The Mogul Reviews

The Aristocrats (2005)

A passé experience for one familiar with obscenity. Occasionally funny, but surprisingly thin on invention.

[5/10 · 7 February 2006]

The premise: A hundred comedians chew over a dirty joke – a joke with unlimited scope for filthy invention. The pay off: surprisingly limited.

The Aristocrats is diverting enough, but it was not the procession of laughs I expected it be. Its principal flaw is, surprisingly, that simply not enough of its comedians tell the joke and well. One could, and others have, blamed intrusive editing: the film-makers cut away from many of their subjects mid-flow. However, I think that in a lot of cases their source material left the directors no choice.

The film's performers are, we know, fine comedians, but only a once-in-a-decade improvisatory genius advances over such well trodden ground without a prepared routine. Those that pull out such a routine, Sarah Silverman for instance, fare well. Those who haven't really thought about their interview before turning up, and who can't use material they've worked up before, just don't cut it.

Most of the comics fall into this category; they manage a lively, somewhat amusing conversation (although a few participants look like they just walked off a plane), however, when it comes to telling the joke, most just touch the main bases – sex involving all three holes, defecation, incest – without any real verve; a few buzz words delivered in forthright fashion apparently signifies a good effort.

Veteran George Carlin is one of surprisingly few who actually manage to expand upon the buzz words, and, when he hits virgin territory, his act becomes irresistibly funny (add the words polyp and "she gets it right most the time" to any defecation scene). It's not surprising that the camera keeps returning to him.

He also belongs to a seeming minority that understands the secret of this joke is in a matter of fact telling; if one delivers the smut with too much relish, it's the same kind of sin as laughing loudly at your own stuff before you even finish (which a number of comics do here).

Carlin is one of a small number of performers that carry this film: the rest are only there to make up the magic number one hundred; they are enjoying an off the cuff chat about a dirty joke for a low budget doco they think will never see the light of day; they are not at anywhere near top form. South Park's Cartman and Stan outdo all but a couple of their competitors; this duo's telling is, prima facie, prepared.

Others less jaded than I obviously find this film highly appealing. If you're not uptight; if banter about orgies, felching, and the dirty sanchez is novel to you; then, hey, you'll probably love this film. But, if you've already met the aforementioned subjects at university, then you may well find this doco passé. I've heard more offensive things on stage and on tape. Have a listen to a genuine boundary pusher like Bill Hicks; his recorded impersonation of Satan getting off: now THAT'S funny!

The Aristocrats fell rather flat in Sydney's bohemia (Newtown); I was the most vocal amongst an audience of fifty – and I didn't laugh very much. In a warmer room I might have enjoyed the film more; I certainly would have liked it had I snuck in at the age of sixteen.

Three Dollars (2005)

Thoughtful. Authentic. Moving. Brave. The tale of a man who loses his livelihood and finds himself.

[9/10 · 7 February 2006]

A man discovers how close he is to homeless, and what dignity really means. We watch him take the first step to solving his predicament: admitting it to himself and to those he loves.

The man is David Wenham (in the role of Eddie Harnovey) and what a performance he gives: an unexciting environmental chemist never evoked such pathos. His altruism, his silly kindnesses, endear him too us; they seem a truly authentic response from a man accustomed to being the charity-giver, and who's sense of himself won't let him admit that the tables have now turned. Living that lie, just for a little while longer, to postpone a hard decision or realisation: this is an experience we've all had, and Wenham plays it so well, subtly hinting at deeper more honest feelings.

Molokai, Getting Square, The Boys, The Proposition, Dust: Wenham has demonstrated an impressive acting range across his oeuvre thus far. Any fan must watch Three Dollars to see yet another thing this man can do with aplomb. His principal companions in this film, Frances O'Connor and Robert Menzies, also turn in fine performances.

