tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317056437957071502024-02-19T12:04:21.202+00:00Stranded CinemaIf it can be thought, it can be filmedNick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.comBlogger532125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-51178061464258944122018-01-11T13:05:00.001+00:002018-01-11T14:32:39.765+00:00The Hateful EightTarantino has said he'll only make ten films, and then retire. I don't know if he still stands by this statement, and if he does we won't know for sometime if he'll fulfill it. Either by choice or (probably knowing Tarantino) by design, <i>The Hateful Eight</i> is his eighth film. The gaps between his films have tended to be around three years, although the gap to <i>Kill Bill </i>was longer, and the gap to his next film will almost certainly be so as well. Given that, he can expect to have done ten films by the time he's sixty. Still young enough, certainly, but I think a lot depends on what kinds of films he gets to do over the next few years. As you may know, <i>The Hateful Eight</i> almost didn't happen after the screenplay was leaked. His turn to westerns after <i>Inglourious Basterds </i>wasn't too surprising. He could be trying to make the perfect film in each genre (somewhat like Kubrick). A science-fiction film could therefore be a possibility in the future, although we know his next film will be about the Manson family. This film certainly feels like an attempt to make a perfect, conceptually complete piece. The intensity of the setting, action and dialogue heightens this. It is, if anything, perhaps too contrived, but that is only on reflection. The experience of watching it is immersive. Your allegiance does shift through the film, as your suspicion lingers on different characters, but I wonder what this would be like on a second viewing. Why the narration halfway through, though? The fourth-wall is broken, but to what purpose? It’s almost as if he did it just to remind us we were watching a Tarantino film. Every time I think I understand Tarantino, however, he surprises me. His influences are so vast and peculiar than you can never quite know what to expect. This, perhaps, is his greatest genius.Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-54336730111474560712018-01-10T14:30:00.001+00:002018-01-10T14:33:26.114+00:00Star Wars: The Last JediAs I said about <i>Rogue One</i>, I will love almost any Star Wars film that gets released. I am virtually incapable of being critical of them, as a whole, although I do now look back on the prequels with a sense of regret - they could have been so much more interesting. These latest films are of course better, but, like a fine wine, we need to see how they age. Are they too contemporary? Appealing only to our particular interests now? <i>The Last Jedi</i> does this perhaps even more than <i>The Force Awakens</i> did. It hits right at the heart of globalisation, at nostalgia for a lost past, and at the lack of clear cut right and wrong answers. We're in a post-ironic age now, and Rian Johnson understands this perfectly. Beginnings are always the easiest to do, so J. J. Abrams didn't have as tough a job as some might have thought. Johnson's job, though, was particularly difficult. He had to continue, but not finish. He had to tag on to what had been left open in <i>The Force Awakens</i>, but also leave everything open for <i>Star Wars IX</i>. This has unfortunately led to a lot of criticism from fans. Strangely, though, critics have loved it. I am sure part of this is because critics (and I vaguely include myself in this group) tend to look at a film from the point of view of a director. They try to see what the director was trying to achieve, and ground their judgement on what he has or hasn't done in the past. Thus, having an understanding of <i>Brick</i> will really help you appreciate <i>The Last Jedi</i>. The humour and intelligence is very similar. The complex actions and emotions are there, and yet Johnson doesn't let go of the simplicity and pure exhilaration of a Star Wars movie. The opening sequence is still fantastic. The final battle on the salt planet (Crait) is visually stunning. And there are plenty of throwbacks to the old films (that battle on Crait itself evoking memories of Hoth). However, I fear it is because he is not faithful enough to the old films that he has drawn criticism from fans. He seems to disregard old notions of what the Jedi are. He dismisses any notions of the Force being purely hereditary. And he adds in some new notions, like being able to fly in space, or transporting an illusion of yourself across the universe, or running out of fuel but still being able to outrun Star Destroyers, or Porgs. Even though I think each of these criticisms can be countered, the most important thing for me was that the film just worked. It worked on the level it needed to work and, perhaps as important, I'm curious to see what's going to happen next.Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-72949520266031716742017-10-29T10:48:00.000+00:002017-10-29T10:48:04.388+00:00Mr BrooksUnlike some of his fellow stars from the big movies of the 1990s, such as Tom Cruise and Tom Hanks, Kevin Costner has struggled to escape from his career defining roles of that period. Perhaps more so than the two of them, it is hard to see anyone else but Kevin Costner in his roles. Some of his harshest critics have said that he simply can’t act. But then came Mr Brooks. This is an eerie American Psycho-esque serial killer film. Perhaps following Robin Williams’ dark turn in One Hour Photo and Insomnia, Costner decided to do the same. He is suitably creepy in this role, for the vey reason that he is Kevin Costner. Unfortunately, however, there is a lot about this movie that doesn’t make much sense. A much better film could have been made here, but it was sacrificed to some tired cliches, and some unnecessary side-plots and characters. Apparently the intention was to make a trilogy, and you can see there was some potential here, but poor performance at the box office put an end to that. It is a shame, especially as most money in Hollywood is being pumped into super hero franchises rather than original stories, but equally the writers here could have done so much more with this (or rather so much less), to have made a compelling film and character that people would’ve wanted to see again and again.Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-36487335442321780162017-10-26T14:36:00.000+00:002017-10-26T14:39:56.156+00:00Rogue One: A Star Wars StoryI find it almost impossible to give a truly critical appreciation of this film (or perhaps any Star Wars movie). The amount that's been written about it already makes any comment I might have either inevitable or insignificant. After all, even the trailers for new Star Wars films are analysed over agonisingly (see comments about the trailer of <i>The Last Jedi</i> for proof). There is something in particular about <i>Rogue One</i>, however, that makes it difficult to assess. Although I'm sure the writers/director aimed for the film to be able to stand on its own in some way, it can never really do so, and certainly not for someone who's seen the original films many times. <i>Rogue One</i> is so inextricably bound up with <i>A New Hope</i> that you can't pull them apart. Yes, the plot sort of makes sense on its own, but from the bigger picture of the Death Star, the rebellion, Darth Vader himself, right down to characters glimpsed on the street, games played in the background, and homes built in the same style, you can't escape the original Star Wars here. Even the word 'hope' becomes the key theme of this film. So, I would like to say that the acting is not brilliant, that some of the speeches are poorly written (particularly Jyn's speech before battle), and that the CGI characters are unnecessary and distracting. Nonetheless, the interweaving with the original film is so cleverly done, and in a way that it adds to but does not detract from it, that none of these criticisms seem to matter. The film is almost like an annex to another book. It gives you all the information you wanted, but leaves you wanting just enough more, and leaves you wanting to return to the original again. Give that this, I guess, is what the creators of the film intended from the start, then we have to say they've done an amazing job.Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-65346691180963189242017-10-23T13:56:00.000+00:002017-10-23T13:58:46.729+00:00Blue JasmineWoody Allen has always had a difficult relationship with California. I think it is half-expressed and half-suppressed in this film starring Cate Blanchett. She is absolutely outstanding as 'Jasmine', a New York socialite who has fallen from grace. I can't say much without ruining the film entirely for you. Needless to say, she ends up in California with her sister. Is the choice of location deliberate? Is it where, in Allen's eyes, New Yorkers go to die? Even in <i>Annie Hall</i> we had this dichotomy. Or is it just an innate uncomfortableness that Allen has with the location that seeps through onto the screen? The typical musical montage of beautiful sites, that we're used to from New York (and more recently London, Paris, Barcelona), feels half-hearted and empty here in California. And it's when we flash back to Jasmine's recollections of life on the East Coast that the film suddenly feels alive again. This is where Allen is at his most comfortable. Fifth Avenue. Central Park. The Hamptons. The music, the movement and the people seem to fit better here.<br />
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The film itself is superb, if somewhat too short - which is itself a rare blessing with cinema nowadays. It feels like a study piece that could easily be extended. The dialogue is slightly awkward in places, either because the writing is artificial or the acting not pushed to its limits. There are some clear, crude exposition speeches and convenient meetings that perhaps could have been worked out. I don't know if Allen's self-imposed film-a-year routine helps or hinders in this respect. But the twists and turns of the plot are sudden and unexpected, and I would easily rate this as one of his best films of the last ten years (although admittedly I haven't seen all of them).Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-13255633985890187352012-09-20T15:11:00.001+00:002012-09-20T15:12:17.686+00:00LymelifeYou may not have heard of this (I hadn’t), and I’m not sure
whether to recommend that it’s worth watching. Certainly the film achieved a
lot of awards and critical acclaim, and is rated 63% on Rotten Tomatoes, but it
left me feeling largely unmoved. A teenage boy in Long Island in the 70s
struggles to come to terms with the tension between his parents, being bullied
at school, and his love for his next door neighbour’s daughter. Meanwhile, lyme
disease is spreading in the area, and so is the subsequent paranoia. It is
supposed to be ‘darkly comic’, although I hardly noticed this. As you can tell,
the plot is not exactly revelatory and lyme disease doesn’t really play a
prominent or meaningful part of the film. It is merely an incidental aspect of
the story. Rory and Kieran Culkin are both very good as the brothers – natural and
easy with each other (as you’d expect). Alec Baldwin, despite apparently having
the role written for him, really feels a bit flat here (perhaps I’m too used to
his character from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">30 Rock</i>, though).
The film is shot with that certain filter that makes things look older and
richer in tone than they really are – otherwise you’d hardly notice this was
actually set in the 70s. The father’s ambitions to sell plots of land on a
housing estate appears to be meaningful, but ends up revealing nothing, much
like the lyme disease. This film, really, is profoundly anti-climactic –
perhaps someone’s description of it as ‘darkly comic’ is just another way of
saying ‘not really funny or serious’. Culkin’s relationship with the girl is
rather predictable (even though she dates an older boy, she likes him really),
and the ending of the film doesn’t resolve any of the important issues, but
rather starts new ones. Overall, this film misses its marks in several areas
and yet it would be a shame to disparage it completely, as there is value here,
and the director, Derick Martini, surely has promise.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-61935395173359152562012-09-19T11:09:00.002+00:002012-09-19T11:09:09.833+00:00Before SunriseA young American meets a French girl on a train passing through
Europe. They strike up a conversation and he convinces her to get off the train
with him at Vienna, spending the day together before he leaves the next morning
on a flight home. This is a beautiful, poignant film and if you’re not on the
verge of tears by the end, you must have a heart of stone. Ethan Hawke and
Julie Delpy are the stars. He is rather irritating, but then that is perhaps
what makes this movie work. They very much feel like real people. Delpy herself
is brilliant. We spend almost the entire time with them alone – one long first
date as they discover this strange city. The conversations they have are rather
student-like – philosophising, setting the world to rights – and it seems they
disagree in a lot of ways (he is pessimistic, she optimistic). It’s a simple film
but brave because of that, and the only obvious directorial statement comes at
the end, which I won’t ruin. The back stories are not perhaps greatly
convincing, but that doesn’t matter. They have the day together, and that is
all. They explore the city and learn about each other, falling helplessly in
love as they do so. At times it takes a bit of patience to put up with what is
essentially an hour and a half conversation between two strangers, but you’ll
be rewarded by the end as you realise how involved you’ve become. I would’ve
liked to have seen this film before they made the sequel in 2004 (called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Before Sunset</i>), because the ending here
is open. Now, however, we know the ending is in some way closed (unless we
ignore the sequel, which is possible). As it stands on its own, this film will
strike anyone who’s ever been young and in love (which must be most of us), and
anyone who’s ever felt the inevitability of something special ending (ditto). I’m
not sure if I could bear to watch it again, though.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-45174233426940242932012-09-18T10:52:00.001+00:002012-09-18T10:55:37.134+00:00Me and You and Everyone We KnowWritten, directed by and starring the artist Miranda July,
