From time to time I feel obliged to do a compendium entry, especially when there is nothing much amongst my recent viewing that seems to warrant a review of its own. So here is a selection of movies seen since my last entry -- quite a few as it happens -- to be 'blessed' with a few comments:
Three French flicks, one from German TV: "Etoile sans Lumiere" (1946) which I watched for its screen role for Edith Piaf; it's a similar tale to "Singin' in the Rain" in which her voice is used to dub a fading screen star at the introduction to talkies, but without the happy ending. The other two, courtesy of CineMoi were "Mon Colonel" (2006) about intrigue in Algiers and its latter-day aftermath and "Rue des Plaisirs" (2002), a period-piece set at the end of World War Two about a whore, her true love, and the man who truly loves her. Again, don't look to the French for happy endings, although the former seemed to be morally acquitting a murderer.
Spring Parade (1940): This is the only Deanna Durbin film which I'd not seen before and a pleasant piece of period Austrian fluff it was with the young singer in good form and great support from some of my favourite character actors: Mischa Auer, S.Z. 'Cuddles' Sakall, and Franklin Pangborn.
Trauma (2004) and Bug (2006): These were two thoroughly muddled and unpleasant films of mental delusion, the first starring Colin Firth and the latter starring Ashley Judd, both of which featured a selection of creepy crawly insects which is guaranteed to freak me out.
Diary of the Dead (2007): I wish George Romero would pack it in with his zombie movies and either retire or find a new string to his bow. This one, in common with [Rec] a Spanish film of the same year which I saw about a week ago, follows the current Blair Witch/Cloverfield vogue of telling the tale via a hand-held video camera. Yuk! At least the Spanish entry which of course is being remade Stateside was well and truly scary, whereas the Romero effort could only boast three really nifty gore effects -- if you go for that sort of thing!
Painted Veil (2006): I really don't know who thought it would be a good idea to remake this 1934 Greta Garbo film at great length, starring Naomi Watts and Edward Norton. Yes, the photography actually filmed in China was magnificent, but the movie itself was worthy and dreary, despite the acting talent involved.
Make Way for Tomorrow (1937): This is one of the great unknown classics of that fabulous decade and is throughly sad and upsetting as it deals with a family's treatment of its older generation, a story which is as true today as ever. Beulah Bondi, only 48 when this was made, plays the aged mother of five children, including Thomas Mitchell (all of three years her junior) who is forcefully separated from her loving husband of many years (Victor Moore). A real weepy!
The Great Madcap (1949): This is another very minor film from the great Luis Bunuel during his Mexican exile concerning a wealthy man who pretends to have lost everything in an effort to teach a lesson to his greedy children and relatives. I'm glad to have finally seen it, but it's a very workaday film.
So now you have it, or partially, since I actually did see a few other things over the weekend, but who in their right mind watches so many films? I do, I proudly admit...
Monday, 30 March 2009
Friday, 27 March 2009
Isabelle Carre
It seems that I am still capable of discovering new things -- some saying about old dogs and all that. I had never heard of the French actress Isabelle Carre until, as chance would have it, I watched two films in which she stars two nights in a row, thanks to the surprising programming of the new French cinema channel. Both films date from 2005: In His Hands and L'Avion (The Airplane) and both were something out of the usual.
In the former, also known as "Entre ses Mains", she stars as an insurance claims manager, married and with a young daughter, when she meets the latest claimant, a vet played by the Belgian actor Benoit Poelvoorde -- so memorable for his turn as a killer in the 1992 movie "Man Bites Dog". He seems lonely and craves her company and she agrees to various meetings which are innocent on the surface, despite the fact that he is no oil painting and irascible and despite the fact that she has an attentive, dishy husband at home. The story is set in Lille where a serial killer has been preying on women for the last year and suppressing her fears that her new friend may be the culprit, she continues to see him. An arrest is made and she relaxes her guard, even as his behaviour becomes more and more suspicious, until the shock ending which one would only find in a French film.
In the second film which falls squarely into the fantasy genre, she again plays the married mother of a young boy. When her husband who is a military pilot and researcher is killed in an accident, the two of them must face life without him. At Christmas, shortly before his death, he gave the son a large one-piece model airplane of some strange white material; the boy does not conceal his disappointment since he thinks he was promised a bicycle. Afterwards, however, he develops a fascination with the plane and believes it has wonderful powers to move and to fly and that it will be able to lead him to a last meeting with his Dad to properly say their goodbyes. The plane does indeed appear to be something magical with a will all its own, and when a military scientist takes it away for study, the boy must find a way to liberate it and discover its true purpose. This was a warm and involving story, although perhaps not quite as successful as it might have been -- it just seemed to miss somehow -- but certainly a worthy effort by all concerned.
In the former, also known as "Entre ses Mains", she stars as an insurance claims manager, married and with a young daughter, when she meets the latest claimant, a vet played by the Belgian actor Benoit Poelvoorde -- so memorable for his turn as a killer in the 1992 movie "Man Bites Dog". He seems lonely and craves her company and she agrees to various meetings which are innocent on the surface, despite the fact that he is no oil painting and irascible and despite the fact that she has an attentive, dishy husband at home. The story is set in Lille where a serial killer has been preying on women for the last year and suppressing her fears that her new friend may be the culprit, she continues to see him. An arrest is made and she relaxes her guard, even as his behaviour becomes more and more suspicious, until the shock ending which one would only find in a French film.
In the second film which falls squarely into the fantasy genre, she again plays the married mother of a young boy. When her husband who is a military pilot and researcher is killed in an accident, the two of them must face life without him. At Christmas, shortly before his death, he gave the son a large one-piece model airplane of some strange white material; the boy does not conceal his disappointment since he thinks he was promised a bicycle. Afterwards, however, he develops a fascination with the plane and believes it has wonderful powers to move and to fly and that it will be able to lead him to a last meeting with his Dad to properly say their goodbyes. The plane does indeed appear to be something magical with a will all its own, and when a military scientist takes it away for study, the boy must find a way to liberate it and discover its true purpose. This was a warm and involving story, although perhaps not quite as successful as it might have been -- it just seemed to miss somehow -- but certainly a worthy effort by all concerned.
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
Three and Out (2008)
Some film projects appear so misbegotten that one would suspect that they had no chance of succeeding. Such is the case here with this story of a would-be writer who works as an underground (subway) driver and who has the misfortune of having two people fall in front of his train in short order. His co-workers convince him that if a third fatality occurs within the same month, he will be pensioned off with ten years' salary -- an appealing idea to someone who dreams of escaping to the countryside to fulfill himself. That this central role is taken by the anorexic-looking Mackenzie Crook (of British "Office" fame and also featured in the "Pirates of the Caribbean" flicks) made me wonder even more about its chances of success. So it was fair to say that I came to this movie with extreme prejudice and only watched it because it was there.
However I must confess that it worked as a film although I am at something of a loss to explain exactly why. Crook is tempted by the prospect of "easy" money and starts searching for a would-be suicide to agree to be his third victim. This involves keeping an eye out for bridge-jumpers and logging into suicide chatrooms on the web. As the result of the latter, he meets up with Sir Anthony Sher as a French nutter who wants him to cook and eat various bits of his anatomy until there is nothing left -- an absolutely outre turn for this respected actor. This is obviously out of the question, but he does find Colm Meaney as a down-and-out wastrel who agrees to the cash-for-his-life offer as a way of trying to make things up to the wife (Imelda Staunton) and daughter (British starlet Gemma Arterton) whom he deserted some eight years back. So off they go for the weekend up North to try to mend the bridges before Monday's date with death.
Apart from the fact that it was a little offputting to see Arterton happily snogging and shagging the skeletal Crook, the scenes between Staunton and Meaney felt very real. I won't write how this tale finishes, but it is not exactly as one would have expected in any conventional movie and it did manage to become unexpectedly moving. So, so much my preconceived prejudices; there is something to be said for keeping an open mind, even at the most dire of possibilities.
