Guess who's back...

Me.



From Edinburgh, not only the home of the biggest arts festival in the world but also the place where famous comedians walk past you in the street frequently. I saw at least six, but NONE of them fell over in a hilarious fashion. I cried a little bit.

Anyway, in a nifty chronological story-like fashion, here is The tale of the films what I saw when I was in that festival thing place.

Monday - First off was Breath, the new film from Korean director Kim Ki-Duk. I've seen two of his other films, and I really liked them, so my expectations were pretty high for this one. Luckily, it was incredibly similar to both of them - the same slow pace, restrained style and unpredictable plotting. True to form, much was ambiguous, with the characters speaking very little dialogue, and backstories only hinted at. I thought this was a very solid effort, although perhaps a bit too similar to the director's other work.

Tuesday I went to see Mike Leigh in person. I'm actually that not well versed in his work, but he just looks so cuddly. It's interesting to hear his thoughts on writing and directing - which are that they're inseperable and the same job for him - and he obviously cares a lot about the state of British cinema. He's also a big fan of the EIFF - praising it for its 'relative informality and lack of bullshit'. After that I saw some Animation from festival fixture Mirrorball; some great, innovative promos there, my favourite of which can be seen above. Unless you're reading this not in the week when it's video of the week. ...

On Wednesday I took a chance on the Surprise Movie - which turned out to be The Kingdom, a new Saudi Arabia-set action thriller with a politically relevant edge. What the film is actually saying was sometimes a bit fuzzy - I would have liked a deeper insight into the American-Middle Eastern culture clash other than "Islam gets in the way", but the climactic shootout is spectacular, and worth the ticket price alone.

Thursday - I saw five things but none of them were films.

Friday - LYNCH is a documentary that follows David Lynch up to and during the shooting of Inland Empire. It's pretty fascinating to see this guy at work - especially on a film such as Inland Empire, which, it's revealed, was pretty much made up as he went along. The filming and editing style was pretentious to the point of distraction, but it was worth enduring it to see a master at work and play. While always cracking jokes and telling stories, Lynch seems constantly aggravated by the ineptitude of everyone around him. At one point he turns to the camera and says "What a load Einstein must have had." After that was Phantom Love, described in the festival brochure as 'a dreamscape of epic imaginative reach', and those are exactly the words I would use to describe it. But only if the question was "Hey Joel, what is that film NOT?" My goodness, this film is slow. The first half consisted of a handful of shots being repeated in all their monotonous glory, and by the time we reached the second half much of the audience had walked out, sensing that a plot was most definitely not on the way. The lush monochrome cinematography is the only redeeming feature, but there's an extent to which you can make a corridor look interesting. It has something to do with sex, the war on terror and a snake, but it's just too hard to care.

On Saturday I started off with some Family Animation, which was a set of very nice and imaginative short films. Two, however, were boring and pretty rubbish and lame. They were produced by the BBC. Boo to the BBC, then. One short, called 'Two Dreams', took the sound of two children describing their dreams while the dreams themselves were played out on screen in a fluid, manic animation. I also saw an animated feature film, the Japanese-American animé Tekkonkinkreet. This was my favourite film of the whole festival, and one of the best films I've seen for a while. It follows two vagrant orphan brothers, Black and White, through their home of Treaure Town while they scare off rival gangs and try to avoid the businessmen trying to eliminate them. The visuals are fantastic - not only is the animation stunning, but the style is such to give a sense of almost documentary immediacy; but this does nothing to negate the imaginative scope of the colour and landscapes. Also worth noting is the excellent electronic score, by British duo Plaid.

