For me, Michael Mann is one of the finest filmmakers in the world today, let alone Hollywood. Although working inside the often somewhat restrictive perimeters of the Hollywood studio system, Mann has sought to push the boundaries of cinema and pioneer new technologies. I would offer that David Lynch and Steven Soderbergh are the only directors rivalling him for him for Hollywood's most experimental filmmaker. It's no coincidence that these three directors have pursued a more documentary, lifelike aesthetic with the aid of digital cameras. He's made a career out of meaty, dramatic crime movies, reaching an artistic peak with 1995's Heat. His most recent films, Collateral and Miami Vice have made superb use of the HD cameras, allowing the audience an exhilarating foray into the seedy neon lit cities.
Public Enemies, his latest film, takes a step back to the 1930's and the gangster John Dillinger. The film focuses on Dillinger's hectic life as a serial bank robber, beginning with his release from a long prison stint, and ending on his infamous death outside a movie theatre. Dillinger was alleged to be something of a Clark Gable figure, dashing and charismatic, a modern day Robin Hood. He was known to be very media savvy, infuriating the FBI and the police force. Dillinger's main foes were FBI director J Edgar Hoover, a calculating, glossy man, and Melvin Purviss, the determined cop on his tail. As always, there is a romantic thread involving Dillinger's girlfriend Billy Frechette, who gets entangled in Dillinger's dangerous affairs.
I've often thought that Johnny Depp could never really cut it as a dramatic, dark figure. This does nothing to assuage that belief. In Donnie Brasco, Depp played a drug smuggler in a wannabe gangster epic. Like the film, Depp was passable in the role, but never really convincing. Never electrifying. Never really dangerous. Depp suffers the same fate here in Mann's film. I don't think we ever really get a good sense of why he was such a charismatic, or dangerous figure. To be honest, I think Johnny Depp is almost bland in straight roles- he comes to life in comedic roles. Instead of a Gable-alike, we get a surly, self absorbed criminal. His relationship with Billy (Marion Cottilard) also falls flat because we don't a get of sense of why it's so important that they should be together. If we compare this to Heat, the obvious reference point for a similar heist movie, that managed to juggle three different romantic threads, and each one seemed pertinent. De Niro's romance in particular was poignant, and yet there was little screen time dedicated to it.
If you want to make a believable romance, if you want the audience to care what happens to the relationship, then dedicate some time to developing it. The screen writer obviously wanted to eke some drama out of the situation, and make it an important part of the film, but forgot to make it relevant. It's by the numbers, cliched relationship drama. Either put some effort into it, or diminish it.
Christian Bale fared much better as Purviss, the rigid cop. The only main player who really convinced in his role, Bale brings in a steely eyed stubborness to his performance. I actually left the cinema almost unable to distinguish Bale from his role, such is the vigour with which he threw himself into it. It also helps that we recognise Bale as an extremely committed professional, so the role isn't such a stretch of the imagination, like nice guy Depp playing a cold hearted criminal. Billy Crudup is slightly odd as Hoover, although one suspects that was part of the plan. His rigid mannerisms and clipped voice are unnerring, but leave a good impression of the character.
Visually the film is, for me, inferior to previous works in that the muted, pale colours of the 1930's world do not lend themselves well to the digital cameras. Whereas Collateral and Miami Vice utilised the neon lights and the moody blue skies to great effect, creating a sense of city life, vibrant and uncertain, Public Enemies feels just a bit grainy. The roaming, hand held camera work also worked so much better in the previous films- is a period film the right platform for this edgy, almost ramshackle style? The most obvious answer would be to implement a stately, intricately composed aesthetic, similar to The Godfather or The Untouchables. Yet it served Mann so well on his previous films that I can't fault him for experimenting this time. The score was very hit-and-miss. Some might balk at the use of a rollocking, modern guitar piece in a 30's set film, though I thought it was well suited in the context of the car chase scenes. I had more issue with the correlation between visuals and sound at more mundane points. Basically, the composer didn't seem to take into account the type of film they were scoring- not the particular genre, but Mann's particular style. So often we were treated to great big orchestral sweeps set to....a few guys walking through a forest. It was almost like John Williams soundtracking an episode of Dispatches.
Despite all these faults, Public Enemies is far from a bad film. It's evocation of the era is impeccable, the acting is decent, and the gunfights are terrifically exciting and real. It's just nowhere near what Mann is capable of, and must be considered something of a disappointment because of this.
6/10
Saturday 5 September 2009
Il Divo
Paulo Sorrentino came to prominence and international acclaim with 2004's 'The Consequences of love', an intimate tale of a mysterious hotel dweller with dubious mafia connections. Il Divo, out this year in the UK, carries on and expands the subject of organised crime, this time in the account of Guiliano Andreotti. Andreotti was the Italian PM for several terms from 1946 right into the early 90's. The figurehead was part of the Democrazia Cristiana, a right wing party, and was frequently linked to the mafia.
Toni Servillio, the star of 'Consequences', turns in another great performance as the Italian leader. The PM shuffles around meekly the grand halls of residence, a deeply serious, almost boring man, like Nosferatu after retirement. Servillio's hunched physicality is faultless and the actor manages to steer clear of overdramatizing the character, although Andreotti himself has said he is even more boring in reality.
The timidity of the central character is offset by a cast of colourful supporting characters; the volatile hardman, the flamboyant spin doctor, the ranting priest-members of Andreotti's far reaching circle. The film shows how Andreotti was able to draw influence through various different strands-religious figures, doctors, lawmen, the police- and later we find out, the criminals.
What really makes this film stand out though, is Sorrentino's remarkable gift as a stylist. The film is a technical tour-de-force, all gliding camera tracks and snappy edits. Before the film started I was preparing myself for a much more muted effort than 'Consequences'- obviously Sorrentino would go for a much more serious, stately style to suit the political film format. After the first 30 seconds, my fears were completely allayed. The camerawork, editing and soundtrack are sophisticated and thrilling, Sorrentino again showing a creative playfulness in his filmmaking that is certainly lacking in most films.
I wouldn't say Il Divo is the definitive account of Andreotti's career, as it seems to touch only only on certain periods, and stylistically it almost overshadows the story. However, I think most people would agree that we do get a sense of the man and the party, the conspiracies and the lies surrounding him.
8/10
Toni Servillio, the star of 'Consequences', turns in another great performance as the Italian leader. The PM shuffles around meekly the grand halls of residence, a deeply serious, almost boring man, like Nosferatu after retirement. Servillio's hunched physicality is faultless and the actor manages to steer clear of overdramatizing the character, although Andreotti himself has said he is even more boring in reality.
The timidity of the central character is offset by a cast of colourful supporting characters; the volatile hardman, the flamboyant spin doctor, the ranting priest-members of Andreotti's far reaching circle. The film shows how Andreotti was able to draw influence through various different strands-religious figures, doctors, lawmen, the police- and later we find out, the criminals.
What really makes this film stand out though, is Sorrentino's remarkable gift as a stylist. The film is a technical tour-de-force, all gliding camera tracks and snappy edits. Before the film started I was preparing myself for a much more muted effort than 'Consequences'- obviously Sorrentino would go for a much more serious, stately style to suit the political film format. After the first 30 seconds, my fears were completely allayed. The camerawork, editing and soundtrack are sophisticated and thrilling, Sorrentino again showing a creative playfulness in his filmmaking that is certainly lacking in most films.
I wouldn't say Il Divo is the definitive account of Andreotti's career, as it seems to touch only only on certain periods, and stylistically it almost overshadows the story. However, I think most people would agree that we do get a sense of the man and the party, the conspiracies and the lies surrounding him.
8/10
Primavera Sound 2009
Okay, it was amazing. Terrific. Euphoric. Blissful.
I'll start off on Wednesday night. Traversed through La Ramblas, which was only a short walk from our apartment- met up with my flatmates and walked around the flashy apartment a bit numbstruck. I could have stayed their forever. Of course, it was the Champions League final, and as a Man Utd supporter, Barcelona was a strange place to be. We found a shabby cafe to watch the match (awful match), and attempted to avoid the throngs of horn-toting Barca fans. It was kinda funny, we ended up being closed into alleyways while policemen fired off rubber bullets as warnings. Apparently there were riots later.
Thursday we played some scrabble and then set off for the festival site. The forum is by the sea, a huge site featuring various stages and courts, all concrete. As a festival goer comfortable with the grassiness of Latitude and Leeds, it was a little disconcerting at first. My least favourite stage perhaps, by the food court, was the Pitchfork one. We started off there catching a set from Women. To be honest they were a little flat, not terrible, but not much stage movement, not much dynamism. Black rice was a highlight, but the other material didn't shine.
I'd decided before the festival to research as much of the line up as possible, and The Bats were ones to look out for. Recently reformed, they could be classed alongside bands like The Chills and The Church, although they're from New Zealand. Like those bands mentioned, they use a clean, jangly guitar sound but what really came out of the set was the cool grooves. Very tight, seemed to enjoy themselves, and the Vice stage right by the water was a lovely and appropriate setting for them.
Sadly, I missed the Vaselines. The ticketing machines, for at least a few crucial parts of the festival, were a joke. The idea was that you'd go buy some drinks tickets at the machines (and a few staff), and then exchange these for drinks. Alright, there were much less queues for the bars, but perhaps only because no one could get drinks? Anyway, a friend got stuck in a massive long queue, and we missed the fucking Vaselines. I caught one or two songs and they sounded great, not at all fey and insubstantial, but punky and fun.
Next up was Yo La Tengo. Only at Primavera would a band like this be given a slot on the Estrella Dam stage. This stage was basically for the biggest bands of the three days. I'd seen them before at the Southbank, soundtracking some marine films, but this was the real deal. Sugarcube, From a motel 6, Shaker, Tom Courtenay, it was all there. The band were excellent, the crowd was going wild, just a wonderful moment.
I managed to glimpse a bit of the Jesus Lizard, but missed the sight of a crowdsurfing David Gow. It looked pretty good from what I saw, but I'm not a massive fan.
My Bloody Valentine at the Estrella Dam was my musical highlight. The sound was glorious, a sea of devotees and we were at the front peddling our own form of prayer (vigorous headbanging). I think Only Shallow was the opening number, probably my favourite, but To here knows when and When you sleep were indescribably euphoric as well. It was great to see the band play into the indigo Barcelona sky as well, much preferable to the stuffy gig at the Roundhouse last year, and much better sound to boot.
Where do you go from MBV? Dancing to Aphex Twin? Yeah, OK! The enigmatic Mr James played to a throbbing crowd at the Rock Delux, the 2nd biggest stage. It's really great because it's lined like a Roman coliseum with stone steps, so you can just sit and watch lazily. We had to dance, obviously, and AT's set was dominated by his more upbeat, dancier compositions, with little of the ambient material that I favour.It didn't matter though, it was still incredibly fun.
Missed Squarepusher for reasons unknown, but found solace in the ATP stage, where DJ's played alternative rock hits incessantly, and awkward indie kids united in love of Debaser and I wanna be your dog, surrounded by beautiful people wearing Sonic Youth t-shirts, and looking up at the peach pastel sky as the sun came up. The Jagermeister's and JD and cokes had worked their magic, and everybody was flailing and shimmying happily. A superb end to the first night.
Friday began with Crystal Stilts, who were on top form. Saw them at the Barden's Boudoir a few months prior, and they were good, if a little lazy, but here in the sun their jangly shoegaze was rather joyous. They even admitted "this was the best we've sounded for ages".
Vivian Girls followed, pretty decent, nothing too special. The girl trio are pretty energetic performers and change instruments, but some of their tunes felt a bit lacking somehow, didn't have the punch of their debut. I would have liked to have seen Pains of being pure at heart, to round off a trio of retro noise makers, but y'know, MBV clashed with them, so it was a no contest.
On the Rock Delux was Spiritualized, AKA Jason Pierce with his band, including a couple of soul backing singers. I enjoyed their set a lot, but for me a band like Spiritualized works best as a visceral experience, so I would have liked some kind of hypnotic visual background, more stage presentation, and perhaps a little less sun (thanks God). The songs drifted along so slowly it was almost unbearable at times, Pierce's pained vocals stretching out every note. Shine a light was sublime, but the real highlight was midway through a song, and suddenly everything goes widescreen, and the guitars burst into life, the drums crash. Where the hell did that come from?
MBV again? Oh, you do spoil us! This time they were booked into the auditorium just off site. It's a large assymetrical, angular, black building. I unfortunately arrived late so was left with a seat on the top tier at the back. It didn't matter too much, but I would have loved to have been sitting in the front row with Sometimes boring into my ears. The sound was absolutely spectacular, ricocheting around the blackness of the venue gloriously. You made me realise was terrific. I felt a tinge of disappointment that MBV weren't playing the next day.
