JULY FILMS
District 9 – Neil
Blomkamp – An alien spacecraft looms over Johannesburg, below which a
ghettoized community of aliens are kept fenced in and segregated from humanity.
The film combines mockumentary aesthetics with interviews and news coverage,
gradually shedding such stylistic tropes for more traditionally cinematic
action. Throughout Blomkamp keeps the film’s pace at an exciting level of
momentum, which, when combined with entertaining effects, flashes of dark
humour and politically probing intelligence makes for a very satisfying (and
above all) fun watch. The political nature of the film, through which not only
South Africa’s social fragmentation but also, more generally, humanitarian
crisis without need for specification – in the crossfire of militant force and
political corruption – becomes evocative of a Romero-esque commentary. It is
probably reductive to wed District 9
to the political narratives of the (gleefully undead, yet politically alive)
Zombie genre, as its South African context, paired with analogous alien
injustice is commendably imaginative…and yet, the combination of action, black
humour and occasional body horror (the protagonist’s alien metamorphosis)
cannot help but resonate with Romero’s films…which is, by no means, a bad
thing! Very enjoyable! 8/10
Them! – Gordon
Douglas – A 1954 film in which atomic tests in the dessert lead to the
cartoon mutation of ants into…GIANT ANTS. Naturally, on reading the breathless
tagline: ‘A HORROR OF CRAWL-AND CRUSH GIANTS CLAWING OUT OF THE EARTH FROM
MILE-DEEP CATACOMBS!’, I was anticipating a gloriously clumsy orgy of stop
motion mandibles and towering silliness; a lost gem of stop-motion, killer bug
absurdity…but alas, Them! is better
enjoyed as a testament to jovial 50’s misogyny, inspiringly uncreative dialogue
and the unintentional comic gold of delusional profundity. Unfortunately the
giant ants seemed closer to mutant furry mascots, kept strategically in the
side of shots to avoid having to move the whole (obviously inert) ant body,
apparently impossible without the aid of effects or animation. Thus the film
becomes sporadically hilarious, but, more primarily, an exercise in
disappointment and boredom. By the time a bumbling professor cliché and his
attractive daughter enter the film, no amount of harnessed Cold War tension,
wobbling mutant ant antennae, or ironic appreciation of black and white sexist
banter could save the film from being unfortunately yawn inducing. The DVD
cover, complete with its lurid ‘B-Movie Poster’ presentation of apocalyptic
ants, is probably the best thing about the film. 3/10
Blazing Saddles – Mel Brooks – Irreverent,
odd, energetically hilarious, unapologetically slapstick and occasionally
genius: Mel Brooks’ imaginative Western parody is beautifully bizarre buffet of
knowingly nutty comic ambition. The unrelenting range of jokes and visual gags
often lends the film a feeling of excitable sketches, strung together with a
slapdash enthusiasm. It is the charisma and chemistry shared by Cleavon Little
and Gene Wilder that ultimately raises the film beyond its, occasionally
repetitive and chaotic elements (and an over reliance upon racial comedy, which
eventually serves to age the film), toward its long revered comedy status. 7.5/10
Bug – William
Friedkin – Based on Tracy Letts’ play (screenplay written by Letts), Bug unfolds in the dank claustrophobia
of a single motel room. A wandering, decidedly neurotic (even before the
madness begins to spiral) man named ‘Peter Evans’ (played by Michael Shannon)
is introduced to the lonely figure of
Agnes White (played by Ashley Judd). Thankful of his company, Agnes
interprets Peter’s unhinged quirks through the vulnerable paranoia of her own
past and it soon becomes clear that they are both encouraging a mutual collapse
of sanity. Finding security in an unstable affinity for each other, mental
fragility begins to entangle and unravel, becoming more and more dangerously
divorced from reality.
Peter’s delusional belief that the
government has planted ‘aphids’ in his skin as part of a sinister conspiracy
begins to dominate the oppressive cell of their shared motel room. Convinced he
has escaped the amorality of scientific experimentation he believes himself,
and the room, to be infested…leading to growing measures of masochistic
precaution. Both central performances by Ashley Judd and Michael Shannon are,
to put it lightly, committed. Their insular relationship leads to a
frighteningly intense embrace of conspiracy and paranoid nightmares- acted with
unnerving believability. From the quick cut sequence of praying mantis/insect
imagery after they have sex (connoting violent notions of the mantis’
copulating decapitation ritual, and a fear of contamination through penetrative
entrance) to the feverish monologues of their climactic and elaborate madness
(painfully uttered under the delusion of epiphany) – the film’s most arresting
power resides in two phenomenally convincing – and unsettling - portrayals of collapsing
sanity. The parallel nightmare that they construct, so intricately together,
makes for a compellingly immersive experience. A disturbing drama masterfully
controlled through Friedkin’s wise adherence to the cracked dialogue’s power.
