Wednesday

About 1800 hours a woman rushed past me. 'Ha' I thought. 'She is struggling home from work, probably because she doesn't have a free cinema ticket for tonight'. And then it occurred to me 'I don't have a free cinema ticket for tonight either'. It was still at home on my coffee table. I quickly weighed up my options: go home and come back, not see a film, or pay to see a film. I decided (or maybe I didn't, if you ask Scott Adams) to go for the latter option. And since I was paying I thought I'd see a movie that you couldn't get into with a free ticket: Blood Diamond. Little did I know then that free ticket passes were in fact allowed: the cinema was absolutely packed.

Blood Diamond is one of those rare films whose trailer and title are worse than the actual movie. I had not particularly wanted to see it, and am now very glad that I have. It's a good film. I suppose it's an intelligent action movie, but that doesn't really do it justice. The cynical might say the meaning and the message behind it are designed to make us feel less guilty about enjoying the violence, but again I think this is too harsh. The ending is not very Hollywood at all (and not quite fitting), and the 'romance' never actually happens - which I think is promising. Jennifer Connelly's character was quite annoying, but Leonardo DiCaprio was very good, his accent believable. The film explores and explains a real, recent and terrible, situation with a surprising lack of sentimentality (until perhaps the end). From really the first five minutes this is a powerful and compelling movie and well worth watching.

(I saw this at the Odeon Marble Arch.)

Tuesday

I've been hearing about Bobby since last year, and have been eager to see it. It sounded good. But, sadly, I think this film serves best as an example of how not to make a movie with interweaving story lines. Many have already said that it resembles Magnolia and some Robert Altman films. The problem is that its stories, situations and characters are not very compelling, the dilemmas they are facing are not that interesting or relevant. It's hard to empathise or engage with most of them. The plot of the two students taking LSD for the first time, whilst getting a lot of laughs, is completely distracting. Demi Moore's character is uninteresting, overplayed and already overdone in cinema. I didn't see the point at all in Martin Sheen and Helen Hunt's scenario, let alone Anthony Hopkins'. Overall, the thing becomes rambling and disjointed, although the music is good in spots. The interlacing of real TV footage disconcerted me at times. And when we come to the inevitable Aimee Mann moment (ie, music montage of panning cameras around everyone having their solitary moments of anguish) we are just not moved enough for it to matter. The crescendo that it builds to is much more shocking than in Magnolia, but again the real TV footage put me off. Still, if Emilio Estevez is going to make anymore films I'd be very interested to see them - his creation of a moment in time is convincing.

(I saw this at the Odeon Panton Street.)

Monday

I went to see The Fountain knowing perhaps the least about it than I have known about any film. All I knew was the director (Darren Aronofsky), and that it was something about a tree and love. This, apparently, was more than some people: two or three left halfway through, and I heard someone saying on the way out 'that was absolutely sh*t'. Why did they? I knew that the film would not follow a conventional narrative formula, but I'd say this was his most conventional movie so far (although I have not seen Pi and Requiem for a Dream in a long time). Undoubtedly people were put off by the three story lines, and especially the third. I too, was disconcerted, and found this uncomfortable. But I was lulled, as I often am, by the excellent music. I can't say for sure I understand the intentions of the director, but I did enjoy the film - I was compelled by it. I did think afterwards, however, whether three story lines were necessary. Couldn't the same message be conveyed with only one? I would say some filmmakers use multiple story lines to appear complex: to mask their lack of body by tripling it. I'm not sure that is the case here, but I did feel the central storyline would probably stand alone as a good film. It compelled me, and I would recommend seeing it if you have the time. There are not many filmmakers doing this sort of thing.

(I saw this at the Odeon West End.)