The final day got off onto a good start with a ramshackle set by Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti. He really is a freak. I'd heard he was a bit reclusive, but yeah, really odd (in the best way possible). Wearing a feminine, loose stripy t shirt and shorts, he looked like he was bridging the gap between skater boy and drag queen. I'm only really familiar with his album The Doldrums, so much of it was new to me, but it was surprisingly psychedelic and noisy. There were about 5 or 6 other members, and even a couple of Vivian Girls joined them onstage at one point. The vocal interplay was great as well.
I stayed to watch Jesu at the ATP stage afterwards after hearing good things about them. I was pretty impressed, I liked the doomy soundscapes, almost sounding like ominous synths and the processed beats complimented them well. On the minus side, the two guys lacked a bit of stage presence (as is commonly the way with post rock acts) and the vocals were a bit flat. But otherwise, decent.
Michael Nyman in the auditorium was next up. We got better seats this time, so I felt more involved with the performance. I'm a big admirer of Nyman's collaborations with Peter Greenaway, so I was really looking forward to him (and importantly his band) playing. I think there must have been around 18 in his band, all sat on a platform, while Nyman faced away to their side. The music was sublime, and really quite innovative for 'classical' music. The musicians on strings were shredding it, really shredding it. Marnie Stern would have been proud. The horn section and Nyman's piano work was also pitch perfect. The highlight for me was definitely 'Fish Beach', possibly my favourite Nyman track. Achingly beautiful and simple. This set in particular showed how diverse Primavera was-something you might not find in a lot of festivals.
I caught quite a bit of Neil Young on the Estrella Dam stage. The crowd seemed to be really into it, and I was nodding my head happily along to a few of Young's hits. I remember Cinnamon Girl and Heart of gold got good receptions, and the man seemed on fine form. Even had an artist creating some improptu painting upon stage with him.
I had to leave Deerhunter pretty early on, due to someone drinking too much Jagermeister, which is a shame as I would have liked to have seen them in these kind of circumstances. I saw them a couple of weeks back, and I can tell you that the bassist seemed a lot happier in sunny Spain than a dingy London venue.
Caught most of Sonic Youth, and enjoyed them to an extent. Kim Gordon was the real heartbeat of the band, bellowing out determinedly at the crowd, and they seemed pretty tight. But it did make me realise that I don't really like their music that much. Just too discordant and harsh for me, even though I'm a fan of bands like Codeine and Slint, this doesn't really sit with me.
A smattering of Simian Mobile Disco and then back to a final hurrah with the ATP stage DJ's. Again, wonderful. Danced like a loon to the best of alternative 90's rock, then sat out the ones I didn't know. Watched people go crazy dancing to soul classics. A great end to the festival.
Other things that happened to me:
-Absolutely deranged girl sidles up beside me during Spiritualized, completely wasted and wearing only a bikini top and shorts. On one wrist, she'd sellotaped 6 or 7 of those shot tubes to herself, on the other there was a paper cup sellotaped round her wrist. I thought she might have been a drug addict. It got even weirder when she started nudging me, then whispers "It doesnt matter if you're naked or not, it's ok to be naked", and starts to pull up my shirt. This, all during the daytime performance of Spiritualized. I actually had to jog to the front to get away from her. The funny thing was, we exchanged a knowing glance the next day, and she looked completely normal and pretty embarrassed.
-Meet the Faith Healers through a mutual acquaintance, realise they were in Quickspace, the singer tells me I'm 'pale but pretty'.
-My friend decides to drink 17 Jagermeisters over the course of an hour. Misses Sonic Youth, Neil Young, Deerhunter, completely out of it, throws up on himself.
-Awkward handshake with Eddie Argos
Just the best.
Thu 28 May – Primavera Sound 2009
I'll start off on Wednesday night. Traversed through La Ramblas, which was only a short walk from our apartment- met up with my flatmates and walked around the flashy apartment a bit numbstruck. I could have stayed their forever. Of course, it was the Champions League final, and as a Man Utd supporter, Barcelona was a strange place to be. We found a shabby cafe to watch the match (awful match), and attempted to avoid the throngs of horn-toting Barca fans. It was kinda funny, we ended up being closed into alleyways while policemen fired off rubber bullets as warnings. Apparently there were riots later.
Thursday we played some scrabble and then set off for the festival site. The forum is by the sea, a huge site featuring various stages and courts, all concrete. As a festival goer comfortable with the grassiness of Latitude and Leeds, it was a little disconcerting at first. My least favourite stage perhaps, by the food court, was the Pitchfork one. We started off there catching a set from Women. To be honest they were a little flat, not terrible, but not much stage movement, not much dynamism. Black rice was a highlight, but the other material didn't shine.
I'd decided before the festival to research as much of the line up as possible, and The Bats were ones to look out for. Recently reformed, they could be classed alongside bands like The Chills and The Church, although they're from New Zealand. Like those bands mentioned, they use a clean, jangly guitar sound but what really came out of the set was the cool grooves. Very tight, seemed to enjoy themselves, and the Vice stage right by the water was a lovely and appropriate setting for them.
Sadly, I missed the Vaselines. The ticketing machines, for at least a few crucial parts of the festival, were a joke. The idea was that you'd go buy some drinks tickets at the machines (and a few staff), and then exchange these for drinks. Alright, there were much less queues for the bars, but perhaps only because no one could get drinks? Anyway, a friend got stuck in a massive long queue, and we missed the fucking Vaselines. I caught one or two songs and they sounded great, not at all fey and insubstantial, but punky and fun.
Next up was Yo La Tengo. Only at Primavera would a band like this be given a slot on the Estrella Dam stage. This stage was basically for the biggest bands of the three days. I'd seen them before at the Southbank, soundtracking some marine films, but this was the real deal. Sugarcube, From a motel 6, Shaker, Tom Courtenay, it was all there. The band were excellent, the crowd was going wild, just a wonderful moment.
I managed to glimpse a bit of the Jesus Lizard, but missed the sight of a crowdsurfing David Gow. It looked pretty good from what I saw, but I'm not a massive fan.
My Bloody Valentine at the Estrella Dam was my musical highlight. The sound was glorious, a sea of devotees and we were at the front peddling our own form of prayer (vigorous headbanging). I think Only Shallow was the opening number, probably my favourite, but To here knows when and When you sleep were indescribably euphoric as well. It was great to see the band play into the indigo Barcelona sky as well, much preferable to the stuffy gig at the Roundhouse last year, and much better sound to boot.
Where do you go from MBV? Dancing to Aphex Twin? Yeah, OK! The enigmatic Mr James played to a throbbing crowd at the Rock Delux, the 2nd biggest stage. It's really great because it's lined like a Roman coliseum with stone steps, so you can just sit and watch lazily. We had to dance, obviously, and AT's set was dominated by his more upbeat, dancier compositions, with little of the ambient material that I favour.It didn't matter though, it was still incredibly fun.
Missed Squarepusher for reasons unknown, but found solace in the ATP stage, where DJ's played alternative rock hits incessantly, and awkward indie kids united in love of Debaser and I wanna be your dog, surrounded by beautiful people wearing Sonic Youth t-shirts, and looking up at the peach pastel sky as the sun came up. The Jagermeister's and JD and cokes had worked their magic, and everybody was flailing and shimmying happily. A superb end to the first night.
Friday began with Crystal Stilts, who were on top form. Saw them at the Barden's Boudoir a few months prior, and they were good, if a little lazy, but here in the sun their jangly shoegaze was rather joyous. They even admitted "this was the best we've sounded for ages".
Vivian Girls followed, pretty decent, nothing too special. The girl trio are pretty energetic performers and change instruments, but some of their tunes felt a bit lacking somehow, didn't have the punch of their debut. I would have liked to have seen Pains of being pure at heart, to round off a trio of retro noise makers, but y'know, MBV clashed with them, so it was a no contest.
On the Rock Delux was Spiritualized, AKA Jason Pierce with his band, including a couple of soul backing singers. I enjoyed their set a lot, but for me a band like Spiritualized works best as a visceral experience, so I would have liked some kind of hypnotic visual background, more stage presentation, and perhaps a little less sun (thanks God). The songs drifted along so slowly it was almost unbearable at times, Pierce's pained vocals stretching out every note. Shine a light was sublime, but the real highlight was midway through a song, and suddenly everything goes widescreen, and the guitars burst into life, the drums crash. Where the hell did that come from?
MBV again? Oh, you do spoil us! This time they were booked into the auditorium just off site. It's a large assymetrical, angular, black building. I unfortunately arrived late so was left with a seat on the top tier at the back. It didn't matter too much, but I would have loved to have been sitting in the front row with Sometimes boring into my ears. The sound was absolutely spectacular, ricocheting around the blackness of the venue gloriously. You made me realise was terrific. I felt a tinge of disappointment that MBV weren't playing the next day.
The final day got off onto a good start with a ramshackle set by Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti. He really is a freak. I'd heard he was a bit reclusive, but yeah, really odd (in the best way possible). Wearing a feminine, loose stripy t shirt and shorts, he looked like he was bridging the gap between skater boy and drag queen. I'm only really familiar with his album The Doldrums, so much of it was new to me, but it was surprisingly psychedelic and noisy. There were about 5 or 6 other members, and even a couple of Vivian Girls joined them onstage at one point. The vocal interplay was great as well.
I stayed to watch Jesu at the ATP stage afterwards after hearing good things about them. I was pretty impressed, I liked the doomy soundscapes, almost sounding like ominous synths and the processed beats complimented them well. On the minus side, the two guys lacked a bit of stage presence (as is commonly the way with post rock acts) and the vocals were a bit flat. But otherwise, decent.
Michael Nyman in the auditorium was next up. We got better seats this time, so I felt more involved with the performance. I'm a big admirer of Nyman's collaborations with Peter Greenaway, so I was really looking forward to him (and importantly his band) playing. I think there must have been around 18 in his band, all sat on a platform, while Nyman faced away to their side. The music was sublime, and really quite innovative for 'classical' music. The musicians on strings were shredding it, really shredding it. Marnie Stern would have been proud. The horn section and Nyman's piano work was also pitch perfect. The highlight for me was definitely 'Fish Beach', possibly my favourite Nyman track. Achingly beautiful and simple. This set in particular showed how diverse Primavera was-something you might not find in a lot of festivals.
I caught quite a bit of Neil Young on the Estrella Dam stage. The crowd seemed to be really into it, and I was nodding my head happily along to a few of Young's hits. I remember Cinnamon Girl and Heart of gold got good receptions, and the man seemed on fine form. Even had an artist creating some improptu painting upon stage with him.
I had to leave Deerhunter pretty early on, due to someone drinking too much Jagermeister, which is a shame as I would have liked to have seen them in these kind of circumstances. I saw them a couple of weeks back, and I can tell you that the bassist seemed a lot happier in sunny Spain than a dingy London venue.
Caught most of Sonic Youth, and enjoyed them to an extent. Kim Gordon was the real heartbeat of the band, bellowing out determinedly at the crowd, and they seemed pretty tight. But it did make me realise that I don't really like their music that much. Just too discordant and harsh for me, even though I'm a fan of bands like Codeine and Slint, this doesn't really sit with me.
A smattering of Simian Mobile Disco and then back to a final hurrah with the ATP stage DJ's. Again, wonderful. Danced like a loon to the best of alternative 90's rock, then sat out the ones I didn't know. Watched people go crazy dancing to soul classics. A great end to the festival.
Other things that happened to me:
-Absolutely deranged girl sidles up beside me during Spiritualized, completely wasted and wearing only a bikini top and shorts. On one wrist, she'd sellotaped 6 or 7 of those shot tubes to herself, on the other there was a paper cup sellotaped round her wrist. I thought she might have been a drug addict. It got even weirder when she started nudging me, then whispers "It doesnt matter if you're naked or not, it's ok to be naked", and starts to pull up my shirt. This, all during the daytime performance of Spiritualized. I actually had to jog to the front to get away from her. The funny thing was, we exchanged a knowing glance the next day, and she looked completely normal and pretty embarrassed.
-Meet the Faith Healers through a mutual acquaintance, realise they were in Quickspace, the singer tells me I'm 'pale but pretty'.
-My friend decides to drink 17 Jagermeisters over the course of an hour. Misses Sonic Youth, Neil Young, Deerhunter, completely out of it, throws up on himself.
-Awkward handshake with Eddie Argos
Just the best.
Thu 28 May – Primavera Sound 2009
Toto the hero
I watched this about a month ago. It was pretty good.