this is one of the most astonishing films you’ll ever see. To say that it is
quirky, quaint or off-beat I think is to demean it. Likewise, to simply
describe the plot does not do it justice at all: a woman falls in love with a
recently divorced man; a young boy talks to an older woman in an adult online
chat-room; a man develops a perverse, but ultimately innocent relationship with
two teenage girls on his street. All the characters are connected in one way or
another, whether they know it or not. As I said, though, this is hardly a good
description of the film. It has a language of its own. The scene with the
goldfish on the car roof is extraordinary, and perhaps would better encapsulate
the nature of this movie. Likewise the young girl with her hope chest, the man
setting fire to his hand, or the tapping of the electricity turning on every
morning. It is not impressionist, or predominantly visual, although there are
certain tableaus that remain fixed in your mind. The characters speak with a
simplicity that is at times shocking. It’s a naivety, however, that belies the
complexity of the film. It is like a piece of installation art, except with a
plot. The whole thing ends before it feels like it has been tied together, some
of the dialogue seems stilted, and the characters’ actions are implausible at
times, but then this was never a film that was going to give easy answers or
solutions, or offer an accurate picture of real life. It is funny, disturbing,
shocking and revelatory. A highly original, breathtaking movie that you won’t
forget in a hurry.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-3302960147198723942012-09-17T14:40:00.001+00:002012-09-17T14:40:40.571+00:00Near DarkDirected by Kathryn Bigelow twenty years before her big
success recently with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Hurt Locker</i>,
you’d find it very hard to see any similarities. This is a
dark, fairly brutal vampire film from the late 80s, rejecting the comedy or
light-hearted, mainstream nature of thrillers that had gone before it (like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fright Night</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Lost Boys</i>). In fact, the word ‘vampire’ is never mentioned –
hinting almost at an embarrassment, or an attempt to dissociate itself from
other movies. A young man in an American Midwest town meets a girl and offers
her a ride home. When he leans in for a kiss, she bites his neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both actors are unknown, and you think at
first they won’t last much further than the first act, but they are in fact to
be our main characters. As the man begins to turn into a vampire, he is picked
up by the girl and her sinister gang (including a very creepy kid who has
stayed young despite being very old). As with most vampire literature, the
vampires here represent the dangerous underside of society – here a biker gang
of punks/rebels. This is highlighted when a policeman interrogates the young
man about what drugs he’s taken, or by his father’s concern that he’s dropped
in with the ‘wrong crowd’. Likewise, as with a lot of vampire movies, time
seems to advance very quickly (either during the day so it can be night, or
during the night so it can be dawn). This is generally due to poor
script-writing, but in a certain sense just can’t be avoided. The scene in the
bar is exceptionally brutal, especially the shocking moment where the reason
for the spurs becomes evident. It is undoubtedly Bill Paxton who steals the
show throughout. There is also great music by Tangerine Dream, which is much emulated.
Unlike most other vampire movies, however, there is a cure – although this is
never explained or fully justified. As you can guess this film has a huge cult
following (and deservedly so), and is worth watching now to catch up on the history of Bigelow
(note the cinema showing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aliens</i> in
the background of one shot), especially as her next film about Bin Laden seems
set to make a lot of headlines.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-32792886493981292402012-09-13T15:02:00.002+00:002012-09-13T15:04:45.123+00:00Ned KellyI’m not sure when seeing Heath Ledger on screen will stop
being moving. His role here is particularly poignant in retrospect: Ned Kelly
died when he was about 25, only a few years younger than Ledger. This film is
directed by Gregor Jordan, the man who made the very strange <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Buffalo Soldiers</i> - so don’t expect a
‘straight’ version of the story. There are lingering shots of the Australian
landscape and wildlife, along with a dreamy narration by Ledger. Indeed, the
film is based on the book ‘Our Sunshine’, which purports to give us the
internal monologue of the man. The problem is, there are certain facts about
Kelly which can’t be ignored, and which this director seems to play down. If we
were to take this film as truth, Kelly was an innocent man, abused and
persecuted by the police until he was eventually forced in to becoming an
outlaw, reluctant to hurt, kill or rob anyone. A quick Google will tell you
this was not true at all. There is so much information about his life, in fact,
that Jordan seems to have taken the position of giving us an impression only of
the character of Kelly. It certainly does that, although the inclusion of a
love interest (played by Naomi Watts), should have been avoided. Ledger, at
times, seems too soft for the type of man Kelly was. As with all films based on
real life, it is hard for the director to detract from the interest of the
story to impress upon us how he’s told the story. I expect if you already know
the history of Ned Kelly there are few surprises or points of interest in this
film. The accents are variable, especially from Orlando Bloom, and of course
the story is told with a modern, humanistic perspective (when the man himself
was probably far from it). The ending is something of an anti-climax – there is
no great vindication or real showdown, no great speeches. Kelly just seems to
give up, and the resignation of his last line is thought-provoking in its way,
but deflating. It feels like Jordan was compromised between his attempt to film
an impressionistic movie and a historical one. The result is consequently ambiguous.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-78613777950555668212012-09-12T09:39:00.001+00:002012-09-12T09:39:11.433+00:00Father of InventionWhat is Kevin Spacey doing? It feels like he’s not making
many films, spending all his time at the Old Vic, but actually his work rate is
the same as it’s always been (in 1999 he made one film – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">American Beauty</i>). Perhaps the films he’s making, then, just aren’t
as good as his old ones? Or the roles he’s taking in them are minor? In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Father of Invention</i>, from 2010, he plays
a disgraced inventor, who has spent ten years in a federal prison, trying to
restart his life and career. It’s a comedy that’s not really funny. He manages
to convince his daughter to let him live with her while he rebuilds his life.
