monty</span>, there is depth to <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> as well as delight. Just as <span style="font-style: italic;">The Full Monty</span> is a film about unemployment that just happens to involve strippers, so <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> is an often powerful drama which just happens to be cheerfully funny.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMmQbdcTmdEwbo5Ge55jRZBMXLBok8ABs-456ixsSkVyxJqWgiAtuXATSOWVcPIbtiB5R44_DRYCnJThfABBAZTwCdqFIjdOJHh_AqOKJ_CDnPk5lamQz8xIuwt5gf_mrtGs63b-XbjU/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMmQbdcTmdEwbo5Ge55jRZBMXLBok8ABs-456ixsSkVyxJqWgiAtuXATSOWVcPIbtiB5R44_DRYCnJThfABBAZTwCdqFIjdOJHh_AqOKJ_CDnPk5lamQz8xIuwt5gf_mrtGs63b-XbjU/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679469741706009090" border="0" /></a>The first big plus point of <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> is its balance, not just in terms of the two races or cultures but in its approach to tackling the stereotypes of each of them. It never falls into the trap of reducing either culture to a caricature, whether by having the Pakistanis as intolerant and impetuous or the English as overly cultured and aloof. It completely punctures racial prejudice, using the extremes of Khan and his bigoted white neighbour to demonstrate how futile and destructive prejudice can be. It depicts intolerance as something which, while directed outwards, is corrosive inwards, damaging the things you care about the most.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkDtH1F2UcmQoQUU9LVKrKjdcPtVNrUvECM4W0QaqBAXXQto2Zgk0uoy6QlS4usILfrns2xGao2wcdhoBwy2wVVb0xQ8gHYxACerdwCNjp2p4nsonl44q6GSQDpTnvEP4FJp8dLpjbMk/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkDtH1F2UcmQoQUU9LVKrKjdcPtVNrUvECM4W0QaqBAXXQto2Zgk0uoy6QlS4usILfrns2xGao2wcdhoBwy2wVVb0xQ8gHYxACerdwCNjp2p4nsonl44q6GSQDpTnvEP4FJp8dLpjbMk/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679464531433497954" border="0" /></a>In a similar fashion, <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> has a very fair attitude towards integration. It could be called the Bible of cinematic multiculturalism, at least of the kind being espoused by 1990s politicians. It acknowledges Britain's history as a melting-pot of different cultures, languages and religions, co-existing often uneasily but with ultimately rich and distinctive results. The Khan family outside of George are keen to integrate, retaining aspects of their existing identity while embracing their new home and all it has to offer. George, on the other hand, is so insistent upon keeping what he deems to be Pakistani identity alive, he doesn't believe anyone else's opinion is remotely valid or important.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkcMQGXUbDmCnqNvDRJ8y3KCJp31HpwV1cW3vpyFJSnwrq9SzHYKQA4Nlf4Ur2-fG76QTdCH48BRKoxitys9LgoxMvIHqDojwvip-4qjvhczIh8hxEtLxi6pQbzT8kXBUVpyzqe83FVE/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkcMQGXUbDmCnqNvDRJ8y3KCJp31HpwV1cW3vpyFJSnwrq9SzHYKQA4Nlf4Ur2-fG76QTdCH48BRKoxitys9LgoxMvIHqDojwvip-4qjvhczIh8hxEtLxi6pQbzT8kXBUVpyzqe83FVE/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679471035591063890" border="0" /></a>George justifies his attitude through his traditional role as head of the family. This is the one aspect of Pakistani culture (as presented in the film) which Britain shares: wives and children are expected to defer almost lovingly to the iron will of the husband and father, even when they are convinced he is in the wrong. The role of women is a key issue in <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span>, with the recurring theme of arranged marriages and the association of progeny being 'sold off' to satisfy or please another family.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4X3HdhBi5eCLGhIWbCIHTiVe-nKSLZ_tOBYGwqMpFivMQbqfElD3OMyKw_NPkxfPZQ_ibct2lukWazmqexzD-aSEhwKeP1JEe2efBSwuzzFSC8RGZChfQo-zrcV1nd-ZvstGYn6V-j4U/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4X3HdhBi5eCLGhIWbCIHTiVe-nKSLZ_tOBYGwqMpFivMQbqfElD3OMyKw_NPkxfPZQ_ibct2lukWazmqexzD-aSEhwKeP1JEe2efBSwuzzFSC8RGZChfQo-zrcV1nd-ZvstGYn6V-j4U/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679471541482628578" border="0" /></a>British cinema has a long tradition of strong female protagonists, particularly in urban dramas. While much of the British New Wave was criticised for being male-centric, or masculine in tone and outlook, works like <span style="font-style: italic;">A Taste of Honey</span> and to some extent <span style="font-style: italic;">The L-Shaped Room</span> pointed to the strength of women in circumstances which would appear to be inferior and weak. Linda Bassett's long-suffering Mancunian mother is a descendent of the kind of roles that Rita Tushingham used to get: she's the one who most comes into her own in the film, eventually managing to stand up to George while somehow still managing to love him.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEt69RCcP0wnj1y5Vjhe05KOzxPpXRvaqzRcwUUUf4KmD4YfZFuaOISf3YyZwFvuelvSLQGSIFXPqaN3dlXXKcCdpy1eMqymbzK2Nyf4V8WatdC76aef6s14z1QCdcEvd3lb4Eo2CrMUU/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEt69RCcP0wnj1y5Vjhe05KOzxPpXRvaqzRcwUUUf4KmD4YfZFuaOISf3YyZwFvuelvSLQGSIFXPqaN3dlXXKcCdpy1eMqymbzK2Nyf4V8WatdC76aef6s14z1QCdcEvd3lb4Eo2CrMUU/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679472127922373650" border="0" /></a>Looking at the way that <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> was marketed, you could be forgiven for seeing it as a parochial, quaint little comedy designed to illicit cheap laughs from the export market. The French title, <span style="font-style: italic;">Fish and Chips - la comédie qui croustille!</span> ("Fish and chips - the crunchy comedy!"), bears no resemblance to the content of the film. And then there's the American poster, in which the Asian characters are shoved out of sight at the top in favour of a white blonde chewing bubblegum - a decision which says quite a lot about the underlying prejudices of film distributors and marketers.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6JJy2JGos_AR7fM4kalSbN1bdghOuZBd3rq3sp6J-qD3SMV8aEjwmLikde28lpU6b2BP28YTlQ8SwCWoutKSIrk9UyDvNJsrJqzG-AXuCPwnyh4yKslZcfZZHmcasO5Lrc0h880GhSMY/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6JJy2JGos_AR7fM4kalSbN1bdghOuZBd3rq3sp6J-qD3SMV8aEjwmLikde28lpU6b2BP28YTlQ8SwCWoutKSIrk9UyDvNJsrJqzG-AXuCPwnyh4yKslZcfZZHmcasO5Lrc0h880GhSMY/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679468979552097842" border="0" /></a>While there are many moments in the film which will make you laugh or chuckle, the predominant feeling is one of tension and bittersweetness. We genuinely enjoy spending time with the characters, but the relationship is weighted down by the threat of the father figure and the restrictive power of tradition and expectation. Like the best work of Terrence Rattigan or Alan Ayckbourn, we find ourselves almost screaming at how the younger characters are hemmed in by their elders, with any deviation deemed to be disobedience or the worst form of vulgarity.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyQFOM-lyqjMlhh10nVgD3JomnQRCd8Ql8crQd_CFJAqYWHlNBRuZDcR_8FR2lVft4ZM8pLk-fM8TK_lwv1D5J-VnrCpL0P6zeECj6i3wDF70E0LvY2KU-1LQTMu16cY8YPW1maU60eQ/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyQFOM-lyqjMlhh10nVgD3JomnQRCd8Ql8crQd_CFJAqYWHlNBRuZDcR_8FR2lVft4ZM8pLk-fM8TK_lwv1D5J-VnrCpL0P6zeECj6i3wDF70E0LvY2KU-1LQTMu16cY8YPW1maU60eQ/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679469311798313010" border="0" /></a>The central performances in <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> capture this burgeoning sense of havoc and frustration which is always threatening to erupt. Om Puri is a commanding and terrifying screen presence, packing out every shot like a dark shroud drawing darkness over proceedings. Linda Bassett gives as good as him, refusing to descend into the cliché of the stoic Northern housewife and remaining convincing throughout. Jimi Mistry, who recently appeared in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Arbor</span>, is deeply charismatic, channelling Albert Finney and melding it with the swagger of John Travolta in his prime. And Jordan Routledge does very well in his role as the youngest son, blending the mischievous and the fearful to perfection.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6McOUCq65HqbaAGMcu6x_PqkNeK6GySvGCBQjy191886cCqBrFxZ6MEADYIK8NZuCFNWC2Nr4QoAkT1lg38-qzd6nLHOBsSkq5n3diY7OaKtSsI1bRqPaQLLO41r_ty-sZb_CbWWImE/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6McOUCq65HqbaAGMcu6x_PqkNeK6GySvGCBQjy191886cCqBrFxZ6MEADYIK8NZuCFNWC2Nr4QoAkT1lg38-qzd6nLHOBsSkq5n3diY7OaKtSsI1bRqPaQLLO41r_ty-sZb_CbWWImE/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679462921572581442" border="0" /></a>There are a couple of problems with <span style="font-style: italic;">East is East </span>which prevent it from attaining greatness. Some of the supporting characters are underdeveloped, something which is particularly true of the two Northern girls trying to woo the Khan sons: while Emma Rydal get some room for manoeuvre as Stella, Ruth Jones' character arc doesn't move much beyond the fact that she's fat. More problematic is the ending: with all that has happened, including the violence, you wouldn't expect Linda Bassett to stay with her husband. Perhaps the film is making a point about integration: if he leaves, it would turn the message of the film on its head and imply that the two sides cannot integrate after all. That's completely understandable, but in terms of the familial relationship in and of itself, it feels contrived.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDrJnKtTeW88ychSifp9qL_bhb8fc6DzIyfHA2YBjzG-PZXacEEXYdlTE1zDXjABara3W_H6ZIdvvxGr7ukSZQDSHoQhfZFJKG-m7y3MrxVuEqn7-xriu7v85WJzRth9bckG0bzP3xGo/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 278px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDrJnKtTeW88ychSifp9qL_bhb8fc6DzIyfHA2YBjzG-PZXacEEXYdlTE1zDXjABara3W_H6ZIdvvxGr7ukSZQDSHoQhfZFJKG-m7y3MrxVuEqn7-xriu7v85WJzRth9bckG0bzP3xGo/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679472687760523778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">East is East</span> is an interesting addition to both the coming-of-age genre and the tradition of culture-class comedies. Its flaws are more or less forgivable and do not significantly encumber or hamper the comedy. After 12 years its emotional impact as is strong as its political relevance, both of which are unlikely to fade in the further passage of time. Warts and all, it is essential viewing for anyone interested in British cinema.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=4stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 75px; height: 15px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/4stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Enjoyably smart and bittersweetly funny<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-16974967877128274952011-11-13T22:57:00.021+00:002011-11-14T23:10:04.133+00:00FILM REVIEW: The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn (2011)<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn (USA, 2011)</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directed by Steven Spielberg</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Jamie Bell, Andy Serkis, Daniel Craig, Simon Pegg</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>Because of the high regard in which <span style="font-style: italic;">Tintin</span> is held around the world, it's fair to assume that any film adaptation would fall short of the mark in some way, shape or form. For all the charm and appeal of past adaptations, in film, TV and on the stage, none of them have truly captured the magic and intrigue of Hergé's iconic hero. With this in mind, Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson have delivered a film of real brio and excitement which, while by no means definitive, is definitely worth your time.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SmAtSmVLsLvTQesNe-fcwz7lIUqsD7Yi2abc2XMoHSk3iDmt9Jm6aF06lA6hS3V86_Ej75FgirSM_ffI2sZr1LbUJ1m_wFJ5cWX1dNeF3Y0vJe6uufxWj1r7FTSw3wsBlVct17ebimo/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SmAtSmVLsLvTQesNe-fcwz7lIUqsD7Yi2abc2XMoHSk3iDmt9Jm6aF06lA6hS3V86_Ej75FgirSM_ffI2sZr1LbUJ1m_wFJ5cWX1dNeF3Y0vJe6uufxWj1r7FTSw3wsBlVct17ebimo/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674624426879063426" border="0" /></a>While the marriage between Spielberg directing and Jackson producing seems like a match made in heaven, both have been guilty recently of falling short of the mark - Spielberg with the unremarkable <span style="font-style: italic;">Indy 4</span>, and Jackson with his misjudged take on <span style="font-style: italic;">The Lovely Bones</span>. Likewise, it is not safe to assume that their combined affection for the source material will translate into a brilliant adaptation. Tim Burton has long professed his love for<span style="font-style: italic;"> Alice in Wonderland</span>, but when he finally got the chance to express said love, he came a cropper.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbluIIrLIysKbKrriSx_leL0xBdlprbR-ytBMYknXiCVjXMlAGd40OGgtZJcE7XP3Caxuews27AzfolNapLWRXu1958l_tHd630bT1pLpIzQY5sZ7vIgdRA2IVmbBdwCsmfEIU6Ji-sHY/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbluIIrLIysKbKrriSx_leL0xBdlprbR-ytBMYknXiCVjXMlAGd40OGgtZJcE7XP3Caxuews27AzfolNapLWRXu1958l_tHd630bT1pLpIzQY5sZ7vIgdRA2IVmbBdwCsmfEIU6Ji-sHY/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674624911637412802" border="0" /></a>Fittingly enough, the film begins with some Burton-esque opening credits, in which we are gradually introduced to the Tintin universe while the various names fly past. The opening animation gleefully replicates the feel of the comics, drawing on the plot of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Seven Crystal Balls</span> and capturing every detail, right down to the drawn-on gasps. It has the same playful feel as the <span style="font-style: italic;">Pink Panther</span> opening credits, and goes some way to both setting the scene and reassuring the fans that they are in safe hands.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdO-nfLmZokavT8duzQmscAYB7Rq4wjBwJJaltKXxCdzIJK_bVE9kr7kkptADg39-gLXFFsIQ2wwXAiir0HUl7yjy9C9vpRnviQ79NXgD5zUxMOl4MI5V3oVCRwoAnN_I5uIZIG06UnA/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 162px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdO-nfLmZokavT8duzQmscAYB7Rq4wjBwJJaltKXxCdzIJK_bVE9kr7kkptADg39-gLXFFsIQ2wwXAiir0HUl7yjy9C9vpRnviQ79NXgD5zUxMOl4MI5V3oVCRwoAnN_I5uIZIG06UnA/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674624313727984994" border="0" /></a>It is also a relief that Spielberg and Jackson's big creative decision quickly pays off (and no, I don't mean the 3D). <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adventures of Tintin</span> was shot entirely in motion capture, with post-production taking nearly a year to accurately re-create the comics. The technology as employed here is the best it's ever been at capturing people: it is incredibly photorealistic but lacks the eerie, dead-eyed quality of Robert Zemeckis' efforts. As a side point, digital animation has a habit of making characters seem ballooned and bloated, which suits Haddock and the two detectives rather well.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTxoM-Kq3cAss1i3wvWgKu0LuefDkr0vQSc7vRof5TveU5WaUdRc9B3_9rNImB2uGP4bPsxHOhVAIDvYjjcsKSeuJS82U68JbhpWlr3hFOdDrsZVEFw7XmRE3WSxi5S0Kg3fiQOgtafw/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 155px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTxoM-Kq3cAss1i3wvWgKu0LuefDkr0vQSc7vRof5TveU5WaUdRc9B3_9rNImB2uGP4bPsxHOhVAIDvYjjcsKSeuJS82U68JbhpWlr3hFOdDrsZVEFw7XmRE3WSxi5S0Kg3fiQOgtafw/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674624614605813874" border="0" /></a>When <span style="font-style: italic;">War of the Worlds</span> was released in 2005, Terry Gilliam remarked that Spielberg was a man who "makes brilliant scenes but can't make a movie anymore." Regardless of one's views on <span style="font-style: italic;">War of the Worlds</span> (it's better than the original), it is undoubtedly true that the highlights of <span style="font-style: italic;">Tintin</span> are the set-pieces. Of course, set-pieces in and of themselves do not make for a gripping piece of narrative. But to dismiss Spielberg and Jackson's expertise in this area is to do both of them a great disservice.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSM3s38SDnuSx-wtG80YWKOPWPGge5P46VlVhyphenhyphenxRHkRlZVatbS5hlY6nxkvPLvxvExGpVuuyMXOXXW9JEI9R1KipkaRwuxAjlZhLsrpxf109_TiQsTz2JKliQUVmM_5Ter3luV5GWbLxg/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSM3s38SDnuSx-wtG80YWKOPWPGge5P46VlVhyphenhyphenxRHkRlZVatbS5hlY6nxkvPLvxvExGpVuuyMXOXXW9JEI9R1KipkaRwuxAjlZhLsrpxf109_TiQsTz2JKliQUVmM_5Ter3luV5GWbLxg/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674625123523382162" border="0" /></a>The set-pieces in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adventures of Tintin</span> are consistently inventive and exciting. The pirate battle, which is told by Haddock in flashback, finds two ships getting locked by their masts at right angles during a storm; people are running up and down the various riggings with fire, water and gunfire all around them. It kicks all four <span style="font-style: italic;">Pirates of the Caribbean </span>films into a cocked three-cornered hat, and reminds you of the classic pirate and swashbuckling films of old-school Hollywood.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuEGw74bu3KD-wr4M2OX_eqJFWpChrqdWyqa1SbfBnbu1UwqPglLB4jvsasOUAkJRirhnaPVA4xdzWw2rHddXbd3Zxeq24_e5CHDXt3-emQQeW4AoAvkM5TxV9p1KmM-V6YtXQgiJaMQ/s1600/url.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuEGw74bu3KD-wr4M2OX_eqJFWpChrqdWyqa1SbfBnbu1UwqPglLB4jvsasOUAkJRirhnaPVA4xdzWw2rHddXbd3Zxeq24_e5CHDXt3-emQQeW4AoAvkM5TxV9p1KmM-V6YtXQgiJaMQ/s320/url.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674992475199896642" border="0" /></a>Equally spectacular is the city chase, in which the three scrolls containing the location of the treasure change hands on multiple occasions. During this ten-minute sequence, Tintin and Haddock chase the bad guys in a jeep, one of whom has a hawk carrying the scrolls. At one point Tintin's bike breaks in half and he uses the front-wheel as a zipwire to slide down a telegraph line and capture the scrolls. In another moment, he is literally hanging onto the hawk as it fights to stay in the air. While all this is going on, a tank careers into a hotel and starts rolling down a street with the hotel attached. It finally comes to a halt right on the sea front, and the owner comes out and adds another star to its rating - a witty pay-off that could only have come from the man who gave us <span style="font-style: italic;">Indiana Jones</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxnmxsePWgmtT5DDsxqG8tQMAFV_D5IrqcGcCrCpnO0OEesaKPAjhsrD3gxL_rxaIuUvf9UCcV8oXqvS43LeqeIScZX0ubPp7N2zkYSkjHhGxSWGspPu_nTcUZy3Qce8ampKv0LkKgFA/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxnmxsePWgmtT5DDsxqG8tQMAFV_D5IrqcGcCrCpnO0OEesaKPAjhsrD3gxL_rxaIuUvf9UCcV8oXqvS43LeqeIScZX0ubPp7N2zkYSkjHhGxSWGspPu_nTcUZy3Qce8ampKv0LkKgFA/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674625481440927282" border="0" /></a>Set-pieces like this are thrillingly executed, and leave the ten-year-old boy in me screaming "Wow!". But there is a side-effect to all the comparisons with Indy. The more the similarities keep stacking up, the more you wish that Spielberg could have gone back and simply filmed them for real. Most of the stunts I have listed would have looked amazing in real life and could be achieved without much in the way of CGI. Seeing it animated, especially in motion capture, deprives us of that raw physical thrill that we got from Indy, so that while the film as a whole is more exciting than <span style="font-style: italic;">Indy 4</span>, it's a lot less endearing than the original trilogy.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVvqdbrWrL2D0dam8qSA05hKcrICdBJad4kCiri318vc8_KTu60_wHs_RUE64PlUwTPWo2xtceAo89sUdssbiRL8hDI8fXkKmfD1pVT0BHt9-EJ52-w4HHzsoPNm3C_htZh3aKd5RfTA/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVvqdbrWrL2D0dam8qSA05hKcrICdBJad4kCiri318vc8_KTu60_wHs_RUE64PlUwTPWo2xtceAo89sUdssbiRL8hDI8fXkKmfD1pVT0BHt9-EJ52-w4HHzsoPNm3C_htZh3aKd5RfTA/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674625985226465906" border="0" /></a>And it's not just Indy that Spielberg is tipping his fedora to in this film. There are multiple big references to <span style="font-style: italic;">Jaws</span>: the first comes in the shark falling from the ceiling on board the ship, and the second with Tintin's quiff bobbing above water like a shark's fin as he sneaks up on the plane he downed with a pistol. References like this produce knowing laughs and are in a sense reassuring: we are definitely getting Spielberg in proper popcorn mode, whether by choice or through Jackson's gentle persuasion.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9-tr24uLn_voff5CXS8wRWJMjZtDflMHdOxZXRKAnedqFVcv3TfGVkee3LUPMrcAylJX8eAIJbQXeC6ScIBoTaqbXFLLacU9-3njoNCDZgBwnovs_JpdEYbXd6MJyH3wzC78Wli_QKI/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF9-tr24uLn_voff5CXS8wRWJMjZtDflMHdOxZXRKAnedqFVcv3TfGVkee3LUPMrcAylJX8eAIJbQXeC6ScIBoTaqbXFLLacU9-3njoNCDZgBwnovs_JpdEYbXd6MJyH3wzC78Wli_QKI/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674625279794043394" border="0" /></a>More problematic than the Indy resemblances is the story itself. The film combines the narratives of three of the books - <span style="font-style: italic;">The Secret of the Unicorn</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Red Rackham's Treasure</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Crab with the Golden Claws</span>. There is some reasoning behind this, since many of the Tintin stories are quite short and self-contained. This is one reason why the series worked up to a point on TV and especially well on radio (regardless of Andy Serkis' best efforts, Leo McKern remains the definitive Haddock).<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDI4V-vFDlpYEbLLVqzKSs2vJV6VOHZFYX1IgKrTfvh9ZtT2T-dxyREB8UNsnJTrOLvPZdLxiBZroLP_hap2gbsqGPlnELm3k8a8aB8PgW3XG0roWQfU3cHgEIVVit3Wc0N_hL8j0iDc/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDI4V-vFDlpYEbLLVqzKSs2vJV6VOHZFYX1IgKrTfvh9ZtT2T-dxyREB8UNsnJTrOLvPZdLxiBZroLP_hap2gbsqGPlnELm3k8a8aB8PgW3XG0roWQfU3cHgEIVVit3Wc0N_hL8j0iDc/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674624089444558594" border="0" /></a>Despite the assured writing talents of Edgar Wright and Steven Moffatt, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adventures of Tintin</span>'s story is decidedly stodgy. It takes a good twenty minutes for the film to get into gear, not from adjusting to the visuals but from getting used to the massively expository tone. Combining three stories together means that plot points are merged and mashed together awkwardly, causing us to miss out on great moments and characters. There is no room for Professor Calculus, Max Bird or the sunken submarine. Leaving out the latter makes us question why it wasn't enough to do <span style="font-style: italic;">Unicorn </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">Rackham</span> together, turning a two-part story into 90 minutes.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4heyEY2AWSbA8r5WB6QV1B1BgTl3wNSQreHogA-L7VykJ2_VWU1ZKIVYhiEYN6EjT825qhqfg5y4-k6xqWk9IFd1VejB98blnaHPyYcucjaQGyODeRmxwXvSmdzVqaaARnq9ZeVXQKd8/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 216px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4heyEY2AWSbA8r5WB6QV1B1BgTl3wNSQreHogA-L7VykJ2_VWU1ZKIVYhiEYN6EjT825qhqfg5y4-k6xqWk9IFd1VejB98blnaHPyYcucjaQGyODeRmxwXvSmdzVqaaARnq9ZeVXQKd8/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674625020595700866" border="0" /></a>The supporting characters in the film are enjoyable but all a little slim. Thomson and Thompson (Nick Frost and Simon Pegg) are quite funny in all their little scenes, but their limited role in the search for treasure leaves us wondering why they keep turning up at all. Bianca Castafiore, the opera singer whom Haddock despises, only turns up very briefly, and the film almost misses the big gag that she can't actually sing. Worst of all is Snowy: while physically expressive, he doesn't get to 'talk' or impart much of his inner thoughts to the audience. In the absence of a 'talking' Snowy, you need a stronger third character, like Professor Calculus, to complete the triangle.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnWIzUvypKWrtylti6V6Fl9oRpIckBueDWnnc7kzuIaDaTz3q6EkjCS3jSvchsb3gH7zq1sfGdhR-koFqBhmUmlGotQbM_C8-gPOM-XTGo8JRVOpbPsTQfDsFuZR-WgKH-Wee3f8BdEY/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnWIzUvypKWrtylti6V6Fl9oRpIckBueDWnnc7kzuIaDaTz3q6EkjCS3jSvchsb3gH7zq1sfGdhR-koFqBhmUmlGotQbM_C8-gPOM-XTGo8JRVOpbPsTQfDsFuZR-WgKH-Wee3f8BdEY/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674625854285145026" border="0" /></a>There seems to be a trend in modern screenwriting to take a sideways view at stories which are good and hardy enough to be told straight. Even if Disney had been constantly sanitising his vision, Burton's <span style="font-style: italic;">Alice in Wonderland</span> would have been a much better film if it had told the story as it has always been enjoyed. While there is no such possible contempt shown for Hergé, it is something that should be borne in mind for when Jackson comes to direct the sequel.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu_7Jx_f8WwA-jTHieWhH76HSItifdwJtPxXXLkFZkkx9e-ssASFr5Wh6_utfqOiquSBXROLWfwnbtmc4W81StoCkkd3qrkatJr-3kItZS4xaw4OApwOy16sT3yTVxKSd6RgOizohxBY0/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu_7Jx_f8WwA-jTHieWhH76HSItifdwJtPxXXLkFZkkx9e-ssASFr5Wh6_utfqOiquSBXROLWfwnbtmc4W81StoCkkd3qrkatJr-3kItZS4xaw4OApwOy16sT3yTVxKSd6RgOizohxBY0/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674623764125291314" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn </span>is a decent and enjoyable romp, at least when viewed in 2D. Neither Spielberg or Jackson are firing on all cylinders - though the latter's involvement with <span style="font-style: italic;">The Hobbit</span> is as good an excuse as you need. But that said it is more enjoyable than <span style="font-style: italic;">Indy 4</span>, and perhaps the closest that Spielberg has come to matching the spirit of Indy in the last ten years of his career. In the end it's flawed but good fun, and it will be interesting to see where things go from here.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=35stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 75px; height: 15px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/35stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Verdict: Spectacular but narratively stodgy</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-60652066093015968022011-11-13T19:13:00.012+00:002011-11-13T20:48:46.938+00:00FILM REVIEW: What's Eating Gilbert Grape? (1993)<span style="font-weight: bold;">What's Eating Gilbert Grape? (USA, 1993)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Lasse Halstrom</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio, Juliette Lewis, Mary Steenburgen</span><br /><br />If you tried to sum up the career of Lasse Halstrom in one word, that word would be 'harmless'. Since breaking into film in the late-1970s after directing videos for ABBA, Halstrom has delivered a steady stream of consistently harmless fare: films which are sentimental, predictable, cloying but mostly charming, possessing nice colour palettes, quirky performances and a story that you will warm to, often against your will. <span style="font-style: italic;"> What's Eating Gilbert Grape?</span>, like <span style="font-style: italic;">Chocolat </span>after it, is a reasonable if unremarkable drama whose charm eventually manages to overshadow its faults.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQDdtNhtW8YgNa3qX7Je4D0wG8lCkKB33kY99lF2rsxSm3_-ImQ_V6rAJYKkuCWX1qRF1r2kInv0xBbXZwTXjDB1Qh3eRK49vjjqhAIBABCPjy8QA-iRmDMULxIk18kjg6P4zUfEfvhVI/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 254px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQDdtNhtW8YgNa3qX7Je4D0wG8lCkKB33kY99lF2rsxSm3_-ImQ_V6rAJYKkuCWX1qRF1r2kInv0xBbXZwTXjDB1Qh3eRK49vjjqhAIBABCPjy8QA-iRmDMULxIk18kjg6P4zUfEfvhVI/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584313661183538" border="0" /></a>Based on the debut novel by American author Peter Hedges, <span style="font-style: italic;">Gilbert Grape?</span> was the film which put both author and director on the map for American audiences. Despite only breaking even with US crowds, the film won over the awards audience, who later rewarded Halstrom with two Oscars for <span style="font-style: italic;">The Cider House Rules</span>. And whatever flaws or excesses Halstrom's more recent efforts may have, this film shows that when he concentrates he is capable of achieving memorable drama, at least in passing.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5K2PrfwXVHnJneRLjijCLg5sN4MzuBln5Cj6Y-6w4-Gsn-8TWLZaYmozOtIuRLD57O4EFEAeuFeu3xU3c8PYaBbNG8luA2JT-dppMa97lEAdRxMlFHCCA1QSSGJ9uDpv8dZ4b9R-L7_Q/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5K2PrfwXVHnJneRLjijCLg5sN4MzuBln5Cj6Y-6w4-Gsn-8TWLZaYmozOtIuRLD57O4EFEAeuFeu3xU3c8PYaBbNG8luA2JT-dppMa97lEAdRxMlFHCCA1QSSGJ9uDpv8dZ4b9R-L7_Q/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674583842635064546" border="0" /></a>One of the big pulls of <span style="font-style: italic;">Gilbert Grape?