It's a Belgian movie about a young boy called Thomas. As a baby, Thomas is involved in a hospital fire- everybody flees the scene, but when they go back to collect Thomas, they cannot differentiate between him and the baby in the next cot. His mother picks up the wrong baby, meaning Thomas grows up in a modest household, while the other baby, Alfred, grows up across the street in a big, lavish house. This is the basic thread of the film. Thomas ends up resenting Alfred, and this takes on a lifelong obsession.
The film, directed by Jaco van Dormael, is almost like a piece of magical realist cinema in that it frequently soars into flights of fancy, Thomas' childhood populated by surreal daydreams. It is this dreamlike quality that lifts the film up above usual coming of age tales. The wide-eyed wonderment of youth is artfully and emotionally evoked. Thomas contends with young love (his 'sister' Evelyne) and the archetypal bully (Alfred). The town neighbourhood is sentimentally portrayed in rich, golden hues and perfect houses and yards. It's not 'til later in the film does Thomas realise the reality of adulthood, and the exteriors become dull.
Still obsessed with the perceived theft of his luxurious life, the adult Thomas struggles to make his way in life- he tolerates his boring job, and pursues a woman who is the spitting image of Evelyne, in a similar way to the characters in Vertigo. Chance (but obviously important) meetings with Alfred crop up, allowing comparison between their two diverging paths. It's not entirely easy to categorise Toto the hero; there are moments of humour, but this is perhaps over powered by melancholy and heart ache; it works well as a coming of age tale, but also has a vested interest in old age and mortality. Whatever it is, it is a quite unique portrait of a bittersweet life.
7.5/10
It's a Belgian movie about a young boy called Thomas. As a baby, Thomas is involved in a hospital fire- everybody flees the scene, but when they go back to collect Thomas, they cannot differentiate between him and the baby in the next cot. His mother picks up the wrong baby, meaning Thomas grows up in a modest household, while the other baby, Alfred, grows up across the street in a big, lavish house. This is the basic thread of the film. Thomas ends up resenting Alfred, and this takes on a lifelong obsession.
The film, directed by Jaco van Dormael, is almost like a piece of magical realist cinema in that it frequently soars into flights of fancy, Thomas' childhood populated by surreal daydreams. It is this dreamlike quality that lifts the film up above usual coming of age tales. The wide-eyed wonderment of youth is artfully and emotionally evoked. Thomas contends with young love (his 'sister' Evelyne) and the archetypal bully (Alfred). The town neighbourhood is sentimentally portrayed in rich, golden hues and perfect houses and yards. It's not 'til later in the film does Thomas realise the reality of adulthood, and the exteriors become dull.
Still obsessed with the perceived theft of his luxurious life, the adult Thomas struggles to make his way in life- he tolerates his boring job, and pursues a woman who is the spitting image of Evelyne, in a similar way to the characters in Vertigo. Chance (but obviously important) meetings with Alfred crop up, allowing comparison between their two diverging paths. It's not entirely easy to categorise Toto the hero; there are moments of humour, but this is perhaps over powered by melancholy and heart ache; it works well as a coming of age tale, but also has a vested interest in old age and mortality. Whatever it is, it is a quite unique portrait of a bittersweet life.
7.5/10
The Pillow Book
The Pillow Book is a Peter Greenaway film from 1996. Set in Japan, the story tells of a young Japanese woman who tries to find a suitable lover to write on her body, and vice versa. We learn how this obsession was founded in a series of short flashbacks to her youth. Her father, a writer/calligrapher, celebrates her birthday each year by writing a few verses on her back. Once she grows up, Nagiko (Vivian Wu) seeks to carry on her father's tradition.
Nagiko ends up prostituting herself out in exchange for the opportunity to experiment with her body calligraphy. She realises the white skinned Europeans act as a much better 'paper' to write on, which leads us to a chance meeting with Jerome (Ewan McGregor), a British writer. The two begin a volatile relationship, and when the idea of money and fame appears tragedy inevitably strikes.
The Pillow Book is certainly not up there with Greenaway's best films. It is an interesting experiment, not a failure, but not an overwhelming success. Like much of his other work, Greenaway mixes art and literature, this time calligraphy the focus of his endeavours. The decoration or manipulation of the body is also present in the cooked body of 'The cook, the thief...' and the photographed decay of the brothers in 'A Z and two noughts'. Greenway has an obsession with death and decay, stemming from his interest in the baroque art movement. The two lovers and their downfall is also very Greenaway, based on the German tragedies of the 17th century.
Although the film is well composed and atmospheric, the visuals are not of the same standard of previous works. The dramatic lighting, strong colours and lavish sets are disposed of for a more toned down, contemporary setting. The film is quite a departure in this regard. The performance by Vivian Wu is strong, though I wouldn't say I ever really cared for her, but Ewan McGregor looked quite out of place, his appearance irritating me at every turn. So the romantic aspect of the film had no where near the power of the lovers in 'The cook, the thief...', which was genuinely moving (yeah, even in a Greenway film).
I'd give this a 6.5/10.
Nagiko ends up prostituting herself out in exchange for the opportunity to experiment with her body calligraphy. She realises the white skinned Europeans act as a much better 'paper' to write on, which leads us to a chance meeting with Jerome (Ewan McGregor), a British writer. The two begin a volatile relationship, and when the idea of money and fame appears tragedy inevitably strikes.
The Pillow Book is certainly not up there with Greenaway's best films. It is an interesting experiment, not a failure, but not an overwhelming success. Like much of his other work, Greenaway mixes art and literature, this time calligraphy the focus of his endeavours. The decoration or manipulation of the body is also present in the cooked body of 'The cook, the thief...' and the photographed decay of the brothers in 'A Z and two noughts'. Greenway has an obsession with death and decay, stemming from his interest in the baroque art movement. The two lovers and their downfall is also very Greenaway, based on the German tragedies of the 17th century.
Although the film is well composed and atmospheric, the visuals are not of the same standard of previous works. The dramatic lighting, strong colours and lavish sets are disposed of for a more toned down, contemporary setting. The film is quite a departure in this regard. The performance by Vivian Wu is strong, though I wouldn't say I ever really cared for her, but Ewan McGregor looked quite out of place, his appearance irritating me at every turn. So the romantic aspect of the film had no where near the power of the lovers in 'The cook, the thief...', which was genuinely moving (yeah, even in a Greenway film).
I'd give this a 6.5/10.
Let The Right One In
Let The Right One In is a Swedish vampire film directed by Tomas Alfredson. It tells the story of Eli and Oskar, two young kids who strike up a friendship, despite Eli's mysterious background.
Set in a snowy Swedish town, Let The Right One In takes the intriguing path of demystifying the vampire genre. It's more Ken Loach than say Nosferatu, more interested in the lives of the townsfolk than cheap scares. Oskar, a blond, timid child, lives with his mother in a block of flats. Terrorised by bullies, Oskar finds solace in the arrival of Eli and her 'father'. With the aid of a rubix cube, the two begin to grow fond of each other.
Then, of course, there's the issues of the bloodsucking. The film takes a realist view at the existence of a vampire; the social isolation, the conflict between forging relationships and the need for blood, and the tricky task of getting it. There's a couple of grizzly but discreet scenes where the father goes off to slaughter a couple of townsfolk. Instead of the horrific yet romanticised slayings of vampire films, we get bumbling efforts, riddled with self loathing and fear.
Much of the film rests on the conflict between Eli's vice and her relationship with Oskar; is it dangerous to be get too close to a creature of the night? The young actors performances portray a touching relationship of loneliness and longing, and her father presents a surprisingly melancholic figure. Not only does the film work on a dramatic front as the chills and thrills puncture the screen every so often. The chilly town is a fitting venue for the story.
It's quite beautifully shot as well; I sat mesmerised as the gentle snow dropped down over the opening credits. The icy landscape is captured vividly and the music, though sometimes a little heavy handed, added to the ambience.
8/10
Set in a snowy Swedish town, Let The Right One In takes the intriguing path of demystifying the vampire genre. It's more Ken Loach than say Nosferatu, more interested in the lives of the townsfolk than cheap scares. Oskar, a blond, timid child, lives with his mother in a block of flats. Terrorised by bullies, Oskar finds solace in the arrival of Eli and her 'father'. With the aid of a rubix cube, the two begin to grow fond of each other.
Then, of course, there's the issues of the bloodsucking. The film takes a realist view at the existence of a vampire; the social isolation, the conflict between forging relationships and the need for blood, and the tricky task of getting it. There's a couple of grizzly but discreet scenes where the father goes off to slaughter a couple of townsfolk. Instead of the horrific yet romanticised slayings of vampire films, we get bumbling efforts, riddled with self loathing and fear.
Much of the film rests on the conflict between Eli's vice and her relationship with Oskar; is it dangerous to be get too close to a creature of the night? The young actors performances portray a touching relationship of loneliness and longing, and her father presents a surprisingly melancholic figure. Not only does the film work on a dramatic front as the chills and thrills puncture the screen every so often. The chilly town is a fitting venue for the story.
It's quite beautifully shot as well; I sat mesmerised as the gentle snow dropped down over the opening credits. The icy landscape is captured vividly and the music, though sometimes a little heavy handed, added to the ambience.
8/10
MIlk
I'm a big fan of Gus Van Sant's movies. Always interesting and sensual.
'Milk' is Van Sant's biopic of Harvey Milk, the gay San Francisco politician who campaigned for gay rights, and was eventually assassinated. I think for a lot of people, particularly my generation, Van Sant has brought a public figure to life who they weren't familiar with. I'd heard the name mentioned on occasion (there's even a band named Harvey Milk), but wasn't that knowledgeable about his story.
Dustin Lance Black's script begins with Milk's (Sean Penn) chance meeting with longtime lover Scotty (James Franco). Although we have generally accepted gay culture into society, there are still much less depictions of gay relationships on screen. In a few intimate scenes, we see Milk as a human being and a romantic, rather than a public figure. Here we can see what he is fighting for in the first place.
Van Sant moves onto the politics fairly quickly. Police brutality and attacks on homosexuals lead Milk onto the path of city supervisor. Assembling a small team of disillusioned gay males, they start picketing the locals and organising mass marches. It's stirring stuff, especially when Milk cries to the baying crowd "I know you're angry.....I'M ANGRY!!". Penn's turn as Milk is superb, giving the audience a figure who is passionate, humorous and courageous.
The final scenes hit home the hardest, leaving me a bit shaken heading out of the cinema. One of the final shots, of a parade of candles shining in a city street, in tribute to Milk, is quite stunning. In fact, the whole film is as visually immaculate as you might expect from Van Sant. The film has a slightly bleached out, grainy feel in tune with the 70's films it is replicating. The score by Danny Elfman is delicate and evocative, while Van Sant gives proceedings a dramatic air with carefully chosen opera songs.
Excellent acting, a sharp script and evocative cinematography. Van Sant also has to be complimented for the tricky task of balancing his artistic, experimental tendencies with the importance of the story. While Milk satisfies on a visual and sensual level, it is perhaps more importantly a great depiction of the era and the man.
8/10
'Milk' is Van Sant's biopic of Harvey Milk, the gay San Francisco politician who campaigned for gay rights, and was eventually assassinated. I think for a lot of people, particularly my generation, Van Sant has brought a public figure to life who they weren't familiar with. I'd heard the name mentioned on occasion (there's even a band named Harvey Milk), but wasn't that knowledgeable about his story.
Dustin Lance Black's script begins with Milk's (Sean Penn) chance meeting with longtime lover Scotty (James Franco). Although we have generally accepted gay culture into society, there are still much less depictions of gay relationships on screen. In a few intimate scenes, we see Milk as a human being and a romantic, rather than a public figure. Here we can see what he is fighting for in the first place.
Van Sant moves onto the politics fairly quickly. Police brutality and attacks on homosexuals lead Milk onto the path of city supervisor. Assembling a small team of disillusioned gay males, they start picketing the locals and organising mass marches. It's stirring stuff, especially when Milk cries to the baying crowd "I know you're angry.....I'M ANGRY!!". Penn's turn as Milk is superb, giving the audience a figure who is passionate, humorous and courageous.
The final scenes hit home the hardest, leaving me a bit shaken heading out of the cinema. One of the final shots, of a parade of candles shining in a city street, in tribute to Milk, is quite stunning. In fact, the whole film is as visually immaculate as you might expect from Van Sant. The film has a slightly bleached out, grainy feel in tune with the 70's films it is replicating. The score by Danny Elfman is delicate and evocative, while Van Sant gives proceedings a dramatic air with carefully chosen opera songs.
