Hey film buffs! What's it called when you have those long still takes where the camera doesn't move? The Hidden method of dispassionate, objective observation? Lots of that in this here film. Isn't it clever! And boy are some of the frames of decaying urban wasteland just... beautiful.
I do like my eastern European arthouse films about immigration. OK, no I don't, but I did like this one. Because it wasn't just about immigration. It was about everything. The closest comparison that springs to mind is Magnolia, except this wasn't set in LA. Everything is much grimier, much more desperate. It's all sex for money and macho posturing and ignorant parents and brutal bosses.
But it's not just about liberal guilt-tripping. Like Magnolia, this film retains a sense of the ridiculous -- our crazy foibles, suspicions, whimsies, desires. Many of its darkest scenes are almost absurd in their darkness. The pathetic dweeb shouting at the web-cam pornstar. The jealous nurse manically assaulting the immigrant cleaner. There is a lightness amid the darkness. A hope and a delight that can be a part of even the bleakest human experience.
Also, you know, religion and loss of faith. Some of the scenes in the old people's home are... poetic is the word to use. The bedridden, emaciated patients look like dreaming prophets of a kingdom that can't come soon enough. It's superbly fitting that the film ends with them talking mindlessly in the darkness. Like I said: it's about everything.
Sure beats the hell out of Solomon Kane, I can tell you...
27.2.10
26.2.10
Los Campesinos!
...started their band four years ago because they were bored, Gareth tells us, and now they are playing London's KOKO. Gareth thanks everyone he can think of, but finally, ultimately, thanks the audience for coming, for making this possible. And that earnest, naked 'I love you' is gladly, gleefully, rousingly returned a hundred fold. The band bask, grinning. Gareth exchanges a little look with Tom to his left, and they play on. Moment of the night.
I'm not being funny, there's something of the Mick Jagger in Gareth's on-stage antics: the passion, the sex-appeal, the confidence, the absolute belief in what he is singing about. And he can sing! Croon, even! What a front man! The rest of the band kinda fade into the background.
Also, I must have been sniffing glue when I wrote this.
I'm not being funny, there's something of the Mick Jagger in Gareth's on-stage antics: the passion, the sex-appeal, the confidence, the absolute belief in what he is singing about. And he can sing! Croon, even! What a front man! The rest of the band kinda fade into the background.
Also, I must have been sniffing glue when I wrote this.
24.2.10
Solomon Kane
Conan the Barbarian in 17th century England, basically. At times it feels like you are watching RPG cut-scenes strung together into a film. Also, NO LAUGHS, which is a huge problem with something as silly as this. Kane is taken extraordinarily seriously for what is a shoddy b-movie. Be that as it may, I can't bring myself to hate the film. I like it when b-movies try and be serious. And Kane does spin its doomed anti-hero seeking redemption set-up into something rather profound, about the difficulty of sticking to an absolute (religious) morality in an evil world. A shame the film bottled it at the end. Kane should not have been 'saved'. There is no redemption for killing people. And yet the world forces us to. Kane should have emerged from the epic showdown still damned but with his future open, riding into a sunset that promised fresh opportunities to atone for his past. Perhaps riding into a sequel as well.
It tried to be clever, but it wasn't clever enough. And I say again, NO LAUGHS. So if you don't like Conan, there really is nothing for you here.
It tried to be clever, but it wasn't clever enough. And I say again, NO LAUGHS. So if you don't like Conan, there really is nothing for you here.
19.2.10
Casanova: Luxuria
It's not all surface, apparently. But I'm not clever enough to see beyond the surface, so that's where I'm going to have to start.
And the surface gets more fun with each issue. The first couple are a little shaky, with some infuriating script slip-ups that make the reading rather more confusing than it should be. I'll give an example that illustrates my horrible pedantry as much as the flaws in the writing:
'He's impressed by confidence and someone not kissing his ass is novel'
Either scrap the last two words, or put a comma after 'confidence'. I swear I read that line about five times before I understood how it was supposed to read.
