tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74412303598646315532024-02-07T18:25:09.048+01:00All Slights DeservedMainly about cinemaRichard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-76389881813533494112020-10-16T01:07:00.020+02:002020-10-30T18:41:40.788+01:00The Satisfied Eye International Film Festival<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrk-vmHex5NXAhQMaEe0Wvrd3UcusYwWD44SK1bOOE33Z980irPwIblymIn6_RS48bFxwWunvlFbNdTHdgAs8F5XHxD24XyPtJKuEYqGKEih6ZfLg0FEsic7iigKxSrfToTjOG3Sz11QL/s2020/satisfied+eye.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2020" data-original-width="2020" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrk-vmHex5NXAhQMaEe0Wvrd3UcusYwWD44SK1bOOE33Z980irPwIblymIn6_RS48bFxwWunvlFbNdTHdgAs8F5XHxD24XyPtJKuEYqGKEih6ZfLg0FEsic7iigKxSrfToTjOG3Sz11QL/w320-h320/satisfied+eye.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Epsom isn't exactly steeped in film history. <i>Zulu</i> star Stanley Baker lived here for a number of years, while Norman Wisdom divided his time between his luxury flat on Church Street and a residence on the Isle of Man. Just around the corner from where I'm writing this is the former registry office where Margaret Lockwood and Oliver Reed got married (not to each other). In the local cemetery you can find the neglected grave of striptease artiste Phyllis Dixey, who made a mercifully brief foray into acting as an ersatz <i>femme fatale</i> opposite Herbert Lom in Brit noir <i>Dual Alibi</i> (1947). Other than that the Queen's Stand at Epsom Racecourse implausibly doubled for St Petersburg Airport in <i>Goldeneye</i> (1995) and... well.. that's pretty much it.<p></p><p>So, with the greatest respect to those concerned, it's taken me a while to be sold on the idea of Epsom hosting a film festival. Consequently, I didn't pay much attention when the first Satisfied Eye International Film Festival (SEIFF) took place in 2018 and even less so when, in its second year, it relocated to Kingston for want of a venue. But we're living in extraordinary times and, having been starved for much filmgoing during 2020, it seemed churlish not to show some appreciation for the efforts made to hold this year's event, now restored to Epsom and relocated to the recently refurbished Odeon. </p><p>Overseen by Epsom-based writer/producer Chris Hastings, and aided by fellow industry professionals and an army of volunteers, the third SEIFF was a programme comprised of 90 predominantly short films screened across three days. Naturally, the current situation brought constraints, with few filmmakers able to attend in person and all manner of social distancing measures, including reduced capacity. Even Hastings himself was conspicuous by his absence, for what I took to be Covid related reasons, but instead supplemented the big screen offerings with various Zoom interviews with the contributors which were made available on the festival's YouTube channel.</p><p>Although screenings were grouped into some general categories, SEIFF largely eschews a themed approach, preferring instead to screen the films that score highest with a panel of judges. While that means that some interesting but rougher-round-the-edges productions don't make the grade it ensures the standard is impressively high and serves as a showcase for some of the best independent filmmaking around. Perhaps this year it's also benefited from the pandemic's impact on the festival circuit, with entrants willing to take a punt on a lesser known event. </p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><b>Pre-Covid zeitgeist</b></h3><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIFdTv8CTugYCoNvRy9i1M3WdcgBB4Rjszt3e0oSBDheXcvzOueG963l5zNrVMtKrg2hOfgrpCfC6favU7MGOERtoLmplfhS-Sbg1CAoQJOwhV_JC4bxAIgcKNIy4xwdnubPckOSirL_I/s1000/Blood+Rule.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="666" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIFdTv8CTugYCoNvRy9i1M3WdcgBB4Rjszt3e0oSBDheXcvzOueG963l5zNrVMtKrg2hOfgrpCfC6favU7MGOERtoLmplfhS-Sbg1CAoQJOwhV_JC4bxAIgcKNIy4xwdnubPckOSirL_I/w133-h200/Blood+Rule.