I really appreciated Three Dollars' subtle character development. Robert Connolly's screenplay is a fine one, and his unobtrusive visual style really worked for the material. Others on IMDb have criticised this film for being slow, and possessing some pointless episodes; the phrase which best describes these bits is character development! No, this film doesn't have the steroidal plot of your average Hollywood blockbuster. But, by the same token, your average Hollywood blockbuster never comes close to the complex, unglamorous emotional journey depicted here. If you can appreciate a film which doesn't consist of a series of Indiana Jones style trials, you've found a winner. If you don't have an art house sensibility then you might find this film a little diffuse, but I still recommend the challenge.

One only has to read this site's negative reviews to discover this film has a credibility problem. I found it very authentic; two close friends in the employ of Australia's social welfare provider (Centrelink) agree with me. So why is it that people don't believe the events of this film could reasonably happen? The answer is that people expressing such opinions have an unrealistic faith in their employment protections and social welfare system; if one has never lived on the edge, or been in close contact with people who have, one often has such misapprehensions.

Australian corporations regularly lay off large numbers of people: a process euphemistically called 'restructuring'. In Australia, sacking one person is legally fraught: sacking many is legally painless. Companies will announce there intention to do so well in advance, but, in my company at least, you are told you've been sacked on the day that you finish. It's happened twice at my office, and a couple of people have been very surprised.

If your one of those people who didn't really plan for the eventuality, even if you run to the welfare office (Centrelink), you'll run into several weeks delay while your case gets processed; how do you feed your family in the mean time? Most people resort to credit, but not everyone has the luxury; David Wenham's character probably has a ten thousand dollar Amex debt from his recent 'unapproved' business travel.

I have seen a former director, sacked without notice, march into my Fortune 500 company's office, with his entire family, demanding that his entitlements be processed for payment then and there; he forcefully proclaimed for all in the open plan office to hear, "I have to feed these people you know!" How improbable? How true! A sole bread-winner who is absorbed in their work, who is impractical, in debt, and manages his finances from week to week (a character which David Wenham convincingly inhabits) could easily find himself in the Three Dollars situation.

What is so sad about this film is that some people reject it as unrealistic when, in fact, a similar thing happens to an Australian every day. Very soon in Australia there will be no protection against unfair dismissal for employees of companies with up to one hundred people. None whatsoever. This isn't forecasting on my part, but a matter which has already been passed into law. It's easy to see from other comments relating to this film how such laws succeed; our prime minister, 'Honest' John Howard, couldn't possibly sponsor such a bill? Could he? The problem of the disjunction between what is actually true and what people are prepared to believe is a problem faced by better films all the time. The only solution, I suppose, is to keep making them, and thereby change peoples' misconceptions. I encourage overseas watchers to give this story the benefit of the doubt; it is really quite a truthful one, I assure you.

To make an analogy, few Australians would be aware that a pistol with a silencer makes a noise of 110 decibels or more (that's louder than a pneumatic drill or someone shouting in your ear). Many would wonder where the noise came from if Kiefer Sutherland ever used anything like the real thing; and, sure enough, comments would appear on IMDb saying, "How unrealistic was that!" Those reviews that proclaim Three Dollars to be unrealistic are making the same mistake: their point of reference is not reality.

Take the leap with this film, even if what happens offends your belief in the justice of your society: your belief may well be unjustified.

It's good to see a film tackling this unpopular but important subject.

Three Dollars is an affecting character-driven drama. The central performances are truly excellent. It is a melancholy film, but a certain wry humour keeps it afloat. It is saddest in its comment on society; more than a little optimism can be found in Eddie's final situation: provided you value self-realisation over money.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005)

A Rather Unenchanted Magical World: Embark Upon A Pacier Adventure Somewhere Else.

[4/10 · 6 February 2006]

Oh, the disappointment! To walk into the cinema expecting something with the verve of Lord of the Rings, or at least with a comparably good mise-en-scene, and instead to be treated to this lacklustre matinée! The film's greatest flaw is its laboured pace: the fault of casting on the basis of looks, poor acting direction, and flabby dialogue editing.

