Tuesday

Ingmar Bergman died yesterday. Considering how he contested old and proposed new conceptions of death and the meaning of life, I think it would be wrong to reel out platitudes about his work. Yes, he was one of the greatest directors, perhaps my favourite, but that hasn't changed since last week. The man has died, and I didn't know the man. I always felt his writing was similar to my own, or to what I wanted my own to be, but that could as easily be wishful thinking rather than reality. Except for The Seventh Seal two Saturdays ago, I haven't seen his work for a while. His death will make people re-examine his films, which cannot be a bad thing. Personally, last night I picked up his book, Images: My Life in Film, and read a few extracts from it. I like to hope that he wasn't afraid of death and, at least when this book was written, it appears so: 'First you are, then you are not. I find this deeply satisfying... Everything is out of this world. Everything exists and happens inside us, and we flow into and out of one another. It's perfectly fine like that'. He also had something to say about directors, which seems instead to reveal the human condition rather than any particular occupation, and I'll leave you with it: 'Almost everyone has something or someone to blame. Not so with directors. They possess the unfathomable possibility of forging their own realities or fates or lives or whatever you want to call it. I have often found solace in that thought, bitter solace, and some vexation'.

Monday

The astute amongst you may have noticed that I saw The Lady Vanishes and Transformers on the same day. This exercise, whilst entirely accidental, was quite revealing. Perhaps it's unfair to compare the two, but it did demonstrate to me how much more could be achieved with less, if you see what I mean. The Lady Vanishes is based around suspense and characterisation, where Transformers relies on special effects. There was, admittedly, a sense of humour in it, but I'd like to suggest it was a very unoriginal one. It has that ironical, self-reflexive, post-modern comedy that action movies have had for a while now. It's no longer funny or new. In fact, as this film shows, it's very easy to pull off. You see it frequently in remakes and sequels where they deconstruct the original franchise. Spider-Man, for instance, was brilliant at this. But that was five years ago. If Transformers had been made then, it would've been funny. As it is, it just comes off seeming repetitive. In The Lady Vanishes, of course, the humour is brilliant and sharp. And you are driven forward by the plot. The makers of Transformers could have easily done the same - the basic concept is entertaining - but they somehow managed to make it worse, rather than better. As I said, a revealing exercise.

Sunday

I can't remember when I first saw Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes. After watching it yesterday, though, I can confirm it is one of the best films ever made. Saying that, however, I instantly hesitate. Is it a great movie, or merely a well made thriller? Perhaps you might ask if there is a difference. An obstacle to interpretation is all the cliches and conventions which seem overused to us, but were probably invented with this film - made in 1938. For instance, the man and woman hating each other but slowly falling in love is predictable, but I don't think anywhere else executed with such charm. Maybe there are a few weak plot-points, but there is also so much that is brilliant. The two Englishmen who just want to get back in time for their cricket match are the classic comic relief role - endlessly copied. Whilst the film is funny, it also manages to be truly threatening and sinister, something Hitchcock was always good at (the poisoned brandy, for starters), and the ending is magnificently satisfying. It's not surprising to learn, then, that this was the movie that launched Hitchcock to Hollywood.

Saturday

I have to say frankly that Transformers was bad. As a blockbuster, I suppose I would rate it as ok, the special effects in particular were excellent, but there were too many awful or mediocre moments for it to raise itself above that. The dialogue in general was fairly bad, and the pacing uneven. It begins well, following established lines, but has one of its biggest exposition scenes five minutes from the end, which felt wrong. Overall, there were too many plot-holes to mention. It was funny at points, but in a predictable way. The teenage kid (who was annoying to begin with) after the girl (who was unrealistically attractive) was an inevitably bad sub-plot. There were slightly too many minor-characters, in fact. The NSA computer workers could easily have been cut. The targeting towards kids was on two occasions sickening: firstly, Optimus Prime introducing himself and his autobots with their special skills felt a bit like a TV commercial, and then when two of the Transformers are fighting on the motorway a boy in a car turns to his mother and says 'Cool! Mom!'. I think they showed too much of the Transformers too soon. As I was saying yesterday, there are too many special effects instead of a concentration on human reaction, so at times it becomes simply loud and confusing. At other times, however, I have to admit it was impressive and exciting. So, not entirely a waste of money, but not the best blockbuster of the summer either.

