days of being mild

The Best Films of 2007. Can't fix HTML.

2007-12-25T12:45:00.000-08:00

Taking all of the films I've seen at the cinema in 2007 together, I've spent over 8 days straight sitting in a dark room with strangers, looking at a screen.
So let's find out what was the best.
Note: by '2007', I mean anything put on general release in the UK this year, and by 'best', I mean favourite. Also, I haven't yet seen The Lives of Others.

In reverse order:

Michael Clayton - In which George Clooney once again proves that he's the best thing to happen to Hollywood since The Monkees. Writer-director Tony Gilroy takes a scenario that might come from one of the Bourne films (which he wrote), and places it in a much more familiar universe, populated by characters suffocating under a deadening corporate presence. The cast are excellent - Tom Wilkinson desperate and haywire, Tilda Swinton almost unwillingly ruthless - and the minimalist score by James Newton Howard doesn't let you forget that even people talking can be thrilling. Throughout the film, Clooney's Clayton is worn down more and more by all kinds of guilt, physically sagging and not once cracking a smile until the hackneyed, uncomfortably snug ending. Surprisingly watchable stuff.

The Science of Sleep – Following up his massively accomplished Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Michel Gondry delivered this surreal autobiographical tale of unrequited love. Initially, I was distracted by how the film suffers in comparison to Eternal Sunshine without Charlie Kaufman’s exquisite writing. Indeed, the writing isn’t as well characterised as Kaufman’s, but this lends the film a sense of liberation rarely seen in the mainstream. Gondry mixes his trademark lo-fi manipulation of the mise-en-scène with the freewheeling, character driven traditions of new wave cinema. It’s chaotic, absurdly tragic, desperately serious and over-crammed with ideas. As such, it captures reality more accurately than 95% of films.

The Bourne Ultimatum - Spider-man, Pirates, Rush Hour, Ocean's - too many trilogies lost their way this year. Paul Greengrass apparently saw this coming when he watched The Bourne Identity. He saw a lot of potential, and so gave us a taster in The Bourne Supremacy. We were excited. Then, he unleashed all of that potential by taking exactly what made the other films so good, and making it bigger, faster and more punchy. Starting with a probably-legendary chase in Waterloo Station, the film briskly whips all around the globe, to an enthralling, unforgettable action scene in Tangiers. This is proper action, without gimmicks or fighter jets, that moves so fast, you should really wear a helmet.

Bridge to Terabithia – There were so many reasons this film shouldn’t have worked. It’s a Disney film, but Pixar aren’t involved. The protagonists are kids, but they’re not saying anything rude or ironic. Robert Patrick is in it, but he’s not kicking any ass. Worst of all, it was marketed as The Chronicles of Narnia: Even more lame this time. Luckily, director and Rugrats co-creator Gapor Csupo handles it with remarkable sensitivity and vitality. Like with Rugrats, Csupo displays a remarkable ability to reflect the worldview of children, and explores the subject matter with a surprisingly hefty emotional punch. The most grown-up kids’ film of the year.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford – Two successful westerns were released this year, which got some people hopeful for a genre revival. The first, 3:10 to Yuma, was a rollicking, guns-n-horses tale of fatherly love and redemption. The second, Jesse James, is almost the polar opposite – a grim, weighty and subtly tense tragedy. Brad Pitt gives the best performance of his life as James, who he portrays as a paranoid psychopath who is struggling to live with his own myth. The scenes between him and Casey Affleck as Ford are alive with nervous energy, the ominous and inevitable threat always present. Everything is shot through glass; truths are distorted, features are exaggerated to the point of burden and America is a melancholy wasteland healing from a terrible war. Yuma was received more readily, with some critics complaining that Jesse James is ‘just too long and too slow’. Stupid, stupid, stupid critics.

Atonement – This blew apart all of my prejudices against English period dramas. Passionate as a romance, devastating as a war film, enthralling as a thriller and authentic as a period piece. Not a frame is wasted; every part of the film feels entirely complete, and utterly polished. Director Joe Wright perfectly paces the shifting, deceptive tone of the plot, and brings to life the vital issues within it, Seamus McGarvey provides some of the best cinematography of the best ten years, and James McAvoy reminds us why Shameless isn’t very good anymore – because he’s not in it. Made with intrigue, beauty and a fierce passion, this is everything I thought this kind of film wasn’t.

This is England - I wasn't alive in the early 80s. I've never hung out on a council estate in Nottingham. My only interaction with skinhead culture is avoiding eye contact. But even with all that I just know that This is England captured all of those things very authentically. Shane Meadow's knowledge and love for his subject is felt in every shot, from the detail of the ska-punk culture as embraced by the characters to the actors' hugely naturalistic banter. The first act of the film is the most joyfully satisfying of the year, meaning that of course the final act is the most tragic and miserable. 11-year-old Thomas Turgoose gained much of the critics' attention, but the rest of the cast are just as impressive. Stephen Graham, he of Snatch fame, portrays the scary thug Combo with a raw sensitivity, a living embodiment of all the contradictions of skinhead culture.

Goodbye Brokeback...

2007-12-15T03:29:00.000-08:00

Pirated trailer online.
First six minutes before IMAX 'I Am Legend' screenings.
Heath Ledger finally giving The Joker worthy treatment.
People, this will rock. Hard.

Day Off

2007-12-07T10:03:00.000-08:00

Let's establish one thing first of all: I love Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials. Out of the ever-decreasing memories of my childhood, reading those books stays firm and strong. If the Lord of the Rings films were my generation's Star Wars, then His Dark Materials are my generation's Lord of the Rings books. Which would make the His Dark Materials films the next generation's - never mind. The point is, I was always cautious approaching the film adaptation, The Golden Compass. Especially when I found out that New Line Cinema had forced the filmmakers to tone down the overtly atheist themes of the book. Ultimately, though, I just decided that the film was never going to do justice to the books anyway, or at least my memory of them, so went in blind. The result is a pretty firm 'all right'. The dæmons are incoporated well into the visuals, with some obvious but pretty CGI. Also, when Lyra is shown a bustling, retro-futuristic city (more CGI), it's a steampunk wonderland. I totally believed in this universe, I just didn't care about it very much. As with that other fantasy literary franchise, Harry Potter, the films can't fit in all the of the book's complex ideas without wandering out of family-friendly running times. This means that sub-plots are only glimpsed, histories are only suggested and the excellent supporting cast (Eva Green, Daniel Craig, Sam Elliot) are given around ten lines between them.

Still, the fast pace keeps things entertaining, and means that the filmmakers have to find more original ways to introduce Pullman's ker-azy ideas. As for the God business, the film is, if not anti-religion then certainly anti-religious authority; an idea that should have been explored further. But, as with the books, the sub-text will always make you insist that it's not aimed purely at children, and the distributors won't listen. Although the film didn't really stay with me once it ended, there's one thing I learned: polar bears are awesome. Seriously, if I had a talking polar bear to kick ass and take names then just about all of my problems would be over.

From a gun emplacement on the coast of Santa Monica, Justin Timberlake gives a brief alternate history (and future) of the United States government. He then flicks through a bible and focuses his huge rifle on the beach, before informing us that he's about to tell the story of 'the way the world ends'. And so begins Southland Tales, the new film from Richard 'Donnie Darko' Kelly, and the second half of a saga started in graphic novel form. As far as ambition is concerned, it's up there with the Big Bang. Take a deep breath, here's the basic premise: it's 2008, and the Republican government control the internet while engaging in World War 3. Boxer Santaros, a movie star with amnesia, has written a film-within-the-film with porn star-turned-entrepeneur, Krysta Now, which fortells the end of the world. In order to research his role, Boxer is following police officer Ronald Taverner (who is actually working for a Neo-Marxist cell, posing as his twin brother Roland). Meanwhile, Boxer's mother-in-law watches everything through surveillance-within-surveillance that seems to encompass everything. Oh, and there's an eccentric billionaire who has created a way to remotely power everything on earth from a machine that harnesses the ocean's waves.

Kelly seems to be attempting to set himself up as a new David Lynch, one who's hip to the jazz. Nothing feels real, probably in an attempt to emphasis the act of watching, which in turn highlights the prominent theme of surveillance and information streaming. The only thing to really save the film from being completely self-involved is the heavy presence of references - to the Bible, to pop culture, to Donnie Darko, and to itself. But if Donnie Darko's weirdness was off-set by the genuine human drama, the oddball characters in Southland Tales only serve to feed the many layers of strangeness (especially when the cast is comprised of a series of jokey cameos). This film is fascinated with itself - and that's not entirely a bad thing, it makes you want to know what all the fuss is about. Although it's very messy, and much of the humour falls flat, I have to salute Southland Tales for sheer gall and originality. Any film that explores an apocalypse that isn't caused by asteroids or maniacal villains is all right by me.

Things to come

2007-11-25T02:55:00.002-08:00

Saw this on Wired News and liked it.

I'm not sure if Blade Runner is more dystopian than A Clockwork Orange, but it's the most interesting graph I've seen in a while. I think with the current "we're-actually-all-living-on-a-dying-planet" thing, dystopias are getting more and more relevant. It's probably worth pointing out that numbers 5, 6 and 8 aren't set in the future at all, proving that, if not more popular, it's at least more fun and interesting to show how the future is going to be terrible.

As Robert Downey Jr. says in A Scanner Darkly (another grim dystopia), "This is a world getting progessively worse - can we not agree on that?" Well, apparently not, if people still believe in a utopian future. My dad once told me that in his more optimistic moods he thinks in the future we'll look back on this period as a dark time when we killed everything unecessarily and did everything wrong. I think the truth is more like we'll look back on this period as a time when we could breath the air outside and we weren't enslaved by robots.