There's the thing. Casanova's script is busy, and in the first two or so issues it gets quite clogged up and difficult. The funnies don't really take off (I have a similar problem with Gillen's S.W.O.R.D.) This may just be about me being obtuse. But then again, there is a definite pick up as the series went on. By the final two issues, the madness started working for me. I started laughing at the zingers. Did the comic start balancing the clever and silly better? Or did I just finally learn how to read the thing? I honestly don't know.
But really now, is it about very much? A lot of wacky ideas get thrown up (sex dolls, colonialism, meta) but the turnover is so fast, nothing sticks. The only thing I can latch on to is the protagonist's family drama. And amid all the insanity, I can't really feel the emotional punches Cass takes.
Just a sidenote on the art. I'm a terrible judge in this area, but I liked it. Ba does the retro sci-fi sexy poppy silliness very well. It's a good fit with Fraction's hyperactive writing.
Apparently, a revelation awaits at the end of the second volume. A clarity. Of purpose? I'm curious enough to go find out...
And the surface gets more fun with each issue. The first couple are a little shaky, with some infuriating script slip-ups that make the reading rather more confusing than it should be. I'll give an example that illustrates my horrible pedantry as much as the flaws in the writing:
'He's impressed by confidence and someone not kissing his ass is novel'
Either scrap the last two words, or put a comma after 'confidence'. I swear I read that line about five times before I understood how it was supposed to read.
There's the thing. Casanova's script is busy, and in the first two or so issues it gets quite clogged up and difficult. The funnies don't really take off (I have a similar problem with Gillen's S.W.O.R.D.) This may just be about me being obtuse. But then again, there is a definite pick up as the series went on. By the final two issues, the madness started working for me. I started laughing at the zingers. Did the comic start balancing the clever and silly better? Or did I just finally learn how to read the thing? I honestly don't know.
But really now, is it about very much? A lot of wacky ideas get thrown up (sex dolls, colonialism, meta) but the turnover is so fast, nothing sticks. The only thing I can latch on to is the protagonist's family drama. And amid all the insanity, I can't really feel the emotional punches Cass takes.
Just a sidenote on the art. I'm a terrible judge in this area, but I liked it. Ba does the retro sci-fi sexy poppy silliness very well. It's a good fit with Fraction's hyperactive writing.
Apparently, a revelation awaits at the end of the second volume. A clarity. Of purpose? I'm curious enough to go find out...
18.2.10
Ponyo
Magical, as you would expect. It's almost funny how comprehensively Miyazaki annihilates every other animated film ever made. The man is a wizard. A bona fide miracle-worker.
Ponyo is about growing up -- a little girl who is smothered by her father, who does not care about the duties he must perform, who runs away to explore the world. All fine, but I'm a little uneasy about the ending. There is a 'marriage', where the 'husband' is tested to see if his devotion is genuine. If he is ready to be responsible, then Ponyo will lose her magical nature (read: 'innocence') and join the real world. If he isn't, and gives Ponyo back to her father, she will die and the world will end. I'm slightly uncomfortable with how little agency Ponyo has in this process. She is in a bucket passed from her father to her 'husband'. But maybe I am mental and read into things a bit too much.
The kiddy stuff is wonderful, but what is really special about the film is Lisa. A fully realised adult character in a children's film -- when do you ever see that? Perhaps the most affecting moment (of many) is when Sōsuke comforts his pissed-off mother after she learns that her husband has shipped out again without returning home. There is a tension in this adult marriage. The 'responsible husband' and 'caring wife' ideal set out between Sōsuke and Ponyo isn't without its problems once it becomes a living reality. You get distance. Husbands (and fathers) are too busy being responsible to look after their family. Perhaps Miyazaki has used this adult relationship to critique the idealism of the kiddy relationship? Am I just being mental?