</span> is its poetic visuals. Where most indie-spirited films boast washed-out colour palettes in a desperate bid to look hip and arty, this film comes across as artistically rich without feeling like it is trying to be like that. Sven Nykvist, who won Oscars for his work with Ingmar Bergman, gives us a naturalistic blend of the lavish and the worn, blending awkward dialogue scenes with wide shots of sunsets and trees reflected in water. It's like the lovechild of Nick Cassavetes and Peter Greenaway, being equally understated and arresting.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPVY3CW8J36oE3q5XL6elpkjMWuNZxKQW82jE4bxTxNBbgzuNMSL1mEGfJpNh-dFwibgBAtm5Wok6gdGnL77kG1JtSyVuWHVrKAAdd_17zzVhmn2FGcmxM7E7baI8vEwwcgXFk0EsW3I/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 273px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPVY3CW8J36oE3q5XL6elpkjMWuNZxKQW82jE4bxTxNBbgzuNMSL1mEGfJpNh-dFwibgBAtm5Wok6gdGnL77kG1JtSyVuWHVrKAAdd_17zzVhmn2FGcmxM7E7baI8vEwwcgXFk0EsW3I/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584009372879778" border="0" /></a>From a more narrative or thematic point of view, <span style="font-style: italic;">Gilbert Grape?</span> succeeds in capturing the feeling of being trapped in a town which does not inspire or enthral. Gilbert describes life in Endora as "like dancing without music" - it's full of people who have been there forever, but forgotten why they came here in the first place. It's a town in which nothing ever changes: Arnie will keep trying to climb the water tower, the campers will always drive past on the same day, and Gilbert's mother will always be as big as a whale (Gilbert's phrase, not mine).<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirDPz9p97T-eddj44mcvMCsnhrnRuOTGdBb8A5NRf9k5FmbEwSgNlNsbwmjsWfNrzgpdKFwScGGSubMxHmdhdG3lfkw-kCFK7qSq8v_4gCoIoSNP_pO4rEiRin8WsgDrhVfimn7M_RIL4/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirDPz9p97T-eddj44mcvMCsnhrnRuOTGdBb8A5NRf9k5FmbEwSgNlNsbwmjsWfNrzgpdKFwScGGSubMxHmdhdG3lfkw-kCFK7qSq8v_4gCoIoSNP_pO4rEiRin8WsgDrhVfimn7M_RIL4/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584114148219074" border="0" /></a>In particular, the film shows very accurately how such a town can drain young people of their soul. Gilbert is like the protagonist of 'Hotel California' by The Eagles: he can check out any time he likes, but he can never leave. He is stuck in Endora because all of his passion and imagination have been beaten out of him by the burden of his family and the boredom of his life. When Becky asks him to list things that he loves or is excited by, he finds it almost impossible.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbM6PqsBrhdLeYFIn68SLeerWBaCrB01nEVHFzCjbmllu31OvaA1uy9cs3pVQMvzqep6Aq3YAjfEDLTbXiiE4TtZT5Hzm3hjbNFJBFyrLKJt8mfnw75r_qGmyYXgzXGvZOX0IJnhztGgU/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbM6PqsBrhdLeYFIn68SLeerWBaCrB01nEVHFzCjbmllu31OvaA1uy9cs3pVQMvzqep6Aq3YAjfEDLTbXiiE4TtZT5Hzm3hjbNFJBFyrLKJt8mfnw75r_qGmyYXgzXGvZOX0IJnhztGgU/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584410334649250" border="0" /></a>Because so much of <span style="font-style: italic;">Gilbert Grape?</span> is concerned with depicting tedium, it can be hard to get a handle on the story if you're not in the right frame of mind. This is not a Lynchian view of small towns, in which the banalities of dinner table conversations mask deep-rooted, psychopathic horror. There is nothing as terrifying as Frank Booth running around with a nitrous oxide canister, and nothing quite as naively beautiful as Sandy's speech about the robins.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXMBuyajdjYCf2ovYUxycN-Ug5guuUgbPvcwlYhqUSzRQaBcvbOfekI8UPlkKFtUwVLGQucmw2Er7YYxFT7p-G6JTN_ZKhyphenhyphenXXMIfJJCPXL3f1YxEERskanqCKo08-OClW73xIPyHa5TU/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXMBuyajdjYCf2ovYUxycN-Ug5guuUgbPvcwlYhqUSzRQaBcvbOfekI8UPlkKFtUwVLGQucmw2Er7YYxFT7p-G6JTN_ZKhyphenhyphenXXMIfJJCPXL3f1YxEERskanqCKo08-OClW73xIPyHa5TU/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584624008349810" border="0" /></a>The most tense the film ever gets is the scene when Gilbert is called into Ken Carver's office. Carver begins to talk about insurance and "accidents" in a thinly-veiled threatening manner, and we're not sure how much he knows about Gilbert's laid-back affair with his wife. This scene is quickly cut short by a phone call telling him the house is on fire, causing both men to leave both the building and the topic of discussion. This example cements Halstrom's approach with regard to depicting banality: it is not a means to an end, as in Lynch's universe, but solely an end in itself.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuv-3gREOZ6ZNUIt3LS4dL7dAMdN8SarFSVcFQBxaUdqprNSiupc2kn8UkJ0Sl29UW6hD5dcP6YxR1vOYX-Fdc8rkKpJndHOI-LeTGDk7v8vmcD-hz2YaBJNLW44gNaN5hsP9t84yE6qE/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuv-3gREOZ6ZNUIt3LS4dL7dAMdN8SarFSVcFQBxaUdqprNSiupc2kn8UkJ0Sl29UW6hD5dcP6YxR1vOYX-Fdc8rkKpJndHOI-LeTGDk7v8vmcD-hz2YaBJNLW44gNaN5hsP9t84yE6qE/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674583735879474578" border="0" /></a>The film also deserves praise for its depiction of and attitude to disability. The young kids in the film might mock Gilbert's mother for being obese, but Halstrom resists making any kind of moral judgement about her, or playing her condition for laughs in the scene at the police station. And then there is Leonardo DiCaprio, who gives a startling performance as Gilbert's autistic brother Arnie - in the words of Janet Maslin, he's so good that he's difficult to watch. Although DiCaprio was Oscar-nominated, it doesn't fell like an awards-courting performance. Certainly it's not guilty of the cliché of 'Hollywood illness', in which someone can look exceedingly glamorous right up until they snuff it.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSD5nZxUTUAwheHX0n_yhvED9jrqd8wT2GXurVx6yyPrCSG5oDe7dJr6vvQM-41j5WCJznK_4AgyWWPczxi2A2lb4TKsMkCZ5siwQGkwdkLq7S-HZSrJlyO9_WHu1L1RIOnj16XkR3z0/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSD5nZxUTUAwheHX0n_yhvED9jrqd8wT2GXurVx6yyPrCSG5oDe7dJr6vvQM-41j5WCJznK_4AgyWWPczxi2A2lb4TKsMkCZ5siwQGkwdkLq7S-HZSrJlyO9_WHu1L1RIOnj16XkR3z0/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584232905328562" border="0" /></a>The arrival of Juliette Lewis' character brings lustre to Gilbert's life, showing him aspects of himself which he never thought existed. Because Becky is an itinerant child, she has no time for people staying in one place for its own sake, challenging Gilbert's conception of life and eventually persuading him to come with her on the road. Coming from a similar background, she demonstrates that it is possible to be happy in spite of your upbringing, and that with the right amount of self-confidence, life can be worth living wherever you are.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gcExHAtUcmEPkGzVCVBQctJf7XTlPLFaZUj8hLv1nttEcTphNIiqdxCfgZ4uPBl9E5CPCMmbSz3vRTiRzByjgTH1I7M3Ly7lSLyiWjvSdXMvxX4QXvuZwr9gI9lFDoKBZKNlRjVfhgk/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 257px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gcExHAtUcmEPkGzVCVBQctJf7XTlPLFaZUj8hLv1nttEcTphNIiqdxCfgZ4uPBl9E5CPCMmbSz3vRTiRzByjgTH1I7M3Ly7lSLyiWjvSdXMvxX4QXvuZwr9gI9lFDoKBZKNlRjVfhgk/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584510482579634" border="0" /></a>The schmaltzy content of that last paragraph gives you some idea of the tone of <span style="font-style: italic;">Gilbert Grape?</span>. In its quirkier moments the film will send many running for cover, and in some cases it will take a couple of viewings to actually appreciate the film. Lewis' character is airy and free-spirited in that way which is always annoying in movies: rather than constantly uplifting us, she is frequently so wide-eyed and dorky that we find her irritating. She lacks the gripping ethereal quality of Emmanuelle Seigner or the female protagonists in a Terrence Malick film.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspilRb-8u1UKfnGaBoDgWEP3NCS1c5dpfiA_dQpzV9-wPuYSnyF7m6ztC22nG6kQZh0IxYI_TuuVL6ceXb53s25P4RrAaIxxCi6rs_kcKpo0IsRvBOC25MuzKLMvtowe3jr4po0jG3eQ/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspilRb-8u1UKfnGaBoDgWEP3NCS1c5dpfiA_dQpzV9-wPuYSnyF7m6ztC22nG6kQZh0IxYI_TuuVL6ceXb53s25P4RrAaIxxCi6rs_kcKpo0IsRvBOC25MuzKLMvtowe3jr4po0jG3eQ/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584826107993506" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Gilbert Grape?</span> is also desperately predictable. As soon as Lewis walks on screen, pushing her bicycle in her white hat and with bright red lips, you know that she and Gilbert are destined to be together. Neither the awkward romance which springs up between them or the central character development is anything we haven't seen before, even though the film handles it in a perfectly workable manner. Halstrom attempts to defy our expectations in the final act, and succeeds to some extent. But ultimately there are no surprises, as the final reveal turns out to be just a small delay.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqLCMD_XFnNSZ55MFaEEw9gicC15A2vo56B3Hao9R_Zm_uwqT2R8t3TuBt11ePiK_4EJyTgtnM42HBOF66Jmz3Owijx-yF8ZlagVd4yqD4-fS5f1nXdmg-kYpBb4tnT5f_Ka-zR5vqeY/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqLCMD_XFnNSZ55MFaEEw9gicC15A2vo56B3Hao9R_Zm_uwqT2R8t3TuBt11ePiK_4EJyTgtnM42HBOF66Jmz3Owijx-yF8ZlagVd4yqD4-fS5f1nXdmg-kYpBb4tnT5f_Ka-zR5vqeY/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584943902488354" border="0" /></a>Paradoxically for such an earnest and predictable film, the final problem with <span style="font-style: italic;">Gilbert Grape?</span> is that it doesn't really know how to end. The film is 2 hours long and would have benefited from losing about 20 minutes, mostly from its closing section. The final act with Gilbert's mother getting upstairs and dying is drawn out: it gives Halstrom the chance to give us a beautifully-shot burning house, but there isn't anything like the catharsis that there should be in such a situation.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjO618jTybLdFnM7Dy73HX58sHVmalYKqS8SnqeZQv_bQqefeWjZcn09Q9ozR5luES2ZWSvNFOdQ9xkk8wJFLQTG5-LxlQ5thi_fY0yPEU3MqaWcaYG4MTy-Alf7RCOmzX4sVAxkEfBM/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjO618jTybLdFnM7Dy73HX58sHVmalYKqS8SnqeZQv_bQqefeWjZcn09Q9ozR5luES2ZWSvNFOdQ9xkk8wJFLQTG5-LxlQ5thi_fY0yPEU3MqaWcaYG4MTy-Alf7RCOmzX4sVAxkEfBM/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674585045709547090" border="0" /></a>In the end, however, Gilbert Grape? just about cuts the mustard on the strength and charm of the performances. DiCaprio is the stand-out, but his performance wouldn't be half as endearing if it wasn't counterpointed by an understated Johnny Depp. While his performance in <span style="font-style: italic;">Chocolat </span>was something to be swooned over, here he is more distant, awkward and mysterious. Lewis, for all her irritability, is pretty convincing as Becky, and John C. Reilly is an amiable screen presence. This film and his recent work in <span style="font-style: italic;">We Need To Talk About Kevin</span> suggests that he is a solid dramatic actor whose work with Will Ferrell was just a brief bad patch.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8aYuJMTaPn5RecyaWJSda3EqsYC-Tpz9gY-kl3b_uxWJBt2QiibFgEkKQP-kY2PqIy8lHD9Yz487AB8se_dot6hOuikmhdo8nFxTahgisOaw5zpk9Ud7XELnHfwDduiqxzJuDDF7uUg/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8aYuJMTaPn5RecyaWJSda3EqsYC-Tpz9gY-kl3b_uxWJBt2QiibFgEkKQP-kY2PqIy8lHD9Yz487AB8se_dot6hOuikmhdo8nFxTahgisOaw5zpk9Ud7XELnHfwDduiqxzJuDDF7uUg/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674584731986501890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">What's Eating Gilbert Grape? </span>is an unremarkable but perfectly decent indie drama. Like most of Halstrom's work it is quirky and sentimental in a way which will leave a portion of its audience feeling distinctly queasy. But these traits are not as marked here as there are in <span style="font-style: italic;">Dear John</span>, and the charm and believability of the characters is enough to pull things through. To quote Radiohead, it is a case of no alarms and no surprises, which passes the time rather nicely without requiring much thought.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=3stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 80px; height: 16px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/3stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Harmlessly charming</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-36540500135432718482011-11-11T00:20:00.021+00:002011-11-11T00:42:51.167+00:00FILM REVIEW: Ladyhawke (1985)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Ladyhawke (USA, 1985)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Richard Donner</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Matthew Broderick, Rutger Hauer, Michelle Pfeiffer, Leo McKern</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>When it comes to 1980s fantasy, there are three broad categories into which films can fall. There are those like <span style="font-style: italic;">Flesh & Blood</span>, which get the balance between substance and silliness spot on, marrying Machiavellian mercenaries to grin-inducing battle scenes. There are those like <span style="font-style: italic;">Excalibur</span>, which take themselves so seriously that they're fatally dull. And there are those that are totally, utterly, and enjoyably silly - and into that category goes <span style="font-style: italic;">Ladyhawke</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ygHQM-zo_A2U6XvSuqQ4VbSeuqR2yYUpZO-8-AWpRyWuzQWgWp5CtJs-gZp2Ozqi_ZRAFUHGs2yO1-aThlOrS4FkSBz5GWGPsZGczefQq5-VHeQpvV_xmWhUgIvv8mURjz9AAqUFxIA/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ygHQM-zo_A2U6XvSuqQ4VbSeuqR2yYUpZO-8-AWpRyWuzQWgWp5CtJs-gZp2Ozqi_ZRAFUHGs2yO1-aThlOrS4FkSBz5GWGPsZGczefQq5-VHeQpvV_xmWhUgIvv8mURjz9AAqUFxIA/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673531898880268194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Ladyhawke</span> is of historical interest due to its place in Richard Donner's career. The fiasco surrounding <span style="font-style: italic;">Superman II</span>, on which he was replaced mid-shoot by Richard Lester, had thrown Donner's career off-course: he had to watch <span style="font-style: italic;">Superman II </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">III</span> take huge amounts of money while he delivered flops like <span style="font-style: italic;">Inside Movies</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Toy</span>. But either side of this film, he found himself very much in mainstream favour again, first with <span style="font-style: italic;">The Goonies</span> and later with <span style="font-style: italic;">Lethal Weapon</span>. It is interesting that a director whose place in history has been defined by blockbusters (including, of course, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Omen</span>) should be capable of making something so delightfully odd in the midst of two more rounded and confident efforts.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyWTB492NoiW4tIZz0jV1YNtN8XkZnoQESpR19KWMp2UOjSrBHu76OTGJ8nX7bd45FfZVwQeCe3VnJwfIa7j9_I6xQ4mF3B_8atJ7cJvjRjSdTSFExZhPwENaPQuix2TQcv0w4w0L69w/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyWTB492NoiW4tIZz0jV1YNtN8XkZnoQESpR19KWMp2UOjSrBHu76OTGJ8nX7bd45FfZVwQeCe3VnJwfIa7j9_I6xQ4mF3B_8atJ7cJvjRjSdTSFExZhPwENaPQuix2TQcv0w4w0L69w/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673530113855002754" border="0" /></a>Like many 1980s fantasies, there are aspects of <span style="font-style: italic;">Ladyhawke</span> to which time has not been kind. The most obvious of these is Andrew Powell's soundtrack, which was nominated for a Saturn award in 1985 but has since become regarded in some quarters as one of the worst ever composed. After Toto's contributions to <span style="font-style: italic;">Dune</span>, it became more common for pop groups or composers to score films, due to the selling potential of the groups and the relatively cheap cost of synthesised music. But Powell's efforts go just too far even to be enjoyed ironically, with its overproduction and bouncy pop timbre frequently jarring with the quieter moments.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XbP_BONnKLeIdB4AoEf6_gNU2k2lancZesXBhVdFPHHormVkgpkzc0gvlongibCA1WglUuZCMGraWsi5ThNjZ802jt1c4Tu97TPmRASzanjkvIdYHzhei3Gd3Ctt4fdzcwJzgvjuczs/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XbP_BONnKLeIdB4AoEf6_gNU2k2lancZesXBhVdFPHHormVkgpkzc0gvlongibCA1WglUuZCMGraWsi5ThNjZ802jt1c4Tu97TPmRASzanjkvIdYHzhei3Gd3Ctt4fdzcwJzgvjuczs/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673530815453136050" border="0" /></a>The score is one aspect of<span style="font-style: italic;"> Ladyhawke</span> which confirms its inherent silliness, even before we get to the meat of the story. Another such aspect is its visuals, which manage to look lavish and professional while still feeling ropey and cheap. The film is shot by Vittorio Storaro, who famously shot <span style="font-style: italic;">Apocalypse Now</span> - something which is evident in the multitude of blood-red, beautiful sunsets which are central to the plot. But in amongst the terrific scenes of frozen lakes, dark forests and crisp skylines, there are numerous scenes which look like they were filmed in a hurry, treading unintentionally close to <span style="font-style: italic;">Monty Python and the Holy Grail</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjT71pRXi8nkZyLsK7MyKc_cc6k0rXateVzZpQAwXFCZ7DfkX5B6lCvn9Ga_5v99aDAKcP29c2xEMgLmniJUYybIV0t40amJ_T8IDL2ABhdvH9lzqrA4K2KdAlPSrt_7qevuzM00WT0o4/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjT71pRXi8nkZyLsK7MyKc_cc6k0rXateVzZpQAwXFCZ7DfkX5B6lCvn9Ga_5v99aDAKcP29c2xEMgLmniJUYybIV0t40amJ_T8IDL2ABhdvH9lzqrA4K2KdAlPSrt_7qevuzM00WT0o4/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673531650899104722" border="0" /></a>This feeling of cutting corners is reinforced by the paucity of special effects. For a film in which people metamorphose into animals on a daily basis, the special effects of <span style="font-style: italic;">Ladyhawke</span> are coy to say the least. Apart from a few shots where Michelle Pfeiffer's eyes change shape in close-up, all the big transitions happen off-screen; on several occasions Matthew Broderick leaves the room just beforehand, as though the actors had to go off-stage to change costumes. While Donner wouldn't have had access to the CG wizardry we take for granted, there was plenty of scope in the physical effects of the time to achieve something a little more palpable. Only four years earlier Rick Baker produced the definitive werewolf transformation for John Landis, in a film with half of <span style="font-style: italic;">Ladyhawke</span>'s total budget.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BRmn26gk9bNKRpgWVEG_GqjYd-gsb8M_omfs413sn_APhR0wVSpQQKIijX7D_Kpr_Ym9GQhZ8axnJha3BFQ2eRfnZC3rasyIE32cLPUc7HLmaLD4e5krw9HlPKlWy5Roi8I0IjxyEzI/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BRmn26gk9bNKRpgWVEG_GqjYd-gsb8M_omfs413sn_APhR0wVSpQQKIijX7D_Kpr_Ym9GQhZ8axnJha3BFQ2eRfnZC3rasyIE32cLPUc7HLmaLD4e5krw9HlPKlWy5Roi8I0IjxyEzI/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673530911289982594" border="0" /></a>Added to this shortcoming we have a number of plot holes which either confuse or produce unwanted tittering. First there is the problem of clothes: Rutger Hauer and Michelle Pfeiffer keep the same outfits throughout, but there's not much effort to keep the clothes together when one of the pair is in animal form. Then there is the question of memory. The film borrows the horror device of the person having no memory of what they did as a beast - so how come the hawk remembers to stay with her master, or the wolf not to eat his mistress? Finally, there are several blatant continuity errors. We are told that Pfeiffer appears as an eagle whenever it is daylight, and yet there are at least two scenes where it's daylight and yet she is still there. At least when <span style="font-style: italic;">Shrek</span> half-inched the plot, it was consistent throughout.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCXHksKr3yxXH0MidsDkWgTO5n4zzy9zLu21iMemiDTh_rWr8LJpw1ZyasMVP2h-rbHEJpgdJC7FEwmW8H4NsFbjnrG7kBPdd9ApCGWHLWB5k5BDpAPLpzI07EomEhwa-wBEbF57QEGmg/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 283px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCXHksKr3yxXH0MidsDkWgTO5n4zzy9zLu21iMemiDTh_rWr8LJpw1ZyasMVP2h-rbHEJpgdJC7FEwmW8H4NsFbjnrG7kBPdd9ApCGWHLWB5k5BDpAPLpzI07EomEhwa-wBEbF57QEGmg/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673530609600563778" border="0" /></a>But in spite of these problems, <span style="font-style: italic;">Ladyhawke</span> is a consistently entertaining little romp. Like <span style="font-style: italic;">Logan's Run</span> nine years earlier, it's only when you stop trying to take it seriously that its ideas and emotional impact bubble to the surface. And like <span style="font-style: italic;">Logan's Run</span>, this transition is cemented via a dominant performance by a great actor - not Peter Ustinov, but Leo McKern.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQjTTQyx7X1J1LzdAQ3LHIIwu_MhHye9b24SfOFuMiRB2W0EYndwmFq7TIm_BXCAiGfiLyBdybGDzEYZwGCd0R-Y5e1mEzOKG11QtybdD4cDRCEK6d7BQ20H8PmgrYsZc9T0XCBJi4RU/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQjTTQyx7X1J1LzdAQ3LHIIwu_MhHye9b24SfOFuMiRB2W0EYndwmFq7TIm_BXCAiGfiLyBdybGDzEYZwGCd0R-Y5e1mEzOKG11QtybdD4cDRCEK6d7BQ20H8PmgrYsZc9T0XCBJi4RU/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673531266585048402" border="0" /></a>Most famous for playing Horace Rumpole in the long-running TV series <span style="font-style: italic;"> Rumpole of the Bailey</span>, McKern had courted cult status at various points in his career: as veteran reporter Bill McGuire in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Day The Earth Caught Fire</span>, as a recurring Number 2 in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Prisoner</span>, and in his previous outing with Donner as a mad archaeologist in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Omen</span>. But whereas that last appearance was a silly cameo in an otherwise seriously creepy film, here McKern brings weight and gumption to an otherwise facile concoction. Like Ustinov before him, he puts a brake on excessive silliness, if only for a moment, in order to steer the viewer towards the emotional heart of the film.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_GIJM6q5mPGC2Ts-qaE7-DoKRQPs-wpaGcad64HblzHIrj-3dPqzAPdVuyDU9A48FL7JhVC1NHgxnwjNfJDTiqeHZ7A0IRq3e0CO0wrlVmjFAuSwmx-etqpJ8CIgH3tzX5ZlWvsCHck/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_GIJM6q5mPGC2Ts-qaE7-DoKRQPs-wpaGcad64HblzHIrj-3dPqzAPdVuyDU9A48FL7JhVC1NHgxnwjNfJDTiqeHZ7A0IRq3e0CO0wrlVmjFAuSwmx-etqpJ8CIgH3tzX5ZlWvsCHck/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673531386116589650" border="0" /></a>Not only is McKern's delivery well-suited to disguising exposition, but he illuminates some cracking lines in the script. Most of the wisecracks go to Broderick, who is on very fine form; his soliloquys with God about telling the truth and resisting temptation are guaranteed to raise a smile. But McKern's timing is note-perfect, as he waits for a knight to fall right through the drawbridge before quipping: "Always walk on the left side!". Best of all comes when Broderick brings him the hawk after it has been wounded by an arrow. Having been told that he can't eat it, McKern bellows: "What? Is it Lent again already?!"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoZqFPBFQv9ECpDVW9qPcwcx6p8wLfhpPZ2_PZExtmB9rB-aLvDqA9iP7oSz8oHKAwd0wDjYEKWwWMIEuoSkUnwn2RIKnEVYzekwvKri8ZjegsM2E71NTJj2hIkxAZydTohAp-cSCA78/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoZqFPBFQv9ECpDVW9qPcwcx6p8wLfhpPZ2_PZExtmB9rB-aLvDqA9iP7oSz8oHKAwd0wDjYEKWwWMIEuoSkUnwn2RIKnEVYzekwvKri8ZjegsM2E71NTJj2hIkxAZydTohAp-cSCA78/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673530733301906434" border="0" /></a>While McKern's performance is the icing on the cake, the other major players are also firing on all cylinders. Rutger Hauer seems naturally suited to the historical romp, whether as a heroic figure here or as an antihero in <span style="font-style: italic;">Flesh & Blood</span>. His typically brilliant screen presence, being equally charming and threatening, suits the personality of Navarre as a knight tormented by the woman he loves but cannot have. And while Michelle Pfeiffer's hair may be straight out of a pop video, she too fits her character very nicely. Her beauty conveys both the innate sense of mystery about Isabeau and the vulnerability of her predicament. She's so convincing, in fact, that you keep recognising her facial features in those of the hawk.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3mta-ZFGiktKehoo4ESCt5odNJOI-5f_k5QAFoyxCv9tX1CzASm8EDH5xws65E2CrZtEZ6HK9cARr4ZHyTXUa_7BWkgeMkFpfmiJqqR5oKo-GiHyVsxCR83Skq2BEivbYzNZ7htyZ_Q/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3mta-ZFGiktKehoo4ESCt5odNJOI-5f_k5QAFoyxCv9tX1CzASm8EDH5xws65E2CrZtEZ6HK9cARr4ZHyTXUa_7BWkgeMkFpfmiJqqR5oKo-GiHyVsxCR83Skq2BEivbYzNZ7htyZ_Q/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673530232364893618" border="0" /></a>Having these two charismatic performances goes some way in making the romance at the heart of the film feel believable. Somehow the grandiosity of the setting gives the relationship more weight, making it feel like there is more at stake than with similarly inseparable lovers in more mainstream rom-coms. The story is an interesting variation on the age-old tale of two people destined to be together but cursed to be apart, and for all the ridiculous elements within the central conceit it does end up pulling you in.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgVlS5KnDCdhh_rmyaH0wBbHrz-hVhkutrYb_pDmbEh6-5Yu_gpZo9pt6FDGqLdOuVczuEF5nRZ2lj1gB8pJHumHaJ1w0q4bSWSO2xNYksD2VLjTgpqsYF6wt5-hsZYnb-NpoQzzJibQ/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgVlS5KnDCdhh_rmyaH0wBbHrz-hVhkutrYb_pDmbEh6-5Yu_gpZo9pt6FDGqLdOuVczuEF5nRZ2lj1gB8pJHumHaJ1w0q4bSWSO2xNYksD2VLjTgpqsYF6wt5-hsZYnb-NpoQzzJibQ/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673531108110332066" border="0" /></a>This emotional pull is most evident in two scenes towards the end. The first occurs when Philippe finds Navarre lying next to Isabeau as a wolf. The sun begins to rise, Isabeau begins to change, and for a split second both see each other with human eyes. Navarre reaches out to touch Isabeau, only for her to change and fly away, leaving him beating the earth in frustrated rage. The other comes during the solar eclipse where the two are reunited and the curse is broken. The slow pacing and distance between them prior to their first real contact reinforces the strength of the bond between them.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKm54xARzb8u19BqXQ-8awCFd8h2en9hdsLQG1TfimOCDg-NKNfqxp1M0iZvfj27sattN5_GuB9W44R9g7Y6n1C5SFv4LJ1tRuDb7mNZ0QukY_o27UzNI9rLrv5nHQdmpuBKOIpBk8T3Q/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKm54xARzb8u19BqXQ-8awCFd8h2en9hdsLQG1TfimOCDg-NKNfqxp1M0iZvfj27sattN5_GuB9W44R9g7Y6n1C5SFv4LJ1tRuDb7mNZ0QukY_o27UzNI9rLrv5nHQdmpuBKOIpBk8T3Q/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673532049044970946" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Ladyhawke</span> also has its fair share of good action. Considering Donner's bad feelings towards Richard Lester (who can blame him?), it is ironic that his action sequences, in this film at least, take after Lester's finest work in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Three</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Four Musketeers</span>. The fight scenes have some pretty inventive slapstick and Broderick doing all manner of acrobatics, while Hauer gets to swashbuckle and head-butt to his heart's content. The highlight comes in the climactic fight in the church, ending with Hauer throwing his huge sword over several yards right into the heart of John Wood's scenery-chewing Bishop.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPG4c3QIJTKmPDMJJEZIHuhR6vgbag9gUn8HmIaIqc_nfoYECKNqxSgs_GWYPW-nhzfr_d7RZBNiPEK39eaB7e47V2wmNns2Z7VbuCmd8RqaI9xNS4KNlcv6Nk7-sPh2sjgtWhkSPWiVM/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPG4c3QIJTKmPDMJJEZIHuhR6vgbag9gUn8HmIaIqc_nfoYECKNqxSgs_GWYPW-nhzfr_d7RZBNiPEK39eaB7e47V2wmNns2Z7VbuCmd8RqaI9xNS4KNlcv6Nk7-sPh2sjgtWhkSPWiVM/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673530015510575346" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Ladyhawke</span> may not have aged as well as <span style="font-style: italic;">Flesh & Blood</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Legend</span>, but it remains a definite guilty pleasure and a bona fide cult film. Its flaws are all in plain sight - the soundtrack, the silly plot, the special effects - and yet none of them can completely eclipse the sheer enjoyment that it brings. If anything these flaws serve to make it more endearing, and more fun than mainstream fare like <span style="font-style: italic;">Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves</span>. Donner would make more consistent features after this, but for pure and simple fun it takes some beating.