Tag: Film

Ran (1985) (E)

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IMDb / Ebert 1 / Ebert 2
Written by Akira Kurosawa, Hideo Oguni & Masato Ide
Based on ‘King Lear’ by William Shakespeare
Directed by Akira Kurosawa

I was first introduced to King Lear at age 15 (I think) when the Pumphouse Theatre in Takapuna put it on. I remember thinking it was a great story, awesomely tragic and powerful, but I wondered if all productions of it were so disjointed and confused. A fuller understanding of the play came at age 17 when we studied it in Mrs. Keith’s 7th form English class, and I enjoyed it very much. Mrs. Keith made sure to let us know that she’d never seen it performed well, and wondered if it was possible for it to be done; she wondered aloud about a Japanese film from the 80s that supposedly did a good job of it, but she hadn’t seen it, so she couldn’t say.

Ran is the film she was referring to, but it wasn’t just her mention of it that led me to eventually see it. Recently I was exposed to the above image, and was so captivated by it that I immediately went to the library and put a request in for the DVD. Having now seen it, I can say that it lives up to all the hype. It is a particularly fine Lear adaptation, conveying the madness and eventual tragedy of the Lord, the treachery of two of his offspring, and the nobleness of the third. It is also visually a remarkable film filled with such extraordinary images as the one above; indeed, that shot is only one part of an extraordinary battle sequence, surely the one of the most incredible ever filmed, and there is another at the end of the film which rivals it.

It’s the scale of it all that astonishes me. You look at Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, and the battle scenes are amazing, but 70-80% of them is created solely on a computer, and there’s plenty of cutting that makes it easier for them to convey chaos. Ran, on the other hand, is all real, except for the blood. Those are real people charging around, falling off horses and being trampled, shooting vast numbers of arrows into the enemy’s ranks. Virtually all of it is shot from a reasonable distance, so you can always see what’s going on, and you can marvel better at the audacity of it all. Look again at that above image: that’s a real castle (built especially for the film) burning to the ground, so they only had one shot at getting it – and they got it.

The carnage only comes in brief bursts, though. Ran focuses more on the human elements of the story, cutting to the heart of Shakespeare’s themes and displaying them clearly through the characters. As Lord Hidetora, the film’s Lear figure, Tatsuya Nakadai offers a remarkable range of facial expressions that one feels Western cinema could never pull off without seeming overly broad; they are somewhat over the top, but they do a better job of getting us inside the character’s head than any subtle underplaying would. The rest of the cast also performs well, particularly Mieko Harada in a Lady Macbeth-type role; her icy words are chilling, and her eventual fate is superbly handled.

This is my fourth Kurosawa film, after (in this order) Shichinin no samurai, Ikiru, and Rashomon. They have been phenonemal works, clearly showing a director very much in total command of the art form. Rashomon is probably still my favourite, but only just; in any case, I plan to own them all one day, and I plan to see all of Kurosawa’s films before too long. If you haven’t seen any, what’s the deal? Get on it. This guy really does deserve his reputation as one of the top few film directors ever. An interesting fact: as he was a trained painter, his storyboards for all his films were full paintings. It shows. There is a perfection to his images, a clarity of purpose, a genuine cinematic beauty. Even Herzog only manages it a few times per film; with Kurosawa, it’s present in nearly every frame.

Nashville (1975) (E)

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IMDb / Ebert 1 / Ebert 2 / Cale
Written by Joan Tewkesbury
Directed by Robert Altman

The ensemble drama has been particularly popular in recent American film. Primary exponents are Paul Thomas Anderson (Boogie Nights, Magnolia), Steven Soderbergh (Traffic) and Paul Haggis (Crash). However, the king of the genre is undoubtedly Robert Altman. These more recent examples offer distinct worlds that are easy to be drawn into, with fascinating characters that we do care about; the difference with Altman’s films is that every person on screen – from the part with the most dialogue, to the guy with a mullet and goatee standing in a huge crowd – comes across as a real person. The others I have seen are Short Cuts and Gosford Park, and it’s that attention to the smallest roles that sets him apart, placing him among the greatest American filmmakers.

Nashville, I would suggest, is his finest hour. (Without having seen MASH or The Player I’m not really in any position to judge, but too bad.) No better film chronicle of Americana exists that I’ve seen. All the required elements are present and correct: country music, NASCAR racing, and most of all, the sorts of interpersonal relationships that could only happen like this in America. Husbands and wives in difficulty, for various reasons (extramarital affairs, career overtaking love etc.); groups of friends in disarray; outsiders regarding the environment with fascination and ignorance, whilst being regarded with (much of the time) utter disdain. I say again, not for a second does any of it seem contrived, not even the famous climax that we know is coming but we still don’t believe will really happen.