Sunday

I am fitfully flexing my movie muscles for the onslaught of this coming week - five films in five days. I'm still not sure if I can do it, but I will try. I've warmed myself up with three movies this weekend, but instead of reviewing them I'm going to talk about bullying in the American media. What do I mean? Well, I mean the television series Friends and films such as The Faculty. My problem is that whilst such productions such as these at first seem to embrace 'difference', they in fact only end up repressing them. It's something that occurs throughout American cinema as the lone believer in some thing or other is at first ostracised and then believed. The geek or loser is proud of his difference, and hates everyone else, and we as the audience are encouraged to hate them too. But by the end of the film this character is believed and loved by everyone. Even Napoleon Dynamite ends in this way, quite disappointingly. It seems all they really wanted was for everyone to like them, and to be accepted. Only in very rare examples, such as the excellent Brick, does the main solitary character not become popular at the end. In Friends outsiders are simply not allowed in to the group of six. Anyone else's minute weaknesses are exploited and ridiculed. Intermarrying is the only real way for them to be happy, because they hate everything outside of themselves. As a viewer you are made to feel part of the group, but the experience for anyone outside of this must be horrific. Perhaps I'm reading too much into it.

Saturday

I have been inundated with requests to explain my definitions of 'movie' and 'film'*. I thought this would be easy. However, after thinking about it for a day I can't make my mind up on exactly what I do mean when I saw 'movie' and 'film'. Initially, I thought 'movie' stood for a blockbuster: light, easy-going, entertainment that satisfies you emotionally and is normally some kind of escapism. A 'film' is thus an intellectual work of art that challenges you. But then I reached an impasse when I remembered that we used to say Annie Hall and Manhattan were perfect examples of the difference between a movie and a film, respectively. Clearly these two do not fit my definitions. Maybe 'movie' just means something that isn't perfect? Or something that ends happily (although Annie Hall kind of doesn't)? As always, any clear definition you try to impose on art breaks down in the detail. Any ideas?

*Actually, no one's asked me, but I thought I'd do a post on this anyway.

Friday

I typically split a film into three elements: picture, music, script. I don't know if these are critically valid terms, but I find them quite useful. The best films achieve a balance of all three of these elements. More commonly, however, the result is uneven. Ingmar Bergman's films, for instance, have good script and picture but sometimes little or no good music. A lot of the Star Wars movies have great picture and music, but terrible scripts. The first Star Wars film, however, might be said to be a perfect balance. Normally, it is the music that lets a movie down. Why is this? I think because a director can control the picture and usually has some ability to edit the script, but can do little about the music. Only Chaplin and Carpenter spring to mind as original composers. For the rest it is either selection of music that sets them apart, Kubrick being a prime example, or relying on the ability and sympathy of a composer, such as Zimmer. This, at least, is the basics of what I do when I see a movie.

I've now got five free tickets to see films next week. I don't know what I'll see, or even if I'll manage it. You, as always, will be the first to know.

Thursday

Either I read the schedule wrong, or the schedule was wrong. Whatever the truth, I didn't see Bobby today as planned, but instead went to watch The Queen. I really didn't know what to expect having heard very little about it. But I thought it was pretty good. Some of the dialogue was a bit stilted, and some of the acting wasn't top class. But then some of the dialogue was exceptional, and Helen Mirren's performance is really pretty good. I had to keep reminding myself it was her, because she looked so different. At the beginning I was a little bored, but when the tension between Blair and the Queen grew it was pretty gripping. I did think they overplayed the importance of the events, however, and relied too much on audience knowledge and sympathies. If this had been a film without any of its context - someone's ex-daughter-in-law dies in a car crash - then it would've been fairly uninteresting. It's the context that makes it powerful, and the filmmaker exploited this. Also, I found myself at odds with the direction the director wanted to take it. I sided with the Queen rather than Blair - why should there be a public funeral? It was a private matter.

Was this an English film? I think so. I have a problem with the English film industry. I don't really know what it is. But the music in this particular movie got me thinking: it seemed to undermine its own seriousness. The subject should be quite an intense one but the music was light and playful. It was as if the film knew it was English, and would never be taken seriously, so had to play up to its national idiosyncrasies. I don't know.

Wednesday

You may have noticed that a while ago I deleted the description of this blog from the header above, and that it has now been replaced by a quote from Jean-Luc Godard. Thinking about it, I believe what he says is true. If a girl were to represent a goal, as she often does, and a gun is conflict, or something obstructing the main character from getting that girl/goal, then you have summed up a lot of movies, perhaps all of them. Most stories are about people wanting things, and the problems that get in their way of achieving them. Perhaps I'm being a little obvious here, but it may be worth pointing out. I hope to have a different quote each week.

