The Artist

After a great night at the Golden Globes this homage to a bygone era of cinema looks set to cement its position as the frontrunner for Best Picture at the Oscars. But is its charge for award season glory based upon anything more than charm and nostalgia?

When a film has been hyped as enthusiastically as The Artist, nagging doubts and suspicions are always likely in the minds of those of us forced to wait for its general release. We brace ourselves for disappointment. No other outcome seems possible once the high minded critics have finished hoisting our expectations into the heavens, so we look to cushion the fall. At least I do, but then I might be overly cynical.

The subject matter and execution of The Artist added another ingredient to the usual pre-release hype however. It’s the story of George Valentin, a silent movie star, toppled by talkies. In one of the opening scenes the lost magic of cinema, and the lost mystique and glamour of celebrity, is perfectly illustrated at the premiere of Valentin’s latest movie. At the end of the screening he bursts onto the stage, hogging the limelight to toy with the rapt attentions of his audience. This is show business, as it used to be. At it’s thrilling best.

Some critics lust with every cell in their body to be transported back to this time of cinematic birth and discovery. Many regularly rant at the failures of the modern film industry. Few, in short, are going to be able to resist a well executed slice of nostalgia pie. It’s always hard to keep a balanced perspective before seeing a film with rave reviews. But The Artist is a film about Hollywood’s golden age, praised by hordes of reviewers who have longed for a second coming of this filmic Eden for their whole lives.

There may well be good reasons to be wary of The Artist’s gimmicks and charms then. However the reviews are right to say that most of the visual flourishes are irresistible, even and perhaps especially, the infamous cute dog. The wordless acting is touching as well as funny. The Golden Globe winning music has an impressive range and playfulness. Best of all, for me, was that the story had far more to say than a nostalgic and whimsical sigh. It grapples with emotional connection, the limits of language and purpose. Valentin’s gloomy fall from grace is far more than homage, but it isn’t automatically Oscar worthy either.

My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

DVD Review: Daytime Drinking

Daytime Drinking is a surreal Korean comedy following Jin, an average Joe who has just been dumped by his girlfriend. The film begins with Jin and his friends gathered around a table, with everyone in tipsy hysterics. Everyone except Jin, obviously. This prompts his friends to propose an impromptu trip to the mountains, during which they intend to get drunks as a skunk, make merry and forget about women.

Obviously things go awry for poor old Jin. After drinking into the night, he wakes up on an empty bus in the mountains. His friends remain unconscious back in Seoul. After confusedly stumbling around town he attempts to walk to his friend-of-a-friend’s guesthouse in the middle of nowhere. He gets there, tortured by cold, only to get a chilly reception from an owner he was told would cook for him and ensure his every comfort.

It’s here, at the less than welcoming guesthouse, that Jin stumbles upon his first female distraction of the trip. She is enigmatic, asking Jin for a cigarette, musing how they are both staying there alone, before disappearing bluntly into her room. Jin is left standing awkwardly. Many of the film’s more humorous moments are like this and are fuelled by Jin’s embarrassment. It does not feel as if we are laughing at Jin’s ineptitude however, merely people treating him cruelly, which is strangely unsettling. In any case there are few moments actually worthy of a laugh. When he goes to her room later with a bottle of wine, after summoning the courage from somewhere within his heartbroken self, a man answers the door.

This same girl continues to crop up as Jin lurches from one bad situation to another, digging himself deeper and deeper into trouble. The characters he meets tend to be more colourful and partially more interesting than Jin’s own self pitying, panicky state. Ultimately though the film seems to boil down to kicking a man while he’s down being funny and for the most part lacks the humanity to pull this off.

DVD Review: Moss

No one likes disappointing a friend. I’m sure “stop letting friends down” or “make more time for people I care about” will rank highly amongst the more realistic New Year’s resolutions made this January. Imagine my irritation then when, just days into this New Year, a film of my choosing was a source of both disappointment and bafflement as I met a friend for the last time in at least weeks, perhaps months.

There’s nothing quite like sharing fear. Love might come close, maybe, but fear is much easier to talk about afterwards and grows funnier with hindsight, whilst love’s sadness merely mellows with age. What could be better then, than a horror film send off? Where better to have it than a dark, secluded, silent spot in the wind battered countryside? What better concept for the story than a weird mix of mysterious murderers, seeking salvation from their sins in the supernatural, founding an isolated community and terrorising an outsider to protect their secrets?