The young actress Georgie Henley (Lucy) really shines, but her three siblings get progressively more wooden with age. The White Witch (Tilda Swinton) and her sidekick Ginarrbrik (Kiran Shah) turn in the worst performances of the lot. Swinton is as enchanting as a doleful catwalk bitch; her jarring seduction of Edmund never convinces, and thereby makes nonsense of most of the plot. Shah delivers his few lines in the fashion of a Hong Kong schlock overdubber. Liam Neeson turns in a journeyman's performance that is just too portentous to suit this fantasy, whilst Tumnus (James McAvoy), although possessed of a lively face, also belabours his lines.

I don't believe, however, that the actors are entirely to blame: delivering one's dialogue at Sesame Street pace is a problem which inflicts most of the cast; it is the director, therefore, that must be charged with the crime. Narnia is Adamson's first live action feature, and it is all too apparent.

Having to deliver their lines in little snippets, and through many repetitions, actors depend on a director to orient them within the film, and to choose the right take! Adamson either failed to coax the necessary stuff from his cast, or else failed to hear that their performances were dragging. A third, worse, alternative, is that he positively encouraged a ponderous acting style.

Less than brisk editing is the other half of Narnia's pace problem; crisper cutting would have significantly improved this film. All those half second pauses – between lines, between shots, between actions – accumulate to drain it of life.

Performances and pace, however, aren't Narnia's only woes. Generally workmanlike effects are badly let down in a few instances that just can't be forgotten. The waterfall and its ice flows loudly declare their artificiality; they put one in mind of a shopping centre display. And when it came to equipping Aslan's soldiers with leathern jerkins, Peter in particular, how did the costumiers come to settle on fabric so fake you could smell the vinyl from the cinema's back row.

The film can't entirely undo Lewis' magic: with those grievous exceptions above, most things are competently done, and the beavers are entertaining. However, the Narnia experience is decidedly pedestrian; there just isn't enough levity, enough lustre, in this film. I never really felt like I was on an adventure; I often, sadly, felt rather bored.

The cinephile will find this film slow-going. Even those who read the book along time ago will find it so well signposted most of the surprises won't be surprises at all.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)

A Real Entertainer: Perhaps the Best of the Series Thus Far

[8/10 · 6 February 2006]

In the wake of the two mediocre films that opened this franchise, the Prisoner of Azkaban, and now this one, have proved highly entertaining.

From the moment Hermione wakes Harry and Ron, we sense that these three have matured as actors; moments later a darkly atmospheric shot, which flies before them up a damp hill en route to who knows where, portends an exciting ride to come.

The fast-paced opening sequence is a real thrill, and the film's energy and atmosphere don't drop thereafter. Exciting mobile camera work is a factor, so are some fine effects: Lord Voldemort's dark mark is particularly cool, as is the shrivelled embryo of his body.

New characters are well cast; David Tennant's devilish Barty Crouch, Jr. leaves a real impression in his few moments on the screen, and Brendan Gleeson's performance as Mad-Eye Moody is show stopping. Some old hands also turn in excellent performances, Alan Rickman was always a casting coup as Professor Snape, and Shirley Henderson (Moaning Myrtle) is simply brilliant in her bathroom cameo.

That scene is a comic highlight, but there are quite a few chuckles to be had elsewhere. Most of these are at the expense of the lead trio's romantic fumblings; this adolescent love stuff is really well handled, both by the screenplay and by the lead actors.

There are plenty of IMDb comments bemoaning omissions in the adaptation from the novel: I for one wouldn't have minded seeing Hagrid's 'harmless' blast-ended screwts. However, does one really want to watch precisely what they have already read? The film stays true to the novel's spirit and that's the important thing. The film in no way offended my memories; it all felt very fresh and exciting.

I am prepared to make only two concessions to the purists, not because these flaws break faith with the book, but because they break faith with this and the other films.

Firstly, I agree that Michael Gambon's portrayal of Dumbledore is a miscalculation. He comes across as dark and blustery rather than wise or avuncular; this doesn't follow from the previous films, and makes Harry's easy relationship with him more than a little unlikely.

The second galling mistake is the descent of the ball into an indie rock concert. However brief this moment is, and however great a performer Jarvis Cocker may be, it should not have happened; this is a horrible Hollywood cliché! It mightn't have been such a low point if the chosen tune wasn't so dreary.