However I must confess that it worked as a film although I am at something of a loss to explain exactly why. Crook is tempted by the prospect of "easy" money and starts searching for a would-be suicide to agree to be his third victim. This involves keeping an eye out for bridge-jumpers and logging into suicide chatrooms on the web. As the result of the latter, he meets up with Sir Anthony Sher as a French nutter who wants him to cook and eat various bits of his anatomy until there is nothing left -- an absolutely outre turn for this respected actor. This is obviously out of the question, but he does find Colm Meaney as a down-and-out wastrel who agrees to the cash-for-his-life offer as a way of trying to make things up to the wife (Imelda Staunton) and daughter (British starlet Gemma Arterton) whom he deserted some eight years back. So off they go for the weekend up North to try to mend the bridges before Monday's date with death.
Apart from the fact that it was a little offputting to see Arterton happily snogging and shagging the skeletal Crook, the scenes between Staunton and Meaney felt very real. I won't write how this tale finishes, but it is not exactly as one would have expected in any conventional movie and it did manage to become unexpectedly moving. So, so much my preconceived prejudices; there is something to be said for keeping an open mind, even at the most dire of possibilities.
Saturday, 21 March 2009
Hitmen -- the Good, the Bad & the Ridiculous
Sometimes my movie viewing seems to centre around certain themes, and this seems to have been Hitman Week. However I really want to focus on only two of these films.
First up is "In Bruges" (2008) which I previously saw in part during my myriad transatlantic journeys last year (my initial reactions can be found in the archives) and which I wanted to view again under better conditions. This award-winner and audience-pleaser from writer-director Martin McDonagh manages to hit a happy vein of black comedy-drama in its tale of two British-based hitmen lying low in Bruges. The fact that this is one of my own favourite cities adds to the movie's appeal, but while the older of the two as played by Brendan Gleeson is happy to soak up the ancient town's appeal, the younger and dimmer played by a foul-mouthed Colin Farrell thinks it is a dump (except he describes it rather more explicitly). Farrell has messed up his first hit of a priest by accidentally killing a young lad at the scene and their boss, played by an equally potty-mouthed Ralph Fiennes, has sent them to cool their heels until he can decide how to deal with this. I have always found Farrell's appeal to be minimal, but credit where credit is due, he shines here as he mixes "culture" with a dishy drug-dealer and her venal colleague, American tourists, and a "midget" (actually a dwarf but dum-dum doesn't know the difference). The actual story is pretty grim if looked at too closely, but it is told in such an amusing way that the violence is almost forgiveable here.
The second film worth mentioning is a far less-known British effort, American Cousins (2003). This small movie seems to have made no dent on the moviegoer's radar and is not even listed in most film guides, but we found it a little gem. Two American hitmen from New Joisey have created something of a problem for their mob while on business in Prague, and they are told to hole-up with some Scottish-Italian relations in Glasgow (which in fact does have a large ethnic community). The two are played by young Danny Nucci and older Dan Hedaya; the latter has been a favourite of mine for many years, first registering with me in his occasional role of Nick Tortelli in "Cheers", a character actor with many strings to his bow. So they find themselves involved in the life of a small local cafe where owner Gerald Lepkowski, his would-be girlfriend/manageress Shirley Henderson, and his grandpa Russell Hunter (in his last role, but remembered here forever as the character Lonely in the "Callan" TV series) are at the mercy of some local hoodlums who want the premises. Hedaya soon makes short work of the British toughs while Nucci tries his hand at producing edible fish and chips. There is a pleasant feeling of good humour throughout, despite some fairly strong violence, and when the rest of the Sopranos-style New Jersey mob appear at the denouement, one again believes that hitmen can be as human, flawed, and complex as any of us.
First up is "In Bruges" (2008) which I previously saw in part during my myriad transatlantic journeys last year (my initial reactions can be found in the archives) and which I wanted to view again under better conditions. This award-winner and audience-pleaser from writer-director Martin McDonagh manages to hit a happy vein of black comedy-drama in its tale of two British-based hitmen lying low in Bruges. The fact that this is one of my own favourite cities adds to the movie's appeal, but while the older of the two as played by Brendan Gleeson is happy to soak up the ancient town's appeal, the younger and dimmer played by a foul-mouthed Colin Farrell thinks it is a dump (except he describes it rather more explicitly). Farrell has messed up his first hit of a priest by accidentally killing a young lad at the scene and their boss, played by an equally potty-mouthed Ralph Fiennes, has sent them to cool their heels until he can decide how to deal with this. I have always found Farrell's appeal to be minimal, but credit where credit is due, he shines here as he mixes "culture" with a dishy drug-dealer and her venal colleague, American tourists, and a "midget" (actually a dwarf but dum-dum doesn't know the difference). The actual story is pretty grim if looked at too closely, but it is told in such an amusing way that the violence is almost forgiveable here.
The second film worth mentioning is a far less-known British effort, American Cousins (2003). This small movie seems to have made no dent on the moviegoer's radar and is not even listed in most film guides, but we found it a little gem. Two American hitmen from New Joisey have created something of a problem for their mob while on business in Prague, and they are told to hole-up with some Scottish-Italian relations in Glasgow (which in fact does have a large ethnic community). The two are played by young Danny Nucci and older Dan Hedaya; the latter has been a favourite of mine for many years, first registering with me in his occasional role of Nick Tortelli in "Cheers", a character actor with many strings to his bow. So they find themselves involved in the life of a small local cafe where owner Gerald Lepkowski, his would-be girlfriend/manageress Shirley Henderson, and his grandpa Russell Hunter (in his last role, but remembered here forever as the character Lonely in the "Callan" TV series) are at the mercy of some local hoodlums who want the premises. Hedaya soon makes short work of the British toughs while Nucci tries his hand at producing edible fish and chips. There is a pleasant feeling of good humour throughout, despite some fairly strong violence, and when the rest of the Sopranos-style New Jersey mob appear at the denouement, one again believes that hitmen can be as human, flawed, and complex as any of us.
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
The Oxford Murders (2008)
I vaguely recall the very brief reviews that were published when this film was released here, which from memory were kinda poor, as are most of the comments on IMDb, so I was unprepared for my very favourable reaction to what I found to be a literate and intelligent mystery. Directed and co-written by Alex de la Iglesia, who has made some of the most unusual semi-horror flicks to emerge from Spain over the past fifteen years, this was his first English-language production and remained true to his love of the grotesque.
Elijah (Frodo) Wood plays an American graduate student who comes to Oxford University to do his mathematics doctorate under the mentoring eye of his hero John Hurt. Hurt on the other hand has given up tutoring students and now only gives the occasional lecture underlining his nihilistic philosophy; at one of these he trashes Wood's arguments when the latter tries to gain his attention, to the extent that the student is just about ready to pack up and go. However on returning to his digs at the home of eccentric Anna Massey, the widow of an Enigma code-breaker, and her unappreciated carer-daughter, he arrives at the same moment as family friend Hurt to discover Massey murdered. This begins a strange cooperation betwen the two mathematicians as they try to crack a code which they believe will lead to other random murders -- and indeed more follow (or so we are led to believe). There are any number of red herrings to puzzle police inspector Jim Carter before a final explanation is given that satisfies him, although the true answers and real culprits are only detailed at movie's end. Not having read the novel on which this film is based, I for one did not foresee the final twists.
There is a strong role for Spanish actress Leonor Watling (recognizable from several Almodovar flicks) as a hospital nurse with a sexual history with both Hurt and Wood, a sub-plot involving French actor Dominique Piton (whom I first saw in "Delicatessen" and who has one of those faces you just can't forget) as the father of a terminally ill child, and one of the most bizarre turns ever from director Alex Cox as a limbless, brain-damaged ex-colleague whom Hurt frequently visits. The film is far from perfect and logically doesn't completely hold together. However it is clever, involving, and so brilliantly acted by Hurt in particular that I have no problem in recommending it.
Elijah (Frodo) Wood plays an American graduate student who comes to Oxford University to do his mathematics doctorate under the mentoring eye of his hero John Hurt. Hurt on the other hand has given up tutoring students and now only gives the occasional lecture underlining his nihilistic philosophy; at one of these he trashes Wood's arguments when the latter tries to gain his attention, to the extent that the student is just about ready to pack up and go. However on returning to his digs at the home of eccentric Anna Massey, the widow of an Enigma code-breaker, and her unappreciated carer-daughter, he arrives at the same moment as family friend Hurt to discover Massey murdered. This begins a strange cooperation betwen the two mathematicians as they try to crack a code which they believe will lead to other random murders -- and indeed more follow (or so we are led to believe). There are any number of red herrings to puzzle police inspector Jim Carter before a final explanation is given that satisfies him, although the true answers and real culprits are only detailed at movie's end. Not having read the novel on which this film is based, I for one did not foresee the final twists.