I was anticipating a creepy, jumpy thrill ride through shocks and secrets of unspeakable evil. Or something to that effect. Moss is a Korean film and I was therefore expecting it to be free of any British sensibility or pretentious European limitations. I’d heard Korean horror was something to be genuinely feared and was expecting a double barrelled fright fest.

Instead I’m not quite sure what it was we got. It was certainly long. Only just less than 3 hours long, in fact. Moments in the film were clearly intended to be terrifying but I think that Moss’s marketing campaign, which places it firmly in the genre of horror, was misguided to the say the least. But then again I’m not sure what else to call it. The plot is evidently meant to be a complex web of revelations and reverses but I was left, at the end of the marathon runtime, feeling like I’d learnt nothing new. If this is a mystery there is precious little to start with and no more by the end.

The drawn out story follows Yu, who arrives in a remote community after his estranged father (also called Yu) suddenly dies. We learn through regular flashbacks that the older Yu had some sort of spiritual gift, which maverick Detective Cheon decided to harness in order to rehabilitate killers. For young Yu, arriving in an odd and small village of eccentrics, doubts continue to hang over the nature of his father’s death. Did he fall from the land of the living or was he pushed? What exactly was his father doing in the middle of nowhere with this man called Cheon, who everyone appears to worship despite an aura of danger surrounding him?

Moss meanders through themes as diverse as corruption and rape, spirituality and bureaucracy. It never succeeds as a horror because the monsters are in plain sight from the start, with most of them succeeding only at being hilariously inept. One character in particular is so bumbling that had the script tossed him a few innuendos we could have been watching “Carry On Korean Conspiracy”. The lighting undermines any potentially scary moment, even when the soundtrack is trying its hardest to initiate some jitters. The dialogue, at least when rendered as English subtitles, is expositional, dull and far from conducive to horror.

Moss fails to manage a single scare and even more importantly as the story drags endlessly on; it never makes you care either.

Why New Year’s Eve is not the worst film of all time…

What did you get up to on New Year’s Eve? Fireworks are standard fare on the 31^st of December and I bet you at least heard a few, even if you were trying to avoid the garish explosions of tinsel in the sky. Booze is another requirement of the occasion; so that even those staying in alone to watch Big Ben on the telly end up cracking open the wine. Talking of Big Ben, there’s the countdown, which for 60 seconds binds us all together in dreary and slurred chanting. And of course there’s the kiss, or lack of, which makes or breaks your evening and sets the tone for the year ahead.

How many of you went to see New Year’s Eve on New Year’s Eve? I’d be surprised if any of you did and even more shocked if you’d heard some snippet of positive press to tempt you to the theatre. A carbon copy of his previous ensemble effort Valentine’s Day, Pretty Woman director Garry Marshall’s film follows the intersecting lives of a clutch of Hollywood’s biggest stars in New York City. It’s packed full of product placement, cheesy messages of hope and not a lot else, which has led to a unanimous selection of one star reviews relegating it to the lower leagues at the box office.

Critical legend Roger Ebert calls the film a “dreary plod” and bemoans its shameless commercialization, which even goes so far as to advertise other films, namely Sherlock Holmes 2, in the final shot. Robbie Collin describes the “utter ghastliness” of seeing New Year’s Eve, whilst Peter Bradshaw rants that post screening his colleagues had to wrestle a razor from his throat. On Rotten Tomatoes it appears to have done well to muster its measly 7% rating.

I don’t disagree with the charges levelled against New Year’s Eve. The big names on show, from Robert De Niro to Katherine Heigl, are clearly on uninterested autopilot. Zac Efron’s plotline seems to exist purely to showcase the wonders of New York to the world and suggest that life is better there, regardless of income or background. The dialogue is atrociously bad and the whole concept painfully predictable. New Year’s Eve is guilty as charged. But Xan Brooks of the Guardian and others have dared to label New Year’s Eve the worst film ever made.