If for no other reason, it’s all real because it’s unusually unromanticised. I expected Nashville to be a celebration of the American Dream, and in a way it is, but it is deeply critical of it; from the start it has characters singing about peace, love and understanding, then as soon as the song ends they settle back into their bitter, disagreeable, and troubled persona. Dreams don’t crumble in this film so much as they are denied outright. Everybody wants for more – that great reconciliation, that deserved recognition, that wider success – but it’s always out of reach. Some realise this and some don’t, and it is heartbreaking to watch those in both camps as they either deal with a crushing realisation, or continue to delude themselves.

I make it sound like there’s no hope in this story, but there is, and it’s summed up by the fact that the one character who really takes advantage of her big break only gets it through the extreme misfortune of another. That’s to say, outright hope doesn’t necessarily exist: through narrow-mindedness we ignore the flip side of the coin, but it is there, and it might make itself known at the least opportune time. Still, Altman sees the humanity in everyone, and they all come across as sympathetic characters in one way or another. We aren’t perfect! Nobody is! But a lot of us, deep down, have the right things at heart. A simple old message, but rarely better illustrated than it is here.

I really liked the way much of this film was shot in medium to long shot – it was another good way of making everyone seem on equal footing. The music is great, too, particularly Haven Hamilton’s opener ‘200 Years’. The acting is excellent across the board, and it would be pointless to pick a standout because there are literally dozens of good performances here. The only slightly troublesome element was that there were so many plot strands that it did get a little bit confusing sometimes… but hey, that’s what second viewings are for.

P. T. Anderson, the pretender to Altman’s throne, got Henry Gibson (Haven Hamilton in this film) to play a small role in Magnolia, and that surely is his way of recognising his roots. I imagine there are hundreds of young filmmakers in America and around the world who would cite Altman as an influence. This is another legendary director who has never won an Oscar, and as such he will receive a ‘We Fucked Up‘ one this year. He’s a pioneer, an innovator, a true cinema artist, and those unfamiliar with his work should certainly start with Nashville.

Good Night, and Good Luck. (2005) (H)

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IMDb / Ebert / Cale
Written by George Clooney & Grant Heslov
Directed by George Clooney

George Clooney’s Good Night, and Good Luck. is unusual among modern films in that it has a great deal of respect for its audience. It simply presents a series of events that occurred in the 1950s involving Sen. Joseph McCarthy and CBS News, particularly the host of ‘See It Now’, Edward Murrow; it doesn’t ever become preachy, or manipulative, or attempt to guide the viewer through what is going on. It’s like it’s been brought forward from that great decade in American film, the 70s – it can be compared to All the President’s Men, because it is very much in the same class.

To begin with, this is not only a very good film, but such a good rendering of its time period to be practically an archival document. Shot by Robert Elswit in glorious black and white, everything feels as though it has been lifted straight out of the 50s. The best way to illustrate this is by observing the seamless integration of McCarthy archive footage into the film – indeed, test audiences suggested to Clooney that he should have hired a different actor to play McCarthy because of his overacting, not realising it was the man himself. Everything feels just right: immediately we are immersed in immaculate period detail, and it is no struggle to remain immersed throughout the duration of the film.

That the film is biased towards Murrow and his colleagues makes no difference to me. In fact, I prefer it that way, and not just because I agree with their strong belief in free speech and their disagreement with scare tactics by extremely powerful people. I think it makes for a more effective film, because McCarthyism is not something one reacts to with ambivalence; you have to decide which side you stand on, and the fact that Clooney wastes no time with the opposing views makes the film a lot tighter and ultimately more effective. Perhaps the most impressive aspect is that while it is a film about that period of great nationwide fear, it also directly reflects parallel events in current times. Back then, a newsman and his team were willing to stand up to a fearmonger and say “this isn’t right”, but today lies and outright ineptitude in American politics go largely unchallenged by mainstream media. It is not surprising that in Murrow’s final speech, he mentions American foreign policy in the Middle East; it is the only time in the film where Clooney explicitly offers the audience a connection, and it works very well.

In the role of Ed Murrow, David Strathairn is magnificent. He carries the film with remarkable authority and integrity; as he looks directly into the camera and speaks those immortal words of the title, we trust him, because he means it. His serious, focused remarks are balanced with some wonderful lines of sardonic wit. Only once does he show vulnerability for a moment, but he immediately picks himself up and gets on with the job again – a true professional. Equally as good is Ray Wise as the doomed colleague Don Hollenbeck: the scene in which O’Brien’s piece is read out to him is phenomenal, as he tries – but fails – to maintain a cheery demeanour. It’s surprisingly affecting. Everyone else in the cast – Clooney, Langella, Downey Jr., Clarkson, Daniels – is functional, doing the job as well as they need to without distracting from Strathairn’s great performance. I would, however, single out one scene between Downey Jr. and Clarkson as being terrifically acted, and that is just after Daniels’ character has spoken to them. We expect to see disappointment, but their tenderness towards each other is just wonderful… a superbly well-written and well-acted moment.