Her flatmates, I assume, are supposed to be quirky and funny (they’re not). The
film plods along fairly ordinarily, but it is enjoyable enough. Probably the
funniest character is the man now sleeping with his wife, played by Craig
Robinson, who is secretly his biggest fan. Johnny Knoxville also makes an
intriguing distraction, even if not especially funny, as the supermarket
manager. The music video at the end is a weird aberration, not really in
keeping with the rest of the movie. The world of the film is not as well
crafted (people and places come and go randomly) as it could’ve been. You won’t
be surprised to learn that Spacey’s character manages to restart his career and
rebuild his relationship with his daughter, whilst learning what is truly
important in his life, and possibly beginning a romantic affair with one of her
flatmates. The context and the characters might be new here, but the premise
isn’t, and the writing isn’t good or funny enough to pull it above the rest of
the films competing for your attention at the moment.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-5727348211805450012012-09-07T09:44:00.001+00:002012-09-07T09:44:18.066+00:00The Big LebowskiEvery time I see this film I like it more - except for last
week. Last week, having enjoyed most of the length of the film, I reached the
end somewhat disappointed. Why is this? The film is strange in more ways than
is obvious. The narration by Sam Elliott which bookends the movie, and his
brief appearance in the middle of it, is one of the more bizarre aspects. The
film could easily exist without it. Yet it is a narration which purposefully
tells us nothing, and does so from a explicitly biased perspective. We the
audience are not supposed to relate in any way with the Texan. Is he voice of
authority, morals, the outsider or society? It was something he said that left
me disappointed, but I’ll get to that later. The Dude, Jeff Lebowski, played by
Jeff Bridges, is assaulted by two men who have confused him with another Jeff
Lebowski – a far richer and more important one: ostensibly the ‘big Lebowski’
of the title. From this confusion, The Dude becomes involved in a supposed
kidnapping and ransom demand. All he wants, really, is a new rug. He has little
to no ambition or intentions. He is just trying to get by, or, as he says: the
dude abides. It feels, however, that he is a private detective in a plot from
the 1940s (something like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinatown</i>).
The actual private detective that he meets spells this out: he’s playing one
side against the other, in bed with everybody, including the beautiful woman.
This couldn’t be further from the truth, of course. The Dude has virtually no
idea what’s going on. It is a brilliant performance by Jeff Bridges, but we
shouldn’t forget John Goodman and Philip Seymour Hoffman (compare him here to
his role in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mission Impossible</i>). The
music is excellent and the dialogue is a perfect example of the surreal-deadpan
style of the Coen brothers. What happens, though, at the end? The Texan’s
narration closes the film off, and it was this remark in particular that perturbed
me: ‘things seemed to have worked out pretty well for the Dude’. Did they? When
you look at it, he is actually worse off than he was at the beginning: one of
his closest friends has died, he lost his rug, and didn’t get paid anything by
Lebowski. Perhaps the comment is ironic, perhaps the Dude is happy because he
can go on bowling, living his life his way with no disturbance. It would feel
wrong if he suddenly was given a lot of money, or found love. Something here
feels wrong. Can the film be ended satisfactorily? Did the Coen brothers do the
best they could with the character and the plot they had created?<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-15010738092882690602012-09-06T11:57:00.003+00:002012-09-06T11:59:01.219+00:00The JacketA soldier in the Gulf War is shot in the head, but somehow
survives. He suffers from amnesia and blackouts, which leads to him being sent
to a mental asylum when he can’t remember how he ended up on the side of a road
next to a dead policeman. The chief doctor in this asylum has developed a
particularly brutal treatment for some of his patients (those whom he believes
are criminals): he feeds them drugs, ties them up in a straight jacket, and
puts them inside a morgue drawer for several hours. Inside this drawer, the
ex-soldier, played by Adrien Brody, suffers from vivid, painful flashbacks.
However, he soon realises that as well as flashbacks, he can also have
flash-forwards. In fact, these are not so much memories from the future, but
actual visitations in that future. He can interact with the people there and
change events. As you can tell, the concept makes little or no sense. You
either go along with it or you switch off (which, given the film’s rating on
Rotten Tomatoes, I think a lot of people did). It is intriguing, but the acting,
especially from Keira Knightley, is heavy handed. Brody, usually excellent, is
a little vague and uninteresting here. His character is doomed from the start,
so it’s hard to get behind him or engage with his character much. What’s more,
many of the other characters (played by some well-known actors) do not resolve their
stories in any meaningful way – Daniel Craig, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Kris
Kristofferson all seem wasted here. As with any time travel story, the logical
flaws are hard to overcome. It reminded me in some ways of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Source Code</i>. The coincidences of the story seem to override the
logic. He just so happens to visit a point and a place in the future where he
meets someone crucial to his life. This would be ok if the dilemma of the main
character is at all compelling or interesting, but unfortunately it isn't. Why is he never vindicated for the murder he didn't commit?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> </span>We
leave the film somewhat confused and disappointed.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-86548065607164719302012-09-05T15:15:00.001+00:002012-09-05T15:15:24.011+00:00Pretty BirdI found myself watching this film late the other night.
