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|119 reviews in total|
Maidens is a type of film I usually hate - feminist, happy-clappy, holistic... di-da-di-da. But it is , by turns, fascinating, intriguing, enlightening, lyrical, profoundly moving and ultimately euphoric. It reminds me, in a strange way of another 'documentary' - 'The Ballad of Crowfoot'. It preaches, yes, but in a celebratory not a censorious, way. In a year (2011/12) when the cinema has seen, in 'The Tree of Life' a masterpiece - the masterpiece of my life - based on the simple question 'who am I' and, by extension - of the audience, who are you?, this film with so little resources and in a quiet and unpretentious way, asks the same question. It is not only for women, nor only for new-age liberals, it is a wonderful reflection on the way that one's ancestors, knowingly or unknowingly shape one's life. Thank you Jeni Thornley.
Carnage is, in many ways, a companion piece to his other major play adaptation, 'Death and the Maiden', based on the work by Ariel Dorfman. The two works also share a common situation of two people/groups at loggerheads over an issue which at first seems cut and dried, but gradually unravels as tempers start to fray. Add to that the noticeable similarity between the characters played by Jodie Foster here and Sigourney Weaver in the earlier film, and Polanski does rather seem to be repeating himself. That having been said, Carnage has plenty of things going for it - especially a truly vicious sense of humour that allows us to squeal with laughter as these two appallingly mismatched couples gradually lose their sang froid while attempting to come to some agreement over how to deal with the injury that one of their sons caused to the son of the other pair. Polanski delights in taking sideswipes at several idiocies of modern life, and the tyranny of mobile phones in particular. It is interesting also to reflect on the similarities to some of the director's earliest films - 'Cul de Sac', for example, which features two couples equally as bonkers as those in this film. Worth going out to see, but not the scale and ambition that one hopes for from Polanski but the ironic coda is magnificent.
The first thing to say about 'The Tree of Life' is that it is ESSENTIAL
VIEWING for anyone who believes that the cinema is a great art, and an
early front-runner for 'Film of the Decade'. I first heard about this
project in the early 80s when the film world was awash with rumours
that Malick had a project that was 'Cosmic, too cosmic even for
Hollywood' (John Sayles). And, being a number one fan of Malick's
magical realism, I have been metaphorically holding my breath ever
Normally, in describing a film one says this is the story of... da da da da. But this film is NOT a story in any but the crudest sense of the word. It is an impression... an impression of a childhood - perhaps Malick's own childhood, which becomes, through Malick's poetry, an impression of childhood itself... of being tactile, of feeling the love of one's parents, of experiencing the arrival of a sibling, of learning to walk... of a thousand things that we take for granted, but are wonderful and shape us more than we can imagine. It is by far the most brilliant evocation of rural childhood that, as far as I can remember, the cinema has ever given us.
This is a film of gesture and movement, of happiness and insecurity, of learning to love and learning to fear. It is unlike any commercial film I have ever seen.... it is as if Stan Brakhage had been given a $100 million budget. The trouble is that Malick may have been too uncompromising. Many, perhaps, sadly, most, of the film-going public, in my experience, find abstraction in films difficult. This is the most abstract film most of them will probably ever see... but it's wonderful and moving and visually stunning. So the question is will they stick with it. With immense sadness, I have to say that I have my doubts.
The much vaunted 'history of the universe' sequence is stunning and is like a poetic editing of all of the most stunning images from science documentaries. It adds even more gravitas to a film that is as philosophically weighty as it is visually impressive. Douglas Trumbull was a special effects consultant and many might immediately think of comparing this sequence with the 'Stargate' climax of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
The film's philosophical/metaphysical weight rests, to some large extent on its deeply ingrained spirituality. Of course, this aspect has been there from the beginning with Malick, but here it is much more up-front. The film charts the paths of a family of characters. In the mother's opening line of dialogue she recounts how 'The nuns told us that there are two ways through life, the way of Nature and the way of Grace.' In the film, the characters show how much the difference between these two paths influences the personalities of the characters and the lives that they lead.
Because of this, it has a profound religious sense but without trace of piety or sentimentality. And if, like me, religion is not your thing, don't worry, the film's wonders do not require belief to reveal themselves.
There remains to be said a few words on Malick's stylistic approach. All of his films are incredibly visually rich, 'The Tree of Life' is no exception. But more important even than this is that large sections of 'The Tree of Life' are made in the magical style that he monumentalised in the two 'abstract' sections of 'The New World' - the love affair between Capt Smith & Pocahontas and the amazing final 20 minutes of the film covering her death. It is this fusion of magnificent meaningful imagery and musical montage that lifts this work to levels barely conceived of by most filmmakers.