8/10
Kingdom of Heaven – Ridley Scott
– After watching Kingdom of Heaven
I discovered that there was a massively extended director’s cut-which, at
3hours and more, apparently better fits the original directorial objective of
‘historical epic’, as opposed to the heavily edited ‘action adventure’ that the
studio favoured. A telling of the Crusades, with Orlando Bloom as a humble
blacksmith turned military leader, ingenious tactician and all round admirable
pillar of religious tolerance…unsurprisingly takes liberty with the likely
brutality of history - in which figures
of ‘religious tolerance’ and advocates of diversity where probably pretty dam
rare-and even more rare, in positions of influential power. Peter Bradshaw
makes a compelling argument for the film’s questionable political motives,
referencing George Bush’s characteristically
short sighted rhetoric: in which he defined America’s morally dubious war in
Iraq as a ‘crusade’. Thus, the film should rightfully be met with a wary
skepticism – considering its noble portrayal of crusader (although the film
does attempt to emphasize the independence of his views), which lends a
historical movement of evangelical, bloodthirsty slaughter a misleading aura of
progressive globalized ethics. In a sense, the aim to depict a hero of such
commendable tolerance could be applauded for its basic and positive humanism.
However, in the severely edited theatre release/general version…it feels a bit
like a thinly veiled convenient appropriation of history.
Although Kingdom of Heaven does manage the epic scale of an arching
narrative twinned with a historical backdrop relatively well, it is condemned
to fall short due to the casting of Orlando Bloom in the film’s central role.
This is not (I promise…for now) an unnecessary critical assassination of
Orlando Bloom, as many unkind folk tend to joyously indulge in rending him limb
from thespian limb, due to an unfortunate fidelity to the ‘Keanu Reeves School
of Acting’. I did think he made a dam
fine Legolas, carried off the tights and had sufficiently muted facial
expressions to suggest Elf-like ethereal wisdom with prancing aplomb. However,
to convey a weathered man of battle, a leader of men and the nascent emotional
anguish of a troubled past…he is pretty badly miscast. After Liam Neeson,
reveals he is Bloom’s father (beckoning him to join the crusades) we are given
a glimpse of an actor with a closer semblance of rugged emotion and believable
strength. Unfortunately Neeson is lost pretty early on, leaving Bloom to
shoulder the burden of Crusade conviction-and the film’s needed emotional
force-very much alone.
It cannot be denied, with dark locks of heroic
hair, vulnerable brown eyes and the calculated unkempt look of perennial
stubble…Mr. Bloom is a good looking guy…but not a persuasive crusading warrior.
For the role to work, it would be desirable for his expressions to convey
something beyond mild discontent, eyes that could suggest ineffable depth and
not just the good looks better reserved for after-shave adverts. Striding
through the epic carnage of Lord of the
Rings style battle scenes, he seems consistently removed from the
experience-as if gliding in his own air-conditioned catwalk of moody male
importance. The scale of the film, and its ambitious array of moralistic themes
require acting grit that transcends the pout of Pirates of the Caribbean. Apologies, it seems I have spiraled into
the aforementioned critical assassination of the formerly elfish Bloom…He is
not that bad, just wrongly cast.
Suffering from this casting error and the tension between Scott’s ‘historical
epic’ ambitions and the pressures for commercial ‘action adventure’ packaging,
the film (in the form/ I watched) fails to deliver the full potential of the
vast and complex subject matter. 6.5/10
Manhattan – Woody Allen
– Filmed in black and white and set to the musical palette of Gershwin, Manhattan retreads the neurotic
intellect and troubled love of Annie
Hall. Filmed two years later than Annie
Hall (Manhattan was released in
1979) a more developed drama takes precedence over quick-fire wit. The central
character dates a girl many years his junior (a college frequenting, homework
writing 17year old by the name of ‘Tracey’, played brilliantly by Mariel
Hemingway – to Woody Allen’s – ‘Isaac’- balding 42), realizing the relationship
to be simply a fling he gets involved with a highly strung academic (Diane
Keaton), with whom his best friend previously had an affair with; and so ensues
an erratic love triangle, played out against the monochrome backdrop of a
lovingly shot New York. It is hard to decide whether the drama of Isaac’s
relationship with the younger girl is queasy Woody Allen wish fulfillment, or a
more nuanced exploration of the tragic immaturity of a middle aged bachelor…or
perhaps both. Either way the film feels less cohesively comical, the humour
instead cutting through a leading narrative – as opposed to the quotable glee
of Annie Hall in which it seemed
witty precocity led the way – the love story often reduced to a vessel for
memorable comedic observations.
