Gua Sha - The Treatment (2001)

Life is full of surprises. I religiously scour the German television schedules (which I receive by satellite) for oddities, particularly on the German/French arts channel Arte. I have found most of my silent collection there; for example, last week they showed a 2007 restoration of Intolerance (1916) and their selection of unusual cinema is matchless. The only problem with them (and all of the other German channels) is their propensity for overdubbing rather than relying on subtitles.



I noticed the above Taiwanese film in the afternoon schedules and didn't bother to check it out; I just noted that it was starring Tony Leung and I assumed it would be something pretty special. Well for a start it wasn't the Tony Leung of the recent Wong Kar Wai and Ang Lee films but the actor of the same name who starred in "The Lover" (1992), who is also a fine actor but not the one I was expecting. The next surprise is that this was a modern-day drama, set and filmed in St. Louis, Missouri and written primarily in English, which led to the very pleasant surprise that the movie was not dubbed but used German subtitles for the dialogue which switched between English and Mandarin (and I was able to cope with these for the brief non-English dialogue).



But enough about the background: the final surprise was how involving the story was. Leung plays a prize-winning computer game designer, who, together with his equally intelligent wife and US-born 6-year son, is trying to assimilate into the American life style and the American dream. He has brought over his non-English-speaking father from the mainland and hopes to obtain a green card for him. When the child falls at home and is taken to hospital for stitches, the doctors note the extreme bruising on his back and conclude that he has been abused; and the do-gooder social workers immediately remove the cosseted child from his home and very loving parents. All attempts to explain that the bruising is the result of an ancient Chinese health treatment known as Gua Sha -- and in fact administered by the grandfather -- do not impress the ignorant court and they deem the child permanently at risk. The Child Services lawyer takes pleasure in presenting the father as a violent man -- based on the kind of games he designs -- and provokes him into losing his temper in court which hardly helps his case. I don't want to go on to explain how this situation develops and how it resolves itself, even if the film does not appear to be on DVD at present, as the possible spoilers are many. I will just mention that the penultimate scenes involve Leung in a Santa Claus suit climbing up the drainpipe to the family's ninth floor apartment with a toy monkey in his arm -- real heart in your throat action. I could do with a lot more surprises like this one.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

I was pleased indeed to obtain tickets for the preview of this film which opens here soon, since the concept is more than a little intriguing and the movie has been nominated for 13 Academy Awards. I will stick my neck out up front and predict that it will not win any of the major prizes -- best film, best director (David Fincher), best actor (Brad Pitt), or best supporting actress, but I would expect it to do well in the various technical categories. Whether or not it wins best screenplay from a previously published source remains to be seen, since this film manages to expand into nearly three hours with a far wider timescale and focus than the very, very short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, written as a bedtime fantasy for his young daughter.

The film is very good and certainly worth seeing, but it is not without its flaws, primarily its very leisurely approach and the extra long framing device of Cate Blanchett dying in hospital as Hurricaine Katrina approaches New Orleans and very slowly relaying Benjamin's story to her daughter. First criticism: she may be dying but this is no excuse for her dialogue to be mumbled and barely intelligible. Against this, Blanchett is fine as Pitt's lifelong love Daisy from her prima ballerina days through her older persona. There is also a second pair of bookends about a blind clockmaker who builds a clock that runs backwards, which while very interesting is actually unrelated to the story here, although a nice counterpoint. As probably everyone now knows the story follows Pitt's character from the time he is born as a wizened old-man baby; it chronicles his growth backwards, through middle age and youth until he finally regresses into infancy. The special effects which allow Pitt to play all of these parts (other than the late childhood ones) are seamlessly done and certainly will deserve Academy recognition.

This film does succeed, but I think on different levels than those intended. There is a lovely interlude when the elderly Pitt begins an affair in Russia with a bored and spoiled Tilda Swinton -- probably another embroidery on the Fitzgerald bare bones; how this story finishes itself many years later is nearly a throwaway thread, albeit a very satisfying one. However, despite the occasional misplaced humour (like the old geezer who keeps telling Pitt about the seven times he was struck by lightning), this is really a film about loss. It's not just the lost love of Pitt and Blanchett which can only fulfil itself in their middle years before she gets too old and he gets too young, but the loss of our various loved ones as their alloted time passes. There are an uncanny number of deaths in the film as it plays itself out and ultimately the movie is a sad one. It does not celebrate life so much as it reminds us that time and tide are our overriding masters, that we are ruled by incalculable and merciless circumstance.

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium (2007)

It is hard to believe that a movie about a magical toy store could escape being a magical viewing experience, but disappointingly, such was the case here. Screenwriter Zach Helm in his first outing as a director, brings an overly twee sensibility to the story and the character names that somehow defeats his presumably good intentions. One is left with a colourful and beautifully designed toystore set, perhaps overly busy at times, peopled by some rather unappealing (here) lead performers.