'The Tree of Life', for all its wonders, is certainly not perfect as it seems again that Malick's dislike for dialogue has become a thorn in his side, as it was for 'Days of Heaven' and we get some embarrassing pauses as characters wordlessly confront one another or stare meaningfully into the void. It is not the matchless masterpiece to challenge 'Citizen Kane' that I was secretly hoping for, but it is wondrous and moving and unforgettable, a staggering piece of cinema that gives the impression of being immensely more meaningful than it appears at first sight... one just needs to put all of the pieces together... not in the narrative sense, for there is barely any narrative, but connecting up Malick's, 'universal' vision with the images of childhood that he presents. An example here is the confrontation between the two dinosaurs that has a resonance with the relationship between young Jack and his father.
All in all, this is one of those films, where it is more important to let one's psyche experience the incredible richness of the film's emotions, than to try to understand it intellectually - at first viewing, at any rate! (And I am sure that Malick would concur about the experience versus understanding conundrum.)
Finally... it is a very, very good idea to watch 'The New World' immediately before seeing 'The Tree of Life' - on DVD or VOD (if it is not being shown locally by some insightful cinema) because, stylistically, it puts you in the 'right groove' to appreciate Malick's cinematic expression... perhaps THE wonder of modern cinema.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Though I have loved watching Shakespeare plays both in the theatre and
on film, I rarely watch them on TV. Just a few months ago, I decided to
buy the BBC Shakespeare DVDs and watch the Bard's entire works in a
systematic way (with the tome of the RSC Shakespeare at my side). So
this is the first, as I have decided to watch the history plays
chronologically (by history) before going on to the comedies and
From my RSC Shakespeare I learn that, in the early 17th Century, this play was regarded as one of Shakespeare's finest... more so than Hamlet, for example. How times change. Perhaps it is because of the way in which the body politic has changed so much that the petty squabbles of nations seem tawdry these days.
It seems to me that this play (full title 'The Life & Death of King John') is subtler and more interesting than other reviewers have suggested. The subject is, in essence, the nature of 'kingship' and the qualities that it requires, and the nature of 'legitimacy' in that and other respects. The uncertain legitimacy of the seat of King John on the throne of England is brilliantly echoed in the somewhat prefatory scene in which John is required to make judgement on the claim of the younger son of Philip 'the Bastard' to be his father's heir. John, as portrayed by Leonard Rossiter (and written by Shakespeare) is a vacillating, self-serving knave, lacking confidence, but seeking to fulfil his royal charge. There are interesting parallels drawn, as well between the role of the Pope in the affairs of England in this epoch and that at the time of the Spanish Armada. Shakespeare being Shakespeare, in spite of the certain impression that the Papal legate is meddling where he shouldn't, he is no cardboard cut-out villain, and shown, finally, to be powerless.
It is certainly the case the 'the Bastard' has many of the best lines, and it is tempting to conclude that he represents, for Shakespeare, the innate nobility of the English people. But it is somewhat disturbing to think of the moral implications of one of his most memorable couplets...
'Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back
When gold and silver becks me to come on.'
Is Shakespeare really saying that money and not conscience should be the sole rationale for action?
As 'The Bastard' George Costigan is fine, but an actor of the quality of James McAvoy or Tobey Maguire is really required for this role 'on film'. The disappointment for me was Claire Bloom. Pace other contributors, I do not consider her part 'unactable' - indeed Constance is arguably the strongest part in the play, but she doesn't strike the right balance between displaying emotion and speaking the lines - preferring the elegance of Shakespeares words to the force with which they demand to be spoken. On this occasion the iambic pentameter is not the most important thing. I blame here the director more than the actress, as several of her speeches *demand* close-ups and we get none.
But this is simply carping perhaps, I would not dissuade any lover of Shakespeare from watching this fascinating production.
Best of all is the most harrowing scene in the play where Hubert is about to gouge out the eyes of the unfortunate young Prince Arthur.
Hubert: If I talk to him, with his innocent prate / He will awake my mercy which lies dead
Forget all these plethora of films about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Bard here trumps every other shot at defining the relation between the torturer and the tortured. (But we wouldn't, realistically, expect anything else, would we?)