Earth-as-utopia is actually pretty hard to imagine now, unless it's some sort of false utopia where the government keeps the masses under control through a mix of mindless television and consumerism, and apathy is promoted while acting out of step with ordinary society is thoroughly discouraged and suspected. Corporations, meanwhile, have more power than anyone, with gainful independent activities all but destroyed.

...Where do we come on that graph?

I say wang three times in this one

2007-11-05T04:44:00.000-08:00

David Cronenberg's latest, Eastern Promises, was released recently. A London-based thriller centred around the Russian crime underworld, it's not great. Fairly restrained and tepid compared to much of Cronenberg's powerful previous work. However, there is one much-discussed scene which really shines and sticks in the memory. It occurs when the driver for a Russian crime family (Viggo Mortensen) has to fend off two thugs who want him dead for revenge of their brother's murder. The thugs, heavily dressed in black and wielding knives, attack Mortensen in a bath house, when he is entirely naked apart from a puzzle of tattoos covering his body. It's a powerful, brutal, heart-pounding scene that has drawn attention no so much for the violence but for the rare inclusion of a wang.
When the scene was over, the film slipped back into its plodding plotlines - and got me thinking about awesome scenes in average films. Snatch, for example, is a deeply irritating and often embarassing film. However, I have seen it more times than I would like to admit, because of the boxing scene that acts as the film's climax. It's fiercely edited and mixed, coming off somewhere in between a rave and a Guiness advert. You'd expect from this that Guy Ritchie would be a dab hand at short films and adverts, but his awful, awful, awful BMW film got rid of this suspicion promptly.
It's something Tarantino seems to warming to as his budgets get bigger - whereas Pulp Fiction strung together a series of unrelated but well-crafted vignettes, his latest efforts seem to be defined by their high points. Kill Bill Volume 1 was really only exceptional for the showdown at the house of blue leaves, which provided the kind of excitement whose absence from Kill Bill Volume 2 might explain why it was such a chore. Death Proof took this even further - almost every review read something like "Not very good, but with a worthwhile car chase at the end". Unfortunately the effect is dampened somewhat by the preceding two hours of dull arrogance, so this is definitely a scene that's better when standing alone.
All the scenes I've mentioned so far have been action scenes - well, that's because they generally kick-start a slow, monotonous plot, or gives you a reason to care about the characters. Action films themselves are prime for YouTube scene grabbing, with the majority of big set-pieces readily available for out-of-context picking, the narrative not causing any concern. In fact, most action scenes are remembered as a string of punchy scenes all packed together, with any talky bits acting as filler. This can be done very well (the central hour of King Kong was a dialogue-free marathon of one-upmanship) or very badly (Shoot 'Em Up was like that bit in The Office where Gareth grabs the big inflatable wang, about to make a joke, then realises he was too excited to think of anything and puts it back).
Anyway, I haven't really figured out a point to this post yet, apart from bad films often feature awesome scenes and Tarantino should shut up. I think it's just YouTube, forcing me to note down nice bits in a film so that I can re-watch them later. Luckily, YouTube doesn't work on my new laptop, so maybe someday I'll get back to watching films in their entirety. Or maybe I just love a good action film. Wang.

:-(

2007-10-19T10:08:00.000-07:00

A Fistful of Promos

2007-10-18T07:39:00.000-07:00

Music videos are generally at the cutting edge of technology, innovative technique and creative freedom. Hooray for that.
Here are some of my favourites.

Us - Regina Spektor
Dir. Adria Petty
Regina Spektor's first music video is intially notable for its use of stop-motion animation, with objects whizzing around and filling up an empty room. However, it's the overall editing that really takes over - lines of the song are compiled from frozen images of Spektor, suddenly spliced with her singing. In this way, Spektor herself is turned into a stop motion puppet, and the effect is to perfectly capture the spirited yet elegant tone of the song. Also worth noting is the cinematography; in a Sgt. Pepper-esque paper room of icons, the camera sways so close to Spektor that her eyes are in focus but her nose isn't. The framing is both playful and compelling; her face is always just out of shot, as if both she and the camera can't help but move to the song.

Sugar Water - Cibo Matto
Dir. Michel Gondry
No list would be complete without something from Michel 'Wait, what? Do that again.' Gondry. Okay, bear with me: the screen is split up into two halves, with each half following one of the band's two frontwomen in single takes. One half is playing in reverse, and vertically inverted, so one of the women getting up from bed parallels the other going to sleep. Then they meet halfway, and the focus is switched. Then you realise that the two shots are in fact the same shot. I have to admit, it took me a while to work out what was going on. Gondry's trademark visual trickery is at its strongest here, constantly flipping everything on its head while including the smallest of details. Colour, movement, people, mood and sound combined to create an unusual and slightly eerie tone.

War Photographer - Jason Forrest
Dir. Joel Trussell
There's a moment in School of Rock when Jack Black's character, after a guitar solo, says "Dude, is my face okay? I think you melted it off." That's what I would have said to Joel Trussell were he sitting next to me the first time I saw this. Combining Vikings, pirates, robots, marching bands, guitar battles, rum and a whole lot of stickittothemaniosis, this video rocks, and it rocks hard. Reminiscent of the bold, reference-heavy animation of Genndy Tartakovsky, it's edited with a perfect comic timing and just makes you go "yeah!", or something of that kidney. As it happens, when I first saw this I was sitting next to a big man who looked like he didn't want to be disturbed, particularly with the status of my face.

Imitation of Life - R.E.M.
Dir. Garth Jennings
Many music videos are praised for having been shot in a single take, that spans 3 or 4 minutes without a cut (see Sugar Water). Well, what about a music video shot in a single take that spans 20 seconds without a cut? That’s exactly how long this video took to film; one wide, elaborate shot of a pool party, which is then played backwards and forwards while focussing on the various guests’ relationships. Like much of R.E.M.’s work, it’s both celebratory and tragic – a party where a lot is going wrong, but you don’t realise until you look closer.

Da Funk - Daft Punk
Dir. Spike Jonze
In which a crutch-bearing, ghetto-blasting, man-sized dog wanders through the 'Big City', and comes a cropper of its fast-paced, unfriendly tone. Jonze makes the music entirely diegetic, even drowning it out with constant dialogue and raucous city ambience. We never learn why Charles' leg is in a cast, or why he is a talking dog for that matter, but what prevails is an authentic sense of urban isolation. The prosaic, naturalistic dialogue off-sets the obscure scenario, so that we're drawn into the characters just as much as the music. In fact, once it's over, you'll have the song in your head but probably won't remember hearing it at all.

This was fun. Tell me your favourites.

My Teenage Geek Out

2007-10-08T10:58:00.000-07:00

A number of years ago, I made an active decision to ‘get into film’. I don’t remember when or where it happened, but at some point I must have definitely decided that that was going to be my ‘thing’. I had the basic induction – to extensively watch Tarantino, Burton and Scorsese, the fun auteurs. Following that was a dive into new Asian cinema – the new wave du jour, meaning that I could understand the most talked about cinema of my generation. This had a kind of ‘I-was-there’ quality to it, a sound investment in my future conversations.

Then came focusing on building my knowledge of ‘proper’ cinema: intellectual directors who were established as worthy of debate. The way I saw it, if I managed to experience ‘real’ directors first, it would give me a head start in other aspects of investigation. Of course, I found my favourites: Kurosawa, Keaton, Kubrick, Kar-Wai… somehow, filmmakers with names beginning with ‘K’ helped validate me as a film fan. This tactic definitely paid off; after tasting films from different places and periods, I quickly became used to judging each film not only as an individual but also in a cinematic context – understanding that each one was part of a whole. What it didn’t do, however, was expose me to much in the way of science fiction. It had no place in what many critics regarded the cinema worth watching.

Eventually I took an increasing interest in genre – the most rigid surviving classification of cinema, and an extension of the ‘individual as part of a whole’ viewpoint. It’s almost impossible for a film to entirely escape genre classification, and when it does it somehow doesn’t sit well with the critics, who generally label it as ‘confused’ or ‘inconsistent’. It’s a prejudice that is used by everyone; I still feel anxious approaching any ‘romantic psychological thriller with horror elements’. This year, Danny Boyle’s latest film, Sunshine, most definitely a sci-fi, was released. For some reason, I got very excited. Why? I’ve never really loved Danny Boyle, and I thought Alex Garland’s other screenplay, 28 Days Later, was a bit rubbish. Then I read an interview with Boyle, where he described what attracted him to the project: “What a great starting point: eight astronauts strapped to the back of this massive bomb, behind a shield, flying towards the sun.” Oh yeah.

The idea was just so cool. Not just any cool, but that special kind of light sabre, flying machines, bicycle-over-the-moon cool. In other words…sci-fi cool. And I loved it. Good lord. In my rush to understand the cinema elite, I had neglected my dormant love for all things shiny and bleepy. I couldn’t get enough. I went back to all the films I had seen and disregarded – Blade Runner, Total Recall, Alien, 2001, Children of Men, Brazil – with renewed interest. There was just something there, something about these films that could attract me like no other genre. It’s not just film, however – sci-fi has even extended into my literary tastes. I’ve indulged in sci-fi both soft (Ray Bradbury, Kurt Vonnegut) and hard (Arthur C. Clarke, Stanislaw Lem) and devoured them all. I’ve even been reading actual science. With actual facts.