How does one get to go to press film screenings? I suppose you have to be a member of the press first. Well, anyway, I'd be interested to know if anyone can find out.

Tuesday

I decided to try something new today. Before going to see Black Book I wrote a review of what I was expecting. Here it is: 'a tense, fast-paced drama, more overtly intellectual that his previous movies, an attempt to be Polanski, dealing with issues of nationalism and loyality, a woman stuck in-between these concepts, perhaps eventually dying for her perceived betrayal, a good film, maybe a little empty, glossy in the 1950s style rather than gritty like a modern war film, nothing special with the music or the cinematography.'

How accurate was I? Not wanting to blow my own trumpet, or hoist my own petard, I was pretty accurate. A problem is that it's too fast paced. You don't get time to settle into a situation before it's suddenly uprooted. You don't get to know the main character, who she is and what she stands for. She never really makes any choices by which you can identify her. She doesn't suddenly discover anything, or change her opinions. She's quite a blank cell in the middle of this film. As such, it hints toward a deeper meaning, but doesn't give itself the time to develop anything. Everything is rushed through to the end. We've seen Nazis being cruel before, so there's not much new there. The interest is in the vindictiveness of the Dutch after the war, but that's not dwelt on for very long. I did enjoy this film, but I was left wanting more.

I saw the movie at the original Curzon in Mayfair. It's now my new favourite cinema - art-deco style (I think) from 1936, the interior is great with its low ceilings and wooden panels, and the auditorium itself was very comfortable and warm (which helped today).

Monday

Great news. The Evening Standard have begun again their free cinema ticket week. I saw someone reading the paper on the train home, and managed to get myself a copy before my newsagent ran out. In fact, for some reason I thought it was Tuesday today, and so was quite angry that I'd missed the first day of tokens. Now, however, I am well on target to collect every token and see a film everyday next week. It really is quite an extraordinary thing. The cheapest ticket I can get is £6. So, 5 times 6 is £30. Minus five copies of the paper at 50p each, £2.50, and I'm left with a £27.50 bonus, plus the actual enjoyment of seeing a film, which is unquantifiable. Can't say fairer than that.

After Christmas I bought the Phantasm box-set, and last night I saw the first film in the series. It's really pretty weird.

So, have I decided what film to show the detractor? Not yet. I had also been thinking about The Thin Red Line, as Alex suggests in his comment. Perhaps that is the perfect film. Other thoughts so far are: Goodfellas, Jurassic Park, Saving Private Ryan, Pulp Fiction. All of them, though, fail in some areas, I think. Check out this for an interesting compilation list of the best 50 movies: http://cinepad.com/awards/awards_1-50.htm

Sunday

Snakes on a Plane is a great movie. I think, in fact, it might be the perfect definition of a 'movie' (as opposed to a 'film'). You can tell everyone involved in making it was having a great time, and this makes you enjoy it more. You know exactly what you're going to get: snakes on a plane. But it's how they present it, how they play with your expectations, denying them and then fulfilling them, that's excellent. Samuel L. Jackson is great as always, and clearly having a lot of fun. The moment when he says the line that fans from the internet had urged him to include is perhaps one of the best moments in cinema from last year. I had wanted to see this film from the moment it came out, but somehow didn't get around to it for a while. Now that I have, it definitely goes in the top ten films from last year. Rent it, invite your friends, and drinks lots of beer. A good time for all.

Still I can't think how to answer the question I posed on Friday. I'm narrowing it down, though. I believe it would have to be a contemporary film, one that is both intellectually stimulating, as well as just good fun. It has to have great special effects, and good music timed to the action. Everything that shows what film can do. But what movie specifically? I can't decide, yet.

Saturday

I noticed on Thursday night that the Metro Cinema (for a while it was called The Other Cinema) on Rupert Street has closed down. Apparently the rents for being part of the Trocadero building were just too high. I remember seeing rennovation work going on there a while ago, but I thought it was just being re-done. Apparently not. As you can see from the picture I took, it is now occupied by nightclub ticket vendors.
I remember seeing American Movie there, but perhaps that was the only time I went? I regret that now because I love small cinemas. If anyone who reads this blog wins the lottery, can we please buy this theatre and start showing good films there again? I'm guessing it's available.