If anything, Good Night, and Good Luck. finishes a little too quickly. We could probably have done with another twenty minutes to convey a bit more detail, because those unfamiliar with the events going in would perhaps struggle to keep up, and anyway, I would’ve been delighted to stay in that lush black and white world a bit longer. Still, this is an absurdly early contender for the best film to be released this year. The fine acting, the wonderful pans and re-focuses, the taut directing – it’s finely honed cinema, great to watch and it makes you think.

2005: Good Movies

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My review of the year 2005 continues with the top ten movies I saw in cinemas. They had to play either on general release or in a festival, thus North by Northwest in a one-off at the Regent and Cremaster 3 in Film Society were not considered.

1. Grizzly Man – Werner Herzog
Nothing else screened in 2005 could approach the brilliance of Herzog’s Grizzly Man. In the guise of a nature documentary, the great Bavarian sums up life, the universe and everything, and in doing so embraces the darkness that defines our existence. More than in any of his other films I’ve seen, more even than in Lessons in Darkness, Herzog stares into the abyss and refuses to turn away; rather than trying to lionise a very troubled human being, he condemns his madness while at the same time celebrating him. Only Herzog could produce an effective film that both damns and praises its subject, while at the same time turning his gaze to the audience and demanding that they re-evaluate their own lives. It fits perfectly with his overall body of work, and stands in my opinion as one of the greatest films – documentary or fiction – ever made.

2. My Summer of Love – Pawel Pawlikowski
I had high hopes for this on the back of Pawlikowski’s excellent debut Last Resort, not to mention the presence of the incomparable Paddy Considine; still, I was stunned by how good this was. Virtually everything about this film was perfect. The screenplay was very focused on character, involving a sequence of events that make up a plot (rather than a plot that drives a sequence of events). Each scene seems to top the last, and the dialogue is powerful and real. The cinematography is first class, just beautiful in places. The acting (essentially a three-role film) from Considine and leads Nathalie Press and Emily Blunt is as good as you’ll see. The use of music is unequivocally the best of the year. The directing, man… absolutely perfect. Seriously, when I start making movies, this will be my model for a perfectly directed film. No shot is wasted, no aspect of the actors’ performances left untapped; with few locations, few actors and relatively small crew, Pawlikowski creates the most affecting and believable film story of the year. Only the ending prevents me from placing it at #1 – while excellent, it was so surprising as to seem a bit out of place. On second viewing, I’m sure it’ll seem more right. See this one, at all costs.

3. DiG! – Ondi Timoner
Like Grizzly Man, this was a documentary mostly about one completely mad guy. It was also one of the funniest and most entertaining films of the year. You would keep wishing that Anton Newcombe would just give himself a break sometime, but he would always trump himself by doing or saying something even more ridiculous (sending the Dandy Warhols shotgun shells with their names on stands out as a particularly insane act). Taking place over 7 years, this documents Newcombe’s constant rise and fall, and his rivalry with the Dandys’ Courtney Taylor (who narrates). As good a film about rock and roll as has been made, you come to the end feeling as though you personally know the principal figures, which I always think is some sign of success.

4. Palindromes – Todd Solondz
Solondz, the master absurdist, again makes fun every single member of the audience whatever their views are. It’s not as simple as that, though; he’s not merely taking aim at our collective ridiculousness through the medium of film. It’s not a protest. It just shows us for what we are: opinionated, narrow-minded fools who search for meaning everywhere in our lives when there simply isn’t any. I saw this the day after Grizzly Man, which was somehow fitting; both films are audacious enough to say that everything in our lives is absurd and trivial, but convince us that it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just the way we are. I see Palindromes not as an exploration of the abortion debate on film, but an extension (and improvement upon) the director’s earlier Happiness – an offering of freaks and outliers of society that represent all of us far better than the winners.

5. Sideways – Alexander Payne
I really need to see this again, since I’ve only seen it the once back in February. In any case, it was clearly going to be one of the year’s best even as early as that. The combination of Payne and Jim Taylor’s screenplay with a fine four-piece acting ensemble resulted in a wonderful reworking of the buddy comedy and road movie genres. Several scenes are great (most memorable being Miles’ lines on the beach), but they all contribute to an overall tone and theme that leaves you thinking for days. This is an extremely genuine film, amusing and (for a film about wine drinkers) remarkably free of pretentiousness. If for no other reason, see it for Paul Giamatti’s superlatively great performance; if you need another, see it for the skill of Payne, who after only four features has honed his craft to near perfection.