Sunday - I've never seen a film quite like the documentary Protagonist - it takes four very different men who tell their life stories to the camera, while parallels are drawn between them to question the structure of life, and even suggesting that it mirrors that of a Greek play (played out with marionettes). The men - a Mexican bank robber, a gay Evangelist, an American martial arts enthusiast and a German political activist - are honest and compelling in their accounts, providing much to think about on obsession, redemption and forgiveness. In Search of a Midnight Kiss is a considerably less intelligent low-budget romantic comedy set on New Years Eve in Los Angeles. Aiming for the wandering, true-to-life style of Richard Linklater, this too often slips into Farrelly Brothers territory, meaning that it's never as smart as it would like to be. The constant references to Myspace and PostSecret are also a little too smug to bear. I ended the festival as I started, with Korea. Park Chan-Wook's latest, I'm A Cyborg, but That's OK, is a departure from his violent vengeance trilogy - instead, it's a classic tale of boy-meets-girl. Except that it's boy-meets-girl-in-a-mental-home-because-girl's-bicycle-told-her-that-she's-a-cyborg-and-he-can-apparently-steal-people's-personality-traits-by-imprinting them-on-a-hat.
This film looks amazing - the colour and CGI are used to great effect to create a cartoon-like wonderland with a sense of childlike awe. Flashback is used throughout to explain the backstory, which leads to very little in the way of a definite plot. This means that while we're made to feel for the characters, they don't reach any satisfactory resolution by the end. The film's packed full of great ideas, and all the supporting characters are given a quirky charm, but the lack of a formal structure means that by the end you're left wanting in the way of narrative. In this way, it reminded me a lot of Michel Gondry's Science of Sleep - lots of imagination, no way to tie it down. I always feel bad when making that criticism, because there should really be nothing wrong with a film that's all ideas, but the end just leaves you a bit cold. That said, it's still really funny and better than most romantic comedies. Not as good as OldBoy, but then nothing is.


Monday - I came home and wrote a blog about everything I saw. I called it 'Guess who's back...'

Ed Film Fest decides to become less August

Okay, that's the greatest pun in the world.



The guys at top of the Edinburgh International Film Festival have announced that from next year onwards the festival will take place in June and not August, as it has done for the past 60 years. This means that it will no longer coincide with the International Festival, the Fringe, the Book Festival, the Internet Festival, the Jazz Festival and a whole host of other festivals and celebrations.
I've been going to Edinburgh in August for the past 6 years, so when I heard that I won't be able to enjoy the EIFF along with everything else I was pretty annoyed. However, then I read about why the change was made and I'm really in support of it now.
Having to compete with all the other events in Edinburgh at the same time must be hard, as there is such a gigantic amount on offer. This means that often the EIFF have to utilise red carpet glitz and big names excessively in order to draw in a crowd - in fact, I thought that this was a major flaw in last year's disappointing 60th celebrations. An emphasis was placed on marketing and image, without the quality to support it.
Changing the date to June, though, could change all that. The EIFF would no longer be part of the general 'Edinburgh festival', but it would be able to establish its own identity. Without the competition, the organisers could give the festival a much stronger presence of independent and homegrown cinema, which supports local or unestablished filmmakers and showcases underground work. Considering that the EIFF is the longest-running film festival in the entire world, this is very, very cool.
I can understand why some people don't agree with the change; it's not convenient, and it will lessen the legendary August crowds, but it's a decision taken by the EIFF so that they can become more independent, so there's no need to consider the other festivals.
Anyway, I'm off to Edinburgh today so I'll let you know in a week or so how amazing/awful/both it is.

Married to the Sea - Part 2

One of the most discussed and notable aspects of Anderson’s misè-en-scene is costume; it is idiosyncratic and often highly stylised to the point of absurdity. But this technique is not random or shallow; the costumes convey important information about the characters and the world in which they live – or rather, the worlds that they would rather believe in. Throughout Rushmore, the protagonist Max Fischer rarely changes from his beloved Rushmore Academy uniform, except for a few exaggerated clichés for his extra-curricular clubs; a red beret for the French club, all-black for his drama club (‘The Max Fischer Players’), a checked scarf for the flying club, etc. Max does change his clothes when his life goes downhill – he wears a large woolly hat and clothes that are too small – as if he is trying to avoid his problems by returning to his peaceful, increasingly distant childhood.