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>Despite the much publicised glut of no-budget filmmaking that's taken place on Planet Covid, of which by all accounts there was no shortage of submissions, the festival instead offered up a snapshot of life before ubiquitous face masks. The programme included some (relatively) well known offerings, such as the Oscar-winning <i>The Neighbors' Window (</i>dir. Marshall Curry, US) and <i>Skin</i> (dir. Guy Nattiv, US), which won the same gong a year earlier. The latter film in particular, with its account of poetic justice meted out on a gun-loving bigot following a horrific race crime, is a masterclass in succinct storytelling that's more timely now than when it first entered circulation.<p></p><p></p><p>The world, you might have noticed, is a pretty intolerant place these days. That toxicity was encapsulated by one of the standout entries, Australian short <i>Blood Rule </i>(dir. Harry Tamblyn), in which the innocuous setting of a public swimming pool becomes the backdrop for an explosive eruption of tensions when an autistic man accidentally brushes against a young girl. </p><p>Elsewhere, in the Egyptian <i>Ward's Henna Party </i>(dir. Morad Mostafa), the genial relationship between a bride-to-be and the Sudanese henna painter who comes to decorate her suddenly unravels with violent consequences. Both films opt not to linger on what follows, leaving the horror to fester in our imaginations as the credits roll. </p><p>Convers<span style="font-family: inherit;">ely, Danis</span>h offering <i>No Ill Will </i>(dir. Andrias Hogenni) begins with the awkward encounter of two friends at a supermarket after one has blocked the other on Facebook. What appears at first glance to be a social satire <i>a la</i> Ruben Östlund takes on an altogether more tragic turn in the second act as we learn the impact of that ostracisation. For one haunting moment there is the fantasy of a reconciliation that never was, nor ever can be. </p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Voices of the dispossessed </h3><div>Unsurprisingly, there was no shortage of films with a political subtext, in particular the humanitarian issues resulting from those seeking a better life. Spanish short <i>One </i>(dir. Javier Marco Rio) opens on the surreal image of a mobile phone, sealed in a plastic bag, starting to ring while drifting far out at sea. When it's retrieved by a passing trawler the resulting conversation between a fisherman and unseen voices on the other end make it apparent it belonged to an asylum seeker now presumed drowned somewhere in the Mediterranean, along with all those he travelled with. The minimalism of the scenario is permeated with the weight of human loss and anguish of those they have left behind.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Cargo</i> (dir. Christina Tournatzés), a German contribution, is an account of human trafficking based on the actual recorded telephone conversations of the smugglers. A truck laden with 71 refugees travels along the motorways of central Europe and the scene agonisingly intercuts between driver terrified of captures, and his slowly suffocating cargo, whose pleas for help he ignores. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6PTD1W-kQqHPPkNBFpY-nwW-oKOylLMAJg5MgnC0EmGeLSTMa7gqYmnpqekMOrfdiGMzNDHJMDHIKy0kB8DdWBRbESoeD3wHJIKMBYIwSMl8bSQe4nsywNm2jlU6bXaTkMW3nr2drJ_Ft/s1000/mums+hairpins.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="706" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6PTD1W-kQqHPPkNBFpY-nwW-oKOylLMAJg5MgnC0EmGeLSTMa7gqYmnpqekMOrfdiGMzNDHJMDHIKy0kB8DdWBRbESoeD3wHJIKMBYIwSMl8bSQe4nsywNm2jlU6bXaTkMW3nr2drJ_Ft/w142-h200/mums+hairpins.jpg" width="142" /></a></div>Greek sci-fi <i>Third Kind</i> (dir. Yorgos Zois) takes an altogether different approach; imagining archaeologists from the distant future returning to Earth and discovering the abandoned migrant camps in Athens, although to my mind the point was laboured and took too long to get anywhere. More absorbing was the <i>The Roads Most Traveled: Photojournalist Don Bartletti</i> (dir. Bill Wisneski), in which the veteran newsman recalls his years documenting the Mexican border.