Here I do disagree. I saw New Year’s Eve earlier this week with subterranean expectations. I emerged feeling confused and pleasantly surprised. Let me be clear, I’m absolutely not saying that New Year’s Eve is a good film in any way, shape or form. It is undoubtedly utter rubbish. But whilst it is the worst kind of junk food, sensibly plastered with serious health warnings, it can also be strangely satisfying. New Year’s Eve made me feel something. It tapped into personal memories of mine to provoke an emotional response.

This does not mean there is the slightest sprinkling of quality in the film and I’m aware I’ve been duped into sentimentality by a money making juggernaut. Some might say I should have resisted in order to combat the disgusting Hollywood culture of our time. I feel just as passionately as many of this country’s finest critics who have slammed the film that new voices ought to be heard in cinema, as opposed to this formulaic soup designed to generate dollar signs.

However I think critics that lazily label New Year’s Eve as the worst film ever are being dishonest. Some may genuinely have never disliked a film quite as much. Others must surely be snobbishly concealing their own emotional reactions or at least remaining ignorant of their audience’s views. Yes point out a film’s flaws, yes make the case for more worthwhile productions in future. But do not take a blinkered, negative view for fear of raising your head above the parapet and admitting that yes, actually, I did like something about New Year’s Eve.

2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 9,400 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

3D Cinema Review: Hugo

Martin Scorsese’s first foray into 3D and children’s cinema has produced a mixed bag of a film that will leave you equal parts charmed, touched, disappointed and surprised.

I have always associated the name “Hugo” with the unexpected. At my primary school a boy of that name, as naked as a newborn baby, burst into the classroom one day to ask the teacher if we were required to wear pants for PE. I haven’t encountered a Hugo since with sufficient charisma to banish that hilarious and utterly strange memory. And Scorsese’s Hugo doesn’t quite manage it either, despite some magical moments.

For me these whiffs of cinematic fairy dust can be found mostly at the beginning of the film. Scorsese introduces us to the world of Parisian orphan Hugo Cabret, who maintains the clocks clandestinely at a train station all by himself, in startling, unforgettable fashion. At first we hover over a sparkly skyline with the Eiffel Tower at its heart, descending gently through marvellously lifelike 3D snowflakes. Then the camera plunges dramatically towards the station that is Hugo’s home, zooming along the tracks and in between the vivid crowds. This shot has incredible depth and uses 3D, as well as traditional set design, to astonishing effect. All our senses feel completely immersed and submerged in the setting of Scorsese’s story.

Unfortunately Hugo’s Achilles heel is its overwhelming lack of a story. The whole movie looks and feels fantastic and there are some exciting set pieces that make excellent use of the spot on period detail. But Hugo is all setup and no payoff. Scorsese sets the scene so perfectly in the opening shots that he needn’t delay steaming on towards the meat of the plot. By the end it becomes clear that the story is nothing but the framework for a lecture and certain sections of the audience, particularly children after a gripping seasonal tale, might well feel cheated.

Scorsese’s lecture is about the worth and wonder of early cinema. There are all the elements of normal children’s films to begin with, including Sacha Baron Cohen’s bumbling slapstick as the station inspector, but then there is a sudden and random transition to the history of the movies. The shift is executed via some sledgehammer dialogue, totally lacking in subtlety or relevance to the back story. The mystery of the clockwork mannequin left behind by Hugo’s dead father (Jude Law) is connected to the movies and is, at least initially, rather flimsy and uninspiring.

However Hugo ultimately delivers an innocent, personal journey not on offer to children elsewhere. It may be disjointed but great performances from the young leads, coupled with Scorsese’s skill and passion for cinema tackling truths of the human condition like purpose and loneliness, makes this lecture more moving and awe inspiring than anything on offer on campus.

My Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

The Awakening

Originally published at X-Media Online

There’s an infant poltergeist on the loose in a boarding school. There’s been a death. And worst of all the posh parents are feeling disgruntled enough to contemplate complaining. Who you gonna call? If you’re the debut director of The Awakening Nick Murphy, it’s Rebecca Hall, for her first starring role as ghost buster Florence Cathcart.

A schoolboy’s death from what may or may not have been an unfortunate asthma attack is far too grave a matter for Dominic West’s battle scarred teacher Robert Mallory to convey via telephone, telegram or text however. Being a respectable 1920s gent he hotfoots it to London to beseech Miss Cathcart in person. Whilst reluctant to take the case, as these deductive geniuses always are, she of course accepts and accompanies Mr Mallory to mysteriously sinister rural Cumbria.