There is a strong role for Spanish actress Leonor Watling (recognizable from several Almodovar flicks) as a hospital nurse with a sexual history with both Hurt and Wood, a sub-plot involving French actor Dominique Piton (whom I first saw in "Delicatessen" and who has one of those faces you just can't forget) as the father of a terminally ill child, and one of the most bizarre turns ever from director Alex Cox as a limbless, brain-damaged ex-colleague whom Hurt frequently visits. The film is far from perfect and logically doesn't completely hold together. However it is clever, involving, and so brilliantly acted by Hurt in particular that I have no problem in recommending it.
Sunday, 15 March 2009
The Edge of Heaven (2007)
I have seen earlier films from the director Fatih Akin which, while reasonably involving, did not prepare me for this masterly film. Although he is thought of as a Turkish director, he is actually German-born of Turkish parents, and his focus is on the experience of being caught between two cultures.
The story being told here is linked by three parent-child pairings and is played out in time shifts in Bremen, Hanover, and Istanbul. Ali is a horny old Turkish immigrant, whose German-born son is a university professor of German and part of a different world both intellectually and physically. Ali takes up with a Turkish-born sex worker who is supporting her daughter back home, with whom she has lost recent contact, under the myth that she is working in a shoe shop. The daughter in question is part of a Kurdish revolutionary group and has fled from the police to Germany where she meets and begins a lesbian relationship with a university student, daughter of a bohemian mother played by the great Hanna Schygulla.
There are two meaningful deaths amongst these six characters which I will not spell out with a spoiler warning, but these are clearly foretold in the first two (of three) chapter headings. The interesting thing about this film is not just how people deal with family and loss, but how chance and circumstance affect our lives. Although the characters all come close at times to discovering the underlying truths that connect them, they never fully realise how all six lives are linked together. They can only perservere and perhaps find forgiveness and/or salvation.
The story being told here is linked by three parent-child pairings and is played out in time shifts in Bremen, Hanover, and Istanbul. Ali is a horny old Turkish immigrant, whose German-born son is a university professor of German and part of a different world both intellectually and physically. Ali takes up with a Turkish-born sex worker who is supporting her daughter back home, with whom she has lost recent contact, under the myth that she is working in a shoe shop. The daughter in question is part of a Kurdish revolutionary group and has fled from the police to Germany where she meets and begins a lesbian relationship with a university student, daughter of a bohemian mother played by the great Hanna Schygulla.
There are two meaningful deaths amongst these six characters which I will not spell out with a spoiler warning, but these are clearly foretold in the first two (of three) chapter headings. The interesting thing about this film is not just how people deal with family and loss, but how chance and circumstance affect our lives. Although the characters all come close at times to discovering the underlying truths that connect them, they never fully realise how all six lives are linked together. They can only perservere and perhaps find forgiveness and/or salvation.
Thursday, 12 March 2009
The Vampire (1913) & A Fool There Was (1915)
Ever vigilant for new cinematic taste thrills, I noticed that there was a season of femme fatale flicks at the BFI and hastened there forthwith. However it was something of a disappointment and just goes to show how one's potential enjoyment can be mitigated by unknown factors. I hadn't realised that the films were part of some obscure festival celebrating female filmmakers, and for a start the showing was delayed (the kiss of death at a repertory cinema) while the organisers faffed about. However the biggest disruption was saved for the second and longer film when the movie was stopped halfway through for a scantily-clad and not overly talented tap-dancer doing her thing for what seemed like an interminable time. In addition both films "boasted" newly-commissioned scores: the lady pianist for The Vampire was adequate in a tinkly sort of way, but the Broken Heart DJ Collective ruined the second film by their unsuitable choice of music for the period, foremost of which was their playing of 'Aloha Hawaii' music during the principals' sordid sojourn in Italy, and they also ripped off Joplin, Gershwin, and Benny Goodman. I think they were trying to be too clever by half.
But what of the films themselves? Vampire in this context refers back to the scandalous 1897 Burne-Jones painting and the term refers not to a bloodsucker, but to a sex-wielding wealthsucker. The second movie takes its title from a minor Kipling poem which was normally recited before the showing of the film (as it was here by some more would-be talents) and stars Theda Bara, who is widely considered the screen's first vamp. The rather doggy female from the first film, Alice Hollister, came first, but it is Bara who wears the crown. All this is rather a dubious distinction for a nice Jewish girl from Ohio whose stage name was NOT chosen as an anagram for Arab Death! Although she made some 40-odd movies, most of these are now lost, and I think this is the first time I actually saw her in a full feature -- however I was not overwhelmed by her presence. Both films were remarkably pedestrian with a static camera in telling their tales of the good man who loses his way when he is enticed by a grasping woman. In the first a simple farm-boy comes to the Big City to make his fortune so that he can marry the lovely lass back home and loses everything, until he views a "famous" vaudeville stage dance portraying a Vampire's evil and mends his ways. In the second, a respected diplomat leaves the comfort of his loving family and sacrifices his reputation when he is ensnared by the irresistible Miss Bara. Nothing now can stand between him and total ruin as with other unfortunates before him. It was not easy to imagine what the vamp's actual appeal was here as tastes of female pulchritude have changed, but at least she got to whisper the immortal line (as rendered by the intertitle, this being a silent movie) "Kiss me, Fool!"
But what of the films themselves? Vampire in this context refers back to the scandalous 1897 Burne-Jones painting and the term refers not to a bloodsucker, but to a sex-wielding wealthsucker. The second movie takes its title from a minor Kipling poem which was normally recited before the showing of the film (as it was here by some more would-be talents) and stars Theda Bara, who is widely considered the screen's first vamp. The rather doggy female from the first film, Alice Hollister, came first, but it is Bara who wears the crown. All this is rather a dubious distinction for a nice Jewish girl from Ohio whose stage name was NOT chosen as an anagram for Arab Death! Although she made some 40-odd movies, most of these are now lost, and I think this is the first time I actually saw her in a full feature -- however I was not overwhelmed by her presence. Both films were remarkably pedestrian with a static camera in telling their tales of the good man who loses his way when he is enticed by a grasping woman. In the first a simple farm-boy comes to the Big City to make his fortune so that he can marry the lovely lass back home and loses everything, until he views a "famous" vaudeville stage dance portraying a Vampire's evil and mends his ways. In the second, a respected diplomat leaves the comfort of his loving family and sacrifices his reputation when he is ensnared by the irresistible Miss Bara. Nothing now can stand between him and total ruin as with other unfortunates before him. It was not easy to imagine what the vamp's actual appeal was here as tastes of female pulchritude have changed, but at least she got to whisper the immortal line (as rendered by the intertitle, this being a silent movie) "Kiss me, Fool!"
Monday, 9 March 2009
A one-day FrightFest
Apart from the annual four- or five-day gross-out every August Bank Holiday, the FrightFest mavens occasionally organise a one-day event (last year it was half a day!). So it was that we returned on Saturday to the Prince Charles Cinema, the festival's spiritual home, for an amusing twelve hours:
First up was "Embodiment of Evil" (2008), the third part of the Coffin Joe trilogy begun over 40 year's ago by the Brazilian eccentric Jose Mojica Marins. If you have never seen any of these black-and-white low budget atheistic atrocities, you haven't really missed much, although they form part of every horror aficionado's knowledge. This one boasted colour and far higher production values than his earliest outings and old footage was craftily included as the back-story of the black-caped sadist on his release from gaol and his need to father a child of his blood, This involved kidnapping and sadistically torturing a procession of nubile females with some of the grossest effects yet put on screen. What does it say about me if I call these "good fun"???
The second film was "Shuttle" (2009) which apparently opened in the States the day before. This low-budget rather cheapjack production told of five passengers kidnapped on an airport shuttle bus on a nightmare ride to somewhere -- the twist of the final destination was really the only mild shock in a badly filmed and barely watchable effort.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008): This rock opera developed from a 2006 promo by the director of "Saw" Two through Four and his two writing pals, was a very mixed bag, which while hardly to my taste did feature good production values and inventive staging. The story of spare body-parts mogul Paul Sorvino (who has an amazing singing voice) and his repo-man Anthony Head (who also made a good fist of the vocals) who rips out these parts when payments fall behind was an amusing concept. There was excellent use of graphics to flesh out the background stories of the main characters, but the film was a little let down by the variability of the vocal talent from the very adept Sarah Brightman through the screechy Alexa Vega as Head's daughter. As for Paris Hilton as one of Sorvino's greedy offspring, she has become a tolerable presence, who seems willing to send herself up, and this role certainly did not justify her appearance at the Razzies. Not my cup of tea, but I could see its attracting a cult following.