Excellent acting, a sharp script and evocative cinematography. Van Sant also has to be complimented for the tricky task of balancing his artistic, experimental tendencies with the importance of the story. While Milk satisfies on a visual and sensual level, it is perhaps more importantly a great depiction of the era and the man.
8/10
Spartacus
I'M SPARTACUS! NO, I'M SPARTACUS!!, etc., etc.
As I slowly devour Stanley Kubrick's back catalogue, I stumble upon this grand antique-Spartacus- Kubrick's 1960 swords and sandals epic about the leader of a slave revolution. To say this is a Kubrick film is slightly misleading when you consider his other works. For one, it was brought together by Kirk Douglas, wanting to get his own back on the Ben Hur producers for snubbing him, and secondly because Kubrick only took over when Anthony Mann left the project. In all honesty, I struggle to see Kubrick's stamp on the film. It looks great, but doesn't really look like a Kubrick film.
The story follows Kirk Douglas' Spartacus as he is whisked off from his slave duties and forced to become a gladiator. While at the training camp he falls in love with a slave maid, Varinia, and encounters Batiatus (Peter Ustinov), the owner of the camp. Cue many training montages that have become the staple of sporting movies ever since. While I found the precious, forbidden desire scenes between Spartacus and Varinia err on the side of nauseating, Ustinov's turn as the sly slave owner is quite superb. His little nuances and the way he plays off the actors is surprising, given the assumption that a big budget epic like this would quell any flamboyance in the actors.
A couple of Roman senators arrive to watch a duel at the camp, and the slaves are dismayed to find it's a fight to the death. Here we are introduced to Crassus (Laurence Olivier), a devious and somewhat vindictive man. Alongside Ustinov, Olivier is one of the star performers. I must admit this is my first encounter with Olivier on screen. What struck me was the considerable talent he had for the suggestion of a thought process in his character; subtle facial expressions hinting at inner dilemmas. Quite refreshing against Douglas' full blooded, heart-on-the sleeve turn.
Incensed by the cruelty of this, the slaves revolt and escape form their confines. Spartacus rounds up the troops and leads them towards the coast, so they can escape back to their homelands. Here the film switches into a full blown epic, all stirring speeches and vast landscapes. Luckily, the action switches between the slaves plight and the politicians in Rome, offering the audience a bit of a breather in the face of continuously earnest outpourings from Douglas.
The final battle is actually remarkably short and the shot choices rather odd for a fight scene. There are some great shots of the battle formation shots, and the resources on show are staggering. Unlike films like Gladiator, which had the help of CGI, Spartacus looks like it did actually have a cast of thousands. I think the film is redeemed somewhat by the aftermath of the battle; there is a sense of tragedy and contemplation in proceedings. It helps when there are such capable actors as Olivier, adding a sense of gravitas.
For me, the stars of the show were the cinematography, which is crisp and clear and captures the landscapes beautifully, and the two performances by Ustinov and Olivier.
8/10
As I slowly devour Stanley Kubrick's back catalogue, I stumble upon this grand antique-Spartacus- Kubrick's 1960 swords and sandals epic about the leader of a slave revolution. To say this is a Kubrick film is slightly misleading when you consider his other works. For one, it was brought together by Kirk Douglas, wanting to get his own back on the Ben Hur producers for snubbing him, and secondly because Kubrick only took over when Anthony Mann left the project. In all honesty, I struggle to see Kubrick's stamp on the film. It looks great, but doesn't really look like a Kubrick film.
The story follows Kirk Douglas' Spartacus as he is whisked off from his slave duties and forced to become a gladiator. While at the training camp he falls in love with a slave maid, Varinia, and encounters Batiatus (Peter Ustinov), the owner of the camp. Cue many training montages that have become the staple of sporting movies ever since. While I found the precious, forbidden desire scenes between Spartacus and Varinia err on the side of nauseating, Ustinov's turn as the sly slave owner is quite superb. His little nuances and the way he plays off the actors is surprising, given the assumption that a big budget epic like this would quell any flamboyance in the actors.
A couple of Roman senators arrive to watch a duel at the camp, and the slaves are dismayed to find it's a fight to the death. Here we are introduced to Crassus (Laurence Olivier), a devious and somewhat vindictive man. Alongside Ustinov, Olivier is one of the star performers. I must admit this is my first encounter with Olivier on screen. What struck me was the considerable talent he had for the suggestion of a thought process in his character; subtle facial expressions hinting at inner dilemmas. Quite refreshing against Douglas' full blooded, heart-on-the sleeve turn.
Incensed by the cruelty of this, the slaves revolt and escape form their confines. Spartacus rounds up the troops and leads them towards the coast, so they can escape back to their homelands. Here the film switches into a full blown epic, all stirring speeches and vast landscapes. Luckily, the action switches between the slaves plight and the politicians in Rome, offering the audience a bit of a breather in the face of continuously earnest outpourings from Douglas.
The final battle is actually remarkably short and the shot choices rather odd for a fight scene. There are some great shots of the battle formation shots, and the resources on show are staggering. Unlike films like Gladiator, which had the help of CGI, Spartacus looks like it did actually have a cast of thousands. I think the film is redeemed somewhat by the aftermath of the battle; there is a sense of tragedy and contemplation in proceedings. It helps when there are such capable actors as Olivier, adding a sense of gravitas.
For me, the stars of the show were the cinematography, which is crisp and clear and captures the landscapes beautifully, and the two performances by Ustinov and Olivier.
8/10
A Place To bury Strangers at KCLSU, 6th April 2009
Mon 6 Apr – A Place to Bury Strangers, Darker My Love and Dead Confederate
On some nights you're lucky if you get one good performance; tonight the crowd of baying noise lovers got three.
To start things off in dramatic fashion were the Dead Confederates, from Athens, Georgia. The five members create quite a racket, somewhere between grunge and post rock. Swooping guitar climaxes and moody instrumentals are their forte, led by frontman Hardy Morris' pained delivery. The vocalist/guitarist stomps insolently at the front of the stage, his lean frame and slacker fringe lending him a childish air. Not that he or his troupe were apathetic; quite the opposite. Their dark, slightly Southern Gothic brand of post rock is delivered with serious intensity. The drums drums crash with vigour and the guitars burn with great fire and angst. It was quite something to behold.
Darker my love were up against a sterling previous performance but held their own against two heavyweight noise mongers. More reminiscent of bands like BRMC, Mad Action and the like, they had the added weapon of versatility in their bow. The fuzzy, bluesy stomp reminiscent of 'Spread your love' would slyly transform into a droney lullaby then zip into a krautrock groove. All in the space of one song. Impressive.
The last time I saw APTBS, I have to admit I was underwhelmed. It was at a pokey London bar, The Social, and the addictive, catchy, sinister songs of their debut were reduced to dirgey noise. The band grew tired easily and ended their set swiftly. Perhaps that encounter had left me with lesser hopes for this show, but I appreciated this performance a lot better.
Just before the band ready themselves, Oliver Ackermann, leader of the New York trio, steps on his infamous collection of guitar pedals. My word. What an inhuman, unnatural squall of noise. it sounds like a thousand banshees drowning. A group of fans gather excitedly around the pedals. Not since My Bloody Valentine have a few pedals achieved such reverence.
Their set is terrifying, thrilling, hypnotic. Ackermann looms over the crowd arching and careening wildly across the stage, wielding his guitar like it's ready to attack him. The scattergun drums of the record are admirably replicated, the bass loud and foreboding. The band offer up a batch of new songs; one which stuck out was a mainly instrumental piece, with a hint of Japanese influence running through it. Although the sound isn't perfect, and the vocals are still lost in the whirlwind of sound, the songs come through much better. 'To fix a gash in your head', is especially thrilling.
The band play against a striking visual background, moody black and white abstractions complimenting the music. At one point a strobe show enforces the audience into a hallucinatory trance, exacerbated by the sinister drones emanating from the guitars. A couple of drunks flay wildly in the crowd, and there are hints of things turning ugly. Ackermann stops and stares out blankly at the crowd, then launches into a ferocious assault on his guitar, he spins and slams it against the floor, and for a few moments you feel unsafe.
But then guitars screech to a halt, the drums fade and the three men walk off dazed. In a few hours, your ears will begin ringing but you'll know it was all worth it.
On some nights you're lucky if you get one good performance; tonight the crowd of baying noise lovers got three.
To start things off in dramatic fashion were the Dead Confederates, from Athens, Georgia. The five members create quite a racket, somewhere between grunge and post rock. Swooping guitar climaxes and moody instrumentals are their forte, led by frontman Hardy Morris' pained delivery. The vocalist/guitarist stomps insolently at the front of the stage, his lean frame and slacker fringe lending him a childish air. Not that he or his troupe were apathetic; quite the opposite. Their dark, slightly Southern Gothic brand of post rock is delivered with serious intensity. The drums drums crash with vigour and the guitars burn with great fire and angst. It was quite something to behold.
Darker my love were up against a sterling previous performance but held their own against two heavyweight noise mongers. More reminiscent of bands like BRMC, Mad Action and the like, they had the added weapon of versatility in their bow. The fuzzy, bluesy stomp reminiscent of 'Spread your love' would slyly transform into a droney lullaby then zip into a krautrock groove. All in the space of one song. Impressive.
The last time I saw APTBS, I have to admit I was underwhelmed. It was at a pokey London bar, The Social, and the addictive, catchy, sinister songs of their debut were reduced to dirgey noise. The band grew tired easily and ended their set swiftly. Perhaps that encounter had left me with lesser hopes for this show, but I appreciated this performance a lot better.
Just before the band ready themselves, Oliver Ackermann, leader of the New York trio, steps on his infamous collection of guitar pedals. My word. What an inhuman, unnatural squall of noise. it sounds like a thousand banshees drowning. A group of fans gather excitedly around the pedals. Not since My Bloody Valentine have a few pedals achieved such reverence.
Their set is terrifying, thrilling, hypnotic. Ackermann looms over the crowd arching and careening wildly across the stage, wielding his guitar like it's ready to attack him. The scattergun drums of the record are admirably replicated, the bass loud and foreboding. The band offer up a batch of new songs; one which stuck out was a mainly instrumental piece, with a hint of Japanese influence running through it. Although the sound isn't perfect, and the vocals are still lost in the whirlwind of sound, the songs come through much better. 'To fix a gash in your head', is especially thrilling.
The band play against a striking visual background, moody black and white abstractions complimenting the music. At one point a strobe show enforces the audience into a hallucinatory trance, exacerbated by the sinister drones emanating from the guitars. A couple of drunks flay wildly in the crowd, and there are hints of things turning ugly. Ackermann stops and stares out blankly at the crowd, then launches into a ferocious assault on his guitar, he spins and slams it against the floor, and for a few moments you feel unsafe.
But then guitars screech to a halt, the drums fade and the three men walk off dazed. In a few hours, your ears will begin ringing but you'll know it was all worth it.
Romanzo Criminale
Romanzo Criminale was released in the UK in 2006. It was directed by Michele Placido.
The blurb on the poster describes it as "Goodfellas meets The Godfather". It's not far wrong, though of course it's vastly inferior to those two films. Set in Italy, the film follows a group of childhood friends as they morph into petty criminals and big shot gangsters. Starting off in Rome 1960's, the film spans a couple of decades into the 1980's. In the first sequence we are introduced to the young friends, all given nicknames- Lebanese (the volatile leader), Ice (devoted best friend) and Dandy (intelligent but cowardly). The boys break into a car and are tracked down by police. The importance of this sequence is to show they are embedded in this life of crime from an early age and to establish characteristics of the main players.
The editing is snappy and you have to keep up with the frenetic pacing of events. In the next scene the director has cut to around 15 years later, where Ice is released from jail, and is being awaited by Lebanese. Quick as a flash, Lebanese tells him about a kidnapping scheme, and the ball starts rolling. There are lots of empty spaces in the film, where the audience is supposed to connect things together. It doesn't work too badly; the film has a high energy and it's entertaining, though I have some reservations whether it's style over substance.
The first half of the film is made up of the trio's ascent to the top of the mafia pile. This entails cold blooded murder, blackmail and general bloodbaths. Of course, it's all done in a stylish fashion. At this point in the film the relationships between the three are relatively content. It's the inevitable introduction of women and greed into the film that signals the decline of the empire.
If the first half of the film is caught up in the glorious heyday of the ascent, then the second wallows in the misery of the descent. In house fighting occurs when Lebanese has to contend with Ice's new girlfriend, and Dandy starts to feel the temptation of riches. All obvious staples of the the mafia/drug dealer genre, but Placido's film is engaging enough not to let them make the film grow stale.