In many ways this is a traditional tale that plays out in typical surroundings. There’s a big house with a groaning staircase and rooms full of dusty echoes. There are a handful of characters that might be suspects or allies, each with a secret. There are also the standard back story elements which occasionally add emotional depth but mostly lose the film marks for being clunky, convoluted and cliché.

Indeed many critics have treated The Awakening firmly, claiming that it’s haunted by classics of the genre and ends up being an inexpert imitation, squandering its good points by succumbing to the modern trend of climactic twists. I’d argue these reviewers are looking at the film in the wrong way. There are far more positives than negatives on show from a production that cannot easily be categorised despite its familiar trappings.

Besides being a chiller about a haunted house, The Awakening is also a lovingly drawn period drama, complete with grandeur and detail and an
arresting atmosphere. It addresses serious themes with surprising depth,
touching on tough topics such as shell shock, scepticism of the supernatural,
love and loss. As a result there are passages of dialogue rich in emotional and
intellectual meat for the actors to devour. Perhaps the most pleasing strength
of The Awakening is the sight of Hall and West excelling on centre stage, just
as they have always done in supporting roles.

The Awakening begins as a unique superhero story, with Cathcart unmasking charlatans and battling demons, both society’s and her own, at breakneck speed. Its concluding twist, whilst a little disappointing, works far better than most critics have suggested and does not spoil a good film. Spooky, intelligent and gripping, The Awakening is fine storytelling, inspired, not haunted, by horror classics. And yes I was scared. Out of my seat at times.

My rating: 4 stars out of 5

Talking Trailers: Episode 1

Originally published at X-Media Online

Talking Trailers kicks off with rape, porn and cross dressing, but not necessarily in that order…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ini59bYhaUY

First up then is veteran Academy Award nominee Glenn Close in the role she was surely born to play. That’s right she’s a chap, not called Glenn, but Albert Nobbs.

This trailer is very traditional and the perfect start for this feature. It begins with a voiceover and ends with glowing quotes from reviews adorning the screen. It takes us through the film in a standard chronological manner, with accompanying highs and lows in tone. There’s a rather crude joke amongst some house maids setting a high, before melancholic music sets in to coincide with glimpses of the consequences of Alfred’s double life. Then there’s another funny moment, signalling the start of an uplifting climb to the trailer’s romantic climax.

Albert Nobbs may have a conventional trailer, with ingredients so commonplace we don’t notice them, but that’s no bad thing. This trailer plays to its film’s strengths, emphasising the impressive cast and touching story.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRcw17z3sWc

Whereas the Albert Nobbs trailer clearly sketches out a narrative, the trailer for Angelina Jolie’s first film as a writer/director, In the Land of Blood and Honey, is all about setting various moods. The opening switches back and forth between a frenetic battle scene and an intense close up of lovers. Comparisons are drawn between the passion and energy of war and love, as well as there being contrasts of violence and tenderness. The chunks of dialogue are less self explanatory than those used for Albert Nobbs, requiring the audience to infer and think more. Eventually controversial themes such as rape, imprisonment, trust and racism emerge. There are also a number of striking visuals of landscapes and action scenes, which are perhaps more prominent than usual to prove Jolie’s capable direction skills.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=arD1Hmjlqag

And finally the porn. Man of the moment Michael Fassbender stars alongside wanted woman Carey Mulligan in Steve McQueen’s Hunger follow up, Shame. Set in New York the film follows a man addicted to sex and therefore the trailer, predictably, features a lot of it. Written after extensive research by McQueen and creator of BBC series The Hour, Abi Morgan, Shame has garnered praise from all corners for its examination of modern lust gone wrong.

It’s the most experimental and exciting of these trailers, resembling a piece of art independent of the film it promotes but also saying a lot about it. Fassbender’s breathing whilst jogging playing in the background gives the entire trailer structure, rhythm and sexual charge. The jogging image also ties into the title and the idea of the protagonist running from the shame of his addiction.