</div><div><br /></div><div><br />There were also a handful of what might be called historical films. <i>The German King </i>(dir. Adetokumboh M'Cormack) is the extraordinary story of King Rudolf Douala Manga Bell, a Cameroonian prince who was raised in Germany alongside the future Kaiser Wilhelm II, only to return to his homeland and attempt to lead a rebellion against those same colonial oppressors. Although perhaps a tale too complicated to be whittled down effectively into twenty minutes it's an admirable attempt.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile, in Russian effort <i>Mum's Hairpins, </i>Tatiana Fedorovskaya reconstructs her Jewish grandfather's escape from the Nazis as a young boy eighty years earlier. It's a lyrical piece of filmmaking, with shades of <i>Come and Play </i>or more recently <i>The Painted Bird</i>, and one of the highlights of the festival.</div><div><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">The art of caring</h3><div style="text-align: left;">Maybe it's reflective of our ageing society that films involving care for the elderly and infirm constituted a major theme across the weekend. <span>In the opening feature, <i>Piláte </i>(dir. Linda Dombrovszky,), a Hungarian adaptation of the bestselling novel by Magdo Szabó, a widow is pressured to move in with her daughter in the big city with disastrous consequences. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmVvme-HO30_HL8Jo6Wgt4eRqG9k2zbiS_oe11qoc53sDB0uQeq1T7Fs8Jf-fa0D3nq6PD7hj91JgpJI3kqW9D0aQ7wb0fH73jhZ8iZ2GxvDsEV3zFflTpvjsO02RpKUON97wo5QaFktf1/s1000/wanted+strong+woman.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="696" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmVvme-HO30_HL8Jo6Wgt4eRqG9k2zbiS_oe11qoc53sDB0uQeq1T7Fs8Jf-fa0D3nq6PD7hj91JgpJI3kqW9D0aQ7wb0fH73jhZ8iZ2GxvDsEV3zFflTpvjsO02RpKUON97wo5QaFktf1/w139-h200/wanted+strong+woman.jpg" width="139" /></a></div>A triptych of shorts shown in a slot billed 'Wonder Women' depicted female protagonists struggling to balance their duties as caregivers. </span><i style="color: #333333;">Keep It Quiet </i>(US, dir. Yaya) sees seasoned character actress Rusty Schwimmer deliver a devastating performance as a veterinarian struggling with depression, while in the Canadian effort <i>Wanted: Strong Woman </i>(dir. Marilyn Cooke) a hospital worker discovers her inner strength when she takes up wrestling. This was followed by </span><i>Lieve </i>(dir. Vincent Groos) in which saw a young nurse spends her day dashing about the Belgian countryside attending to her homebound patients, before time agonisingly runs out.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In <i>Dogwatch</i> Austrian director Albin Wildner appears to draw inspiration from Ken Loach with the story of middle-aged man trying to balance a new job as a security guard with caring for his mother. There's a sad inevitability when things take a turn for the worse, but the climactic scene is a beautifully realised note of optimism.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The devastating impact of Alzheimer's was explored in the feature documentary <i>When All That's Left is Love </i>(dir. Eric Gordon), which pulls no punches in its warts and all depiction of a wife's efforts to care for her ailing husband (the director's own parents). It's certainly not one for the faint hearted, being an emotionally shredding experience, but there are also beautiful moments of tenderness and it's a worthy inclusion. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">Themed screenings</h3><div style="text-align: left;">For the late afternoon and early evening Saturday slots SEIFF blocked in programmes of comedy and horrors shorts which I found to be somewhat hit and miss affairs. 'Laugh Out Loud' included the Scandinavian farces <i>Rubbish Robbers </i>(dir. Anders Teig) and <i>Hardballer </i>(dir. T2) which, for me, fell wide of the mark. Better was the German <i>Night Shift</i> (dir. David Dybeck) which, although clearly indebted to Kevin Smith's <i>Clerks</i>, features a memorable riff on Brecht's <i>Kuhle Wampe </i>as two characters debate the merits of Fair Trade coffee. Also noteworthy was <i>Lady Parts </i>(dir. Erin Rye, Jessica Sherif) which satirised the casting opportunities for women actors.