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=35stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/35stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Silly but sublimely entertaining<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-35141721560606484872011-11-07T21:05:00.014+00:002011-11-07T22:48:08.065+00:00FILM REVIEW: We Need To Talk About Kevin (2011)<span style="font-weight: bold;">We Need To Talk About Kevin (UK/ USA, 2011)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Lynne Ramsay</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Tilda Swinton, John C. Reilly, Ezra Miller, Jasper Newell</span><br /><br />Fate has a funny way of producing amazing success out of apparent failure. For the best part of two years, director Lynne Ramsay struggled to bring <span style="font-style: italic;">The Lovely Bones</span> to the silver screen. She relinquished the project in 2004 and contemplated giving up filmmaking, while The Lovely Bones eventually emerged in a heavily flawed version helmed by Peter Jackson. But without being unfair to either director, this failure was almost certainly a good thing. Otherwise, we wouldn't need to talk about <span style="font-style: italic;">Kevin</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtHM2Ct05JlIDYQdySgoi-qsVjHJcRrGqmug2VO5A0mtBJR-GUT_pcK8nHTHgUVdiGQX8BZ3PESevWCITy74PMRBcqecJw9hWW4b6Z7L3GHsrBBEnL9i9TYWNvc-RcHayzCwKX93qA7c/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtHM2Ct05JlIDYQdySgoi-qsVjHJcRrGqmug2VO5A0mtBJR-GUT_pcK8nHTHgUVdiGQX8BZ3PESevWCITy74PMRBcqecJw9hWW4b6Z7L3GHsrBBEnL9i9TYWNvc-RcHayzCwKX93qA7c/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672387156351053618" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">We Need To Talk About Kevin </span>is Ramsay's first film in nearly nine years, and is without any conceivable doubt the best film of the year. It's an astonishing, bold and haunting work which is both evocative and emotionally draining, combining a fragmented, nightmarish narrative with expressionistic visuals to create an intoxicating experience. Its unique and frightening vision of the world will chill you to the bone and remain with you for a very, very long time.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qmEyXUa3zBDgtIte2-0HN04SAzbGFZuG2BuaOGGnkLYAotyXA6aj0zBnGYIIQFoGQsPqdWJjrgU2CT5tU41gUOvOYFsJwhYzgnvJ9vptMGM3Bbb9XsTEFs5FWfzNJ_lix_4Yavc3WZA/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qmEyXUa3zBDgtIte2-0HN04SAzbGFZuG2BuaOGGnkLYAotyXA6aj0zBnGYIIQFoGQsPqdWJjrgU2CT5tU41gUOvOYFsJwhYzgnvJ9vptMGM3Bbb9XsTEFs5FWfzNJ_lix_4Yavc3WZA/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672388132276008018" border="0" /></a>Regardless of its other merits (and there are many), the film is a flawless adaptation of Lionel Shriver's novel. Ramsay doesn't fall into the trap of many bestseller adaptations, which simply arrange the pages in a literalistic order, shoot what they contain and hope that the performances will somehow hold it together. Instead she takes the book's fragmented confessional structure and transforms it, allowing the story to move between events fifteen years apart without any feeling of directorial imposition or incoherence.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoKp-VEZsjsCiqqUuauFfFjVdW_WGVlHLu0dGBPj9gy2GJZTqvgFkaq_TgypdbV3Uo5OzkClFJF_FuDEcTNf_qyeQVh3AfKGWm2TP9DJe1XdBm1FCFPVLzLPVi4sXRKkyG26Xw2diZcs/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoKp-VEZsjsCiqqUuauFfFjVdW_WGVlHLu0dGBPj9gy2GJZTqvgFkaq_TgypdbV3Uo5OzkClFJF_FuDEcTNf_qyeQVh3AfKGWm2TP9DJe1XdBm1FCFPVLzLPVi4sXRKkyG26Xw2diZcs/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672386774152623810" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">We Need To Talk About Kevin </span>finds Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton at her terrifying best) looking back over her relationship with her first-born son, struggling to understand how and why he ended up massacring his classmates with a bow and arrow. Their story is told expressionistically, with imagery, colours and sounds being employed to connect Eva's memories. We are never spoon-fed any easy answers about where blame or cause may lie, or whether Eva's intense guilt is justified. The experience is draining in the best possible sense: we follow every glance and sound intensely, feverishly looking for some kind of meaning in all the horror we encounter.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8NFq3SzfHR9aaWNI2MBaCsR1fWUxUNg7ZDjfcb-OeqhoUUjWkEdblDcZrWnAkeQwt46V4ZgSbNnJT96TDvxIIw-FbazQgLopAnBWJZofvtIphtD4jUhY10D5LeoGvBK8gDl0V5DleFkk/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8NFq3SzfHR9aaWNI2MBaCsR1fWUxUNg7ZDjfcb-OeqhoUUjWkEdblDcZrWnAkeQwt46V4ZgSbNnJT96TDvxIIw-FbazQgLopAnBWJZofvtIphtD4jUhY10D5LeoGvBK8gDl0V5DleFkk/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672387762504046322" border="0" /></a>Purely on a narrative level, <span style="font-style: italic;">We Need to Talk About Kevin</span> is an extraordinary representation of how memory works. It is on a par with <span style="font-style: italic;">Memento</span> in its refusal to allow plot to get in the way of story, or mechanics to override emotions. The internal logic of Kevin is present in its powerful colour palette: the film begins with Eva being drenched in tomatoes at La Tomatina in Spain, which foreshadows the gruesome massacre that Kevin will wreak upon his innocent and unsuspecting classmates. But like Christopher Nolan's later works, like <span style="font-style: italic;">Inception</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Prestige</span>, feeling lost or deeply confused is as thrilling as having it all worked out.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhER44i5WlnjlQVEDsIZ4fj4njuic_xS2I12ZddxEE9Jg6hXBVi9nZvNOsGh4oLPexOdtVsTLv1gJlFRGDhIV4lfXueJkdgN6D8l_38HpXO8r94T7esQErEIEd5_WGItQk0XwAYiZf48sU/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhER44i5WlnjlQVEDsIZ4fj4njuic_xS2I12ZddxEE9Jg6hXBVi9nZvNOsGh4oLPexOdtVsTLv1gJlFRGDhIV4lfXueJkdgN6D8l_38HpXO8r94T7esQErEIEd5_WGItQk0XwAYiZf48sU/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672388742058198658" border="0" /></a>Outside of Nolan's mental and narrative acrobatics, the film to which Kevin sits closest is <span style="font-style: italic;">Inland Empire</span>, David Lynch's most recent and perhaps most esoteric work. Both films feature female protagonists who are dragged deeper and deeper into a dark world from which there is seemingly no escape, and in which the power of their imaginations are as great an enemy as whatever physical evil may be waiting for them. Eva's guilt, shame, negligence and suppressed despair are a powerful cocktail which produce moments of both earth-shattering horror and painful beauty.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaETMwjxtqdKGvr2LYkzJ_t0PsYbI3SrtPUDC0rjU1dmqptqXfN_XY9h6yO5ZKadVKRpVSaVemnV1WnyvOK-D9MzgwWlSj5vzieSW5hfYN5NxRO7r8fEg_XVNfcLCO3syIDlXHeKYGzI/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaETMwjxtqdKGvr2LYkzJ_t0PsYbI3SrtPUDC0rjU1dmqptqXfN_XY9h6yO5ZKadVKRpVSaVemnV1WnyvOK-D9MzgwWlSj5vzieSW5hfYN5NxRO7r8fEg_XVNfcLCO3syIDlXHeKYGzI/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672388595139278050" border="0" /></a>The other comparison between Ramsay and Lynch is in the disorientating use of sound. The soundtrack to <span style="font-style: italic;">Kevin</span> is by Johnny Greenwood, who previously scored <span style="font-style: italic;">There Will Be Blood</span>, and here he continues his fascination with the intrusive quality of music. Where <span style="font-style: italic;">There Will Be Blood</span> featured burbling eruptions and groaning ironwork (akin to Alan Splet's work on <span style="font-style: italic;">Eraserhead</span>), <span style="font-style: italic;">Kevin</span> is populated with background noises being amplified in a way which is fantastically unsettling.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRu5DjIQOuKdXAVfAVBdHYqZ0yQtEYhJcHWqW594t9ZJySQ6PfMptRrssDxVYcd1mCjo0lb3LosGjeDi1Q09BaeRFPFz62fMVJEBawmtYN0drL5b9PKCqHIw7M5OcLlhkks9YX2kkLlc/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRu5DjIQOuKdXAVfAVBdHYqZ0yQtEYhJcHWqW594t9ZJySQ6PfMptRrssDxVYcd1mCjo0lb3LosGjeDi1Q09BaeRFPFz62fMVJEBawmtYN0drL5b9PKCqHIw7M5OcLlhkks9YX2kkLlc/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672389115615928194" border="0" /></a>The film's exploration of memory and trauma is not confined to the evocative nature of colour and composition. Ramsay's sound design is magnificent, turning ordinary background noise into a source of threat and menace. Kevin's constant screaming as a young child leaves Eva and us with a heightened sense of the world around us. We hear a lawnmower, or a sanding tool, or even rain falling, as if there were a woodpecker hammering away in each ear.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVUgyFF8U-gxfhBqmR7xXRzQVkzCtdFYtt3RBp27N28NtLlNcMWpdTTcN3bgblKJFMyze9F6CgExmJiunedpIfHjnjMhvJIsMesazmtpVdFjEodIjTCXRLvHaXQDoj3dv1Mu106BcgNU/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVUgyFF8U-gxfhBqmR7xXRzQVkzCtdFYtt3RBp27N28NtLlNcMWpdTTcN3bgblKJFMyze9F6CgExmJiunedpIfHjnjMhvJIsMesazmtpVdFjEodIjTCXRLvHaXQDoj3dv1Mu106BcgNU/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672387324244065826" border="0" /></a>In one memorable moment, Eva parks Kevin's pram by a pneumatic drill in the road, going to desperate lengths to drown out her child's complaining. We are on constant alert throughout the film, and every sound, especially from Kevin, feels like a vicious attack. But as well as being aware of such attacks, Eva appears to have grown numb because of them: it's difficult to say whether she simply no longer cares about what Kevin does, or whether she is too tired to fight. Perhaps she invites in the noise of the world around her to help her forget the problem she has borne.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-bqhABxnu-2zJMARQmfYnz6dvt28q73qxR6s_KpNwIkvXJ_Q2c6z_Qz3G3hpxMEqSlsh8CG0sKicFlwzHIshqsg7Lae_ey-R4YJ3LOs6r3wx4-b0aM39ap9dnRwm20vWsTMoQjnvqFDg/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-bqhABxnu-2zJMARQmfYnz6dvt28q73qxR6s_KpNwIkvXJ_Q2c6z_Qz3G3hpxMEqSlsh8CG0sKicFlwzHIshqsg7Lae_ey-R4YJ3LOs6r3wx4-b0aM39ap9dnRwm20vWsTMoQjnvqFDg/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672389265146196018" border="0" /></a>The film is an intelligent, nuanced and multi-layered approach to the nature of evil, asking many questions to which there are no satisfying answers. It's redundant to single any one out as the 'issue' of the film, because they are all interconnected and there is no sugary pay-off that you would find in more Oscar-baiting work. The film is almost structured as a thriller, in which we are charged with gathering all the evidence and offering our verdict as to what happened and why. But the evidence is so conflicted, ambiguous and speculative that it will take many viewings and much discussion to settle on even a workable version of events and motives.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDa6T6QddccvCqZ_LQrFZ0t1SZNN-wJe9JN7aWWvcI5YmPc5rKXXqv7gHRDVWxFRCPg77HWwcM9LiyLWuLHe0QZIi5S4FxSS3iFsrBKooEs8yGINmWMcqb2xrXSKmtPG-TkDy7Vz_5Fsw/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDa6T6QddccvCqZ_LQrFZ0t1SZNN-wJe9JN7aWWvcI5YmPc5rKXXqv7gHRDVWxFRCPg77HWwcM9LiyLWuLHe0QZIi5S4FxSS3iFsrBKooEs8yGINmWMcqb2xrXSKmtPG-TkDy7Vz_5Fsw/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672386874589240706" border="0" /></a>One of the questions which Kevin raises is whether evil is something which is innate, or whether it is a product of one's upbringing. Eva is far from a natural mother, seemingly incapable of dealing with Kevin and harbouring bitterness at him for ruining her life and career. But both of the actors who play Kevin (Jasper Newell and Ezra Miller) have a disturbing charisma and intelligence: they are smarter than Eva and Franklin, seeing through their every word and deed, and having no time for emotions unless they serve their interests.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2akxoXmvo7M1ejSN8GcVjZoVBcE3o5qBEanOBs0AchkqO5xa6_ukjKNDsU9osuFbxtQzXKHlZ3pAZhNb-Wq11LQ0rQJeAQu_YCWgilqpLYSuFcxv6WsBrIaGTJQjcG_O2AmyWGj5pqhg/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2akxoXmvo7M1ejSN8GcVjZoVBcE3o5qBEanOBs0AchkqO5xa6_ukjKNDsU9osuFbxtQzXKHlZ3pAZhNb-Wq11LQ0rQJeAQu_YCWgilqpLYSuFcxv6WsBrIaGTJQjcG_O2AmyWGj5pqhg/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672388952710912338" border="0" /></a>From this arises the question of who is to blame for everything. Is Kevin guilty because he is inherently evil, a sociopath who exists to provide entertainment for the empty-headed morons that are called his equals? Is it Eva, for not standing up to him? Is it Franklin for ignoring Eva's warnings, laughing off her perhaps irrational ravings with comments like "that's just what boys do"? Or perhaps it is a wider social problem: Kevin speaks about the voyeuristic nature of modern society, in which people on TV are filmed watching TV, and in which what is left of entertainment comes from acts of shocking, shattering horror like those that he will perpetrate.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dt2WXGDIcykZlGs-IPX6u1_KppVRC0Q97Jx_lm1aodpqPl6HH2sn3Mj4_RUGBE3r6pHmhDNaGytzR0a0nudmlhuQZ9C4Yu4RuWA2XOlAOKKAWoMHHe429T8flOHvYipSqhVXsdb41Ys/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dt2WXGDIcykZlGs-IPX6u1_KppVRC0Q97Jx_lm1aodpqPl6HH2sn3Mj4_RUGBE3r6pHmhDNaGytzR0a0nudmlhuQZ9C4Yu4RuWA2XOlAOKKAWoMHHe429T8flOHvYipSqhVXsdb41Ys/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672387905048647042" border="0" /></a>Finally, there is the role of emotions to consider. It is possible to accept, up to a point, that Eva never really loved Kevin: that she held him responsible for ruining her chances of happiness, and soon got tired of playing mother, knowing full well that there was no point. But equally there is evidence of Kevin's emotional side underneath his dark veneer. We might accept that he is a sociopath, someone who cannot process human emotion and revels in causing pain to others. But in the final scene in the prison, he is openly afraid, a sign that he is still a child who craves affection. This is a significant if pyrrhic victory for Eva in a story of shame and sorrow, and the ending with her walking into piercing white light would seem to leave things on a balance between optimism and stark pathos.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI5GUFh6YAZ7617QsyEvEBocHuR0yDO1jdsP1pxDdhqAbD1ewvkCBcNMydt6hmONSWaQXHOohM_wHH4Oh_qc5PWQbdVKm3wGYRqs-rYnSEqY_v2M_cCfyP8MLOI4ZuzunRIGsbrQ-DZWA/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI5GUFh6YAZ7617QsyEvEBocHuR0yDO1jdsP1pxDdhqAbD1ewvkCBcNMydt6hmONSWaQXHOohM_wHH4Oh_qc5PWQbdVKm3wGYRqs-rYnSEqY_v2M_cCfyP8MLOI4ZuzunRIGsbrQ-DZWA/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672388034430303938" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">We Need To Talk About Kevin</span> is the film of the year and Lynne Ramsay's best work to date. It is a shocking, haunting, deeply unnerving masterpiece with a bold artistic vision, every bit as striking and earth-shattering as the best works of David Lynch. If we get another film as good as this in the decade, let alone the year, all the dross which passes in between can easily be forgiven. It is a staggering achievement on all fronts, and nothing short of essential viewing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=5stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 90px; height: 18px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/5stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Verdict: Film of the year</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-5401673138084155372011-11-02T22:17:00.015+00:002011-11-04T00:39:02.319+00:00FILM REVIEW: Battleship Potemkin (1925)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Battleship Potemkin (USSR, 1925)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Sergei Eisenstein</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Aleksandr Antonov, Vladimir Barsky, Grigori Aleksandrov, Ivan Bobrov</span><br /><br />When assessing any classic film, one has a duty to point out any flaws or shortcomings even while accepting whatever historical significance the film holds. While it's pointless to criticise an old film without knowledge of its artistic, social and technological context (in other words, what could and couldn't be done at the time), it's every bit as asinine to go all rose-tinted and claim that someone has great worth purely because of its age.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHeM9pEBBuEqdXffuejmeN8eGurkPV4L_IqZRpX9h5xsTyi4FNXK0XAQdwAkRZJbk5hlkGuX3QkskBODrPouzTI6i7QWCHcvJsWgPtJKgFwOuU2C9pQGPsHBHFPTLwF60BbqQFfH_D2k/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 257px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHeM9pEBBuEqdXffuejmeN8eGurkPV4L_IqZRpX9h5xsTyi4FNXK0XAQdwAkRZJbk5hlkGuX3QkskBODrPouzTI6i7QWCHcvJsWgPtJKgFwOuU2C9pQGPsHBHFPTLwF60BbqQFfH_D2k/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670931611510058946" border="0" /></a>We might admire silent films as a genre, but that does not mean that every silent film is up to the standard of <span style="font-style: italic;">The General</span>. We might acknowledge the contribution that <span style="font-style: italic;">The Birth of a Nation</span> made to the art of editing, but that does not excuse its inherent racism. Likewise, it is possible to admire <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin</span> for its advances in the art of montage and for its spectacular set-pieces. But admiration of either aspect is not enough to excuse its overwrought tone, poor storytelling and its abject failure as a piece of propaganda.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1qxXKHwC5ERYxTSui-Ir_w3jhwzfDuYxTE2LX5nZ3q0e0TosA_ey_HM-9YRbbzKX6MkikGDFV9C35mwUVsxZomK_qHE01f8fFjQm4vYtE9EQ9W9NgCc2boHq4LO9axhiJofCS6Z4LjI/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1qxXKHwC5ERYxTSui-Ir_w3jhwzfDuYxTE2LX5nZ3q0e0TosA_ey_HM-9YRbbzKX6MkikGDFV9C35mwUVsxZomK_qHE01f8fFjQm4vYtE9EQ9W9NgCc2boHq4LO9axhiJofCS6Z4LjI/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670930646043850882" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">B</span><span style="font-style: italic;">attleship Potemkin </span>could be called the high point of Sergei Eisenstein's first career. Prior to falling out with Joseph Stalin in the late-1920s, the eccentric Soviet filmmaker had won the favour of the Communist Party with his first feature <span style="font-style: italic;">Strike</span>, an episodic recreation of a 1903 strike at a Russian factory. As part of his theory of montage, Eisenstein intercut scenes of factory workers being suppressed with footage of cattle being slaughtered, using unrelated images to generate an emotional response. The film impressed Stalin and Eisenstein was commissioned by the Party to make <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin</span> as a follow-up.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7_wet5KYPw6o_ZEF1jkUhmGDsx9ho4ZU0cErZBvGAZNOeK6jcTnGTbfeyj9HPvN_1V1ZRdhBcxiAjoZ4xy7Y24jPnpak-hc4VNFWRMPmenIdTMjJ9xsSMcvWCt2hxoLaZA33BWbZMSg/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7_wet5KYPw6o_ZEF1jkUhmGDsx9ho4ZU0cErZBvGAZNOeK6jcTnGTbfeyj9HPvN_1V1ZRdhBcxiAjoZ4xy7Y24jPnpak-hc4VNFWRMPmenIdTMjJ9xsSMcvWCt2hxoLaZA33BWbZMSg/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670932114562574450" border="0" /></a>Both <span style="font-style: italic;">Strike</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin</span> use a past event in pre-Soviet Russia to illuminate the class struggle of the present. Bolshevism, and the Marxism upon which it was based, rested on the principle that history is based upon struggles between the workers and the bourgeoisie, with the former eventually leading a revolution to overthrow the latter and create a society based upon equality and communal ownership (a rank generalisation, but for these purposes it will suffice). By invoking examples of revolts or struggles which occurred before the Bolsheviks swept to power, Eisenstein would instil in people the idea that they were part of a greater struggle, and that liberty was now within their grasp.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jtVzajGKi1-URhzs1ttKzZNrvlR4p03W-L-94LCtou_r9FUQfh4_scs6NfUlA7rS6Jyg6lrdk9UEk5o4yXgVg3RukK2YFjKuISvgqImu8QP5ni0Eye_fEPcGyjF8IVwLMd5H802kedA/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jtVzajGKi1-URhzs1ttKzZNrvlR4p03W-L-94LCtou_r9FUQfh4_scs6NfUlA7rS6Jyg6lrdk9UEk5o4yXgVg3RukK2YFjKuISvgqImu8QP5ni0Eye_fEPcGyjF8IVwLMd5H802kedA/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670933562612419698" border="0" /></a>There is no denying that <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin</span> deserves credit and admiration on a technical level. While the age and variable quality of surviving prints makes it difficult to judge Eisenstein's visuals, the use of montage has never been replicated to quite the same effect in any other film. We tend to think of montage as an editing technique to denote the passage of time - cutting together scenes of, say, a couple together in various poses or locations to show how long they have been together.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewtBBwETQZ1sYLb7OUBkwQ204AG541hyphenhyphenNhbEWxYhCVhSx6gS2HOrBkkZpOMs-7GrPZvCH9EHSOoQEFHaHJXlj8jqJ5iqZsDR79lGvyPr-Xu-tfK2tIjkm4W7TT7TGEzUR_sShTceCUpI/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewtBBwETQZ1sYLb7OUBkwQ204AG541hyphenhyphenNhbEWxYhCVhSx6gS2HOrBkkZpOMs-7GrPZvCH9EHSOoQEFHaHJXlj8jqJ5iqZsDR79lGvyPr-Xu-tfK2tIjkm4W7TT7TGEzUR_sShTceCUpI/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670931351698450946" border="0" /></a>Eisenstein's montage, on the other hand, is driven by emotional response: shots of people are intercut in such a way as to provoke a reaction from the crowd. One example of this comes early on, when the crew are arguing about being served maggot-ridden meat. Eisenstein intercuts gruesome shots of the meat with the sailors' faces, to reinforce their degraded state. While the direct practice of Russian montage has been virtually non-existent since the 1950s, Eisenstein's work represents a huge step forward in the language of editing: his use of cutting to convey emotion is as radical as D. W. Griffith's use of panning shots to show battles on a huge scale in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Birth of a Nation</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQn4WlunzgQiv6Wwmav1xAVSySSu75sBqOEOkzp_m7_rNh5wvEp2lNlrhMO1o8J3kqK_-4HVzkpmsfjL5RRcvu9dwFFRkmkhjuqsSS89gEi57EZKZ0U8n4juMCK6_YADVqjXxWPO9WJY/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQn4WlunzgQiv6Wwmav1xAVSySSu75sBqOEOkzp_m7_rNh5wvEp2lNlrhMO1o8J3kqK_-4HVzkpmsfjL5RRcvu9dwFFRkmkhjuqsSS89gEi57EZKZ0U8n4juMCK6_YADVqjXxWPO9WJY/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670930966991124130" border="0" /></a>There are also several moments in <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin </span>which are exciting, or at least impressive. The Odessa Steps sequence, depicting a bloody but completely fictitious massacre, has entered the canon of all-time great scenes, and remains without question the best part of the film. The shot of the pram running down the eponymous steps was famously parodied in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Untouchables</span>, which was itself parodied in the third <span style="font-style: italic;">Naked Gun</span> film seven years later. But the scene is also memorable for its shocking moments, from the sight of a young boy being shot to the silent scream of a woman with shattered spectacles, an image which Francis Bacon used as the basis for several of his paintings.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLOmRUgw-9q1qmBE9Ds_UcAQC7gDD0h-L_O6lpZ0eTDNtQD53pycpz6pO-p_yr2GM3S8BoJ-UTVtj717JEmkIWe5QozCC4pe3SZ67EkStv87FidOelnnMq4mdr3NP5kcCqrSAS99dGMM/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 304px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLOmRUgw-9q1qmBE9Ds_UcAQC7gDD0h-L_O6lpZ0eTDNtQD53pycpz6pO-p_yr2GM3S8BoJ-UTVtj717JEmkIWe5QozCC4pe3SZ67EkStv87FidOelnnMq4mdr3NP5kcCqrSAS99dGMM/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670930867850064690" border="0" /></a>So far, then, <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin </span>would seem to be as much of a classic as it has been revered to be. But once we get beyond admiring its technical achievements, or experiencing brief shock at the violent moments, or gaining some small understanding of the context in which it was made, what we are left with is a lot more underwhelming and poorly constructed than its reputation would lead us to believe. Its flaws are not enough to completely turn our hearts, but all the admiration in the world can't make up for them.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsalWymoCZk4X2vX4kc1X67G24jxxjZtCE2ORP5OLfGz7uQzX-tRGUXrSvz5Qgd4gpyevZIdD6_rNu8qSQlqBufCvoQHKWMrqKwTxQDT48eLRhDOX-lheZnk1XXfiVLoZIr8XqirhkKQ4/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsalWymoCZk4X2vX4kc1X67G24jxxjZtCE2ORP5OLfGz7uQzX-tRGUXrSvz5Qgd4gpyevZIdD6_rNu8qSQlqBufCvoQHKWMrqKwTxQDT48eLRhDOX-lheZnk1XXfiVLoZIr8XqirhkKQ4/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670932297784717282" border="0" /></a>For starters, the film is thinly written and poorly paced. Silent films relied primarily on physical expression to tell their stories and flesh out characters, since having actors mouth long speeches intercut with lengthy inter-titles would not be dramatically engaging. By using exaggerated movement and meticulous facial expression, the likes of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin were able to convey in a second what the talkies would need a whole minute to say. This gave silent films an in-built modesty and efficiency, so that when they did run longer than an hour (or two, as <span style="font-style: italic;">Metropolis</span> did), they usually earned the right to do so.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7sZbVvh8PiAYwE6fWIU-ycIHdg87gNE8xeopK2AzerXHfprLP_Lp-aakWyuyqsJuFRae_sRo2l1_jseSZCMcg1Hc2-qO0N6h6Xbsf_Ws6MFRi7VmasNhScaDKitaj_R5R7FkYOSJCn4/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7sZbVvh8PiAYwE6fWIU-ycIHdg87gNE8xeopK2AzerXHfprLP_Lp-aakWyuyqsJuFRae_sRo2l1_jseSZCMcg1Hc2-qO0N6h6Xbsf_Ws6MFRi7VmasNhScaDKitaj_R5R7FkYOSJCn4/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670932747968752978" border="0" /></a>Even at 74 minutes, <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin</span> is about three times longer than it needs to be to serve such a simple story. Eisenstein's use of montage may generate a certain amount of emotion, but it has the side effect of dragging out the action long after the point has been made, and made, and made again. Compared to later propaganda works like Triumph of the Will, the point the film makes about class unity and power is insultingly simple, even to an audience who were potentially illiterate and therefore couldn't read inter-titles.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigb6o5wk03w0Bhm5w5gUInRqHNRBmekbiCc6m6f-pfPOJU4wV8bxx8_GV6khhKvcm17U8Ngd2oDggcqv8QbZx9lh4EFavLs0fN08mWsFm2Dcud_NRvFV8qF8Km5bbaBsEEJw_BGbYdHS0/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigb6o5wk03w0Bhm5w5gUInRqHNRBmekbiCc6m6f-pfPOJU4wV8bxx8_GV6khhKvcm17U8Ngd2oDggcqv8QbZx9lh4EFavLs0fN08mWsFm2Dcud_NRvFV8qF8Km5bbaBsEEJw_BGbYdHS0/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670932618124088754" border="0" /></a>While Eisenstein may have the subtlety of a hammer, he lacks the sharp edge of a sickle. There's no point trying to assess <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin</span> in terms of characters, because the point of Soviet propaganda was to instil collective identity and prioritise class unity over the satisfaction of individual wants and needs. Complaining that there is no discernible protagonist, or that the only charismatic character is killed off after 20 minutes, is nothing more than a reflection of our own film discourse; we expect things to be a certain way because we have been taught that that is the only way.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-FUloio45Xwg_Npm3NI8yyCl14jmteHX8EyW7O7VJAL-ExSGHQiFoLPlxo08L0aAnRMKLb8g03msZa-CZ5C5YE7VvXMTd3I05w0-EK60rK_9m_HMcFNWykr9412jvv9Ln8sDiHvA7TA/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 252px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-FUloio45Xwg_Npm3NI8yyCl14jmteHX8EyW7O7VJAL-ExSGHQiFoLPlxo08L0aAnRMKLb8g03msZa-CZ5C5YE7VvXMTd3I05w0-EK60rK_9m_HMcFNWykr9412jvv9Ln8sDiHvA7TA/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670933402980152450" border="0" /></a>Even if we accept this, however, the film is massively overwrought and narratively fanciful. Because this is a propaganda film, it's a waste of time trying to separate fact from fiction, because everything has been dressed up both in the language of Eisenstein's editing and the political views it takes. But even with that level of acceptance, it is frankly ridiculous to believe that the whole fleet would refuse to fire on the <span style="font-style: italic;">Potemkin</span> having been impressed by their bravery. Not only is it a huge anti-climax, it's so out of the blue and illogical that it threatens to undo whatever hard work Eisenstein had done up to that point.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlfLmQrpxuKvAPmPXq35GbkZnftgl4imaC0OL_SmwL1dNHQjw2eAnbWFFN5MEKtcvVu1nkJvtjXzgi69NC4gURBEzR10bhXj9Yk3p8dbaL1a7VXwF1BzGzvTCoh2XloPZik9qWSClD_w/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 257px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlfLmQrpxuKvAPmPXq35GbkZnftgl4imaC0OL_SmwL1dNHQjw2eAnbWFFN5MEKtcvVu1nkJvtjXzgi69NC4gURBEzR10bhXj9Yk3p8dbaL1a7VXwF1BzGzvTCoh2XloPZik9qWSClD_w/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670932440166873426" border="0" /></a>Worst of all, <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin</span> fails because it does not cut the mustard as propaganda: it does not do what is says on the tin. Just as all good comedies should make you laugh, and all good horror movies should scare you, so a properly made propaganda film should draw you into the story or ideas so that you are convinced by them, even if only for the moment when the film is playing.