I should have seen it coming, really. Many of my favourite TV shows – Spaced, Cowboy Bebop, Firefly, The Powerpuff Girls – owed more to sci-fi than anything. Somehow it seemed more acceptable in the television format, due to the medium’s reputation as more accommodating to geeky cults. Also, the episodic format allowed for extensive exploration of far-out ideas, which tend to dominate quality television anyway.

My hunger shows no signs of abating; if anything, it’s getting stronger. I think I’m getting closer to pinning down what attracts me to sci-fi so strongly. Particularly, I’m fascinated by depictions of the future, partly for the social and political implications and partly for the cool and/or retro-futuristic visual styling. The side effect of this has been a growing interest in urban spaces, technology and space. Of course, film is still my ‘thing’ so my brain can’t handle incredibly complex theories surrounding these things. But I’m trying. Whatever happens, there’s one thing I’ve learned from all of this - I’ve been a sci-fi fan my entire life, and never realised before this year.

Fight for Your Right

2007-09-28T09:52:00.000-07:00

Wandering through Wikipedia, I came across the surprising discovery that one of the 'video nasties' is still banned in the UK.

Fight for Your Life, "The least politcally correct film ever seen", apparently features rape, infanticide and constant racial abuse. This is surprising because, despite the UK's rocky past of censorship, I assumed that all of the video nasties (including cult hits such as The Evil Dead and The Driller Killer) had since been made available, and that the attitudes against them more or less died along with Mary Whitehouse.

However, 13 of the 74 films are still outright banned in England. Even more surprising, Fight for Your Life has been released in a remastered DVD package in America. From the press it receieved, it doesn't sound like the kind of legend that The Evil Dead became, but the difference across the Atlanatic is shocking. That said, American censorship is a bit weird. Kung Fu Hustle was rated the same as The Passion of the Christ. Yeah. What?

Perhaps most interesting is the film Visions of Ecstasy - still banned in the UK, due to blasphemy. Blasphemy? Italy's censorship board has a member from the Roman Catholic Church and they're still more lenient than that. The option to cut offensive scenes from Visions of Ecstasy didn't exist, as the film is only 19 minutes long and they would have been deleting half of the film.

Compared to many countries, UK censorship is (as we would expect) pretty good. Nothing has been banned on a purely political basis; many other countries still can't see Farenheit 9/11 or The Da Vinci Code. Of course, Malaysia banned Babe: Pig in the City, so some people are just unlucky. This is why it's so surprising that there's a film banned due to such a traditionalist reason as blasphemy. It raises questions over our national identity (if there is one); are we still so conservative to place religious views above political ones? This, in turn, questions the need for censorship at all. What exactly is the role of art if artists can't portray and suggest exactly what they'd like? Doesn't that make the film industry just another way in which the government can control the masses?
...Is that what it already is?

Nuggets

2007-09-22T05:44:00.000-07:00

An extra for Indiana Jones 4 casually revealed top-secret plot details in a local newspaper interview.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford looks to be one of the best films of the year, and it might just restore my faith in Brad Pitt. Who, incidentally, I dreamt was my best friend.

Early (though limited) press for Neil 'Dog Soldiers/The Descent’ Marshall’s latest, Doomsday, is negative, threatening my hopes for a Malcolm McDowell revival.

McDowell is also in Rob Zombie’s remake of Halloween. Just…just forget it.

George Romero’s latest in the Living Dead saga, however, looks very, very interesting. Diary of the Dead will be set on the same night as Night of the Living Dead, with a group of students making a horror film in the woods when they are attacked by zombies. The production is independent, as opposed to the glossy studio thrills of Land of the Dead, but The Weinstein Company have bought the rights and guaranteed a wide release.

Four major sequences in the increasingly awesome-looking The Dark Knight have been shot in IMAX format, with director Christopher Nolan really pushing the possibilities of shooting entire mainstream feature films that way.

Terrence Malick’s favourite film of the last 10 years is Zoolander. Excellent.

Dead yampy, but he baint 'alf bostin'

2007-09-21T03:37:00.000-07:00

Mark Locke is a local filmmaker probably best known for his promos for Birmingham band Misty's Big Adventure and cult New York act Jeffrey Lewis. Locke has also made a string of shorts, and a feature film called Crust, about a 7-foot shrimp boxer. That's a 7-foot shrimp that boxes, not a boxer who fights 7-foot shrimp. Although I guess it is about that as well.

The promos are generally fast-paced and colourful, remaining faithful to the songs and allowing them to flourish while exhibiting a sharp sense of deadpan humour. The imagery is often memorable and subversive, such as having Will Oldham beat and rape Jeffrey Lewis, or the nightmarish, sexed-up images of Ten Benson's Tits. Still, that detached sense of humour is never quite lost. While professional, the promos are relatively informal; the handheld camerawork and quick editing maintains that sense of indepedence and freedom.

The shorts, while more structured, are similar. They all maintain a comic streak, often from gross-out or slapstick visual gags. Lube has been described as 'a love story with a difference' - it incorporates bats, popcorn and lubricant gel in a funny and strangely tragic tale of two cinema stewards. The Missing Link is a well-observed mockumentary about an arrogant filmmaker who considers himself saviour of the lower classes, and his inevitable downward spiral when he battles a smug businessman. All of the films are totally unpredictable, constantly taking the audience by surprise with a well-placed line of dialogue or visual punchline.

If there's any theme running through Locke's work, it's that particular Midlands viewpoint that life is rarely as cool as what we see on screen, due to the failings and disappointments of reality. Whether it's showing a pack of sexy vampires changing into sneakers for a chase, or the unforunate effect of too much fake tan, the characters in Locke's work are never quite as cool as they think they are. This is probably shown best in the brilliant promo for Blaze's Hollow Head - the song, a thumping heavy metal track, is mumbled by the vocalist, who does little more than watch the telly and drink a cup of tea in his spotless suburban living room.
Another common factor is the brummie accent; almost every character in Locke's films has a very strong one, making them seem that little bit more laughable. I know, I know. But come on. Time to face facts.

There's a DVD of Mark Locke's work available, but you can see most of his work at his website
www.fortmarkfilms.com

A Fitting Tribute

2007-09-09T08:24:00.000-07:00

Spike Lee has always been a visible figure, unafraid of tackling or attracting controversies. When his biopic Malcolm X was released, Lee encouraged black students to skip school to see it, and on Real Time with Bill Maher Lee stated that the US government could have been purposefully slow in their response to hurricane Katrina. As each of Lee’s films are defined – regardless of cast or genre – by Lee himself, it was expected that his epic documentary on Katrina, When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts, would give Lee the chance to air his own anger and damning views on the failure of the government’s response.

It came as a surprise, then, to find that Lee doesn’t once appear in the four-and-a-half hour film, nor does any voice over or ironic captions. Lee literally lets the city speak for itself, interviewing dozens of survivors, politicians, scientists and New Orleans residents. The result is a film that displays, while a collective voice of anger, many different figures to place the blame on. A case is offered for why everyone involved was guilty, be it Bush, FEMA, the engineers, the military, or Mayor of New Orleans Ray Negin (who is also interviewed, and features prominently). Individual residents’ stories are pieced together from over 500 hours of footage to display a harrowingly realistic portrait of the events. Stars involved such as Sean Penn and Kanye West are given very little screen time, as Lee knows that they can’t tell the story of the forgotten underclass that is at the heart of the tragedy.

This displays a maturity and desire for the truth that should define documentary filmmaking; a far cry from the Nouvelles Egotistes like Michael Moore and Nick Broomfield. The information is not filtered through one singular figure, which means that it achieves a purity and objectivity not often seen in the recent documentary renaissance. The press made a fuss over Lee’s supposed belief that the levees were dynamited by the government, in order to drown the city; in fact, this theory is put forward by a handful of residents (who remember that the levees were exploded in 1927). Others in the film say that this theory does not stand up, and there is no substantial evidence to support it. The point of including this in the film is not to provoke conspiracy theories; it’s simply that the voices of all the people need to be heard.

Also admirable is the film’s comprehensive view of the tragedy; in four acts, Lee examines the build up to the hurricane, the horrific floods, the political response and ramifications, and most interestingly, the cultural loss that Katrina brought with it. New Orleans is famed for being a unique city, a multicultural milieu originally both a thriving slave trade and the place where slaves could find freedom. Often, Lee’s film diverts away from Katrina itself to examine what has been lost in the unique traditions in the music and communities of the city. We are given a description of the New Orleans “jazz funeral” – a funeral procession played by a brass band, first playing solemn hymns and then upbeat swing. One stunning sequence in the film shows a jazz funeral played for New Orleans itself; this is the film’s most intensely emotional moment, as it encapsulates the entire city’s anger, grief and helpless disappointment at the disaster.

The literal loss of New Orleans is also devastating; the black and poor evacuees were dispersed all over the country in need of refuge, effectively destroying entire communities. This sheds light on the drastic differences and injustices displayed geographically across America, and perhaps reflects the social dislocation experienced by the American underclass. As the camera moves through endless rubble and devastation in a post-Katrina New Orleans, the audience is left to contemplate not only how the city can begin to rebuild, with poor schooling and fewer children, but also why these communities return. The truth is, the New Orleans residents need to hold on to what they have. They are in no position to either help or harm the government, and still need a place to exist in America.