While Romanzo Criminale never scales the emotional dramatics of the Godfather, nor the visceral bloodletting of Goodfellas, it does enough to stand up on its own two feet. The performances are steely and confident, the film looks and sounds great and it offers up another convincing portrayal of greed and dishonesty.
7/10
The blurb on the poster describes it as "Goodfellas meets The Godfather". It's not far wrong, though of course it's vastly inferior to those two films. Set in Italy, the film follows a group of childhood friends as they morph into petty criminals and big shot gangsters. Starting off in Rome 1960's, the film spans a couple of decades into the 1980's. In the first sequence we are introduced to the young friends, all given nicknames- Lebanese (the volatile leader), Ice (devoted best friend) and Dandy (intelligent but cowardly). The boys break into a car and are tracked down by police. The importance of this sequence is to show they are embedded in this life of crime from an early age and to establish characteristics of the main players.
The editing is snappy and you have to keep up with the frenetic pacing of events. In the next scene the director has cut to around 15 years later, where Ice is released from jail, and is being awaited by Lebanese. Quick as a flash, Lebanese tells him about a kidnapping scheme, and the ball starts rolling. There are lots of empty spaces in the film, where the audience is supposed to connect things together. It doesn't work too badly; the film has a high energy and it's entertaining, though I have some reservations whether it's style over substance.
The first half of the film is made up of the trio's ascent to the top of the mafia pile. This entails cold blooded murder, blackmail and general bloodbaths. Of course, it's all done in a stylish fashion. At this point in the film the relationships between the three are relatively content. It's the inevitable introduction of women and greed into the film that signals the decline of the empire.
If the first half of the film is caught up in the glorious heyday of the ascent, then the second wallows in the misery of the descent. In house fighting occurs when Lebanese has to contend with Ice's new girlfriend, and Dandy starts to feel the temptation of riches. All obvious staples of the the mafia/drug dealer genre, but Placido's film is engaging enough not to let them make the film grow stale.
While Romanzo Criminale never scales the emotional dramatics of the Godfather, nor the visceral bloodletting of Goodfellas, it does enough to stand up on its own two feet. The performances are steely and confident, the film looks and sounds great and it offers up another convincing portrayal of greed and dishonesty.
7/10
The Class
The Class was apparently released in 2006, but won the Palme D'Or at Cannes last year. Directed by Lauren Cantet, it was adapted by François Bégaudeau from his own book, and he also stars as teacher. Bégaudeau was actually a teacher in a mixed race Paris school, so his screenplay and performance takes on extra depth and accuracy.
Cantet's film is intended to be a highly authentic slice of school life, primarily focused on the classroom, but also delving into the outside politics surrounding his work. Bégaudeau teaches a class of 14-15 year olds, of various different nationalities and in some cases beliefs. Like most classes, there is a mix of strong, outspoken characters and other students who prefer to fade into the background. Bégaudeau's screenplay seems very authentic and realises there is no need to invent drama in the classroom; there is already tensions waiting to surface. Bégaudeau is almost playing himself, you would think. A young, somewhat idealistic but well intentioned teacher, struggling to keep his charges under control while battling the hypocrisy of the school authorities.
The teacher has his flaws to counterpoint his good points; at one important point he blurts out that a couple of girls were "acting like skanks", but we as an audience can see his thought process behind the statement, even if both audience and actor known he was wrong to say it. This is one of he strong points of the film; there is little black and white. Often the dilemmas are difficult and unresolved. The film takes a magnifying glass to school protocol and poses some difficult questions.
In accordance with the authenticity of the film, there is no music and the film is shot in an inobtrusive manner using handheld camera, though it is relatively steady. The dialogue and interaction between the students and the teachers is underplayed barring a few choice sequences. Cantet allows the characters and their situations time to breathe, and that's ultimately what makes the film work. We care for the students and the teachers plight, empathise with their flaws and worry about their destination.
8/10
Cantet's film is intended to be a highly authentic slice of school life, primarily focused on the classroom, but also delving into the outside politics surrounding his work. Bégaudeau teaches a class of 14-15 year olds, of various different nationalities and in some cases beliefs. Like most classes, there is a mix of strong, outspoken characters and other students who prefer to fade into the background. Bégaudeau's screenplay seems very authentic and realises there is no need to invent drama in the classroom; there is already tensions waiting to surface. Bégaudeau is almost playing himself, you would think. A young, somewhat idealistic but well intentioned teacher, struggling to keep his charges under control while battling the hypocrisy of the school authorities.
The teacher has his flaws to counterpoint his good points; at one important point he blurts out that a couple of girls were "acting like skanks", but we as an audience can see his thought process behind the statement, even if both audience and actor known he was wrong to say it. This is one of he strong points of the film; there is little black and white. Often the dilemmas are difficult and unresolved. The film takes a magnifying glass to school protocol and poses some difficult questions.
In accordance with the authenticity of the film, there is no music and the film is shot in an inobtrusive manner using handheld camera, though it is relatively steady. The dialogue and interaction between the students and the teachers is underplayed barring a few choice sequences. Cantet allows the characters and their situations time to breathe, and that's ultimately what makes the film work. We care for the students and the teachers plight, empathise with their flaws and worry about their destination.
8/10
Amants du Pont-Neuf, Les
Leos Carax has swiftly entered my list of favourite directors. Last year I purchased a boxset of 3 of the French auteur's films, on a whim. I'd never heard of him before, but the descriptions were intriguing. Godardian, visually striking, poetic- yup, I was sold.
Les Amants du Pont-Neuf was the film that the boxset didn't include. The 1991 film could easily be seen as a companion piece to 'Boy meets Girl', the highlight of those three films. Again, the film revolves around Denis Lavant and Juliette Binoche as two would be lovers. Although Binoche had defiantly broken through onto the international markets, I believe both are highly regarded in France. Lavant recently appeared in Harmony Korine's 'Mister Lonely', along with director Leos Carax. It is clear that the trio have a good working relationship- Carax works to their strengths-Lavant's incredible physicality and Binoche's emotional versatility. In this film, the two play two homeless loners, brought together by the Paris bridge that they both frequent.
The bridge is under construction but lies delapidated, inhabited only by them and a shabby and world weary tramp. This old man supplies the drugs for Alex's (Lavant) heroin addiction, while offering him advice and warning him off Michele (Binoche). Michele is something of an enigma, a beautiful young woman whose eyepatch signals her impending blindness. Throughout the film Carax hints at a pleasant former life.
There is little interaction in conventional settings, such as restaurants, apartments, public spaces. Much of the action takes place on the bridge, where the two reflect on their situations and explore their new found companion. As the film progresses, the two turn to cunning con schemes and hedonistic excess to enliven their meagre existences. Towards the end of the film there is a truly stunning sequence where Paris is lit up by an explosion of fireworks, triggering a beautifully choreographed dance sequence between the two lovers. It is one of those scenes which cinema was invented for. Visually stunning and exhilarating.
Carax combines sweeping classical pieces with the stark landscape of the Paris bridge to great effect. Carax's film works on a different level to most films. They are hyper realised, elegant, physical and joyous. The relationship between the two main actors is touching and engaging, the scenery striking, the choreography and music brilliantly synchronised.
8/10
Les Amants du Pont-Neuf was the film that the boxset didn't include. The 1991 film could easily be seen as a companion piece to 'Boy meets Girl', the highlight of those three films. Again, the film revolves around Denis Lavant and Juliette Binoche as two would be lovers. Although Binoche had defiantly broken through onto the international markets, I believe both are highly regarded in France. Lavant recently appeared in Harmony Korine's 'Mister Lonely', along with director Leos Carax. It is clear that the trio have a good working relationship- Carax works to their strengths-Lavant's incredible physicality and Binoche's emotional versatility. In this film, the two play two homeless loners, brought together by the Paris bridge that they both frequent.
The bridge is under construction but lies delapidated, inhabited only by them and a shabby and world weary tramp. This old man supplies the drugs for Alex's (Lavant) heroin addiction, while offering him advice and warning him off Michele (Binoche). Michele is something of an enigma, a beautiful young woman whose eyepatch signals her impending blindness. Throughout the film Carax hints at a pleasant former life.
There is little interaction in conventional settings, such as restaurants, apartments, public spaces. Much of the action takes place on the bridge, where the two reflect on their situations and explore their new found companion. As the film progresses, the two turn to cunning con schemes and hedonistic excess to enliven their meagre existences. Towards the end of the film there is a truly stunning sequence where Paris is lit up by an explosion of fireworks, triggering a beautifully choreographed dance sequence between the two lovers. It is one of those scenes which cinema was invented for. Visually stunning and exhilarating.
Carax combines sweeping classical pieces with the stark landscape of the Paris bridge to great effect. Carax's film works on a different level to most films. They are hyper realised, elegant, physical and joyous. The relationship between the two main actors is touching and engaging, the scenery striking, the choreography and music brilliantly synchronised.
8/10
Funny Haha
It pisses me off a little when films are aligned with hipster/indie credentials. I don't want great films to be associated with crap twee music and sentimental rubbish. Films should be able to exist in their own right, without the interference of this pollution.
The makers of Funny Haha, namely Andrew Bujalski, seems to have almost made the film equivalent of a Los Campesinos! song. Overly self conscious, twee, pretentious, and riddled with mumbling, feeble characters. But it kinda works. It was fairly watchable, had a nice flow to it and at times I did feel myself sympathising for the main character Marnie. Having said that, my main gripe is that there appears to be some scene emerging form this, Mumblecore. I don't feel comfortable with the idea that mumbling, feeble characters should be the core of a film scene.
I watched 'In search of a midnight kiss', a little while back, which has also been linked with the mumblecore scene. That film fared better because there was more of a storyline, more rounded performances and actual humour. I didn't find anything funny in this film. It was pretty mopey. The issues in the film were irritating- I don't really care about playground gossip, which this film basically relied on. If I was to compare it to other films, I would have to say it's like a crap Cassavete's film (in that's it very lofi and improvisational) or Eric Rohmer film (in that it follows a melancholic young woman wandering aimlessly). Rohmer's films are actually very articulate and interesting though, where this is mostly mumbled nonsense. People don't really talk like this in real life.
6/10
The makers of Funny Haha, namely Andrew Bujalski, seems to have almost made the film equivalent of a Los Campesinos! song. Overly self conscious, twee, pretentious, and riddled with mumbling, feeble characters. But it kinda works. It was fairly watchable, had a nice flow to it and at times I did feel myself sympathising for the main character Marnie. Having said that, my main gripe is that there appears to be some scene emerging form this, Mumblecore. I don't feel comfortable with the idea that mumbling, feeble characters should be the core of a film scene.
I watched 'In search of a midnight kiss', a little while back, which has also been linked with the mumblecore scene. That film fared better because there was more of a storyline, more rounded performances and actual humour. I didn't find anything funny in this film. It was pretty mopey. The issues in the film were irritating- I don't really care about playground gossip, which this film basically relied on. If I was to compare it to other films, I would have to say it's like a crap Cassavete's film (in that's it very lofi and improvisational) or Eric Rohmer film (in that it follows a melancholic young woman wandering aimlessly). Rohmer's films are actually very articulate and interesting though, where this is mostly mumbled nonsense. People don't really talk like this in real life.
6/10
Army in the shadows (Armée des ombres, L')
Army in the shadows is one of director Jean Pierre Melville's later work. It was released in the UK in 1978.
Melville was famous for his icy cool pictures about gangsters, but this passion project set Melville on a different path. Army in the shadows is about a group of French resistance fighters during the period where Nazi's occupied France. The main lead is Lino Ventura playing Philippe Gerbier, the ringleader. We first meet him as a prisoner in a camp, full of dissidents and potential troublemakers. The camp contains numerous different nationalities and races, all joined together their oppression. One of the chilling aspects of the camp (and later in the film) is the French guards and police submitting to the Nazi's forces. Melville shows the paranoiac nature of the country at that time.
Once escaped, Gerbier meets up with a band of resistance fighters. The film follows a fairly episodic format as the group embark on a series of dangerous tasks. Melville's direction is consistently cold and clinical. Every performance is low key and stern, applying the correct tone for the seriousness of the subject. The dialogue is short and snappy, never a word spoken in luxury. In previous Melville films this style could seem a bit style over substance, but here it compliments the content perfectly.
There are some ugly moments, including an uncomfortably blunt execution and treachery is rife. The film is surprisingly moving in it's depiction of the resistance's struggle; the almost family like bonds and the inevitable tragedies that ensue. Stylistically, the film is typically muted in it's colour, and the slow, careful pace is complimented by smooth camera movements and pans. It's a mature, sophisticated piece of work.