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaNlWdZB6mgM00W2y-GJy2RhyphenhyphenuqchZehViGO4scp3lCsz0vTwacobDZ6N7uzcoXmam-_qdSYmFrHn7qnmM3xmOF531y6ge8yuWWo5bdGEY9w8SXKb0FKYghmcmvYizJM-8DeF3TTaxqU/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaNlWdZB6mgM00W2y-GJy2RhyphenhyphenuqchZehViGO4scp3lCsz0vTwacobDZ6N7uzcoXmam-_qdSYmFrHn7qnmM3xmOF531y6ge8yuWWo5bdGEY9w8SXKb0FKYghmcmvYizJM-8DeF3TTaxqU/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670931146557562946" border="0" /></a>Propaganda films are the exception to the rule that you cannot judge a film by its box office. <span style="font-style: italic;">Triumph of the Will </span>worked because it appealed to ordinary men and women, many of whom didn't vote for the Nazis in the first place: it was a hit because, to quote Leni Riefenstahl, it "impressed an audience which was not necessarily interested in politics". <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin</span>, which had all the distribution you could ask for, failed to become a popular hit. This is not because punters in the 1920s were stupid: it is because the film preaches to the converted. The Party's message had become so saturated in popular art and culture that there was no need for anyone in the Soviet Union to see it.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qWL46Wrj7liZ19TxkYZZxsUy44BYQWAAPpoe30TKZUB4xriM_0PbkucN_Vm2bqMtT3E6g4EvoZe5qUa2sNJb4oJdZ57gbal5w9y3zds6RfcPEDPXNzh79G5VBN_HFvgrZpIqn5y4xgM/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 151px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qWL46Wrj7liZ19TxkYZZxsUy44BYQWAAPpoe30TKZUB4xriM_0PbkucN_Vm2bqMtT3E6g4EvoZe5qUa2sNJb4oJdZ57gbal5w9y3zds6RfcPEDPXNzh79G5VBN_HFvgrZpIqn5y4xgM/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670930056106359954" border="0" /></a>Time has not been kind to <span style="font-style: italic;">Battleship Potemkin</span>. Certainly the decision of the Brussels World's Fair to name it the greatest film ever in 1958 looks every bit as foolish as the Academy's decision to give the Best Film Oscar to <span style="font-style: italic;">How Green Was My Valley</span> over <span style="font-style: italic;">Citizen Kane</span>. Its innovations in editing and structure still stand, and as an historical artefact it retains some degree of importance. But otherwise there is precious little to celebrate about it, falling short on an emotional level of both Griffith and Riefenstahl.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=2stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 75px; height: 15px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/2stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Overwrought and overrated<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-12965794364044366682011-10-31T00:33:00.013+00:002011-12-10T17:39:38.110+00:00FILM REVIEW: Love Like Poison (2011)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Love Like Poison (France, 2011)<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directed by </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Katell Quillévéré</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Clara Augarde, Lio, Michel Galabru, Stefano Cassetti</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br />For all the doom and gloom around sequels, prequels, reboots and remakes, 2011 has also been a year of striking debut features. Adding to <span style="font-style: italic;">The Guard</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Sarah's Key</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Oranges and Sunshine</span>, we now have <span style="font-style: italic;">Love Like Poison</span> from French-Ivorian director Katell Quillévéré. What appears on the surface to be just another coming-of-age story slowly reveals itself as a subtle, haunting and emotionally charged look at religion, sexuality and adolescence.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp8pFjy6l54s7jUBOmDBYfSQXYRPyft-RcQAGh_YVMQsm0NGHr-TL5LDT6uoKA7pM1xK7tTX-h-XnaV4dYDF6xN9IO7MCPza1Hb6LmkB4pGqX7iNOOKyWmOA1Dj_ZJHvhGXPl8K0ylUc/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp8pFjy6l54s7jUBOmDBYfSQXYRPyft-RcQAGh_YVMQsm0NGHr-TL5LDT6uoKA7pM1xK7tTX-h-XnaV4dYDF6xN9IO7MCPza1Hb6LmkB4pGqX7iNOOKyWmOA1Dj_ZJHvhGXPl8K0ylUc/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669789250947004130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Love Like Poison</span> is set in the Brittany countryside and follows a 14-year-old girl called Anna Falguères (Clara Augarde) as she prepares to take Catholic communion for the very first time. Her mother and father are recently estranged, and the former increasingly seeks comfort in the company of local priest Père François (Stefano Cassetti). Both women are left to care for Anna's bedridden grandfather, who spends his days listening to old records and smoking cigars. While all this is going on, Anna is being wooed by Pierre, a boy younger than her who loves his football and loves her even more.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPXNfvUvXmI3Zun43QydSE6i7g9VoR69jFtDGnWBQgNFQPrskp4c2Hla_53-5rX0M49kQLk4WTo66H1vQKFfulmo_momu9zyoZEaV9JRazjdPYOxhSOyhg9TZZ4V25ctLsnDUOkZljFA/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPXNfvUvXmI3Zun43QydSE6i7g9VoR69jFtDGnWBQgNFQPrskp4c2Hla_53-5rX0M49kQLk4WTo66H1vQKFfulmo_momu9zyoZEaV9JRazjdPYOxhSOyhg9TZZ4V25ctLsnDUOkZljFA/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669790405225401826" border="0" /></a>The first real asset of <span style="font-style: italic;">Love Like Poison</span> is its strong colour palette. Tom Harari's cinematography is melancholic and beautiful, resting on a prominence of blues and in particular whites. The white is not intrusive like the shimmering walls of a hospital, but pale, wan and pure like the chalk cliffs of the French and English coasts. Sometimes it is so bright that it drowns out the characters, like the yardsticks of purity to which they must aspire, knowing full well that their desires will cause them to fall short. In one scene where Père François lies praying in his bed, his black clothes fade into the dark blue covers, like he is sinking or even drowning in the gathering darkness.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8gPQGsWzcrMv59VTd80QXiysLi3LTZ1xWW6lmuL3OvCwAJnE7x6CIgrz2cSWEKDIPmWRE41c8xq5lJBDp4MVSAiRs9PwgInI9Cpw_fI_Zv7sq7jbOYIf2kQbPD21t_9At67wVr626LEo/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8gPQGsWzcrMv59VTd80QXiysLi3LTZ1xWW6lmuL3OvCwAJnE7x6CIgrz2cSWEKDIPmWRE41c8xq5lJBDp4MVSAiRs9PwgInI9Cpw_fI_Zv7sq7jbOYIf2kQbPD21t_9At67wVr626LEo/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669790228731058642" border="0" /></a>In its evocative and symbolic use of colour, the film draws an immediate comparison with <span style="font-style: italic;">Three Colours - Blue</span>. The visual similarities are clear, with both Krzysztof Kieslowski and Quillévéré using different shades of blue to emphasise the sadness, grief and alienation which surrounds the central characters. And there is a narrative similarity in that one of the central characters has lost her husband, and is finding it hard to connect with the world around her. But whereas Kieslowski took a very humanist perspective, focussing on the hidden reserve of Juliette Binoche's character, Quillévéré is more concerned with the conflict between three kinds of devotion - to God, to one's family, and to the passion of young love. It takes more of a religious angle, albeit one in which religion does not come up with all of the answers.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_sOg8i6XeDYFETvM1HA_FcJpdaoyN2SPX_8KQg_7RTCzAeFZtjGqjOwt5wvkJtehpcRzQhzmX0r4B-xADfvwkohwuwD9lSDrb9MoNyNcfTW7F6k_EieAtmh6cbvcMhKYEFYx44yGAE8/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_sOg8i6XeDYFETvM1HA_FcJpdaoyN2SPX_8KQg_7RTCzAeFZtjGqjOwt5wvkJtehpcRzQhzmX0r4B-xADfvwkohwuwD9lSDrb9MoNyNcfTW7F6k_EieAtmh6cbvcMhKYEFYx44yGAE8/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669789467674951826" border="0" /></a>The central character in <span style="font-style: italic;">Love Like Poison</span> faces three different but related dilemmas as she moves to take her first step into adulthood. The first concerns her attitude towards religion and the church. Anna's faith at the beginning of the film seems well-rooted and taken for granted: she keeps a picture of Christ at her bedside, and attends church with her family, of her own will as much as out of ritual. But by the end of the film this has grown lukewarm, as she faints in front of the Bishop and remains silent when he asks questions to the congregation, asking them to affirm their faith. There has not been a decisive volte-face on Anna's part, but doubts have entered her life which makes an outright committal impossible.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-w9b1WYFyjnAQzLdBu4AKTJn0R99vJuUVje7Tbh6bbOx9kn7IkbdquHzjEkJ0XPbH-pzn4BZymiLCFyRXdTGXSRgkAKdcmS4YYso9t_dNphNY5q2dIhh10JRXOKxd1Z-qNud4U7lI430/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-w9b1WYFyjnAQzLdBu4AKTJn0R99vJuUVje7Tbh6bbOx9kn7IkbdquHzjEkJ0XPbH-pzn4BZymiLCFyRXdTGXSRgkAKdcmS4YYso9t_dNphNY5q2dIhh10JRXOKxd1Z-qNud4U7lI430/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669790291453175490" border="0" /></a>The second dilemma concerns Anna's attitude towards her family. There are a number of awkward conversations between Anna and her mother as her confirmation approaches. Anna asks her mother about what she looked like at her age, and gets an inconclusive answer. Later her mother comes into the bathroom as she is topless, saying that she wants to look at her; Anna unfolds her arms to reveal her bare breasts and snipes sarcastically: "Do I turn you on?" Anna has to care for her mother for much of the film, and is determined not to end up like her, looking upon her relationship with Père François with some suspicion.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2HaRXAVKYYYuPYt6Z3EwWntTZhkVupgs7UD6LCNbXfrIyZjnH1I7ZxhHhDKZgIQTg_fqZ8wzrQYoGJHCqPGDPdR5Cezc4Q9bNRTVXwH8-34ovRRLoubETXOoj8O-atKfRmy9SGP2xq9c/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2HaRXAVKYYYuPYt6Z3EwWntTZhkVupgs7UD6LCNbXfrIyZjnH1I7ZxhHhDKZgIQTg_fqZ8wzrQYoGJHCqPGDPdR5Cezc4Q9bNRTVXwH8-34ovRRLoubETXOoj8O-atKfRmy9SGP2xq9c/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669789393271137986" border="0" /></a>In her effort to avoid turning into her mother, Anna turns towards the affections of her estranged father. When he first returns home to deal with the death of Anna's grandfather, he seems to genuinely want to bond with her, taking her to the beach and talking about coming to live with him in Quimper. But as the action moves on the distance between them re-emerges: he leaves without a moment's notice to return to his new life, leaving Anna angry and alone.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj15rZgMvDFU1ZttjUtEtEGzLWJDqEkPTLdPCAY9W2oZDhzAu6FGnUu6EO17gRWOJJblK-MGbzlPQGvKw2LWRjAeT76CrBVQ7r0w6N9bG-fGDHZBUYvYF7CmQmxMfrjxMOTGV0XvSdIdMg/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 157px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj15rZgMvDFU1ZttjUtEtEGzLWJDqEkPTLdPCAY9W2oZDhzAu6FGnUu6EO17gRWOJJblK-MGbzlPQGvKw2LWRjAeT76CrBVQ7r0w6N9bG-fGDHZBUYvYF7CmQmxMfrjxMOTGV0XvSdIdMg/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669789883711048674" border="0" /></a>This encounter leads onto the third of Anna's dilemmas, namely her relationship with and attitude towards men. Her grandfather is dismissed as harmless but becomes pervy as the film rolls on, fantasising over a magazine and getting turned on by Anna washing him. Both her father and the priest come across as well-meaning but ultimately incompetent, or at least too at odds with their own desires to be of any real use. Pierre, on the other hand, begins very aggressively, pinning her down on the rock to kiss her when they are out in the woods. But by the time they take their tops off they are on equal terms, and when Anna kisses Pierre in his room, she seems to have come into her own.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCC8lhsA43Y-3Qf-NN9dcK1SovRv1f0sEWgWZbx4IzDOCIJ_ETvODR3-m08JdgUNKxK5J7jTooGSMQZ-gFwGRKVbmx4iivBkg7rx_9SqELAjfs04lIWhPciex8jKMPZlgmJk7B3ihGKrM/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCC8lhsA43Y-3Qf-NN9dcK1SovRv1f0sEWgWZbx4IzDOCIJ_ETvODR3-m08JdgUNKxK5J7jTooGSMQZ-gFwGRKVbmx4iivBkg7rx_9SqELAjfs04lIWhPciex8jKMPZlgmJk7B3ihGKrM/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669789747012846642" border="0" /></a>What makes <span style="font-style: italic;">Love Like Poison</span> interesting as a coming-of-age film is that the struggles of the central character don't feel isolated, like some weird disease which only affects young people. The adults in the film have the same concerns and qualms with regard to religion and relationships, and there are no convenient plot devices to tone these down. Where American coming-of-age films tend to portray the step into adulthood as something with a definite endpoint, with the lines between child and adult clearly drawn, the characters in<span style="font-style: italic;"> Love Like Poison </span>are still walking the treacherous emotional path that Anna has just begun to explore.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Qy3RlwOXLiAtagoTtb-N-W4h9mtHlCEwm8oPKM5gV4o_NgV3kgmk-JRIb2Q86Xveepxt2HVRPx48Cc6t7RJT-bkkIaXSPOfN1Min1mKBX_C0JQKIr2sZlLX0hcy0ZVktG5B80HwlmE0/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Qy3RlwOXLiAtagoTtb-N-W4h9mtHlCEwm8oPKM5gV4o_NgV3kgmk-JRIb2Q86Xveepxt2HVRPx48Cc6t7RJT-bkkIaXSPOfN1Min1mKBX_C0JQKIr2sZlLX0hcy0ZVktG5B80HwlmE0/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669790085240260658" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Love Like Poison</span> is a deeply atmospheric film. Beyond its visual claustrophobia, its use of sound and music in particular is haunting and thought-provoking. In one early scene, when Anna wanders through the ruins to meet the priest, a version of 'Greensleeves' can be heard. This folk tune, erroneously attributed to Henry VIII as a love song to Anne Boleyn, has strong sexual connotations: "green gown" was a euphemism for prostitute, since such garments would disguise any grass stains caused by outdoor lovemaking.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwpzQUNHfQsEPlDqbpsdnjuIR4ivwRDTLMj87tKT5YagwEKv_oHjh9ilPeA69YHaKg0J-TcOVEDMYY7I5xkP7P62MoDmz8AyqGL5wdbyQ8dfkI_TKsasgMLvB4tlzlIYadopcLDsWHao/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwpzQUNHfQsEPlDqbpsdnjuIR4ivwRDTLMj87tKT5YagwEKv_oHjh9ilPeA69YHaKg0J-TcOVEDMYY7I5xkP7P62MoDmz8AyqGL5wdbyQ8dfkI_TKsasgMLvB4tlzlIYadopcLDsWHao/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669789999842027810" border="0" /></a>Over the end credits, where Anna seems to have found some kind of uneasy peace with Pierre, there is a choral version of Radiohead's 'Creep', previously used on trailers for <span style="font-style: italic;">The Social Network</span>. Although the effect is not as powerful as in Fincher's film, it cements the tone of unease and eeriness which lifts the film while keeping the air close and thick with rumour. Like <span style="font-style: italic;">Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Love Like Poison</span> is a film in which on the surface nothing is happening, but in fact there is so much going on.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Erqip-cyulLO0nJg8k8QY307e33zcQ4PNW1fhYi5UjICN1IMIWNUFs1ZAUv51Z1ek9FKkuUwKb7V-EF1clTf5L-iwsONuIadyjpcDpRCcNg-HEv3FWctH6JxHHlSMwrXYZRMAAJsDy8/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 287px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Erqip-cyulLO0nJg8k8QY307e33zcQ4PNW1fhYi5UjICN1IMIWNUFs1ZAUv51Z1ek9FKkuUwKb7V-EF1clTf5L-iwsONuIadyjpcDpRCcNg-HEv3FWctH6JxHHlSMwrXYZRMAAJsDy8/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669789657999496754" border="0" /></a>There are a couple of flaws with the film which stop it totally achieving a knock-out punch. Apart from some standard quibbles over paucity of plot and occasionally languorous pacing, the main concern is over the amount of nudity. For the most part the film handles the matter sensitively, if not poetically; while it doesn't shy away from nudity as a concept or rite of passage, it doesn't by and large see this as an excuse for ill-judged gratuity. But while the woodland scenes are well-judged by showing hardly anything, the sight of the old man's erection is disgusting, even when it's in his trousers, and when Anna lifts her dress to show him her womanhood, it feels totally unnecessary to both plot and mood.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS7BuvGqBIn6FBpp5aDFIE_gA2iJNXku6TBBGChcB9LXlQ36TAg6Mh6jyFuvFWL7KMBGFJF6p8LhzxvZg16vW7s9XMkEh-PfuqtvOeyowLi3lGwhs87KYKg07HMdjtRhzQIxlIp0i40_Y/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS7BuvGqBIn6FBpp5aDFIE_gA2iJNXku6TBBGChcB9LXlQ36TAg6Mh6jyFuvFWL7KMBGFJF6p8LhzxvZg16vW7s9XMkEh-PfuqtvOeyowLi3lGwhs87KYKg07HMdjtRhzQIxlIp0i40_Y/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669789586324723250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Love Like Poison</span> is a very promising debut effort which both avoids the clichés of coming-of-age stories and does just about enough to cover up its own flaws. Katell Quillévéré directs with finesse and sensitivity, creating an atmosphere of great unease and a host of complex characters, anchored by Clara Augarde's great central performance. You will want to spend some time afterwards trying to work out where you stand with regard to the people on screen, especially over Anna's state of mind in the denouement. While not perfect, it contains much to be admired, along with a great deal that will linger.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rating: </span><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=4stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 80px; height: 16px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/4stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Verdict: A striking and haunting debut<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-16168083685103095752011-10-28T23:38:00.020+01:002011-10-29T09:58:21.356+01:00FILM REVIEW: The Ninth Gate (1999)<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Ninth Gate (France/ Spain/ USA, 1999)</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directed by Roman Polanski</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Johnny Depp, Lena Olin , Frank Langella, Emmanuelle Seigner</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br />With the notable exception of <span style="font-style: italic;">Se7en</span>, numerical horror-thrillers are utter rubbish. With their ridiculous twists, over-the-top acting and an overreliance on special effects, they epitomise all that is banal and disappointing about these two genres. You would think that Roman Polanski, the man who gave us <span style="font-style: italic;">Repulsion</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Rosemary's Baby</span>, would be able to handle such well-worn material in at least a workable manner. But instead we end up with a ripe old stinker every bit as disappointing as <span style="font-style: italic;">Prince of Darkness</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6UNu3zEwbC17OeD3nA5i_2sbAREwAV8TEAlatY489Hru92wu58_tHVtgX50lmEZr6uKRJ7G6RrB2c3O_vWzrJjfWB41wOxn1KUiR67_qFKJnoxA15QGa2FkRoQGrXuvv3sqHELW81_A/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6UNu3zEwbC17OeD3nA5i_2sbAREwAV8TEAlatY489Hru92wu58_tHVtgX50lmEZr6uKRJ7G6RrB2c3O_vWzrJjfWB41wOxn1KUiR67_qFKJnoxA15QGa2FkRoQGrXuvv3sqHELW81_A/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668833940734956802" border="0" /></a>Polanski has always been a fan of absurdist, quirky comedy, being greatly influenced by France's crown prince of absurdity, Eugene Ionesco. While absurdity in and of itself is no bad thing, Polanski has always been at his best when this aspect of his sensibility has been minimised, or at least properly accommodated. You have to admire him for being able to switch between bleak, serious works like <span style="font-style: italic;">Tess</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Pianist</span>, and something more fun and frothy like<span style="font-style: italic;"> Frantic</span>. But his out-and-out exercises in comedy have dated very badly, with <span style="font-style: italic;">What? </span>being the worst example.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00jXfqTFwCdzEVNlWsCXj-jRUvEgQxYBI-VFN96g9qLzZESliCUSJYBXb8quFOzH8nPX2pu4F_DeU76xLDifjTx5ZQiDYOyoAqxEJ2Om9Dcw_uj7yjU77FdHyQ-0E5WyqJx4oBpbkmOQ/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00jXfqTFwCdzEVNlWsCXj-jRUvEgQxYBI-VFN96g9qLzZESliCUSJYBXb8quFOzH8nPX2pu4F_DeU76xLDifjTx5ZQiDYOyoAqxEJ2Om9Dcw_uj7yjU77FdHyQ-0E5WyqJx4oBpbkmOQ/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668832468285312834" border="0" /></a>Further doubts are raised by Polanski's attitude towards the source material. When interviewed in 1999 he said that he didn't believe in the supernatural - something you would never have guessed from <span style="font-style: italic;">Rosemary's Baby</span>. He was drawn to the novel <span style="font-style: italic;">El Club Dumas</span> by Arturo Pérez-Reverte because it was an opportunity to play with the clichés of a genre that he enjoyed. The consequence is that we aren't sure how seriously Polanski is taking things, and therefore how seriously we should be taking him.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ZWWCCy62WKsCs1ifqxK0Oe8ZiE2K2dlphqsBZ23MBgkGegspBhYyPHaIhNk3a7hhzEGg56Pn2emI8cKi0MZHfK9FzLuzlII23g1Aiw6MixsRWRzn98elCkZhxwQZE_O1E8dg9ctXSAU/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ZWWCCy62WKsCs1ifqxK0Oe8ZiE2K2dlphqsBZ23MBgkGegspBhYyPHaIhNk3a7hhzEGg56Pn2emI8cKi0MZHfK9FzLuzlII23g1Aiw6MixsRWRzn98elCkZhxwQZE_O1E8dg9ctXSAU/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668834134842209922" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Ninth Gate</span> starts off quite atmospherically, with good pacing, dusty books and nice gothic colours. Film noir touches are evident throughout, from the archetype of the downbeat detective (or "book detective" in this case) to the enigmatic women in his life. Like so many noirs or Hitchcock films, the blond is enigmatic but for the most part on the hero's side, while the brunette is seductive and passionate to the point of being pure evil.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kpcb22ZximE7Dp4ebup97OR3h_XUmQr26HVQRzacIQqwmE8VsYY1gOqspoElrRfcSfYbowZ0ffxRgI2AWmHwpgIXhfCezzwjy6s_2Bf-fcL2Cdfi6XQeAczewDs5YoM3WpsmOMX-_bg/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kpcb22ZximE7Dp4ebup97OR3h_XUmQr26HVQRzacIQqwmE8VsYY1gOqspoElrRfcSfYbowZ0ffxRgI2AWmHwpgIXhfCezzwjy6s_2Bf-fcL2Cdfi6XQeAczewDs5YoM3WpsmOMX-_bg/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668833212967259186" border="0" /></a>Having set things up quite nicely in the first ten minutes, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Ninth Gate</span> starts to crumble as more and more ridiculous elements encroach. We might swallow the story about the three copies of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Nine Gates</span>, if only because Frank Langella sounds authoritative as he wades through exposition. But subsequent developments are so clouded or convoluted that we quickly give up trying to figure it all out, insofar as there is anything to figure out. It feels like the sort of thing that Polanski could have done in his sleep - and for much of the film, he might as well have done.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNejfNCNJTjAslRm7zayXEC3yyiWaClstSZtOZQsUaFRg4Bzt67R7-X22GZlkzL7BoCwngvPPgLXUsOrzH4HymRawfeb2mkCpdv778-v2IXQZGrd1SmaFkILMXJO9Mbl-l13qRHaU2Ak/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNejfNCNJTjAslRm7zayXEC3yyiWaClstSZtOZQsUaFRg4Bzt67R7-X22GZlkzL7BoCwngvPPgLXUsOrzH4HymRawfeb2mkCpdv778-v2IXQZGrd1SmaFkILMXJO9Mbl-l13qRHaU2Ak/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668833672645135522" border="0" /></a>All the big plot points in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Ninth Gate</span> can be anticipated because they borrow all too heavily from better genre efforts. Having Dean Corso commissioned to search for <span style="font-style: italic;">The Nine Gates</span> is exactly the same set-up as <span style="font-style: italic;">Angel Heart</span>, but with a book instead of a jazz musician. His infiltration of a secret ceremony is lifted from <span style="font-style: italic;">The Wicker Man</span>, and the mansion scenes strongly resemble <span style="font-style: italic;">Eyes Wide Shut</span>, although this may be coincidental. There are also very standard references to <span style="font-style: italic;">The Omen</span> in the use of 666, for instance, <span style="font-style: italic;">The NINE Gates</span> being published in 1666. There is even a nod to <span style="font-style: italic;">An American Werewolf in London</span>, as Corso arrives at the castle in a truck full of sheep.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoaVQHxaGgyJCvJuICMEV7182UwpPVUEsigm5xqxSI2Gw-DRrjZlV-Vjzmmff8CVPkApvVZdFS3-rrwRyUzR7gZz9LpVddVAHZ9b1gF0mLB-qqoHac14eSc1JDHvtEKObMmNCKn79eKZE/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoaVQHxaGgyJCvJuICMEV7182UwpPVUEsigm5xqxSI2Gw-DRrjZlV-Vjzmmff8CVPkApvVZdFS3-rrwRyUzR7gZz9LpVddVAHZ9b1gF0mLB-qqoHac14eSc1JDHvtEKObMmNCKn79eKZE/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668835208173083170" border="0" /></a>Having given up on taking <span style="font-style: italic;">The Ninth Gate</span> seriously, the next logical step is to try and enjoy it as a comedy, perhaps as an unintentional one. But the comedic elements are so completely at odds with Polanski's execution of the twists that they feel like they have escaped from a different film. The twin brothers, who are played by the same actor via split screen, bumble their way through their lines like a cross between Thomson and Thompson from <span style="font-style: italic;">Tintin</span> and Alf Garnett in <span style="font-style: italic;">Till Death Us Do Part</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8nbPiyXkBnwmzGs_n62QZ0PqX3a8hgOgNiqKI-jJSwS4K2doX06UzWZ_hjeNxjXfMUsyGpzFWaGWAlSY9nvxa4SugPTx55rGcy-0t62j8sk7lXvSdqAb7PEgkGiQDZGZRR84_0gj4Q4/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 151px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8nbPiyXkBnwmzGs_n62QZ0PqX3a8hgOgNiqKI-jJSwS4K2doX06UzWZ_hjeNxjXfMUsyGpzFWaGWAlSY9nvxa4SugPTx55rGcy-0t62j8sk7lXvSdqAb7PEgkGiQDZGZRR84_0gj4Q4/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668833513468960002" border="0" /></a>The silliness of the supporting characters increases as the film moves on. Baroness Kessler, played by Barbara Jefford, is introduced as a formidable character of real threat to Dean Corso - who then slips almost immediately into pantomime villain mode when we discover that she only has one hand. Corso later finds her slumped in her motorised wheelchair having been strangled: he turns the wheelchair around, only for her to go careering through the double doors, like Mason Verger's death in <span style="font-style: italic;">Hannibal </span>two years later.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeR28CI0VzlhyHl3BXsXjJrBpdMeXFTwnmPpfj93QcTqXH6suqknt5J-hlWl5wMsr9ezkN2-BMS0CGtIKp1hLUFzMd7wvG2cIx_f7Jv9uS4fDN_cQJSC6qJ5EtFjYrO1dARSWlNHt9QY4/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeR28CI0VzlhyHl3BXsXjJrBpdMeXFTwnmPpfj93QcTqXH6suqknt5J-hlWl5wMsr9ezkN2-BMS0CGtIKp1hLUFzMd7wvG2cIx_f7Jv9uS4fDN_cQJSC6qJ5EtFjYrO1dARSWlNHt9QY4/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668835655189174162" border="0" /></a>Like many numerical thrillers,<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Ninth Gate</span> suffers from dodgy special effects. It's hardly a dull car crash like <span style="font-style: italic;">End of Days</span>, in which Gabriel Byrne demonstrates his demonic power by blowing everything up, and Arnold Schwarzenegger try to stop him with a grenade launcher. But alongside bad continuity and an unconvincingly burnt book, there are at least two examples of dodgy wire work, in which Emmanuelle Seigner floats down into a scene, without any prior clue that she could fly.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKV5yUnOvixTYOBHdk8bt0ZzmgO_oKXQhiWp26bJhdgwY3ttPj_HfkdFnhtlQrZKTS6minUDsNg2WkOoefLTBKryuzMWlwc7cBJLtPg3-7lt1dUCWnTUn7sFvGmmasUEdI0DjgVeMnARk/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKV5yUnOvixTYOBHdk8bt0ZzmgO_oKXQhiWp26bJhdgwY3ttPj_HfkdFnhtlQrZKTS6minUDsNg2WkOoefLTBKryuzMWlwc7cBJLtPg3-7lt1dUCWnTUn7sFvGmmasUEdI0DjgVeMnARk/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668835076696091986" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Ninth Gate</span> is littered with irritating plot holes which leaving us scratching our heads even in the moments when generic convention could fill in the gaps. There is no explanation of the serpent tattoo on the brunette's back, nor of Boris Balkan's ability to know exactly where Corso is at any one time - which is, conveniently, always within reach of a phone. But more annoying than either of these is Polanski's contempt for the subject matter. It's hard to believe that either Corso or Balkan know or care so much about rare tomes when they treat them so carelessly. They don't bother to handle them with gloves, flip through ancient pages like they were airport paperbacks and carry them around in scruffy bags which get flung everywhere.