The "surprise film" was pretty well guessed at by all concerned and turned out to be the world premiere of "Lesbian Vampire Killers". This was not quite the trash that its title would suggest, but a tongue-in-cheek and generally amusing riff on the vampire genre, featuring James Corden and Mathew Horne,two popular TV comics (from series that I have never seen), fighting off the cursed village daughters -- all them become vampires when they turn 18 -- who follow the Vampire Queen Camilla (I shudder to think if this is a reference to Mrs. Charles). There was also a neat comic turn from Withnail favourite Paul McCann as the local vicar trying to save his daughter from the sexy tribe.
This was followed by "Not Quite Hollywood" (2008) a documentary about "Ozploitation". Apparently Australia progressed (if that is the right word) from having one of the most censored film communities to a cheery assortment of "Boobs, Pubes, and Tubes" in the 1970s, followed by a dandy assortment of minor horrors and action films spaced amongst the better-known art house output. Again, this was a humourous retrospective with a number of jokey talking heads -- Australian directors, producers, critics, and actresses who had removed their clothes -- although I personally could have done with rather less Quentin Tarantino, a self-confessed fan of these obscurities. Possibly a little too long with a trough of boredom in the middle, it was still entertaining to see so many of these long-forgotten clips.
Since it was now approaching midnight, we didn't bother to stay for the final film, "Turkey Shoot" from 1982, which I have on DVD anyhow and which couldn't really compete with the appeal of going home to bed after a long but generally entertaining day.
First up was "Embodiment of Evil" (2008), the third part of the Coffin Joe trilogy begun over 40 year's ago by the Brazilian eccentric Jose Mojica Marins. If you have never seen any of these black-and-white low budget atheistic atrocities, you haven't really missed much, although they form part of every horror aficionado's knowledge. This one boasted colour and far higher production values than his earliest outings and old footage was craftily included as the back-story of the black-caped sadist on his release from gaol and his need to father a child of his blood, This involved kidnapping and sadistically torturing a procession of nubile females with some of the grossest effects yet put on screen. What does it say about me if I call these "good fun"???
The second film was "Shuttle" (2009) which apparently opened in the States the day before. This low-budget rather cheapjack production told of five passengers kidnapped on an airport shuttle bus on a nightmare ride to somewhere -- the twist of the final destination was really the only mild shock in a badly filmed and barely watchable effort.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008): This rock opera developed from a 2006 promo by the director of "Saw" Two through Four and his two writing pals, was a very mixed bag, which while hardly to my taste did feature good production values and inventive staging. The story of spare body-parts mogul Paul Sorvino (who has an amazing singing voice) and his repo-man Anthony Head (who also made a good fist of the vocals) who rips out these parts when payments fall behind was an amusing concept. There was excellent use of graphics to flesh out the background stories of the main characters, but the film was a little let down by the variability of the vocal talent from the very adept Sarah Brightman through the screechy Alexa Vega as Head's daughter. As for Paris Hilton as one of Sorvino's greedy offspring, she has become a tolerable presence, who seems willing to send herself up, and this role certainly did not justify her appearance at the Razzies. Not my cup of tea, but I could see its attracting a cult following.
The "surprise film" was pretty well guessed at by all concerned and turned out to be the world premiere of "Lesbian Vampire Killers". This was not quite the trash that its title would suggest, but a tongue-in-cheek and generally amusing riff on the vampire genre, featuring James Corden and Mathew Horne,two popular TV comics (from series that I have never seen), fighting off the cursed village daughters -- all them become vampires when they turn 18 -- who follow the Vampire Queen Camilla (I shudder to think if this is a reference to Mrs. Charles). There was also a neat comic turn from Withnail favourite Paul McCann as the local vicar trying to save his daughter from the sexy tribe.
This was followed by "Not Quite Hollywood" (2008) a documentary about "Ozploitation". Apparently Australia progressed (if that is the right word) from having one of the most censored film communities to a cheery assortment of "Boobs, Pubes, and Tubes" in the 1970s, followed by a dandy assortment of minor horrors and action films spaced amongst the better-known art house output. Again, this was a humourous retrospective with a number of jokey talking heads -- Australian directors, producers, critics, and actresses who had removed their clothes -- although I personally could have done with rather less Quentin Tarantino, a self-confessed fan of these obscurities. Possibly a little too long with a trough of boredom in the middle, it was still entertaining to see so many of these long-forgotten clips.
Since it was now approaching midnight, we didn't bother to stay for the final film, "Turkey Shoot" from 1982, which I have on DVD anyhow and which couldn't really compete with the appeal of going home to bed after a long but generally entertaining day.
Friday, 6 March 2009
Two more from France
Well, my sampling the new CineMoi channel is turning out to produce its pleasant share of surprises, if not yet any really memorable outings. However I am fairly certain that it provides the opportunity to view a selection of flicks that would otherwise escape me. Here's a few words on two of the latest:
Riens du tout (1992): This is the debut film from director Cedric Klapisch and it is certainly an accomplished piece of work. For some reason the English translation of the title is "Little Nothings" which may or may not be relevant to the story about the numerous employees of a vast department store which faces closure in a year's time if the business can not be turned around. A new manager is brought in whose aim is to better employee relations and thus increase sales -- through such exercises as bungee-jumping and weekends at nudist camps -- and to make these anonymous clock-punchers into one big happy family. The large ensemble cast is made up of many familiar faces, if not familiar names, and we come to know and care for many of them during the film, especially a basically unemployable trouble-maker, a black cleaner (i.e. sanitation expert), and an unpaid student whose duties include performing costumed Greek dances and being the store's Santa Claus. The camera work as it sweeps about the store's expanse is also very professionally done. The film ends with a fine show of staff morale and togetherness, even 'though one knows that their jobs are no longer secure.
Un Secret (2007): I knew that this film starred dishy Cecile de France (who is actually Belgian) and flavour-of-the-year Mathieu Amalric, although I did not expect to see them as mother and son! The movie zips between action from the 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 80s with de France as the sexy mother in the early scenes (not that she ages much until the end of the film) and Almaric as the grown son in the late ones. I was surprised to find that this is actually a Holocaust-genre film, since the characters play French Jews who undergo various traumas during and after the war years. Unlike many films, the characters do not all suffer nobly and the secret of the title is that the young son's heritage is denied and hidden; it is only as a teenager that he learns about his father's first marriage (an impressive turn by Ludivine Sagnier) and the disappearance of the son that could make his father proud in a way that he never can. This destroys the fantasies he has nurtured about his parents' fairytale marriage and helps to explain his father's continued disappointment. The action moves rather haphazardly amongst the decades with not a little confusion at times, but director Claude Miller handles this adequately. The irony is that the arrogant father played by Patrick Bruel is more concerned in the final scenes about the death of his pet dog than he was about Sagnier and his supposedly beloved son.
Riens du tout (1992): This is the debut film from director Cedric Klapisch and it is certainly an accomplished piece of work. For some reason the English translation of the title is "Little Nothings" which may or may not be relevant to the story about the numerous employees of a vast department store which faces closure in a year's time if the business can not be turned around. A new manager is brought in whose aim is to better employee relations and thus increase sales -- through such exercises as bungee-jumping and weekends at nudist camps -- and to make these anonymous clock-punchers into one big happy family. The large ensemble cast is made up of many familiar faces, if not familiar names, and we come to know and care for many of them during the film, especially a basically unemployable trouble-maker, a black cleaner (i.e. sanitation expert), and an unpaid student whose duties include performing costumed Greek dances and being the store's Santa Claus. The camera work as it sweeps about the store's expanse is also very professionally done. The film ends with a fine show of staff morale and togetherness, even 'though one knows that their jobs are no longer secure.
