Archive for July, 2008

Maria Full of Grace (2004)

One of those eye catching titles.

And an eye-catchingly pretty girl as Maria.

More than pretty – captivating, feisty, gutsy, vulnerable, smart, spirited.

Mainly, there’s no grandstanding or theatrics; the dialogue is functionally realistic; the narrative ordinarily unremarkably low-key. It’s like a Colombian made for TV docudrama. Towards the end there’s some melodramatic crises, and forced resolutions. Mostly it’s all very laudable and credible.

But you’ll be watching this film to know – and care, and hope – that Maria is going to get through, survive, with her life still intact, with spirit undiminished.

I loved her loved look of pure joy when she sees her baby’s heart on the ultrasound.

Dir: Joshua Marston, Colombia/US

Catalina Sandino Moreno as Maria got an Oscar nomination for her performance.

7/10

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Billy Liar (1963)

Tom Courtney about to run off on the midnight train to London with Julie Christie.

Only he doesn’t. You want him to. But he chickens out.

Sir Tom is a (dis)spirited sarky funeral clerk, (Leonard Rossiter is boss Shadrack) with dreams of being somewhere and someone better. “A writer? In London? Don’t talk so bloody wet!

He’s got 3 girls on the go.

Plain prude – “Isn’t that nice?!” – Barbara; Brassy blonde -”You rotten lying cross-eyed git!” – Rita; and Lovely -”She just enjoys herself” – Liz (Julie Christe)

Albert Finney would have been more convincing as the bit-of-rough womaniser; Courtney’s dour effeminate face, thin pursed lips, and weak loopy grin, are more suited to “Making a “bloody laughin stock out of” his bloody dad. Being a cheeky bastard. Up his Northern self. A wannabe. A dreamer. A procrastinator. A waster.

He’s a loser. So he’s sympathetic. You’re rooting for him.

Just pack it in – and grow up” (says fellow funeral clerk Rodney Bewes)

But I didn’t want him to pack it in.

Or grow up.

I like these black & white “New Wave” Brit films of the 60’s loads.

Dir: John Schlesinger, UK

7.5/10

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Bad Education (2004)

Trannies. I often find peculiarly repellent and boringly OTT (this pic is of Gael Garcia Bernal in drag. Very pretty he is too)

Spanish trannies. Very OTT. Cringily camp, amusing i suppose – but still repellent.

Blackmailing trannies. Faggots. Buggering Catholic priests. The whole homosexual sexual shtick.

Hey! – I’m sucking your dick!” says tranny Bernal. “Let me suck him off a bit” says his camper than camp tranny partner in crime.

All in vivid colour. Lurid Gay. Crude and lewd.

There’s something about this too much gayness that is too pantomime damish. Cliched and too blatantly obvious.

Which is why I don’t watch Gay movies much. Which is why i don’t watch Pedro Almodovar much.

This is about as Gay as he/it gets.

But i don’t get Gay.

Watching films like this i realise I’ve tendencies towards being homophobic still.

Dir: Pedro Almodovar, Spain

4/10

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Maborosi (1995)

I’m probably going to be liking this film i thought to myself after about 5 minutes.

Composed silence, still camera, slow melancholy.

The absence of big melodrama and fluffed up feelings.

Everything understated with quiet.

Dim and doom. Subdued colours, dark corners. Gloom hangs over like grief, choking the light out of every scene.

Half way thro though I wanted to turn up the Brightness control.

Not many close-ups, so you don’t quite get to see what feeling faces are having.

It becomes hard to make out clearly, or distinctively, what is visibly going on. The going on is furtively, invisibly, hidden away in shadows on the soul.

I just don’t understand….why did he kill himself?” says young grieving widow. A wise reply: “A strange light – a Mabarosi – far out to sea… beckoning….lost souls… which might happen to anyone…..

This film is a strange drained light.

The Dvd was a drab video transfer; which drained the light even stranger.

Dir: Hirokazu Koreeda, Japan

7/10

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A Woman in Winter: Directors Commentary

This is the great thing about Dvd’s: the “extras” you get can sometimes be more interesting than the film itself.

The chatty commentary Richard Jobson does is entertaining – and kind of revealing: about how much sweat and toil, and commendable effort he went to in the making of his film; and also it reveals that, despite all the “Big Idea’s” and mystical quantum physic profundity he was trying to bring off – how, fatuous and facile his seeming “spiritually” is.