The film’s approach to narrative is to join together personal stories, but this does not restrict the ambitious scope of the polemic – on the contrary, the points being made are only heard louder when coming from dozens of voices. The interviewees are so varied that the subjects touched upon include global warming, 9/11, insurance, oil and the war in Iraq – almost a catalogue of America’s ills, illuminated by a major national tragedy. The film is unafraid of questioning America’s legacy in the wake of emergencies; why, if Katrina was a disaster on a larger scale, with a more substantial loss, will be 9/11 be commemorated and acted upon more?

Free from irony or ego, When the Levees Broke is documentary filmmaking at its best, a reminder of the importance of cinema to explore every triumph and failure of a nation. The film ends with the second part of the New Orleans funeral march – the upbeat swing dance, a celebration of life. A more suitable ending couldn’t be imagined for a film that is not only important as a revelation of the tragedies of Katrina, but also as a celebration and tribute to New Orleans, a place that has been otherwise left behind by America.

Guess who's back...

2007-08-27T07:03:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-19T02:47:00.001-07:00

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

2007-08-17T04:16:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-14T07:46:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-06T11:39:00.001-07:00

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

D'ohn't believe the hype

2007-07-28T04:47:00.001-07:00

IT'S NOT A DISAPPOINTMENT!

Yes, the film 18 years in the making (except not really 18 years in the making) has arrived, and it's quite good.
I remember the makers of the show (or one of them, anyway) saying that if they made a film, it would have to end the entire series, and bring closure to all of the characters and threads. That guy got fired or something, as this definitely isn't what they've done here. A lot of the minor characters are ignored or only given a few lines, and very few reach the conclusions that they've been trying for through the years. The reason for this, really, is that there are just too many characters. Putting them all into a film makes you realise just how big The Simpsons is. At one point, the camera shoots forward through a massive torch-bearing crowd, and you realise that you can name almost every character seen in the shot; that's a testament to the show's power.

The film is essentially a very long episode, albeit with grander ambitions and more nuanced character arcs. I might normally respond negatively to this kind of thing (like with the Family Guy "movie"), but it really worked here. It deflates a lot of the hype surrounding the film, which is a good thing, as it just reminds you why The Simpsons is so good: the brilliant writing. There are very few fancy animation tricks, and a low celebrity cameo count; the writers have been wise to stick to a formula that has given them an unequalled amount of success. It makes you glad they've waited so long to make a film; this only works because we know the characters inside out.

Above all else, this film is funny. Very funny. Like, classic Simpsons funny. There's broad social satire, OTT slapstick and a soon-to-be-classic nude skateboarding scene. Yes, some of the jokes don't quite hit, and some are stolen from previous episodes or even other films, but the humour ultimately undermines any sentimentality or plot. A sequel will very likely be on the way, hopefully with Mr. Burns as the antagonist this time. Come on. Look at him. Please?

So, the biggest TV show ever and definitely not the biggest film ever. Because, really, it would just be too long a film.

Also, giving Homer a pig was a stroke of genius. Whoever thought of that should get knighted.

Ruin your fun.

2007-07-19T04:42:00.001-07:00

I love YouTube. You love YouTube. We all love YouTube. It's a great thing. It just is.
It's a dream come true for many, many people, myself included. Countless clips, of every sort, at your fingertips, with no need to download or wait very long.
Aah.

However.
I'm also worried about the other effects of YouTube. I have been spending a fair amount of time on there, both discovering new things and re-discovering my apparent love for musicals. In this time, there has been a dramatic drop in the number of actual feature films I've watched. It's not like I'm without them - there are always DVDs that I haven't watched, or at least special features. Lately, though, I can barely manage an hour-long feature. I suspect that the favourite-bit mentality of YouTube has affected my attention span, so when faced with the choice of Barry Lyndon or that trippy bit from 2001, I opt for whatever's shorter.

Now, I don't want to stop using YouTube. As I said before, it's very, very good. I HAVE been a bit busy lately, but I'm always a bit busy. It probably also has something to do with the closure of Cinephilia and a general reluctance to spend money. As good as YouTube is, though, I think it's a definite danger that we could just end up watching all of our favourite bits over and over again, instead of looking for anything new at all.

SoulSonicCinema #3

2007-07-03T05:47:00.000-07:00

Last night was SoulSonicCinema's third night of retro film fun, at the Rainbow pub in Digbeth. Although armchairs and sofas weren't provided as promised, it was free and friendly. After a DJ set, playing soundtracks from exploitation hits such as Cleopatra Jones and The Thing With Two Heads, we were treated to a selection of trashy 70s trailers, including the decidedly monotonous Massacre: Mafia Style :-

I know what you're thinking. Why are John Candy and Bruce Forsyth shooting up the Rotunda? It's best not to ask.
This was followed by an episode of The Ren & Stimpy Show - this show is great. Way ahead of its time and absolutely hilarious. The dialogue is minimal, and often non-sensical, so the animation can have a free range that delves to a worrying extent into the psychosis of the characters. Some people have described it as being 'too gross', but...well, yeah, okay, if you don't like cartoon violence then you'll find it too gross. Really, though, it's no worse than Itchy and Scratchy. Just drawn better.
After this was the main feature - Point Blank, starring Lee Marvin.

I was actually surprised by this film - given the trashy nature of everything else, this was damn good. It captured that specialist fashion and visual flair that could only have belonged to 1960s LA.
Marvin stars as Walker, a thief who gets double-crossed and left for dead. Then he returns, a dead man walking, looking for his money, and vengeance on those who pulled the strings...
It was very stylish and sexy, and refreshingly free of unintentionally funny moments. The more 60s/70s crime films I see, the more I realise that people will never be as cool as they were.

Respite my face

2007-06-28T12:12:00.001-07:00

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH.

Yesterday was my last exam, which means that I've finished college forever.
This is nice, but also kind of sad because college was great.

The quality of the curriculum was generally quite good, so for exams I was lucky enough to study films such as Chungking Express, La Haine, In the Mood for Love, The Killer, Do the Right Thing, City of God, Irreversible, A Clockwork Orange and...er...Cliffhanger. What's really great, though, is the opportunity to just write about your favourite films, so I've also written about The Evil Dead, The Man Who Wasn't There, The Virgin Suicides, Rushmore and Napolean Dynamite because of the scope of the film and media courses.

I also did a research project/presentation/article on Wes Anderson and a huuuuuge research study on post-9/11 American TV Drama, specifically The Wire and 24.
While this possibly means that I've grown incredibly sick of both Wes Anderson and post-9/11 TV Drama, I've learnt a whole lot and it was actually FUN to learn because I chose to learn it.

It wasn't just the film and media courses that allowed this flexibility; I turned my English coursework assignments into writing on Asian cinema and a study of the language of Firefly.

All of this and a short film and a kid's TV show with a monkey.

All in all, college was fun.
Here's to college.
Thanks college.

How the West Was Won: Part 2

2007-06-23T14:15:00.000-07:00

Death is everywhere in the western – anytime a cowboy wants to settle his problem, he reaches for his gun. But ‘Once Upon A Time in the West’ has none of the basic ‘chasing injuns’ morality – it is men who know they are going to die, and who act upon their frontier instincts of greed, vengeance and honour. These are cowboys at the end of their time, at the brink of their era and having to lie down in the face of a new age. The evolution of industry and civilisation is symbolised in the film by the railroad – a major feature of both the mise-en-scène and the narrative. In the vast, empty landscapes of the desert, the black railway line could appear as an intrusion; something new and out of place in an untouched place. The worst enemy of the cowboy is the future – a threat to their old-fashioned methods and philosophies. But the representation of the cowboys in this film provides a sensitive and thoughtful depiction of a time that changed America. They are aged and weathered, and, to quote Leone, they “are conscious of the fact that they will not arrive at the end alive”.

This awareness of the presence of death allowed the film to be permeated with a sense of mourning and melancholy – a farewell to the old west. But the railroad is also present to signify change, and a progression in civilisation. One famous shot follows the film’s heroine Jill McBain as she steps off the train and leaves the station – the camera rises over the wooden shack to majestically reveal a half-built town, busy with activity and inhabitants. This is a pure example of how ‘Once Upon A Time in the West’ depicts its social context – right in the middle of a drastic change that killed one culture and ushered in many others. The final showdown between Harmonica and Frank is made all the more dramatic when we consider that these are two figures of the mythic Old West – and character types that have been seen in many westerns before this – that will soon disappear from their world forever. This shows how the vital link between the film’s signifiers of death, the railroad and cowboy culture allow ‘Once Upon A Time in the West’ to transcend its peers and become a classic.

Gender roles, too, are examined in the film. Traditional westerns had women firmly as secondary characters – distressed damsels, humorous squaws or homely mothers and wives. Claudia Cardinale’s Jill, however, is none of these. She is a New Orleans ex-whore who arrives in the Wild West to find her new family slaughtered, and at this point the story becomes hers – of all the characters, she bears the most responsibility and faces the most hardship – and she does so alone. Both maternal and sexual, Jill is the culmination of other female characters in westerns who is allowed to be just as strong as the men. The male characters seem to revolve around her, and although at times they move close to knights in shining armour, Cardinale never plays Jill as weak or vulnerable. Just as Harmonica, Frank and Cheyenne represent the Old West, Jill signifies a modern, 20^th century America. She is burdened with the responsibilities of independence and technology, and is flung onto the brink of new civilisation. But she faces up to the task, and while the men reluctantly accept their fate and lose their place in the new world, Jill embraces it with her head held high. With complex cowboys and the first true heroine, the western genre is opened up and given a wider, somehow more mature, plain on which to roam.