Un Secret (2007): I knew that this film starred dishy Cecile de France (who is actually Belgian) and flavour-of-the-year Mathieu Amalric, although I did not expect to see them as mother and son! The movie zips between action from the 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 80s with de France as the sexy mother in the early scenes (not that she ages much until the end of the film) and Almaric as the grown son in the late ones. I was surprised to find that this is actually a Holocaust-genre film, since the characters play French Jews who undergo various traumas during and after the war years. Unlike many films, the characters do not all suffer nobly and the secret of the title is that the young son's heritage is denied and hidden; it is only as a teenager that he learns about his father's first marriage (an impressive turn by Ludivine Sagnier) and the disappearance of the son that could make his father proud in a way that he never can. This destroys the fantasies he has nurtured about his parents' fairytale marriage and helps to explain his father's continued disappointment. The action moves rather haphazardly amongst the decades with not a little confusion at times, but director Claude Miller handles this adequately. The irony is that the arrogant father played by Patrick Bruel is more concerned in the final scenes about the death of his pet dog than he was about Sagnier and his supposedly beloved son.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Trust the Man (2005)
Considering the cost of making and marketing movies nowadays, it is remarkable that so many flops reach the public, and not just from the so-called Indie sector. Until I noticed this film in the late-night schedules, I had never heard of it -- despite its starry cast -- and it had not even been shown previously on the not too fussy subscription film channels.
It stars Julianne Moore and was written for her by her husband, the director Bart Freundlich, but frankly it was not much of a gift. She plays the stage actress wife of David Duchovny who has given up the world of advertising to become a house-husband. Being something of a sex addict -- not too far a stretch if the tabloids are to be believed -- he begins an affair with a divorcee whom he meets at their kids' school, thus jeopardising his already shaky marriage. Meanwhile Moore's immature brother, Billy Crudup, who is in a long-term relationship with broody Maggie Gyllenhaal, shies from commitment. The plain truth is that one doesn't really care about any of these people and the film lacks both humour and warmth. The contrived happy ending feels like just that and nothing more. This talkfest was not some low-budget effort since there were throwaway parts for Eva Mendes, Gary Shandling, James Le Gros, and an uncredited Bob Balaban, but one can't help regretting that the talent on display were not better served.
It stars Julianne Moore and was written for her by her husband, the director Bart Freundlich, but frankly it was not much of a gift. She plays the stage actress wife of David Duchovny who has given up the world of advertising to become a house-husband. Being something of a sex addict -- not too far a stretch if the tabloids are to be believed -- he begins an affair with a divorcee whom he meets at their kids' school, thus jeopardising his already shaky marriage. Meanwhile Moore's immature brother, Billy Crudup, who is in a long-term relationship with broody Maggie Gyllenhaal, shies from commitment. The plain truth is that one doesn't really care about any of these people and the film lacks both humour and warmth. The contrived happy ending feels like just that and nothing more. This talkfest was not some low-budget effort since there were throwaway parts for Eva Mendes, Gary Shandling, James Le Gros, and an uncredited Bob Balaban, but one can't help regretting that the talent on display were not better served.
Saturday, 28 February 2009
Only God Sees Me (1998)
A new French-language film channel called CineMoi (clever name) started broadcasting this week and anything which puts a further selection of movies at my disposal is always warmly welcomed. It is due to be encrypted into a subscription channel in April, but I shall treat it as a "taster" in the interim to decide if it is worth the cost -- although I suspect even now that I will succumb. They are only showing three films a day plus the occasional short and the first week's offerings have been strong on well-known flicks like "Jules et Jim" and the Three Colours trilogy, but there is an encouraging sprinkling of movies which are completely unknown to me -- although I think I can live without watching some of the downbeat "kitchen-sink" type grimfests.
This film originally known as "Dieu seul me voit" is a collaboration between director Bruno Podalydes and his writer-actor brother Denis P, neither of whom I could have told you about last week, although I did recognise Denis from other films. He plays an insecure, somewhat unattractive and balding film sound engineer, who hasn't had much luck with the ladies, but who suddenly finds himself desired by three dishy females -- a left-wing bloodbank nurse with a string of ex-lovers, the oversexed ditzy girlfriend of his best friend, and a controversial and intellectual film director. One was rather put in mind of Woody Allen finding himself the love object of an unlikely string of leading ladies in some of his films, but despite the occasional small smile, there was little of Allen's trademark wise-cracking here. French comedies are seldom all-out ha-ha funny, but the situations in which our feckless hero found himself made the film an entertaining and undemanding watch before -- like so many French flicks -- it just stopped without any satisfying conclusion.
Never mind; if this channel continues to produce enough new taste thrills for my jaded palette, it should prove well worth the cost.
This film originally known as "Dieu seul me voit" is a collaboration between director Bruno Podalydes and his writer-actor brother Denis P, neither of whom I could have told you about last week, although I did recognise Denis from other films. He plays an insecure, somewhat unattractive and balding film sound engineer, who hasn't had much luck with the ladies, but who suddenly finds himself desired by three dishy females -- a left-wing bloodbank nurse with a string of ex-lovers, the oversexed ditzy girlfriend of his best friend, and a controversial and intellectual film director. One was rather put in mind of Woody Allen finding himself the love object of an unlikely string of leading ladies in some of his films, but despite the occasional small smile, there was little of Allen's trademark wise-cracking here. French comedies are seldom all-out ha-ha funny, but the situations in which our feckless hero found himself made the film an entertaining and undemanding watch before -- like so many French flicks -- it just stopped without any satisfying conclusion.
Never mind; if this channel continues to produce enough new taste thrills for my jaded palette, it should prove well worth the cost.
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Les Portes de la nuit (1946)
As far as I know this was Marcel Carne and Jacques Prevost's last collaboration, although both continued to work in film for some years, and it is of interest for a number of reasons. It originated as a short ballet which Prevert wrote in 1945 for the choreographer Roland Petit, which was both a critical and popular success, and the film adaptation was eagerly anticipated. The stars of choice were, believe it or not, Marlene Dietrich and Jean Gabin (they did indeed appear in another film together) but both begged off the project. Their replacements were the somewhat younger and inexperienced Nathalie Nattier and Yves Montand -- the latter best known as a singer rather than an actor at the time.
The story is in the Carne-Prevost tradition of doomed lovers -- strangers who meet in the night to fall in love and then lose each other -- and the setting is a very drab post-war Parisian neighbourhood populated by very ordinary characters. In fact Carne was quoted as saying that if he could not have his choice of film stars, he would make the environment the star of the film. Unfortunately this did not fit in with what the public of the time wanted after the grey war years and the film does not allow for any escapism from the harsh realities of post-Liberation Paris. Looking at it now, we can appreciate its place in the filmmakers' canon, with its poetic veneer and moody photography; it even has a quasi-supernatural character in a foreseeing tramp called Destiny. I liked the film a lot, although again it was probably just a tad too long for the sad tale.
What threw me most however was the theme music which we in the English-speaking world recognise as Johnny Mercer's "Autumn Leaves" but which was originally a French tune played in counterpoint to the action here. Montand, who seemed huge and whom I barely recognized since I associate him with his much later roles, doesn't actually sing the song, but it is reprised at various stages throughout and the worldweary lyrics include the film's title: The Gates of Night. The other thing that briefly confused me was the appearance of Pierre Brasseur as Nattier's estranged husband, whom I was convinced I saw in a film a few days back -- some sixty years on; turns out that was his son Claude Brasseur, now 70ish, but immediately visible in his much younger father here. There is also an early role for Serge Reggiani as a nasty collaborator who meets his comeuppance as Destiny foretold.
The story is in the Carne-Prevost tradition of doomed lovers -- strangers who meet in the night to fall in love and then lose each other -- and the setting is a very drab post-war Parisian neighbourhood populated by very ordinary characters. In fact Carne was quoted as saying that if he could not have his choice of film stars, he would make the environment the star of the film. Unfortunately this did not fit in with what the public of the time wanted after the grey war years and the film does not allow for any escapism from the harsh realities of post-Liberation Paris. Looking at it now, we can appreciate its place in the filmmakers' canon, with its poetic veneer and moody photography; it even has a quasi-supernatural character in a foreseeing tramp called Destiny. I liked the film a lot, although again it was probably just a tad too long for the sad tale.