Unable to stay awake, but intrigued, I recorded it to watch later. It is a
strangely alluring film, but one that makes little sense in the end. Billy
Crudup is a man with an idea – an idea to build a rocket pack. He ropes in an
old friend as investor, and an out-of-work engineer (Paul Giamatti) to do the
actual science, whilst he tries to market what they’ve got. This is a comedy,
in case you’re wondering, but its humour is subtle and weird. The ‘where would
we be if Oppenheimer hadn’t invented the nuclear bomb?’ speech is brilliantly
dark. We’re never quite sure if Crudup’s character is a genius, mad, evil or
stupid. When they realise they have actually invented something that works, things
start to get weird(er). It should be the point where they start to make money,
but instead their friend/investor goes bankrupt and Crudup disappears with the
rocket pack. This is based on a true story, which makes it even stranger, and
perhaps explains its lack of dramatic completion at the end. In real life, the
belt can never be found – in drama/film, however, it has to be. We need some
sort of completion to the cycle of the action. So the film ends, and we are as
puzzled as we’ve ever been about human behaviour. Crudup is exceptional, and
the film never tries to be anything that it isn’t. It reminded me of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Primer</i> in many ways – quietly brilliant
and disturbing.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-73160420805474856342012-08-31T09:28:00.002+00:002012-08-31T10:39:56.684+00:00SavagesFor the first time in the history of Stranded Cinema, I have
an exclusive. Despite it not being released until late September in the UK, I
have already seen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Savages</i>. In fact, I
saw it at a free preview screening several months ago. Although the agreement
not to discuss the film at these screenings is hardly enforced, I have held
back. However, as it's been released in the USA, I feel that I can now post my
thoughts safely. It’s the latest project from Oliver Stone, developed from a
novel by Don Winslow. The first thing to say is that this is a terrible film.
Two marijuana growers in California, who share a girlfriend called ‘O’, get
into trouble with a Mexican cartel who want to take over the market. Their
girlfriend is eventually taken hostage and they must struggle to find a way to
release her. The plot, as you can tell, sounds like a Tarantino film from the
90s, and that’s exactly what it feels like it is trying to be. The narrative
starts, however, with little or no set up. Why do we care about these
characters, who are little more than drug dealers with heart? What interest do
we have in them? We’re given a narration by ‘O’, but rather than helping it is
annoying. It continues far too long. ‘Show, don’t tell’ is the classic
imperative of good cinema which Stone has ignored here. The audience isn’t
stupid, unless you want them to be. The narration is drifting and vacant, over
slow motion or blurred shots, portentous in its content, with
pseudo-intellectual insights such as ‘I had orgasms, he had wargasms’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Salma Hayek plays the Mexican cartel leader –
a deeply flawed, unbelievable character, badly acted. Someone can’t be a
heartless psychotic businesswoman, and a loving mother. There is an extent to
which this can’t be stretched. Travolta is good enough as a slimy federal
agent, but the best thing about this film (as in most films he’s in) is Benicio
del Toro. He plays the right-hand man of Hayek’s character, and tours
California with a gang of Mexican gardeners, turning up at people’s houses and
torturing/killing them. He is so good it’s almost funny. Even his character,
however, is stretched to breaking point towards the end. The one powerful
moment of this film is the revelation of the rape, but what is the point? It
means nothing and has no implications to the plotline. Lastly, the
double-ending will annoy almost everyone who sees it, and is again pointless.
The final conclusion of the film is deeply unsatisfactory. Nothing is resolved.
It is escapism as its worst – they leave the country and all of their
responsibilities to live happily ever after. It may be that the film was
improved with further editing after the preview screenings, but there are
fundamental flaws here which I don’t think can be ironed out. Any work of art
that at some point resorts to the dictionary definition of its title for any
sort of meaning, as this film does, has lost all hope.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-65969925209883615422012-08-30T13:15:00.002+00:002012-08-30T13:16:28.244+00:00The Hunt for Red OctoberThis film has one of the most frequently misspelt titles of
all time – there is no ‘the’ before ‘red’. Despite knowing who was in it and
what it was generally about, I’d never seen it fully, and thus was unaware it
formed part of the Jack Ryan story, the character from Tom Clancy’s novels who
also features in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Clear and Present Danger</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Patriot Games</i>. It is the first in
the series (although apparently contains many references to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Patriot Games</i>, suggesting it was written
later). You don’t need to know this when watching the film, but it does help.
Ryan’s character is far more interesting than your usual action hero. Here he
discovers that the Russians have launched a new, silent submarine, capable of
avoiding sonar and that it’s heading for America. What he soon learns, however,
is that the officers are intending to defect. Connery does his best to restrain
his strong Scottish accent, but it is not very convincing. There is a strange,
very heavily signposted transition between the languages as the camera zooms in
on a man speaking Russian and zooms out on him speaking English. I don’t think
there is a better way to disturb your audience and disrupt the flow of a film.