And yet, for all it did to help the western, it has to be said that the film is responsible for killing a few cowboys itself. Dead were the heroes of John Wayne and Gary Cooper, puffing their chests and spouting lines about being a man in the name of America. After Henry Fonda has killed an infant, how could things be the same? Post-Leone cowboys were the bleak anti-heroes of Clint Eastwood and Sam Peckinpah – with a major emphasis on atmosphere over narrative. And although ultimately the spaceman replaced the cowboy, Leone’s influence is still felt today. The brutality and grittiness is present in David Milch’s foul-mouthed frontier-based TV series ‘Deadwood’, while the liberal use of violence and irresistible cowboy style (surely it’s only a matter of time before brown dusters come back into fashion) have been transferred to more colourful, futuristic TV shows such as ‘Cowboy Bebop’, ‘Samurai Jack’ and Joss Whedon’s ‘Firefly’. Cinema, meanwhile, has taken a quieter turn into the new century – new westerns are more reflective, almost bullet-less genre essays such as ‘Brokeback Mountain’ and ‘The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada’. These, too, it could be argued, only exist as they do because of ‘Once Upon A Time in the West’. Their pensive filming style and meandering pace – not to mention lush, location-heavy cinematography – often look as if lifted straight out of Leone’s west.

‘Once Upon A Time in the West’ is undoubtedly a classic – a master class in how to make a film truly effective. As if the countless pop culture references and tributes weren’t proof enough of its staying power, the film frequently appears in ‘Top 50’ lists, and is widely considered – alongside John Ford’s drastically different ‘The Searchers’ – to be the greatest western ever made. It is refreshing for a post-Tarantino audience to still admire film that treats the subject of violence so gracefully, and with such little self-referential irony. In its absolute conviction in itself and its inimitable style, ‘Once Upon A Time in the West’ signalled a significant change in the genre – this is the peak of the Spaghetti Western, the peak of Leone, one of the peaks of the Sixties – simply put, this is the best that cowboys ever got.

How the West Was Won: Part 1

2007-06-18T11:57:00.000-07:00

Here's an article called How the West Was Won that I wrote last year for my college's short-lived film fanzine. It's on one of my favourite films, therefore it's pretty hefty, so I'm bringing it in two parts.

Three blank-faced men approach a train station somewhere in the Arizona desert. They stroll past the clerk, not sparing a word for him or each other. They simply wait – one cracks his knuckles by the railway, another fills his hat with leaking water, and the third shoos away a fly from his face. As the train rattles towards them, they take their places, guns cocked, on the wooden platform. For over ten minutes, nothing happens. What should be dead space is in fact the now-legendary opening to one of the most atmospheric films ever made – Sergio Leone’s ‘Once Upon A Time in the West’. The sequence ends with all three men dead, after a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shootout with Charles Bronson’s enigmatic hero, Harmonica. We then cut to a family living in anticipation of the arrival of a new mother. The preparations are cut short, however, when the entire family – including a pre-pubescent boy – are killed in cold blood.

If the trite plot and rising body count make this sound like another Hollywood actioner with video game sensibilities, don’t be put off. Leone directs the entire film with such exquisite style that it’s impossible not to be drawn in. Everything about ‘Once Upon A Time in the West’ seems to have been crafted together with such technical precision that it’s hard to believe Leone never spoke a word of English to his cast and crew. Each frame of the film is instantly iconic, be it the breathtaking desert locations, the hugely memorable score, or Henry Fonda’s against-type casting as the villainous Frank (think Tom Hanks playing Tony Montana and you’re halfway there). Most agree that this is Leone’s masterpiece – more poignant than his ‘Dollars’ trilogy, yet not as exhaustingly complex as his later ‘Once Upon A Time in America’. Here, Leone has taken a simple story (written along with fellow Italian auteurs Dario Argento and Bernardo Bertolucci) and injected it with an irresistible grace – his camera frames everything with an eerie knowing eye, juxtaposing vast shots of an expansive landscape to impossibly close zooms into his characters’ faces.

Complementing Leone’s distinctive visual style is Ennio Morricone’s music. The partnership between Leone and Morricone is one of the most popular and successful in cinema history – it spanned for most of Leone’s career, and the score for ‘Once Upon A Time in the West’ remains one of Morricone’s best. What makes the music so effective is the use of four different themes for each of the four main characters – emphasising the conflict between them, and the film’s theme of conflicting cultures. Jill McBain has a sweeping, romantic string piece to signify her role as hope in a dying world, Cheyenne has an ambling, playful whistle, Frank has a chilling electric guitar, and Harmonica has the ominous, sustained notes of his namesake. Leone once claimed that ‘music is forty percent of a film’ – and the union between film and music here proves that he truly believed this. Morricone in fact scored the film before anything was filmed – in this way, Leone directed the film around the music, which helps to explain the film’s unique power in atmosphere and mood.

‘Once Upon A Time in the West’ takes its time with getting where it’s going; the playful editing of the opening sequence sets a pace that mimics that of a dying man – filled with tense pauses, slow movements and sudden bursts of violent energy (not to mention a noticeable lack of music – instead, a rhythm is created through amplified diegetic sounds). Amazingly, although the film is over two and a half hours long, there are only fifteen pages of dialogue. Characters and events are determined through looks and actions (the film was once described as ‘an opera of stares’). The narrative never feels rushed or forced as it does in previous westerns; the characters are simply, in some way or another, living until they die. Indeed, if the film is about anything, then it must be, as Jason Robards’ outlaw Cheyenne observes, ‘something to do with death’. Death visits the film in all its forms – violent and sudden, treacherous, cold-blooded, slow and inevitable – it serves as punishment or release to several different characters throughout the film. There are many who claim that Charles’ Bronson’s Harmonica is in fact the spirit of death, and not a human being at all. There is much to support this – his entrances into scenes all include the same ominous sweep into the frame, and for all his screen time, his secret purpose ultimately manifests itself as one brutal act of revenge. Educationalist Sir Christopher Frayling points out that Harmonica’s guidance of the camera and his mysterious movements around the rest of the film suggest that he has a supernatural power over time and space.

No salt

2007-06-14T14:22:00.000-07:00

Nuts, I have decided, to the BBC.

Everyone loves them, and they don't deserve any sort of love.
Why? Because their programmes are BAD PROGRAMMES. They rip off other things according to what is popular and what will get most people saying "Ooh, that's good, isn't it?"
Unfortunately, those same people would also spend real money on Vernon Kay's autobiography.

First of all: Doctor Frickin' Who.
Doctor Who is a great theme tune, let down by a shamefully bad show.
It's a shame, really. For many a saturday night I've sat myself down in front of the TV and I've really wanted to enjoy it. Time travel, aliens, robots - all signifiers of something that should have some sort of value. But within minutes it's all ruined by the writers reminding us of how witty and self-referential they are.
Case in point: one episode was set on a spaceship that was flying too close to the sun, putting the crew and the ship into danger. Sound like a good plot? Yeah, well, that's because it was stolen from Sunshine, which just happened to have been released two weeks prior, and was very popular.

As if this weren't shameful enough, it was ruined by a string of pointless, clumsy, off-putting pop culture references. Any chance at tension or credibility in the narrative was ruined.

The fact that both Peter Kay and Catherine Tate guest-starred says just about everything. This is crowd-pleasing, pandering junk, that thinks of itself as very clever and assumes that you agree.

Doctor Who isn't the only bad thing about the BBC, however. Another popular show, Hustle, is just as sickeningly smug. Now, I used to enjoy Hustle quite a lot. Yes, it's always been smug, but it was also just good enough to enjoy without cringing too much.
But, as the budget got bigger so did the producers' heads, and it's all gone wrong. The last episode of the latest series featured the gang of cons do a revenge job on a casino owner in Las Vegas after he attacked the oldest member, Albert. Sound familiar?
Yeah, well, that's because this plot was stolen from Ocean's Thirteen, which came out within the same week and was also very popular.
Robert Vaughn was even wearing Elliot Gould's glasses, for goodness sake.
Hustle has always stolen its ideas and techniques, but this cashing in on popular trends is just pants.

The problem is this obvious, adolescent BBC idea of 'cool', that can also be seen in Torchwood and Robin Hood.
People who rebel are cool! They don't wear suits or work for 'The Man'! They may have an attitude problem, but they always do the RIGHT THING!
They will probably be Cockney and/or attractive!
Clichés are...cool?
You're getting bored, you say? Uh...look, it's something you recognise from that film you watched and never really decided if you liked!
...Have some merchandise!

Anyway, this rant is over, because it's taken a ridiculously long time to write, thanks to the combined efforts of my illness and YouTube.

RIP Cinephilia

2007-06-08T14:22:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I payed my respects to Cinephilia - my local video store, and probably the greatest video store in the country, which has now closed.
For over two years I used it as a reliable source of the good, the bad and the totally freaking insane. And everything else. Seriously, everything.
So for my first rental (In the Mood For Love) to my last (El Topo) and everything in between, goodbye Cinephilia.

I'm now pretty scared about what comes next. I don't know what I'm going to do in terms of getting films. I'm settling for Birmingham Central Library at the moment, but it just doesn't compare.

Another reason to be sad is that the BBC's Blast event, which looks like a wonderful and brilliant set of workshops, has been placed on the dates of my exams. And, probably, the exams of a lot of teenagers nationwide. I guess the BBC forgot that THE WHOLE THING IS AIMED SPECIFICALLY AT TEENAGERS. Anyway, if you can make it, please do, it looks great.

But it's not all bad! I'm now the proud owner of a new (old) TV, much bigger and better than my other one. Now I can waste ALL of my revision time watching Deadwood again, on a bigger screen.