Friday

I found out today that I've been attributing my favourite anecdote from the world of cinema to the wrong person. I for some reason thought it was David Lean (whilst directing Lawrence of Arabia), but it apparently was John Ford who upon being asked by his crew what they were going to film out in the middle of nowhere replied something like: 'The most interesting and fascinating thing in the entire world: the human face'. Perhaps David Lean did say it, only he prefaced his remarks with 'As John Ford said...'. It's hard to tell, but this other quote from Ford seems to sway the balance: 'Anybody can direct a picture once they know the fundamentals. Directing is not a mystery, it's not an art. The main thing about directing is: photograph the people's eyes'. It seems this principle is somewhat lost on modern Hollywood. They concentrate on the explosion, when they should focus on the reaction of the actors - that's what we're really interested in. It's from the actor's response that we get the sense of how to interpret what has happened. Really, we don't need the explosion, just the actor. And, of course, this is what you get in some very cheap productions, as if by accident - when forced to leave out the explosions, you actually get a better film.

Unfortunately I've not been able to see any films this week due to a lack of funds, and I've been a day behind in my posts due to laziness, but hopefully today (Saturday) I will both catch up with posting and see a movie.

Thursday

I have received rebukes from friends and family when I mention The Simpsons Movie (out today). 'You don't want to see that, do you?' they ask me. This surprises me. I thought everyone wanted to see it. Where has this, apparent, sudden reversal of attitude come from? Perhaps they feel that whilst The Simpsons are good, a whole movie of them is too much, and is just a money-making opportunity. The makers have 'sold-out', maybe. I don't think this is true at all, and I certainly don't think the people who worked hundreds of hours on this project think so either. The Simpsons has been consistently funny since its inception. Its development has been intriguing, and its more recent almost surreal episodes can be hilarious. I've no reason to think the film won't be just as good, especially given the brilliant trailers. One friend told me that The Simpsons are 'establishment', and has lost its ability (if it ever had it) to be critical, or cutting edge. This is certainly true if you compare to to Family Guy, which is constantly shocking, but I do think it's an unfair criticism, and not really related to the quality of the movie. Anyway, as you can guess, I'm looking forward to it, and hopefully you'll have my review soon.

Wednesday

I have a great problem assessing the quality of an acting performance. I read reviews about how actors were good, or great, or average, or rubbish, or better in this than that, but when I see the films myself I find it very hard to understand what the reviewer was talking about. I'll know, perhaps, when a performance has been terrible, but the difference between good or great is impossible for me to assess. What are the criteria? 'I believed him more than the other actor'? 'He was the character'? I've heard people criticise Alec Guinness' role in Star Wars, and I've heard said of some actors that they 'phoned in their performance'. What does this mean? I always thought Alex Guinness was great as Obi-Wan Kenobi. I once saw something that analysed the performance of Johnny Depp, and decided his brilliance was his acting off-dialogue (i.e. when he's not speaking). I understand this, and try to look for it in movies, but still it's a discipline I find hard to comprehend. My own recent attempts have taught me a new understanding for how difficult it is, but I remain unable to respect the ability as much as I do the writer, director, composer or photographer of a film.

Tuesday

The other great thing about I, Robot is that there is no love story. Or there is but it is unfulfilled. The relationship between Will Smith and Brdiget Moynahan is interesting - it appears to follow conventional lines with them disliking each other to begin with - and there is some chemistry there, but somehow no hint of romance. They're both roughly the same age, yet it would seem wrong for them to get involved. Some viewers were maybe disappointed, but I liked it a lot. I think all the best films avoid romance, or only suggest it, rather than have the couple kissing as the credits roll. My favourite example comes from The Thirty-Nine Steps. Throughout, the man and woman have been getting closer. At the end you expect some sort of union, the camera pulls away at waist level, but all we see is them tentatively hold hands. Brilliantly subtle, I thought. Sometimes a love interest is forced into the narrative to make it more palatable. This especially happens with adaptations of books, or even real-life stories - which is patently absurd. As I said, a lot of the time a story will work much better without it, or with it unfulfilled. It gives you a sense that all is not finished, that the story will continue.