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwsJn1OgKdn4wC0VFn_V783htKsyRxuJSpW9jvcgHfHxmKnrDQyaut4M0HhyphenhyphenFFAQ8XDzsjoYsbRHHgLWN6kt-mK3rlT09xG0nozGpqi_aWqbs6o-VbhND197hf4AGA4PPnbw1AduUOvQ/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwsJn1OgKdn4wC0VFn_V783htKsyRxuJSpW9jvcgHfHxmKnrDQyaut4M0HhyphenhyphenFFAQ8XDzsjoYsbRHHgLWN6kt-mK3rlT09xG0nozGpqi_aWqbs6o-VbhND197hf4AGA4PPnbw1AduUOvQ/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668834669879345474" border="0" /></a>This care-free attitude spills over into the performances. Johnny Depp had wanted to work with Polanski for some time, but Polanski didn't tell him that he wasn't giving the performance that he wanted - in other words, he was almost completely undirected in the role. To be fair to Depp, he gets the physical stuff right, modelling himself on Raymond Chandler and being more convincing than he is in <span style="font-style: italic;">Secret Window</span>. But otherwise it's pretty phoned-in, with Polanski being unable or unwilling to tease out the greatness that Tim Burton or Terry Gilliam had managed.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEium8-WfzHOwrGTaEJWcd0oaMedEu-kv_IVw1wbuAs-j9p7vYYv7U8JSbl_aUSRhdJSBOqz8QdtgNze6-4FZdB4LFEsOBKtHeWSp5qb60gJwcigAYbLCbu0rRW4RSzUgAWOnBIKUf7l2Cs/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEium8-WfzHOwrGTaEJWcd0oaMedEu-kv_IVw1wbuAs-j9p7vYYv7U8JSbl_aUSRhdJSBOqz8QdtgNze6-4FZdB4LFEsOBKtHeWSp5qb60gJwcigAYbLCbu0rRW4RSzUgAWOnBIKUf7l2Cs/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668835353988069170" border="0" /></a>Frank Langella is no stranger to trashy villains, having played Skeletor in the awful He-Man movie, <span style="font-style: italic;">Masters of the Universe</span>. He does the best with a surprisingly underwritten role, looking a little bit like Michael Redgrave in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Dambusters</span>. Lena Orin has far too little to do beyond flashing her stocking tops in the first half-hour and then dressing up like the actress from Scottish Widows for the satanic ceremony. As for Seigner, she does a good demon stare, but otherwise she's too airy-fairy, wafting through the scenery as if she doesn't really care who she's playing or what she's doing. In any case, it's essentially the same character she plays in <span style="font-style: italic;">Frantic </span>- the quirky outsider who helps the male protagonist, only this time she's the devil as well.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_klUA91ZbCll6SxNvW1HrExUKmNet9PYEj2i7N-tksSdV4sMDVtZIlMwBECFosZ0DiJ3AxbU2BpOM4RrbRB_Via5ct8LXdi3lB-GEcU8NsY9oknZ11wlaipG4VJ6UXgkGqZxcqIGYQk/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 137px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_klUA91ZbCll6SxNvW1HrExUKmNet9PYEj2i7N-tksSdV4sMDVtZIlMwBECFosZ0DiJ3AxbU2BpOM4RrbRB_Via5ct8LXdi3lB-GEcU8NsY9oknZ11wlaipG4VJ6UXgkGqZxcqIGYQk/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668834952593333682" border="0" /></a>The final nail in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Ninth Gate</span>'s coffin comes with its ending, which is hopelessly dragged out and completely incoherent. We get to see Langella self-immolate and fail to pass through the Ninth Gate - but that's not the end. Seigner makes love to Depp against the flames with her demon eyes, the camera zooms in on Depp as if he realises who she is all along, and he seems about to scream - but that's not the end. After the two drive back, and Seigner remarks "is that it?" (to which the answer is "no"), Depp goes back to the bookshop and finds the missing page - but that's not the end. Depp then goes back to the castle and the screen fades to white, in one of the most shambolic and unsatisfying endings in 1990s cinema.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLmsI2lfoawAGXyFDo-LxgkARV8_Jj8k1OQdi3DXUgBBdJgsGubykxTJI9NPhlUQ9vblc1KuxBOuDmUgubwAPvYBXeo_FfC8URF8k4n1teHHFhycGgeH6SA3bQWeNR4Ky2ellHpaXDgU/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 273px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLmsI2lfoawAGXyFDo-LxgkARV8_Jj8k1OQdi3DXUgBBdJgsGubykxTJI9NPhlUQ9vblc1KuxBOuDmUgubwAPvYBXeo_FfC8URF8k4n1teHHFhycGgeH6SA3bQWeNR4Ky2ellHpaXDgU/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668835484140976994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Ninth Gate</span> is an example of what happens when a great director indulges themself to the extent that they no longer feel the need to try. As an exercise in supernatural horror it is every bit as rubbish as<span style="font-style: italic;"> Prince of Darkness</span>: Polanski's film looks better, but Carpenter's was shorter. In attempting to put his stamp on overly familiar elements, Polanski fails to deliver chills, thrills or knowing laughs. Thank God that he redeemed himself beyond all recognition just three short years later.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=1stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 95px; height: 19px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/1stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: One of Polanski's few bad films<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-63354705667296164452011-10-25T00:31:00.014+01:002011-10-25T23:33:47.377+01:00FILM REVIEW: Fire in Babylon (2011)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Fire in Babylon (UK, 2011)</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directed by Stevan Riley</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Clive Lloyd, Viv Richards, Michael Holding, Andy Roberts</span><br /><br />More than any other form of documentary, sports films are often guilty of preaching to the converted. Through a combination of eccentric jargon, cliquey culture, off-putting aggression and economy with the truth, the majority of factual films about sport have no way in for the casual viewer. <span style="font-style: italic;">Fire in Babylon</span> is an exception to this general rule, being a ramshackle but entertaining introduction to the West Indies cricket team of the 1970s and 1980s.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH53GaGE99DzTMUKarXMyy5kvPkbhMUpipbCKnL6PHReLjJ9k0VraDChM4aYVTO2T6pWy_-ZXJaKsErupnyrkid8Y1TrfzPaw-6OCRxkUxlpDMLAmLgqETBAAn5FI5qeiGHNc8Whl4Hmc/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH53GaGE99DzTMUKarXMyy5kvPkbhMUpipbCKnL6PHReLjJ9k0VraDChM4aYVTO2T6pWy_-ZXJaKsErupnyrkid8Y1TrfzPaw-6OCRxkUxlpDMLAmLgqETBAAn5FI5qeiGHNc8Whl4Hmc/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667561143691640690" border="0" /></a>The first success of <span style="font-style: italic;">Fire in Babylon</span> is that it explains the appeal of cricket for West Indians, in a way which draws non-fans slowly but surely into the culture surrounding the game. Early on Michael Holding talks about cricket as the only activity which unites this small group of very different countries. He evokes scenes of young boys playing cricket on Caribbean beaches from the minute school ends until the sun goes down, painting an enticing if overly romantic picture of a sport too often associated with boring middle-aged Englishmen.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rRW9MUnueVkw5F9cvhBWQXZVHLrc41Qf8pbeir2HGtNVm8ZGhBGCD55WyxiZZk5enYZ0Tr_stqyDjhlxJiG_chyphenhyphenLttLU0X1oZvjA2BVK6hu673gVRbV9Kyy9xFrrd9HOYSpjgDqHpmE/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rRW9MUnueVkw5F9cvhBWQXZVHLrc41Qf8pbeir2HGtNVm8ZGhBGCD55WyxiZZk5enYZ0Tr_stqyDjhlxJiG_chyphenhyphenLttLU0X1oZvjA2BVK6hu673gVRbV9Kyy9xFrrd9HOYSpjgDqHpmE/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667560023192282562" border="0" /></a>But this is not a teary-eyed, rose-tinted documentary, extolling the spirit of cricket like characters from P. G. Wodehouse. Holding's comments about the beauty of cricket are immediately contrasted with the harsh political realities in the West Indies and the wider world. Holding and his counterparts were playing at a time when many Caribbean states were ruled by brutal dictators, not to mention the continued existence of apartheid in South Africa and the race-related violence in British cities.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShOwmrcPI7ISyVepKO-trYbDtd9_YzQ7ljV_Zbw-mzv30iwYGS_ZGLXPT3GQqt700VaDeSjSoEFahJTocEaijSBLd_Xb-8bNVdNtYZ9gf3CaJg3HkHARad66HoGGXFqzvp_XpstVEYN0/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShOwmrcPI7ISyVepKO-trYbDtd9_YzQ7ljV_Zbw-mzv30iwYGS_ZGLXPT3GQqt700VaDeSjSoEFahJTocEaijSBLd_Xb-8bNVdNtYZ9gf3CaJg3HkHARad66HoGGXFqzvp_XpstVEYN0/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667561231059823154" border="0" /></a>The film establishes a clear affinity between the West Indies' position as sporting underdogs and the accompanying racial struggle for independence and equality. It explores the persistence of imperialistic attitudes in culture, so that even after formal political independence, people from the Caribbean were still regarded as racially inferior. Where English players were revered as gentlemen, and Australians feared as long as they bowled quickly, West Indians were called "calypso cricketers", clowns who would entertain but always lose. They were the cricketing equivalent of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Black and White Minstrel Show</span>, existing for the snooty pleasure of white men while bringing shame on their own culture.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQAniuPnKQjpqPIE_QgrVtYJGBwqOJSft5LFHKMYAjfdXCsKqeHoVSeKPAvuNmr_4NNNNkhZsQJk3ArHgFbsgN5PiuLWeIbaLQymw2gkYvH2SEDlNIsNTh2z-Qj-QUk-koS7cRqQTCoY/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 272px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQAniuPnKQjpqPIE_QgrVtYJGBwqOJSft5LFHKMYAjfdXCsKqeHoVSeKPAvuNmr_4NNNNkhZsQJk3ArHgFbsgN5PiuLWeIbaLQymw2gkYvH2SEDlNIsNTh2z-Qj-QUk-koS7cRqQTCoY/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667561348760997634" border="0" /></a>Nowhere does this prejudice come more to the fore than with Tony Greig's awful <span style="font-style: italic;">faux pas</span> in the lead-up to the 1976 tour of England. Facing questions about the West Indies following their 5-1 win against Australia the year before, the England captain remarked: "If they're down, they grovel, and I intend with the help of [Brian Close] and a few others to make them grovel." The association of 'grovel' with the slave trade, the persistence of apartheid and the fact that Greig was a white South African turned a simple test series into a battle between historical masters and slaves, with the latter coming out firmly on top.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpRz5xlDgCE8XYEi9ybVnlMnGydAd-eXAY0qt-m9TcwNG9hK9oDWj-4sQQm5PBrqlGEJTFFsGTrdn-e4wy2irQDfI-zQ_3L-sb2junSG5KWe6tBBuP-u-Jg5EnF1W6pUWMI2u38CeBfA/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpRz5xlDgCE8XYEi9ybVnlMnGydAd-eXAY0qt-m9TcwNG9hK9oDWj-4sQQm5PBrqlGEJTFFsGTrdn-e4wy2irQDfI-zQ_3L-sb2junSG5KWe6tBBuP-u-Jg5EnF1W6pUWMI2u38CeBfA/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667559422530770642" border="0" /></a>Both as a political force for uniting black people and a sporting force in its own right, the West Indies challenged the imperial yoke by giving it a taste of its own medicine. The teams they faced were resoundingly beaten because the Windies were not expected to bowl so fast and so ruthlessly to what were considered the best sides in the world. As when Australia won the inaugural Ashes series in 1882, the West Indies shook cricket at its foundations, upsetting the natural order and asking big questions about the running of the game.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGNpLPtM_6cf-iCNgeyVn4DpMTbk0G1NPNUOzvtBmwcoQNKNKL6LKG9X7Q9Cv43xWvGbuZEnMM_J3VwwU7uZrNQ9E6dks6Z8H_xy4OtyZhd-pOBSPQLXSv9AA80hOmZjAO2sJrcm76eI/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGNpLPtM_6cf-iCNgeyVn4DpMTbk0G1NPNUOzvtBmwcoQNKNKL6LKG9X7Q9Cv43xWvGbuZEnMM_J3VwwU7uZrNQ9E6dks6Z8H_xy4OtyZhd-pOBSPQLXSv9AA80hOmZjAO2sJrcm76eI/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667559779736620962" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fire in Babylon </span>credits the West Indies with helping to modernise the game, particularly in their involvement in World Series Cricket. This private three-way tournament, created by Aussie entrepreneur Kerry Packer, recruited cricketers from all over the world to play for big prize money with extensive sponsorship and media coverage. As well as introducing coloured kits and improved protection for batsmen, World Series turned cricket from a sport of "pot-bellied amateurs" into something which could be a full-time profession with proper training and an emphasis on fitness. The series, and the West Indies' approach within it, cut through all the old school, elitist customs that threatened to keep the game stuck in wartime, doing away with such pitiful traditions as a bowler applauding a batsman after being hit for six.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO32fNA5Q1eIG9nTRIt5XJS3MM96jyMTijTXjCD81GAi7jyeNuEMHD5pL28gchvW65NhUOaDwV6-fYzjeEDi0oKsJvX0FFfAlcrElFzHErX47co3PkDl_nbkwgBXOd357UdFb4KchIo-8/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO32fNA5Q1eIG9nTRIt5XJS3MM96jyMTijTXjCD81GAi7jyeNuEMHD5pL28gchvW65NhUOaDwV6-fYzjeEDi0oKsJvX0FFfAlcrElFzHErX47co3PkDl_nbkwgBXOd357UdFb4KchIo-8/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667560266245363730" border="0" /></a>From Stevan Riley's abundance of talking heads, a series of fascinating and entertaining characters emerge. Andy Roberts comes across as a man of immense passion, who is quick to defend their playing style from accusations of disrepute or unnecessary aggression. He talks about needing to not show weakness in front of the opposition, choosing to "take my aggression out on five-and-a-half ounces" rather than give in to pointless violence.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBX-KY85YxKuQOG9bNmcjlSpEPPeiXkWeD6uc5UtlL6qXePCQ__wUbPpTiEotfPMOBJuxH1fipCWI06wUBGR4V4El1otowZZmiUKtVLRapw_-Mv-H4asko2eMpp9mNZhsE5jLRDTzXLAw/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 198px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBX-KY85YxKuQOG9bNmcjlSpEPPeiXkWeD6uc5UtlL6qXePCQ__wUbPpTiEotfPMOBJuxH1fipCWI06wUBGR4V4El1otowZZmiUKtVLRapw_-Mv-H4asko2eMpp9mNZhsE5jLRDTzXLAw/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667560126046263490" border="0" /></a>Other characters within the side are equally gripping. Colin Croft comes across an ebullient, gleeful man who loved to represent his country and take revenge on big-headed batsmen. Watching Michael Holding play is beautiful and his dedication to the sport comes through in everything he says. Whenever South Africa is mentioned, it is as though a dark cloak has been drawn over proceedings, and he is quick to criticise players like Croft who signed up to lucrative rebel tours, where they were treated as "honorary whites"(!). Best of all is the enigmatic Viv Richards, who talks dolorously of staring down Dennis Lillee and treating his bat like a sword.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUz3b1kpKYrywNy0TDOgWcAokRynYi66dNSOFeVzQVLZus56AXSeO2JLc9J-Bqw8s3QLyF48PI3w2rAEDVlWx6GgMDMTWJTYtBQmNi6QHsTUS_uANPcHfAVgR_LxPIz5shwQo6Fu8Oqo/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUz3b1kpKYrywNy0TDOgWcAokRynYi66dNSOFeVzQVLZus56AXSeO2JLc9J-Bqw8s3QLyF48PI3w2rAEDVlWx6GgMDMTWJTYtBQmNi6QHsTUS_uANPcHfAVgR_LxPIz5shwQo6Fu8Oqo/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667560880340447202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">F</span><span style="font-style: italic;">ire in Babylon</span> doesn't shy away from the pain involved in cricket, containing any number of wince-inducing moments. This was an age where cricket was played without proper protection in the way of arm and thigh pads; most players, Viv Richards included, faced down some of the world's fastest bowlers without a helmet. Riley includes a number of choice morsels, including Andy Roberts breaking David Hookes' jaw, David Lloyd copping one in the knackers from Jeff Thomson, and Michael Holding's lethal bouncers against Brian Close in 1976. Sadly we don't get to enjoy his extraordinary over against Geoffrey Boycott on the same tour.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_i7OmQvBbcKqTuWKrIbty9_g22spaBP9xUCKC_N_QKfV7NJ_QtvWKzY1R4J3e5afKYCSpP8cz1wwgm-SzR66WxhHQynJr0LfkhdVdMuRK5qHSGwyiCDQuBceGuKbh1vSKW8eYGp962g/s1600/16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_i7OmQvBbcKqTuWKrIbty9_g22spaBP9xUCKC_N_QKfV7NJ_QtvWKzY1R4J3e5afKYCSpP8cz1wwgm-SzR66WxhHQynJr0LfkhdVdMuRK5qHSGwyiCDQuBceGuKbh1vSKW8eYGp962g/s320/16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667561440804142082" border="0" /></a>This leads to on to a major problem with <span style="font-style: italic;">Fire in Babylon</span>, namely the lack of playing footage. While sourcing archive material for documentaries can be expensive, there must be more archive footage available, and a lot of it is old enough to be in the public domain. It's all well and good having loads of still photographs of the ball in flight, with little clips potted here and there, but when you have someone as graceful and threatening as Michael Holding, you want to see him in full motion, not being constantly interrupted by newspaper cuttings. The shortcomings of this film points to the greatness of <span style="font-style: italic;">Senna</span>, a film which was not only mopre thoroughly researched but better stitched together.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGY0DTjmsRyI_mVuEbJXt_r-LawbdwEtYeXyyCLbvC973N280vNF7RAJga9u9MlZ1rn_nBsRSOiuN8AFGAZvq7LJu4i_MW7L_vFZjq5KcgAPQ0g6o13kSZXxh1HhRbR8PzzLSlOHCI-hw/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 292px; height: 172px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGY0DTjmsRyI_mVuEbJXt_r-LawbdwEtYeXyyCLbvC973N280vNF7RAJga9u9MlZ1rn_nBsRSOiuN8AFGAZvq7LJu4i_MW7L_vFZjq5KcgAPQ0g6o13kSZXxh1HhRbR8PzzLSlOHCI-hw/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667561026806214722" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fire in Babylon</span> is also guilty of overegging its political pudding. While it does make very good points about racial attitudes and challenging stereotypes through dignity and humour, it is said so often that it becomes didactic. Sometimes it can feel like we are being lectured, with the same points being repeated so much that the film threatens to tip over into <span style="font-style: italic;">Malcolm X</span> territory. The presence of Bunny Wailer, of Bob Marley & The Wailers, becomes especially tiresome: we become extremely annoyed with him even as we're agreeing with everything he says.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxVEeLjITqrKkbgq2vDYakYRb78Sspz6d6M1FYHRAx9FRer1OW_HlptrOI-6TM3EeChW1zNxT9usqhPINXciIrAA1aYKWfgVJll3elxrWFigilsh5BASfEKsVizTAo27oA7ESwDK3vo50/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxVEeLjITqrKkbgq2vDYakYRb78Sspz6d6M1FYHRAx9FRer1OW_HlptrOI-6TM3EeChW1zNxT9usqhPINXciIrAA1aYKWfgVJll3elxrWFigilsh5BASfEKsVizTAo27oA7ESwDK3vo50/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667560712999169762" border="0" /></a>The final huge problem is that the film has too many voiceovers or narrators. Having a lot of talking heads is fine, but the director has to step in and marshal them, either to construct a direct narrative or to present them in such a way that the audience can create their own. Riley falls simultaneously into two completely different traps: it's too inconsistent and jumpy to be narratively compelling, but it's also too broad and schematic to be believable. In the end he just about gets away with it, but the shortcomings remain in plain sight.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxVEeLjITqrKkbgq2vDYakYRb78Sspz6d6M1FYHRAx9FRer1OW_HlptrOI-6TM3EeChW1zNxT9usqhPINXciIrAA1aYKWfgVJll3elxrWFigilsh5BASfEKsVizTAo27oA7ESwDK3vo50/s1600/8.jpg"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_LuDntQ5M1itACieKJajTdZ-3yg8n7VzbvuPCniODI1TCVS1ysk7ADSZD19MR7KVz6kBpDvoY_LqnrHcRGNk7Wvxf0q-L7dQJEjEmy7m1TDmTlQAsFJn8iKoH_n8Pz_1-yFl8UJ7DyE/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_LuDntQ5M1itACieKJajTdZ-3yg8n7VzbvuPCniODI1TCVS1ysk7ADSZD19MR7KVz6kBpDvoY_LqnrHcRGNk7Wvxf0q-L7dQJEjEmy7m1TDmTlQAsFJn8iKoH_n8Pz_1-yFl8UJ7DyE/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667559544569858786" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Fire in Babylon</span> is a flawed but important document of a sporting era whose repercussions are still being felt in contemporary cricket. Stevan Riley has better-structured, more comprehensive documentaries in him, and the problems with the film become all too obvious as the action moves forward. But this is still a pretty decent first stab at an important subject matter which will bring in the casual viewer. In cricketing terms, it's a solid half-century, and while its best shots are hampered by poor footwork, all signs point to a better second innings.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=3stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 75px; height: 15px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/3stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Verdict: A decent first knock<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-15701204990915988642011-10-23T16:42:00.020+01:002011-10-23T18:07:19.939+01:00FILM REVIEW: The Eagle (2011)<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Eagle (UK/ USA, 2011)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Kevin Macdonald</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Channing Tatum, Jamie Bell, Donald Sutherland, Mark Strong<br /><br /></span>When <span style="font-style: italic;">Gladiator</span> reinvigorated the swords-and-sandals epic, it was quickly followed by a host of films which sought to replicate its success by imitating part or all of its formula. But whatever the qualities of <span style="font-style: italic;">Troy</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Alexander</span> or even <span style="font-style: italic;">300</span>, there was always a niggling sense that we were getting something inherently inferior. Adding to this list of disappointments is <span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle</span>, the first big hiccup in Kevin Macdonald's career.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKseQ1eSlybMSpgshXayyte6JDAGZG9Zk6aRor6ePrrzXlofJ-D5gGkUsdOxIKEjbnxJH28xqt0e1R0xlN4o9ENLbonl2l_f7hbh5Wl7ffO3Mwaf83m6yqUFbVIULi6CN33JhPJpFcYwI/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKseQ1eSlybMSpgshXayyte6JDAGZG9Zk6aRor6ePrrzXlofJ-D5gGkUsdOxIKEjbnxJH28xqt0e1R0xlN4o9ENLbonl2l_f7hbh5Wl7ffO3Mwaf83m6yqUFbVIULi6CN33JhPJpFcYwI/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666732575025245346" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle</span>'s relationship to <span style="font-style: italic;">Gladiator</span> is uncomfortably close right from the start. In the opening act, before Channing Tatum journeys over Hadrian's Wall, the film invokes or restages several key images from Ridley Scott's masterpiece, such as Marcus praying to the gods through smoke or laying out little figurines of his family. The first battle sequence is like the opening battle in <span style="font-style: italic;">Gladiator</span>, only shot on a smaller scale and without a tripod. Last but not least, the central character is a soldier haunted by what has happened to his family, in this case the shame surrounding his father.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmU4WnPHBeP1JsJiQEJGDz-lQF1mr2g0lj2k-SuQefmPJ470IKe7SnJAaQtMDTLb8wLV68r-i0T99ewMD10gWdN5H18wvm1VY2kh6NlWd9Y1TMqAuUKo4CdXNfZp91mr9rCn0pDS5p8MU/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmU4WnPHBeP1JsJiQEJGDz-lQF1mr2g0lj2k-SuQefmPJ470IKe7SnJAaQtMDTLb8wLV68r-i0T99ewMD10gWdN5H18wvm1VY2kh6NlWd9Y1TMqAuUKo4CdXNfZp91mr9rCn0pDS5p8MU/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666733143222622210" border="0" /></a>There are other prominent references in the film which become all too apparent as the action plays out. The ending, where Marcus and Esca are pursued across the Scottish landscape by the Seal People, is very close to <span style="font-style: italic;">The Fellowship of the Ring</span>. They are two small, vulnerable people being pursued by the 2nd-century equivalent of the uruk-hai, and Justine Wright's editing is very similar to those sequences. Even the sound design treads close to <span style="font-style: italic;">The Lord of the Rings</span>, with the death throes of Marcus' horse sounding awfully similar to those of the cave troll.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSpSjTSQL8_D92fld88JW_mbiWDE4Uwv5CUe-t9ZSXrqfqpDyuNbrJ6FgDgUWoieodAZU7xAOrcgAXFvQzN1YdSdbvEDqL_-tcFSV-5kKV_RaqTIM2ACDsdlsPVIu-J_uMGGfJX4XqS8/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSpSjTSQL8_D92fld88JW_mbiWDE4Uwv5CUe-t9ZSXrqfqpDyuNbrJ6FgDgUWoieodAZU7xAOrcgAXFvQzN1YdSdbvEDqL_-tcFSV-5kKV_RaqTIM2ACDsdlsPVIu-J_uMGGfJX4XqS8/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666734370781776818" border="0" /></a>The crucial problem with<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Eagle</span> is that it fails to do what <span style="font-style: italic;">Gladiator</span> did so well - namely balancing the macho and the metaphysical. Scott's film began and ended in the Elysian fields: its intense and often brutal battle scenes (including the fist-fight between Maximus and Commodus) were anchored around an exploration of politics, religion, gender and mortality. <span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle</span> doesn't have any such weight to carry around and its presentation is much more erratic: it amounts to lots of walking, then a battle, repeated a few times, with the odd little twist or idea thrown in along the way.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVx9D6dxBrdSS6dW6gnBsHNuxt6C-NDlCM4oe7wSYQchi5NbDbOwalSmnN8pBvhwzFFGIOr2bPQUw2vHDsp8wWSXqGBNv7nRdg_wdVUt8grlQDL_peyw2XHhWD78yXBJe-sT2I4a8X8SM/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVx9D6dxBrdSS6dW6gnBsHNuxt6C-NDlCM4oe7wSYQchi5NbDbOwalSmnN8pBvhwzFFGIOr2bPQUw2vHDsp8wWSXqGBNv7nRdg_wdVUt8grlQDL_peyw2XHhWD78yXBJe-sT2I4a8X8SM/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666734869148214322" border="0" /></a>A further comparison, this time with Scott's most recent effort, will help to shed further light on Macdonald's shortcomings. The central problem with <span style="font-style: italic;">Robin Hood</span> was that it didn't know exactly what it wanted to be - a <span style="font-style: italic;">Batman Begins</span>-like origin story, a political drama about working-class emancipation, or a bombastic action movie with pantomime villains. But even in the midst of making up its mind, <span style="font-style: italic;">Robin Hood</span> did at least manage to tackle the political side of its story, albeit superficially.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauJKqSlOr1CR0ip8mvtL-MRlahHn_liXoMHOrH53_UcrEdN55EZJJTDkBBswfY_7OL6RXsMCwKI-wUY-Zz8hs-GQt5eU0TQq2oQuiu1SIyyrw0aZXx5RbZIfs2Z90fap38S3MPnc5L4Y/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauJKqSlOr1CR0ip8mvtL-MRlahHn_liXoMHOrH53_UcrEdN55EZJJTDkBBswfY_7OL6RXsMCwKI-wUY-Zz8hs-GQt5eU0TQq2oQuiu1SIyyrw0aZXx5RbZIfs2Z90fap38S3MPnc5L4Y/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666732661255578498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle</span> has the opposite problem. It knows exactly what it wants to be, which is a very old-fashioned romp (and I use the term loosely) with characters which are all too clearly drawn and a fairly predictable storyline. Rosemary Sutcliff's novel, which had previously been adapted for <span style="font-style: italic;">Children's Hour</span> in the 1950s, draws the battle lines between good and evil all too broadly, placing honour and valour over common sense and character development. Even when it's trying to subvert the central relationship between master and slave during the encounter with the Seal People, it still feels blinkered and obstinate as to where your loyalties should lie and to what extent.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiurS2iKARmy6Nt7kgAW6AOzcbd7xJNrR7mKyb5Z5847sQFVBVd7jUkCf4oyiDlb4DWFtmTaK2QbBNCtpZbXqiLXleP3H6tWoLh2idsf6dgwxC7Ps1YPk6btgCKPjcw9YGo0tBxI45C6jM/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiurS2iKARmy6Nt7kgAW6AOzcbd7xJNrR7mKyb5Z5847sQFVBVd7jUkCf4oyiDlb4DWFtmTaK2QbBNCtpZbXqiLXleP3H6tWoLh2idsf6dgwxC7Ps1YPk6btgCKPjcw9YGo0tBxI45C6jM/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666735209352459170" border="0" /></a>Whereas the novel was originally intended for children (more specifically young boys), there are numerous sequences in<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Eagle</span> which are unsuitable for younger audiences. For a 12 certificate film, it is pretty gruesome, with more than one instance of beheading and a fair amount of blood on screen. That said, you don't have to sit through all the really troubling stuff, like people's throats being slit (including a child's throat in one scene towards the end). And most of the time the battle scenes are so frenetic and rapidly edited that you can't exactly tell where people are getting hit, or with what - or, for that matter, why.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN32w4pP7xBWzLGtakRwZmdiM9Pg6Qs6o7mXOuCngzbUzCzzQQd_2TnBdmM7LVdv45ExAQVB4IJTfzCx6qTZAQDlooMAeBKqsobvB_X3ju2a2gggrTdA25hzXCNsHPBVbxcoHsus8nA20/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN32w4pP7xBWzLGtakRwZmdiM9Pg6Qs6o7mXOuCngzbUzCzzQQd_2TnBdmM7LVdv45ExAQVB4IJTfzCx6qTZAQDlooMAeBKqsobvB_X3ju2a2gggrTdA25hzXCNsHPBVbxcoHsus8nA20/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666734684950365570" border="0" /></a>The film is shot by Anthony Dod Mantle, whose credits include the Oscar-winning <span style="font-style: italic;">Slumdog Millionaire</span> and Lars von Trier's controversial <span style="font-style: italic;">Antichrist</span>. Dod Mantle is a pioneer of handheld digital photography, and he does add a number of notable visual touches which make <span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle</span> a little more distinctive. The opening shot on the river is like one of the woodland scenes in Antichrist: there is a similar sense of mystery in the wild surroundings of nature, albeit with less demonic threat. And some of his compositions are clever, such as showing characters' faces through water which is already reflecting the sky.