At the end of the film commentary he sums up what he’s been up to:

“I wanted to do something experimental, to play around with narrative, deal with big themes, create a film rich in atmosphere and tone, try new things with the camera and the software so as to create a distinctive visual language, with the ambience via vivid sound design. So as to say something about the spiritual planes we inhabit in the modern age; with the central message being: “all that matters is love”.

All achieved on a very tiny budget! He keeps banging on about how little money he had. It was about £400,000 – which i suppose in film producing terms is a tiny budget (in nitty gritty real life terms tho, I go “What?!!”)

His film was definitely “trying to do something different…. to show how British film can tune into a European sensibility” I’ll give him that. “You’re in a strange existential Art House film” he says. Ok Richard, you wanna be deep. Cool. “It’s ethereal blah”…. and “magical blah blah”…and “magically ethereally blah blah blah” Ok, Richard you wanna be taken seriously, we get it. A “Psychological Sci Fi film influenced by Tarkovsky’s Solaris“. Ok Richard, cut the crap now – You are NOT Tarkovsky!

I was gonna do the whole film in French” (Grrr!. Give him some bleedin Sartre to read for Gawds sake!)

“I have a problem with big dialogue scenes; I want to go somewhere else, layer verbal with visual language, look for an interesting shot, think about the camera, the lighting”. Yes he does. He thinks more about the lighting than what the beauty-rapt faces of his posy actors are actually saying to one another.

“Some people have accused me of being too aware of the camera – but for me cinema is an audio-visual experience, it’s not about people sitting around talking”. No, but at least when they do talk it shouldn’t be such a cringeworthy advertisement for – and you said it Richard! – the pomposity of the story telling i go for”

“So many scripts are dialogue heavy, especially British ones. And British actors come from TV/Theatre and they do too much. I like Movie acting (like the French do) I think he should have just shipped a whole load of French actors over -and got them to speak in “egghisstenchal Ingliss” (ala Daniel Auteuil)

“I didn’t write naturalistic dialogue – it’s lyrical. I want to engage with lyricism without being pretentious”. Sorry Richard, but the dialogue did come across as being pretty pretentious. And i know the 2 main characters were meant to be ghosts (maybe) but they were hollow ghosts, ghosts without much earth about them, or substantial reality, or even – dare i say it – any heart-felt credibility as authentic lovers (of the “love” you want us to believe is the be all and end all – of it all)

The aesthetic pulls it into a complicated layered story, not a simple commercial story. I want to construct scenes with inbuilt ambiguity, with a sense of “where am i?” Well, nobody likes not knowing where i am and getting a bit lost in a maze of ambiguity more than me – but the places you were getting me lost in in your film Richard were somewhere slightly too close to Arsehole.

And when you say, “A little implicit clue there… it all means something (yeah – means to “mean” something) I feel like the something it means has got me lodged right up Yours Richard. Ambiguously lost in a heap of prime pile bullshit.

Still, I’m learning lots about camera gimmickry: slow-mo’s and flash forwards, freeze frames and layering ala photoshop; random fractals and digitized CGI and sudden silences that go black on you before they go Bam!. And scenes lit like photo’s, and shot without reverses or cutaways – so as to make it all seem stylistically experimental.

I want every frame to have its own beauty, to be like a photograph. I want to fetishize the beauty of it” (the frame, the “frozen moment”)

Yes – come to think of it Richard – you do come across as a bit of a fetishist. Something vain, self-regarding and self-consciously “look at me” about your directing. And wanting to style spirituality so that it looks deep and seems meaningful.

A European Auteur Wannabe – that’s Richard Jobson. A Lookalike Resnais.

“A woman in winter” gets nowhere near conveying that

“Humility is the science of sadness”

The sad thing being there is no humility in the film making at all. It’ s all show and showing off, pomposity.

But the less sad thing is, I don’t mind him for it. In fact i kind of like him for it. “Trying to be different”. In a way. Cus at least he’s “having a go”.

6/10

Yes, that’s sad: with commentary his film is more engaging than without. Without it leaves out too much humility….

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A Woman in Winter (2005)

If I’d read the 3 unfavourable reviews online beforehand, I wouldn’t have bothered taking this out of Newton Abbot library.

Oh dear. It’s gonna stink. Oh well.

So, 18 minutes in. It’s not that bad. Not stinking yet. Just a faint odour of bullshit seeping thro, but i can tolerate it.

You ask alodda questions” says lovelorn physicist to “iconic” French actress (she does – too many)

Kiss me?“. Better question. Now we get tasteful touching to piano, slow-moing into cello sex.