6. The Constant Gardener – Fernando Meirelles
A powerful, angry thriller by John le Carré was expertly transformed into a provocative and affecting film by the soon-to-be legendary Brazilian Meirelles. Filmmaking is rarely as politically charged as this, and because it was handled well, I was happy to climb aboard with the film’s agenda. It’s well acted and well shot, and as well as making you think, it’s a damned good thriller; structurally Meirelles messes you around, before slowly joining the threads back up. Some scenes could have been handled better, and it is a little difficult to handle the influx of information in the third act, but overall it is a quality exercise in filmmaking. And anyway, a film that so clearly states that it wants to change your opinion should be applauded for being so up front.

7. Sin City – Robert Rodriguez
The most brutal film of the year was also one of the most hyped, but for once, it lived up to great expectations. I’ve never been much of a fan of Rodriguez, but the technical skill on display here is so mindblowing that it has to be seen to be believed; it really is as if a comic book has come to life. And what a violent comic book it is. Many, many moments are excruciatingly grotesque (several of them, unbelievably, involve Elijah Wood), and contribute to an overall sense of sub-baseness that pervades every frame. This is all style and absolutely no substance… but what style, man. It’s so much fun it’s practically a guilty pleasure, and I must say, I’m quite looking forward to instalments 2 and 3.

8. Batman Begins – Christopher Nolan
None of the trailers or stills excited me, and the pedigree of the previous Batman films was not a little off-putting, but the presence of Nolan as director and Christian Bale as star forced me along to see this on opening night. I was far from disappointed; in fact, I really bloody liked it. This immediately re-states the parameters for Bruce Wayne/Batman, removing any comparison with the earlier films; if it seems a bit odd for the first half hour, don’t worry, you’ll eventually settle into it. This is a rare blockbuster that focuses on character rather than action, offering one of the most entertaining and enthralling screen heroes of the new millennium. Unfortunately, while a lot of the action is bad-ass, most of the fight scenes are epileptically edited with seemingly billions of cuts per second – the only disappointing aspect of an otherwise fine film.

9. Inosensu: Kokaku kidotai – Mamoru Oshii
English title: Ghost in the Shell: Innocence. This is a sequel to the 1995 original, Ghost in the Shell, which was a very direct influence on The Matrix, and I found it to be a better film. Typically for an Oshii work, it was very confusing and often totally violated all traditional rules of film storytelling; still, that never derailed a fascinating, beguiling film. I’d need to see it again to understand it, but I was happy to just be swept up in the wonder of it all – it’s visually extraordinary with its mix of traditional and CG animation, and always mindblowing. Probably only good for anime fans, and probably needs to be seen on a big screen; fortunately, I and the venue fit these criteria, so I enjoyed it very much.

10. Gegen die Wand – Fatih Akin
English title: Head-On (literally Against the Wall, a much better title if you ask me). This film’s first hour and a half is so good, I just wish they could have kept it up for the final half hour. Still, that doesn’t stop this being a powerful film, well directed and acted and with great use of music. It creates characters that we quickly care about and want to see succeed, despite their extreme anti-social qualities; however, we also quickly know that everything isn’t going to end well, so it is difficult to hold out hope. Winner of the Golden Bear at Berlin and Best Film at the European Film Awards, this signals the arrival of a major new directing talent, and looks closely at lives without any sort of direction. It’s tough and shocking at times, but well worth your time.

One thing to note: the first four spots are all taken up by Film Festival films, which goes to show how shitty the general release slate was last year. I get the feeling we’re on an unstoppable slide: 2004 was good overall, 2005 rubbish with great moments, so 2006 will surely be the worst year for studio film yet. I hope I’m proved wrong.

King Kong (2005) (R)

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IMDb / Ebert / Lieberman
Written by Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens
Based on the 1933 story by Merian C. Cooper and Edgar Wallace
Directed by Peter Jackson

Just like his Lord of the Rings trilogy, the entertainment of Peter Jackson’s King Kong lasts only for its duration: it does not stick in the mind, leave you pondering, or remain at all as anything more than a few traces. However, while you are in the cinema, it fully occupies your senses and your imagination for three remarkably swift hours. This is a big, big movie, currently the sixth most expensive of all time, but it is money well spent. Compare it with the year’s next most expensive, Revenge of the Sith, and there is no comparison – where Lucas made an uninvolving, not even cool movie, Jackson has produced the purest cinema entertainment for our delectation. And I loved it.