I have never been much of a Dustin Hoffman fan, although I have admired his acting chops in many of his films -- "Lenny" and "Tootsie" spring immediately to mind, but I must now conclude that he really can't play comedy without the intelligent viewer wanting to thump him. His eponymous title character, the 243-year old shopkeeper and inventer, is so-overplayed with what is meant to be ingratiating quirkiness that I felt like hiding my eyes in embarrassment. Natalie Portman as a stalled musical prodigy and Hoffman's protege gives an adequate but uninspired performance. Only Jason Bateman as an uninmaginative accountant brought in to sort out the business before Hoffman "goes away", i.e. dies, brings a sense of wonderment to his role. Hoffman says that the word accountant sounds like 'a counting mutant' and the continuous use of 'mutant' to address Bateman's character is a joke that wears thinner and thinner as the film goes on. I should also shed some praise on child actor Zach Mills, "the hat collector" of the cast-list, who bonds with Bateman and who helps him find his inner child. He reminded me of the young Lukas Haas and his enormous stick-out ears seemed unreal.

I could see children reacting positively to this movie if only because of the many wondrous toys on display, but I can't help thinking that the film misfired when it had the capability of being a truly remarkable 90-odd minutes.

4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (2007)

I had heard much praise for this Romanian Cannes Palme d'or winner, despite its unpromising subject matter (abortion), and since I really admired a previous Romanian downbeat outing -- The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (2005), I was hoping for some worthwhile viewing. Frankly, however, I can not see what all the fuss was about for this slight story with its non-cinematic presentation.



Originally titled "Tales from the Golden Age" and set in Ceausescu's Romania of the 1980s when abortion was a crime, it was probably intended as a satire on a time when life in the country was anything but 'golden' and focuses on the rather drab and unpromising society that it actually was. The tale concerns two girls, roommates at a technical college, and how they go about obtaining an illegal abortion. The one who is pregnant is the sort of selfish ninny that one felt like kicking and she over-relied on her more practical friend for the final organisation, having lied to the would-be abortionist (the ironically named Mr. Bebe) about how far gone she was -- although the actual timespan of the title was never worked out, having failed to secure the required hotel room, and also having omitted to find out how much it would cost. Come the day, the final price involved her friend having to submit to his sexual demands.



Meanwhile the practical one had to try to keep her own boyfriend happy by appearing at his mother's birthday celebrations out in the middle of nowhere and realised that her own humble background remained an obstacle to any long-term prospects. This rather extended scene with his family's friends rabbiting in the background while she looks bemused might have seemed irrelevant, but it helped the viewer to realise the depth of her worries both about herself and her friend whom she had left alone at the hotel. When she returns she finds her asleep with the aborted remains on the bathroom floor which, of course, her friend expects her to dispose of . When she returns from this sorry task there is no reply from the room, but she finds the cow in the dining room stuffing her face. This is where the film ends and leaves the viewer wondering whether selfless behaviour is ever its own reward and whether our heroine could expect any support from either her friend or her boyfriend were the situation reversed. OK, it was a vaguely interesting time capsule, but seriously not worth all the hoohah it generated. PING!

The House with Laughing Windows (1976)

I must confess that I have not seen anywhere near as many Italian movies from the 70s and 80s as I think I have, since I keep stumbling across previously-unviewed giallos -- so-called from the yellow dustjackets of thriller novels. I had vaguely heard of this film from director Pupi Avati (a minor horror director of that time) and probably remembered it because of its unusual title, but I had certainly not viewed it previously. Unfortunately, despite its fairly respectable cult reputation, it was not in my opinion much of a find.



It stars Lino Capalicchio whom I recognized immediately from the far superior arthouse film "The Garden of the Finzi-Continis" (1970). He plays an art expert who is employed to restore the altarpiece of a church in a remote town. Something should have alerted him immediately that all was not right, since the death of St. Sebastian was depicted here by knives (while as anyone with even a cursory knowledge of religious painting knows, the saint was killed by arrows). He might also have had further suspicions that the town harbored secrets by the succession of weird folk he encounters (a dwarf mayor, a slightly subnormal local lad, a paralysed old woman, an overly-cheery priest, et. al.) and by the fact that the friend who summoned him there soon meets his maker falling from a high window. He learns that the dead painter of the original fresco had death-cult leanings, encouraged by his two very strange older sisters, and that various suspicious disappearances accompanied the fresco's original conception.