Music TV Part 2: Music TV piped bees into my hotel room

2007-06-06T14:02:00.000-07:00

So we all know why Music TV is an amazing thing.
And if you don't, scroll down a while and find out.

But really, is it?
No, don't answer. Although it may be good, it-
No, I said don't answer-
You can't-
No, I know, it was a rhetorical question-
I was just-
I-
It-
SHUT UP AND LET ME TALK!

Music television is rubbish and horrible.
Y'know why? STEREOTYPES, my friend.
Look at 50 Cent's videos. They present - nay, glorifiy - the image of young black men as criminals. The same goes for a lot of mainstream hip-hop, in fact. And countless music videos objectify women, in ridiculous ways. To such an extent, in fact, that often the music is just an excuse for some bad porn.
Whether we may realise it or not, the more exposure these videos get the more these stereotypes are reinforced...leading to us all seeing women as sexual objects and black men as criminals (and black men seeing themselves as criminals).

And REALLY the only thing that television does to the industry is harm it.
It makes some people get really successful, yeah, but the wrong people.
Shows like The X Factor and Pop Idol give instant global popularity and wealth to people based almost entirely on their image and attitude, with little or no attention on music skill.
Imagine how demoralising and harmful this is to bands and musicians who may have honed their talent for years, and spent those same years trying to break into the industry. To see Gareth Gates sleeping on a bed of pound coins is just a bit poo. Even if pound coins are a rubbish bed.

...

AND OH YEAH remember how I said that music video is an art form? Complete with visionary directors who enable to band to exert their creativity?
Yeah, well, Westlife called, turns out I was wrong. Then Busted, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera called, but they made the same point, so I just hung up on them.
Their videos are about selling them as a brand, according to the current trend or just to make them look good.
No one is watching the video for 'Dirty' and thinking 'My, what a talented girl.' Unless you're being ironic. In your own mind. Weirdy.

The Rolling Stones

Anyway, Music TV is good because of VVVV and bad because of ^^^^.

The End.

I can't believe I'm passing this off as revision.

Watch HBO

2007-06-03T13:55:00.000-07:00

So I finally finished watching the first series of Heroes, and even though it was all a bit abrupt considering the apocalyptic tone of the rest of the series, it was pretty good.
So what next, I wonder?
Well, as well as a second series, also greenlit is Heroes: Origins, a spin-off mini-series. Six episodes are planned, with a new character introduced each episode. Sounds alright, right? Wrong.
At the end of this mini-series, the public will vote for which character they want to appear in series 2.
THIS MAKES ME ANGRY.

Why has all TV turned into a gameshow or phone-in? Are the writers so afraid and without confidence that they can't do the writing themselves? Why not just create a show the way you want it, and then let the audience make of it what they will? Even better, why not write something that came from your own head? This test screening initiative has existed for years, but this is ridiculous. Programmes like Heroes should exist so that we DON'T have to watch crap like Big Brother.

NBC are pandering to their audience a bit too much. I'm hoping it is them forcing it, and not the writers. It's still okay to hate networks.

Except HBO.

HBO rule.

Interlude

2007-06-01T15:07:00.001-07:00

Guess who's popped up in Heroes!

I sincerely hope this means a long-overdue Maclcolm McDowell revival.

Viddy well, brothers...

Music TV Part 1: Music TV saved my life

2007-05-18T09:55:00.000-07:00

I have an exam coming up that includes debate about music television, so for the sake of revision (and of course for your curious eyes) here's some thought-provoking opinion.

So, music television came into its own in the 80s, back when MTV had music. Since then, it's grown into a whole load of genres, and too many channels.
But is it a fundamentally good or bad thing? Does it help the music industry, or is it just plain destructive and rubbish?
What's that?
Well, of course the answer is both. Don't be so stupid.
But here's why Music TV is brilliant.

Music TV is brilliant, definitely. Jools Holland has done a lot for the music industry, not only by showing that musicians actually have skill and talent to perform with their instruments, but also by showing us music and cultures that frankly we just wouldn't know about otherwise.
His show really emphasises the *music*ness of music...television in this example is just the medium through which to exhibit the music.

Music TV shows like this do a great service to the industry and the artists. You could see all the publicity material of David Bowie strutting his glammed-up stuff in an inch of make up and a thousand blinking lights...and then watch him perform 'Oh You Pretty Things' with nothing but a piano and a small band, and only then realise that he has a proper talent.

Of course, it's not only live shows which help musicians.
Music videos, as I'm sure you know, are wicked. The White Stripes, Bjork and Fatboy Slim wouldn't have such a widely loved cult without their music videos. The visuals help the music through a harmonious symbiosis, like saying "Isn't this song great?! Yeah! And check out all this cool stuff!":

And music videos are an art in their own right. Spike Jonze, Michel Gondry and Jonathan Glazer are the most sought-after and cool directors around, and it's because they started in the music video genre, which is unique in its scope for originality and experimentality.

Also, music videos give sub-cultures a voice. The Streets' videos show a humorous, honest portrayal of young male lad pub culture, while some of Fatboy Slim's videos show the pure absurdity of rave culture and why dancing is so very good.
These sub-cultures are under-represented, and music videos are the perfect way to inform us about them, simply because they're so imaginative.

Coming soon: the negative side.

Fun Fact: in the book, the words 'Blade Runner' are never used.

2007-05-11T09:07:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I finished reading Philip K. Dick's 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?' and liked it a lot, so I re-watched the film adaptation, Blade Runner (The Director's Cut).

What a film.
Golly gosh. The visuals are just incredible. It's the perfect marriage of the imagination and scope of sci-fi and the sinister stylisation of film noir, giving everything a gritty-yet-fantastical look. In every frame there's something to be impressed with, and as a vision of the future it's probably unparalleled. In fact, if we reach 2019 and it doesn't look EXACTLY like it does in that film, I'll be disappointed. I'll probably be more relieved, as it would mean that Earth isn't slowly dying under a cloud of post-WW3 dust, killing most living animals and forcing the majority of the population to migrate to Mars.
Still...how many films can you say look like this:

or this:

That's right: not enough.
And oh yeah, those images are from TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO. The Lord of The Rings has dated more than that.

Along with the visuals, the soundtrack (by Vangelis) is just fantastic. If anyone ever criticises 80s music again, play them the Blade Runner soundtrack and watch them quiver in wrong-ness.

You could claim it as an exercise in style over substance, but when the atmosphere is this powerful then the style is the substance.

Basically, if you ever liked The Fifth Element, Cowboy Bebop, Deus Ex, Akira, Batman, Brazil, Firefly, Samurai Jack, The Matrix, Max Payne, Minority Report or The Terminator... you owe it to Blade Runner.

Doin' it

2007-05-03T12:30:00.000-07:00

So, I was going to do a big interesting, in-depth and incredible blog about Spike Lee and how important he is.
But after watching a few of his films I've realised that none of them can compare to the awesome power that is Do The Right Thing.
So instead, here's clip from it, one of my favourite films.

This Is England, but only if you're a grown-up

2007-04-28T03:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Shane Meadow's latest This Is England was released, and please go to see it. It's brilliant.

The one thing wrong with it is that it's rated certificate 18 by the BBFC, which several people are strongly opposed to. These people include me, Mark Kermode and Shane Meadows himself. The film contains a lot of swearing and a bit of violence, yes, but definitely no more than the 15-rated Shaun of the Dead. What the BBFC are worried about are the racial swear words used frequently throughout the film, and how they might be misinterpreted by a younger audience.

And this irks me. The thing which I liked most about This Is England is its challenging portrayal of racism - it neither glorified it or shyed away from the allure of it for people without a community. It takes a neo-Nazi character and turns him into a complex, difficult character, who is brutal, caring, vulnerable, hateful and pathetic all at once. The BBFC are probably worried that anyone younger than 18 won't understand these complicated issues and simply hear the racism and latch onto that.

Okay, I turned 18 3 months ago after watching films commissioned by the BBFC for the majority of my life. So, to my surprise, I didn't suddenly become more intelligent and manly overnight. Okay, most 18 year olds are more mature than most 15 year olds, but to suggest that 15 year olds are so blindly succeptible that they can't understand an exploration of racist behaviour is just patronising. As well as being intellectually challenging, the film has a weighty emtional punch as well - but if this is the BBFC's reasoning, then they're suggesting that no one reaches emotional maturity until they're an adult.

This film isn't for kids. In fact, one of the first things I thought after walking out of the cinema was 'I wouldn't show that to my pre-teen kid' - and that's something I rarely think. But the film IS for teenagers, as well as being about teenagers and from the perspective of teenagers. Meadows captures youth culture incredibly well, and I throughout the film I was struck by the realism and believability of the characters. This just makes the fact that it's censored so much worse. If I saw this film 3 months ago, or 3 years ago, I wouldn't have turned into a racist skinhead because it looked like fun in the film. The purpose of this film is to challenge a 2007 audience in what skinhead culture means to them; it explores the motivations behind racism instead of simply condemning it.

I have to say, thank goodness for Bristol, where the film IS being shown with a 15 certificate. Damn the man, etc.

If you're still a minor and you want to see this film, go to your local Cineworld, where it's generally quite easy to sneak into a screen.

Sci-five

2007-04-23T14:25:00.000-07:00

Oh man, that's a good pun right there.

Time to quickly run down some sci-fi films I saw recently, my sci-fi phase arriving slightly before Film4's, which was a bit annoying (although both were prompted by the first film on the list).