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ6GkGCDBT3K92cmr1R2DOQ3c167fG0ntV3kfmeZinw2x_2_nyU5m3jV7eneYH51lwNZZDIRzOwO2939TNQBV1Mdtj1E2kvcsN-cJUnd3wFwnh0NknB67zFQBbFB-ZUM2609z2w9vBsWc/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ6GkGCDBT3K92cmr1R2DOQ3c167fG0ntV3kfmeZinw2x_2_nyU5m3jV7eneYH51lwNZZDIRzOwO2939TNQBV1Mdtj1E2kvcsN-cJUnd3wFwnh0NknB67zFQBbFB-ZUM2609z2w9vBsWc/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666733284146655330" border="0" /></a>But despite Dod Mantle's knowledge and expertise, the use of hand-held camera is inconsistent and ends up being detrimental. Notwithstanding the shortcomings of the battle scenes, the quieter sections find Macdonald's camera juddering and bouncing when the scene would be better served with a dolly or crane. Like the opening of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Bourne Supremacy</span>, it takes a while for us to adjust to the aesthetic, and for the action to catch up with the frenetic camerawork. But whereas Paul Greengrass' film eventually got into its stride, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle</span> remains dodgy throughout, with Dod Mantle's camerawork hampering Macdonald's already lacklustre direction.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bh-IYM1BJcZxg_y0o5FdpEjNRyHoGyqaUChQ6Vupkc1hAXNM7zZbT1-19hRB9ILDybRprm4M5NzOsllF-S3ZLswTkBHvjmJgbaVXhICAV2j8WzIzP-pGJNwHwtSvtPU3BgmK2SOaQFU/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bh-IYM1BJcZxg_y0o5FdpEjNRyHoGyqaUChQ6Vupkc1hAXNM7zZbT1-19hRB9ILDybRprm4M5NzOsllF-S3ZLswTkBHvjmJgbaVXhICAV2j8WzIzP-pGJNwHwtSvtPU3BgmK2SOaQFU/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666732891304325762" border="0" /></a>What makes <span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle</span> so lacklustre is the lack of strong, charismatic performances. This is surprising considering Macdonald's back catalogue, which includes Forest Whittaker's terrifying performance as Idi Amin in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Last King of Scotland</span>. Jamie Bell remains a decent actor with a certain amount of screen presence, and Mark Strong makes the most of a small supporting role. But all their best efforts are in vain due to Channing Tatum, who has the charisma and acting ability of a lump of granite.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9cx5xsnRkscW8HG9vzc3SBDmnYoJgtCCzhTHkPrwD77gOCSE5hpu641pzEef3NJtbX6wa_3O5Xn9hlNe1CtCRCKGRcp6ddOAKi01Brdfpt_gkL_ksdShpyBDhMFLYQI_CYduqelBzAiU/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9cx5xsnRkscW8HG9vzc3SBDmnYoJgtCCzhTHkPrwD77gOCSE5hpu641pzEef3NJtbX6wa_3O5Xn9hlNe1CtCRCKGRcp6ddOAKi01Brdfpt_gkL_ksdShpyBDhMFLYQI_CYduqelBzAiU/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666734237199549570" border="0" /></a>Because the film has no strong, charismatic protagonist, we aren't drawn into the story enough to make the substance feel intriguing. There is a couple of interesting ideas explored in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle </span>which are both interesting from a genre point of view and pertinent to 21st-century politics. One of these is the inherent instability of a conquering power, and the imperial force having to isolate an enemy rather than face it down and exterminate it. The very existence of Hadrian's Wall, as an imposed, artificial barrier between 'savage' and 'civilised', indicates that the occupying force is based upon fear, both in its methods of conquering and its view of other civilisations.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHQVGBrzpqm-gEH4jR1Y35eVPvhYaguuYhZv91TqZVpA1rtfCLJT0sjVl_esRvtUsL9PHBB55gqvnkdkOMNZWSbanZRnWprqUfcd3n4J0stoVEgO0wKgYmVXfkvIcl0dzTRBueQoQBXo/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHQVGBrzpqm-gEH4jR1Y35eVPvhYaguuYhZv91TqZVpA1rtfCLJT0sjVl_esRvtUsL9PHBB55gqvnkdkOMNZWSbanZRnWprqUfcd3n4J0stoVEgO0wKgYmVXfkvIcl0dzTRBueQoQBXo/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666735041729732626" border="0" /></a>When Marcus encounters the Seal People, he is confronted with a culture which operates along the same tribal lines as his own. There is a clear distinction made between Roman and Briton, observed in everything from speech patterns to physical features: there is a running comment about Roman soldiers being recognised by a helmet scar under their chin. Having spent all his life as part of the 'superior race', Marcus is forced into silence and submission as the master-slave relationship is reversed. Esca, meanwhile, is torn between his desire for vengeance against Rome and his professed loyalty to Marcus for sparing his life at the games.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQNSsLQcYlVd12Rk2lJTtPcAv5xbk10m9FdMXHVY5uCU67bQG0UpPacyVGYxV9UYieT07Svs9ps-VQ3EkAFssyUOFZWSYuGIcyacHtvUNEY5JeXYF9m5ocANtsIOIIY6N6cc1aZW-yQ0/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQNSsLQcYlVd12Rk2lJTtPcAv5xbk10m9FdMXHVY5uCU67bQG0UpPacyVGYxV9UYieT07Svs9ps-VQ3EkAFssyUOFZWSYuGIcyacHtvUNEY5JeXYF9m5ocANtsIOIIY6N6cc1aZW-yQ0/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666734506602415330" border="0" /></a>These are interesting ideas in and of themselves, but the film's structure never allows them to be explored in a satisfying amount of detail. More often than not <span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle</span> relies earnestly on genre expectations to sustain its appeal, giving us spectacle and plot devices but not much in the way of emotional engagement. The search for the missing roman standard, the eagle of the title, becomes almost secondary to the characters' endless wanderings, and the epilogue of them returning it to the senators is silly and clichéd.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDh8GEy52XI583jCyEIFOT41Kr4liG6aBYWWrSXLsbxENHjXENvsxuiHmUsQY3SykPmXEUQzY4kYBc1HSd4D7XXtcsF1buy2dcfgCt_J0FZIxlSewXbBNxG61Ncsl8JQ1mR8k0QXsqP_k/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDh8GEy52XI583jCyEIFOT41Kr4liG6aBYWWrSXLsbxENHjXENvsxuiHmUsQY3SykPmXEUQzY4kYBc1HSd4D7XXtcsF1buy2dcfgCt_J0FZIxlSewXbBNxG61Ncsl8JQ1mR8k0QXsqP_k/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666733460347081554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Eagle</span> is a big disappointment from Macdonald, failing as both a romp and a means of exploring interesting ideas within a genre. It's not without substance or individual scenes which are visually arresting: it's a better story than <span style="font-style: italic;">300 </span>and the battle scenes will just about satisfy teenage boys. But for those of us who want to think a little harder, it falls short of most of the marks set for it, never threatening <span style="font-style: italic;">Gladiator</span>'s mantle as the great historical epic of our time.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=2stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/2stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Macdonald's first real disappointment<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-43288848026306540142011-10-16T20:56:00.015+01:002011-10-16T21:51:25.579+01:00FILM REVIEW: Gojira (1954)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Gojira (Japan, 1954)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Ishiro Honda</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Akira Takarada, Momoka Kochi, Akihiko Hirata, Takashi Shimura</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br />Action movies are often criticised for being stupid. They are looked down upon by critics and blamed by social commentators for causing the perceived anti-intellectualism of today's youth. While there are many examples of this genre, or indeed any genre that would fit the bill, action movies are capable of being just as intelligent or insightful as their more artistic counterparts. <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira </span>is a classic case in point, retaining its relative intelligence in spite of its dramatic creakiness.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguhjsAqBQp3MTcCUHvbeK9lhJ-jlTUUTIRCKbw5fQZDR_nPrFftByRKXqu2OKqZEHfJRBEyVTJMWHoKorgUZE_3NnUCMn0ky71q7jsC_MAma1RYmO-vTC2uEkfUgLQ4PiatCxWMhpBLqo/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 278px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguhjsAqBQp3MTcCUHvbeK9lhJ-jlTUUTIRCKbw5fQZDR_nPrFftByRKXqu2OKqZEHfJRBEyVTJMWHoKorgUZE_3NnUCMn0ky71q7jsC_MAma1RYmO-vTC2uEkfUgLQ4PiatCxWMhpBLqo/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664194483175207970" border="0" /></a>The cultural influence that <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span> exerts is undeniable. Apart from generating a legion of sequels, crossover films and one god-awful American remake, it has become one of the most iconic Japanese artistic creations. But aside from its cemented status as a symbol of Western perceptions of Japan, its influence on cinema worldwide is just as marked. As well as directly inspiring works like <span style="font-style: italic;">Cloverfield</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Host</span>, its imagery has influenced everyone from Matt Groening to Steven Spielberg, who dubbed the monster's death scream onto the end of <span style="font-style: italic;">Duel</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-wyGArCKz1oC8H5W8qXnNcvvNuJXnV7bArNTHOLk5Rr4WJQtDcq20NeRPfbczZGRrZDN9jv49SD5YS9LcNVKyUvw4ZLCgIZQadjUgHFgjcew7f5Lzi1VfJem_6TUQaQonuBczM58ly6Y/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-wyGArCKz1oC8H5W8qXnNcvvNuJXnV7bArNTHOLk5Rr4WJQtDcq20NeRPfbczZGRrZDN9jv49SD5YS9LcNVKyUvw4ZLCgIZQadjUgHFgjcew7f5Lzi1VfJem_6TUQaQonuBczM58ly6Y/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664192603419594610" border="0" /></a>For better or worse, <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span> either created or cemented many of the conventions of the modern monster movie. The groundwork may have been laid by <span style="font-style: italic;">King Kong</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Creature from the Black Lagoon</span>, but the conventions founded in Gojira are now so endemic that they deserve recognition. We have the central romance between two people who are destined to be together, set against the backdrop of their home being destroyed or, as with <span style="font-style: italic;">Jurassic Park</span>, other people they care about being put in mortal danger. While most of the characters want to destroy the monster, one person wants to keep it alive to see what they can learn for it (a variation of <span style="font-style: italic;">King Kong</span>, in which one character wants to make money from it). And there is a distant or geeky scientist who doesn't want to help, but ends up possessing the only thing that can stop the monster.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9Vqd1ihUwwTMc5xez3QZQ3FfsCE51RVGFtrViBSILDAVUsx1-1I81rcM8vaJhIHt0ZO_qLCCZUqQmP1BHtq3y8msiaE066Wd7tS1DMpK7Iy7dFRclP1KW0EwGXRK3ArCbEA_4Bzd8RI/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9Vqd1ihUwwTMc5xez3QZQ3FfsCE51RVGFtrViBSILDAVUsx1-1I81rcM8vaJhIHt0ZO_qLCCZUqQmP1BHtq3y8msiaE066Wd7tS1DMpK7Iy7dFRclP1KW0EwGXRK3ArCbEA_4Bzd8RI/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664193082988553522" border="0" /></a>Like many classic foreign-language films, <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span> had a rough time with the American distributors. Just as <span style="font-style: italic;">Metropolis </span>was heavily butchered to reduce its running time, so Gojira was taken apart and restructured in such a way that the American version looked like a totally different film. This version, called <span style="font-style: italic;">Godzilla, King of the Monsters!</span>, was dubbed into English with new footage of Raymond Burr playing a reporter called Steve Martin - which leaves everybody free to remark that the American version is a complete joke. The disrespect which Terry Morse showed for the original is plain to see: even with the reams of new footage, the new version was 10 minutes shorter than the original.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_LTQpGtBu1rQTWPSN72v0-pnUTXxW-w7HOKXyv01zGD3uEkLr5bjRUjnvaWuKMZyjYhbMEc0orAtXFAucq4KAssoPJ3dGdqEQMeRVDJiD5ysHnU8KFrRPF_Eo14-fgbriBkZuJETzYvk/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_LTQpGtBu1rQTWPSN72v0-pnUTXxW-w7HOKXyv01zGD3uEkLr5bjRUjnvaWuKMZyjYhbMEc0orAtXFAucq4KAssoPJ3dGdqEQMeRVDJiD5ysHnU8KFrRPF_Eo14-fgbriBkZuJETzYvk/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664193246323265890" border="0" /></a>Ironically, one of the big problems with <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span> is something which is characteristic of American action movies, particularly with more contemporary offerings. Like many recent CG-heavy action films, <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span> does end up being dominated by its special effects. Some of the set-pieces are incredible even now, such as the central 10-minute sequence of the monster breathing fire and laying waste to Tokyo. But like the American remake, the extent to which the set-pieces are emphasised prompts questions about the workings of the monster - chief amongst them being, why would it help a lizard to be fire-breathing if it lived underwater?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbX8HfNJ3XoUq_CPhrxtvu-i6Xl6yHfAw2d-SvY6BqRLNieqdPtnFfnxwjkP2z-8yGaddnNtDaOUuHN7k8digwa0C7dI6zyRs2yPGhNm2z41k1C_1MpRXnLiKP5Tz6jMclUVtGCzqsST8/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbX8HfNJ3XoUq_CPhrxtvu-i6Xl6yHfAw2d-SvY6BqRLNieqdPtnFfnxwjkP2z-8yGaddnNtDaOUuHN7k8digwa0C7dI6zyRs2yPGhNm2z41k1C_1MpRXnLiKP5Tz6jMclUVtGCzqsST8/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664193152211252002" border="0" /></a>This dominance of effects is solidified by <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span>'s melodramatic plot. It's wrong to attack one of the definitive monster movies for falling into the clichés it created, just as it's wrong to criticise <span style="font-style: italic;">The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari</span> for having a twist ending. But you can still see all the plot points coming a mile off, and the characters are so clearly drawn from a visual point of view that you don't really have to second-guess. The moment you see the character with a scar and an eye-patch, you know there is something shifty about him.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_eVyScQuS6BE_oU0zM3fZGriN1uFRnD62yxqUVFlqKZx8b9dBQUy36oGqEPad9DAFjNxVfEeoJop-N2jCFmUjhR9i9H8V_TbX5zVpSrLKTAjBlo8dvB9JUnU8OgTA882n9cGbLq-mZE/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_eVyScQuS6BE_oU0zM3fZGriN1uFRnD62yxqUVFlqKZx8b9dBQUy36oGqEPad9DAFjNxVfEeoJop-N2jCFmUjhR9i9H8V_TbX5zVpSrLKTAjBlo8dvB9JUnU8OgTA882n9cGbLq-mZE/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664195236870852386" border="0" /></a>There is some dispute in critical circles over how good or original <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span>'s effects are. Roger Ebert, who called it "a bad film, but with an undeniable urgency", argued that the effects in <span style="font-style: italic;">King Kong </span>were much more state-of-the-art, describing Godzilla the monster as "awkward" and "crude". It's an argument that has never been properly settled, not even when the two monsters went head to head in <span style="font-style: italic;">King Kong vs. Godzilla</span> eight years after this.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oLEbYKXLb1KL5duQOsR39y2NGyRIIaTZFgLomN57FMUWOdu2HleUnODXBLpP80JX3yvyovHN4SuSUrRDM9VeItP4wteHK206FUQCWhxdZlqI80bD_Qo9FVGj-QF5gHSn_Evqz9bZ900/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 264px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oLEbYKXLb1KL5duQOsR39y2NGyRIIaTZFgLomN57FMUWOdu2HleUnODXBLpP80JX3yvyovHN4SuSUrRDM9VeItP4wteHK206FUQCWhxdZlqI80bD_Qo9FVGj-QF5gHSn_Evqz9bZ900/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664195325810942802" border="0" /></a>In the end, the only way to judge the validity of <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span>'s effects is whether or not they succeed in giving the monster character. This is not simply a case of whether or not he/ she/ it looks like a man in a beanbag wandering around on a set; it is whether the physical form taken by Godzilla/Gojira conveys or achieves the desired emotional response. The short answer to this is yes, because we do believe that the monster has intelligence and a personality. We aren't necessarily in floods of tears when the oxygen destroyer kills him, but there is still the feeling that something physical and tangible has departed, something in which we invested and believed.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyxN1ooZjAc3VF5cFuZfEjlguWiHHUu0KucF6bI2Piq87Z7YLaBznioHBlh5VfasjulDQ1EjkY67shhsLDOkicRWlFVZ_xkAy4nOOGIPa-WX6mPTtUuVOcRnnjfzwfsEHbf-4wZ1UXTfs/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 271px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyxN1ooZjAc3VF5cFuZfEjlguWiHHUu0KucF6bI2Piq87Z7YLaBznioHBlh5VfasjulDQ1EjkY67shhsLDOkicRWlFVZ_xkAy4nOOGIPa-WX6mPTtUuVOcRnnjfzwfsEHbf-4wZ1UXTfs/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664195133953506850" border="0" /></a>Where <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira </span>differs from, and perhaps improves on <span style="font-style: italic;">King Kong</span> is its political subtext. The film is an engrossing allegory for Japan's reaction to the events of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and to the on-going US nuclear tests occurring in the Pacific. This was something which was not widely reported in the American press at the time, which coupled with political pressure might explain why the US version cut out most of the subtext.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-OR75TnmAvwILpZKsM-eO2UDu7VDkK1yZp6nHshh0_SlQmX8E0uEOzXH6CH_UVidBlqQ7lAeDz34uQAqsX5GDM1FHkpJU_OKGKh77JutpxGw-jsN2KRC1wYda8ul8Xk5kLh_xO5jwmM/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-OR75TnmAvwILpZKsM-eO2UDu7VDkK1yZp6nHshh0_SlQmX8E0uEOzXH6CH_UVidBlqQ7lAeDz34uQAqsX5GDM1FHkpJU_OKGKh77JutpxGw-jsN2KRC1wYda8ul8Xk5kLh_xO5jwmM/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664194049214823154" border="0" /></a>The parallels <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira </span>draws between real-life events and those of the characters would have been strikingly clear at the time, and are arguably more so to us nearly 60 years later. The underwater explosions which are reported when the first ships sink are an echo of the after-effects of Bikini Atoll: the Americans exploded a device two-and-a-half times larger than expected, leaving hundreds of people within the supposed safety zone with acute radiation poisoning. The harrowing shots showing the aftermath of Gojira's destruction of Tokyo could be lifted straight from <span style="font-style: italic;">The World at War</span>. Considering that Japan was still recovering from the long-term effects of the war, including these kinds of scenes was decidedly brave.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2G_f6UMXzxAki2SMzBIaF9AkBWnT_8nUOqlRpz_miPcbFoYDEFEGOZmhLMvnbvlN_bJZ_-PtebWXPd0bOdbTZZwJSlu8f-pKt7GVyCwvG1oJulHxLasciBm3LKWAqBoqQhCkgmME3CKw/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2G_f6UMXzxAki2SMzBIaF9AkBWnT_8nUOqlRpz_miPcbFoYDEFEGOZmhLMvnbvlN_bJZ_-PtebWXPd0bOdbTZZwJSlu8f-pKt7GVyCwvG1oJulHxLasciBm3LKWAqBoqQhCkgmME3CKw/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664193730102905618" border="0" /></a>There is also a direct parallel between the real-life and fictitious characters. Dr. Daisuke Serizawa, played by Akihiko Hirata, is a convincing reflection of Professor Robert Oppenheimer, one of the chief scientists at the Manhattan Project which created the first bombs. When we are taken inside his lab, there is a mention of his "German friends", a sly nod to the fact that German and Austrian scientists pioneered many of the components of the atomic bomb. Serizawa refuses to use the device because he knows how devastating it can be on a small scale, a possible nod to Oppenheimer's mixed feelings following the Trinity test. While Oppenheimer remarked that he had "become death, a destroyer of worlds", Serizawa dies alongside his invention, lest it ever be used again.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVDo3GwpqlBYNQ5CGpNNhUBtwog7CnetyJ9yrkDPKTs5YPx4C1niXPN4GoFgkoG_4vO4-e2rMEeJ7vIrYDSdDgY9T2BNNs7xaqQ28VBAtQ37awvq-t3lgQmogJFQwLGsmXdBpBaLaL9c/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVDo3GwpqlBYNQ5CGpNNhUBtwog7CnetyJ9yrkDPKTs5YPx4C1niXPN4GoFgkoG_4vO4-e2rMEeJ7vIrYDSdDgY9T2BNNs7xaqQ28VBAtQ37awvq-t3lgQmogJFQwLGsmXdBpBaLaL9c/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664194609964700226" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span>, like <span style="font-style: italic;">King Kong</span> before it, uses the monster to physicalize a deep-rooted or pertinent fear within humanity. It explores the fears surrounding nuclear war, or more general fears about a seemingly unbeatable weapon. Gojira is characterised as an ancient monster, somewhere between Jules Verne and H. P. Lovecraft, rudely awakened from its long slumber by the nuclear tests. It is simultaneously a symbol of nuclear war itself, the unforeseen consequences or fallout (in both senses), and a physicalisation of the dark, self-preserving aggression at the heart of every human being.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTmPTE3SD7VHMEMtyL5gJjHlqVkugNA0OdrK-VFt5Lbw9tNaLqQs0ODYMdnNWllxktuHO8gFSaQVtYs3ESbYjdWPAT-w5BqJdyhmS27qN5YkUrhmps3qM3fUWHeCiLO_kLy32LDFVfaM/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTmPTE3SD7VHMEMtyL5gJjHlqVkugNA0OdrK-VFt5Lbw9tNaLqQs0ODYMdnNWllxktuHO8gFSaQVtYs3ESbYjdWPAT-w5BqJdyhmS27qN5YkUrhmps3qM3fUWHeCiLO_kLy32LDFVfaM/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664193649314940018" border="0" /></a>It is rare that you get a monster movie, then or now, with such thoroughly intelligent subtext. But the film does have a couple of dramatic shortcomings which hamper its ability to convey these ideas. Because the film is constructed like a melodrama, complete with screaming heroines and muscular heroes, there isn't much in the way of tension in the scenes between Gojira's attacks. Whereas <span style="font-style: italic;">The War of the Worlds</span> had moments of real threat, where it seemed like the aliens would win, <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span> always has a feeling of certainty about its outcome which is only partially mitigated by the old man's warnings at the end. Character development is in rather short supply, something which even Akira Ifukube's great soundtrack can't make up for.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXAvuDYJDF3Ga6w1LpYzmLDDsWXNMahKdTK6l0-r5WMLwGJ8LMCnFBpQzquxYhOsdLwpgXhk9lfDUpBwMCdnfxvU-zmN5Aqh24_L7aW8ZSQFUMEutctwR23zshO8DDlE2FCdQHmYWZ-2I/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXAvuDYJDF3Ga6w1LpYzmLDDsWXNMahKdTK6l0-r5WMLwGJ8LMCnFBpQzquxYhOsdLwpgXhk9lfDUpBwMCdnfxvU-zmN5Aqh24_L7aW8ZSQFUMEutctwR23zshO8DDlE2FCdQHmYWZ-2I/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664193435989810290" border="0" /></a>Considering its budget and the development of special effects, <span style="font-style: italic;">Gojira</span> holds up surprisingly well. It is more thought-provoking and emotionally involving than<span style="font-style: italic;"> The War of the Worlds</span>, if nothing else because it holds its nerve and gets the ending right. Its dramatic shortcomings are more or less made up for by the emotional impact of the more harrowing scenes, and the monster itself is pretty convincing. As a film in and of itself it's flawed and ropey in places, and while it can't hold a candle to<span style="font-style: italic;"> King Kong</span> (in either version), it is essential viewing.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=35stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/35stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Verdict: A flawed but memorable monster movie<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-81640496398523731232011-10-12T22:42:00.012+01:002011-10-12T23:09:15.311+01:00FILM REVIEW: The Adjustment Bureau (2011)<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Adjustment Bureau (USA, 2011)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by George Nolfi</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Matt Damon, Emily Blunt, Anthony Mackie, John Slattery</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br />When Ridley Scott showed him the rough cut of <span style="font-style: italic;">Blade Runner</span> just months before he died, Philip K. Dick is said to have remarked: "it is as though you looked inside my head." But not all adaptations of Dick's work have been quite so ecstatically received. For all the ones that have worked (<span style="font-style: italic;">Total Recall</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Minority Report</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">A Scanner Darkly</span>), there have been at least as many that ditched the more thoughtful aspects of Dick's work in favour of chasing and explosions. Adding to <span style="font-style: italic;">Paycheck</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Next</span>, we now have <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span>, which could be the biggest let-down of the year.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikafertM42WRg8HBJC5J6S6d_9B4YT8PvjAw4XXPN8b9VkVkepu3o4E7w2GS67HQAcbabc_j-6xQWWJnR5pg56PhBoS1lGmF5C1CFhMKsbQpYclzpBG_UUhtnsHjXXsd_R5ZIeY2D6E2s/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikafertM42WRg8HBJC5J6S6d_9B4YT8PvjAw4XXPN8b9VkVkepu3o4E7w2GS67HQAcbabc_j-6xQWWJnR5pg56PhBoS1lGmF5C1CFhMKsbQpYclzpBG_UUhtnsHjXXsd_R5ZIeY2D6E2s/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662728704319266594" border="0" /></a>It's not as though <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau </span>doesn't have talent behind it. Emily Blunt has demonstrated her dramatic chops in<span style="font-style: italic;"> My Summer of Love</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Young Victoria</span>, while Matt Damon is fast becoming one of the most reliable screen actors of our time. George Nolfi, who wrote and directed the film, worked as a co-writer on <span style="font-style: italic;">The Bourne Ultimatum</span>, which remains Paul Greengrass' best work. And it is shot by John Toll, who won back-to-back Oscars for his work on<span style="font-style: italic;"> Legends of the Fall</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Braveheart</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtyPJogilMThBzwZhj-y_9u_S-uDM9UTHh_PKzSlGYG5Pm4YnFnqnQUlxESqCJq3wlpGUF3P5zcNgkQ0eXwJC_q3QZqKz5CzM3DQ1leNlOrPrVNeM-Fmvzyg2UUi8CSlgLnyFzG7ly2LE/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtyPJogilMThBzwZhj-y_9u_S-uDM9UTHh_PKzSlGYG5Pm4YnFnqnQUlxESqCJq3wlpGUF3P5zcNgkQ0eXwJC_q3QZqKz5CzM3DQ1leNlOrPrVNeM-Fmvzyg2UUi8CSlgLnyFzG7ly2LE/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662729106639786258" border="0" /></a>With these credentials it would be tempting to brand <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span> as 'Bourne-lite' - or maybe '<span style="font-style: italic;">Inception</span>-lite' due to its science fiction trappings. But to do this would be a great disservice to both films, since <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span> has neither the intellectual rigour nor the heart-stopping, emotional action of these films. In fact, it is everything that those films weren't: flimsily constructed, loosely written, glossy-looking for its own sake and with underdeveloped ideas.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JT8P1gM1Zr0GTiyL8zGgyDo6E2Yw17hrfiIUBHbUu4ThSvK5o1EoTuZptsWYcK3CyHsGH8J1VBQQ4kAxAzsUygNuh6hdQzMihKu-_RNXt3EErkzkQbncG-_wH9CVsvLwqTi08pHPrg8/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 305px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JT8P1gM1Zr0GTiyL8zGgyDo6E2Yw17hrfiIUBHbUu4ThSvK5o1EoTuZptsWYcK3CyHsGH8J1VBQQ4kAxAzsUygNuh6hdQzMihKu-_RNXt3EErkzkQbncG-_wH9CVsvLwqTi08pHPrg8/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662729260386127634" border="0" /></a>What made the later Bourne films so fantastic was the ability of Paul Greengrass to marry the aggressive, hand-held action sequences to believable character drama. <span style="font-style: italic;">The Bourne Ultimatum</span> balanced this perfectly, with none of Jason Bourne's personal quandaries getting lost in or watered down by the spectacular action. Looking at Nolfi's film from a writing point of view, you'd swear that he had written the chase scenes and let Greengrass do the rest. He does not have the skill to marry action and ideas together, creating a film which is at best silly and at worst completely shallow.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipHBH8Y7-1XQuVqWBFyuMNWuxYLskE5V9E2SlQm_eVC9z9Y_hLbA_Uf9kscfP6cFg6h4VTPfmzcGwzINtfJl1VA1djjPKHqH8JCbmTq3OaSoGb9O7A1U5wO1RpeGcLZImLyP-Uo8Z8oE/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipHBH8Y7-1XQuVqWBFyuMNWuxYLskE5V9E2SlQm_eVC9z9Y_hLbA_Uf9kscfP6cFg6h4VTPfmzcGwzINtfJl1VA1djjPKHqH8JCbmTq3OaSoGb9O7A1U5wO1RpeGcLZImLyP-Uo8Z8oE/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662730205248794626" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span> is essentially a perfectly decent, if unremarkable, romantic comedy surrounded by increasingly preposterous elements of science fiction. The central relationship between David and Elise does have a genuine spark about it: the romantic dialogue in Nolfi's screenplay is too witty to have been written by a committee, and both characters feel like rounded human beings with believable jobs and lifestyles. We enjoy the company of Damon and Blunt because their emotional responses seem believable, increasingly a rarity in Hollywood rom-coms.