8/10
Melville was famous for his icy cool pictures about gangsters, but this passion project set Melville on a different path. Army in the shadows is about a group of French resistance fighters during the period where Nazi's occupied France. The main lead is Lino Ventura playing Philippe Gerbier, the ringleader. We first meet him as a prisoner in a camp, full of dissidents and potential troublemakers. The camp contains numerous different nationalities and races, all joined together their oppression. One of the chilling aspects of the camp (and later in the film) is the French guards and police submitting to the Nazi's forces. Melville shows the paranoiac nature of the country at that time.
Once escaped, Gerbier meets up with a band of resistance fighters. The film follows a fairly episodic format as the group embark on a series of dangerous tasks. Melville's direction is consistently cold and clinical. Every performance is low key and stern, applying the correct tone for the seriousness of the subject. The dialogue is short and snappy, never a word spoken in luxury. In previous Melville films this style could seem a bit style over substance, but here it compliments the content perfectly.
There are some ugly moments, including an uncomfortably blunt execution and treachery is rife. The film is surprisingly moving in it's depiction of the resistance's struggle; the almost family like bonds and the inevitable tragedies that ensue. Stylistically, the film is typically muted in it's colour, and the slow, careful pace is complimented by smooth camera movements and pans. It's a mature, sophisticated piece of work.
8/10
Medium Cool
Another hippy movie from 60's/70's America. This one is directed by Haskell Wexler, who moved onto be a prominent cinematographer for various notable directors, including Elia Kazan and George Lucas.
The film blends footage Wexler shot of the period with fictional scenes, creating a narrative. The period was notable for the student revolutions and the riots that resulted. Wexler actually wrote the riot scenes into the script before they'd even occurred, trusting that the riots would occur and making sure he was there to film them. The plot focuses on a journalist who ends up being censored by his employers, because of his liberal connections. As well as being a valuable snapshot of the period, the film also works as an analysis of the filmmaking process and the moral dilemmas filmmakers face. Often the filmmakers are drawn onto screen.
Being Wexler's personal project it's no surprise that it's well shot with vivid colours. Among it's high points is the cinematography.
The film blends footage Wexler shot of the period with fictional scenes, creating a narrative. The period was notable for the student revolutions and the riots that resulted. Wexler actually wrote the riot scenes into the script before they'd even occurred, trusting that the riots would occur and making sure he was there to film them. The plot focuses on a journalist who ends up being censored by his employers, because of his liberal connections. As well as being a valuable snapshot of the period, the film also works as an analysis of the filmmaking process and the moral dilemmas filmmakers face. Often the filmmakers are drawn onto screen.
Being Wexler's personal project it's no surprise that it's well shot with vivid colours. Among it's high points is the cinematography.
A short film about love
Two things to note about the title; one, it's not that short (yes, I'm being pedantic) and two, it's not really your typical love story.
Krzysztof Kieslowski is something of a darling amongst the critics and festivals, chalking up wins at Cannes on the way. His most famous films are the Three Colours Trilogy, a saga that travelled various countries and had intertwining stories. A short film about love is much more modest in it's scope but no less of an achievement. I'd take 83 minutes of this film over the whole Three Colours Trilogy, I think. The film was supposedly an expansion of a series of short films that Kieslowski made. You can kind of tell it originated as a short film, what with the few locations, the simple plotline and only a couple of characters. Not that this is criticism of the film; it still works well as a feature length and its simplicity is one of its stronger points.
A young man named Tomek lives with his friends mother in their cramped city block apartment in Poland. A similar apartment block lies parallel to theirs, where an attractive older woman lives. Tomek spends much of his free time in between menial jobs spying on the woman through his telescope. Tomek often observes as the woman welcomes in various men into her apartment to engage in meaningless sex. Like Rear Window and numerous films since, the audience ends up almost becoming the voyeur.
The film develops around Tomek's desire to infiltrate Magda's (the woman) life. This involves calling up the gas men to her apartment, sending her notices and silent calls. Kieslowski subtly explores to the two characters through their developing contact with each other. We learn more about the characters isolation, their fears and their dysfunctions. Although there is a playful score that appears every so often, the lingering memory of the film is its dependence on character looks and behaviour, using quieter moments to grab the audiences attention. I liked the relationship between the two characters; it's romantic without being suger coated, and the whole film is a masterclass in subtle storytelling.
8/10
Krzysztof Kieslowski is something of a darling amongst the critics and festivals, chalking up wins at Cannes on the way. His most famous films are the Three Colours Trilogy, a saga that travelled various countries and had intertwining stories. A short film about love is much more modest in it's scope but no less of an achievement. I'd take 83 minutes of this film over the whole Three Colours Trilogy, I think. The film was supposedly an expansion of a series of short films that Kieslowski made. You can kind of tell it originated as a short film, what with the few locations, the simple plotline and only a couple of characters. Not that this is criticism of the film; it still works well as a feature length and its simplicity is one of its stronger points.
A young man named Tomek lives with his friends mother in their cramped city block apartment in Poland. A similar apartment block lies parallel to theirs, where an attractive older woman lives. Tomek spends much of his free time in between menial jobs spying on the woman through his telescope. Tomek often observes as the woman welcomes in various men into her apartment to engage in meaningless sex. Like Rear Window and numerous films since, the audience ends up almost becoming the voyeur.
The film develops around Tomek's desire to infiltrate Magda's (the woman) life. This involves calling up the gas men to her apartment, sending her notices and silent calls. Kieslowski subtly explores to the two characters through their developing contact with each other. We learn more about the characters isolation, their fears and their dysfunctions. Although there is a playful score that appears every so often, the lingering memory of the film is its dependence on character looks and behaviour, using quieter moments to grab the audiences attention. I liked the relationship between the two characters; it's romantic without being suger coated, and the whole film is a masterclass in subtle storytelling.
8/10
Killer of Sheep
Charles Burnett made this as a student film for UCLA back in the late 70's. It has since gone on to achieve something of a cult status in the intervening years.
I first heard Burnett's film mentioned alongside Terry Malick's films (my favourite director), so my interest was piqued form then on. It supposedly had the same sort of beauty and stillness that could be seen in Malick's work. Unfortunately the film hasn't been available for very long-only recently does it seem to have been given a proper DVD release and a scattering of theatre showings. For a student film it's a tremendous piece of work. Like Chris Nolan's first mini film 'Following', it was made with little budget, featuring authentic locations that the director was familiar with and using largely non-actors. It's encouraging to young filmmakers (like myself) to see the results that can be achieved even with very little.
The film is set in a decrepit, poverty stricken American town (I'm not entirely sure where) populated by a working class black community. Through a series of loose vignettes we are introduced to the town and it's inhabitants. Henry G. Sanders, in his first role, plays Stan, a family man struggling to justify his torrid life working in a slaughterhouse (hence Killer of Sheep). Stan's household seems to be a microcosm for the wider community- working class black families being weighed down by the surroundings and their situations. In fact, the slaughterhouse seems the only place where Stan feels he has purpose, where he can reassert his masculinity.
The black and white photography (by Burnett himself) is uniformly pretty and occasionally strikingly beautiful. In one shot we see a group of young kids running along side a moving car, the camera capturing the dust hanging in the sunlight as the kids trample through the ruins of houses. The film has an episodic, non-linear structure that anticipates films such as Gummo and George Washington, and echoes Malick's work. Like Killer of Sheep, Gummo and George Washington focus on delapidated American towns and outcast communities; think maybe they took a leaf out of Burnett's book? I really like this type of editing- it's refreshing to see filmmakers challenge the audience a little and these kinds of films usually have a nice, medatitive mood and feel to them.
While I enjoyed a lot of aspects of the film, I don't think it ranks along side the films that I have previously mentioned. Killer of Sheep doesn't have that same sense of the surreal like in Korine's films, or that really, really beautiful melancholy that runs through Malick's pieces. There were moments where I felt moved by the characters, but it doesn't have that same electricity that characterise those directors work. On the plus side, its a sweetly sensual film making good use of crooning black singers, and is a welcome alternative to the world of black film which was previously defined by cheap Blaxpoitation fare.
7/10
I first heard Burnett's film mentioned alongside Terry Malick's films (my favourite director), so my interest was piqued form then on. It supposedly had the same sort of beauty and stillness that could be seen in Malick's work. Unfortunately the film hasn't been available for very long-only recently does it seem to have been given a proper DVD release and a scattering of theatre showings. For a student film it's a tremendous piece of work. Like Chris Nolan's first mini film 'Following', it was made with little budget, featuring authentic locations that the director was familiar with and using largely non-actors. It's encouraging to young filmmakers (like myself) to see the results that can be achieved even with very little.
The film is set in a decrepit, poverty stricken American town (I'm not entirely sure where) populated by a working class black community. Through a series of loose vignettes we are introduced to the town and it's inhabitants. Henry G. Sanders, in his first role, plays Stan, a family man struggling to justify his torrid life working in a slaughterhouse (hence Killer of Sheep). Stan's household seems to be a microcosm for the wider community- working class black families being weighed down by the surroundings and their situations. In fact, the slaughterhouse seems the only place where Stan feels he has purpose, where he can reassert his masculinity.
The black and white photography (by Burnett himself) is uniformly pretty and occasionally strikingly beautiful. In one shot we see a group of young kids running along side a moving car, the camera capturing the dust hanging in the sunlight as the kids trample through the ruins of houses. The film has an episodic, non-linear structure that anticipates films such as Gummo and George Washington, and echoes Malick's work. Like Killer of Sheep, Gummo and George Washington focus on delapidated American towns and outcast communities; think maybe they took a leaf out of Burnett's book? I really like this type of editing- it's refreshing to see filmmakers challenge the audience a little and these kinds of films usually have a nice, medatitive mood and feel to them.
While I enjoyed a lot of aspects of the film, I don't think it ranks along side the films that I have previously mentioned. Killer of Sheep doesn't have that same sense of the surreal like in Korine's films, or that really, really beautiful melancholy that runs through Malick's pieces. There were moments where I felt moved by the characters, but it doesn't have that same electricity that characterise those directors work. On the plus side, its a sweetly sensual film making good use of crooning black singers, and is a welcome alternative to the world of black film which was previously defined by cheap Blaxpoitation fare.
7/10
Punishment Park
KILL ALL HIPPIES.
Punishment Park is an anti-establishment film directed by Brit director Peter Watkins. Like Watkin's 'The War Game', Punishment Park takes a 'what if?' situation and attempts to create it as convincingly as possible. Here, the 'what if?' is what if the US government had established a prison camp in the desert where anti-US protesters were forced to tackle the desert wilderness as punishment. Similar to 'Battle Royale', the outcasts are cast out onto an unknown terrain, but this time their target is a US flag 50 miles away, and they have 3 days to reach it.
The victims are all hippies and rebels, black and white, mostly young. The film shows a 1st group who are being given trials, and a second group who are forced into the desert. Of course, the trials are unfair and biased, led by a jury of right wingers and supposed experts to back up their ideals. These include community leaders, businessmen and psychologists. All of the cast are played by non-actors, or people with little acting experience, and the whole film is told in a faux documentary manner.
The film mixes narrative sequences with interviews (invented), in which various sides get to expend their own views. So we see the hippies condemning the brutality of the state and considering their own pacific ways, the jurors who lay the blame on the youths and the police overseeing the experiment with indifference but a trigger happy state of mind. The film is not a rounded portrait of all sides-Watkins portrays the protesters as sane minded individuals who are rightfully angry at their government, while the jurors and the police appear heartless and hypocritical.
During the trials the protesters (or the filmmakers) are give a platform to air their views on America at that time- focusing on everything from the rich-poor divide to the environment to racial tensions. In fact, a lot of the issues raised in the film are still extremely pertinent today, perhaps even more so. With the spectre of Vietnam towering over the film, it is easy to compare the situation with the US invasion of Iraq.
The film is excellently shot the vivid heat waves of the desert captured in the cinematography, and the documentary shooting style feels authentic. Our lecturer pointed out some issues the film raised about documentary passivity, as the fake camera crew are confronted with some moral dilemmas. It reminded me a little of Oliver Stone's 'Natural Born Killers', where a killing spree across the desert is tracked by a camera crew.
I thought this was a very interesting film. It was passionate about the issues raised in the film, an engaging watch and still carries some weight today.
7.5/10
Punishment Park is an anti-establishment film directed by Brit director Peter Watkins. Like Watkin's 'The War Game', Punishment Park takes a 'what if?' situation and attempts to create it as convincingly as possible. Here, the 'what if?' is what if the US government had established a prison camp in the desert where anti-US protesters were forced to tackle the desert wilderness as punishment. Similar to 'Battle Royale', the outcasts are cast out onto an unknown terrain, but this time their target is a US flag 50 miles away, and they have 3 days to reach it.