Monday

I've already said here how much I liked the film I, Robot. Watching it again, I really can't understand why it wasn't more popular. Perhaps the producers didn't push it enough when it came out, or perhaps it was up against very tough opposition (see here for the top grossing movies at the time), or came out at a politically sensitive period? I'm also guessing that Asimov fans didn't like it, and those unfamiliar with Asimov were put off. The ending is ambiguous, and the overall tone is a little bit pessimistic. Although the plot follows fairly standard lines - Will Smith plays a suspicious detective with a traumatic incident in his past, and whose theories no one believes - it is played with subtlety, I think. And the direction is good. Surprisingly, the director hasn't made anything since then although he is apparently working on something called Silver Surfer, which seems like a spin-off the Fantastic Four films. The script too is great, but one of the writers has since done nothing else, and another seems to be more of a script-editor than creator. So, it appears that this movie might have been one of those instances unique to cinema in which a random group of people, who haven't done anything before, come together and make a great film, then disperse. Odd.

Sunday

In a surprise turnaround, I unexpectedly went to the cinema on Saturday and saw The Seventh Seal. It's been fifty years since its first release (hence its 're-re-release'). I watched it more recently than that, perhaps six years ago. Believing I wouldn't remember much of it, I think instead I remembered every scene. This, I think, reveals the nature of the film. Every scene is vital, and is strikingly directed so as to embed itself in your memory. The script is exceptional - not a word wasted. I don't think I really understood the film when I was younger, but now have a much better grasp of its meaning. It's tempting to call The Seventh Seal the perfect movie. That perfection could come off seeming like artificiality, however, and it does take itself a bit seriously. You have to be absolutely serious when watching otherwise you may find yourself laughing at the self-flagellators, or the man dying of plague, all very reminiscent of Monty Python (who, surely, must be mimicking it somewhere). The clowning of the acrobats could be tiring, and you can tell some of the costumes seem a bit cheap. Perhaps modern viewers might find it dull, but it depends upon what you expect from the film - what you take to it, rather than what you actually find. It, itself, is brilliant from start to finish. The scene on the hill-top when they all gather to eat is perhaps one of the best scenes in cinema. Exceptional stuff.

Saturday

Stakeout is one of those films most people would consider a guilty pleasure, except I don't feel guilty about it. I think it's one of the best examples of the 'buddy cop' genre. It relies heavily on the odd chemistry between Richard Dreyfuss and Emilio Estevez, but there is also an amusing script underneath it. Perhaps I also like it because when younger I used to have a crush on Madeleine Stowe, but that's another matter. It's still entertaining for me today. The concept is simple enough, and one you can easily imagine the pitch meeting for in Hollywood: 'There's these two rebellious cheeky cops, and they're on this stakeout, only one of them falls in love with the girl they're supposed to be observing! Imagine that!'. Anyway, whatever happened to Richard Dreyfuss? He was, of course, making movies every year until recently, but have you heard of them? Perhaps he can only play one character, but he does play it exceptionally well. Jaws and Stakeout, sadly, probably have to be my favourite performances from him. Apparently he had a drug problem in the 80s and has no memory of filming Whose Life Is It Anyway? Whatever the truth, Stakeout is light-hearted, enjoyable action - a classic 80s movie.

Friday

A few weeks ago I watched Escape from New York as part of the John Carpenter season on ITV 4. Of course I've seen this film before, but not for a long time, and I've never reviewed it on here. So, seeing as I've been talking about Carpenter recently, I thought I'd offer a few thoughts on it. The tone and concept is rather silly, but there's something excellent about it. What struck me was how understated it was. It didn't feel like anything was over-said, in the way it is in modern action films. In fact, there was relatively little dialogue. It's incredibly simple, but manages to convey a whole world of detail to you. I'm not entirely sure how he does it, because the plot has a wide and exciting scope: things explode, people get shot and have fights. Somehow, though, it feels subtle. It feels like a small movie, and (as usual for Carpenter) doesn't go over the 90 minute mark. Overall, it's all rather pointless, but the ending is a classic, and leaves you wanting more. As a friend said to me 'they don't make movies like that anymore', and it's true. Kurt Russell is a genuine anti-hero who, when you pay attention to the details, has possibly caused the deaths of millions of people by his actions, but he doesn't care. It's brilliantly daring, but at the same time light-hearted. Odd, but very good.