Ponyo is about growing up -- a little girl who is smothered by her father, who does not care about the duties he must perform, who runs away to explore the world. All fine, but I'm a little uneasy about the ending. There is a 'marriage', where the 'husband' is tested to see if his devotion is genuine. If he is ready to be responsible, then Ponyo will lose her magical nature (read: 'innocence') and join the real world. If he isn't, and gives Ponyo back to her father, she will die and the world will end. I'm slightly uncomfortable with how little agency Ponyo has in this process. She is in a bucket passed from her father to her 'husband'. But maybe I am mental and read into things a bit too much.
The kiddy stuff is wonderful, but what is really special about the film is Lisa. A fully realised adult character in a children's film -- when do you ever see that? Perhaps the most affecting moment (of many) is when Sōsuke comforts his pissed-off mother after she learns that her husband has shipped out again without returning home. There is a tension in this adult marriage. The 'responsible husband' and 'caring wife' ideal set out between Sōsuke and Ponyo isn't without its problems once it becomes a living reality. You get distance. Husbands (and fathers) are too busy being responsible to look after their family. Perhaps Miyazaki has used this adult relationship to critique the idealism of the kiddy relationship? Am I just being mental?
16.2.10
Youth in Revolt
...which I ended up seeing instead of Ponyo today. Every mother and child in north London turned up at the Wood Green cineplex to watch the latter, so my fellow film-goers and I settled for the former. The last time this happened, it was fortuitous -- instead of Avatar I saw Sherlock Holmes, which was great. This time, although the screening room we ended up in was LUSH, I was less lucky. Youth in Revolt was a bust.
Four problems, in ascending order of grievousness. First, Michael Cera is not only typecast but genrecast. The kook for kook's sake is finally starting to grate on me too. I think back to Garden State and Juno, which had enough charm and laughs to win you over to their sideways look at the world. This had neither. There were a few chuckles, true, but nothing that substantially enlivened the story. And Vijay was the only character who charmed me (because he's British? Perhaps...) Man, when did the indiefilm sensibility get so dull?
Second. Sheeni Saunders. Love interest. Mysterious. Unknowable. Blank. Character-less. A cipher. Offensive?
Third. The final scene attempted to force through the message that getting the girl is all about being yourself, except that the rest of the film tended to suggest the exact opposite. It looked like tearing shit up and being a badass was the key to Sheeni's heart. Who does she fall in love with, Twisp or Francois? More importantly, WHY?
And we come to the film's final crime. There is a bulimic outcast character called Bernice, who is made into a villain even though her only crime is being ruthlessly taken advantage of by Cera. His deception is really quite unforgivable, and yet he is forgiven. The film's misfit lovebirds trample all over the real misfit. What happens to Bernice is just mean. Cera isn't likable at all after that, even if he is wearing a dress! The film's misfit-solidarity stance is a sham. Cera is actually a really horrible human being. And his girl isn't enough of a real person to notice.
The more I think about it, the more disagreeable it becomes. Hopefully, Miyazaki will provide a good antidote...
Four problems, in ascending order of grievousness. First, Michael Cera is not only typecast but genrecast. The kook for kook's sake is finally starting to grate on me too. I think back to Garden State and Juno, which had enough charm and laughs to win you over to their sideways look at the world. This had neither. There were a few chuckles, true, but nothing that substantially enlivened the story. And Vijay was the only character who charmed me (because he's British? Perhaps...) Man, when did the indiefilm sensibility get so dull?
Second. Sheeni Saunders. Love interest. Mysterious. Unknowable. Blank. Character-less. A cipher. Offensive?
Third. The final scene attempted to force through the message that getting the girl is all about being yourself, except that the rest of the film tended to suggest the exact opposite. It looked like tearing shit up and being a badass was the key to Sheeni's heart. Who does she fall in love with, Twisp or Francois? More importantly, WHY?