Half an hour in and i haven’t fast forwarded yet – in fact i rewind to hear this again: “I came here. I became a ghost. I was not real – until i met you” she says. “Give me your hand” he says, and places it on his chest, “that’s the beat of a ghosts heart“.

The director, Richard Jobson, calls this dialogue non-natural, “lyrical”. Another word for lyrical is “pompous”. And when you add another word, “pretentious” you get – suprise, suprise – “twaddle!”.

Love is your only reason for living. Let love make you real again” Looks alright written, but has a certain twaddle twang to it when said in the film.

Ok, 45 minutes in, portentous scientists are talking about “Reverse Time Theory” – it’s time to start fast forwarding.

How to have a nervous breakdown: jiggery poke about with Time. Be a Quantum Physicist. Or a Quantum Physicist’s girlfriend.

Maybe i should have fast forwarded to the beginning. And before watching not watch. Or not again. Cus i never watched it before. Those 100 minutes of living in a Time Capsule were suspended in a Void. Correction: called Avoid.

Instead, spend that 100 minutes I never had sat in a Black Hole. Of Absurdity. Watching Benny Hill.

Those 3 online reviewers were right with their unfavourability. And soon to be joined by No 4.

Dir: Richard Jobson, UK

It didn’t totally retch tho.

4/10

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Kandahar (2001)

The not very good female lead looking from under her burga.

Burgas’ and beards.

If you want to be an honourable man (i.e. a mullah) grow a beard (or if you can’t, stick a false one on).

If you don’t want to be a dishonourable woman make sure you’re hid under your burga at all times “No man must see my wife’s face“.

Jealous possessive repressive men. That’s what the Taliban are.

Boys rocking back and forth rabidly reciting the Koran. Women rocking back and forth washing by hand. Weeping, wailing. Legless shepherds hopping about hoping for prosthetics.

It’s gonna be a worthy film i thought to myself as i sat down to watch.

But it was dull. Half of the film is spoken in English, half in Farsi. The English half doesn’t work at all; stilted reported commentary recited into a tape recorder by that woman in the pic. Her acting is poor; she’s too self-conscious to be naturally “amatuerish”.

I was suprised – disappointed – in general, by the wooden acting. It seemed like a poorly scripted mock documentary, a hastily thrown together piece of contrived reportage. Not a properly realised filmed “work of art”.

I like Iran films usually. But this one’s a dud.

Dir: Mohsen Makhmalbaf, Iran

4.5/10

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The Lost Son (1999)

Daniel Auteuil yet again. A decent chap.

Ee’s gonna get zose bad man. Kill zem.

A private dick. Got goldfish. Got gun. Got big nose.

Ee’s Ingliss is vari franch.

Everyzing in zis sex world of yonge chuldren iz rottin. Shtinks.

Maybe put on ITV. They like zis sordid pervy paedo shock-horror simple nonzense.

Wat a zilly movi.

Dir: Chris Menges, UK/France

4/10

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Nuts In May (1976)

That’s the Pratt’s singing a song about “Going to the Zoo” to hapless Ray. They’ll want him to join in in a minute.

The Pratts are fundamentalist vegetarian clap-clappy Christians. Candice-Marie writes poems about “Flowers that gwow in spwing“; her Aspergerish Keeth is a humourless number obsessive bore.

Wish you’d stop wushing Keeth” cries Candice-Marie. “Keeth!” But he’s off to do number 8 on his guide book. He knows the Latin names for flowers. He records temperatures daily on a barometer. He chews his food 72 times. He reads The Guinness Book of Records in bed.

Kiss Pwudence” says Candice-Marie. Keeth kisses Pwudence. Pwudence is a glove puppet. Lights out. Life is retentively happy. It’s gonna be 10 days of anal bliss for the Pratts.

Except Finga turns up on his motorbike. With Honk. She’s wearing 5 inch platform heeled white boots.

Hey!, look at them bleedin blubells!” (immortal line that….Lol…)

Finga is an out of work Brummie “plastara“. Honk is a “clericull offisah

Finga gets his ball out. “Hey Honk, on yer head!… Honky!”

Keeth is not impressed. Disgusted he’s retired to his Morris Minor to read maps and fume.

Think he’s a bit of a nutcase” says Ray to Finga.

Not fair is it Keeth?” says Candice-Marie. Keeth is still fuming.

You can’t make a fire here” he barks. “Why nat?” says Finga. “Because you’re breaking campsite rules and regulations” insists Keeth. “How we sposed to cook our bleedin dinna then?” says Finga, “We’ve got sossyjizz”….. “I’m warning you” snarls Keeth, “Now be told”… “Mind yer own bleedin business” jabs Finga.