Of the 187 minutes, virtually every single second is completely ridiculous hokum – schmaltzy and totally outside the realms of reality. Practically all of the dialogue is straight out of a 30s or 40s matinee – that is, it exists only to drive the story on, and would never be heard in real life. The characters are quickly drawn and remain consistent throughout, without great development arcs or anything, but that’s fine. What matters most is that Jackson presides over each frame with dutiful care, investing it with all the love he has built up for the original, the big budget film in general, and the personal joy he takes in making these enormous cinema entertainments. He just wants you to enjoy yourself – there are no further pretensions, and that is truly wonderful to find in today’s mainstream cinema.

The star of the show doesn’t appear until nearly halfway through the film, but it is worth the wait, and from then on every scene involving Kong is one to savour. He is an animal, not anthropomorphised to any great extent, which is remarkable in itself in these times of Pixar’s and DreamWorks’ litany of wisecracking flora and fauna. Because he remains a beast, he cuts deeper into my heart than if he had been given more complex facial expressions and verbalisations. He grunts, he beats his chest, he roars, and he is sometimes fascinated and/or delighted. A creature. There were several moments, mostly when he interacts with Naomi Watts’ Ann Darrow, when I thought he would slip into human mode, but each passed with a sigh of relief on my part as he resisted. Not once does he grin or grunt knowingly. That would be tantamount to winking at the screen, or spouting a witty one-liner, as it would have the same diminishing effect on the power of the story.

It’s a simple story, too, but a good one – a story that appeals to our deepest sense of adventure, the sort of stuff you want to do when you’re a kid. And when Kong finally stands atop that skyscraper, with Darrow at his side and biplanes flying around him like mosquitoes, it’s exhilarating and a little bit affecting. Jackson’s qualities as a director don’t generally lie in shot composition, but the fall of Kong is visually very well executed. A girl behind me bawled her eyes out, and if you get someone in the audience to cry, surely you’ve done something effective with your filmmaking craft.

So, the dialogue is ridiculous, principal characters come through extraordinary danger hysterically unscathed, and many scenes in the first hour and a half could have been pared down or cut altogether. But come on! A fucking giant gorilla FIGHTS A Tyrannosaurus, ripping its jaw apart with alarming brutality, and it is rendered well enough to be believable! You slap down your cash, you go into the cinema and sit down, and you are entertained for the duration. That’s what Jackson promises, and that’s exactly what you get.

Being There (1979) (R)

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IMDb / Ebert 1 / Ebert 2 / Cale
Written by Jerzy Kosinski, based on his novel
Directed by Hal Ashby

I think I’ll just let Ebert and Cale do the talking for this one – I needn’t add much to their very good reviews. I will say two things:

1) This was my second Ashby film after The Last Detail. I like this guy. He doesn’t overdo anything, ever. In fact, he deliberately avoids manipulative devices – rarely does music accompany the visuals (when it does, he usually chooses something surprising), there is no gross editing trickery. He just shoots the script, alternating between long, mid and close-up to great effect. You know the phrase ‘They don’t make ’em like that anymore’? Well, his films may be where it applies best. Allowing the audience to come to their own conclusions has almost become taboo in Hollywood today, but in the 70s (even as late as ’79) a studio like Warner Bros. would produce a film like Being There because the material was good. If only it were still that daring and simple.

2) I loved the ending. Loved, loved, loved it. It encapsulated the whole film into a single 30-second shot without trivialising all that had gone before; it makes for a fitting end to a very good film, but leaves you pondering for some time afterwards. Beautiful and possessing great depth, like the film as a whole.

The Constant Gardener (2005) (R)

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IMDb / Ebert / Cale
Written by Jeffrey Caine
Based on the novel The Constant Gardener by John le Carré
Directed by Fernando Meirelles

After only two feature films, Fernando Meirelles has developed a filmmaking style that is recognisably his own. Every frame of The Constant Gardener, like his brilliant debut Cidade de Deus, is clearly stamped with his seal – this is something that few filmmakers can attest to so early in their career (others that spring to mind are Sofia Coppola, Darren Aronofsky and Pawel Pawlikowski). His style is characterised by an (nearly) always moving camera (often handheld), washed out tones, and a lot of quick cuts. Personally, it’s not the kind of style I would use to make films – I prefer things to be slower, more meditative – but it is undeniably effective, especially given the subject matter he has tackled.

Justin Quayle, a diplomat, meets and marries activist Tessa. Both of them have a lot of work in Africa, particularly Kenya, and Justin starts to suspect Tessa is keeping secrets from him. She is then murdered, leaving Justin with a lot to find out, particularly concerning international pharmaceutical corporations. Don’t worry, it gives nothing away to mention Tessa’s murder, because that is what opens the film; it is the event that forces Justin to stop treading carefully, and start demanding answers to very big questions.