This may make the film sound somewhat appealing, but I must tell you that the story unfolded in a more than slightly incoherent manner, aided by abrupt transitions between scenes. It did manage to convey a growing sense of dread as our hero attempted to solve the mystery of the painting's history, especially after his restoration was well and truly trashed. However the supposedly shock ending was too clearly signalled in the build-up and I found myself wishing that a more talented director might have used the bare bones of this story in a more compelling and suspenseful way. Oh yes, when I was beginning to think that the house of the title had no relevance, we were allowed to see the side view of the house where the old painter and his sisters had lived, with its large grinning red mouths painted across the panes -- not that this really had much to do with anything! It did, however, provide for a good "come-on" title for a frankly very flawed movie.

Susana (1951)

Despite being one of my favourite directors, I've written very little about Luis Bunuel recently, probably because I've known and loved his European output for so long and because there is so rarely an opportunity to view the mixed bag of films that he churned out during his "lost" years in Mexico. He left Spain after the Civil War, not for political reasons, but because work had dried up. After some years in the U.S. during which time he made no films, he settled in Mexico in the late 40s, became a citizen, and only returned to Spain at Franco's request in 1961 -- after which most of his greatest films emerged (if one puts his early youthful surrealist efforts with Dali into a box of their own). This is not to say that his Mexican sojourn was fallow, since it produced masterpieces like "Los Olvidados", "El", "...Archibaldo de la Cruz", and "Nazarin", but for much of the time he took whatever work was available, most often on low budget movies, with variable results.



It is still difficult to track down his Mexican output, but I am ever on the trail. "Susana" was one of the earliest, and he both wrote and directed this very minor outing. It is hard to label it anything other than an overheated melodrama, but it is not without interest and in many ways seems a forerunner of greater things to come. Rosita Quintana plays a delinquent sexpot who has escaped from a grim reformatory and who lands up in the driving rain at the plantation of a rich landowner. Taken in by the family and kindly treated, she deliberately sets out to seduce their student son, the macho foreman, and ultimately the father himself, setting herself on a collision course with his dutiful wife and her cheeky and suspicious housekeeper. By the end of the movie she is back in detention and the household is once again in harmony, almost as if nothing has transpired. However, underneath this surface one can sense Bunuel's belief that outside forces can so easily disrupt the taken-for-granted order of things and that happiness is a very delicate balance between temptation and duty.

Apocalypto (2006)

There are certain films that I am in no hurry to view, yet which I find surprisingly good when I eventually catch up with them. I thought Mel Gibson's previous directorial outing with "The Passion of the Christ" was well-done, even if it was not exactly my cup of tea. Before it was released, no one would have believed that a film shot in Aramaic would find an audience, but then no one allowed for the vast Christian fundamentalist market in America, which turned it into a pot of gold for Mr. Gibson. However, it is even less possible to envision a ready-made audience for a film shot in Mayan and this movie did not find the same success -- which is a shame actually, since it is a well-made, beautifully-shot, and ultimately very exciting action flick.

That it received its television premier in Britain on a very minor satellite channel rather than on Sky Movies or one of the main terrestrial channels reinforces the unfortunate impression that this film is not for the mainstream viewer. However, anyone who is prepared to read subtitles will discover a major achievement here. Gibson creates a stirring saga of a peace-loving group of forest-dwellers being captured by a warlike nation and taken to their city temple to be sacrificed to the angry gods. One young man manages to escape and does all in his power to return to his child and pregnant wife whom he has hidden away in a deep hole, all the while being pursued by a vengeful chief and his men. The second half of this rather long film thereby becomes a chase movie and one is rooting for young Jaguar Paw-- a monumental performance by one Rudy Youngblood -- all the while.

The care that has gone into the production design from the seemingly authentic make-up and costuming to the crowd scenes of thousands is more than admirable, and Mr.Gibson, whatever his faults, deserves our praise. I have read that the film is not exactly historically accurate, but who gives a damn. It's entertaining and brilliantly conceived and that counts for a lot nowadays.

The Best of a Bad Lot

I've seen some pretty dubious films over the last few days -- "Alvin and the Chipmunks" anyone? -- which are really not worth writing about. These included another two 2007 efforts which probably did no business to speak of: Hilary Swank in yet another poor role choice in "P.S. I Love You" and where-has-my-career-gone Meg Ryan in fraught family drama "In the Land of Women". Forget about them! So has there been anything deserving of comment? Well...