Aside from these lapses in judgement, I really enjoyed The Goblet of Fire. Exciting, amusing, but with suitably dark corners, this is perhaps the best of the Potters thus far.

Downfall (2004)

As brutally authentic as a film gets: there is no entertainment to be found here.

[10/10 · 6 February 2006]

As Downfall begins, World War Two and Berlin are already hopelessly lost, but yet Hitler issues orders to imaginary armies, and his cadre of generals never does more than tactfully disagree as millions of civilian lives are deliberately jeopardised to no meaningful end. Downfall shines a hard light into Berlin's bunkers, and illuminates a politics both repugnant, and scary in its proximity to politics we know.

The film follows one of Hitler's secretaries, a high-ranking army doctor, Goebbel's wife, a twelve-year old panzer killer, a general encouraging withdrawal from Berlin, and the general defending it. Their stories play out in Berlin's command bunker and through what is left of its streets and buildings. When all of their doings and meetings are put together, one arrives at a rich picture of Berlin's lasts gasps.

We see snatches of the ordinary Berliner's war, of the embattled soldier's war, but mostly we look in upon the actions of Hitler's officers, companions, and civilian attachés. We see them execute erratic orders; variously urge or resist a withdrawal from Berlin; prepare to slip away themselves; write last testaments; sit listless; whore; drink and carouse; labour with the wounded; or prepare for their suicide, and perhaps the murder of their family. What emerges is a compelling interrogation of fanaticism.

The mind boggles at the naïvety of some of the film's acquaintances, but is most disturbed by the actions of its officer class, who know Hitler's behaviour to be entirely irrational yet observe his orders all the same. Many of his generals value their duty to a madman resolved upon death above the lives of millions; the overwhelming concern of others is self-preservation. Why was their no coup in these last days? That is the question which this film will have your mind screaming.

Downfall feels like a fly-on-the-wall documentary, the shots are too well composed and the crew too invisible, but it feels that authentic. The dull grey-green film stock familiar from Saving Private Ryan et. al. helps, but it is the film's remarkable performances, production design, and effects, which really carry the day.

In appearance the film is every bit as convincing as Private Ryan, but it is made still more verisimilar by the absence of any sentimental narrative concessions. Downfall doggedly, dispassionately shows the callousness of the war and its key prosecutors. In the bunker one encounters a menagerie of moralities just as distorted as Hitler's. A few of Downfall's scenes are of the most disturbing nature.

Hitler is not amongst the characters that the camera loosely follows through the film. His centrality to the action probably wins him the most screen time, but our experience of him includes waiting in anterooms and peering down corridors. Thus, cunningly, the power relations around him are revealed; and we get to listen in to both back room and front room politics.

Bruno Ganz's performance is excellent; his Hitler is delusional, tyrannical, and monumentally immoral, but still he conjures some of the charisma and personal kindness that must have seduced those around him. Incredibly, when released in Oz, film critics talked about Downfall's sympathetic portrayal of Hitler: they must have been watching a different film! Ganz is truly repellent; to take his character further would only make it a caricature. His moments of humanity, and his tired physique, only make the whole man more terrible. His portrayal rings true because we can perceive something of how he came to power.

Juliane Köhler also makes a powerful impression as a flighty, selfish, unhinged Eva Braun. You might just hate fanatical ice woman Magda Goebbels (Corinna Harfouch) more than her husband before the film's end. But her fanaticism is no more amazing than the determined naivety of secretary Traudl Junge (Alexandra Maria Lara); a snippet of the real person talking in interview caps the film. What she says is what most German war survivors now say about their culpability; however, after what you've just seen, one's disbelief at such systematic ignorance is more acute than ever.

Downfall is flawlessly executed; the feelings it elicits are intense. It is well deserving of a ten, but one would never call this film entertainment.