For the first 45 minutes or so, The Constant Gardener is deliberately beguiling – it moves so quickly that it takes an effort on the viewer’s part to keep up with what is happening. We see Tessa in various situations – urging Kenyans to take AIDS tests, confronting people from big pharmaceuticals, and questioning her marriage. We don’t know exactly what it all means because the puzzle pieces don’t fit yet, but eventually the answers will come – we feel like Justin, because we care about this woman and want to know what happened to her, but we have only snatches of information from which to seek answers. It’s so rare for a filmmaker to simply provide the viewer with little details and leave the dots unconnected at first, before eventually rewarding our interest by steadily revealing more information. Cidade de Deus was similar, if more clear (probably because it used voice-over); I love that he respects the audience and gets us thinking before offering more. Too many films spoonfeed information leaving us with no work to do; this, however, is serious, intelligent, adult filmmaking to be savoured.

In the role of Justin, Ralph Fiennes (my distant cousin, hooray) is good, effective. unspectacular. He does awkward well at first, but develops a hardness as the character becomes more and more disillusioned with his surroundings. Rachel Weisz as Tessa, however, is even better – a very complex character with positive and negative qualities, a character we love in spite of our reservations. Given not a lot of screen time overall, she brings this character expertly to life – it’s one of those pieces of acting that make you forget the actor. Weisz is a beautiful, talented woman; I believed this before The Constant Gardener, and am completely sure of it now.

It does lose its way a little towards the end, however, as the influx of details is a little hard to cope with and may be unsatisfying for some; still, that is what repeat viewings are for. And what was the deal with Pete Postelthwaite’s accent? Still, this is overall a very effective film. Just as Justin is forced to question the world around him, so are we; how can we accept the atrocities being carried out by corporations and government officials all over the world? We must confront not only the sorry state of our world, but also our own morals and ethics. Place yourself in Justin’s situation. Would you be willing to put yourself in danger in the search for answers, or would you protect yourself and not rock the boat? Stay in your seat for the final credits: there is a postscript from John le Carré that gives the story a little more power.

Manhattan (1979) (R)

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IMDb / Ebert 1 / Ebert 2
Written by Woody Allen and Marshall Brickman
Directed by Woody Allen

“You’re so beautiful, I can hardly keep my eyes on the meter…” So says Allen’s Isaac Davis in Manhattan, as a cab takes him and his date through the New York streets. It’s typical of a film which accentuates all human neuroses and cynical attitudes and places them front and centre – not to be celebrated, but to be acknowledged, something of a warts-and-all approach that doesn’t romanticise but leaves room for real romance. It’s deeply autobiographical, clearly, but I think it’s relevant to many of us.

Isaac is the central focus of the film. He’s nerdy, articulate, funny, neurotic – all these adjectives that have been applied to Allen over the years. He has no trouble finding women, but his relentless critical evaluations of relationships seem to derail them before they have a chance to be anything more than just sex and temporary companionship. Indeed, Isaac talks for almost the entire movie – he says so much so fast that it’s kind of hard to keep up with at first, but you get used to it as it goes on. In fact, I could say the same thing of the whole movie: I found it somewhat annoying at first, with its self-righteous, overly cerebral and incredibly narcissistic characters. That’s just who these people are, though. It isn’t as stagy as it first seems – there are people just like these in the real world, we know them, in a lot of ways we are them.

So it’s a film about relationships, but without any of the sappy nonsense we usually see in films. There are no sentimental moments, no turning points, and there is no real happy ending. People are right for each other in some ways, but totally incompatible in others. And of course, a relationship between two people encompasses more than just the people in it – others affect it directly or indirectly, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. No matter how open you are, there’s always more beneath the surface. To be honest, I could’ve just quoted dialogue to convey all this information. There’s so much of it, and so much of it is good. Funny, clever, and true, and delivered quickly but effectively by all members of the cast, particularly Allen and Diane Keaton (who had worked together before). Very occasionally the talking stops, and the ensuing silences are wonderfully used – characters have reached a point where words won’t do anymore, they just kind of look at each other, and it’s beautiful.

It’s not just a good screenplay, though. Allen’s decision to film in black and white was audacious, but tremendously effective; some sequences are almost completely without light, such that it is hard to make out what is happening on screen and you have to use the character’s voices to guide you, drawing attention to the excellent dialogue. The other brave choice he made was to shoot mostly from mid- or long-range, very rarely in close-up; rather than removing the audience from the action, it somehow makes it more real, more involving. Close-ups can make for great cinema, but that isn’t really what this script calls for – while not quite gritty realism, it’s a world that strongly reflects our own, and our lives are frequently composed of talking across a room or a table. So that’s what happens here. I really liked that.