Venom (1981): This London-set "thriller" (I use the word lightly) would probably deserve to sink into obscurity were it not for the high-powered cast that give their all to this nonsense. The sickly son of a wealthy American couple has been left in their townhouse in the care of his grandfather, Sterling Hayden. A gang of would-be kidnappers, led by the ever-fiendish Klaus Kinski and including a psychotic Oliver Reed as the family's nasty chauffeur and sexy housemaid Susan George, are trapped there after trigger-happy Reed shoots a copper who has come to advise the household that a deadly black mamba is also within. This warning comes too late for Ms. George who has been fatally bitten. The outside forces led by Inspector Nicol Williamson and Sarah Miles as a toxologist attempt to resolve the stand-off. Needless to say -- and I'm not too worried about spoilers here -- the baddies all get eaten up and the goodies eventually survive, but not before the viewer is treated to some tolerable suspense, a few jump scares, and the usual OTT performance from Herr Kinski.



Payment Deferred (1932): This has the feeling of an early British talkie, but in fact it is an MGM movie featuring a number of newish actors before they became better-known, including Ray Milland in a small part as a long-lost and wealthy nephew and Maureen O'Sullivan as the daughter of the family led by paterfamilias Charles Laughton, a lowly bank clerk with unfounded aspirations. It's all very stagy and is in fact based on a Broadway play where Laughton created the role, but he is very definitely the whole reason for watching this obscurity. Hammy and mannered as his interpretation may be, he is never less than watchable, and for a Laughton aficionado like me, the film is a treat. He plays a more than flawed human being who stoops to murder to alleviate the family's financial woes (burying poor Milland out in the yard) and then falling into adultery whilst his family are away. However by a neat twist, he gets his comeuppance -- and not for the crime that he did commit...

Ping dammit!!!

Mighty Joe Young (1949)

While there is nothing very wrong with the overblown Charlize Theron remake of this film in 1998, it lacks the naive charm of the original, which in itself is an offspring of the 1933 "King Kong", with which this giant ape story shares a lead in the very old-time Robert Armstrong and a director, Ernest B. Schoedsack. Like its predecessor, the other leads, Terry Moore and Ben Johnson, were hardly A-listers, but do bring a believable simplicity to this tall tale.



The Joe Young of the title is Moore's "pet", having raised him since he was a baby and she was a wee girl on her family's back-of-beyond farm in Africa; he is her only friend and playmate. When Armstrong arrives on safari to find animals to take back to the jungle-themed nightclub he is opening in Hollywood, he convinces Moore (and Joe) to come with him. Unlike Kong who is merely displayed for the titillation of his viewers, Joe is taught to do various "party tricks" including a very camp tug-of-war against a bunch of cavemen-lite strongmen, including the boxing champion of the time Primo Carnera. Being locked up between shows, he pines for home and Moore can't get out of her contract. However when some drunken yobs feed him booze, Joe escapes and wrecks the joint -- including repetitive footage of a number of lions escaping from the broken glass behind the bar over and over again. It's a hoot! Now the police are on his tail, with orders to shoot. But when Joe becomes a hero by saving kids from a burning orphanage (!), a happy ending is assured. This sector of the black and white film is shot with a fiery orange tint which is very effective.



The creature was created by the legendary Willis O'Brien, who did not work on the original Kong, but who had a hand in its sequel and who was a mentor to another legend, Ray Harryhausen. Since this giant ape was in reality only about a foot tall, the special effects may seem primitive to the modern viewer who has been spoiled by CGI, but this does not make the movie any less entertaining. Too often remakes result in the original movie being lost to contemporary audiences, but fortunately this one is available on DVD and hopefully will live on to charm new generations.

All the Boys Love Mandy Lane (2006)

Although we have been regulars at the annual FrightFest in August for some years now, there are always a few of the twenty-odd movies shown over the four or more days of the Fest that we do not see, usually the late night ones which would involve missing the last train home (to say nothing about falling asleep during the showing). We do, however, try to catch up on the ones that have escaped and this film is a fine example of one that it would have been a shame to miss.





Not that I was expecting anything special from the basically no-name cast and the unknown director, Jonathan Levine (who has subsequently won an audience prize at Sundance for "The Wackness" in 2008). However this movie turned out to have a nifty twist on the promiscuous teen slasher genre. Gorgeous goody-two-shoes Mandy, played by Amber Heard, is lusted after by all of the jocks at her high school. She previously was best-mates with outsider Emmet, played by Michael Welch, until his dares at a pool party the previous summer resulted in the death of a popular guy and he became an official outcast. When Mandy is invited to a weekend party with some of the in-crowd, she accepts, but seems determined to preserve her chastity and her sanity as one by one her new friends succumb to various gruesome deaths. No secret is made of the fact, from fairly early in the proceedings, that a jealous Emmet is the killer. However, there is a totally unexpected turn of events which makes this film stand apart from and above its genre trappings. For someone who thinks she has seen it all (too many times) in even the most inventive horror outings, I was indeed taken by surprise, and that can't be a bad thing.