There is one scene in Manhattan that I found particularly
ambivalent in tone, or at least I found myself divided on how to receive its
success. Having realized he is leading the 17 year old astray (the awkward and
growing nature of her adolescent love threatens to puncture his libidinous, but
ultimately superficial, fantasy) and having discovered the older Mary (Diane
Keaton), he breaks up with her while sat at a bar. The timing of his break up
is compounded by her presenting him with a sweet gift (a harmonica…to encourage
him to pursue the musical aspirations he had previously mentioned in a warbling
array of deprecating digressions…probably), thus she becomes even more
vulnerable and compassionate in the face of his dismissal. The camera closely
crops her crying face, the shot’s portrait simplicity interrupted by the
fumbling hands of Isaac that fuss and stumble in an embarrassing attempt to
comfort her. Somehow, with the aid of theatrical black and white rendering
(painterly shadows and angelic white purity), this shot seemed to typify the
uneasy chemistry of their relationship. We watch the older fumbling hands of
Isaac, trying to find some semblance of authentic emotion, as Tracey is left
expounding her earnest devotion. As
Isaac continues to witter over the scene, the viewer (or at least me!) is left
unsure of whether to read the scene through the bumblingly nervous humour of
Woody Allen, or the tragic reality of their relationship. It is not entirely
clear whether we are witnessing a narrative of jovial misogyny and a beta male
incarnation of charmingly silly chauvinism…or whether in fact Manhattan embodies a more nuanced drama:
providing a critique of the inherently adolescent male masquerading as an
adult. 7/10
Biutiful – Alejendro
Gonzalez Inarritu – Javier Bardem is without question a strong and
commanding screen presence. Whether sporting a psychopathic bowl cut in his
menacing role for No Country for Old Men,
or perfecting the European bohemiam/ roguish Casanova appeal in Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Bardem has an
innate and magnetic ability to convince. And then there is that face: strong
lines of weathered experience with just a dash of ‘haggard hardship,’ ensuring
that whatever he does is lent a deep and natural authenticity. So, yep, I am
unreservedly a Javier Bardem advocate! Biutiful
places Bardem unrelentingly at the centre of the film, he appears in the vast
majority of shots. It is the story of one father’s struggle, through poverty,
bad luck, illness and marital break up to support his children and endure the
hard hand life has dealt. It is, without a doubt, unremittingly bleak. Tragedy
upon tragedy mounts until the viewer is left drooping with the same world-weary
burden that the film depicts, I found myself hoping (in vain) for just a
glimpse of light relief or distracting frivolity! The film is framed (in its
opening and ending) with two beautifully crafted and oneiric scenes-both
saddled with the hefty pondering of mortality. Javier Bardem’s performance is
astounding; it keeps the film from becoming too tiresome in its misery through
his sheer natural charisma, a gift which keeps this downbeat spiral a
compelling and arresting experience. It would not be a film to recommend
lightly due to its relentlessly miserable narrative, but, on top of Bardem’s
brilliance, it cannot be denied that Inarritu has produced a brilliantly shot
and moving cinematic vision. Barcelona is uniquely evoked, a claustrophobic and
decaying urban sprawl; the pervasive gloom is sporadically punctuated with
poetic shots (ants climbing, Moths shuffling on a ceiling, billowing smoke, sun
spilling a golden light through dry grass) that arrive like precious epiphanies
or cryptic omens; the soundtrack draws from an appropriately downbeat
electronic and ambient soundscape; the narrative has delicately woven into
scenes in which we observe the supernatural, the nightmarish and the visionary,
but never in sensationalism or graphic drama. It is a memorable, beautifully
shot and poetic film, but undeniably, and at times overbearingly, bleak. 8/10
The Dark Knight – Christopher
Nolan – I was Inspired to finally get round to watching this through the release
of The Dark Knight Rises. I had
wanted to see it for, well, a long time…but my prevailing adversity to
‘superhero’ films only encouraged, an already natural, apathy. I just find it
hard to separate the immaculate torso rippling, muscle flexing, cape swishing,
gun firing, world saving, tight tight, tight costume sporting, Neanderthal
jawline possessing, macho action worshipping, DC/Marvel originating pantomimes
from, well, from a pretty adolescent wish fulfillment. The socially awkward
outsider who dreams of proving himself, the physically insecure who imagines a 300 Spartan six pack and the keen gym
freak who wishes it was more acceptable to revel in tight fitting flamboyant
homoeroticism-all of this finds vicarious and masturbatory enactment in the
standard fare of superheroes. It’s not a matter of self congratulating elitism,
or snidely condemning comics as ‘just for kids’ – it’s just that, in the grand
scheme of forms of entertainment, Spiderman/Watchmen/Incredible Hulk/The
Avengers/ X-Men and other lycra-clad saviours of the universe are..well, on the
whole, pretty silly. Silly aint always bad though, I spend an unnerving amount
of my waking (and dreaming) life embracing the virtues of ‘silly’. Nowt much
more fun than impersonating an angry duck, imitating a zombie, dancing nude,
eating basically inedible substances as an impulsive recreational habit,
doodling bulbous eyed rodents on the back of envelopes, wearing trousers intentionally
high, insisting you possess a clairvoyant capacity when armed with a pot of
raspberry yoghurt, singing loudly when alone, conversing with inanimate
objects, learning to safely ingest inanimate objects, painting various areas of
the anatomy with glue, declaring penis synonyms with gleeful volume and
frequency…and, added to that list…taking the superhero genre too seriously.