Kingdom of Heaven (2005)

A Beautiful, Saddening, Existential Challenge: Religious Zealotry Through History's Lens **Review of the Director's Cut**

[8/10 · 2 February 2006]

**NB: This is a review of the director's cut. If you find Kingdom of Heaven's plot difficult to follow, or if you find its characterisation shallow (some common criticisms of the film, although I can't say how true they are), you may not be watching the same movie. Forty-five minutes makes a big difference in these terms.**

This film is a rich and beautiful tapestry. It depicts a timely story without the clichéd heroics or naïve politics that have characterised other recent Hollywood histories. It similarly steers away from the sword and sorcery aesthetic, which held sway in King Arthur for example. Every set, every costume, feels authentic; the production design is simply fabulous.

The Cinematography, too, is exquisite; the desert becomes a place both mysterious and treacherous; its colouring is magical. The heat is somehow made visible, but even so cool respite can be found in palace chambers, or between the amphorae of Jerusalem's larder.

Kingdom of Heaven sports a large cast, but its actors and Monahan's script combine to bring surprising depth to a host of roles. One doesn't often feel that one knows so many characters in the wake of so little screen time.

Edward Norton and Ghassan Massoud, opposed but philosophically aligned kings, are a fine example of this. Both convey a gravitas that hovers over the film even in their absence. Massoud burns up the screen; Norton's portrayal of the leprous King Baldwin is just as masterful: he manages extraordinary pathos, without ever removing his silver mask!

Liam Neeson's noble father looking for redemption and a legacy; David Thewlis's practically compassionate by-the-wind-sailor; Jeremy Iron's pragmatic humanist; Alexander Siddig's student of justice; Marton Csokas's vile, hubristic warmonger; and Brendan Gleeson's blood-mad oaf – all are fine portrayals.

But perhaps most entrancing is Eva Green's Princess Sybilla. She wafts through the film like sublime incense: a single fragile feminine scent always close to being overwhelmed by her emphatically male and martial world. Her beauty and royalty afford her power that she is nonetheless too timid to use. In her presence we feel the touch of her courageous brother's shadow, and her guilt at his suffering in her stead; we also feel her fatalism and her passion for Balian, her contradictory enchantment and weariness with the East. All of this comprises her beguiling character: a fine performance indeed.

The only principal actor to have escaped my praise thus far is Orlando Bloom in the lead role of Balian. This evasion has been deliberate: Bloom is perhaps Kingdom of Heaven's only serious weakness. His performance is not bad, he meets with some success, but he doesn't seem to grow over the course of the film, even though the script demands it. He is most disappointing in his orations to the defenders of Jerusalem; he just doesn't have the charisma to fill his hauberk. (One can't help but make negative comparisons with more inspired battlefield talkers, such as Crowe, Branagh and Gibson.) Whilst Bloom's performance makes this film less than a masterpiece, it is, nonetheless, a very good one.

Requiring further comment is Kingdom's accomplished screenplay, which deftly avoids didacticism and over-simplification, whilst still offering an accessible parable for today. The disjuncture between doctrine and religion's core values; the clash between zealots and humanists within the same faith: these are the real conflicts which sustain today's intractable religious wars, and they persist on both sides of the affray. Kingdom of Heaven skilfully crystallizes these problems and puts them in historical perspective.

Some have criticized this film on IMDb for its supposed historical inaccuracies, but such critics need to consider whether Kingdom of Heaven was ever intended to be a true story or, rather, just a truthful story. Just because a film is set in the past doesn't mean it can't be a fiction. Whinging about departures from actual history with respect to Baldwin, Sybilla, and Guy de Lusignan, is ludicrous. Did Gladiator's protagonists follow their historical trajectories? No. But that does not make the film unreal! A film can be a fiction and still be true to history. The key criterion, unless a film claims to be a true story, is not did such events happen, but might they have happened.

Another popular criticism of Kingdom of Heaven is that Bloom's character (supposedly) learns swordplay and statesmanship overnight. However, such detractors haven't thought for a moment about the length of the trip from Britain before motorised transport. Just what do you think Balian would have done along the way with an eminently wise father and his retinue of veteran crusaders for company? This is saying nothing of the considerable time which elapses in Jerusalem.

Kingdom of Heaven is not an episode of 24; its timescale is one of many months. A diet of unsubtle action flicks seems to have neutered some viewers' capacity to imagine temporal shifts!