I don't have an answer yet for the question I set yesterday. My first thought was Star Wars, but maybe that wouldn't work. It's quite a challenge.

Friday

There are similarities between The Last King of Scotland and The Pursuit of Happyness. They are both based on true stories, and they both underachieve at adapting those stories to film. (It was interesting to note the different audiences attending each movie.) The life of 'Chris Gardner' is a fascinating one, but it has not been made into a good film. As a film director you have to manipulate your material to create the perfect movie. The highs and lows, the pacing, follow too simply the life. Real life very rarely makes a compelling movie. Will Smith and his son are great, but they could have gone much further than this. The director manipulates the audience's emotion (as opposed to allowing audience emotion) too crassly, and the soundtrack was inappropriate at times, too sentimental. As much as I endorse the use of music to heighten cinematic effect, some filmmakers are afraid of silence, of letting the pictures stand for themselves. Moreover, from the trailer I had thought this might be a gritty movie about the American dream. It was a real story, that man really slept in a subway toilet with his son, it really happened, but the filmmakers made it into a fairytale. It is a very difficult balance to show the reality, manipulate it into a good story, and add the effects to make a it into a great movie.

Now, a question that I hope to try to answer tomorrow: what if you met someone at a party who said they hated film and saw no value in it as an art form? You tell them you think movies are great. And they reply 'Ok, I'll watch one film, and one film only, of your choosing: convince me it is an art form I should engage with'. What film do you show them?

The Last King of Scotland

I've been trying since Tuesday to see, and been very much looking forward to seeing, The Last King of Scotland. Having finally seen it tonight, I feel quite disappointed. Kevin MacDonald has filmed an interesting story (as is his background), but he has not made a film out of it. The only really compelling element is Forest Whitaker's performance, and the real-life character of Idi Amin that he portrays. I asked myself afterwards what I would think if it had been a film about entirely fictional characters. The answer was: disappointed. That can be the only review. This is not a movie; it's a film of an extraordinary story. There's a difference, I think. There should be throughout a terribly sinister mood and tone, but there isn't. The music selection is terrible. The atmosphere is inconsistent and badly developed, the pace of the movie not maintained and any kind of plot arc distinctly lacking. Nothing is learned or not learned, discovered or recovered. No ideas are presented or challenged. Yes, it's about a naive doctor who selfishly gets involved with Amin and then finds himself in too deep. But, if this wasn't a real story, would it have any power? I don't think so. I don't want to ruin the ending for you, but the thing that almost happens should have happened. I'll say no more.

Incidentally, I was completely wrong about Kevin MacDonald being at the Curzon yesterday. He will be there on Friday, I think. I like the cinema, but it is very busy. Also, how windy was it today? I saw a man have his lunch blown away - his polystyrene takeaway box flew out of his hands and off down the street.

The Day I Failed To See A Movie

As you might have seen from my 'upcoming attractions' list to the right, I had intended to see The Last King of Scotland today. As you might be able to tell from my tone, I failed. There can be no excuses. Here, however, are the reasons: arriving at 6.15 at the Curzon Soho I found there was a queue out the door on to the street. Strange, I thought, but ok, I can handle a busy theatre. So I waited in line until I got nearer the ticket booth and saw a notice that said the director (?) would be doing a Q&A after the film. This complication would mean two things: the cinema would be absolutely full, and I wouldn't be able to get out, and therefore home, until much, much later than I had planned. For some reason I had no real desire to ask the director any questions, although you'd imagine I would. Anyway, it was 6.20. Where else was showing the film? I began a frantic run around almost every cinema in the west end looking for a movie to see. Every where I went I found long queues, late start times, closed doors, and ushers ushering me away. There are no films that start at 7 or 7.30. Can you believe that? In what is perhaps one of the most heavily cinema-populated places in the world, I couldn't find a film to see. I returned home quite disheartened, but nonetheless determined to watch a movie tomorrow no matter what the limitations are.

It was perhaps ironic that The Man Who Sued God was on television when I returned home. I felt like I, too, had been wronged this time by some all-powerful cinematic deity.