Connery’s character itself is somewhat unlikeable, and it is only with some
extremely improbable plot-turns that Ryan (played by Alec Baldwin) gets to meet
him face to face. It is a complex story, although there are some rather obvious
devices to help it on its way: ‘I know how he’s going to get them off the submarine’
Ryan says at one point. He then doesn’t tell us, but keeps it a secret until
the critical moment. It is ultimately a hollow film – teasing us with a deeper
meaning, when there really is none. It is not especially tense, thrilling or
dramatic, but good enough – which, most of the time, is all we want.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-266742367566729152012-08-28T15:32:00.000+00:002012-08-28T15:32:28.960+00:00River of GrassThis film is the debut of writer-director Kelly Reichardt
,who has since gone on to direct <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Meek’s
Cutoff</i>. All of her films so far have created excitement in the film-world,
but she has yet to intrude into mainstream consciousness (if that is even her
intention). <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">River of Grass</i> is a
small-scale, independent film about a bored housewife who gets involved with a
younger man in a small town in Florida. Everything is told from the perspective
of the woman, and we hear throughout her narration on events in a relaxed,
monotone drawl. It feels at times like a homemade movie. The camera is shaky,
the picture grainy, and dialogue mumbled (and could be one of the inspirations for
mumblecore). Despite this, after watching I was surprised the film was as old
as 1994. It feels fresh and modern (in comparison to other films from the same
year, like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Speed</i> for example). The
characters are casual, even after they think they’ve killed someone with a gun
they find. We’re uncertain throughout how we’re supposed to judge their
actions, and who we are supposed to support, or reprehend (she leaves her
children at home alone to go out to a bar; he threatens his grandmother with a
gun). The ending is sudden, but not exactly shocking. It’s only surprising
perhaps that there is no sexuality involved in the story. They are two bored
characters, beyond being desperate and lonely, lacking any purpose or meaning
to their lives. There is a raw sound to the movie. It is intoxicating,
sometimes painful to watch, and impresses indelibly on the memory. A strange,
beguiling film that will alter you imperceptibly, but permanently.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-32904796259469711472012-08-23T10:30:00.001+00:002012-08-23T10:30:28.521+00:00Sorority RowA film like this has to be judged by its own standards, or those
of its genre. Any attempt to compare it to cinema more widely, or art and literature
as a whole, would result in calamity. There’s no mistaking who this film was
made for and why. Five final year students at a sorority house in an anonymous
University in the US accidentally kill their friend. They decide to hide the
body, but nine months later, when they are graduating, something starts picking
them off, one by one. This may sound very, very familiar, and it is. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Know What You Did Last Summer</i> did this
twelve years earlier. However, as I found out after watching the film, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sorority Row</i> is a ‘reimagining’ of an
80s original: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The House on Sorority Row</i>.
So the claims of which came first are perhaps moot. Nonetheless, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sorority Row</i> cannot be said to be
original or innovative in anything that it does. To a certain extent teen horrors
aren’t expected to do this, but the best, and most famous, always stretch the
boundaries of what’s possible within their limits. As with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lesbian Vampire Killers</i>, it may seem relatively easy to make a film
like this. There are, as Randy from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Scream</i>
might say, certain rules<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> that one must
abide by in order to successfully make a horror movie. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sorority Row</i> fails on several counts.</span> Who, for instance, is
the main character? We’re never really sure. This needs to be defined fairly
early, unless you want to constantly tease the audience with who will or won’t survive
– but this is a risky step itself. Is the killer frightening enough? Are they supernatural
or human? Do they have a certain unique style, or way of killing? It seems some
of this has been considered (the tyre iron), but not all of it. When we
discover who the killer actually is, the reason for the killer to have acted
the way they did becomes meaningless. This ‘reveal’, in fact, is one of the
hardest things to pull off in these films. Here it is done poorly (someone
spots something in someone’s conveniently open bag), although there is at least
some surprise as to who it is. The murders themselves are so obviously flagged
that they’re not at all frightening, gruesome, or even funny (as they sometimes
are in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Scream </i>franchise). It
seems we’ve become so used to films like this, that we need them to be more and
more extreme, leading to the torture porn in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hostel</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Saw</i>, which
even I refuse to watch. The end of the film has multiple, anti-climactic
conclusions and we leave it feeling we have experienced very little style, and
virtually no substance. Even by the standards of the genre, this film is poor.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-23921684209198172152012-08-22T10:32:00.000+00:002012-08-22T10:34:41.871+00:00Total Recall<i>Total Recall</i> has been remade and will be released next week.