Thursday

I've been meaning to write for a while now that I love the latest Orange cinema advert with Mena Suvari. I'm fairly sure it's the best they've ever made (although Darth Vader was brilliant). They seem to think so too, since it's been showing for a while now. Most of them were funny, but quickly became annoying on repeated viewings. The Michael Madsen one showed for a long time, was good at points, but also got irritating. I love the little touches they include. For instance, how the ginger-haired man fishes for spare change in the phone box after Madsen has left it. There was a point, it seemed, where they produced a lot, perhaps too many - and mostly set in their production office. Now they've come out and are roaming the world, and there's only one released every so often. I don't want to spoil the Mena Suvari one for you. Hopefully you can watch it for yourself here: http://www.ifilm.com/video/2853433

Wednesday

The Golden Door (or Nuovomondo, 'New World', in Italian) is an incredible film. I had been delaying seeing it, as usual, since I'd read it reviewed as a 'family saga', and that the director, Emanuele Crialese, was somehow heir to Pasolini. So I was expecting a long, difficult, perhaps symbolist, neorealistic epic. (It seems at least two others were less prepared, and they walked out after twenty minutes.) But it didn't, really, present any difficulties. I pretty much enjoyed it throughout. The visions the main character had of America were brilliant, rather than challenging. The film is not 'hard work' in that sense (perhaps to the regret of Pasolini lovers). It is composed essentially of only three situations: leaving Italy, the boat voyage, and inspection on Ellis Island. Perhaps under microscopic criticism the film might fail - its attempted broad vision undermined - but I'll leave that to someone else. I left the cinema exhilarated. I was uncertain about the use of modern music, it felt a bit cartoon-like, but interestingly that only began when they reached America, and it wasn't as intrusive as, say, Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette. The song it finishes with was brilliant. I also wasn't sure about the inclusion of the English female character, also leaving Italy for America. We could have done without that complication, which irretrievably struck us away from the attempted realism of the film. Perhaps that was a good thing, though. It's not a family saga at all, but it is excellent.

Tuesday

Yesterday (or earlier today) I mentioned that Kurt Russell was the perfect John Carpenter hero. Recently I've been thinking about who our heroes are. It's as revealing as anything else about the age we live in. What type of man, or woman, do we see as representing us in every situation, accomplishing what we cannot accomplish? The first step is the subconscious creation of the character by the author, but it must then be popularly embraced by the general public. Recently I've talked a lot about John McClane from the Die Hard films, and two days ago I mentioned Indiana Jones (his fourth movie being filmed as we speak). These men (and Carpenter's Kurt Russell) are rather nonchalant. They get themselves into bad situations, but somehow escape it with relaxed humour and an easygoing effort. Then we must also consider Jason Bourne, and the recent incarnation of James Bond. They're extremely tough, but they also have a new sensitivity and awareness. Spider-Man is interestingly played by Tobey Maguire. Can we consider Harry Potter? Or is he just a children's role model? The tough, all-action heroes Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger played are no longer relevant. It seems we want a conscience and an intelligence, as well as hidden strength. They're almost anti-heroes. I won't try to speculate on why, or what this all means. But it's an interesting aspect of modern cinema to look out for, to watch for when it changes again, and see what events it might be in reaction to.

Monday

As you may know, I'm a fan of the work of John Carpenter. Luckily, there are several of his movies I haven't seen, so I've got something to look forward to. Last night I bought (you can always buy a Carpenter film and know you've not wasted money) and watched one of those: The Thing. Once again, he does the job. Perhaps not one of his best, but starring the ultimate John Carpenter hero - Kurt Russell - and with music by Ennio Morricone (although it sounds a lot like Carpenter's own creations), this film is enjoyable stuff. We're plunged immediately into the story, and left to assume things for ourselves, rather than have them laboriously explained. I don't know how much it copies from The Thing from Another World, but it also seems slightly reminiscent of Alien. A modern cinema-goer may perhaps be more likely to laugh than be scared of the special effects - lots of plasticine involved - but I still found it frightening enough at points. The tracking camera movements through the empty halls were brilliant. I suppose some viewers might have found the end disturbing, but I thought once again it was great. John Carpenter knows when to finish films - the characters keep going, but the story ends. As in Escape from New York (to be reviewed later), you almost want to cheer when the credits start rolling. Get some beers in and order a pizza: it's the perfect way to watch his movies.