</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHZIjKzgTm4sec1-X2-Y6yFjnlfGWIu9LewbzAf4KlIsDTS9opr3Z0EcxtfnfOU8eNs6-1_PqmeEQzvvCg30TAlth5GSlwyj2GcoHXlorFMCgPI6YhoDw2pDxzCNGqSvM-4CePT4pbOXf/s1000/bad+hair.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="706" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHZIjKzgTm4sec1-X2-Y6yFjnlfGWIu9LewbzAf4KlIsDTS9opr3Z0EcxtfnfOU8eNs6-1_PqmeEQzvvCg30TAlth5GSlwyj2GcoHXlorFMCgPI6YhoDw2pDxzCNGqSvM-4CePT4pbOXf/w141-h200/bad+hair.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>The standout film of 'Terror in the Cinema', in style if not substance, was the deliciously excruciating <i>Bad Hair </i>(dir. Oskar Lehemaa) from Estonia. Anyone who's despaired at the ravages of male pattern baldness will have yearned for the miracle formula that will restore them to former hirsute glory, but probably not at this price. In addition to the most terrifying pairing of an eye and a razor blade since <i>Un Chien Andalou </i>and gloriously gungey prosthetics, the sound design is a masterpiece of nausea.<p></p><p>Altogether different were the two blocks of animated films. The first, more adult themed, included <i><a href="https://vimeo.com/363023845">The Girl in the Hallway</a> </i>(dir. Valerie Barnhart) in which poet Jamie DeWolf recounts the harrowing true story of a young girl's disappearance to a swirling collage of drawings in pencil and chalk. Gentler in tone, but personally resonant, was Floor Adams' <i>Mind My Mind</i>, exploring the anxieties the more socially challenged of us must navigate in forming romantic relationships.</p><p>Perhaps the most enchanting animation of the weekend was <i><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Fox-Bird-Samuel-Guillaume-Fr%C3%A9d%C3%A9ric/dp/B08629DVYY">The Fox and the Bird</a> </i>(dir. Sam and Fred Guillame); the unlikely story of a fox raising a young chick. Such is the gentle innocence, and the exquisite technique, all you can really do is sit back and smile. By contrast, Molly Mayhew and Mia Moore's student film <i>Come Wander With Me </i>offers<i> </i>a decidedly darker take on the natural world, albeit styled like the love child of Oliver Postgate and Jan Svankmajer.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXl8RztQLqq1Mo-DvB66ceTDjZ2PxJF5CBZW3dxO2xXFqVZwIso1XxMRrsFtT6IgAPtP7eW_IUJ-dMrVgHkm-Z8eOP8Mq3LuDu08aNc47ka2phtrIievp6WpJWWc-yl0Xmykw91d8WEAOW/s1000/birds+with+no+legs.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="713" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXl8RztQLqq1Mo-DvB66ceTDjZ2PxJF5CBZW3dxO2xXFqVZwIso1XxMRrsFtT6IgAPtP7eW_IUJ-dMrVgHkm-Z8eOP8Mq3LuDu08aNc47ka2phtrIievp6WpJWWc-yl0Xmykw91d8WEAOW/w143-h200/birds+with+no+legs.jpg" width="143" /></a></div>The latter film played as part of 'The Best of British', a block of films that appeared to have been selected with eclecticism in kind and sometimes only notionally British. <i>Anna </i>(dir. Dekel Berenson) is the story of a middle-aged Ukrainian woman's attempt to secure an American husband at an organised party. Finely balanced between humour and pathos, it ends on a (literally) riotous note.<p></p><p>Another highlight was <i>Birds with No Legs</i>, in which Greek director Pavlos Stamatis demonstrates how foreign directors can sometimes find an aspect to London that eludes natives (think <i>Blow Up</i> or <i>Deep End</i>). Here the setting is an oneiric all-night cafe, where two lost souls wash up and muse on the passage of time. Exquisitely shot, with note-perfect performances, one can forgive it perhaps being a little too on the nose in its homage to Wong Kar-Wai.