And we come to the film's final crime. There is a bulimic outcast character called Bernice, who is made into a villain even though her only crime is being ruthlessly taken advantage of by Cera. His deception is really quite unforgivable, and yet he is forgiven. The film's misfit lovebirds trample all over the real misfit. What happens to Bernice is just mean. Cera isn't likable at all after that, even if he is wearing a dress! The film's misfit-solidarity stance is a sham. Cera is actually a really horrible human being. And his girl isn't enough of a real person to notice.
The more I think about it, the more disagreeable it becomes. Hopefully, Miyazaki will provide a good antidote...
15.2.10
Four films
Past two days, one of my doubting friends has treated me to some of the films in his collection, and to my endless annoyance, I've liked all of them. The Man Who Would Be King may have treated women as commodities (when they were present at all), but the camaraderie between Michael Caine and Sean Connery was winning. Casablanca was a very well put together melodrama, not quite as revelatory as I expected, but great to finally find out what all the references were referring to.
Last night we watched West Side Story, because my friend was a big fan of the music. I don't know anything about music, but as a film, ultimately, yes. Colourful sets and crane shots galore. A brilliant build at the beginning. Very nice Pietà scene at the end.
However, there is something about the musical form that I just can't buy into. I think the argument FOR it runs like this: it deals in these emotionally charged stories where the feelings involved are so monumental that the characters have no choice but to burst into song. This may work elsewhere, but with West Side Story, the songs didn't amplify the emotion for me. They drained it away. This may have something to do with the weak leads. But it may be something else too. Romeo and Juliet is actually quite a complex tale, and to have it structured around songs with very simple themes distorts it significantly. You have grieving characters who have to suddenly switch to being in love, or being cool, or whatever, when another song begins. Those jarring contrasts meant I couldn't be swept up in it all.
All that said, a lot of the crowd sequences were terrific. The rape scene didn't get as out of hand as the stage version (my doubting friend tells me) but the message was got pretty well -- really quite disturbing. The junior delinquent scene was very funny, and very clever (note: must check out this Sondheim character). 'America' and I Feel Pretty' were the two songs I recognised from elsewhere, and both were also very enjoyable. So pretty much a win overall.
To add further insult to injury, my doubting friend's record is even better than that. A while ago, a bunch of us watched Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid at his instigation. Again, the female character lacked a certain something -- 'I'll darn your socks and do anything you say as long as I don't have to watch you die' does not make for great characterization. But again, the chemistry between Newman and Redford was a treat.
What's remarkably strange about the film is that it's a straight-up western for the majority of the time, and yet there are these two surreal intervals where it is transformed into something completely different. My friends found the experiment charming, though personally I could have done without.
The thing I liked about it was that it was a film of two halves, both with their own separate themes. The first is the standard western idea of the cowboy killed by the march of civilization. Very good, but after the confounding montage sequence, we are relocated to South America and a new theme comes to prominence: the search for transcendence, that can only ever end in death. That final scene between Butch and Sundance was really something. It distilled everything that was great about the movie. And what an ending! Bullets, blood and glory.
And all I had to offer was a re-watch of Serenity. Oh, and Starship Troopers, which my doubting friend grudgingly liked after a lot of cajoling. Still, it's four-one. I seriously need to up my game...
Last night we watched West Side Story, because my friend was a big fan of the music. I don't know anything about music, but as a film, ultimately, yes. Colourful sets and crane shots galore. A brilliant build at the beginning. Very nice Pietà scene at the end.
However, there is something about the musical form that I just can't buy into. I think the argument FOR it runs like this: it deals in these emotionally charged stories where the feelings involved are so monumental that the characters have no choice but to burst into song. This may work elsewhere, but with West Side Story, the songs didn't amplify the emotion for me. They drained it away. This may have something to do with the weak leads. But it may be something else too. Romeo and Juliet is actually quite a complex tale, and to have it structured around songs with very simple themes distorts it significantly. You have grieving characters who have to suddenly switch to being in love, or being cool, or whatever, when another song begins. Those jarring contrasts meant I couldn't be swept up in it all.