What threw me most however was the theme music which we in the English-speaking world recognise as Johnny Mercer's "Autumn Leaves" but which was originally a French tune played in counterpoint to the action here. Montand, who seemed huge and whom I barely recognized since I associate him with his much later roles, doesn't actually sing the song, but it is reprised at various stages throughout and the worldweary lyrics include the film's title: The Gates of Night. The other thing that briefly confused me was the appearance of Pierre Brasseur as Nattier's estranged husband, whom I was convinced I saw in a film a few days back -- some sixty years on; turns out that was his son Claude Brasseur, now 70ish, but immediately visible in his much younger father here. There is also an early role for Serge Reggiani as a nasty collaborator who meets his comeuppance as Destiny foretold.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Fur (2006)
I actually watched this film a few weeks back, but couldn't quite decide whether I really wanted to write about it or if I could collect my thoughts sufficiently to make any worthwhile comments. The movie is subtitled 'An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus' which is the main reason that I wanted to see it -- and like so many unsuccessful films, it was not straightforward to find a copy here. Diane Arbus was one of the great photographers of all time -- not a point that I wish to argue -- and the story of her life from her moneyed New York Jewish background through her suicide at a relatively young age would have made a fascinating biopic, but this movie is not that creature. Instead the filmmakers have created a make-believe rationale for her development as a highly original talent which, while not uninteresting, has absolutely nothing to do with the real artist. Apart from playing fast and loose with the facts of her life, there are no examples of her work -- not even pastiche samples -- which is rather like filming a composer's biopic without his music.
Nicole Kidman is totally wrong physically for the embodiment of small, dark Diane, a tall painfully thin and painfully pale spectre, under the thumb of her overbearing parents and husband. According to this film her conversion begins when an intriguing masked man moves into her apartment building and how she becomes infatuated and indoctrinated by her new neighbour, Lionel. He is played by the ever-remarkable Robert Downey, Jr. as a man suffering from an illness which manifests itself by covering him from head to toe in thick, silky hair -- an artsy Chewbacca if you will. His apartment is filled with curios and photos of freaks and he undertakes educating the repressed Diane by introducing her to his strange circle of friends. Anyone familiar with her actual work knows that she not only liked to photograph unusual-looking folk -- giants, midgets, nudists, subnormals -- but that even ordinary people look somewhat freakish in her pictures. This distinctive take on humanity is what makes her photography something special and it is a little flip to suggest that she was led into this mindset by a tragic romance.
On its own terms the film is well-made and absorbing, but it is something of a disappointment for anyone who knows anything at all about Arbus.
Nicole Kidman is totally wrong physically for the embodiment of small, dark Diane, a tall painfully thin and painfully pale spectre, under the thumb of her overbearing parents and husband. According to this film her conversion begins when an intriguing masked man moves into her apartment building and how she becomes infatuated and indoctrinated by her new neighbour, Lionel. He is played by the ever-remarkable Robert Downey, Jr. as a man suffering from an illness which manifests itself by covering him from head to toe in thick, silky hair -- an artsy Chewbacca if you will. His apartment is filled with curios and photos of freaks and he undertakes educating the repressed Diane by introducing her to his strange circle of friends. Anyone familiar with her actual work knows that she not only liked to photograph unusual-looking folk -- giants, midgets, nudists, subnormals -- but that even ordinary people look somewhat freakish in her pictures. This distinctive take on humanity is what makes her photography something special and it is a little flip to suggest that she was led into this mindset by a tragic romance.
On its own terms the film is well-made and absorbing, but it is something of a disappointment for anyone who knows anything at all about Arbus.
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Voyage Surprise (1947)
All I really knew about the French surrealist poet Jacques Prevert is that he wrote most of the screenplays and dialogue for the populist director Michel Carne and that between the late 30s and mid 40s they were jointly responsible for some of the most poetic, atmospheric, and memorable films of that period including "Drole de drame", "Le Quai des brumes", "Hotel du Nord", "Le Jour se leve", and their monumental masterpiece "Les Enfants du Paradis". The National Film Theatre is currently presenting a season of their work, jointly and separately, and I shall be returning next week to view "Les Portes de la nuit" which is one of their few I've not seen previously. What I was not aware of beforehand is that Prevert also scripted Jean Renoir's "Boudu.." back in 1932 nor that he had a younger brother, Pierre, who was also a director, actor, and writer.
This film is one of the brothers' rare collaborations and is an unusual, humorous treat. The title translates as "Mystery Tour" and this is what is being offered to the inhabitants of a provincial village by the elderly and failing tour bus operator Pere Piuf. There is no itinerary nor price and the proposed vehicle is a converted 'wedding bus' with plush loveseats and fixtures. An assortment of local types of all classes are attracted to the voyage including two young men on the lam from Paris with a purloined taxi (in which the stolen jewels of a Ruritanian duchy have been hidden in the toolbox) with two inept cops hot in pursuit. There is also the daughter of a more successful coach operator, played by the young Martine Carol -- the only cast member familiar to me -- who is aboard to sabotage the tour and a young and swooning wedding couple who join the motley crew en route. Their adventures include overnighting in a smalltown brothel where the rooms convert into magic kingdoms or otherwise, as the two policeman find their room turned into a hurricaine zone, and finding themselves on stage at a theatre performance attended by an exiled Duchess. Much has been made of this grand personage throughout the film, so it comes as something of a hoot to find her being played by a male dwarf! Throw into the mix a mad revolutionary and desperate diplomats chaining up dissidents and the stage is set for the farce this film becomes. My only criticism is that the programme listed this as an 85-minute film and it in fact ran for another twenty minutes or so which is probably 20 minutes too much for this sort of whimsy.
This film is one of the brothers' rare collaborations and is an unusual, humorous treat. The title translates as "Mystery Tour" and this is what is being offered to the inhabitants of a provincial village by the elderly and failing tour bus operator Pere Piuf. There is no itinerary nor price and the proposed vehicle is a converted 'wedding bus' with plush loveseats and fixtures. An assortment of local types of all classes are attracted to the voyage including two young men on the lam from Paris with a purloined taxi (in which the stolen jewels of a Ruritanian duchy have been hidden in the toolbox) with two inept cops hot in pursuit. There is also the daughter of a more successful coach operator, played by the young Martine Carol -- the only cast member familiar to me -- who is aboard to sabotage the tour and a young and swooning wedding couple who join the motley crew en route. Their adventures include overnighting in a smalltown brothel where the rooms convert into magic kingdoms or otherwise, as the two policeman find their room turned into a hurricaine zone, and finding themselves on stage at a theatre performance attended by an exiled Duchess. Much has been made of this grand personage throughout the film, so it comes as something of a hoot to find her being played by a male dwarf! Throw into the mix a mad revolutionary and desperate diplomats chaining up dissidents and the stage is set for the farce this film becomes. My only criticism is that the programme listed this as an 85-minute film and it in fact ran for another twenty minutes or so which is probably 20 minutes too much for this sort of whimsy.
Monday, 16 February 2009
Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)
Let me state upfront that I am a big Woody Allen fan (there are increasingly fewer of us). It's not that I particularly love his early "funny" work nor his cod-Bergman serious stuff, but most of his post-"Manhattan" movies charm me through their zingy dialogue, amazing casts, and general air of pleasant inconsequence. The one recent exception which I saw on an airplane and which has never been released here is "Hollywood Ending" which is definitely sub-standard and I understand that "Cassandra's Dream" which I've not yet seen is pretty awful -- although I shall make my own mind up in due course.
I was therefore especially keen to view the above film which everyone said was a 'return to form', although that's been said before. Perhaps because the movie has been so hyped, I'm sorry to say that I was actually a little disappointed. It's a pleasant enough watch and Allen makes good use of the wonderful Barcelona settings and Spanish music, but it seemed to be lacking that leavening of humour which makes his films special. The story concerns two best friends from the States spending a summer in Spain, the serious level-headed one played by Rebecca Hall (who's really beginning to register with me) and the flighty ungrounded one played by Allen's new muse Scarlett Johansson. There they meet macho artist Javier Bardem -- wonderful as always but in a slightly degrading role I think -- and his fiery ex-wife played by Penelope Cruz. The latter seems to be walking away with best supporting actress awards at present, but I can't say that I thought she was all that remarkable, and would far rather see either of the actresses nominated in the category for "Doubt" walk off with the Oscar.
Anyhow to return to the Woody at hand, yes, it's an interesting enough movie and a pleasant diversion with a fine ensemble cast, but nowhere near his greatest or most memorable films.