With specific regard to weaponcraft, Balian is shown to be accomplished with the sword when he first joins Godfrey. European knights never had anything like a monopoly on swordplay; is it all that surprising that a weaponsmith knows how to use a weapon? Such knowledge is in fact essential to the occupation!

Any lover of history and beauty should not miss this film; any humanist will be saddened by its story; everyone should find some excitement on its exotic streets, or if not, in the midst of its brilliantly executed battle scenes.

Deliverance (1972)

A Potent Portrait Of Man In Extremis. Highly Recommended.

[9/10 · 1 February 2006]

A potent film. Four characters are developed, subtly and succinctly, and then, just as deftly, pushed over the edge. They set out to experience the wilderness of the Cahulawassee River and find it both wonderful and dangerously wild.

Patient cinematography captures the river's beauty, isolation, and, later, its ominous force. Crisp, unhurried, often stationary shots let the Cahulawassee's rapids speak for themselves, but equally let the threat of the river's silent stretches resonate.

The burbling, roaring, quiet water is this film's soundtrack. This lack, by and large, of extra-diagetic music perfectly suits the material; the audience never gets to experience everyday movieland. The one exception to this rule is the 'Duelling Banjos' theme, which, while initially forming part of the story, later echoes down the river to great effect.

The song, as first exchanged between one of the canoers and an autistic hillbilly, is a deservedly famous showstopper. However, this film is far more than a song.

The thrill and terror of exploration; the disappearance of wilderness; the light and dark sides of both nature and man; loyalty; faith in others and in society; democracy; the morality of killing; the clash of urban and rural culture; prejudice; notions of justice; the capacities of man in extremis; the consequences of secrecy; man 'after the fall' – this film touches upon many complex and powerful themes, yet this richness is rarely conspicuous and never belaboured.

Performances are universally excellent. John Voight's understated showing hypnotises: looking into to his eyes we experience the film's trials, and on the other side we feel changed as he feels changed. Burt Reynolds and Ned Beatty are also convincing in their more exuberant roles. The secondary characters that populate Deliverance strikingly transport the film to the edge of civilisation. The lingering peep-show shots of Lewis's search for a driver are a disturbing portent.

Highly Recommended.

1984 (1984)

Disappointment's No Thought Crime: A Meritorious But Failed Adaptation *minor spoilers: only for those who haven't read the book*

[6/10 · 1 February 2006]

A worthy but not entirely successful adaptation of the novel: flat and cold. Orwell's narrative is first and foremost an internal one, what is more, his characters must be careful not to betray their thoughts and feelings to others; this makes their effective translation to the screen rather difficult. The film-makers needed to be cleverer to succeed at this.

The film's crumbling, bomb-scarred mise-en-scene and washed-out palette create an atmosphere of dismal oppression but never really invoke feelings of fear. The fear that Winston Smith's thoughts might be discovered is what lends tension to the book: tension which is lacking in this film. John Hurt's beaten, cipher-like characterisation might ring true, but it hardly makes for engaging viewing (at least until he enters the torture chamber).

Where is the sense of constant surveillance, of Big Brother's gaze? Where is the sense of liberation when Winston escapes this? 1984's world should, but does not, feel like a panopticon.

The film also fails to make the love scenes between Winston and Julia (Suzanna Hamilton) suitably exciting and transportive. The tone of these scenes is hardly an improvement on the drudgery that precedes them. Indeed the rolling green hillside on which Winston first sees Julia undress, later becomes a motif for his torture-induced mental plane; this concordance is, I think, misconceived.

Winston's little junk shop is another disappointment: it has none of the nostalgic charm, none of feeling of a special place that is evoked by the book.

I believe in judging a film for what it is; I am not interested in authenticity to whatever source material a film might draw from. I only make these comparisons because they are illustrative of the film's major failing: the film is, as I've said, too flat; it is Orwell's novel drained of its gnawing tension and sensual releases.