All that said, a lot of the crowd sequences were terrific. The rape scene didn't get as out of hand as the stage version (my doubting friend tells me) but the message was got pretty well -- really quite disturbing. The junior delinquent scene was very funny, and very clever (note: must check out this Sondheim character). 'America' and I Feel Pretty' were the two songs I recognised from elsewhere, and both were also very enjoyable. So pretty much a win overall.
To add further insult to injury, my doubting friend's record is even better than that. A while ago, a bunch of us watched Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid at his instigation. Again, the female character lacked a certain something -- 'I'll darn your socks and do anything you say as long as I don't have to watch you die' does not make for great characterization. But again, the chemistry between Newman and Redford was a treat.
What's remarkably strange about the film is that it's a straight-up western for the majority of the time, and yet there are these two surreal intervals where it is transformed into something completely different. My friends found the experiment charming, though personally I could have done without.
The thing I liked about it was that it was a film of two halves, both with their own separate themes. The first is the standard western idea of the cowboy killed by the march of civilization. Very good, but after the confounding montage sequence, we are relocated to South America and a new theme comes to prominence: the search for transcendence, that can only ever end in death. That final scene between Butch and Sundance was really something. It distilled everything that was great about the movie. And what an ending! Bullets, blood and glory.
And all I had to offer was a re-watch of Serenity. Oh, and Starship Troopers, which my doubting friend grudgingly liked after a lot of cajoling. Still, it's four-one. I seriously need to up my game...
14.2.10
Demo
I should love it more. Standalone stories about oppressed young adults? Becky Cloonan? Right up my alley. I guess my problem is that the stories are so slight. They're too surface. They don't get at anything deeper. They don't really go beyond themselves. I read them and then I pretty much forget them.
I'm not dissing. Demo is very good comics. More comics need to be like Demo. I'll certainly keep reading. There are enough immediate delights for me to stay interested. And there is always the possibility that Brian Wood will blow me away with the next installment. Still. Something just isn't clicking. And the first episode of the new series.... beautiful and everything. But so slight.
I'm not dissing. Demo is very good comics. More comics need to be like Demo. I'll certainly keep reading. There are enough immediate delights for me to stay interested. And there is always the possibility that Brian Wood will blow me away with the next installment. Still. Something just isn't clicking. And the first episode of the new series.... beautiful and everything. But so slight.
13.2.10
Dracula
...the love story. Regarded as possibly Coppola's worst film. So naturally, I rather liked it. Ravishing, gorgeous, like a Perfume made twenty years ago, but with a Burton gothikk edge and Tom Waits playing a crazy man. Even with Keanu and Winona's blank expressions, I found the hammy horror-ness of it all enormous fun. And if you can look past the dodgy prosthetics and effects, Coppola does throw some wonderful images at you. And what about Gary Oldman playing 'Draculle', eh? Perfect choice. Weird looking and freakazoid, and yet dripping with sex-appeal. And Antony Hopkins was less the assured adventurer of the book and more dangerous madman, who sees 'Draculle' less as a demon and more as a rival. Very nice idea. And Hopkins... well we all know he can do mad pretty well.
Also, themes. Coppola may well have been trying to say something, or at least stay faithful to the emphases of vampire and gothic fiction: the limits of rationality, the repressed nature of civilized man, the allure and danger of sexual desire. The love story that develops and the strange redemptive ending were more baffling. But then again, we still got to see Oldman as this crazed orgasaming Jesus with a sexed-up Magdalene sucking at the wound in his ribs. That kind of blasphemy is worth the price of admission all by itself. No?
Also, themes. Coppola may well have been trying to say something, or at least stay faithful to the emphases of vampire and gothic fiction: the limits of rationality, the repressed nature of civilized man, the allure and danger of sexual desire. The love story that develops and the strange redemptive ending were more baffling. But then again, we still got to see Oldman as this crazed orgasaming Jesus with a sexed-up Magdalene sucking at the wound in his ribs. That kind of blasphemy is worth the price of admission all by itself. No?
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