I was therefore especially keen to view the above film which everyone said was a 'return to form', although that's been said before. Perhaps because the movie has been so hyped, I'm sorry to say that I was actually a little disappointed. It's a pleasant enough watch and Allen makes good use of the wonderful Barcelona settings and Spanish music, but it seemed to be lacking that leavening of humour which makes his films special. The story concerns two best friends from the States spending a summer in Spain, the serious level-headed one played by Rebecca Hall (who's really beginning to register with me) and the flighty ungrounded one played by Allen's new muse Scarlett Johansson. There they meet macho artist Javier Bardem -- wonderful as always but in a slightly degrading role I think -- and his fiery ex-wife played by Penelope Cruz. The latter seems to be walking away with best supporting actress awards at present, but I can't say that I thought she was all that remarkable, and would far rather see either of the actresses nominated in the category for "Doubt" walk off with the Oscar.
Anyhow to return to the Woody at hand, yes, it's an interesting enough movie and a pleasant diversion with a fine ensemble cast, but nowhere near his greatest or most memorable films.
Friday, 13 February 2009
The Story of Mankind (1957)
This film has the reputation of being amongst the worst ever made, which -- having finally managed to view a copy (it is barely ever screened and is not available in other formats) -- I think is overstating the movie's faults and understating much of its appeal.
It was directed by Irwin Allen, later known for disaster movies like "The Poseidon Adventure" and "The Towering Inferno", and people are inclined to describe this early effort as something of a shipwreck disaster. Based on a popular history published in the 1920s by one Hendrick Van Loon (very suitable name for the looney tunes feel of this flick), it portrays a "High Tribunal in Outer Space" presided over by Cedric Hardwicke to decide the fate of man -- whether he should be allowed to live or whether he should be destroyed by a "super H-bomb"! The case for survival is pleaded by "the spirit of Man" played by Ronald Colman in his last screen role; the case for destruction is the province of the Devil, Mr. Scratch, as portrayed by Vincent Price. Now these are two of the most mellifluous voices in film history, and I for one am happy to listen to whatever nonsense they may sprout. Between them they review history from biblical times underlining man's good works and his evil ones.
This is where the film garners its bad rep, as Allen depends on stock footage from better films and presents the viewer with one of the most insane casts in film history. For example we have three of the Marx Brothers in their last film together (and in colour) although they share no scenes: Groucho playing a wise-cracking Peter Minuit cheating the Indians out of Manhattan Island, Harpo as a harp-playing Isaac Newton being bombarded with dozens of apples, and Chico as a monk. Among the other weird casting is Hedy Lamarr as the oldest-ever Maid of Orleans -- a 43-year old Joan of Arc, Peter Lorre as Nero, Agnes Moorehead as Queen Elizabeth, Marie Wilson as a streetwise Marie Antoinette, a 21-year old Dennis Hopper as Napoleon with an aging Josephine played by Marie Windsor, and Virginia Mayo in a dark wig as Cleopatra. If you look quickly, you can also spot old-timers Charles Coburn, Edward Everett Horton, Franklin Pangborn, Reginald Gardner, and Cesar Romero. All of this makes it a camp classic in my book and well worth seeking out, if only for its weirdness and madcap conception.
It was directed by Irwin Allen, later known for disaster movies like "The Poseidon Adventure" and "The Towering Inferno", and people are inclined to describe this early effort as something of a shipwreck disaster. Based on a popular history published in the 1920s by one Hendrick Van Loon (very suitable name for the looney tunes feel of this flick), it portrays a "High Tribunal in Outer Space" presided over by Cedric Hardwicke to decide the fate of man -- whether he should be allowed to live or whether he should be destroyed by a "super H-bomb"! The case for survival is pleaded by "the spirit of Man" played by Ronald Colman in his last screen role; the case for destruction is the province of the Devil, Mr. Scratch, as portrayed by Vincent Price. Now these are two of the most mellifluous voices in film history, and I for one am happy to listen to whatever nonsense they may sprout. Between them they review history from biblical times underlining man's good works and his evil ones.
This is where the film garners its bad rep, as Allen depends on stock footage from better films and presents the viewer with one of the most insane casts in film history. For example we have three of the Marx Brothers in their last film together (and in colour) although they share no scenes: Groucho playing a wise-cracking Peter Minuit cheating the Indians out of Manhattan Island, Harpo as a harp-playing Isaac Newton being bombarded with dozens of apples, and Chico as a monk. Among the other weird casting is Hedy Lamarr as the oldest-ever Maid of Orleans -- a 43-year old Joan of Arc, Peter Lorre as Nero, Agnes Moorehead as Queen Elizabeth, Marie Wilson as a streetwise Marie Antoinette, a 21-year old Dennis Hopper as Napoleon with an aging Josephine played by Marie Windsor, and Virginia Mayo in a dark wig as Cleopatra. If you look quickly, you can also spot old-timers Charles Coburn, Edward Everett Horton, Franklin Pangborn, Reginald Gardner, and Cesar Romero. All of this makes it a camp classic in my book and well worth seeking out, if only for its weirdness and madcap conception.
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Waitress (2007)
This quirky, indie film was a very pleasant surprise, made all the more poignant by the fact that its writer-director Adrienne Shelley was murdered, aged 40, by a sneak-thief shortly before the movie's debut. She registered as someone to watch in her film debut in Hal Hartley's 1989 gem "The Unbelievable Truth". Over the years she continued to act, write and direct, but most of her output stayed sub-radar. On the strength of this movie, cinema lost a major talent with her death.
Keri Russell in a brilliant turn plays a small-town waitress married to and pregnant by her pig of a husband, Jeremy Sisto, whom she dreams of leaving. Her only fulfillment is in imagining and baking fantastic pies which are served daily at the diner where she works with cynical Cheryl Hines and wallflower Shelley. When a new doctor hits town and takes over her pre-natal care, an irresistible attraction arises between them, despite his being married to a perfectly fine wife and her being both chained to the jealous and violent Sisto and lumbered with an unwanted foetus. The viewer can't help but root for this pair, despite knowing that they have no long-term future. The cast is rounded out by a sparkling turn from Andy Griffith as the cantankerous pie-diner owner with a soft spot for Russell. (I didn't even realise that he is still available!)
The film is very winning as it traces the romances of the three co-workers, especially that of frumpy Shelley and her nerdy suitor. It is also extremely colourful as Russell dreams up and creates her fantastic pies. All in all, this is a mouth-watering success.
Keri Russell in a brilliant turn plays a small-town waitress married to and pregnant by her pig of a husband, Jeremy Sisto, whom she dreams of leaving. Her only fulfillment is in imagining and baking fantastic pies which are served daily at the diner where she works with cynical Cheryl Hines and wallflower Shelley. When a new doctor hits town and takes over her pre-natal care, an irresistible attraction arises between them, despite his being married to a perfectly fine wife and her being both chained to the jealous and violent Sisto and lumbered with an unwanted foetus. The viewer can't help but root for this pair, despite knowing that they have no long-term future. The cast is rounded out by a sparkling turn from Andy Griffith as the cantankerous pie-diner owner with a soft spot for Russell. (I didn't even realise that he is still available!)
The film is very winning as it traces the romances of the three co-workers, especially that of frumpy Shelley and her nerdy suitor. It is also extremely colourful as Russell dreams up and creates her fantastic pies. All in all, this is a mouth-watering success.
Saturday, 7 February 2009
Painted Boats (1945) plus a goodie
I haven't written much lately about my friend Richard who has a 13-seat cinema in his garden where he projects a varied selection of films once or twice a month, mainly because we've not been recently (partly down to my excessive transatlantic hopping last year and partly because I have my own copies of some of his choices). However, we returned last Sunday evening, just as our "big" (ho-ho) snow storm was beginning to see the above movie which was certainly both an obscurity and one totally new to me. Its credentials were good, being an early Ealing Studio production by Michael Balcon and the third film to be directed by the venerable Charles Crichton. However from the studio that one associates with sparkling comedies mixed with serious dramas, it was a very mundane affair. Shot on location on the Grand Union Canal, it tells the tale of families who have lived and worked on the canals for generations and how they must adjust their lives to adapt to the more modern world. While this may sound potentially interesting, the acting was pedestrian and the photography adequate at best. A narrator related the action to the history of the canals which gave the film a pseudo-documentary feel, but in the end I felt that I had managed to sit through a not too interesting school lesson. Well, at least I never have to watch it again!