Christmas Crackers

In previous years I have tried to give some guidance as to whether there were any movies worth watching in the terrestrial Christmas schedules, but I have become so disillusioned by the very boring listings where most of the "Big" Xmas films have already been seen by all the world and his sister either at the cinema or on DVD and where the few "classic" films that they deign to show are more or less the same ones that appear year after year. (If it were up to me, I could produce a list of classic gems that have not seen the light of a TV screen for yonks). However, by careful scouring of the schedules, I did manage to find two recent movies which I had not viewed previously -- and these became my Christmas Crackers!

Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont (2005): This was my most pleasant surprise since I was previously completely unaware of this British film's existence. The lead is taken by elderly, widowed Joan Plowright, who moves into the residential hotel of the title in an effort to maintain some independence from her indifferent family. The place is populated with a collection of elderly eccentrics, all winningly played, and foremost amongst these is practical spinster Anna Massey. When Mrs. Palfrey falls on the pavement outside the basement flat of impoverished busker and would-be writer Rupert Friend, he becomes her surrogate grandson and the darling of the hotel's denizens. This was a touching, involving tale which grew warmer as it progressed and which, yes, left me with teary eyes by its close.

Starter for 10 (2006): I could recall the reviews for this second British film when it was released, but it seemed too slight a tale to interest me. Yet, come the day, it was pleasant enough viewing as provincial brainbox, James McAvoy (looking suitably young) wins a place at Bristol University and fulfils his dream of representing his college on the quiz programme University Challenge -- with, it turns out, disastrous results. Torn between a sexpot who enchants him and a left-wing social protester, his would-be lovelife is similarly disappointing. All in all this was a reasonable diversion, but not one that I would seek out again.

So what else was I doing? Well, I borrowed a copy of "Mamma Mia - The Movie" which I resisted seeing at the cinema, despite its mighty success. Initially I was alienated by the determinedly good-natured efforts from all of the players and was beginning to feel sligthly queasy, but by the end credits -- with all of the main actors resplendent in their spangly rock-star gear, I could understand the tremendous "feel-good" appeal of the movie, especially for Abba fans. In contrast, I decided to have yet another go at a really "feel-bad" movie, Todd Solondz's Happiness from 1998. This film is well-thought of and possibly on its way to cult status, but it is all just a wee bit too unpleasant for my taste, what with its paedophile therapist drugging and raping friends of his young son whom he is teaching how to masturbate, Philip Seymour Hoffman playing a pervert who gets his kicks from dirty phonecalls, a murderous overweight needy neighbour who lusts after him, and three damaged sisters who are involved with these characters, together with their on-the-verge-of-divorcing parents. Well acted indeed, but ultimately an unhappy and way-out slice of life that proves indigestible.

Wishing all of you a healthy and successful 2009, with hopefully lots of fine cinema viewing to come-PPP.

Herostratus (1967)

I am always tempted when I hear about the showing of some rare film oddity, so we went to the Institute of Contemporary Arts to see this one which was promoted as an experimental flick from someone called Don Levy featuring Helen Mirren in her first film role. I was further tempted by its very high rating on IMDb, but what a pretentious disappointment it turned out to be -- all 142 minutes of it!



The story, such as it is, concerns a young man who approaches an advertising tycoon to promote his forthcoming suicide. The film takes its title from a legendary "hero" who burnt down the Temple of Artemis, one of the seven Wonders of the World, in a bid for immortality. I assume this was meant to be some sort of satire or protest against commericalism and other evils of the modern world, since this slim story was intercut with archive news footage, fashion shoots, and bloody butchery from an abattoir -- along with some artsy-craftsy fast-motion footage. There were effectively only three main characters, the young man, the ad-man, and the latter's receptionist-cum-mistress -- none of whom were the least bit interesting or likeable. In the end it becomes apparent that no one gives a damn if the suicide occurs on schedule -- and while there is a death, there is virtually nobody there to note it.



This film was so full of itself that it didn't even run to front or back credits. Oh, and Helen Mirren did appear in it -- for about five minutes -- as a scantily clad model promoting kitchen gloves. Can I have those 142 minutes back please.

Woods are Wet (1973)

Well, if I thought the second film in the "Wild Japan" season at the National Film Theatre was going to be an improvement on the truly awful first, I was sadly mistaken. At least that one had some very artistic shibari (Japanese rope bondage) in its favour; this one has absolutely nothing to recommend it. The director, Tatsumi Kamashiro, was one of the stawlarts of the Roman Porno cycle and made some twenty films all with the Japanese word for 'wet' in their titles. Take that as you will!