</p><p>The British section closed with the wonderfully weird <i>The Devil's Harmony </i>(dir. Dylan Holmes Williams), in which a bullied teenage girl seeks revenge on the school jocks with the help of the soporific powers of her a-cappella club. It's the sort of nonsense you can imagine being devised and discarded during a wild brainstorming session, only somehow this has made it to the big screen to glorious effect. </p><h3 style="text-align: left;"> A surplus of quality? </h3><p>SEIFF’s problem is that maybe it's done too good a job. If that sounds counterintuitive keep in mind that at most shorts programmes at festivals there’s usually no shortage of duds and in a strange way they’re not entirely unwelcome, because you simply switch off and ponder what’s coming next. A programme of top-quality work, particularly three full days of it, is like being force fed haute cuisine. Sometimes you'd be quite happy with a Pot Noodle. </p><p>But there's a painful awareness that there were some films I'm doing a disservice by not mentioning and in a perfect world it would be great to return to them. Above all one appreciates the enormous dedication required by so many people to make even a relatively modest production.</p><p>A few more favourites I've not even had a chance to mention yet; Sandrine Béchade's paean for childhood misfits, <i>Angel & Alien</i>, starring her own daughter and only let down slightly by the fact there was clearly more story than could possibly be squeezed into its 19 minutes. Another gem was <i>Blocks </i>(dir. Bridget Maloney), about a mother who inexplicably starts vomiting up Lego. Elsewhere, actress Clare Adams delivered a tour de force in <i>Hot Chocolate</i> (dir. David Hay), as a young woman who discovers her flatmate's suicide. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhND_T5r5wl1YyHCUbJnqSZUzi-bdSwdZ1Vm9fb1DpzZDCLeIlwpKLQvZCryX-8nbRefzsFidiL2RBXgaUHCVbMUzYa-1kCDC_WpDR3gIR6Td5iglP1FmZAos8qVIodQ4T_MbnGVpyPazHf/s1000/Da+Yie.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="707" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhND_T5r5wl1YyHCUbJnqSZUzi-bdSwdZ1Vm9fb1DpzZDCLeIlwpKLQvZCryX-8nbRefzsFidiL2RBXgaUHCVbMUzYa-1kCDC_WpDR3gIR6Td5iglP1FmZAos8qVIodQ4T_MbnGVpyPazHf/w141-h200/Da+Yie.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>African cinema was a little light on the menu but there was the Ghanian entry <i>Da Yie</i> [<i>Good Night] </i>(dir. Anthony Nti), in which two children are led into danger when a mysterious stranger offers to show them a good time. The kids' performances are raw and unaffected, and more than likely they couldn't repeat it if they tried, but it's accutely judged direction that extracts just what's required from them. <p></p><p>Honourable mentions are also due to <i>A Dog's Death </i>(dir. Matias Ganz) and <i>Sticker</i> (Georgi M Unkovski), black comedies from Argentina and Macedonia respectively.</p><p> Finally, it would be apt to mention feature documentary <i>Narrowsburg </i>(dir. Martha Shane), the story of how Richard C. Castellano - an ex mafioso turned bit-part actor - and his film producer wife founded 'the Sundance of the east' film festival in an upstate hamlet. Persuading the townsfolk they could all star in a locally-shot Hollywood movie, thousands of dollars were swindled and Castellano eventually served time for grand larceny. A stranger-than-fiction fable about not getting hoodwinked when the carnival comes to town.</p><p>One can't imagine such folly ever taking place in the stockbroker belt where, even in the best of times, persuading filmgoers to take a chance on something not bedecked with star names or pyrotechnics will always be a struggle. Yes, for short films it's long been thus, and as a form it continues to find new platforms, but I don't share Hastings' optimism that Netflix will prove a significant benefactor. </p><p>Moreover, it will always be a pale imitation to the big screen experience. Prior to the pandemic there were plans in the works for a second Epsom cinema, to be run by Picturehouse, but although there's been no official statement it would now look highly unlikely. Even the Odeon must face an uncertain future given the slump in attendances with little hope of a reversal in the near future. That could leave SEIFF seeking another new home by next year. </p><p>It should be said the festival achieved some respectable attendances, with several events being effectively sold out. The bigger challenge will be building upon this success, maintaining sponsorship and support, in the coming years and that will mean building its reputation. Those in the know don't need any convincing that there's great independent cinema being made, but I fear those cognoscenti may be in short supply in Epsom.</p>Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-56261329179127344162019-12-31T12:03:00.001+01:002020-10-16T11:31:53.214+02:00Fade Out: The Best Films of 2019<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">25. Avengers: Endgame (Anthony Russo and Joe Russo, US, 2019)</span></h2>