Finally, one might ask why, in spite of my enthusiasm, the work gets only six stars... it is simply that there is precious little attempt to illuminate Shakespeare's moral ambiguities with visual expression. Olivier 'Henry V', yes, but that had Agincourt as a coda, and Olivier's camera placement was immensely more articulate than is the case here. And, of course, we are not in the same universe as Welles' sublime expressions of Shakespeare on film.
I feel somewhat guilty writing the following as for so much of the
time, I find myself decrying the huge majority of films these days that
eschew visual expression for flat and boring dialogue-based narrative.
What we have in Bright Star is a beautiful attempt to capture on film the plethora of emotions and complexities which ensue from the passion of a fairly ordinary young woman for a genius. Her desire to understand, her frustration at being required to uphold the moral norms of the era when her whole self wishes to be immersed in the object of her passion.
And Jane Campion has made her best film since the amazing 'Sweetie'. Forget 'The Piano', 'Bright Star' is on an altogether higher plane, both thematically and cinematically. The director's method is to reflect the poetics of Keats with a visual poetic - full of sensual images, awareness of nature - but not in any clichéd 'pretty-pretty' way.
Colour too, is exquisitely managed, and the arrangement of characters and objects frequently take on the grandeur of classic paintings. And the montage/editing is a joy to behold, cutting not just to advance the narrative, but to draw, sometimes, amazingly profound parallels between disparate parts of the story.
Nor has the director been let down by her actors in any significant way. Ben Wishaw is brilliant as Keats, suggesting a wonderful combination of worldliness and other-worldliness, passion, fear, joy, insouciance. All are there in this performance in abundance. Abby Corniche is fine for most of the time, but, given that it is her story, not perhaps quite 'there'. But Paul Schneider makes a fabulous Brown all bumble and bluster, but, when push comes to shove, able to show weakness and profound guilt.
So it must be a masterpiece... Regrettably not, and it pains my heart to say it. This is a love story, one of the great true classic tragic love stories of the 19th Century. Yes, we feel the love of these two people, the one for the other, from time to time, but somehow, for me at least, the emotion is diffused in 'something' - I know not what - it (the emotion) for the most part, just doesn't cohere.
That doesn't make the film a failure, nor does it mean that I cannot recommend it, just that Campion was on the edge of something quite transcendental, but she stepped back from the brink, and that is sad.
While being a great enthusiast of French cinema, I hadn't heard of Francis Veber when I saw this magnificent comedy in 1989. Unfortunately his wonderful films were never released in the UK, until 'Le Dîner des Cons'. So I came to it fresh... and WOW. Here we have Nick Nolte in a perfect role as the tough former bank robber and Martin Short as the perfect nerdish but determined sidekick. The opening bank robbery sequence, that sets up the film is magnificent and hilarious. The sub-plot involving the little girl is sweet and moving - almost worthy of Chaplin. The loopy vet is amazing and one of his scenes had me crawling on the floor with laughter. I could start analysing the structure or the mise en scène, but such sophistry is irrelevant - just see it and laugh out loud like you will rarely have done so before. (Amazingly I haven't seen the original with Depardieu and Pierre Richard... why don't they release a subtitled version?????)
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Nothing that Woody Allen does in the rest of his career is going to
alter that fact that he will be regarded as one of the greatest
American directors of all time - one of a mere handful who have
presented a unique world-view in their films.... However, our
wonderful, wonderful Woody has seemed to be on a decline for some
time... certainly since 'Deconstructing Harry' and perhaps before...
And yet every new Woody movie contains real insight into the human condition, it's just that he doesn't seem to be bothered to wrap them up in the near perfect packages that we saw in 'Manhattan', 'Hannah' and 'Crimes and Misdemeanors'.
Here we have a case in point. Love and responsibility is the subject - it is in all of Woody's best films. Vicky is conventional and reserved, Cristina is flighty and adventurous... But hey! Cupid can soon start turning things around...
It was one of the great disappointments of the latter half of Fellini's career that, for the most part - even just after 'Giulietta degli Spiriti' - he seemed to forget about the rigour of script-writing and narrative expression. It was as if her was saying 'people will come to see a Fellini film even if I don't bother my head too much.' It was the same with Godard - only for very different reasons. I wonder if, perhaps, Woody has got tired of all of the effort needed to hone his ideas into the near-perfect packages of earlier times. It could be that the title of his new film 'Whatever Works' - is a signal that the search for perfection has been replaced for the search for 'whatever works'.