Sunday

What's the best wave in cinema history? Perhaps you're thinking 'I don't remember any waves in any films, let alone enough to constitute a list', and, to be honest, I only have one in mind. It might be possible, with several years of study, to find and rank significant hand gestures in movies (I'm guessing westerns could be a good source) but I don't think you or I have the time for that. Anyway, the one I'm thinking of occurs in Raiders of the Lost Ark. You may remember at one point Indiana Jones and his girl are on a cargo ship when they're boarded by a Nazi submarine. Indiana manages to hide, but the girl is taken prisoner. After the Germans have gone he comes out of his hiding place to find her missing and the submarine preparing to submerge. Moments later the crew of the ship can't find Indiana, until one suddenly spots him clambering onto the submarine. They all start cheering and waving, and the classic music begins. Half in appreciation, and half wanting them to shut up, he waves to them. It is, I believe, one of the best waves in cinema history - seeming to sum up his whole character in a simple arm movement. Make sure you look out for it next time you see the movie.

Saturday

I believe I have already, on these very pages, complained about the enigma that is Tony Scott. My prejudice was somewhat muted by the recent Deja Vu, which I thought wasn't half bad. Hopefully he's now curbed some of his more distracting tendencies. However, last night I saw his effort from 2004, Man on Fire, in which his direction is probably more annoying than ever. Denzel Washington is hired to protect the daughter of a rich Mexican family. When she is kidnapped, he goes on a hunt for the perpetrators. It wouldn't seem to you (or me) that this plot-line calls for any unnecessary stylistics, but Tony Scott gives them to us anyway. At times, I actually found this movie painful to watch. Every emotion or action is accompanied by its own camera movement and music, photographic effect, exaggerated cut or flashback. There's nothing subtle about it. He can't just let the story be told. The audience is never allowed to interpret anything for themselves. They're forced to view it the way he wants them to view it. Having said this, after initially wanting to change the channel, I was interested to see what would happen - perhaps mainly because of the interesting subplot involving swimming. And, to undermine any remaining credibility as a critic of this film, I then fell asleep and so don't know how it ends. I may be wrong, but I suspect he finds the girl and everyone lives happily ever after. Although, saying that, the tone of the violence was quite brutal so I suspect Denzel doesn't survive, which may go some way to explain the film's lack of popular success.

Friday

If I were to tell you Edmond was adapted from a play by David Mamet and stars William H. Macy in an After Hours/Falling Down-type role, you'd probably say, as I did, 'show me the money!' (or 'movie'). However, before seeing it I read a review that said it was terrible, and after seeing it, I have to say I agree. It's pretty awful. Not that I want to put you off it. I do suggest you see it. But it just doesn't work. The dialogue is stilted and unnatural, and most of the cast around Macy aren't good. It's no surprise that this film was made as long ago as 2005, and has been drifting around looking for a release date since then. It feels like a play, like the actors are stuck in the dialogue and want to escape. Nothing flows or is natural. I think the director needed to be braver with the material - tear it apart and start again, as a movie. Perhaps a defence might be that it's supposed to be seen as a modern parable, or allegory, and so it shouldn't feel natural. But I don't feel it working like that either. A lot of the time I wasn't sure if lines were serious or jokes. It seemed a movie about David Mamet, about a middle-class white man's crisis. The issues it raises are old, cliched and now seem simplistic. The ending, though, at least was interesting and certainly not what I was expecting. However, I don't think that's enough to save it from just being a bad movie.