Sunshine: This is a great film. Yes, the ending is a bit rubbish and abrupt, but up until that it's amazing visuals and brilliant music all the way. Considering it's such a ridiculous concept, all of the action is entirely convincing, and it delivers completely for any nerds wanting glory shots of the sun and spaceships and the sun in front of spaceships. It just gives a view of space that is both pleasing and intriguing, combining 2001 intrigue with Alien convictions.

Solaris: The Steven Soderbergh one. This one really surprised me, mostly because all of the marketing was pictures of a spaceship or George Clooney in a really awesome spacesuit - in fact, this is pretty much just a love story in space. I still really liked it, however, because the atmosphere was both sinister and tranquil - quite a unique film. Right after watching this, I read the book, which is pretty amazing.

Alien: The Director's Cut: The production design, the realism, the pant-messing...yes, we all love Alien. But you know what I loved most about it this time? Ian Holm. That dude can act. But with Harry Dean Stanton and John Hurt along too, the cast couldn't really fail. A simple idea, portraying space as just as rubbish as Earth.

Cypher: This was a pretty enjoyable mystery-sci-fi, that set up an interesting concept, got a bit confused halfway through and then made a complete balls-up of the ending. For the most part, it was stylish and fast-paced enough to maintain interest, but it all got a bit silly.

The Thing: Okay, more of a horror than a sci-fi, and a very effective horror at that. The special effects still hold up today purely becuase of the gag reflex, and it never tries to be something it's not. A brilliant sci-fi creature feature, again not afraid of giving us a grim atmosphere and just killing everybody in nasty ways.

So there it is. It got me thinking - just how do you define sci-fi? If the science is what's important, can The Day After Tomorrow be considered more sci-fi than Star Wars? Isn't the nature of science to contrast with fiction directly? Is science just an excuse that writers use to make the impossible happen, therefore going straight against science?
Anyhow, I like space. I think there should be more than a few elite films that are 'good' space films. As much as real-life space travel both excites and guilt-trips me out, it's nice to see it on screen where we really can fly into the Sun.

In the Cannes

2007-04-19T10:05:00.000-07:00

I really have to stop those puns.
Jesus.

It was revealed today that the opening night film for this year's Cannes film festival will be Wong Kar-Wai's latest, My Blueberry Nights.
Before I go into any more depth, let's identify Wong for a second:

Wong Kar-Wai is one of my favourite, if not my absolute favourite, filmmakers working today. His films are consistently and reliably brilliant in a very original way. When you first watch one of his films, you think 'Gosh, that's stylish!' and you can just get caught up in the style and technique without even considering the plot (although they're very slight in his films). This is largely due to Christopher Doyle, his frequent collaborator and amazing cinematographer.

It's easy to think that the incredible atmosphere and mood conveyed in his films are enough to justify his status as a genius auteur, but you can tell, as one reviewer put it, that his films are so obviously about something. Wong explores themes of memory, time, identity, alienation, loneliness, love and sex - all the good stuff. Whether his ideas are universal or specific to his native Hong Kong, he always conveys them in a style that is at once accomplished and entirely unique. If you're new to him, I recommend Chungking Express, although In the Mood for Love is my personal favourite, simply because it's possibly the most watchable, seductive and atmospheric thing to ever grace a screen. Heck, even this blog site is named after one of his films.

All in all, I love Wong Kar-Wai. There we go.
Anyway, back to My Blueberry Nights.
This is how the film is being summarised:

"The Norah Jones road movie.

With Jude Law.
And Rachel Weisz."

That's right, like so many promising Chinese filmmakers, Wong Kar-Wai has gone all English language on us. And chosen to feature Norah Jones in her film debut. As I understand it, the plot goes something like 'Norah Jones goes on a road trip across America, looking for love and some blueberry pie.'
Yeah. The word WTF comes to mind.

Now, I'm not too well-versed on the acting talent of Hong Kong and China, but I'm pretty sure that they can't all be of the same excellent calibre as Tony Leung, Faye Wong, Leslie Cheung, Andy Lau or Maggie Cheung - all of whom Wong has worked with previously.
And now? Jude Law.
Jude. Law.

I'm not abandoning my hopes just yet - Jude Law was actually fairly good in I Heart Huckabee's, and maybe...Norah Jones...will...be good?
Okay, so I'm worried. Chris Doyle isn't even on board, for goodness' sake.

But let's have faith.

In other Chinese film news, Curse of the Golden Flower is not worth seeing. I seem to have a problem with period melodramas, unless they're American or Japanese. But Zhang Yimou just re-hashes exactly what he did with Hero and House of Flying Daggers, except with a different colour scheme and a more boring plot. The visual excess is oppressive, the plot ridiculous, and Chow Yun Fat is in it but doesn't kick any ass until the end.

Hopefully there are some good Chinese directors left.

Gangsters Night

2007-04-15T11:20:00.000-07:00

Gangsters is a cult crime drama that was made in Birmingham in the Seventies.
Recently, thanks to 7 Inch Cinema, I watched both series back-to-back through Saturday night to Sunday morning, as part of their Gangsters Night.
Watching 11 hours of a TV show through the night in an abandoned warehouse in Digbeth and having only cake to eat is the kind of thing that should come with a health warning.
Also, it's not the most suitable substitute for sleep. But you probably already knew that.
As for the show itself, it's a cracker.
It started as a 'Play for Today' on the BBC, which effectively acted as the pilot for the series. This installment was a gritty, fairly realistic crime show which recalled Get Carter and The Long Good Friday. It follows John Kline, recently out of prison and the assassination target for just about every other character in the multicultural mileu.
The rest of the first series follows in much the same way, with every episode following the basic structure of Kline looks moody-someone tries to kill him-Kline gets away. One thing I was particularly impressed with was that not once (and I saw the whole series, so I can't exaggerate) did the music on the soundtrack correspond to what was on screen.
Woman in a phone box? Epic church organ music.
Man at a train station? Guitar/synth chase music.
Gangsters brutally trying to kill people in a house? Comedy polka.
The consistency of this unconsistency was remarkable.
So far, so cheesy and dated.
But it gets better.
The second series didn't make a jot of sense. My guess is they were commissioned for another series, couldn't believe their luck, and though "Hey, let's have some fun."
It just grew increasingly bizarre and surreal, and I'll just say that by the end of the series Gangsters had successfuly incorporated elements of crime, bollywood, porno, kicthen-sink drama, musical, kung-fu, comedy, slapstick, western, horror and post-modern self-referential writing (the writer of the series appeared occasionally, both as himself and various characters).
Frankly, I admire a programme that has the nerve to keep its options open to such an extent. I can honestly say that I never knew what was going to happen next.
Casual racial slur? Spaghetti Western striptease? Live folk performance?
It also has to be a contender for 'Worst kung-fu training montage of all time', basically featuring the resident martial arse expert 'Red Stick' running a bit and then hitting a tree.
All in all, I'm glad I sacrificed my state of health and mind to watch Gangsters. I couldn't stay until the very, very end, but 13 hours is time enough to spend in a warehouse.
Also at the evening were Birmingham band Pram, who provided some excellent accompanying music of the 70s variety.
Big well done and thank you to 7 inch cinema, for making the warehouse look as seedy as possible and all the rest.

The Greatest Faces of Film and Television Part 2: The Women

2007-04-08T03:50:00.000-07:00

I have a dream...

2007-04-07T08:37:00.000-07:00

This dream sees the end to rubbish dream sequences.
They're tricky. And too often botched beyond any reason. It's nigh-on impossible to try and portray a dream on film, and the only times it's been done well is when the filmmakers don't try really hard to portray a dream on film.
I'm not against dream sequences in general - The Big Lebowski and Buffy feature some hum-dingers - but the majority just seem like an excuse for the director to really exercise their artistic talents. Visual metaphors! Strange dialogue! People looking all serious and stuff! Restricting creative filmmaking to dreams makes its appearance all the more rubbish.
For example, Summer of Sam - a very, very good film with a lot of style and convincing character portrayal. The film's serial killer, Son of Sam, is featured in several creepy Se7en-style scenes that are disturbing and doom-laden. All of this is almost completely ruined, however, when in one scene a dog walks up to the killer and says 'Kill. Kill! Kill them all!'.
The effect is laughable, unsubtle and annoying.
On the other hand, look at someone like David Lynch: in many of his films, there is generally always something vaguely dreamlike or disturbing about every one of his shots. So, we don't need to be told that a character is dreaming and have a load of obtuse cues to try and convey information about the film; he makes his films that way anyway.
But the worst crime against dream sequences is the one that's most committed; characters learning vital plot information in a dream. WHY?! This is lazy writing and it is inexplicable but constantly gotten away with because 'oh, it was done so cool like'.
Dreams are not places that tell you about the location of the bomb or the villain's weakness - they're places for implausibly attractive people and tiny men with fruit for heads.
You try writing down information from dreams. Try it, and I promise you that the only thing you will learn is
'REMEMBER THE SWEDISH MAN! DEFEND THE CHEESE OR KOALAS WILL SURELY FAIL!'

In other news, Meet The Robinsons is being screened with the 1938 Mickey Mouse short Boat Builders - this is very good news, as Meet The Robinsons is another bog-standard CGI film so it's good that children get to see where animation came from, when the fact that films didn't make sense was the point.
As for Meet The Robinsons itself, it's unnecessarily complicated and quite boring. But it does have a T-Rex fighting a Giant Squid, which is nice, because despite what John Patterson says most films would be improved with the presence of Dinosaurs.

days of being mild proudly presents: The Greatest Faces of Film and Television Part 1: The Men

2007-04-03T04:05:00.000-07:00

I need a Hero(es)

2007-03-29T11:21:00.000-07:00

So I'm now five episodes into Heroes and it is AWESOME.

