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.