As always, though, I have reservations. Some scenes end abruptly, some fall completely flat; most importantly, the final scene is a disappointment. It contains probably the weakest dialogue in the whole movie, and departs in tone from the rest of the film, when we should continue to be swept along in the entertainment. It doesn’t provide a conclusion, but that’s okay (and is often a good thing); what is not okay is that it doesn’t really leave any questions, either. All that had gone before was so engaging and thought-provoking, to end on that note feels very much like an anti-climax. It isn’t enough to sabotage the whole film, but it is bit of a let down.

This was my first Allen film. I’ll certainly be seeing more, particularly with the rave reviews of his latest, Match Point. Based on interviews I’ve read, he seems content to feel mediocre – he’s under no illusions that he’s become very much wiser over the years, and I guess that attitude shows in his films. In no way does he come across as superior; he’s just another guy making do with whatever happens. Manhattan, however, is an excellent reflection of the mediocrity of life. The Gershwin soundtrack is fantastic, too.

In My Father’s Den (2004) (H)

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IMDb
Based on ‘In My Father’s Den’ by Maurice Gee
Written and Directed by Brad McGann

It was Ma who first personally encouraged me to go and see In My Father’s Den. I remember her saying that she thought it was as close to a perfect film as she had seen – in strength of narrative, structure, acting, and directing skill. After several further positive testimonies, I did go and see it, and was still surprised by how good it was. Not perfect, because I found a few things to be distractingly out of place (which I’ll talk about later), but up there with the top few films made in this country.

It’s the story of a war photographer, Paul Prior, who returns home to a small town in central Otago for his father’s funeral. He intends to leave immediately, but is persuaded to stay and teach teenagers English – or, rather, educate them of a world that exists beyond the nearby hills. He strikes up a friendship with a girl in the class, Celia, with whom he has a connection that is gradually revealed. Then Celia goes missing, and the story takes a dark turn – you’ll have to see it to find out the rest.

Sounds somewhat formulaic, but upon this surprisingly complex plot is strung a highly effective film that expertly creates its own world, a time and place we can believe in without having to suspend disbelief. It’s not set in some obviously fake place where teenagers talk like 35 year-olds; among many nice writing touches, people use ‘fuck’ like people in real life (a lot, but not to sound bad-ass), and teenagers are narrow-minded and clear-thinking (if not always smart). The structure of the film is important too. Until the 50-minute mark, it is straightforward and mostly linear, but after that it regularly mixes in flashbacks, which are so often poorly used but are utilised to great effect here. It is a much better film from then on, more engaging, more complex. All of this is down to McGann’s abilities as a writer: in updating Gee’s novel, he has made additions and improvements to make it work better on film, rather than just trying to translate it.

Family and ‘the ties that bind’ play a big part in his screenplay. Paul’s relationship with his brother, both in the present and the past, is extremely well fleshed out: it steadily reveals itself without you having to think particularly hard, and is of course crucial to the film’s outcome. That is characteristic of the film, though, and I suppose is the point that I’ve been looking for – plot elements are slowly and carefully revealed at certain points, never heavy-handedly, and that is what makes it all work so well. You get totally involved in the story, then for days afterwards think about the themes raised – personal isolation, small town mentality, the hurt that can lie buried in families for years. Any screenplay that offers an engaging story and rewards thinking about it afterwards must be admired.

Thankfully, McGann isn’t just a talented writer; he shows some pretty well-honed directing chops as well. This is his first feature film after much work in TV and shorts, and this is clearly the work of someone who knows and understands film technique, not someone just finding their feet. Shots often show the moments before and after someone speaks, lingering on their face, suggesting much but revealing little – it’s fascinating stuff. There’s the odd unnecessary crane shot, or purely expository scene (particularly in the first third), but overall it’s a very assured debut. Particularly his use of contemporary music – the original score is plinky-plonky rubbish that derails a few moments, but whenever Patti Smith or Kiri te Kanawa take over, it adds so very much to the action. To all you young aspiring Tarantinos in America, this is how music should be used – not to compensate for the lack of quality of a scene, but to build upon it, emphasise it.

McGann is magnificently served by his actors. The supporting roles are filled by good NZ actors and reasonably well played, but In My Father’s Den relies on its two leads, and they are magnificent. Emily Barclay is remarkable as Celia, showing impressive range in a difficult role that could easily have become annoying; it’s the signal of a major new talent in NZ acting. As Paul, however, Matthew Macfadyen gets inside the character and gives one of the defining performances of the new millennium. He stutters, he blinks, all these things that are totally against acting tradition, and he uses them to hint at the hurt Paul feels inside. Never for a moment does it feel forced. If he can recover from the mis-step that was being cast as Mr. Darcy, he could go on to an illustrious career – but it’s hard to see him ever doing better work than what he does here.