The victims are all hippies and rebels, black and white, mostly young. The film shows a 1st group who are being given trials, and a second group who are forced into the desert. Of course, the trials are unfair and biased, led by a jury of right wingers and supposed experts to back up their ideals. These include community leaders, businessmen and psychologists. All of the cast are played by non-actors, or people with little acting experience, and the whole film is told in a faux documentary manner.
The film mixes narrative sequences with interviews (invented), in which various sides get to expend their own views. So we see the hippies condemning the brutality of the state and considering their own pacific ways, the jurors who lay the blame on the youths and the police overseeing the experiment with indifference but a trigger happy state of mind. The film is not a rounded portrait of all sides-Watkins portrays the protesters as sane minded individuals who are rightfully angry at their government, while the jurors and the police appear heartless and hypocritical.
During the trials the protesters (or the filmmakers) are give a platform to air their views on America at that time- focusing on everything from the rich-poor divide to the environment to racial tensions. In fact, a lot of the issues raised in the film are still extremely pertinent today, perhaps even more so. With the spectre of Vietnam towering over the film, it is easy to compare the situation with the US invasion of Iraq.
The film is excellently shot the vivid heat waves of the desert captured in the cinematography, and the documentary shooting style feels authentic. Our lecturer pointed out some issues the film raised about documentary passivity, as the fake camera crew are confronted with some moral dilemmas. It reminded me a little of Oliver Stone's 'Natural Born Killers', where a killing spree across the desert is tracked by a camera crew.
I thought this was a very interesting film. It was passionate about the issues raised in the film, an engaging watch and still carries some weight today.
7.5/10
Cries and Whispers
Along with 'Faces', I saw this at a special screening in London (which I'm not sure I was allowed at). I'm glad I did see it on the big screen-it's a great film and it deserves a wider viewing.
The basic story is that of three Swedish sisters living in their deceased parents grand house. It is a period piece set around the turn of the century. The story revolves around Agnes, terminally ill and bed ridden, and the two sisters, Karina and Maria, who along with a devoted maid are left to care for her. At the beginning of the film it is established that Agnes is mere days of dying. The trauma of family tragedy brings sibling tensions to the fore, and each sister is evoked in a flashback to an important point in their life.
For Agnes, it is her mothers mental fragility and coldness towards her. Karina is damaged by failed adulteries with the family doctor, while Maria looks back to her oppressive relationship. The illness acts as a trigger for harrowing and damaging past events to rear their ugly heads. The flashbacks correlate with the present day; we see how past trauma has informed their current state and behaviour. The sisters are resentful and cold toward each other. It is an uncomfortable, claustrophobic household.
Bergman's film is vivid and and haunting in its evocation of mood and tension of the household. The mise en scene works brilliantly to imitate the characters mental states and the raw emotion running through the building. The women glide around in long, ghostly white and funereal, foreboding black gowns. The walls are painted blood red and contrasting pure white- love and anger. The art designer has done well to compose a scene that is clearly identifiable of the time period yet simple and sparse enough to remain timeless.
I found the atmosphere of the film highly strange. It was a constant build up of tension, hints of the supernatural and even horror. Bergman succeeds in melding the family tensions with the foreboding atmosphere. It could work as a great mood piece, but the characters are extremely well drawn out and engaging. There are a few moments of real terror, but not in the conventional sense. These moments are borne out of inner turmoil and result in self mutilation, rejection and bewilderment.
Quite possibly the best Ingmar Bergman I have seen so far.
9/10
The basic story is that of three Swedish sisters living in their deceased parents grand house. It is a period piece set around the turn of the century. The story revolves around Agnes, terminally ill and bed ridden, and the two sisters, Karina and Maria, who along with a devoted maid are left to care for her. At the beginning of the film it is established that Agnes is mere days of dying. The trauma of family tragedy brings sibling tensions to the fore, and each sister is evoked in a flashback to an important point in their life.
For Agnes, it is her mothers mental fragility and coldness towards her. Karina is damaged by failed adulteries with the family doctor, while Maria looks back to her oppressive relationship. The illness acts as a trigger for harrowing and damaging past events to rear their ugly heads. The flashbacks correlate with the present day; we see how past trauma has informed their current state and behaviour. The sisters are resentful and cold toward each other. It is an uncomfortable, claustrophobic household.
Bergman's film is vivid and and haunting in its evocation of mood and tension of the household. The mise en scene works brilliantly to imitate the characters mental states and the raw emotion running through the building. The women glide around in long, ghostly white and funereal, foreboding black gowns. The walls are painted blood red and contrasting pure white- love and anger. The art designer has done well to compose a scene that is clearly identifiable of the time period yet simple and sparse enough to remain timeless.
I found the atmosphere of the film highly strange. It was a constant build up of tension, hints of the supernatural and even horror. Bergman succeeds in melding the family tensions with the foreboding atmosphere. It could work as a great mood piece, but the characters are extremely well drawn out and engaging. There are a few moments of real terror, but not in the conventional sense. These moments are borne out of inner turmoil and result in self mutilation, rejection and bewilderment.
Quite possibly the best Ingmar Bergman I have seen so far.
9/10
Faces
I think this one of Nick Cassavetes earlier films. It was released in 1968.
The film concerns the exploits of a wealthy American couple. John Marley plays an advertising guy, while his wife (Lynn Carlin) stays at home. The film takes the form of a series of episodes in which the two main characters diverge down different roads. Marley's character is seen partying with friends and visiting a prostitute (Gena Rowlands, Cassavetes wife), an escape from his meaningless life. The advertising business is traditionally seen as an evil profession in film, and it seems inevitable that Marley is unsatisfied by his work. He goes home to his wife, a burgeoning alcoholic, and tells her he wants a divorce. The wife is similarly disillusioned and the film shows that both characters are set on a path of self destruction. American Beauty would be a valid contemporary companion piece; a mid-crisis engulfing a married couple and the failure of the American dream. It's a well worn theme but Cassavetes film is much more potent than others.
I suppose the most interesting thing about the film is the way it is set out and the construction of the scenes. There are only about 5 or 6 locations in the whole film. The film is a collection of extended scenes featuring long takes. At the prostitute's home for example, Marley and his friend/business partner are joking and playing around with Rowland's character, attempting skits and falling over. The action seems refreshingly real; Cassavetes style seems to be brief the actors on the scenes and then let them improvise. Thus long takes, sometimes inaudible dialogue but a few special moments and some great interaction between the actors. The film would fall spectacularly flat if it wasn't for the flawless performances on show. Marley is a silver fox, desperate and disillusioned, trying to inject some fun into his existence but falling upon menial vices. Rowlands is very good as the 'voluptuous' seductress, balancing the line between aloof and vunerable. But for me the standout performance is Carlin as the suffering wife. Much of her performance is based on subtle facial nuances and eye contact. Like Marley, she engages feebly with sex and drugs to numb the pain, but I felt the most sympathy for her plight, due to Carlins performance.
The film is shot in black and white and with an intrusive hand held camera bringing the audience closer to the action and capturing the improvisational tone. Very humane, very engaging and very well shot.
8/10
The film concerns the exploits of a wealthy American couple. John Marley plays an advertising guy, while his wife (Lynn Carlin) stays at home. The film takes the form of a series of episodes in which the two main characters diverge down different roads. Marley's character is seen partying with friends and visiting a prostitute (Gena Rowlands, Cassavetes wife), an escape from his meaningless life. The advertising business is traditionally seen as an evil profession in film, and it seems inevitable that Marley is unsatisfied by his work. He goes home to his wife, a burgeoning alcoholic, and tells her he wants a divorce. The wife is similarly disillusioned and the film shows that both characters are set on a path of self destruction. American Beauty would be a valid contemporary companion piece; a mid-crisis engulfing a married couple and the failure of the American dream. It's a well worn theme but Cassavetes film is much more potent than others.
I suppose the most interesting thing about the film is the way it is set out and the construction of the scenes. There are only about 5 or 6 locations in the whole film. The film is a collection of extended scenes featuring long takes. At the prostitute's home for example, Marley and his friend/business partner are joking and playing around with Rowland's character, attempting skits and falling over. The action seems refreshingly real; Cassavetes style seems to be brief the actors on the scenes and then let them improvise. Thus long takes, sometimes inaudible dialogue but a few special moments and some great interaction between the actors. The film would fall spectacularly flat if it wasn't for the flawless performances on show. Marley is a silver fox, desperate and disillusioned, trying to inject some fun into his existence but falling upon menial vices. Rowlands is very good as the 'voluptuous' seductress, balancing the line between aloof and vunerable. But for me the standout performance is Carlin as the suffering wife. Much of her performance is based on subtle facial nuances and eye contact. Like Marley, she engages feebly with sex and drugs to numb the pain, but I felt the most sympathy for her plight, due to Carlins performance.
The film is shot in black and white and with an intrusive hand held camera bringing the audience closer to the action and capturing the improvisational tone. Very humane, very engaging and very well shot.
8/10
Funeral Parade of Roses
Now, I haven't seen many Japanese films about transvestites from the 60's but I think this would definitely get into my top 5. Probably.
I picked this up out of curiosity, and the allure of a mixture of Japanese culture and the strange avant garde format. I was pretty much satisfied in both ways. The director was one Toshio Matsumoto, who I may never hear of again, but maybe not. The two leads were real life transvestites, both apparently appearing in some Kurosawa pictures around the same period. The basic story is that the two transvestites are both vying for the attentions of the owner of the club they work at, a gay gangster who peddles drugs on the sly. One of them, Eddie, and the owner make plans to get rid of Leda, the other. Meanwhile, the police are cracking down on the underworld clubs that the trio are involved in.
Unusually, the film mixes in real interviews with the cast into the fiction narrative. Eddie and Leda are both questioned frankly about their sexuality and lifestyle. A large part of the film seems to focus on sexuality and tolerance. I can't remember seeing many films about the gay/transvestite lifestyle in modern times, let alone in 60's Tokyo. There also seems to be sections where we witness a film crew filming some scenes, and watching them back in postmodern twist. There's a lot of overlapping layers to the film where fiction merges with reality.
The other striking aspect of the film is it's experimental format. On the description of the film, it states that the film was made at a time when anything was possible in cinema. This is the ethos of for the making of this film. It utilises many avant garde filmmaking techniques. Even Kubrick was impressed enough by the film that he took some tricks from the film. In one scene, the gangster is interrupted by a police raid. Hurriedly he tries to pack up and leave his office, but it is filmed in fast motion with the zippy music overlayed, just like in 'A Clockwork Orange'. It is also quite possible that Kubrick was influenced by the urban gang fights- a catfight ensues in the city centre.
While I admired the ethos of the film and enjoyed the experimental nature of the format, I didn't really engage with the characters or story that much. The story was simple and easy to follow, and the characters had elements of empathy, but it wasn't particularly satisfying drama-wise. It works best as a visually striking, experimental piece of work.
6.5/10
I picked this up out of curiosity, and the allure of a mixture of Japanese culture and the strange avant garde format. I was pretty much satisfied in both ways. The director was one Toshio Matsumoto, who I may never hear of again, but maybe not. The two leads were real life transvestites, both apparently appearing in some Kurosawa pictures around the same period. The basic story is that the two transvestites are both vying for the attentions of the owner of the club they work at, a gay gangster who peddles drugs on the sly. One of them, Eddie, and the owner make plans to get rid of Leda, the other. Meanwhile, the police are cracking down on the underworld clubs that the trio are involved in.
Unusually, the film mixes in real interviews with the cast into the fiction narrative. Eddie and Leda are both questioned frankly about their sexuality and lifestyle. A large part of the film seems to focus on sexuality and tolerance. I can't remember seeing many films about the gay/transvestite lifestyle in modern times, let alone in 60's Tokyo. There also seems to be sections where we witness a film crew filming some scenes, and watching them back in postmodern twist. There's a lot of overlapping layers to the film where fiction merges with reality.
The other striking aspect of the film is it's experimental format. On the description of the film, it states that the film was made at a time when anything was possible in cinema. This is the ethos of for the making of this film. It utilises many avant garde filmmaking techniques. Even Kubrick was impressed enough by the film that he took some tricks from the film. In one scene, the gangster is interrupted by a police raid. Hurriedly he tries to pack up and leave his office, but it is filmed in fast motion with the zippy music overlayed, just like in 'A Clockwork Orange'. It is also quite possible that Kubrick was influenced by the urban gang fights- a catfight ensues in the city centre.