Keeth comes lunging at him like a maniac with a big stick trying to knock his thick Brummie block off. Then he blubs off into the woods. “Look at him, he’s bleedin crying now!” says Finga, frying his sossyjizz. “He’s cracked!” Oh shurrup!” says Honk.

I’ve seen this “BBC Play for Today” 4 or 5 times now – and it’s still making me laugh (or “loff”)

Grate innit?!” says Finga

Ar. It ay bad.

Dir: Mike Leigh, England

8.5/10

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50 Films

Thats how many I’ve reviewed already in the last 5 months or so.

So it feels like time to take stock.

First thing to say is: just because a film is not made in Hollywood doesn’t necessarily make it a better, more worthwhile film.

Considering I’m self-selecting all the films i watch, its interesting – and even a little dismaying – how much duff stuff I’ve seen. Only about a dozen of these 50 films would have been worth going out to see at a cinema.

Secondly: I haven’t seen anything truly, genuinely, inspiring. Only a couple of films – “Whisky”, and “Alice in the Cities” – might I consider buying in the future – but they aren’t must-have films. They aren’t “Forever” films.

I keep watching – and hoping – to find a Forever film; a film that I want to watch again and again; a film that feels like a friend; a film I feel a belonging to, because its sown itself irreplaceably into the fine fabric of my soul, and become an essential part of my life – “forever”.

Thirdly: I’m getting more aware of the kind of film i seem to take to:

They’re either naturalistic, heart-warming, symbolic parables of a simpler more innocent way to live: “The day i became a woman” (Iran), “The Story of the Weeping Camel” (Mongolia) are 2 examples.

Or they have a languid and laconic stylised “take” on life ala Kaurismaki. I seem to like deadpan, droll, and understated acting; characters that don’t necessarily say a lot, or if they do, say it quietly without over-dramatising their feelings, or performing theatrically expressed emotions.

I want characters to have feelings, to be full of soul; but lets keep the interiorty of the soul where it belongs – inside, and (mostly) private, and not splurging self-indulgent Egotism out at you the whole time.

That said, I prefer character-driven to plot-driven films.

That said, I’ve seen 3 of Kaurismaki’s films and i don’t know that I’d want to see too many more. Once you’ve “got” what he does – that’s it; everything else seems like a repetition of the same minimalistic deadpan drollery.

Maybe that could be said of every “Auter” director who has a distinctive style and definite way of making films (and I include Tarkovsky, Rohmer, Herzog et al too)

Most of the “classic” films I’ve seen seem merely historical; kind of out dated and hoplessly old fashioned; irrelevant to life as it is lived now (Truffuat immediately springs to mind)

I don’t go for genre films at all. I’d much prefer for a film to stand alone as idiosyncratically and stubbornly itself – be genre defying, be outside the conventions of what constitutes say a “Rom-Com”, or a “Thriller” etc.

I’m pretty much against film soundtracks; especially of the swishy orchestral swings kind. I don’t like all that hyped up sugary sentimentality being poured into my ears, and pulling on my heart-strings.

I’ve become increasingly watchful and wary – of how manipulative films are; all the jumping about with POV, the fast cutting and editing, the way that so-called suspense is contrived into the story telling so as to get you lurching forward to what happens next (rather than simply being with what is happening, and being seen, “now”)

So what is it i want to experience when i watch a film?

Well, not spoon-fed easy escapism or being passively entertained. Too often I’ve felt hollowed out by the superficiality of facile “fodder” like that.

I don’t mind being “challenged” (ala Tarkovsky, or Bela Tarr – who i haven’t seen anything by yet, but I think he’s going to take me out of my comfort zone) Probably – more than challenged – i like to be “charmed”. I want a film to charm me into its world. So as to feel inspired enough to come back into my own world again – and live life “more”.

With more heart. And a wish to connect.

I don’t want watching films to disconnect me from my life; to be arid, abstract exercises in how to be more clever “about” life.

A film needs to feel like it’s representing “life” itself: real life, authentic experience, genuine expression, coming from integrity – and with heart.

I’ll put a lot of myself into watching if a film is giving something that feels truthful, something true; and not just something that’s been made up and contrived to get you into customer and consumer mode: the main aim being to get you – me – the unthinking Joe Public, into buying tickets, products, merchandise. Drugged – all of us – into sleepy acquiscent forgetfulness.

Ok, that’ll do for now.

No doubt I’ll have more to say later (at the 100 film milestone!….Lol….)

These are all thoughts in progress.

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