However the evening was far from a wash-out, since Richard chose to screen a short film to fill out the scant 63 minutes above. His choice was "Incident at Owl Creek" (also known as "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge") which I have known about for years, but which had eluded me. This 1963 film is actually French-made though shot in English (albeit mainly ambient sound) and its original title is "La Riviere du Hibou". Based on a short story by the mysterious author Ambrose Bierce who disappeared into the desert, it is set during the American Civil War as a plantation owner is about to be hanged for sabotage by the Union troops. The rope breaks and his bound body falls into the river and we then follow his escape and flight homeward -- until the jolting shock ending, 28 minutes of pure cinema. The film was actually picked up by Rod Sterling and transmitted as an episode of "The Twilight Zone" way back when -- a bit of trivia new to me but as fascinating as this short film itself.
However the evening was far from a wash-out, since Richard chose to screen a short film to fill out the scant 63 minutes above. His choice was "Incident at Owl Creek" (also known as "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge") which I have known about for years, but which had eluded me. This 1963 film is actually French-made though shot in English (albeit mainly ambient sound) and its original title is "La Riviere du Hibou". Based on a short story by the mysterious author Ambrose Bierce who disappeared into the desert, it is set during the American Civil War as a plantation owner is about to be hanged for sabotage by the Union troops. The rope breaks and his bound body falls into the river and we then follow his escape and flight homeward -- until the jolting shock ending, 28 minutes of pure cinema. The film was actually picked up by Rod Sterling and transmitted as an episode of "The Twilight Zone" way back when -- a bit of trivia new to me but as fascinating as this short film itself.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Doubt (2008)
Despite London being ridiculously "snowbound", I have managed to attend another preview for a heavily-praised movie which is about to open and which has garnered no less than four academy award acting nominations for its four main roles (Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, and Viola Davis). The film is directed and written by John Patrick Shanley (also up for a writing award) based on his own stage play and while it is somewhat opened out, it remains a fairly stagey, talky four-hander. In fact it is really not much of a cinematic outing since the few non-verbal images -- feathers filling the air (like irretrievable rumours) and heavy winds -- seem rather forced in the hothouse atmosphere of a Catholic school in the Bronx back in 1964 and the remaining cast with the exception of the school's only black student are ciphers.
However it is the acting which makes the movie. Streep -- whom at one stage in her early career I could barely tolerate -- is remarkable as a nun and the martinet principal who suspects the greatly loved priest Hoffman of abusing the student. Variety was a little dismissive of her performance, comparing her unfavourably with the actress in the stage production and accusing her of underplaying the role. Not having seen the original I can only admire her every vocal inflection and every grimace in her pursuit of bringing him down. One never knows for certain whether Hoffman is guilty as charged, but he too manages to convey a range of emotions by the simplest glances (and I would not have considered his a supporting role as nominated, as his presence is far too important). Adams as the chirpy young nun who wants to think the best of everyone is also something of a revelation given her previous flighty roles. However it is Davis as the boy's mother who manages to convey real feeling and humanity in her brief scene with Streep. Unfortunately I suspect that none of these actors will receive Oscars this year, although Streep richly deserves another. The film manages to convey a wealth of ideas about gossip, narrowmindedness, fear, malevolence, and of course doubt, but none of these would be as forceful were it not for the splendid cast.
However it is the acting which makes the movie. Streep -- whom at one stage in her early career I could barely tolerate -- is remarkable as a nun and the martinet principal who suspects the greatly loved priest Hoffman of abusing the student. Variety was a little dismissive of her performance, comparing her unfavourably with the actress in the stage production and accusing her of underplaying the role. Not having seen the original I can only admire her every vocal inflection and every grimace in her pursuit of bringing him down. One never knows for certain whether Hoffman is guilty as charged, but he too manages to convey a range of emotions by the simplest glances (and I would not have considered his a supporting role as nominated, as his presence is far too important). Adams as the chirpy young nun who wants to think the best of everyone is also something of a revelation given her previous flighty roles. However it is Davis as the boy's mother who manages to convey real feeling and humanity in her brief scene with Streep. Unfortunately I suspect that none of these actors will receive Oscars this year, although Streep richly deserves another. The film manages to convey a wealth of ideas about gossip, narrowmindedness, fear, malevolence, and of course doubt, but none of these would be as forceful were it not for the splendid cast.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Face of Another (1966)
The Japanese director Hiroshi Teshiguhara only made seven feature films and four of these were collaborations with the avant garde novelist Kobo Abe and the modernist composer Turo Takemitsu. Their best-known film in the West is the haunting "Woman of the Dunes" (1964), a Palme d'or winner at Cannes and an Academy Award nominee, but this movie is even more remarkable. There is so much going on and so many different ideas being thrown at the viewer that it would take more than one viewing to try to make sense of the existential whole.
The basic story concerns a researcher whose face has been burned off in a laboratory experiment and who faces the world, including his wife, heavily bandaged. He meets a doctor/psychiatrist who is able to construct a life-like mask based on the face of a young man who has been paid for a cast to be taken; soon this new face begins to exert its pull on its wearer, creating a new personality to go with it. He rents an apartment to use for his parallel life (having previously looked at one in the same building as the masked man), and only the landlord's subnormal daughter can sense that the two are the same man. One of his main desires for his new face is to seduce his wife who has previously rejected his sexual overtures, which he proceeds to do wishing to expose her as a slut, but it does seem apparent that she too knew all along that the young, handsome stranger was in fact her husband. Thereafter, he becomes more and more the new persona, one which the psychiatrist can no longer control and who seems to be losing all moral ties to his old life.
While all this is going on the director moves in and out of a sub-plot concerning a beautiful but scarred young girl who is trying to live with her facial disfigurement, the result of the atom bomb at Nagasaki, and her interaction with the inmates of a mental institution where she apears to live and her need for physical love with her own brother. Both stories are filmed in an impressionistic way which must be seen to be believed with much of the action filmed through laboratory vials and other distorting screens and devices. Occasionally images appear which seem to have no immediate relationship to either story, like a bed floating above the city or a room seen in the distance which appears to be full of hair. And there is an eerie bit toward the end as the protagonists stroll through a crowd of faceless folk.
I somehow feel that I have not done justice to this film which doesn't easily fall into any genre category. It is not quite horror or sci-fi or a mad-scientist flick, but it touches on all of these. Most of all it is a wonderfully filmed philosophic reflection on how our appearance affects our behaviour and how the veneer of our rationality can so easily crumble.
The basic story concerns a researcher whose face has been burned off in a laboratory experiment and who faces the world, including his wife, heavily bandaged. He meets a doctor/psychiatrist who is able to construct a life-like mask based on the face of a young man who has been paid for a cast to be taken; soon this new face begins to exert its pull on its wearer, creating a new personality to go with it. He rents an apartment to use for his parallel life (having previously looked at one in the same building as the masked man), and only the landlord's subnormal daughter can sense that the two are the same man. One of his main desires for his new face is to seduce his wife who has previously rejected his sexual overtures, which he proceeds to do wishing to expose her as a slut, but it does seem apparent that she too knew all along that the young, handsome stranger was in fact her husband. Thereafter, he becomes more and more the new persona, one which the psychiatrist can no longer control and who seems to be losing all moral ties to his old life.
While all this is going on the director moves in and out of a sub-plot concerning a beautiful but scarred young girl who is trying to live with her facial disfigurement, the result of the atom bomb at Nagasaki, and her interaction with the inmates of a mental institution where she apears to live and her need for physical love with her own brother. Both stories are filmed in an impressionistic way which must be seen to be believed with much of the action filmed through laboratory vials and other distorting screens and devices. Occasionally images appear which seem to have no immediate relationship to either story, like a bed floating above the city or a room seen in the distance which appears to be full of hair. And there is an eerie bit toward the end as the protagonists stroll through a crowd of faceless folk.
I somehow feel that I have not done justice to this film which doesn't easily fall into any genre category. It is not quite horror or sci-fi or a mad-scientist flick, but it touches on all of these. Most of all it is a wonderfully filmed philosophic reflection on how our appearance affects our behaviour and how the veneer of our rationality can so easily crumble.
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