This trend of idiosyncrasy is continued in the next two films: in The Royal Tenenabums, the central characters wear variations of the same costumes from their childhood, trying to recreate their child prodigy days by forbidding themselves to move on with time. Ben Stiller’s widower, Chas, dresses himself and his two sons in identical Adidas tracksuits and black perms. This choice of costume – highly irregular, were it not for the film’s cartoonish tone – instantly tells the audience about Chas’ neurotic grief, and reflects the kind of stilted, troubled family relationships that define the film.

The crew of The Belafonte, Steve Zissou’s ship in The Life Aquatic…, are constantly dressed in matching uniforms (even with equivalents in swimming costume and pyjama form). With their matching red woollen hats, blue shorts and ‘Z’ insignias, Team Zissou have been dressed by Steve in order to emulate his style and (expired) fame. He has trapped everyone around him in his own glorified, nostalgic vision of himself.

Hyperbolic costumes such as these are intended for more than the comedic effect; they tell us about the characters’ convictions in their own efforts, and give us the sense that the mythical realities in which they live – be it Rushmore Academy, a retro-cool New York or an ocean full of cartoon fish – are in fact ones that they have created for themselves. It is as if the characters, like Anderson, have crafted their world especially to suit their needs, and, often, their professional work.

All three of Anderson’s latest films are separated into chapters, using some kind of structural framing device. The Royal Tenenbaums uses the conceit of an on-screen novel (like in the books written by the characters), including chapter headings, The Life Aquatic… uses documentary episodes (like in the films of Steve Zissou), and Rushmore announces each month with a theatrical curtain (like in the plays staged by Max Fischer). As well as providing a convenient and pleasing structural device, this technique wraps the audience up in the minds of the films’ protagonists; the way the film is made and presented is parallel to the way in which the characters work, and live their lives. They are so committed to their convictions that they do view the stories of their lives as plays, or films, or novels. Like Anderson, they see no reason to compromise their actions for any niggling details such as reality. This chaptering device draws the audience into their world – or rather, Anderson’s world – and away from our own.

In addition to establishing an individual style of authorship, Anderson is regarded to be part of a New Wave of Hollywood films, shared by other auteurs such as Sofia Coppola, Charlie Kaufman, Alexander Payne and P.T. Anderson. In fact, the Wave includes a vast number of films and filmmakers, the links between them being sometimes tenuous – but recognisable characteristics are definitely shared between them. These include stylised visuals, compilation soundtracks, complex characterisations and black, ironic humour. Another important trait is ‘blankness’ – utilising the filmic style to lend the films a sense of detachment or dampened effect. In The Life Aquatic…, one scene shows a cross-section of The Belafonte, the camera guiding us between the rooms while Zissou narrates. The visuals are obviously artificial and fantastical, complete with two smiling dolphins and a yellow mini-submarine. Despite this, the sequence maintains a sense of irony, due to Bill Murray’s mundanely deadpan voiceover (“The bearing cases aren’t supposed to look like that, but we can’t afford to fix them this year”).

This sequence demonstrates a juxtaposition that explains why Anderson has a place of honour among a New Wave of ironic films. The stylised aesthetic is off-set by the blank narration; the sweeping scale of the visuals is off-set by the prosaic details. The effect of this is to create a 2D comic-book style, the kind of fantasy we associate with childhood, and the playful, theatrical comedy in the films provide an adolescent charm. Anderson has been described as an ‘auteur of arrested adolescence’, which is accurate, as it seems that his inspirations – and ambitions - lie primarily in his youth. Like his characters, Anderson has created his own world, the consistency of which can definitely give him the auteur label.

Married to the Sea - Part 1

It's the week of exam results, so to celebrate here's an article that was born out of a research project from my film course at college. The focus of the whole project was to explore how and why Wes Anderson might be considered an auteur. This article was written as a summary of ideas, as opposed to the more extensive presentation that was the actual assignment. Unfortunately, this was also written before I actually studied auteur theory...but there it is.