The Introduction of Comments

You can now comment on this blog. I have added this feature experimentally because I think I write better if I don't believe I have an audience. We'll see. An audience colours the creation process. Of course you always have some concept of a reader in your head when you write, but there are different levels of expectation - the second album of an artist is normally worse than the first, for instance, because now they know people are listening. All the creative energies of the debut had been towards making people listen. Anyway, I am reminded of (perhaps because I read it yesterday) the preface to Jerome K Jerome's Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow. Perhaps one of the best prefaces ever:

'One or two friends to whom I showed these papers in MS. having observed that they were not half bad, and some of my relations having promised to buy the book if it ever came out, I feel I have no right to longer delay its issue. But for this, as one may say, public demand, I perhaps should not have ventured to offer these mere "idle thoughts" of mine as mental food for the English-speaking peoples of the earth. What readers ask nowadays in a book is that it should improve, instruct, and elevate. This book wouldn't elevate a cow. I cannot conscientiously recommend it for any useful purposes whatever. All I can suggest is that when you get tired of reading "the best hundred books," you may take this up for half an hour. It will be a change.'

The Improvement of Television Series

We can no longer dismiss television as a lesser medium than film. I wonder if we ever could? Certainly recently, however, the quality of some programming has become as good as, if not better than, many movies. I think it started with 24, but I'm not certain about that. It has been a slow development, of course, but 24 really broke new ground. The dialogue, the acting and more importantly the special effects improved tremendously. The American industry began investing a lot of money in hit shows.

Prison Break has just begun its second season. I watched the first one and had not realised it was such a hit. No one I knew followed it, anyway. I found it extremely annoying. The series was called Prison Break but nothing happened for 20 episodes. This is a problem I find with television programmes: the length of the series. They go on forever, for almost half a year, and nothing really happens. But you get sucked in, involved with the characters, and can't escape. The same happened to me with Invasion. What a waste of time that was. I don't really want to watch the second series of Prison Break but it looks as though things are actually happening now. We'll see.

By the way, this blog now has a sister site: Stranded Photos.

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines

I quite like the Terminator franchise (although, as I've said, I like all franchises). I remember the second film coming out when I was 12 and it being the one everyone at school wanted to see - although of course we couldn't because it's rated as a 15. Nonetheless, someone had the book of the film, and we all took turns borrowing it - even though I don't remember it ever getting to my turn. Anyway, I received the video of it from my aunt a few years later and, seeing as it was the only video I owned and where I lived had only one television channel, I watched it religiously. I was still underage, and I'd never seen the first one, but it was probably the best present I've ever been given. Perhaps more than I realise the culture of that movie has affected me profoundly.

The first film is definitely the better 'film', but it doesn't belong to my age, if you understand what I mean. Edward Furlong was me, was my age. I watched Termintor 3: Rise of the Machines again tonight. It's a very good sequel, both better and worse than the second: better in the issues it deals with, but worse in its action sequences. Once again the hero is me, is my age. I've read that they're making a fourth film. I don't think this is a good idea. We've gone as far as we can go with the story - unless we go further back in time - and it would ruin the imagined horror of the terminator war if we were to actually see it. The power of these movies is the threat of something in the furture, the weight of fate upon us. It's one of the best science-fiction concepts imagined and pursued through two excellent sequels.

Saturday

The Shipping News is a good example of a film that has been badly adapted, or perhaps should never have been adapted, from a novel. At every moment of the plot you can feel there is more going on than is ever revealed. You can feel the lack of subtlety that a novel would have given to some moments - for instance the flashbacks. Everything is packed in to too short a time, not given the space to breathe and develop as it should. Big name actors are used when it should have been unknowns. The theme of the shipping news is lost, and never really expanded upon in the way it must be in the book. Overall, any tension or excitement that was in the book is lost. The audience is left unfulfilled, feeling that there is so much more to say, or so much more has been said, about what is going on. I think if you want to adapt a book you have to be very brave and cut large sections of, and whole themes. I'm not saying a film is less complex. A film's complexity works in entirely different ways. You cannot equate one with the other, but have to translate a book to film. Only very rarely has this been done successfully, and then it depends on whether you read the book or saw the movie first...

I forgot to mention that the music in Night at the Museum was actually very good. It was real, at least, not synthetic, and powerful. A proper family film musical score, like they used to make them.