I was moved to write this review, after weeks of umming and aahing, when I read the news that Brad McGann has been diagnosed with cancer. Read this at Lumière and go along to the screening if you have time and can afford it. It would be tremendously sad if we lost such a talented artist so young.

Doom (2005) (F)

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IMDB / Ebert
Written by a Bunch of Hacks
Directed by a Talentless Mole

Here it is at last, the film I’ve been waiting for. A film to really sink my teeth into, to get me thinking clinically and brutally. This isn’t just the worst movie of the year; it’s possibly the worst movie I’ve seen in my entire life. Apart from a four-minute sequence that is like riding the Motion Master, and the abundant attention given to Rosamund Pike’s breasts, every last aspect is minimally thought out and ineptly executed.

Of its many sins, the most crippling is that it is painfully boring. It’s an action movie in which the action never threatens to excite or engage the viewer. Because it is shot mostly with very low lighting, it’s nearly impossible to get involved in any situation. Like, they’re moving along, and there are a lot of cold stares, then someone looks frightened, then there’s some gunfire and shouting, and then someone’s dead, and there’s more shouting. And I think to myself, what just… oh, I don’t even care. Is this the best you could do? Really? They are the laziest action sequences I’ve seen – put some guys in a dark space with guns, have them blind the audience with their flashlights (I shit you not, this happens several times), then get an unseen monster to kill one of them. It is insulting, but as I say, it is extremely boring, which is far worse. Insulting provokes a reaction in the individual; boring fails to do even that.

This film goes beyond asking you to fill in the gaps – rather, it asks you to create artificial bridges between chunks of information and make up a coherent plot as you go along. The names of the writers are Dave Callaham and Wesley Strick, and I hope they never work again after this mess. The basic plot is a bunch of Marines are called to Mars to secure a scientific facility which has been breached; when they get there, they find that through some sort of genetic research program, the scientists have created a race of super-strong beings that have wreaked havoc. There are obligatory revelations as the narrative progresses, but you know how when you’re being told a story at great length and the teller keeps adding details that just don’t matter and you’re tuning in and out, waiting for the story to end? That’s what this movie is like. A story is there, but it’s so threadbare and poorly told that I couldn’t give a shit.

The dialogue, too, is truly woeful. The last line of the film is “Almost home…” – that’s it! That’s the big, epiphanic finale that we were all waiting for, hoping for, praying that something cool would happen at the end to leave us a little more satisfied. Nope. “Almost home…” is all we get. Prior to that it’s all insults, exposition, and irrelevant nonsense. To compensate for the poor dialogue, the actors SHOUT IT as often as possible. Sorry, Dwayne, but shouting and yelling do not constitute good acting. I tell you, it’s quite bizarre to be saying that I came out of a movie thinking, “Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson wasn’t up to his usual standard.” He really wasn’t, though – after Welcome to the Jungle and Walking Tall I thought he was the new Arnie, but I may be sadly mistaken. He’s upstaged by our own Karl Urban, just, and by Rosamund Pike, particularly her fine figure. It sounds base, but seriously, that was all they were after when they cast her – not her evident acting skills, but because she is pretty and in good shape.

The so-called climax is the lowest ebb in a film of many bad scenes. Character A has just been injected with magic serum which makes him superhuman, and he comes up against Character B, his boss-turned-evil, who is supposedly equally strong. This limited logic that has been set up then goes out the window, as they alternate having the upper hand in new and ridiculous ways. You want to scream at the screen, “Can’t he just kick him off?” But they never do, the recovery is always something even more outlandish, usually involving a handy prop. At one point Character A is holding off death by sharp wire with one hand, and then – no shit – uses that hand to press a button, then brings it back to force back his opponent. What? Consistency with basic physical truths? Nah, we can leave that out – the audience won’t notice.

The director’s name is Andzrej Bartkowiak, a former cinematographer. He should never occupy the director’s chair again. It is appropriate that his (and everyone else’s) name is blasted by a shotgun in the closing credits, because that’s what his career should look like after this shit-fest. Most galling is that the games this film is based on (even Doom 3) are minimally referenced, such that this is almost completely separate from them. Except, of course, that four-minute first-person sequence. No sounds from the games – shit, hardly even any monsters, of which they had a great number of really cool ones to choose from.

I didn’t expect much, admittedly, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad. I suppose it doesn’t have any presumptions other than being a big, dumb action movie; thing is, it isn’t even that. It’s just dull, monotonous crap that we could all do without. Seriously, do not bother with this piece of shit, unless you have a desire to learn exactly what not to do with US$70 million. (Thankfully it didn’t come close to making that back, so there won’t be any sequel, or hopefully any word spoken of it ever again.)