Thursday

I saw Porky's on Monday night. I've seen it before, but I think this was the first time I saw it. In other words, I watched it for more than the jokes. It's a disturbing film, in many ways. First you have to try to distance yourself from the period in which it was made (early 80s) to connect with when it is ostensibly set (50s). At times this is very hard to do, you think you're in the 80s, but then you're suddenly snapped back to the 50s by an anachronism. It's very odd, and I think this is a fault of the filmmaker. The movie came out when I was but a child, so I don't know much about its popular effect at the time, or, since I don't live in America, its current reception. Although people will say Animal House came first, this movie does seem like a ground-breaker. It is also like American Graffiti, but somehow funnier and more serious. It deals, however crudely, with anti-semitism and with parental abuse, but seems to ignore racism and sexism. It's remarkable how these themes are able to interact with the ostensible plot - some high school kids trying to get into a strip club (Porky's) - and it's sad that today's frat boy comedies don't even attempt anything as brave as this. What's more, the comedy when it happens is far more daring and more crude than anything America produces nowadays, which is refreshing. I can't believe how the two gym teachers managed to laugh on camera for five minutes, in one cut, and how the two actors in front of them kept seriously to their dialogue. Incredible.

Wednesday

Unfortunately, I went to the pub last night instead of seeing a film. I will try again tonight, but you never know what might happen. Anyway, Alex asked me what Die Hard film was the worst if it wasn't Die Hard 2. My answer has to be: Die Hard 2. This may not make much sense to you, and it doesn't to me either, but here's my explanation: I don't think we should rank them. I think Die Hard 2 is just as good as the other films. If you were compelled to rate them, it marginally loses out, but calling it the 'worst' makes it seem bad. I've been watching Die Hard: With a Vengeance now, and I'm wondering if even that can be called a Die Hard film. It's a good fun movie, but does it make the cut for the franchise? Most of my enjoyment comes from the interaction between Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson, but isn't John McClane supposed to work alone? Of course, the only definite aspect of the franchise is that character, so it shouldn't matter what he's doing and who he's doing it with, but I felt something was wrong. The really striking thing about this film, though, is the handheld camerawork that makes it seem so much more alive, fluid, and real than its prequels (and sequel), and most other action movies. What's also interesting is that it starts without any perceptible build up. We're suddenly into the action, and the first time we meet McClane he's already wearing just a vest.

Tuesday

How and when you kill innocent people in action movies is critical to maintaining the sympathy of your audience. You need to show your bad guys really are bad. You want your audience to be afraid, but you don't want them terrified. It's a very difficult aspect to judge correctly. You need to compensate for the deaths - normally by having a character mourn them, or get revenge. In some films millions of people are killed, but we as the audience don't mind. In others, however, one person dies and we feel upset. In Star Wars, for instance, a whole planet is destroyed, but we don't particularly feel the loss. It works as a plot point, but doesn't upset us because we're never shown the people who live on the planet. Similar mass killings happen in The Day After Tomorrow, War of the Worlds and Independence Day. You can see the differing grades of loss. The Day After Tomorrow was criticised for the lack of compensation - you can't get back at nature - but importantly the characters we care about survive. In Die Hard 2 a whole plane load of innocent passengers is killed. We're given too much information about them, we're allowed to see them as individual and human, and I think their loss is too much for an audience. Important in this respect is the factor of 'if I was there I would've survived'. In the Die Hard 2 example there is no escape. You want to scare your audience, but not petrify them. In war films we see many deaths, but they're compensated for by them being acclaimed heroes, or by the work they did eventually resulting in a victory. So, before you kill an innocent person, remember to ask yourself the question: am I alienating my audience?

Monday

You may remember that in preparation for Die Hard 4.0 I was trying to watch its three prequels, but was hindered by ITV not showing Die Hard 2 when it promised to. On Saturday, however, Alex lent/gave me the films on DVD. In discussion about them, the consensus was that Die Hard 2 was the worst of the franchise. Bruce Willis too, in the interviews he's been giving, says that he didn't enjoy it (although, as Alex pointed out, this may be because he didn't like the atmosphere in which it was made rather than because it was a bad film). Watching it today, though, I have to say I enjoyed it a lot. I don't think I'd rate it as the worst. The first hour, certainly, is as good as any of the other movies. People say it's dated more than the rest, but I think that's a marginal point. I think a bigger problem was the violence. After a while all the gunfights become a little tiresome. Also, I think too many innocent people die cruelly (something I'll post about tomorrow), and even the death of the bad guys is rather gruesome. Some of the dialogue is terrible, but some of it is classic (indeed, this may be because Bruce Willis was given much more rein to ad-lib in this movie). Undoubtedly, though, it contains the defining line for the whole franchise: 'Oh man, I can't f**king believe this. Another basement, another elevator. How can the same sh*t happen to the same guy twice?'.