Wes Anderson is one of the most popular and critically lauded directors of the past decade. In just four films, he has crafted his own instantly recognisable and wholly personalised style, establishing him as a true auteur. The ease with which he seems to label each of his films as distinctly ‘his’ is commendable, especially so when the style is so thoroughly consistent. His films present a hyperrealism – or rather, the hyperrealism – that heightens and skews normality in constantly intriguing, entertaining and original ways.

Anderson’s first film was Bottle Rocket (1994), a crime caper written with Anderson’s college friend, Owen Wilson (the film also starred Wilson, and his brother Luke) and adapted from their short film of the same name. Bottle Rocket didn’t receive a huge amount of attention or success, but those who saw it were not short of praise – Martin Scorsese, no less, called it ‘transcendent’, and even named Anderson ‘the next Scorsese’. It’s easy to see the link between the two – Anderson’s attention to detail, hip soundtracks and feverish camerawork makes him worthy of the prestigious comparison. Despite the box-office disappointment of Bottle Rocket, Anderson and Wilson persevered to their second film – and generally their most popular – Rushmore (1998).

With Rushmore, Anderson was given a larger budget and an A-list star (Bill Murray, who loved the script so much he offered to work for free), allowing him to elaborate on the stylistic bravura hinted at in Bottle Rocket. This saw Anderson compared to another high-flying auteur: Quentin Tarantino. Like Tarantino, Anderson makes almost each frame or line of dialogue recognisably his. Rushmore established a consistent sense of authorship for Anderson; it was a cult hit, and hyped the 29-year-old Anderson as the next big thing – the sequel to Tarantino.

In 2001, Anderson delivered on his wunderkind potential with The Royal Tenenbaums, an epic comedy with a cast made up entirely of stars and veteran actors. The film swept up high praise from both critics and audiences, and earned Anderson and Wilson an Oscar nomination for their screenplay. Anderson’s most recent film, the offbeat adventure movie The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, divided audiences – some saw it as his best, others thought it was an over-stylised mess, and perhaps like Tarantino’s Kill Bill, the over-indulgent fall of a great auteur.

As Anderson’s career has progressed, his penchant for surreal visuals and eccentric detail has certainly increased. He has amassed a great number of trademarks in his work, mostly relating to cinematography or misè-en-scene.

Compositional framing is a key component of Anderson’s use of camera (and of his regular cinematographer, Robert Yeoman) throughout his films. People or objects are placed in the centre of the frame, with the surrounding environment manipulated to look complementary, in a flat, artificial manner. The result is the sense of a tailored reality – a place where real things happen, but the way in which they happen has been carefully altered for a more dramatic, theatrical performance. A theatrical aesthetic is in fact very prominent in Anderson’s films – in The Royal Tenenbaums, characters are often framed through window frames, making them appear as comic book characters or puppets. By placing his characters in frames such as these, he is telling the audience how they should be viewed – as thoroughly artificial, exaggerated people. Although the heavy emotional and intellectual nature of Anderson’s screenplays prevents the characters from ever becoming caricatures, they are definitely hyperbolic versions of real people, punctuated by specific and often obscure details that ensure they remain sympathetic and real in a familiar sense.

Film reviews as haikus

Paris, Je T'Aime

Chomet's lots of fun
Christopher Doyle is bonkers
Coens save the day


Princess Raccoon

Frankly quite mental
But also quite impressive
Theatrical fun


Die Hard 4.0

Nicely old-fashioned
Same old shit, different vest
McClane's still got it


South Pacific

Film was alright but
Digitally presented
So looked amazing


Barry Lyndon

The lenses used here
Were developed for NASA
And goodness it shows


Whisper of the Heart

A lesser Ghibli
Fairly charming and well-drawn
But loses its steam