BUT, Mr. Nolan has done something
wonderful, impressive and (to all the mega mega superhero fans out there…I
realize anyone reading this who likes Batman alone ‘he is not a superhero-he
has no powers! Etc’ may take massive offence to my misinformed inanity…please
don’t…it’s not worth it…so, yeh, for all those BIG fans) massively gratifying:
finally a series of films that evokes the very best and most serious aspects of
the genre. Mark Kermode, and I’m sure many others, have rightfully praised
Nolan’s ability to direct ‘intelligent’ blockbusters. His are inspired action
films that don’t insist on dizzyingly quick edits, 90minutes of LOUD
explosions, bad dialogue or formulaic plotlines. So, having been ridiculously
late in seeing The Dark Knight and
Heath Ledger’s, now infamous, portrayal of the joker, I was not disappointed.
From the opening sequence, a clown masked bank robbery and the Joker’s first
appearance (complete with a darkly humourous Nietzschean soundbite: ‘What
doesn’t kill you – only makes you stranger’ , or summat like that) to the
tension of the climactic ‘boat scenario’, I found the entire film a very
entertaining watch. It has been said a thousand times before, but not without
reason, that Heath Ledger’s performance really does add something/everything to
the film’s genius. He is simply amazing. To achieve a performance that is
genuinely disturbing and unnervingly creepy, while also maintaining show
stealing charisma, makes for an unforgettable and (as countless
posters/t-shirts/sprawling memorabilia will testify) memorable character act.
Apparently much of the Joker’s idiosyncrasies and vocal eccentricity was based on
Tom Waits (I’m pretty sure I heard this somewhere…reliably sourced as
always..). The croaking raconteur is given a slightly effeminate and
frighteningly unhinged make-over, but watching Ledger’s performance with this
in mind really does highlight the Waitsian echo…a ‘What’s he building in
there…Wanna know how I got these scars?’ hybrid. Also similar to the
interviews that Waits has given over the
years, the Joker indulges in an articulate and playful (but oh so scary) self
mythologizing: continually inventing and reinventing the origin of his scarred
clown smile. On top of Nolan’s brilliant
direction and Heath Ledger’s unbelievable performance, the portrayal of ‘Two-Face’ is also effectively
handled. At the end of the film, as with Inception,
one is left feeling satisfied not simply in the blockbuster essential of action
and spectacle, but in the imagination of memorable characters, narrative
sophistication and acting quality. 8/10
The Dark Knight Rises – Christopher Nolan - Considering the anticipation and pressure
involved with following up the box office and critical success of The Dark Knight, it is all the more
impressive when, on leaving the cinema, I was buzzing with ebullient praise and
post-Bat excitement. I was also vocally smug that my bladder had endured the
2hours 45 minutes; it being always preferable to avoid the indecisive and
nagging distraction of contemplating whether or not it’s worth upsetting a
whole row of audience members… to make that dash of defeatism, a surrender to
the ticking tyranny of regrettable Fanta consumption, reeking its brimming
revenge. So, calmly seated throughout, and thus maintaining an affable peace
with fellow cinema goers (who, unconcerned, were rustling excessively large
packets of sugared sustenance), I enjoyed the film in its ambitious entirety.