Sunday

Die Hard 4.0 is a good action film. I don't know if it's much more than that. Of course, some of you may argue the Die Hard movies were never anything more than good action, but for me they were. The dialogue for this film was very good, the action sequences entertaining, and the performances from all the main actors engaging. It definitely raises itself above the average action movie that you see nowadays. However, it does stretch sense and probability a little too far. To get John McClane in the wrong place at the wrong time and keep him them there takes a lot of good writing. In Die Hard 4.0 it begins, and continues, weakly. Perhaps this is helped by the terrorists not attacking a limited space, as in the previous three, but the whole of America. This makes the film feel very spread out, lacking unity. The key though, of course, is the nonchalant character of McClane. I don't think they got him quite right here. He wasn't nonchalant enough. Maybe that's just me though. I did enjoy this film a lot, but I don't believe it quite makes it to the level of the other Die Hard movies. What did you think?

Saturday

A book could be written (and perhaps has been) about the relationship between the audience, the producer, and the director. Simplistically, I suppose, the producer will try to give the audience what they want. His goal is to make money. The director, however, will try to give the audience what they don't know they want. He'll try to surprise them, to innovate, and challenge. This is the essential tension at the heart of the film-making process. It becomes complicated when you begin to analyze what exactly an audience wants, whether they actually comprehend it themselves, and whether anyone else could either. Somewhere in this muddle is the answer to the question of why so many remakes and sequels are being produced. I agree with Alex in that Hollywood has never been particularly original. I believe, however, there are degrees of originality. Jaws and Jurassic Park were both made from books, but I think they transformed and transcended that material so much that they can be called 'original' films. On the other hand, The Da Vinci Code, also derived from a book, failed to do so. Therefore, I'd maintain we do see more unoriginal films nowadays than previously. Anyway, the question is 'why?'. I was going to postulate that the current climate of fear induced by terrorist attacks and a war in Iraq that seems unwinnable and unending might have something to do with it. We might be attempting to escape into sequels and remakes, into the comfortable and reassuring, the safe experiences of the past. But this is entirely random guesswork with no basis in psychological theory. We may only know the answer once we've escaped the question.

Friday

So, why are there no new original Hollywood blockbusters? You'll notice I used a lot of qualifiers there. This is because of course there are original movies being made, and original blockbusters (like Nightwatch, for example), but not that many from Hollywood. The first counter-argument might be 'Hollywood never made original blockbusters', and perhaps this is true. Or, conversely, 'a blockbuster, by definition, isn't original'. Since the beginning of the cinema industry films have been made from other material - books, plays, historical events etc. When we think of the original movies of the past we are perhaps forgetting that a hundred unoriginal movies came out at the same time that have since been forgotten. It's hard to analyse a period when you're in the middle of it. And anyway, isn't the point of a blockbuster to reinforce conventions and give the audience what they want? Nonetheless, I think it has to be beyond doubt that over the last 5-10 years the amount of remakes, sequels, and adaptations from comic books and television has been growing. Producers, no doubt, will say that we, the audience, are to blame. After all, they only try to give us what we want. Sequels are big hits at the box office, so of course they're going to make more of them. But isn't the relationships between what we like and what we get much more complicated than that? I'll continue this thought tomorrow...

Thursday

I didn't see a movie yesterday for various reasons; the main one, though, was that I couldn't find anything I really wanted to watch. It seems there is at the moment a brief lull in the rhythm of film releases. Towards the end of May (supposedly the beginning of summer) we had the first big openings: Spider-man 3, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, and Ocean's 13. Then, more recently, as the school holidays approached, we've had some family fun: Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer and Shrek the Third. Now, as I say, I think we're in the middle of a brief lull, before a storm. Coming very soon: Die Hard 4.0, Transformers, Rush Hour 3, Evan Almighty, Ratatouille, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Grindhouse, The Bourne Ultimatum and The Simpsons Movie. So, it should be pretty exciting, but as you'll notice almost every one of these films is either a sequel or contains material derived from another source. It doesn't seem like Hollywood is capable of making original blockbusters anymore. Perhaps that thought deserves another post though.