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0g67ZX-pywgzJe-8CkmciPaHiykKIcae0ZJdG3z13zfahgEllGY2Oyl6pRmbhL4jXBBM0jFOC_iW3lgQBr4YOaMqgxXk4sz2POVmPppRUDOSXrdY9DadwalMHaieJPZ0mZ799XCxqlm4/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0g67ZX-pywgzJe-8CkmciPaHiykKIcae0ZJdG3z13zfahgEllGY2Oyl6pRmbhL4jXBBM0jFOC_iW3lgQBr4YOaMqgxXk4sz2POVmPppRUDOSXrdY9DadwalMHaieJPZ0mZ799XCxqlm4/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662730331441912562" border="0" /></a>Normally, this kind of frothy concoction would do absolutely fine. But the science fiction elements, which provide the backdrop and keep breaking into the plot, cause the more contrived moments in the relationship to become magnified. Having David give up on Elise, only to have him realise he loves her and run across a city to find her, would work perfectly well on its own. But when you have David running across the city through secret doors, which he can only pass through while wearing a trilby, it very quickly becomes ludicrous, like a bad mash-up of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Graduate</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Tron</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8u10AA-WOCJ1H5-URMMksZU4K6S4leBlwc0yQH5410d5bOXJ67YhPnjAy6py9MYMeU1ndZuHcnp4Nv4uMg4QK4gAOodje5btKescoFtSpybaFf5zNp2Vqkl6dEp7MMXWCArKOZ5EHhIE/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 305px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8u10AA-WOCJ1H5-URMMksZU4K6S4leBlwc0yQH5410d5bOXJ67YhPnjAy6py9MYMeU1ndZuHcnp4Nv4uMg4QK4gAOodje5btKescoFtSpybaFf5zNp2Vqkl6dEp7MMXWCArKOZ5EHhIE/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662729893039762818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span> does attempt to raise a number of interesting questions about fate, chance and free will, subjects which are staples not only of science fiction but of Dick's work in particular. At the centre of the film is a discussion about whether human beings are free to choose how they live their lives, or whether we are simply actors reading lines off a script which has already been written (and re-written). The film strikes an interesting balance between the two, saying that while humanity's behaviour is constantly 'adjusted', it is not possible for the Bureau to be everywhere at once or stop every bad thing from happening. They even go so far as to admit that certain things are entirely down to chance, although it isn't specified where exactly the lines are drawn.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit11E_2peX705L2V3g2RL1hjKoCiFPwtKqz1jKHiRYY1QJujh9IH8gnl_2a3L11-LmCmaCqAkle0r93ZInRor65F4H-fNMqB8gvWV_qz0IXzlLBI0qGwNDtQHrAf2MztjCPajVhSn9W2s/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit11E_2peX705L2V3g2RL1hjKoCiFPwtKqz1jKHiRYY1QJujh9IH8gnl_2a3L11-LmCmaCqAkle0r93ZInRor65F4H-fNMqB8gvWV_qz0IXzlLBI0qGwNDtQHrAf2MztjCPajVhSn9W2s/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662730078703623154" border="0" /></a>The film does a pretty good job of demonstrating the cost of free will - or, from the Bureau's point of view, the advantages of intervention. Terence Stamp's character delivers a speech similar to Al Pacino's in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Devil's Advocate</span>, about how Mankind has taken itself to the brink whenever 'the Chairman' has taken a hands-off approach (for instance, the Dark Ages and the Cold War). The film retunes Dick's paranoia surrounding big corporations (and Hollywood) to a more abstract moral dilemma, in which the Chairman is God and his hatted assistants are interceding angels, keeping Humanity on the straight and narrow at the cost of there being no genuine free will.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWKM_OoxDoR8lfrgpD6IjgAn7jN4u8uTwzxHIU39aMEw3_KltDYsrWOu84DreFpMdOvS39Pdfq4COyvIabWeHnd-COiyVOypiPi_EE2Jt4ThZ6okRrwWsypBpjDpGpMdP1PYtXyuNFr4/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 305px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWKM_OoxDoR8lfrgpD6IjgAn7jN4u8uTwzxHIU39aMEw3_KltDYsrWOu84DreFpMdOvS39Pdfq4COyvIabWeHnd-COiyVOypiPi_EE2Jt4ThZ6okRrwWsypBpjDpGpMdP1PYtXyuNFr4/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662729565270567042" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span> attempts to retune this concept further to look at the course of true love. The central relationship, between a congressman and a ballerina, follows the trajectory of most American rom-coms: all sorts of obstacles are created to push them apart, but we always know that they will somehow end up together. <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span> doesn't deviate from this mould, but what it does do is offer a twist on why such obstacles occur. Rather than being the result of personal attitudes or quirkiness, the obstacles faced by Damon and Blunt are created by the powers-that-be, whether God or - to go all Pirandello for a second - the writers themselves.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdNO6LOf66dShRjsGd_ZvVSplbLmsjcQ6EdzE3weX75cRcvuc5uTXGtoTa6iaC_Uxw2gWXcKR6zW1kme9UZw_SBjl19FNlvR2ZU32Zufp2QEX671TfdtVIUHzUADNLW3Aqs-DUqDZtFkI/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdNO6LOf66dShRjsGd_ZvVSplbLmsjcQ6EdzE3weX75cRcvuc5uTXGtoTa6iaC_Uxw2gWXcKR6zW1kme9UZw_SBjl19FNlvR2ZU32Zufp2QEX671TfdtVIUHzUADNLW3Aqs-DUqDZtFkI/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662729781473796482" border="0" /></a>Unfortunately, there are two gigantic problems with the manner in which<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Adjustment Bureau </span>tackles these ideas. The first is that it is very literal-minded, and fails to bring out the moral dilemmas without resorting to blatant plot exposition. Terrence Stamp's character is effectively Basil Exposition in a sharp suit, as though Nolfi thought Stamp was too old to be running around Chicago, telling him to stay in the warehouse and talk to his heart's content.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfj_m4M7P7lk_1wzKxWjGJFkQXbd7im-gc_xWYBnAvsphGcUsyfqY4rubHiPozoA7-PrbgC5G5N9zb5ITEVf3JdQ0OzzcZvpoOVt2y6QteszBKu2YiYAOw4qwIvA421oRe6KJ1NyUau0/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfj_m4M7P7lk_1wzKxWjGJFkQXbd7im-gc_xWYBnAvsphGcUsyfqY4rubHiPozoA7-PrbgC5G5N9zb5ITEVf3JdQ0OzzcZvpoOVt2y6QteszBKu2YiYAOw4qwIvA421oRe6KJ1NyUau0/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662730445004023810" border="0" /></a>Alfred Hitchcock once said that exposition is a pill which must be sugar-coated if the audience is to remain in suspense. If <span style="font-style: italic;">North by Northwest</span> is the epitome of sugar-coating, then <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span> is like a series of big and bitter pills. Whereas <span style="font-style: italic;">Inception</span> introduced the mechanics of the dream-state incrementally, this handles its mechanics like someone repeatedly dropping a sledgehammer. It never has the confidence or foresight to outline exactly how much of what we see is adjusted, and the conversations about the plans are shoved down the audience's throats.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrs-Nht5Tt_S7vkRHClAQDHz1Pc2qhPmMfAs-S8seUVXhqCXtF5I9gK9ys-ZeKjNftG2cFogVZJIeNkZSF3cBXGqKOU6-bdftqjfm4qX66i2-vFh0nRQquOj0-kVqoHh8y4LOL9I4izGU/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrs-Nht5Tt_S7vkRHClAQDHz1Pc2qhPmMfAs-S8seUVXhqCXtF5I9gK9ys-ZeKjNftG2cFogVZJIeNkZSF3cBXGqKOU6-bdftqjfm4qX66i2-vFh0nRQquOj0-kVqoHh8y4LOL9I4izGU/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662730854310126962" border="0" /></a>The second big problem with the films is that it dodges all the big moral questions that follow from its intriguing set-up. Not only does it gloss over where the battle lines are drawn, but its payoff feels far too easy. The lengthy chase sequences in the final act are an excuse to canter through the character development when it really matters, and the rooftop scene finds the script skimming over the philosophical implications of the plan 'being changed'. In its naked pursuit of a happy, feel-good ending, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span> produces the exact opposite emotional response.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9mriM1pYpbqL_mrJr9Nh_1u4jtHn2juO4sZWLySAo0ClKy_lvFGdvPWAeU3g8w_8_a2Q_9-Q03a5pc7s63Vv-XR9CdD0YH3_Sm7cmpjIstEs7IEImgssKD8J-8N17BGXMSxXoHP1u5_8/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9mriM1pYpbqL_mrJr9Nh_1u4jtHn2juO4sZWLySAo0ClKy_lvFGdvPWAeU3g8w_8_a2Q_9-Q03a5pc7s63Vv-XR9CdD0YH3_Sm7cmpjIstEs7IEImgssKD8J-8N17BGXMSxXoHP1u5_8/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662731039349747858" border="0" /></a>The visuals of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau </span>are also guilty of being shallow. John Toll may be a great cinematographer, but under Nolfi's instructions everything is far too glossy: the overabundance of shiny blues and metallic greys make everything look like a shaving advert, or one of George Clooney's coffee commercials. The chase sequences are a blatant excuse to get the ol' green screen out, making the action seem even less physical or believable. At every possible turn there is a pursuit of style over content, and speed over intelligence.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilL3XjyT7bQVqr6k996L3DTe2G7S_wuL0E8rOMxsJmcd-bqHA_Yvat0lsshJ8TbodzQuwKsVYbvgPRYvYmKLkr5gw85ht2MJePkyMPAcZstjQA3vrCFJtUwitseD1FNoHhtR7xyUxbgHQ/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilL3XjyT7bQVqr6k996L3DTe2G7S_wuL0E8rOMxsJmcd-bqHA_Yvat0lsshJ8TbodzQuwKsVYbvgPRYvYmKLkr5gw85ht2MJePkyMPAcZstjQA3vrCFJtUwitseD1FNoHhtR7xyUxbgHQ/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662730629241599986" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Adjustment Bureau</span> is a deeply disappointing film which lacks the depth, nuance or subtlety of the best Philip K. Dick adaptations. In Nolfi's hands what could be a potentially interesting sci-fi romance becomes something flimsy, frothy and ultimately too ridiculous. I would be lying if I said I didn't laugh, either mockingly at the film or out of charm at the central couple. But laughter isn't enough to do justice, either to Dick's material or to the central relationship, resulting in a case of squandered potential that could have been so much more.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=15stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 75px; height: 15px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/15stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Flimsy, frothy and far too ridiculous</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-49941083936125227622011-10-06T23:52:00.014+01:002011-10-07T21:03:55.848+01:00FILM REVIEW: The Others (2001)<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Others (Spain/ France/ Italy/ USA, 2001)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Alejandro Amenabar</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Nicole Kidman, Alakina Mann, James Bentley, Fionnula Flanagan</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br />In my review of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Secret Garden</span>, I said that many films which are held up as British classics are the result of a collaboration between British and international talent - in this case, a Polish director adapting a British book from an American screenplay. It is fitting therefore that the tradition of old-fashioned English and American ghost stories should be most fittingly upheld by an international director, which brings us, (super)naturally, to<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Others</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj181cgQn3EaaJ5aJ15cxOFe7skGPnQJXwwPbF6RlQxbVW3xogerqMxjt40Jhk8mGCo2S6PqXfTguHbhRFoKFHVPmJSTCTgPyJIWDa1oSZkIWLqb8RIBDhBinGNpE7LR25KsErL8bvBgs/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj181cgQn3EaaJ5aJ15cxOFe7skGPnQJXwwPbF6RlQxbVW3xogerqMxjt40Jhk8mGCo2S6PqXfTguHbhRFoKFHVPmJSTCTgPyJIWDa1oSZkIWLqb8RIBDhBinGNpE7LR25KsErL8bvBgs/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660840125216268050" border="0" /></a>At its most basic level, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Others</span> is a stylish and evocative throwback to the classic Victorian ghost stories, which in turn formed the basis for 1960s horror classics like <span style="font-style: italic;">The Haunting</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Innocents</span>. Like the latter of these films, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Others</span> has its roots in Henry James' renowned novella<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Turn of the Screw</span>: both revolve around children whom, it is suggested, can interact with a world beyond our own. There are also hints of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Shining</span> in the use of panning shots throughout the house, and in several of the music cues. Alejandro Amenabar borrows from Wendy Carlos in his use of deliberate anti-climaxes following by deep terror.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjEv3W9f4fks0P3T7svCGa_yOYmpEzIJRVNeBbr6YPWUZIWWbFidQnSD-hz8GMHVdiPcqVa3424zA6OK3zQHdzVoyCZPEbmkbxe-n1W3PjoMefVWSxl_BA0JPKuw7zhV8fOQ1wRZKHCBg/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 302px; height: 167px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjEv3W9f4fks0P3T7svCGa_yOYmpEzIJRVNeBbr6YPWUZIWWbFidQnSD-hz8GMHVdiPcqVa3424zA6OK3zQHdzVoyCZPEbmkbxe-n1W3PjoMefVWSxl_BA0JPKuw7zhV8fOQ1wRZKHCBg/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660841102728344274" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Others</span> takes place on the Channel Island of Jersey just after the Second World War. The setting is interesting due to the cultural differences between the Islands and mainland Britain, and the fact that they were occupied by the Germans (although Nicole Kidman is keen to point out that none of them made it to the house). Amenabar exploits these differences to quickly create an unsettling, 'other-worldly' feel: we recognise all the hallmarks of 1940s fashion and architecture, but they are so precisely and readily positioned that something doesn't seem right.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9Nm9z9JuVjFc5raaeJxNqGpH6ZYOXPPwnBgXQj7q3GRhsymq7PFnPFQ47SrcCfObHdNMjO1xHaBJe_m0akHuOsMV5THB_ptjEKPX-U_eo7-edaFKG9NelsANaFUiF92P2Crfbwywuq0/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 272px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9Nm9z9JuVjFc5raaeJxNqGpH6ZYOXPPwnBgXQj7q3GRhsymq7PFnPFQ47SrcCfObHdNMjO1xHaBJe_m0akHuOsMV5THB_ptjEKPX-U_eo7-edaFKG9NelsANaFUiF92P2Crfbwywuq0/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660840820001034658" border="0" /></a>The film evokes the immediate post-war period very effectively. Although the majority of shooting was done in Spain, the house feels British in every detail. The ornate and elegance furniture, the empty, echoing halls, the pale but elaborate costumes - it is almost too perfect in its recreation of wartime Britain. The film has a very pale visual palette to underscore the age of the characters' environment and the sense of personal and national exhaustion. Javier Aguirresarobe, who later shot <span style="font-style: italic;">The Road</span>, contrasts light and dark to such an extent that it almost feels like sepia, hinting at the chilling revelations lurking in the old photographs.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-TyEKKdwEMYyZAJpvJfLtjLzfr5DddGXnvVmWlUhsh4dYnk9XULSRuwuvLUmrJ17GKov5IBdysjQUd_sN-je77ye3junvCkhf8pTmWGATWGst85JELICkywA2BoACAWN36ZhU0iUVeU/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 278px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-TyEKKdwEMYyZAJpvJfLtjLzfr5DddGXnvVmWlUhsh4dYnk9XULSRuwuvLUmrJ17GKov5IBdysjQUd_sN-je77ye3junvCkhf8pTmWGATWGst85JELICkywA2BoACAWN36ZhU0iUVeU/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660840924209064194" border="0" /></a>Because of its affection for classic cinematic ghost stories, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Others</span> does contain a fair number of familiar elements. The elderly housekeeper may be much nicer than Mrs. Danvers, but she still has ulterior motives and secrets to hide. In a further reference to <span style="font-style: italic;">Rebecca</span> (which itself borrowed heavily from <span style="font-style: italic;">Jane Eyre</span>), one of the key plot twists concerns the contents or inhabitants of an attic. The use of fog as a meeting point between this world and the next borrows not only from John Carpenter's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Fog</span> but from gothic horror: Susan Hill's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Woman in Black</span> is set in a house cut off by marshland, and the title character first appears after the fog comes in.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQihaNRVI8FIvPULq9roM3Z1FKRQ_KaonshZlc5MZ1QVPzPbjL8mqk2x5EXr8EnXPLIiTg0-E-OX5In14N10Mcldw6ThfrNfFPE3aO4Jqmfgk9ST_IUyszxdbBFFOwJ4r0E-_yJntMgI/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQihaNRVI8FIvPULq9roM3Z1FKRQ_KaonshZlc5MZ1QVPzPbjL8mqk2x5EXr8EnXPLIiTg0-E-OX5In14N10Mcldw6ThfrNfFPE3aO4Jqmfgk9ST_IUyszxdbBFFOwJ4r0E-_yJntMgI/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660840429903629362" border="0" /></a>With so many familiar elements in play, there comes a point where the film has to make its own mark on the genre. It takes a while for it to do so, but it eventually achieves this through both technical proficiency and the substance of its storyline. On a technical level, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Others</span> is very creepy. Amenabar uses the pale cinematography and period dressing to play up all the creaks and shadows (and there are a lot of shadows), and he achieves two really big jumps: one with the door closing on Nicole Kidman's face, the other involving the old woman and the cupboard where the children are hiding.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kx2nhB_Ay-qHMmV9-EwjR5opGHkHyMiXJ-M65VQW_3r_lTYrlnQ_FqtMQ-LfoUNkEsgOjuY7H6JX9mE1ZnNT8-nR4kdj_enGa9HCfK4WKjTsHEOojaahaOY-pMOl_e7M8hIG-2B9w9I/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kx2nhB_Ay-qHMmV9-EwjR5opGHkHyMiXJ-M65VQW_3r_lTYrlnQ_FqtMQ-LfoUNkEsgOjuY7H6JX9mE1ZnNT8-nR4kdj_enGa9HCfK4WKjTsHEOojaahaOY-pMOl_e7M8hIG-2B9w9I/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660840552503346690" border="0" /></a>Like all great ghost stories, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Others</span> makes you question whether or not you saw something, and what that something might have been. It shares with <span style="font-style: italic;">The Haunting</span> and<span style="font-style: italic;"> The Innocents </span>the device of a central female protagonist who, in one interpretation, has gone completely round the twist. The film establishes Grace as the audience's guide, using her strict values and sense of conviction to unnerve us. During the opening act, her character is set up as someone completely orderly and in control, in contrast to Nell in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Haunting</span>, who was always a little on edge. Hence when the strange noises start to occur, we experience either the act of someone going mad or Grace's genuine shock at seeing her values so deeply questioned.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QhhJSHgfve4CEQ3CQTttupM-Ljkr2QJ4V-qfZwMM7fUNqzMFfO3ULmflWGzMT_jsZjOX2jznG1gKfaWw6p_HI2OtyIBTn6H1-tEJIf96vwjNc97uIK-gYTGs-4hQuQh8cGePisCr9v0/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 305px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QhhJSHgfve4CEQ3CQTttupM-Ljkr2QJ4V-qfZwMM7fUNqzMFfO3ULmflWGzMT_jsZjOX2jznG1gKfaWw6p_HI2OtyIBTn6H1-tEJIf96vwjNc97uIK-gYTGs-4hQuQh8cGePisCr9v0/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660840306897368562" border="0" /></a>Whereas <span style="font-style: italic;">The Haunting</span> explored possible scientific explanations for the strange goings-on in a dark house, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Others</span> is primarily concerned with the role that religion plays in dealing with or understanding the world beyond this. Grace remarks early in the film that she "doesn't like fantasies": she is a staunch Catholic who takes literally both the teachings of the Bible and, even more so, the Church's views on purgatory. The film's view of religion is mixed - faith in the afterlife is rewarded, while the dogma to which Grace clings turns out not to be enough.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcQsbfsZ95dYzDS4fERdwONGoDPXQHh8BIGkxVH_c7VnAsD9XN3Jh0HS3ffICuerwLwxh_qrySiC4wZn62Fn8XIoDSonkGzw0mgH7QQHbByxziZVr-LBxSubU3LPkudfwhjMHUnvvdqQ/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 245px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcQsbfsZ95dYzDS4fERdwONGoDPXQHh8BIGkxVH_c7VnAsD9XN3Jh0HS3ffICuerwLwxh_qrySiC4wZn62Fn8XIoDSonkGzw0mgH7QQHbByxziZVr-LBxSubU3LPkudfwhjMHUnvvdqQ/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660841358220508386" border="0" /></a>When Grace's religious outlook interacts with those of her children, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Others </span>drifts closer to the work of Guillermo del Toro, who directed his own ghost story in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Devil's Backbone</span> and would later produce <span style="font-style: italic;">The Orphanage</span>. An underlying theme of del Toro's work is that of children being able to connect with another world, with some underlying force which adults have chosen to ignore or dismiss outright. When Grace's children say that they don't believe all that they have been taught about God and the afterlife, it's not simply a reflection of a lack of faith. It is a sign that they see the truth, the horrifying magic which Grace denies or avoids; as Roald Dahl wrote in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Minpins</span>, "those who don't believe in magic will never find it".<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmx6ZUabtU6jngfj0xNOQUWmPEddKaXXN5_pMqavaKs7u79FmfV7wdND7uXwmO9llUAhOtD9JXcpW0znqWFyI64XUpcNrGd2KepJWRx9SPwc1xzFxkbPlW60XpFFK_3yxKTmRN1tP98-Y/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmx6ZUabtU6jngfj0xNOQUWmPEddKaXXN5_pMqavaKs7u79FmfV7wdND7uXwmO9llUAhOtD9JXcpW0znqWFyI64XUpcNrGd2KepJWRx9SPwc1xzFxkbPlW60XpFFK_3yxKTmRN1tP98-Y/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660840672577918338" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Others</span> is very smart in tricking us over where the boundaries between the living and the dead lie. In light of its final twist, the reunion between Grace and her husband (Christopher Eccleston) gains an added layer of poignancy; the joy and subsequent strain of reunion becomes overladen with grief and despair. Like <span style="font-style: italic;">The Shining</span>, the film suggests that portions of individuals' souls are imparted into a location or building which has significance in their life, and that after death their spirit returns, as if one's life were recurring in eternity with all by way of meaning plain to see.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMd8sslo0EZxyE2Yp2ul6CrrZqbD2GI-1NIGtapDqPq0IK-mStNy5nS0FER8ThAE8OLHY4DNt5Fv2MAulW8hT9fe_Ot06oX8KdZUlLRRbCT_rq1gQayWhA53oU0-MDz3A56I9YsafIWMk/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMd8sslo0EZxyE2Yp2ul6CrrZqbD2GI-1NIGtapDqPq0IK-mStNy5nS0FER8ThAE8OLHY4DNt5Fv2MAulW8hT9fe_Ot06oX8KdZUlLRRbCT_rq1gQayWhA53oU0-MDz3A56I9YsafIWMk/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660841486577781778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Others </span>is also boosted by its great performances. It finds Nicole Kidman in her prime, following up her excellent work in <span style="font-style: italic;">Moulin Rouge!</span> the same year. She has often been criticised for being brittle, but here it is entirely appropriate that she be highly strung: her character is very close to Deborah Kerr's in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Innocents</span>, and she delivers a performance which is almost on a par with that. There are also great performances by the two child actors: Alakina Mann is terrific as the impetuous Anne, and is matched beautifully by James Bentley, who later played Geoffrey Rush's son in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Life and Death of Peter Sellers</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0mxE8_8JI-C6DZUzT_LpbML-JSdXVXCXIv0TjSBK48za3iZr2tkIervOgCUKlCKf6d5hg62bBO4uLOViPGvnk3FtOgh1FOwNTj5qtXQLuv4kk2LEzTLSRvGP4WlIdWOWoqDYS0B0Q8NA/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0mxE8_8JI-C6DZUzT_LpbML-JSdXVXCXIv0TjSBK48za3iZr2tkIervOgCUKlCKf6d5hg62bBO4uLOViPGvnk3FtOgh1FOwNTj5qtXQLuv4kk2LEzTLSRvGP4WlIdWOWoqDYS0B0Q8NA/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660841218384700242" border="0" /></a>There are a couple of flaws with <span style="font-style: italic;">The Others</span>. Although its ideas are interesting and thoroughly explored, it remains just a little too generic: it doesn't develop or advance the genre in the way that del Toro's efforts have done. It is a little too long, being very slow at the beginning and predictable towards the end. And in the scenes involving the medium, it treads a fine line between creepiness and <span style="font-style: italic;">Blithe Spirit</span>, with the deadpan delivery of the medium's observers threatening to tip us over that line.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioduhc31xRZC7WkYqLGZR2RWqpYwpdFjx2_uCYcxUuRcvfxiUCGeq12Th4bf33ePlv_Hy51ghHuECHn5ZIpnhMPmbFuLk04S_8ZyK8J2-oq0tt_bZxo65lT1l9WmnPPIetgXXvLEZDUe4/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 273px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioduhc31xRZC7WkYqLGZR2RWqpYwpdFjx2_uCYcxUuRcvfxiUCGeq12Th4bf33ePlv_Hy51ghHuECHn5ZIpnhMPmbFuLk04S_8ZyK8J2-oq0tt_bZxo65lT1l9WmnPPIetgXXvLEZDUe4/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660840196194277202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Others </span>is a stylish and creepy retuning of a classic ghost story. In spite of its flaws it still delivers a satisfying amount of substance and shivers, which have not decreased in the decade since its twist was first revealed. Kidman and her child co-stars are on scintillating form, matched by solid support work from Eccleston and a 78-year-old Eric Sykes. Though it has since been eclipsed by <span style="font-style: italic;">The Orphanage</span>, it still has the power to chill.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=4stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/4stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Chilling if a tad generic<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-18825787203708552832011-10-02T22:18:00.015+01:002011-10-03T10:33:49.894+01:00FILM REVIEW: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (2011)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (UK/ France, 2011)<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directed by Tomas Alfredson</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring Gary Oldman, Colin Firth, Tom Hardy, John Hurt</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br />You could be forgiven for approaching <span style="font-style: italic;">Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy</span> with some degree of trepidation. So many European filmmakers, who rocked the world with their first few features, went the way of the dodo after they started working in the English language. And considering just how good <span style="font-style: italic;">Let The Right One In</span> was, you find yourself almost begging that Tomas Alfredson hasn't gone the way of Wolfgang Petersen.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTzkSh_Ch8DKJ8CE0kE26B3Y_PbTawyvtMrtQp29WZzo1oXcZiLnCCh4TAUqf1itEZomIK25Kgeo5Ks9zubcNGKq59MExBQ7Qh2nseqHXr6KyDIIZGVrTnTvZgTPe36ka1FlTZZUR7q4/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTzkSh_Ch8DKJ8CE0kE26B3Y_PbTawyvtMrtQp29WZzo1oXcZiLnCCh4TAUqf1itEZomIK25Kgeo5Ks9zubcNGKq59MExBQ7Qh2nseqHXr6KyDIIZGVrTnTvZgTPe36ka1FlTZZUR7q4/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659194493203723922" border="0" /></a>O, we of little faith. Within minutes of his second film beginning, Alfredson has laid all such fears to rest, allowing us to enjoy one of the very best films of 2011. His adaptation of John Le Carré's highly regarded novel is as distinctive and artistic as his debut, packing in a gallery of superb performances within a perfectly rendered period setting. While it never entirely hits the heights of <span style="font-style: italic;">Let The Right One In</span>, it is a more-than-worthy follow-up from a director who seemingly can do no wrong.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxPaMxEP17zeaFnbIT5zJbB7t5HnNhjwujyJos1swVSnurb9XKg7b-i6FbYXKasfKxkGpBqRN5BSx8Le99Mal7sqWsfe_P80EzjAmfM7ZTR8_NtVbUQzeZbISjSkm26It5YdhAc2LhQT8/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxPaMxEP17zeaFnbIT5zJbB7t5HnNhjwujyJos1swVSnurb9XKg7b-i6FbYXKasfKxkGpBqRN5BSx8Le99Mal7sqWsfe_P80EzjAmfM7ZTR8_NtVbUQzeZbISjSkm26It5YdhAc2LhQT8/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659193493724337186" border="0" /></a>For starters, <span style="font-style: italic;">Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy</span> is truly beautiful to behold. Alfredson reunites with cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema to create a highly evocative portrait of 1970s London. The screen is awash with faded greens and blues, and many scenes are shot partially or wholly in shadow to underscore the murky dealings that are afoot in the Circus. There is a perfect balance between artistic license and authenticity, creating a world which is both unique and instantly recognisable.