Friday

Today I saw A Prairie Home Companion. It's a good movie. Don't read on if you intend to see it too. It's a good movie with several problems. It conjures up a successful atmosphere which is very enjoyable to be part of. But the character of the 'angel' is completely absurd. If it had been anyone other than Robert Altman I'm sure the producers would have urged him to cut it. She's terrible, really. I cringed every time she came on screen. The problem is that she comes hand in hand with Kevin Klein's character, who is the best thing about this movie. Again, though, he shouldn't be in this movie. He's out of place. I loved him, though, and wished he had a whole film to himself. Anyway, like I said, this movie conjures up an atmosphere, but it does little more than that. Having only seen half of Short Cuts, and half of Gosford Park, I don't really know much about Altman. The plot in this film doesn't go anywhere, and is very confused at the end - at least, I was very confused. Nonetheless, I have to say I enjoyed this film, although I can't really put my finger on why.

I saw this film in the Empire cinema in Leicester Square. I haven't been in there since I was a teenager. It's a fairly tacky place, with large mirrors and gold handrails. But the seats are very comfortable.

Thursday

I was looking for a good film book yesterday. I spent half an hour in the Waterstone's in Gower Street, then another ten minutes looking through the shelves of the University of London Library. I couldn't find one that really suited me. Perhaps you know of one? What I'm looking for is a simple introduction to cinema, its history, how it works, how it's made, its styles, and how to read a film. Perhaps, you might say, I should know all this already seeing as I write a movie blog. There is always more to learn, I think. And what I know is based simply on watching films and talking to people. There is nothing 'academic' in my knowledge. Perhaps there should be. Not that I have time to read a book on cinema, but it would be good to try.

In other news, how do you dispose of a battery? I walked around town today with one in my pocket looking for somewhere to deposit it. If we're not supposed to put them in regular dustbins, they should at least give clear guidance on where we are supposed to put them.

Wednesday

What, I hear you ask, is the Linnaen Society? You may, like me, have passed Burlington House on Piccadilly and seen that aside from being the residence of the Royal Academy of Arts, the Geological Society, the Royal Astronomical Society, the Society of Antiquaries and the Royal Society of Chemistry, it is also home to the aforementioned. Who are they, and what do they do? Thanks to the use of wikipedia, I will now pretend to be informed and tell you. They are a society for the study and dissemination of taxonomy (not to be confused with taxidermy). And what is taxonomy? Why, it's the practice and science of classification. Initially, its limits were quite narrow, restricted mainly to science, specifically Zoological, Biological, and Botanical (as was the emphasis of Carolus Linnaeus who created taxonomy), but it can now be applied to the classification of anything, and how and why we classify (called 'folk taxonomy') - which I think is fairly interesting. Anyway, that's that. I'm not sure how one becomes a member.

Incidentally, I heard on Radio 4 last night a suggested definition for the word 'dorking': when you hold open the door for one person and end up stuck holding it for several more.

Tuesday

Which film suffers the most from having advert breaks inserted into it? The Thin Red Line. This movie depends for much of its effect on its incredible sense of fluidity. To put advert breaks into it is to ruin it substantially. Flicking through channels the other night I came across it just as it was returning from such a break. I felt completely disorientated, and it took me ten minutes to get into the rhythm of it, before soon being broken again by another advert break. Some films, it seems, can survive this process, although it is generally not recommended. Advert breaks almost always come at the wrong time, especially on Channel 5 I've noticed. It takes quite a sensitive editor to put them in the right place, and most channels don't have the time to do so. FilmFour was once good, having no advert breaks, and TCM is still ok - sometimes admitting only one in the whole film.

Something a friend said to me in conversation that I found quite funny: 'I think I'm becoming an alcoholic. Every day I have 3 or 4 pints or more. It's gotten so bad that when pink elephants get drunk, they see me.'