While I admired the ethos of the film and enjoyed the experimental nature of the format, I didn't really engage with the characters or story that much. The story was simple and easy to follow, and the characters had elements of empathy, but it wasn't particularly satisfying drama-wise. It works best as a visually striking, experimental piece of work.
6.5/10
The Son's Room
This was something I was asked to watch for my screenwriting workshops. I'm not that informed about Nanni Moretti, although I know a little. He's one of Italy's biggest exports and before this film was famed for his comedies. Here he acts, writes and directs in a drama about a grieving Italian family.
Moretti plays the father of the family, a placid shrink who takes life at a leisurely pace. He appears to live a relatively contented life with his pretty wife and their two teenage children. Towards the beginning of the film his son is accused of stealing something from school and the father is called in to deal with the situation. The father is rational and calm about the situation, quietly trying to dissect the truth behind the lies. Perhaps this is a merging of his work as a shrink with his personal life. Although there are many small events like this in the film which seem unimportant, they actually help us gain insight into the character and the way they deal with situations.
Moretti's character gears his children (and their reluctant mother) towards sport. The girl plays netball for her local team, the boy plays tennis and the father goes running regularly. Again, could this be the idea of the shrink filtering through? In one of his meetings with a bored, hyperactive patient he recommends that she takes up a sport to fill her time. He consoles her by saying he too is boring. The suggestion is that he perhaps channels his emotions into stimulants such as his sport and his work.
The patients provide a juxtaposition against his home life. Here in his office he tends to sex addicts, suicidals and attention seekers, all looking for some relief. His family in contrast seem well adjusted and fully functional. Often the scenes are cut short to a few exchanged words; the patient will talk of their problems and maybe criticise the shrink, then the shrink will offer a reason or solution. There is little resolution to the characters problems, which seems a more realistic portrait of psychiatry
The cosiness of the film is shattered when the son is killed in a diving accident. Moretti is guilt ridden because he feels he could have prevented the death. The relationship between the father and mother disintegrates, and the small cracks at the start of the film emerge as canyons. A comparison could be made with the 2001 American drama 'In the bedroom'. They both deal with the aftermath of a son's death. I think 'The Son's Room' is a better film, because it is more emotionally engaging and the central character is more interesting. Both films though, are somewhat stylized in their depiction of family grievances. They tell the story, but only offer a small part of the process.
What I also found interesting about Moretti's film was the overall look of the film. There was little artistic licence in the lighting of the film-it seemed to me more TV soap than film. The colour pallette is bright and clean, and the mise-en-scene cosily sketched out. It's not really a detraction necessarily, but it did catch my eye.
7/10
Moretti plays the father of the family, a placid shrink who takes life at a leisurely pace. He appears to live a relatively contented life with his pretty wife and their two teenage children. Towards the beginning of the film his son is accused of stealing something from school and the father is called in to deal with the situation. The father is rational and calm about the situation, quietly trying to dissect the truth behind the lies. Perhaps this is a merging of his work as a shrink with his personal life. Although there are many small events like this in the film which seem unimportant, they actually help us gain insight into the character and the way they deal with situations.
Moretti's character gears his children (and their reluctant mother) towards sport. The girl plays netball for her local team, the boy plays tennis and the father goes running regularly. Again, could this be the idea of the shrink filtering through? In one of his meetings with a bored, hyperactive patient he recommends that she takes up a sport to fill her time. He consoles her by saying he too is boring. The suggestion is that he perhaps channels his emotions into stimulants such as his sport and his work.
The patients provide a juxtaposition against his home life. Here in his office he tends to sex addicts, suicidals and attention seekers, all looking for some relief. His family in contrast seem well adjusted and fully functional. Often the scenes are cut short to a few exchanged words; the patient will talk of their problems and maybe criticise the shrink, then the shrink will offer a reason or solution. There is little resolution to the characters problems, which seems a more realistic portrait of psychiatry
The cosiness of the film is shattered when the son is killed in a diving accident. Moretti is guilt ridden because he feels he could have prevented the death. The relationship between the father and mother disintegrates, and the small cracks at the start of the film emerge as canyons. A comparison could be made with the 2001 American drama 'In the bedroom'. They both deal with the aftermath of a son's death. I think 'The Son's Room' is a better film, because it is more emotionally engaging and the central character is more interesting. Both films though, are somewhat stylized in their depiction of family grievances. They tell the story, but only offer a small part of the process.
What I also found interesting about Moretti's film was the overall look of the film. There was little artistic licence in the lighting of the film-it seemed to me more TV soap than film. The colour pallette is bright and clean, and the mise-en-scene cosily sketched out. It's not really a detraction necessarily, but it did catch my eye.
7/10
In Bruges
Looking back to last year, In Bruges cropped up heavily in polls of the years best. It was Martin McDonagh's debut film after a successful career as playwright/director, and he got off to a good start.
The stars are Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, both revered Irish actors who have broken into Hollywood, in their own way. The two play a pair of hitman sent off to the Belgian city of Bruges, in waiting of instructions from their mysterious paymaster. The audience is not told of why they are here, nor what is expected of them. I recently re-watched The Third Man, Carol Reed's classic noir film. Both films are set in beautiful but flawed European cities and hinge on the enigma of an unknown third party. of course, In Bruges cannot conceivably match the heady heights of that film, but it's impressive enough not to pale against it.
It is not a typical buddy movie, nor could be classed simply as a thriller, though it has claims on both genres. The relationship and banter between the two hitmen is sparky and witty, like Pulp Fiction but with real characters instead of cartoons. Like Pulp Fiction, In Bruges mixes humour with unflinching violence and gratuitous profanity. But McDonagh actually carves out some humanity in these characters, and later on in the film we see the characters having to take on some serious moral issues.
There is also a bit of conflict between the finesse of the city, it's culture and the screenplays distinctly un-PC take on the modern world. Farrell's character frequently refers to Bruges as a "shithole" (something the city officials didn't take to kindly to!), but like Gleeson's character we cannot help but marvel at the pebbled streets, the arched bridges and grand cathedrals sensitively captured in lingering montages. The city is described as a 'fairytale world'- the sky is bleached out in otherworldly whiteness giving it an ethereal feel.
So, the film features a great, quotable script and an exciting mix of violence and humour, but there's also a few emotional bombshells thrown into the mix as well. The finale, though I'll try not to give any spoilers away, is hard hitting but touching. My only qualm with the ending is that I think a gradual realisation or revelation is much more rewarding than a split second jolt, which the finale erred on the side of. But this is only a small niggle in a fine, unpredictable British film.
8/10
The stars are Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, both revered Irish actors who have broken into Hollywood, in their own way. The two play a pair of hitman sent off to the Belgian city of Bruges, in waiting of instructions from their mysterious paymaster. The audience is not told of why they are here, nor what is expected of them. I recently re-watched The Third Man, Carol Reed's classic noir film. Both films are set in beautiful but flawed European cities and hinge on the enigma of an unknown third party. of course, In Bruges cannot conceivably match the heady heights of that film, but it's impressive enough not to pale against it.
It is not a typical buddy movie, nor could be classed simply as a thriller, though it has claims on both genres. The relationship and banter between the two hitmen is sparky and witty, like Pulp Fiction but with real characters instead of cartoons. Like Pulp Fiction, In Bruges mixes humour with unflinching violence and gratuitous profanity. But McDonagh actually carves out some humanity in these characters, and later on in the film we see the characters having to take on some serious moral issues.
There is also a bit of conflict between the finesse of the city, it's culture and the screenplays distinctly un-PC take on the modern world. Farrell's character frequently refers to Bruges as a "shithole" (something the city officials didn't take to kindly to!), but like Gleeson's character we cannot help but marvel at the pebbled streets, the arched bridges and grand cathedrals sensitively captured in lingering montages. The city is described as a 'fairytale world'- the sky is bleached out in otherworldly whiteness giving it an ethereal feel.
So, the film features a great, quotable script and an exciting mix of violence and humour, but there's also a few emotional bombshells thrown into the mix as well. The finale, though I'll try not to give any spoilers away, is hard hitting but touching. My only qualm with the ending is that I think a gradual realisation or revelation is much more rewarding than a split second jolt, which the finale erred on the side of. But this is only a small niggle in a fine, unpredictable British film.
8/10
Beau Travail
Beau Travail is Claire Denis's film about a troop of Legionnaires training in Djibouti. The film is apparently a retelling of Herman Melville's 'Billy Rudd'.
Denis Lavant stars as officer Galoup, who narrates his own downfall through a series of flashbacks. Michel Subor plays the watchful commander, Galoup's boss, while Gregoire Colin plays Sentain, the young Legionnaire who acts as the trigger for Galoup's downfall.
At the beginning Galoup seems in control of his 'flock' and protective of them. Through a series of scenes of Galoup doing his daily chores, his intensive cleaning of his uniform and ironing, we see that he is indebted to the Legionnaire lifestyle. It is this life which gives him purpose and structure in an existence which would otherwise be lacking.
When a young charge is introduced into his troop, Sentain, he feels oddly resentful towards him. Sentain is an enigmatic, sensitive young man who Galoup feels doesn't belong to the army. Sentain is quietly influential among the troops, and there is simmering tension when word gets out that Galoup is out to get him. However, the situation escalates when Sentain saves a fellow soldier in a helicopter crash, becoming a hero amongst the troops, and more gratingly for Galoup, gaining the respect of the commander. At this point Galoup waits eagerly for the moment to take Sentain apart.
But this plot description only tells half the film. To read this description, you might think this was simply a mere drama. Beau Travail has a distinctly odd atmosphere. The bright, vivid images of the Djibouti landscapes, the sandy deserts and the pools of water, are filmed in lingering takes taking on an elegiac, meditative quality. We are made to examine the images and the characters faces for clues, as Denis gives little away in the form of script. When we are told characters thoughts or feelings through dialogue, it is often strangely frank.
The performances from the three leads are all quite magnetic and intriguing. Thinking back to them, I realise that they all share distinctive faces; Lavant dinosaur and rubbled, Subor rugged and shrewd eyes, and Colin oval and angelic. When we watch them, we are looking for insights into their mindsets.
One of the most memorable aspects of this film are the striking scenes of the nightclub placed throughout the film. In these scenes, we see various soldiers from the troop dancing with swaying Djibouti girls, all facing disconcertingly towards the camera, like some kind of performance. In the first scene, we see the soldiers dancing happily with the the girls. By the final scene though, we see Galoup alone in the nightclub. In an exuberant dance, he exposes his unsettled and unsatisfied mind, his lonesome existence. It is extremely resonant.
8/10
Denis Lavant stars as officer Galoup, who narrates his own downfall through a series of flashbacks. Michel Subor plays the watchful commander, Galoup's boss, while Gregoire Colin plays Sentain, the young Legionnaire who acts as the trigger for Galoup's downfall.
At the beginning Galoup seems in control of his 'flock' and protective of them. Through a series of scenes of Galoup doing his daily chores, his intensive cleaning of his uniform and ironing, we see that he is indebted to the Legionnaire lifestyle. It is this life which gives him purpose and structure in an existence which would otherwise be lacking.
When a young charge is introduced into his troop, Sentain, he feels oddly resentful towards him. Sentain is an enigmatic, sensitive young man who Galoup feels doesn't belong to the army. Sentain is quietly influential among the troops, and there is simmering tension when word gets out that Galoup is out to get him. However, the situation escalates when Sentain saves a fellow soldier in a helicopter crash, becoming a hero amongst the troops, and more gratingly for Galoup, gaining the respect of the commander. At this point Galoup waits eagerly for the moment to take Sentain apart.
But this plot description only tells half the film. To read this description, you might think this was simply a mere drama. Beau Travail has a distinctly odd atmosphere. The bright, vivid images of the Djibouti landscapes, the sandy deserts and the pools of water, are filmed in lingering takes taking on an elegiac, meditative quality. We are made to examine the images and the characters faces for clues, as Denis gives little away in the form of script. When we are told characters thoughts or feelings through dialogue, it is often strangely frank.
The performances from the three leads are all quite magnetic and intriguing. Thinking back to them, I realise that they all share distinctive faces; Lavant dinosaur and rubbled, Subor rugged and shrewd eyes, and Colin oval and angelic. When we watch them, we are looking for insights into their mindsets.
One of the most memorable aspects of this film are the striking scenes of the nightclub placed throughout the film. In these scenes, we see various soldiers from the troop dancing with swaying Djibouti girls, all facing disconcertingly towards the camera, like some kind of performance. In the first scene, we see the soldiers dancing happily with the the girls. By the final scene though, we see Galoup alone in the nightclub. In an exuberant dance, he exposes his unsettled and unsatisfied mind, his lonesome existence. It is extremely resonant.
8/10
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