It is perhaps an obvious choice for a remake – contemporary CGI, modern taste
for realism and irony, and better actors (Colin Farrell, Jessica Biel and Kate
Beckinsale), have the potential to make it a huge, rollercoaster of a
blockbuster. I wonder, however, how much of the sinister play with reality and memory
the new version will retain. The strap-line on its posters says ‘What is
Real?’, suggesting that this will be a major theme in the film. In the
original, we remain uncertain until quite late in the movie as to whether
anything we see is actually happening or not. There is a scene in which the
people trying to capture Quaid/Hauser (played by Schwarzenegger) attempt to
persuade him that he is dreaming, that he is not really a spy on Mars, but an
ordinary construction worker on Earth. He sees through this lie and manages to
escape, but the dilemma is crucial to the film and how it manipulates its
audience. We are the real construction workers<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on Earth, fantasising that we might be spies on Mars. We are placing
ourselves in the shoes of Quaid/Hauser, and this scene in which he is told he
is dreaming is ultimately directed at us. It speaks directly to us, and the lie
is actually the truth. The film as a whole rather than encouraging us to
believe we can be more than construction workers, in fact reinforces our
position as such. It gives us this fantasy, allows us to play with it for two
hours, so that we might accept reality more happily. I’m also fascinated by the
many questions that Quaid/Hauser’s identity raises for us. For Quaid, Hauser is
a different person, someone he cannot be, and this is in fact how all of us
treat our past and future selves. They are distinct from us, yet we recognise
whilst repressing the inevitable links. There’s an metafictive play with the
names, too: Quaid is Irish-American and Hauser is German-Dutch. The film was directed
by Verhoeven (a Ducthman) with American money. Significant? I don’t know. I
await with both excitement and concern this new version.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will have lost the quirks of Verhoeven’s
direction – the fast changes of situation, the panning camera, zooming in from
a distance on its target – but what will it have gained?<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-60602387459490838302012-08-21T13:34:00.002+00:002012-08-21T13:36:10.304+00:00ShalakoDespite the successes of some Westerns in recent years,
cinema audiences still seem ambivalent about the genre. In the late 80s and
early 90s there was quite a resurgence with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Young
Guns</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dances with Wolves, Unforgiven</i>,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Open Range, </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tombstone</i>. More recently we’ve had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There Will Be Blood, True Grit,</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Appaloosa,
3:10 to Yuma</i> and Cowboys<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> &
Aliens. </i>The genre has expanded to include revisionist, noir, sci-fi, fantasy,
horror, futuristic, contemporary and comic book westerns. Despite this, you
will still occasionally meet people who’ll say ‘I don’t like Westerns’. For a genre
to be discounted entirely seems rather dramatic, and may stem from a European
distance to these movies (despite the efforts of Sergio Leone). It is perhaps
down to films like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shalako</i>, made in
1968, that the reputation of Westerns still sometimes suffers. Starring Sean
Connery and Brigitte Bardot, it purports to be a more sympathetic Western – the
Indians are not unreasonable savages, they just want their land. However, they
are still men in wigs, their faces painted brown, screaming as they attack,
simple-minded in their intentions. The film reminded me a lot of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Zulu</i>, made four years earlier, but with
much more success. The title, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shalako</i>,
probably put a lot of people off. The entirely miscast Connery as the main
character doesn’t help, nor does Bardot in a strange, uncharacteristic role
(one of the few American films she’s in). It feels very much like, and probably
was, a cast put together before a script. The film is in fact far smaller in
scale than it purports to be. There are sweeping landscapes, but the plot
follows only a few characters for little more than two days. They are attacked
and surrounded by Indians and try to escape. Eventually they are caught again
by the Indians and a final showdown is expected. What we receive at the end,
however, is highly disappointing. There is no substantial conclusion or
resolution. The real enemy, of course, as in all these movies, is the
in-fighting between the white men. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shalako</i>
is as tremendously flawed as a film can be. We never have sympathy for any of
the characters, despite Connery’s natural charisma, or Bardot’s beauty. It is
in all a weird movie, probably better forgotten.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-49258791179223382512012-08-20T09:25:00.002+00:002012-08-20T09:25:34.087+00:00Lesbian Vampire KillersI’m ashamed to say I saw this film, although in my defence it
was on the television while I was waiting for someone. That person didn’t
arrive and I ended up seeing the whole movie. The title is self-explanatory.
There’s no subterfuge around what the creators were trying to do (when a
vampire is killed, white gunk spurts out of them – I probably don’t need to
spell out what it’s supposed to be). In fact, my one complaint would be not
that they went too far, but that they didn’t go far enough. It could’ve been
far scarier/sexier, if they’d been willing to be daring. Unfortunately what we
have is a rather tame B-movie that only half-delivers on its promises. The set
up is fairly abysmal – why does the vampire queen have to wait until the last
in the family line? Why is the main character the last in the line? Likewise,
towards the end, why do the vampires leave the two lovers alone for a few
minutes – just so the script writers can fit a bit of dialogue in? These may
seem like trivial details, but I believe it is exactly on details like these
that B-movies need to be perfect. They need a compelling, believable set up and
strong character motives – that, in fact, is almost all they need. See the
films of John Carpenter for how to do this properly. The film also needs a good
ending – here it is poor to the point of boredom and distraction. There are
multiple climaxes with no point or impetus – people running backwards and
forwards in the woods mindlessly. It’s obvious that this film owes a lot to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shaun of the Dead</i>, but its creators can’t
deliver half of the wit, irony, music, pacing and fast camera movement that Edgar
Wright can. There is, however, one great line. It’s a line that you secretly
wish every character in a horror film would say: ‘I know there’s some really
strange stuff going on, but can’t we just pretend like it’s not happening?’.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-1802008466272812552012-08-16T10:22:00.000+00:002012-08-16T10:22:48.664+00:00Dead Poets SocietyOf the many gaps in my movie knowledge, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dead Poets Society</i> was perhaps a significant one, but not because
it is considered a great movie (it received no votes in the Sight and Sound
poll). It’s a film instead that had and still has a profound impact on my
generation. It came out just as I was starting in secondary school myself, and
there are a few parallels to my own experiences (albeit this film is in fact
set in 1959). I had seen parts of it, and knew a great deal more about it from
the many secondary references that exist in other films, TV shows etc. It was,
as they say, not a movie but an experience, seeming to summarise the feelings of
a generation. The performance of Robin Williams and the appearance of several
teenage stars (Ethan Hawke and Robert Sean Leonard) no doubt helped to make it
popular. Undoubtedly it is deeply moving, and you’d have a heart of stone not
to feel some emotion at the ending – even if it’s fairly manipulative. The film
as a whole, though, speeds rapidly along, and only gives us a glimpse of the
story that we are watching. It is, after all, adapted from a novel. We seem to
skip much that is of importance – his audition and rehearsals, for one. The society of the title actually plays only a small part in the film. There
is also little real motivation for the action of the ending. We get the sense
of something richer, but don’t experience it. The direction of Peter Weir is
good, as always, but the philosophy that Williams promotes is fairly simplistic,
as is the attitude to poetry – dominated by American and in particular Beat generation poets.