Winston's 'curing' constitutes a good third of the film: a much larger proportion than it does in the book; Radford seems to have subordinated the novel's more natural tempo to the three acts mantra of the screenwriter's manual. The curing scenes just don't have the atmosphere to sustain them at their allotted length. The torturer's apparatus, including some hideously large rats, is complete, but the shooting of these scenes is so bland. Richard Burton's performance is passionless without sufficient compensating menace. Those who feel his chill feel only the chill of the circumstances: his final film performance is sadly didactic and underwhelming.

The film's final let down is the moment of Winston's breaking, which, after a slow build up, is skipped over far too glibly. The climax is, in a word, anticlimactic. An extreme close up, more fervour and volume in the delivery of John Hurt's lines, sound or visual effects: something different needed to be done to add potency to this moment.

The film finishes with an invented, rather dull epilogue. Something was needed, in this film at least, to demonstrate Winston's brainwashing, but this could have been more succinctly achieved. Orwell's parting words – 'I had learned to love Big Brother.' – achieve this aim admirably in the novel, but they are missing from the film. If ever there was a need for a voice over…

Having taken this film to pieces, I need to make it clear that it's still worth a look. It communicates the politics of its dystopia remarkably well; until Winston's interrogation, one never gets caught in a scene that feels like an explanation. Radford's adaptation is really solid in this respect.

The crowd scenes effectively summon the spectre of Nazism. And the supporting cast does a good job of making us believe in their world. Gregor Fisher is convincingly credulous as Parsons.

As I've said, John Hurt's torture-chamber performance is a virtue, and the urban mis-en-scene, exterior and interior, is evocative: just don't watch this one when you're feeling impatient. If you've read the book this is far from essential viewing: unfortunately, disappointed thoughts don't feel like a crime.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)

A wondrous mythology, a cinematic masterpiece.

[10/10 · 30 December 2000]

I gave a wry chuckle when the opening credits pronounced Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon a Sony Cinema Classic in the year of its release. However, I too would not have hesitated to brand this film such. It is a cinematic masterpiece that left me in silent reverie at its conclusion.

The film's story unfolds amidst the ancient temples, bamboo forests and painted deserts of nineteenth century China: a sensual, mystical landscape that, at our first high-angle glimpse of Peking takes on a dizzying scale. This world is inhabited by the Wudan, spectral warriors from legend who effortlessly leap between rooftop and bamboo tree, a device which elevates them to a plane divorced from our parochial middle-class values without the loss of their intense humanity. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is an ode to the human spirit that transcends genre; it is at once fantasy, romance, historical epic and thriller, enriched by a subtle humour.

At the film's heart are four compelling performances. Ziyi Zhang, is enchanting as the wilful Jen Yu, daughter of a government official, who aspires to the code of the Wudan. Her destiny is entwined with those of Li Mu Bai (Chow Yun Fat) and Yu Shu Lien (Michelle Yeoh), disciples of this enigmatic clan, and of the desert bandit Lo (Chen Chang) by the theft of an arcane sword, Mu Bai's quest for revenge and the fulfilment of a powerful yet unrequited love

Chow Yun Fat possesses an hypnotic screen presence in his portrayal of this regal master, who displays an unparalleled heroism untainted by western cliché as the film travels inexorably toward his shuddering death-blow. This resonates long after the credit sequence has run and you've marvelled at how few stunt artists were engaged to actualize the film's thrillingly beautiful fight sequences. These are not the idle distractions aimed at a boyish mind we find in other martial arts films but rather a transcendent form of dance. Their exquisitely honed choreography rivals that of Graham Murphy and Twyla Tharp.

Star of these sequences is the four hundred year old Green Destiny sword that exerts a powerful metaphoric presence on the film. It is a sensuous artefact that sings when struck, punctuating Yo-Yo Ma's haunting cello solos, a feature of the immersive soundtrack.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is a film of titanic proportions, with all the pageantry of Kundun, minus the ponderous pace, and without a trace of the cloying sentimentalism which infected Titanic's impoverished narrative. Li Mu Bai's final words are a more fervent declaration of truth than any to have graced the screen before.

After all that, I can offer no further commendation except to say that this is the latest greatest film of my now seemingly hollow existence.