As has been noted in an interesting thread on the board for this film, one of the main problems with this film is the narration. This is strange, as Woody can turn voice-over narration into pure gold (think of his poignant narration for 'Annie Hall'), perhaps, the real problem is that it isn't Woody who is narrating... it is some faceless narrator with a smug voice.
For me Woody is the comic Shakespeare of our age. I do so hope that he has a 'Winter's Tale' or a 'The Tempest' left in him... Regrettably this isn't it... even though it knocks spots off the awful 'Cassandra's Dream'.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
As an undemanding way to spend a couple of hours, I have no objection
to this film at all, and, yes, it has some fun dialogue and 'clever'
But it is the need to put the word 'clever' in quotation marks that is the painful part. It has happened at least once before - in 'A Bug's Life', which must have had Kurosawa spinning in his grave. Here we have a film that shamelessly plagiarises a great film - 'The Wizard of Oz'.
No? Post-pubescent child is under threat and put upon. During a hazardous escapade he/she is injured and, in his/her mind taken away to a magical kingdom where he/she will need the help of some of its inhabitants (who bear an uncanny resemblance to persons in the real world). There he/she will have to overcome the evil machinations of a sorcerer/ess before realising that all he/she wants to do is to go home, ('I just want to go home/There's no place like home') where he/she will be a much wiser person.
Will the representatives of Frank Baum's estate, or MGM or whoever, please sue the insides out of these people. Pure and wonderful films/stories like 'The Wizard of Oz' should not be stolen and distorted to make crass rubbish such as this. It is an abomination.
Message to John Fusco (the 'writer')... if you are so unoriginal and incompetent that you have to steal the themes and structures of great films, find another job! I note in his biography that he dropped out of high school. It figures.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Marco Ferreri, during this era, made several films that had highly
ambiguous endings, where optimism and pessimism were both raised to
great heights and made barely distinguishable one from another.
Previously he has made 'Ciao Maschio' (Bye-Bye Monkey) which left Jane
Fonda sitting on the beach with a new baby looking at the ruins of her
Here Ferreri is in less iconoclastic mood, but still the ironies pile up to a heart-stopping finale. What this film asks is the agonising question 'Do we, by educating children, remove from them that which makes them wonderful?' Of course, there is more than that, but, when push comes to shove, that is what the film is about.
There may be a more Jungian film, but I don't know of it. Here we have 'liberal' primary school teacher Roberto (Bengini) on a collision course with the 'authorities'. We have a bunch of, possibly autistic, children and we have the wondrous mother earth of Dominique Laffin (Isabella), who, as far as I am concerned was the greatest screen siren since Marilyn Monroe. (How sad that she died before the world recognised her beauty and talent.) As Roberto and Isabella coalesce, procreate and 'rescue' these damaged little souls, Ferreri asks some huge questions about existence, evolution and our place in the universe. In the final shot, as Roberto carries his loved but irreparably damaged charge into the unforgiving sea, we see this tragic drama through the eyes of a caged frog. There are few films that I think I can't really get my head around, but this is certainly one of them!
I first saw '42nd Street' at a film society viewing session when I was
18. At that age I was very cynical, but still this amazing work swept
me off my feet. Now I am less cynical and I can see it to be one of the
cinema's finest gems.
This is a film in which it is really difficult to trace who should get the credit. Based on a novel by a writer whose subsequent work was unremarkable to say the least, its two scenarists wrote little else of note. Lloyd Bacon was a perfectly competent director, but he made nothing to compare with this little wonder. And Busby Berkeley? Well, one can hardly credit him with anything much beyond the dance numbers.
But it doesn't really matter. The characters are magnificent. Julian Marsh is the very essence of an ageing director - tetchy, insecure. Peggy Sawyer is a fabulous 'everygirl' plucked from obscurity by a chance miscalculation. Billy Lawlor is the perfect 'juvenile' lead and 'Anytime' Annie is hilarious in her unbridled nastiness and duplicity. Then there are the money men - Abner Dillon - leering at the legs of the chorus girls 'They've got faces too, you know!' says Barry... And Jones and Barry - they have some wonderful lines... 'His interest is our principal!' Every one of the actors inhabiting those roles makes them into archetypes that have remained valid to this day.
And of course, Marsh's 'you got to come back a star' speech is one of the high-points of American cinema.
Perhaps the dance numbers in 'Dames' were better, but for me this is the finest of the early (pre-Astaire-Rogers) musicals. If you have ten musicals to take with you to a desert island, you'd be a fool not to include this one.
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