Monday

I was persuaded to see Night at the Museum based on the concept alone. I think this is how a lot of films are sold to us. In fact, I think this is how films are sold to producers/studios. 'Ok, imagine Ben Stiller in a museum where everything comes alive at night. Lots of jokes, lots of fun, and a happy family ending for Christmas'. That is the film. Having seen it a few hours ago, I can tell you that there's nothing more to it. The concept sounds entertaining enough, but they haven't added anything else. All the good jokes are in the trailer, and even they're not that good. It is a concept studio film. They knew people would see it (I did), and that's all they wanted. They didn't want to make a great film. It fades terribly into cliches (if it wasn't already one) for the last twenty minutes - a lot like Jumanji. It could have been a really good film - the concept does have potential - but I don't think any of the actors were really given much freedom, and you do have some great actors here. One of which, as I mentioned earlier, is Ricky Gervais. Unfortunately he is completely out of place. Don't see this film unless you're under 12 years old.

Sunday

What is the difference between a play and a film? I shall perhaps be a little simplistic in my answer, but bear with me. Firstly, there is only one performance of a film - supposedly a perfect one, captured for everyone to see. Secondly, you can control the environment within which you watch the film. Thirdly, the play is two dimensional, where film can be three. Fourthly, music and movement play a far more predominant part in film. Fifthly, and perhaps most importantly, special effects and props in film are far more advanced than they are for theatre. Anything else? We might note that films are usually shorter than plays, and come without an intermission (except a few rare ones). Plays are limited in space, and also the amount of actors/characters they can have - at least, a lot more limited than film.

These are all quite structural and formal differences, but my main aim is to examine our (or my) expectations when we see a film. Specifically, why do I think Closer is probably a better play than a film? Because of the limitations of the stage we allow the action and the drama to be limited to dialogue and the emotional interactions of the characters. We do no expect much more than to 'hear'. The 'seeing' part of a play is quite limited. When we go to a film, however, the 'seeing' part is extended. There will indeed be large tracts than involve no dialogue at all, but music and vision. This is rarely possible in theatre, again because of the spatial limitations. In Closer the director did give us contemporary London locations, which was great, but there was never much movement. It lacked the fluidity we expect from film. It was just a Harold Pinter drama, but not as good, and without the pauses. It was a series of scenes of people talking. While this does occasionally work, the dialogue has to be exceptional. It wasn't.

I haven't really covered this thoroughly enough, but I've definitely gone on too long. All this has made me think, however, of the differences between novels and films, and how I often do think 'this was probably a good novel' at the end of an adapted movie. Perhaps another post is due on this issue too...

Saturday

Why was Simon Pegg in Mission: Impossible III? I forgot to mention this on my post on Monday. I like his performances and his writing very much, but he was wrong for the film and the film was wrong for him. His comedy doesn't suit the tone of the movie at all, and it makes him seem like a bad actor. I believe this is the downfall of quite a few British actors: miscasting. Perhaps it is the downfall of actors on general. I think of Ricky Gervais in Night at the Museum as well - his performance there looks out of place. Also, let's not forget Vinnie Jones. Ok, he's not a great actor, but he's certainly doing the wrong roles that don't emphasis what he is capable of. British actors go to America and happily accept anything. But this 'anything' forces them in to a stereotype which they can't escape from. Only very rarely do our actors succeed, and this is quite symptomatic of the British film industry in general.

Incidentally, what is the best disclaimer ever? 'Willpower needed'. You'll see this at the end of a cigarette patch advert. It's not a disclaimer that you are unhappy to read, such as 'this product will only work in Madagascar', or 'batteries not included, and not produced anymore anywhere within the Southern Hemisphere' etc. It's a disclaimer that encourages you. Great stuff.

Friday

Another post on the film Closer, I'm afraid, and there may be more to come. This time a short note to mention the opinions of two people who have seen the play of the movie. They both thought the play was amazing, and were disappointed by the eventual film. One of them, my sister, saw two different performances of it. The first contained a friend of hers in the Natalie Portman role which she described as 'the main character'. This notion I puzzled over for a while. Is she the main character? I certainly didn't come away with that impression from seeing the film. I thought Jude Law was. We begin and end, however, with Natalie Portman. She is the one that changes and escapes. She should be our focus, but perhaps the film lost this, to its detriment? Nonetheless, I do believe this is essentially a 'play', and I will try to explain my definition soon.

Thursday

Apologies for the lack of posts: I couldn't, and still can't, load the blogger.com index page. I managed to login today through a back street.