What we have here is a virginal maiden on the run after being falsely accused of murdering her mistress and being befriended by an elegant lady in a chauffeur-driven limo. The latter encourages her to return as her companion to the remote inn where she lives with her "cruel" husband. Little does she realise that it is all a wicked plot to drag her into the corrupt household as a sex slave and to assist the perverted couple in preying on their occasional guests. We are then presented with a totally boringly filmed succession of rape, buggery, flagellation, and murder. Apparently there were some censorship trials at the time, so the director -- as a protest -- recut his film with big black blobs blocking either half the scene or bouncing around the various sexual quarters. This attempt by the director to bowdlerise the action as a means of pointing out the hypocrisy of censorship just comes across as incredibly stooopid and annoying.

Where's the wretched ping - please!

Inkheart (2008)

Sometimes it is an advantage not to be familiar with the novel on which a film is based, since one is inclined to complain about what has been omitted. At other times some familiarity might be helpful in order to comprehend what seems a somewhat sketchy tale that doesn't quite hang together -- and that is the case here with this adaptation of German author Cornelia Funke's fantasy.



Brendan Fraser, the author's insistant choice for the lead, plays a "book'doctor" and "silvertongue" -- someone who literally can make a book come alive when reading aloud. Some years before while reading 'Inkheart' to his young daughter, he allowed Paul Bettany's fire-juggler and Andy Serkis' dastardly villain to escape from its pages, but lost his beloved wife into the book as some sort of literary quid pro quo. Some eleven years on he drags his now teenaged daughter around the world looking for another copy of the volume so that he can read his wife back out, pursued by Bettany who wants to be read back in, and Serkis who wants to use Fraser's skills to acquire more riches in the human world that he has come to love. En route they meet up with an eccentric aunt played by Helen Mirren, usually the epitome of older-woman chic, but here made up as an eccentric old hag, although ultimately quite jolly with it, Jim Broadbent's absent-minded author, and a potential love-interest for the daughter when a handsome, young thief is read out of The Arabian Nights. Then it turns out that the daughter has inherited her father's skill when she is able to conjure up Toto from the Wizard of Oz, causing Serkis and his ink-stained minions (read out by a stutterer!) to capture her to serve their evil plans. That everything ends up more or less hunky-dory is down to movie-making skills rather than logic of any discernible kind.



By and large this was pretty enjoyable, and if it serves to lead youngsters to read more (a la Harry Potter), so much the better. However I couldn't help but feel that something was missing from the mix to make this the magical experience it might have been.

Shirley Temple

As an antidote to the last reviewed Japanese flick and some other truly dreadful recent films, I turned in this hour of need to the remarkable child who saved 20th Century Fox's hide back in the 1930s. Hard as it may be for today's seen-it-all cynic to believe and/or stomach, Shirley Temple was once the most popular film star in the world and appeared in a classic collection of movies before her teenaged years. Her later roles -- and she retired at the ripe-old age of 21 -- are not unwatchable, but lack the charm of the young moppet. However, in the movies made in that decade, there is always something to enchant the open-minded viewer -- normally her musical numbers -- and the cheeky, self-confident child becomes irresistible.



The pair that I treated myself to this week "The Littlest Rebel" and "The Little Colonel", both released in 1935, have much in common. Both are set in the Deep South, the first during the Civil War and the second some years afterwards, both allot her a mother and a father played by minor stars of the period (having two parents is something of an anomaly in her films, although her mother does die in the former), both have her winning over crusty older men (a Northern general and then Abraham Lincoln -- believe it or not -- in the first and cantankerous Lionel Barrymore as her estranged grandfather in the second), and both co-star her with Bill Robinson, the legendary Bojangles.



Being the 1930s, blacks in mainstream US movies were always in subservient roles, many of which are hard for today's modern mentality to allow (the ever-dumb Stepin Fetchit is the prototype), but some actors transcended this handicap to remain screen icons. Hattie MacDaniel who appears in the second of these two, is a case in point, memorably appearing in minor roles in dozens of big-budget films of the period and of course winning an Oscar for "Gone with the Wind". Robinson may be playing a slave in 'Rebel' and a butler in 'Colonel', but he does so with incredible dignity, sympathy, and a small degree of cheekiness as well, and we never think of him as any sort of inferior. However when he moves into dance and especially with his step-dancing routines with his young co-star, we are presented with never-to-be-diminished movie magic. An antidote indeed!

Wife to be Sacrificed (1974)

I mentioned that I would be viewing some films in the NFT's 'Wild Japan' season and this was the first. While the previous season tended to feature horror films of sorts, this one's emphasis seems to be on erotic films from classics like "Ai No Corrida" through 'pinku' movies, which as I have mentioned previously are nothing to do with gay cinema, but are generally soft porn. It takes a great deal to shock me -- at my age I think I have seen it all! -- but I was frankly taken aback that this particular and apparently very successful film of the 'Roman Porno' subgenre received a showing at such a generally serious and 'proper' venue. What surprised me even further is that there was little artistic value to justify its inclusion.