Talking Trailers Introduction

Originally published at X-Media Online

Trailers used to be really bad. I mean painfully bad. They could reduce cinematic classics, such as Casablanca (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INBmVxAsdFE
), into muddled and ridiculous messes. They would go on for far too long, revealing far too much about a film. They were almost always garnished with
clichéd subtitles or voiceover.

As a result trailers weren’t very important. In the early days of cinema arty posters were the most creative aspect of a film’s promotion. However these days they are inescapable and the key tool in any movie’s marketing campaign. Entire companies are devoted to composing original music for trailers. A trailer’s success or failure can make or break a production’s box office success.

Some might miss going to watch a movie having never seen a single snippet of it; others may rant against the annoyance of a succession of trailers preceding the film they’ve paid to see. A persuasive argument can still be made, in some cases, that it’s a travesty to cut the best bits from a masterpiece and mash them together. It wouldn’t be acceptable to butcher Michelangelo’s David and parade the best body part around Italy to tempt customers to the main attraction in Florence.

But in my view those of you that still find trailers an unnecessary irritant are making a mistake. Rather than diminishing the cinematic experience, I believe they enhance it. They help generate anticipation. With modern editing techniques shoddy composition can largely be avoided. It’s possible to shape something that stands apart from the film itself and goes beyond advertising.

Mediocre action films can be made to look utterly engrossing. Mild, poor quality melodrama can become suffused with irresistibly powerful emotion. It’s still true, of course, that a poor trailer can fail to do a great film justice but that’s all part of the fun. Trailers require skill, originality and risk taking, like any form of art.  I never skip the trailers on a DVD or Blu-Ray because I admire the acknowledged soul that condensed the peaks and troughs of a two hour long film into 120 seconds of intelligible and affecting story.

In this new feature, with the suitably cliché title of “Talking Trailers”, I’ll be trying to share the enjoyment, excitement and excellence of new trailers for upcoming films. I’ll also, no doubt, be pointing out some turkeys. Hopefully I can convert some indifference into enthusiasm.

The Ides of March

Originally published at X-Media Online

The Ides of March delivers exactly what you would expect, whilst shying away from surprises, in a way that is somehow both disappointing and irresistibly satisfying.

Stephen Meyers, played by 2011’s rising star Ryan Gosling, is an idealistic PR man for wannabe Democratic Presidential candidate Mike Morris (George Clooney). He begins the film with strong but adaptable principles that allow him to twist the truth everyday for a greater good, whilst never really dirtying his hands in the muddiest pools of the political swamp. However by the end he’s discovered why the cynics are so disillusioned with the transformative power of politics and learnt that a detached and destructive ruthlessness is vital to climbing this particular career ladder.

The plot changes direction a number of times but is mostly predictable and heavily reliant on an ever building intrigue. Indeed it’s the narrative content of The Ides of March that is a letdown. Clooney delayed the film in the wake of post-Obama political optimism in America, choosing to wait for the inevitable onset of apathy and scepticism. At times it feels as though the creative team behind the project believe that they are exposing the dark, hidden underbelly of the American system, which is in actual fact a familiar and unremarkable mixture of sexual scandal, greed, deceit and privilege.

But at others the filmmakers seem to recognise that the story they’re telling is far from groundbreaking. Instead the focus is on letting great actors play with themes like betrayal, jealousy and ambition. This is when The Ides of March is at its best; when Clooney’s extensive experience in front of the camera enables actor friendly direction from behind it.

It’s fashionable to salivate and drool over Ryan Gosling. Women want to be with him, men want to be him. Film critics of either gender, not content with praising him to the skies, seem to desire an encounter in a hotel room that doesn’t involve an interview. However in my view the older master of seduction, George Clooney, along with Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Paul Giamatti, outshines the young hotshot.

The film is based on a play written by a political insider, which adds authenticity, if not a shockingly enlightening level of truth. The theatrical source material also gives the likes of Clooney, Hoffman and Giamatti the chance to flex their muscles in some solitary speeches, on loyalty or legacies, to Gosling’s character. Clooney is genuinely convincing and attractive Presidential material, who sells policy with inspirational idealism and charm.

A slightly unpredictable ending and the outstanding calibre of pure acting on show ensures that The Ides of March does more than pander to critics, even if its story does lack substance.