We feel such a strong connection to the 1950s because the issue of
over-protective, traditional parents and a repressive society that an
individual struggles against is something that, whilst prominent then, stays
with us always. It is this, despite everything else that the film provides,
that is the main pull and message of the movie.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-71091145656692549472012-08-14T10:46:00.003+00:002012-08-14T10:46:54.161+00:00Horse FeathersI can’t remember when I first saw the Marx brothers. This is
odd. I imagine most people can or will remember (if they haven’t seen them
yet). There is nothing in the world like them anymore, although there may have
been at the time they made their movies. Nonetheless, where to rank their films
as cinema is still an issue – are they just good comedies, or something more? It
could be argued the sheer force and relentless nature of the jokes makes them great
– even if, as films, they are simple and somewhat inane. They take the physical
comedy of Chaplin to a new level, adding not just the verbal wit, but songs,
dance and music. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Horse Feathers</i>,
however, isn’t the title with which to introduce someone to the Marx brothers.
The films starts almost immediately with a bizarre, nonsensical monologue by Groucho,
followed by a song and dance routine. It includes great lines such as ‘Well, I
thought my razor was dull until I heard his speech’ and ‘I came into this
college to get my son out of it’, but there is a lot there which I didn’t, or
couldn’t, understand. As an introduction it’s baffling, but it at least makes
it clear to the audience what the Marx brothers are trying to do here: tell
jokes, regardless of any plot. The humour is strange in places (this film was
made 80 years ago after all), the jokes sometimes either seem not funny at all
or offensive, and the plot is flimsy and strained, but there are equally moments
when you’ll laugh so hard you’ll cry. ‘I married your mother because I wanted
children. Imagine my disappointment when you arrived’. Their best films are
more than just a collection of sketches like this, but still in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Horse Feathers </i>you will find the relentless
verbal and physical humour and some great songs, including the classic ‘everyone
says I love you’ – with different verses depending on the perspectives of the
different characters.<br />
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Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-18797668446511134312012-08-10T08:50:00.000+00:002012-08-10T08:51:31.436+00:00Edge of Darkness<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the strangest remakes of recent years has been this
film, derived from a 1980s British television series. Unfortunately I think I only
ever saw the first episode of the series, and so I can’t offer much of a
comparison between the two. However, it’s relatively obvious from watching the
film that there is a great plot and script behind it all that must have come
from the series. Indeed, the director Martin Campbell was the director of the original
series (he has since directed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Casino
Royale</i>, but also <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Legend of Zorro</i>).
This, unfortunately, is where the comparisons end. Perhaps the greatest
disaster of this remake was the casting of Mel Gibson. He is quintessentially
wrong for this role, and not just because his attempt at a Boston accent is
jarring. Production started just after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Departed</i> won several Oscars, and you can’t help but hear the studio saying ‘let’s
do another thriller set in Boston, only this time let’s get Mel Gibson!’. The
plot is long, the characters are complex, and it all feels too much for this
film. What’s more, the idea of a nuclear threat is not so strong today as it
was in the 1980s, and the feel of a secretive, oppressive government (based on
Thatcher at the time) isn’t as compelling anymore. Having not seen the
original, there is still intrigue here, but the whole thing falls awkwardly
together. The saccharine ending in particular I can’t help but feel was
designed by Hollywood, and the two anonymous men in suits who follow Gibson
around, like Men in Black, are one of the most ridiculous aspects of the
remake. It is perhaps a television series that could be adapted well to the
cinema, but this film isn’t it.<o:p></o:p></div>Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-631705643795707150.post-36317163023226564412012-08-09T09:23:00.004+00:002012-08-09T09:23:52.927+00:00The Curious Case of Benjamin ButtonDavid Fincher’s career as a director has been a strange one
so far, and I still can’t decide if I like his movies or not. Audiences seem
equally uncertain. Perhaps it’s because although Fincher’s films all have a
certain style and economy, his stamp is not as obvious or noticeable as, say,
the Coen brothers or Spielberg. A lot of people might have seen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Curious Case of Benjamin Button</i>, or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Social Network</i>, and not known they
were watching the work of the same director as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Se7en</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alien 3</i>. He’s
one of only a few directors, however, that I can say I’ve seen every one of his
films, for one reason or another. The last one was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Benjamin Button</i>, which I’d never been as greatly interested to
watch as some of his others. I have to say it’s marred by the cliché of an old
woman narrating a story from her deathbed. Indeed, aside from the one unique
aspect of Button’s existence (which you will probably know about even if you
haven’t seen the film), there is nothing surprising about this movie. We follow
his life story from beginning to end – it’s ups and downs, romantic or
otherwise. He does not discover something revolutionary about the meaning of
life, imparts no great wisdom, nor does he receive any. I kept expecting a
twist, or a deeper meaning, but none came. There is no reason for what happens to him. The film is developed from a short
story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and that is what it felt like – short. It should,
ultimately perhaps, have been a short film. There is not enough here to be a
full-length feature, despite it containing the whole life of a man. It does not
have the depth or richness that a novel, or film, should have. There is also something
very creepy about Brad Pitt as an old/young man, especially in his relationship
with the girl. Perhaps this is what Fincher was going for - it’s sometimes very
hard to tell what his intentions are. Despite displaying that same style and
economy, the same careful attention to detail, the film feels empty, and I think you'd find it hard to find someone who ranks it among Fincher's best.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>Nick Ollivèrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04754650963907084286noreply@blogger.com0