The story concerns the very lush-figured actress Naomi Tani (who became one of the leading queens of Japanese S & M) playing the estranged wife of an escaped convict -- known for his sexual battery AND paedophilia -- who is kidnapped by him and taken to a remote cabin. There she is trussed up in incredibly complicated ropes -- bondage remains a popular subject in Japanese photography -- and subjected to various tortures including dripping wax (forget about Madonna!) and sexual subjugation. Eventually she comes to enjoy this torment and the fiend adds a suicidal couple to the sexual menage. This is probably the first time I have seen a graphic portrayal of an enema featured as suitable screen viewing. I don't honestly think I am being much of a prude, but I am still searching for some way of justifying the film's excesses. They were, frankly, neither a turn-on nor entertainment of any description.

OK, it's all part of my ongoing education, but I do hope the next film we are seeing in this short season is less of a disappointment.

And where's the ping?

Love and Honour (2006)

I'll be having something of a Japanese fling over the next couple of weeks, since the National Film Theatre is having a second 'Wild Japan' season (and we viewed some real weirdies during the previous one a few years back).To kick things off we went to the ICA for the premiere of the above movie (not a 'wild' one) from director Yoji Yamada.



This is the third of three beautifully-done Samurai-themed films from this director, the first two being "Twilight Samurai" (2002) and "The Hidden Blade" (2004). Although they are all period pieces, set towards the end of the samurai system, none of them -- despite an obligatory action sequence -- are action films as such, but rather character studies of a certain mentality and caste system at the time. Our hero here spends his days at the local castle, as one of five food tasters for the Lord; happily married to a beautiful wife, he dreams of leaving this honourable but boring position to found a dojo where he can teach children from all walks of life. However a bit of tainted shellfish ends his hopes as he recovers from its serious effects to find that he is now blind.



His faithful wife is egged on by his relatives to approach a local ambitious Steward who has offered to help to ensure that the samurai continues to receive some stipend from the castle. Believing that the Steward's intentions are genuine and it does seem indeed that he has influence, she quickly finds out that his help comes at a price -- her virtue. Prepared to do anything for her husband, she gives herself, thinking it will be only once, but the lecherous fellow has longterm plans. When word gets back to her husband from his blabby aunt that the wife has been seen with a man, he has his servant follow her, learns the truth from her when she confesses to him, promptly annouces that he is now divorced from her, and drives her from the house in the pouring rain.



In due course when he learns that his stipend had nothing to do with the Steward, but came direct from the Lord who realised that our hero had saved his life, he gets even angrier, likening his wife's treatment to rape and determines to extract retribution. He may be blind, but Japan has a long historic tradition of blind swordsman (remember all the Zatoichi films), so he practices with his former master until he is ready to challenge the cad. It's probably best to stop here without too many spoilers, but use your imagination to guess how this story reaches its satisfactory, moving, and happy end.

An assortment of goodies (of sorts)

Although I'm now down to updating this blog every two to three days (it was more or less daily when I first started and I was keen as mustard), I still maintain my annual average of viewing two or three films a day and occasionally I feel the need to comment briefly on some of the flicks which have recently rolled across my appreciative eyeballs. Like these:

Vatel (2000): Although this French-produced film opened Cannes in the year it was made and although it offers a mighty performance by Gerard Depardieu, it was booed on its premiere showing and was a financial disaster -- largely because it was shot in English, the French script adapted by Tom Stoddard. This is something of a shame since it is a sumptuous production and it is gorgeous to look at with a magnificent Morricone score. Based on historical fact where Chief Steward Vatel lays on lavish hospitality for King Louis XIV visiting his impoverished master, the attention to detail is brilliantly handled. Apart from Depardieu, the rest of the leads are English-speaking by birth, but this doesn't necessarily add to the film's appeal. Uma Thurman is unremarkable as a woman of the court who befriends Vatel and Tim Roth always looks frighteningly weird in period togs and wigs. However, on balance, the movie deserves a kinder fate.

Operation Petticoat (1959) and Father Goose (1964): These are the only two of Cary Grant's late films (post-North by Northwest) which have never held a particularly high place in my affections and which I have not added to my collection. I therefore felt they were worth a reappraisal, especially since the former is considered 'hilarious' in certain quarters. I can't quite agree with that although Grant and Tony Curtis play well off each other. What I can state unequivocably is that Grant is never less than wonderfully watchable, even when given a thankless role as a crusty loner faced with a cloying Leslie Caron and a bunch of schoolgirls in the latter movie. The other thought that struck me as I rewatched this pair is how much George Clooney has begun to affect Grant's mannerisms when playing comedy.