The plot never fails to surprise you every single episode, not in a lame Lost way of 'hey, let's throw in another nonsensical thing that we'll never actually explain but pretend that we will so everyone will keep watching!' kind of way, but in a properly tense way.

There are a whole load of different plot threads, but they're all credible, and while the characters are meeting each other in less-than-credible ways, it's very easy to get sucked into the drama while appreciating the show's originality.

Also, the soundtrack is very good. The music doesn't distract from anything but really creates a strange atmosphere at points. And Nora Zehetner from Brick is in it. She's actually a bit annoying. But it's nice to see her pretty face.

I hate to keep comparing Heroes to Lost, but it's inevitable as they're both high-budget multi-character mystery shows...and Heroes is better. It takes some of the stupid stuff that might have been in Lost, like at point a guy appears saying "I'm from the future...I have a message for you.", but it's all completely part of the action and every revelation is maintained instead of ignored so that the audience is both informed and in suspense.

It's good stuff. Very good. I just hope it can keep delivering.

In other news: you know what's annoying? Watching Snakes On A Plane with a bunch of people who haven't seen it, months after all the 'Goats on a Boat' jokes stopped being funny.

Grr.

Let's just calm down for a moment, shall we?

2007-03-28T12:15:00.000-07:00

Okay, so far this blog hasn't exactly been concerned with the most sophisticated end of television and cinema. It's mostly been cartoons and whatever's out on general release.
Don't think I haven't noticed this. I have. So, in consideration for you, my readers, in search of some cultural brain-food, I did some proper film-watching this week.

Weekend At Bernie's

If you ever need proof (and you shouldn't) that the 80s weren't sexy, this is the film for you. The shapes, the colours, the music, the values, it was all wrong. Anyway, the film.
The plot is water-tight. Two office workers, Richard (the stressy one) and Larry (the goofy one) stumble upon a flaw in their company's accounts, suggesting corruption. They take it to their boss, Bernie, who is understandably impressed and invites them to his house for the weekend. The guys are overjoyed, consumed with a mixture of 80s greed and what seems like a wild sexual attraction to Bernie. Anyway, one thing leads to another and Bernie ends up dead. Of course, Larry and Richard want to party, so they pretend that Bernie is alive. With "hilarious results".

It seems pointless to highlight any flaws in this film, because you get the feeling that no one involved in the making of it would care. It did make me chuckle a couple of times, but my main argument with it is that it's so dated. And I just don't like the 80s. I'm sorry. I know I'm meant to, but I just don't.
If you like films such as Baseketball, The Whole Nine Yards, Office Space, etc. You might get a kick out of this.
But Some Like It Hot it ain't.

"Gee Joel, seems like an awfully elaborate way to point out how you're not watching any proper films."
"Shut up, the blog's not finished yet."

I Live In Fear

Apparently Akira Kurosawa said that he was proud of this film above all of his others...it doesn't quite match up to Seven Samurai or Stray Dog, but it's still pretty amazing.
It's the story of a post-war Japanese family trying to section the patriarch father when he tries to move them to Brazil, in fear of nuclear war.
I always tend to watch Kurosawa films when I'm tired, which is a habit I have to break, but this one kept me awake and alert the whole time, even though nothing really happened.

There are moments of visual and emotional beauty on display here, especially when the father cradles his newborn grandchild in a moment of irrational fear and the downbeat ending. The pacing is brilliant, and Kurosawa makes people sitting down and having a chat surprisingly tense.
The characters are all flawed but sympathetic, and the central character of the father is a very complex representation of post-war Japan; steeped in fear of the H-bomb, but also making us doubt his sanity on the issue.
If you've never seen a Kurosawa film, please start. I wouldn't suggest watching this one first, but it's worth a look at some point.

Now back to my cartoons.

Dark Nights

2007-03-26T11:01:00.000-07:00

Today I saw 10 rabbits. And a fox. Nothing bloody happened, don't worry.

I also watched some of Batman: The Animated Series. I think it might just be the best Batman screen adaptation ever; it seems to get the tone just right.
Batman Begins is very, very good, but I seemed bogged down by having too much of a story to tell. So I've got very high hopes for The Dark Knight, even if Aaron Eckhart is playing Harvey Dent. He'll be even less charismatic than Katie Holmes.
But the buzz around it sounds good. Heath Ledger's inspiration point for playing the Joker is The Killing Joke by Alan Moore, which is great and dark and sinister. Should be better than Jack Nicholson's wacky portrayal.
There's something about old Bats that I just find appealing. I can even sit through Batman & Robin. Sometimes. Okay, well, maybe not, but I do like most of the things associated with him. Hell, I even like Batman of the Future. Yes, yes I do. I actually think it's very good. Yeah. Screw you.
The Animated Series got the right balance of noir chic and ripping yarn, where it's been botched in the past by trying to be either too moody or just shit.

Also, last night I finally watched the first episode of Heroes, after being badgered by many a peer. I wanted to watch it when it premiered, but alas my freeview box does not provide Sci-Fi. Luckily, Heroes is actually pretty damn good. I can't say too much right now because I'm only one episode in, but as first episodes go it's a hell of a lot better than Lost.
Don't even try to make a case for Lost. It's bad and you know it.
More on Heroes as it comes.

Fincher than you

2007-03-24T04:39:00.000-07:00

So I just watched the trailer for David Fincher's Zodiac - I'm pretty hyped up about it.
Strangely, the trailer says 'From the director of Se7en and Panic Room' with no mention of the much more popular Fight Club; but this tells you what kind of film it's gonna be, and I think this is a good thing.
It looks good - nice cast, interesting real-life premise, and it's Fincher so you're covered as far as cinematography goes.
But it won't be as good as Se7en. There is very little that is as good as Se7en. Yes, including Fight Club.
But, Robert Downey Jr. with a '70s look and Brian Cox - I'm looking forward to it with joy.

Also, I just looked at the Empire website for the first time in a long, long time - they have an article called 'David Lynch's Inland Empire explained!'.
This is why I don't go to the Empire website anymore.
The article just sums up Inland Empire - the least-sum-up-able film ever made - in a few paragraphs and literally says 'So, yeah, basically, it's all about this.'
Whoa, that just reminded me, I think I had a dream last night that included the words 'Inland Empire'. Or maybe that was the film. It was more dreamlike than most of my dreams.
Anyway, the point is, Empire should stop trying to be cool and clever by completely negating the work of such an interesting director. I think I just feel strongly about this because it seems like Lynch's films shouldn't ever have any sort of concrete literal interpretation; just watch and be scared.

Turtle Soup

2007-03-23T15:38:00.000-07:00

Okay.

Bad stuff:
-Splinter looks like Basil Brush.
-Inexplicably bad quips ("They really don't die!")
-Not nearly enough Donatello.
-It doesn't make any sense.
-The baddie looks like Mr. Incredible but sounds like Captain Picard.
-IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE.
-Michaelangalo is still annoying. There. I said it.

Good stuff:
-Splinter is voiced by Aku from Samurai Jack.
-A fleeting Samurai vs. Ninja girlfight.
-A kitchen fight with a baby imp set to 'Black Betty'.
-Someone falls to their knees and screams "NO!" (when has this not been funny?)

So, no, it's not a good film. In fact, it's an insult to the characters and at times embarrassing. However, it's also very entertaining and by the time you notice something to complain about it's just disappeared into a bigger plot hole or a non-sensical action scene.

And yes, I realise that I just dedicated an entire blog to TMNT.
I'll watch some proper films soon, I promise.

flog tlog is go!

2007-03-23T10:29:00.000-07:00

It begins!
My official blog for all things film and telvision.
I'll generally be talking about stuff I'm into or have viewed lately, be it old or new.

First off, the other day I watched Studio Ghibli's Pom Poko (and it was a free rental on account of colourful St. Patrick's Day costumes) and it was awesome. Hayao Miyazaki may be one of the greatest people in the world; people say he's the Japanese Walt Disney, but he makes better films and instead of racism it's socialism. As long as he keeps making his no-plot-just-make-everything-awesome films, the world will be good.

On the TV side, there's another Japanese product - the animé series Samurai Champloo, which was created by Shinichiro Watanabe, the same guy who brought us the amazing show Cowboy Bebop, which I love like a little square-headed son.

Samurai Champloo is very similar to Cowboy Bebop, but instead of being set in futuristic space, it's set in ancient Edo Japan. The (loose) plot follows three characters in their search for a samurai who smells like sunflowers (I don't know why yet) - Mugen, a restless, carefree criminal, Jun, a reserved samurai, and Fuu, a young but indepedent girl. Despite being a period piece, Samurai Champloo doesn't exactly stick to the facts concerning history - but you don't really expect it to, what with the soundtrack comprising mainly of hip-hop.

However, Samurai Champloo does contain a lot of detail about Japanese culture, as opposed to Cowboy Bebop which was much more Westernised. Samurai Champloo is a great show, although for me it doesn't quite reach Bebop heights - but I am only six episodes in at the moment, and loving every second. A good way to describe the difference is to say that Samurai Champloo is to hip-hop what Cowboy Bebop is to jazz. I just prefer jazz.

In new releases, there's 300, which is considerably less Japanese but with just as much disregard for historical accuracy. It's also the gayest movie since Top Gun. And not very good. But if you like that sort of thing, you'll love it.

Out.