Wednesday

I'd been wanting to watch The Bothersome Man ever since I saw it reviewed as 'like an Ikea catalogue directed by David Lynch'. Luckily the ICA was still showing it. The reviewer was only half right with his/her witticism. I'd say it's an Ikea catalogue directed by Ingmar Bergman. It really is like an existential reflection on interior design. I've read many critics use the word 'existential' without really knowing what they're doing. In the case of this film, though, I think it does apply. A man, Andreas, arrives by bus in a town, is given a house, a job, and easily finds himself a wife. He soon discovers, however, that all food and drink tastes the same, that all anyone ever talks about is furniture and redecoration, and that no matter how much he hurts himself, he cannot die. The concept is perfectly executed. The ending is slightly problematic: having ruled out death as an option, the conclusion feels a little weak, but I think logically it works. I don't quite know what to make of the 'other world' he discovers through a crack in the wall, or where he came from. Otherwise, the photography and music are brilliant, and the script, as you'd expect, minimal. I'm not sure if it's a film you could watch twice. It's quite explicitly a 'concept movie', if that makes sense. Although I suppose there are funny moments, and the actor playing Andreas is easy to like and sympathise with. Overall, definitely worth watching once (before you die).

Tuesday

I turned over to ITV1 at 11pm last night to watch Die Hard 2 - brilliantly, the channel have been showing the prequels in the run up to the release of the fourth film. The credits began. A Renny Harlin film. Yes, that was right, but something was wrong. I didn't remember a helicopter in the movie. And where was the Christmas music? Then confirmation came: 'Starring Sylvester Stallone'. Something had gone horribly askew. Everything I read said Die Hard 2, but I was clearly watching Cliffhanger. Were ITV incompetent enough to put the wrong film on? Then came the second realisation: they'd cancelled Die Hard 2 because it involved a terrorist attack at an airport. I was infuriated. The idea that a film made fifteen years ago might upset people today because its events are similar is absurd. No one was even hurt in the Glasgow attack. ITV themselves probably weren't concerned. It seems they were worried about putting the film on in case they got complaints that they were being insensitive. It was the general atmosphere of censure and conservative reactionism (fuelled mainly by the Daily Mail) that must have made them do the swap. It's terribly annoying. Does anyone have it on DVD?

Monday

On Friday there was once again an interesting article in theguardian, this time concerning the possibility of introducing a national quota system in our cinemas. This process, which we had up until 1960, forces cinemas in this country to show a certain amount of British films, a 'quota' if you will. Apparently the idea has been proposed in Spain, at a portion of 1 Spanish/European film for 4 American ones, and there have been protests against it. So, is it a good idea? The answer, as ever, is yes and no. Yes, it's good because it would probably revive the British film industry, discover and nourish new talent, but no, it's bad because we would probably also produce and show a lot of terrible films just to meet the quota. Perhaps, then, an intelligent and flexible quota would be possible? Perhaps. I have to admit to not being a fan of British cinema. I refuse to like it just because I live in the same country as it's produced - that seems rather naive. Most of the time the films seem provincial and small-minded. Exceptions, of course, have been made, and usually they've done so with American money. But I think I'd support the quota system. Although the overall quality may be reduced, we would be making more films, which can never be considered a bad thing.

Sunday

Yesterday I was confronted with a dual dilemma. My flatmates lent me to watch the new Die Hard film. What should I do? There are two issues. Firstly, the so-called 'moral' or 'ethical' one. This DVD was clearly illegal. He'd bought it from one of those Chinese girls that sell them on the street. Although I hadn't paid for it myself, merely watching it, I felt, would be in a way funding the pirate video market. I would be taking money away from the people who work hard to make movies. My flatmate argued that if he didn't buy those DVDs the Chinese girl would probably starve to death. Possibly. That seems very much like the case of helping those people you know, and ignoring those you don't. Anyway, it's complex, but here's the second issue: watching the film at home, in probably very bad quality, would in no way match up to seeing it in the cinema. I'm one of those people, obviously, who thinks seeing a movie at a theatre does have an affect on the audience. It's how the film was supposed to be seen, and heard. So, what should I do? I'm eager to see this movie, but does that mean I should watch it tonight, or wait until its in the cinemas next week?