We Own the Night (2007): I found this policier starring Joaquin Phoenix and Mark Wahlberg as estranged brothers far more involving that expected. The first film in seven years from writer-director James Grey whose "Yards" also paired these two actors, it was a good, solid action movie which effectively used its Brooklyn Russian-mafia background.

Hold That Co-ed (1938): Of course this would be the movie that I most enjoyed revisiting over the last few days since it stars my great fave John Barrymore. Like most of his late movies when he was permanently in his cups, he still manages to be more than amusing as a Huey-Longish type state governor seeking to run for the Senate and who depends upon building the fortunes of a down-at-the-heel local college and football team as the cornerstone of his would-be popularity. Of course this is all absolute nonsense, but the movie is so good-spirited with cheery performances from George Murphy, Jack Haley, Joan Davis (as an unbelievable football genius), and another of my favourites, Donald Meek, that I enjoyed every minute of this diversion.

What I tend to avoid when doing these occasional multiple reviews is any dwelling on the dross that I have also seen recently, since they seldom bear even thinking about a second time. Foremost amongst these in recent days is the Molly Shannon vehicle Year of the Dog (2007) which was promoted as a black comedy, but rather was something that belonged in a black hole!

Absurdistan (2008)

There is currently a German Film Festival on in London (an annual event which I have never previously attended) and I noted in the prospectus that the above film was made by the director of "Tuvalu" (1999), an absolutely enchanting, nearly silent fantasy (my review is in the archives at http://prettypinkpattyspictures.blogspot.com/). The director is Veit Helmer and to be honest I am totally unfamiliar with the remainder of his output, but after finding myself equally beguiled with his latest flick, I am obliged to check out the others.

What I was not expecting at a German film festival was a movie filmed in Azerbaijan with Russian dialogue. The director introduced the film and said that he searched widely for an idyllic village in which to set his tale and that it is sheer happenstance that the setting ended up as it did. Inspired by a small item he noted in a newspaper some years ago about the town of Surd where the women went on sexual strike to protest the fact that their menfolk had not maintained the water pipe to the village (reminiscent indeed of the Greek play "Lysistrata"), he renamed this scenario Ab-surd-istan and fantasised the bare bones of the tale. Two children born on the same day have been soulmates ever since, going through a wonderful engagement at age four and a mock marriage ceremony at age eight. As teenagers they can not wait to consummate their feelings for each other, but the girl's grandmother, who reads the stars, forecasts an auspicious date for them some four years in the future! The lad is sent away for training and returns before the due date, only for his betrothed to refuse him if he is unable to restore water to the village -- and there are only six days for their stars to be in the ideal conjunction. The further backstory is that the women of the town are the real workers and the men are a bunch of layabouts who only fancy their macho sexual prowess -- and this is told with great humour and a terrific assortment of expressive characters. Inspired by the girl's determination, they too withhold their favours until everything is put right. This outline doesn't half do justice to the charm of the story nor to the fantastical efforts of the young swain to win his beloved. This, like "Tuvalu" before it, is a film that deserves a wide audience, but one which it is regretfully unlikely to find outside the arthouse circuit. And more's the pity says PPP!

Good Luck Chuck (2007)

My previous entry said that I prefer to write about older or lesser-known films and this movie proves that some modern flicks are so dim-witted that the only fun a reviewer can have with them is to be rude about them. The fact that the mercifully short running time did provide a few chortles is insufficient reason for foisting this juvenile rom-com on the unsuspecting public.



Dane Clark seems to be a likeable enough comedian, although he is not known outside the U.S., but this vehicle gave him scant opportunity to shine. He plays a dentist who never seems to get the girl, while an urban myth springs up about him that one-off sex with the chump will lead to a woman finding the man of her dreams in the next man she meets. This allows the viewer to be entertained by a montage of enthusiastic sex scenes which I suppose are meant to be comic; however including encounters with his chubby, black technician and a grossly obese, pimple-covered hideosity go beyond good taste. When he meets a gal that he thinks might be the right one for him, as personified by Jessica Alba, he is afraid to consummate the relationship and risk losing her. While an attractive enough actress, she lacks any sort of comic timing and the writers therefore present her as something of a klutz and have her working with penguins (which are meant to be funny I guess; personally, I find them scary!). His sidekick from childhood is a fat loser who has become a cosmetic surgeon, takes out his lust on grapefruit (!), and ends up with a woman with three breasts (don't ask!). I understand that the previous demographic of 15-22 year olds for whom this film might have proved appealing are deserting movie-going for video games and the internet, which leaves me wondering who is left to appreciate these jejune shenanigans.