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5gTR5IZAfcQiNEKRzSG1qwyMaXgBDYav2bS1WOsCVCTiqURNBSIczCZlX-96trY1Mi2NQugosDe5Ag_nHgLbrkJUmEt0wSfsAF4uxP1VNEBayhPpJyqZ69qN0VOfAACzFzd1aTehrdD0/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5gTR5IZAfcQiNEKRzSG1qwyMaXgBDYav2bS1WOsCVCTiqURNBSIczCZlX-96trY1Mi2NQugosDe5Ag_nHgLbrkJUmEt0wSfsAF4uxP1VNEBayhPpJyqZ69qN0VOfAACzFzd1aTehrdD0/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659196346131120866" border="0" /></a>Not only is Alfredson's vision of London so visually outstanding, it is also culturally nuanced. He identifies three separate cultures uneasily co-existing, evoking and demonstrating them through intelligent choices of music. We have the recent past, embodied by Tom Hardy's character, which is like a paler rendition of Life on Mars, complete with Mudd and David Bowie. We have the recent past, namely the 1960s, which is reflected in the <span style="font-style: italic;">Breathless</span>-like scenes between Hardy and the girl in the convertible. And we have the Circus itself, which seems completely unchanged from the 1940s, or possibly earlier than that, as typified by the inclusion of a George Formby record when one of MI5's agents makes a call from a music shop.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghieJXXBq5ALIAfjUTC90_KIYcmjTLECcLeFnfvqNUZOCgT1xNjPKlt-ApUa6RF8_LlHfDU1HmV5yZLHax1ttYwms1FqDyNQdLwEDDpExWY_GJawYosY7AyTHmYfgzaYGUC1cjCd9AzSU/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghieJXXBq5ALIAfjUTC90_KIYcmjTLECcLeFnfvqNUZOCgT1xNjPKlt-ApUa6RF8_LlHfDU1HmV5yZLHax1ttYwms1FqDyNQdLwEDDpExWY_GJawYosY7AyTHmYfgzaYGUC1cjCd9AzSU/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659193996410799554" border="0" /></a>In Alfredson's hands, <span style="font-style: italic;">Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy</span> becomes a film about malaise and ennui. It depicts a Britain which is past its glory, not only as an imperial power but as an intelligence force: not only can it no longer conquer countries, but it is increasingly incapable of holding on to their secrets. The Circus increasingly positions itself as a buffer zone, refusing to admit reliance upon its American "cousins" and contenting itself with gathering intelligence about Soviet activity in Europe.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_w-7gawMR_Y4tdHnZdCWWz815kVEJkIRu0F1mHo-we35BmVg-EvbfTh374mYL5xDr8n_ERy3loLG2Xa9Tb0kDo-hIQL8CC3Ru874QI4yv4E-6v5T0EVzQmUjMFuWOUitSAqaHWfsvAo/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_w-7gawMR_Y4tdHnZdCWWz815kVEJkIRu0F1mHo-we35BmVg-EvbfTh374mYL5xDr8n_ERy3loLG2Xa9Tb0kDo-hIQL8CC3Ru874QI4yv4E-6v5T0EVzQmUjMFuWOUitSAqaHWfsvAo/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659195079878200978" border="0" /></a>The Circus is depicted as the very definition of old-fashioned. If there wasn't a close-up on the ticker-tape showing it was 1973, you would swear that this was the War Office and we were still fighting the Germans. All of the furniture, from the wooden chairs to the Bakelite phones, seems left over from the war, and in the libraries you can almost smell the dust on the shelves. It feels like an organisation built upon self-denial - a collection of people who continue existing without any real reason for doing so. Without any 'proper' wars left to fight, everything Britain stands for has become redundant, and no-one, not even Smiley, is willing to admit it.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtHCPaD5in9IprIxPFOIpSY1xFowDJcCVvWnRe2FQ_o3SOKu-Dz5EuWYfBHWUoOXvKpY5qsZD8u_ZwSmRiktFe4E-yORA88MkxqISoL3Jro9gg9djJyAV0lmxaLkq0iv7PkrYAocEmdw/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 285px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtHCPaD5in9IprIxPFOIpSY1xFowDJcCVvWnRe2FQ_o3SOKu-Dz5EuWYfBHWUoOXvKpY5qsZD8u_ZwSmRiktFe4E-yORA88MkxqISoL3Jro9gg9djJyAV0lmxaLkq0iv7PkrYAocEmdw/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659195957230263490" border="0" /></a>In the best possible way, the film is very slow-paced for a thriller. It would be totally inappropriate to tell Le Carré's story through <span style="font-style: italic;">Bourne</span>-style shaky-cam and rapid editing, because the material and the technology surrounding it is does not have a 2011 sensibility. This is still an analogue world, in which conversations are transcribed off reel-to-reel tape recorders, bugs are hidden in lampshades, and people signal through flashlights and banging on walls.<br /><br />The film is also old-fashioned (in a good way) by its methodical patience. With the exception of Control's outburst or Jim Prideaux beign shot, the conversations in <span style="font-style: italic;">Tinker, Tailor</span> are quiet and considered, containing nothing that could be classed as histrionic. Smiley doesn't speak for the first fifteen minutes, and even when he is interrogating the Magic Circle he never shouts: he takes time to phrase his questions, refusing to give anything away and ensuring that he need not repeat himself.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhoiBkycPlcyoaie2LAGc9OSykCN9nkW-Mr2uifpXe4fehknEB_nWMyusOqlWD1BNi7oU9WuPac0QclGNWExPJTqY9tLlgnDl9wXykAf4vzWJNxzK7Gd14i6lP9k69qk2PiPb6e0CktU/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhoiBkycPlcyoaie2LAGc9OSykCN9nkW-Mr2uifpXe4fehknEB_nWMyusOqlWD1BNi7oU9WuPac0QclGNWExPJTqY9tLlgnDl9wXykAf4vzWJNxzK7Gd14i6lP9k69qk2PiPb6e0CktU/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659195469201171362" border="0" /></a>You could argue that this understatement and emphasis on method over movement is another period detail; because modern espionage is built around the internet, it makes sense for the camera to move faster and for things to be more action-packed. But it's also a reflection of Le Carré's sensibility. Where his contemporary Ian Fleming was drawn to the glamour of spying, Le Carré sought to dismantle all such illusions, emphasising the loneliness of spying and the moral ambiguity of the protagonists.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6_XgaMQbqG2E3A_yq4_qwUfl7yC17UXvctNkbxisqNv7m6iQ9wN8FR_BBFojqsjEoSfD3_cSKvs5pMDzyXbkQ3Ov_cWKMDL_GhyGuTy2HxVHRm-QfVbQuzuiFIBnaNqh8OUIzDAWQMU/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6_XgaMQbqG2E3A_yq4_qwUfl7yC17UXvctNkbxisqNv7m6iQ9wN8FR_BBFojqsjEoSfD3_cSKvs5pMDzyXbkQ3Ov_cWKMDL_GhyGuTy2HxVHRm-QfVbQuzuiFIBnaNqh8OUIzDAWQMU/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659195679756452466" border="0" /></a>If a James Bond film is like a shooting gallery intercut with car chases, <span style="font-style: italic;">Tinker, Tailor</span> is like a tricky game of chess. It is a film about characters who are in the endgame: they see the doom of their organisation approaching, and it is a question of when and not if they will be dragged down with it. After Control and Smiley are forced out (with the former dying soon after), it becomes a scramble for power with Percy Alleline emerging as the leader. We follow Smiley as he navigates through the mind-games to uncover the mole - to find the king whom he will trap in an elaborate mate.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WvNhnUc_osY2ZaS4LcH2Xa-fbQB2XjBkSpYjjaTOnAzzMEPJo7RIHgFqZR3zwJqM7ORWhZZZKtk2sqy_qt2H0dT7eD_tJgVHkn9s-cxepX0SCi4ZPSnDSmLarfgvgqhbn4VY8qSW1rU/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WvNhnUc_osY2ZaS4LcH2Xa-fbQB2XjBkSpYjjaTOnAzzMEPJo7RIHgFqZR3zwJqM7ORWhZZZKtk2sqy_qt2H0dT7eD_tJgVHkn9s-cxepX0SCi4ZPSnDSmLarfgvgqhbn4VY8qSW1rU/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659195243742812002" border="0" /></a>The inward-looking nature of the Circus is reflected in the understated performances of an extraordinary ensemble cast. In many ensemble films, the cast often compete for attention by out-acting each other, but Alfredson is too smart to put up with any such nonsense. This is a film in which the tiniest little gesture can say everything about a character, whether it's the raise of an eyebrow, the twitch of a lip, or the slightly forced way that Colin Firth smiles at the ghastly Christmas party.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ksooxa6jLvx23wunUzIjgWmgQF8b4Aat1deo6OVt2zDAQKDCSVAPqYGp8-PAKgOs84NL12zL7C2ZrxR9MWUzDbjNCdkrZyN8t26HyiGZtH38RjHj2MOL_re4uK7WVO25bAPCeYbsVl4/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ksooxa6jLvx23wunUzIjgWmgQF8b4Aat1deo6OVt2zDAQKDCSVAPqYGp8-PAKgOs84NL12zL7C2ZrxR9MWUzDbjNCdkrZyN8t26HyiGZtH38RjHj2MOL_re4uK7WVO25bAPCeYbsVl4/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659194876120436034" border="0" /></a>Because the TV adaptation of <span style="font-style: italic;">Tinker, Tailor</span> is so well-regarded, any new adaptation in any medium will have to be compared to it. And for all the brilliance and quality of Alfredson's work, there are a couple of areas in which the TV series has the edge. There is not much between them in terms of cast - Gary Oldman can hold his own against Sir Alec Guinness, and in Colin Firth's current form he is more than a match for Ian Richardson. But in compressing the novel or the series into just over two hours, there are two small flaws with this adaptation.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjij_1Wy_Tuldjs1zvVhZAn3_t1aYNRGVCm6exd52cYZI6qavy-cYGhRaqTmkDsuva-SQzNsO9Si_43xgUpiWfySnbUotO4F9cUBYEq_xjoS8sjPR7rVKKmVHTwRnQGX-BxjpXMT0nRP0E/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjij_1Wy_Tuldjs1zvVhZAn3_t1aYNRGVCm6exd52cYZI6qavy-cYGhRaqTmkDsuva-SQzNsO9Si_43xgUpiWfySnbUotO4F9cUBYEq_xjoS8sjPR7rVKKmVHTwRnQGX-BxjpXMT0nRP0E/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659194279512617202" border="0" /></a>Because the cast is so strong, and charismatic, you find yourself wishing to see more of them, something you do get with the TV series. When you've got someone as radiant as Tom Hardy, or as enigmatic as Benedict Cumberbatch, it doesn't seem fair to give them so little screen time. More to the point, a lot of the rich language of Le Carré's novel has been reduced. Bill Haydon's explanation of why he defected is reduced to a few teary sentences, and Smiley seems to centre in on Hayden relatively quickly. These shortcomings aren't enough to throw the whole film off course, but it does put you in the unusual position of wanting it to be half an hour longer.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiith0OUMGObXEE40kPFi-9wqRlJVC7uVVPciRlL_OaXxr3JQGgfFYx1JyZ1goCw0wtDQZiSkUf2h2Yuq-DYsFidix6OCaVGJm4osO9QJTLJ159hnjm3Sx4LoxENq9uc4kvzz8ZtCe_lks/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 292px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiith0OUMGObXEE40kPFi-9wqRlJVC7uVVPciRlL_OaXxr3JQGgfFYx1JyZ1goCw0wtDQZiSkUf2h2Yuq-DYsFidix6OCaVGJm4osO9QJTLJ159hnjm3Sx4LoxENq9uc4kvzz8ZtCe_lks/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659196549799201154" border="0" /></a>To be fair on Alfredson, he does make up for these tiny shortcomings by bringing out new aspects of the story, particularly the sexual nature of the characters. There are strong indications that Haydon and Prideaux were lovers, from the loaded glances at the Christmas party to the photograph of them together, which Haydon keeps when he raids Prideaux's flat. Haydon is ultimately killed by Prideaux by being shot under the eye: a tear flows from Colin Firth's eye, mingling with blood over the bullet wound, and the camera cuts to Mark Strong, also in tears.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoF5eDnqlgbHoYvqsVcjY3KkDTChqLbJH47GEeKUcmVzAAJTjmtRO5Xv2sQ7Mjs2cxRZFOkCgDkAX_L7ZyrQ3jfS_GoUG48T683R1Cdr1pW5HxooXbkAyFFyc_SvUD5u6xsu73faue3YM/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoF5eDnqlgbHoYvqsVcjY3KkDTChqLbJH47GEeKUcmVzAAJTjmtRO5Xv2sQ7Mjs2cxRZFOkCgDkAX_L7ZyrQ3jfS_GoUG48T683R1Cdr1pW5HxooXbkAyFFyc_SvUD5u6xsu73faue3YM/s320/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659196148148584658" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy</span> is an almost perfect film. Its flaws are so miniscule and yet so clear that they will drive you to the point of frustration. But no amount of lingering on them can detract from its status as one of the year's very best films. The performances are superb, the visuals are extraordinary, and Alfredson directs with a reserve and intelligence which is all too rare in modern filmmaking. A true gem.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=45stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 85px; height: 17px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/45stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Verdict: Almost perfect<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
* <a href="http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/">Click here</a> if you are viewing the blog via Facebook to see the blog with full formatting *</div>Daniel Mumbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08420635084572153150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-654907337795243186.post-88424490762845680152011-10-02T00:11:00.016+01:002011-10-02T16:10:17.350+01:00FILM REVIEW: Kiss of the Spider Woman (1985)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Kiss of the Spider Woman (Brazil/ USA, 1985)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Directed by Hector Babenco</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Starring William Hurt, Raul Julia, Sonia Braga, Jose Lewgoy</span><br /><br />We tend to think of prison dramas as grimly realistic affairs, as typified by <span style="font-style: italic;">Cool Hand Luke</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Midnight Express </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">Escape from Alcatraz</span>. But there are several examples of prison dramas which have blended the harsh realities of life behind bars with elements of the fantastical or spiritual, to create something a lot more uplifting. Nine years before <span style="font-style: italic;">The Shawshank Redemption</span> set the bar very high,<span style="font-style: italic;"> Kiss of the Spider Woman</span> was plumbing the same territory.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDC6JPYzBd5J4ORKghoLLYa9XlEOCc3h1HJPWNWFexvHRaaocLOT-NkLeNSv2_9N2VsQauCio5u5xDiF22MeinQX9vQgNMzo7u_WOdft4hYN5ThyphenhyphenFaEDCN5p8QMgPdvQQqBGhKDbvxJqo/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 273px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDC6JPYzBd5J4ORKghoLLYa9XlEOCc3h1HJPWNWFexvHRaaocLOT-NkLeNSv2_9N2VsQauCio5u5xDiF22MeinQX9vQgNMzo7u_WOdft4hYN5ThyphenhyphenFaEDCN5p8QMgPdvQQqBGhKDbvxJqo/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658906731096830530" border="0" /></a>Although it is at the more fanciful end of the spectrum, <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss of the Spider Woman</span> deserves initial credit for the amount of claustrophobic tension it manages to generate. Most of the action takes place within the four walls of a prison cell, with only occasional cutaways to the prison corridors or the outside world. Hector Babenco shoots Luis and Valentin's living quarters from every possible angle to make us feel hemmed in, and his cinematographer Rodolfo Sanchez completes the effect with poetic, bittersweet lighting. The pale matt colours, stained walls and rain backlit with blue light reinforced the degraded nature of the characters, achieving a similar effect that Alan Parker managed on <span style="font-style: italic;">Birdy</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Angel Heart</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGg46Dub-42-KNozAf0Rbrylp5LH9hDAj-H1IN-bIYGum7rHxnm4NVONPAD91NufBK0dkDrTtFlmnJQFKU4uXhKaZACy0RJgoU0mvRXQPruTA4M-8wnFHglFoTN9IHof2g-ho_8Vo4GVQ/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGg46Dub-42-KNozAf0Rbrylp5LH9hDAj-H1IN-bIYGum7rHxnm4NVONPAD91NufBK0dkDrTtFlmnJQFKU4uXhKaZACy0RJgoU0mvRXQPruTA4M-8wnFHglFoTN9IHof2g-ho_8Vo4GVQ/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658907411819756482" border="0" /></a>Because the film has very few locations or changes in scenery, there is a danger that things could quickly become stagey, something which is reinforced by the source material. Manuel Puig's novel, which later became a play and a Broadway musical, is an often uneasy blend of realism and melodrama which would lend a somewhat histrionic quality to any film version. It is testament to Babenco's skill as a director that he is able to have two often outrageous characters sharing the screen without things ever going over-the-top. If William Hurt was just a little more camp, or Raul Julia just' a little more fiery, then it would feel stagey. But Babenco tells us a lot by showing us relatively little, just he would later do on <span style="font-style: italic;">Ironweed</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOFfA7liH-pAJ6M_g1ra-uneIUkaTo5J4Gu0If-DtHRr4jgObXYYipB6TwbZ69kxnPe3ztGNXKEO8JsC9J1DF8sok2hDr89RmIbQV5R6bE7_OVB1oZJhCsw8YSlL-ZhGOQDMNRM_-1BA/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOFfA7liH-pAJ6M_g1ra-uneIUkaTo5J4Gu0If-DtHRr4jgObXYYipB6TwbZ69kxnPe3ztGNXKEO8JsC9J1DF8sok2hDr89RmIbQV5R6bE7_OVB1oZJhCsw8YSlL-ZhGOQDMNRM_-1BA/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658908525329026498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss of the Spider Woman</span>'s main theme is the conflict between escapism and reality, and to what extent the former can help us understand or tolerate the latter. There is a contrast between Luis' love of old movies and fantasy with the iron will of Valentin, who regards films as bourgeois and a distraction from the concrete goals of his revolutionary beliefs. While Luis revels in the mystique of old Hollywood, remarking that he always wanted to play the heroine, Valentin likens the whole experience to "jerking off" and remarks that "you wouldn't know reality if it stuck a spike up your ass!"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bHwE1J8z5e3zYCUmCMDUjYvplwspH2ikHVGpTnoD6kI60abxSyokV_q4mQGahVX31YZPwEWQBTPamdA2F2VhypE6NgbLebFV60irJEuIW-uBxaRsc225XpNhWPM3mFB4MvrrsMxhaBs/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bHwE1J8z5e3zYCUmCMDUjYvplwspH2ikHVGpTnoD6kI60abxSyokV_q4mQGahVX31YZPwEWQBTPamdA2F2VhypE6NgbLebFV60irJEuIW-uBxaRsc225XpNhWPM3mFB4MvrrsMxhaBs/s320/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658910549801002370" border="0" /></a>Having drawn the battle lines quite clearly, it gradually emerges that Valentin is not as ascetic as he would have us believe. For all his talk of political principles, what really sustains him through his time in prison is the memory of a woman he loved. More specifically, it is a case of forbidden love: the woman in question, called Marta, comes from a privileged background. In a flashback we see him having to choose between the only person his heart desires and the political struggle to which he has committed himself. Knowing full well he can never have her, he escapes into the few happy memories he has of her, and the film ends with him imagining their reunion.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IM7bLpkuRg8VSFmVkX3P7oY4XaHUQnVfvoD9F2XGly116pLo_g0NHE0IqD4fVRq3xamAzmU9pUN0cq-W-Rb9uhFBepUUk9bJ20igp2IR5otH3jy7dvIAr6PX041aY1tY0DfmL6kIGHQ/s1600/8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IM7bLpkuRg8VSFmVkX3P7oY4XaHUQnVfvoD9F2XGly116pLo_g0NHE0IqD4fVRq3xamAzmU9pUN0cq-W-Rb9uhFBepUUk9bJ20igp2IR5otH3jy7dvIAr6PX041aY1tY0DfmL6kIGHQ/s320/8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658909851481517074" border="0" /></a>The story of Luis' movie comes to mirror their circumstances in the cell, a further indication of the role of escapism in dealing with reality. The glamorous and frightened cabaret singer is Luis, who 'falls in love' with the enemy (the governors of the prison) to betray his countryman and equal (Valentin). This is a device found throughout Puig's work: <span style="font-style: italic;">Betrayed by Rita Hayworth</span> explores the validity of Hollywood movies as a guide to living a life ungoverned by church or state, while <span style="font-style: italic;">Eternal Curse on the Reader of These Pages</span> find two men re-enacting melodramatic scenes to find each other's identity.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtOOUMj8DvVAP5Iuzf26_OzWuIoP_HyXJiu8dTuZERyGs9cDRlhdgK4Pm4hcs8MOruxWaMKZILsjQHzXK8TETfI0NOYJjm65ggsVMw8HuY1NrKOKHwZ_nsmhHzDU_IgVPiQ-8_eloXtX4/s1600/6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtOOUMj8DvVAP5Iuzf26_OzWuIoP_HyXJiu8dTuZERyGs9cDRlhdgK4Pm4hcs8MOruxWaMKZILsjQHzXK8TETfI0NOYJjm65ggsVMw8HuY1NrKOKHwZ_nsmhHzDU_IgVPiQ-8_eloXtX4/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658909140569091922" border="0" /></a>The melodramatic nature of the story reflects both Luis' character traits and, more sinisterly, his intentions towards Valentin. At the beginning we believe that it's all escapist nonsense, too preposterous to require much attention, let alone get angry about. When the accusations come about the film being Nazi propaganda, we brush them off initially as empty rhetoric, but soon the parallels become clearer and we begin to think again.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg82scpatKPf7LCEfROuSbtCODtmRtgie_UoNIzelplt0PWfDC1sQJoERafltQTF8L1ZBk2brDm2v_Co8HSQQGGSR3Q0vXTz_4X04C6R3m6NiqesEWlG6ushYNQCKFAerq4b2x-wPl2Zl8/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg82scpatKPf7LCEfROuSbtCODtmRtgie_UoNIzelplt0PWfDC1sQJoERafltQTF8L1ZBk2brDm2v_Co8HSQQGGSR3Q0vXTz_4X04C6R3m6NiqesEWlG6ushYNQCKFAerq4b2x-wPl2Zl8/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658911596897827810" border="0" /></a>In the latter stages of the story, when Luis is trying to get Valentin to talk, the film becomes a means of leading him to reveal secrets. We question whether Luis has been genuine at all, or whether his desire to escape was far more literal. It's an interesting device to get us thinking about the way that film blends and confuses reality and fiction, and how people can be manipulated by little more than clever storytelling - something expertly practised by Goebbels and his followers.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdREKU8fQkiJQFq2CFclHLA4JTaSlAws44TMJu8TlGnkPmSRNclnGH1UiWHWfdDsE1_gzCMlm24dKDBz8LPz2THtUBxDsp_AIa3j5uBLMrZRXYGkhIrQ0bBTMkJHjHj4ITlyLVmLL8FHs/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdREKU8fQkiJQFq2CFclHLA4JTaSlAws44TMJu8TlGnkPmSRNclnGH1UiWHWfdDsE1_gzCMlm24dKDBz8LPz2THtUBxDsp_AIa3j5uBLMrZRXYGkhIrQ0bBTMkJHjHj4ITlyLVmLL8FHs/s320/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658912026168326898" border="0" /></a>With this plot development, <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss of the Spider Woman</span> becomes a film about betrayal and the dynamics of exploitation. Luis turns out to be working for the prison governor, whose government wants to expose and arrest the extremists that Valentin is helping. But the dynamic between them is still not straightforward. On the one hand, Luis admits that he has fallen in love with Valentin, and therefore cannot bring himself to betray him (although, of course, he doesn't say this out loud). On the other hand, Luis is tired of being manipulated by the people around him, and promises Valentin that if he is released, he will be his own man. His death is ironic, since he is unable to make this move or to choose between two masters.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9aDNblkLg6-_G6k-5D-iMQcGbT4CO_2yfb5VKAmAceuR3sjgSftLB0aPI_7FiCsxh3OM8jsGHz5S5lyJwZjz2gebgGDqxqKDGr74eIe-nWA7TUFcmu73GeF0yv1OrTBvi_fD7Jj9MsS4/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9aDNblkLg6-_G6k-5D-iMQcGbT4CO_2yfb5VKAmAceuR3sjgSftLB0aPI_7FiCsxh3OM8jsGHz5S5lyJwZjz2gebgGDqxqKDGr74eIe-nWA7TUFcmu73GeF0yv1OrTBvi_fD7Jj9MsS4/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658908891293971122" border="0" /></a>The film also explores sexuality, specifically in Valentin's attitude to Luis' homosexuality. In the first act, Valentin is incredibly hostile, calling Luis a "faggot" at every possible moment. In one scene, he pulls Luis' legs apart and lets forth a blistering tirade about how he would still be a men even he had the guts to cut off his genitals. But as the film moves on, and Luis opens up to Valentin with several acts of kindness, a level of respect grows between the men until the issue of sexuality no longer seems an issue. The film's treatment of sexuality is arguably more shallow than Puig's novel, but it does at least get its sexual politics right without looking like it is consciously trying to do so.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbj8Zl10ADwmRmaIEngORtnrIMesKrN0qIz_ez3xcRbElDvqhs8Gjsxomwd9CegcAVlLRv6ch0MduKWHRQjXxyP6xGg3_qnYlcRKS9RxKcNziKfivsNkHIsfh4CQIofJW3rSQH3_Dj-F4/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbj8Zl10ADwmRmaIEngORtnrIMesKrN0qIz_ez3xcRbElDvqhs8Gjsxomwd9CegcAVlLRv6ch0MduKWHRQjXxyP6xGg3_qnYlcRKS9RxKcNziKfivsNkHIsfh4CQIofJW3rSQH3_Dj-F4/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658907820840186434" border="0" /></a>The two central performances in <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss of the Spider Woman</span> are both of a high calibre. Raul Julia is the more understated of the two, but he is a fiery and compelling screen presence, and we believe in his character right from the beginning. With William Hurt, it takes a little more time. When we first meet him, he is swanning around in a turban and dressing down, looking like David Bowie in his video for 'Blue Jean'. But though his character is undoubtedly effeminate, this is not a clichéd Hollywood gay performance, all mincing and hinged wrists. Hurt is very convincing, and in the latter stages takes on a Ralph Fiennes quality: the sunken-in eyes and slicked-back hair are reminiscent of Fiennes' performance in <span style="font-style: italic;">The English Patient</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63HXwETSfVfRZd7bO2Tl49ZIsu2yeNEL3-CZiDVRJ7gfFdYnI9M4KB-3Lup5egLt9MH3PQMsrpYZltOJUVmhFJNJlAHyijwM3uulsGHOMz9K-wgkCy1BVhVFkoglvlJG9qw57MncF65U/s1600/15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63HXwETSfVfRZd7bO2Tl49ZIsu2yeNEL3-CZiDVRJ7gfFdYnI9M4KB-3Lup5egLt9MH3PQMsrpYZltOJUVmhFJNJlAHyijwM3uulsGHOMz9K-wgkCy1BVhVFkoglvlJG9qw57MncF65U/s320/15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658911323363126978" border="0" /></a>All that is good and bad about <span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss of the Spider Woman </span>can be found in its recreation of Hollywood movies. Babenco carefully recreates the sepia visuals and big-gestured acting styles, resisting the temptation to be arch and snigger at them under his breath. But while he never falls into the traps that Peter Bogdanovich did in <span style="font-style: italic;">At Long Last Love</span>, he ends up being so overtly affectionate that we are the ones who end up sniggering. One cannot help laughing at the club-footed resistance member cornering the cabaret singer whilst holding a dog, because it's played so assuredly straight that it becomes absurd.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ5OQ5MPbj2k35p4mfL9UvJF40zz6zT_SFXRaIm04ZyRuS_Y2EWrkREo6LiDYdbcPr00GnGECCSqkMraywaMfziVw141lgvOhkTyREkjmPc_qDZyiZJcXSvW4Q3Hm8prkc41u-rIuHy-E/s1600/11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ5OQ5MPbj2k35p4mfL9UvJF40zz6zT_SFXRaIm04ZyRuS_Y2EWrkREo6LiDYdbcPr00GnGECCSqkMraywaMfziVw141lgvOhkTyREkjmPc_qDZyiZJcXSvW4Q3Hm8prkc41u-rIuHy-E/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658910938189189906" border="0" /></a>There are other flaws as well. The film reveals its main development (i.e. Luis' betrayal) far too readily, and after this one little detail the film starts to unravel. Once the action moves to outside the prison, a lot of the tension goes with it, like lifting the lid off a prison cooker. Because things are running out of steam so markedly, the film tries to recapture that tension with a shootout, a move which partially succeeds but also smacks of desperation. In its actual ending, involving Valentin slipping into a fantasy involving his lost lover, the film falls into the trap of confusing the movie version of love with the true love the characters experienced. It opts for pure escapism over anything more emotionally rewarding.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENUNK6s6I96Zkz9EGmqjK6YMK8-QklSeOLJs7FTZm-hIzXf8lbFGLL0s0wdfeTWwgU3i-vDHNcT11xE5c822sKYP2iH7A_ZoKHLW-h0OaItMl1jTne_4c2Lm40NZB7PSDx7Zx3mLjkSs/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENUNK6s6I96Zkz9EGmqjK6YMK8-QklSeOLJs7FTZm-hIzXf8lbFGLL0s0wdfeTWwgU3i-vDHNcT11xE5c822sKYP2iH7A_ZoKHLW-h0OaItMl1jTne_4c2Lm40NZB7PSDx7Zx3mLjkSs/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658909471395052658" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Kiss of the Spider Woman</span> is an engrossing and intense prison drama, undone only by its melodramatic moments and rambling ending. The central performances are believable and compelling, and Babenco's direction does justice to Puig's novel by achieving a decent balance between the gritty and theatrical. It's not Babenco's finest work, and in the grand scheme of prison dramas it has long since been eclipsed by <span style="font-style: italic;">The Shawshank Redemption</span>. But the film has lost very little of its emotional power, and still makes for intriguing viewing.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Rating: </span><a href="http://s93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/?action=view&current=35stars.png" target="_blank"><img style="width: 80px; height: 16px;" src="http://i93.photobucket.com/albums/l51/AlbertWales/35stars.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Verdict: Powerful but by no means perfect<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><p></p>
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