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Considering that a decade ago the output of the Marvel Cinematic Universe consisted of a semi-surprise success of <i>Iron Man</i> and the so-so <i>The Incredible Hulk </i>what's followed has been an exceptional achievement, at least in box office terms. For naysayers even the best Marvel offerings are likely to remain infantilised spectacle that threaten the very soul of cinema, but I would argue as a franchise it's shown greater willingness to mix and deviate from its formula than the Star Wars saga that has just limped to a conclusion. <br />
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Endgame is a bloated monster of a film and while not as satisfying as the very best the studio has managed (<i>Guardians of the Galaxy</i>, <i>Black Panther</i>) it's confident enough to take its time and throw in a few curveballs, particularly during its low-key first hour. Quite how much sense all the time travelling hijinks make to those unfamiliar with previous instalments I'm not qualified to say, nor have I ever been a fan of the climactic slugfests that have become a staple of these films. Yet as a finale of sorts, and a sendoff for some key characters (at least until the studio takes a stab at Secret Wars) it packs a certain emotional punch.<br />
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24. Sometimes Always Never (Carl Hunter, UK, 2018)</span></h2>
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This quirky British indie passed largely unnoticed, which was a shame. Bill Nighy excels as the Scrabble-obsessed father still grieving for a son who disappeared years earlier, while attempting to build bridges with his younger son (Sam Riley). Some may find its twee Wes Andersonisms a tad distracting and the story is so slight it might easily have been a short, but it allows plenty of space for the melancholy ruminations of Frank Cottrell Boyce's script and songs by Edwyn Collins.<br />
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23. Vice (Adam McKay, US, 2018)</span></h2>
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More barbed than his previous <i>The Big Short</i>, Adam McKay's Dick Cheney biopic was always likely to draw the ire of the conservative press, particularly in an era when American politics is dominated by a figure who makes the erstwhile Vice President seem like an icon of liberal benevolence. Consequently, even Christian Bale's astonishing physical transformation didn't draw all the attention it merited. Not all of the comedy skits come off, leaving McKay open to accusations of lazy storytelling, but it's a laudable attempt to shed light on the machinations of the War on Terror's <i>éminence grise</i>.<br />
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22. Los Reyes (Bettina Perut and Iván Osnovikoff, Chile/Germany, 2018)</span></h2>
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A beautifully simple documentary about the day-to-day lives of two stray dogs living at a skateboard park in Santiago, Chile, and the various human and animal characters they encounter. While the canines quickly became accustomed to the filmmakers the skater kids frequenting the park were more reluctant, meaning their often hilarious conversations are heard but not seen, juxtaposing nicely with the dogs' simpler preoccupations. In the latter stages comes a heartbreaking development that lends the film a deeper profundity about the transience of life.<br />
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21. 21 Bridges (Brian Kirk, US, 2019)</span></h2>