The film Closer began and ended with a song by Damien Rice. I think its title is 'The Blower's Daughter'. The main refrain is 'I can't take my eyes off of you'. I have a proposition (and I would like the more musically erudite of you to challenge me on this) that the best love songs are active, not passive. What I mean is that the sentiment is not one of helpless, docile, devotion. Damien Rice's song is such a one, and I think it terrible. The passivity they express encourages us to be passive, and it endorses our failures and our weaknesses. I personally think the 'active' love songs are far better, and I wonder if this is not the same for you, although you may not have realised it? I'm certainly drawn sometimes to the nostalgia and sadness of such passivity, but when I realise what I've been sucked into, I quickly draw myself out again.

Bob Dylan, I believe, is one of the great writers of such 'active' love songs. Check out 'It's All Over Now, Baby Blue', 'Don't Think Twice, It's All Right', and 'It Ain't Me Babe'. What do you think? I haven't got a very good memory for songs, which is why I'm asking you, but I may come back to this subject again later and try to explore where such passivity came from - I believe it was all a big misunderstanding...

Wednesday

It's always interesting to hear other people's opinions of films. This may sound obvious to you, but what I mean is people who you don't normally talk to about film, and people who don't know you are very interested in cinema and write a movie blog. Thus it was that someone told me Broken Flowers is pointless, and American Beauty stupid and silly. This may well be true, but I think their reasons for saying so could be easily undermined. Nonetheless, after them giving me to keep those two DVDs, we then proceeded to watch Closer. To them it was a very rude film which didn't end satisfactorily.

I reached the end thinking it had a good script, good acting, that it had tense situations and engaging dialogue, but overall feeling 'so what?'. It's not that I want films to have a point, or a message, but I left this thinking why should I care? It's a story about annoying, unlikable people doing annoying, unlikable things. Then, during the credits I noticed the film was adapted from a play. Suddenly it all made sense. If this had been on a stage would I have felt the same lack of interest? Probably not. I probably would have liked it immensely. Do I then demand something from a film that I don't of a play? I'll post on this again later this week.

Tuesday

It was my ambition to go to the cinema yesterday but due to spending too much money on an mp3 player, and tiring myself out looking for the right one, I decided to stay home and watch Memento. It's a film I think I've only seen once in the cinema, or perhaps twice at home and not really paying attention. Seeing it last night it for the first time made a lot of sense to me - I don't think I'd ever truly understood the concept. Now, I see clearly how it works. Unfortunately I missed the last 30 minutes so if anyone has it on video I'd very much like to borrow it. Anyway, it's quite compelling, but is it the kind of film one can watch again and again? Is the innovation of it lost on a second viewing? I think you have to answer this for me. Once you get past the 'gimmick' are you left with anything worthwhile? I think so - the film is about the importance of memory, its manipulation, and our manipulation of it: memory being a significant element, theoretically, that distinguishes us as higher animals. So, thoughtful and intriguing, and I still need to watch the last 30 minutes...

Honourable mention today to the pilot of the boat on New Year's Eve who had to speed up and down the Thames with an arsenal of fireworks setting themselves off behind him. When I saw the pictures on TV I was quite impressed. You could barely see the rest of the boat for all the lights exploding around it.

Monday

I really enjoyed Mission: Impossible III. I knew I would. For some reason, though, I never managed to see it in the cinema. Suddenly, however, the clouds cleared in the last few days and I managed to rent and watch it. Philip Seymour Hoffman is as good as you imagine, perhaps better. He's the first character in a film for a long time that I've been genuinely afraid of. I was dreading the minute we met him, and everything Tom Cruise did to perpetuate that meeting. Such presence when you're not even on camera is quite remarkable. I'm going to ruin the film a little (not much) so skip to the next paragraph if you haven't seen it. I am always annoyed when directors start at the end, as this film does. However, this is the first film for me where this method has worked, and imbued the whole plot with tension throughout. I'm not sure, though, whether this tension would remain on a second viewing...

Overall, this is a good, good blockbusting popcorn movie. I wish I'd seen it on the big screen now. Some really thrilling moments, and exciting, dramatic situations. The action sequences didn't really drag on that long, as is my usual complaint, and the bits in-between weren't too slow, which is everyone else's. As I said yesterday, one of the better films of the year.