The film takes it time establishing Batman’s gradual return to Gotham crime
fighting, demonstrating Nolan’s sophisticated grasp of narrative. Thankfully
devoid of a nervous need to please, the film avoids a premature explosion of
action, instead building the expectation of an impending change of gear…and,
when said gear change arrives, the second half of the film confidently delivers
the necessary excitement. Where The Dark
Knight had unsettling themes of disturbed identity (the unforgettable Joker
and the violent anguish of TwoFace), The
Dark Knight Rises deals on a more
social level with notions of class upheaval and the identity of a ‘people’ as
opposed to a ‘person’. Nolan apparently drew a lot of inspiration from Dickens’
A Tale of Two Cities, the film even
quotes a relevantly poignant passage.
The new villain, a very ripped,
hulking and generally gigantic Bane (played by Tom Hardy) takes power under the
rallying promise to return Gotham to ‘the people’; dragging the decadent from
their nests of excess and returning the city to the common man. Except that, as
most revolutionary uprisings, Bane’s powerful appeal ‘to the people’ masks a,
less ideologically concerned, fondness for casual slaughter, unrelenting
violence and further oppression. As a new villain he is sufficiently divorced
from anything too Joker-esque to render any misguided comparisons redundant.
Bane is a beefy, bestial slab of uncompromising brute strength and although the
sound of his voice has prompted much complaint and discussion, he is
essentially a suitably evil counterpoint to Batman. Having said that, he did
occasionally sound like a camp Sean Connery speaking through a cheap guitar
pedal…still, there’s space for such eccentricities in this Batman legacy…I
would not begrudge for this peculiar voice (apparently based on a bare knuckle
fighting gypsy…naturally). Anne Hathaway, as Catwoman, looks appropriately
seductive and lends a potentially ridiculous role the risk, image and allure it
so clearly needs to prevent a travesty like Halle Berry’s S&M pantomime.
Michael Cane is also used with sensitive intuition, which lends the film some
much needed emotion and occasional humour. 8/10
Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* But Were Afraid to Ask – Woody Allen – Taking the form of seven
short vignettes and all allegedly based upon the David Reuben book of the same
name. Unfortunately without the continuity of an overarching narrative, as
opposed to the thematic unity of sex, and without a chance to develop
characters and dialogue, the film is unable to capitalize upon Woody Allen’s
chief strengths. Relying upon moments of slapstick and the absurd, in contrast
to the usual deprecating wit and neurosis of Allen, the film lacks the comedic
success needed to carry off its segmented format. The most memorable highlight
arrives at the end, in which the workings of a body are shown populated by
mechanics straining the gears of an erection. Meanwhile Woody Allen is shown as
a nervous sperm awaiting the immanence of ejaculation, brilliantly evocative of
a trembling and reluctant soldier awaiting D-Day landings…soon to be stranded
upon the cruel shores of vaginal terrain. There is another sketch that combines
Gene Wilder and the implied sodomy of a sheep-disappointingly not as funny as
it could be! Feels partially preemptive of Monty
Python’s The Meaning of Life 6/10
Ted – Seth
Macfarlane – As a transition from popular TV animations (the rightfully
successful empire of Family Guy, American Dad and the questionable spin
off: The Cleaveland Show) to film, Ted is almost exactly what you would
expect. It offers the same quick-witted observational, scatological, insulting
and sexual humour that Family Guy
delivers – just with the compromised momentum of simultaneously providing a
functional cinematic plot. It deals with its tongue in cheek fairy tale
template pretty well (within the bounds of being a watchable comedy)-one is
just felt mildly disappointed that the comedic edge (now less edgy due to Family Guy immunization through
familiarity) could not also be extended to the film’s narrative. It wouldn’t be
unthinkably daring to base a story around something other than the predictable
mecca of matrimonial bliss – and yet, it seems impossible to escape. Such an
escape would help make the film stand out. Instead a likeable Mark Wahlberg and
impossibly attractive Mila Kunis (so very far from her cartoon incarnation ‘Meg’)
are steered towards the, painfully inevitable, conventional happy ending of
their romance. If the risk-taking sting of Seth MacFarlene’s comedy (which is
less extreme here than in his animations) could find a similar cynicism and
biting wit with which to shape the narrative, the film could feel less like the
exploitation of clumsy plot devices for the sake of a handful of gags – and
instead an original gag filled original film. Unfortunately it feels as though
the film’s comedy succumbs to the same lame structures it so competently mocks.
As a result Ted often feels
unnecessarily slowed for condescending plot devices that should, in the tone of
its comedy, be points of ridicule and not rules to respect. However, as an entertaining
comedy it is certainly enjoyable and frequently very funny (easily appealing to
an already established sense of Family
Guy humour), it is just unlikely to stay with the viewer long after
watching. 7/10