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I swear it's complete chance this finds itself in twenty-first place. Back in the 80's or 90's this (bent) cops and robbers tale would have been nothing special, and arguably it's not without considerable flaws (e.g. plot points telegraphed way before they needed to be). But in an era of tentpole releases there's something pleasingly old school about it all. Leading man Chadwick Boseman has a sentient presence about him, suggesting he could go on to do some great work outside of his Marvel commitments.<br />
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20. Amazing Grace (Sydney Pollack and Alan Elliott, US, 2018)</span></h2>
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Mesmerising document of Aretha Franklin in her prime, recording the titular gospel album in 1972. Even from an agnostic perspective it's impossible not to be swept up by the theatre and energy of the occasion.<br />
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19. Diamentino (Gabriel Abrantes and Daniel Schmidt, Portugal/France/Brazil, 2018)</span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWg96DjoAke-G7_OMm_Vtu9HImTJBhhQN5GiTzJLzbxkAzbeme8BaBkbZ9osqdiWIWskFMvLwH9bAeqQJU9UiWbueAcpv5BusJeiXjrqzSjuis-LL52OcqJHMozPVBU0iQQAeDNWW3Gq5/s1600/diamentino.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWg96DjoAke-G7_OMm_Vtu9HImTJBhhQN5GiTzJLzbxkAzbeme8BaBkbZ9osqdiWIWskFMvLwH9bAeqQJU9UiWbueAcpv5BusJeiXjrqzSjuis-LL52OcqJHMozPVBU0iQQAeDNWW3Gq5/s320/diamentino.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>One of those bewildering, genre-hopping what-the-f*** films that any good year in cinema should throw up a few examples of. It's a sprawling odyssey that manages to span the excesses of modern footballers, the migrant crisis, gender identity, genetic engineering and giant puppies in a compact 96 minutes. I caught this film at the Paracinema festival in Derby and in retrospect regret not asking the directors whether they'd considered offering Cristiano Ronaldo (to whom the eponymous hero is clearly indebted) a screening.</div>
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18. 37 Seconds (Hikari, Japan, 2019)</span></h2>
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This story of a young woman with cerebral palsy whose dreams of becoming a manga artist sees her embark on a journey of emancipation and self discovery was one of the few Japanese contributions to the London Film Festival. It's held together by an enchanting central performance by amateur actress Mei Kayama and assured direction by Hikari (aka Mitsuyo Miyazaki) and while I must admit that an overdependency on the Japanese penchant for kawaii (or 'cuteness') made me a little uneasy it would be difficult not to find it heartwarming. Like so many recent Japanese indie films it's struggling to find much distribution outside the festival circuit, which is a real pity.<br />
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17. Bait (Mark Jenkins, UK, 2018)</span></h2>
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A number of films that made my list this year touch upon the social divide , but none quite as distinctively as Mark Jenkins' hand-cranked black and white 16mm effort . The earthy look and and editing style, that harkens back to the classic documentary aesthetics, comes perilously close to pastiche. It's a gimmick, and achieves the intended Verfremdungseffekt, but as a parable about the uneasy relationship between the gentry and those still clinging to a more traditional way of life it avoids the preachiness of Ken Loach.<br />
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16. Little Women (Greta Gerwig, US, 2019)</span></h2>
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Does the world really need another adaptation of Louisa May Alcott's novel? Perhaps, as a man, the story doesn't resonate so deeply for me but I'll concede that Greta Gerwig does succeed in breathing some new life into a familiar story, mainly through an imaginative rethinking of the narrative structure and tongue-in-cheek approach to the ending. There are also some excellent performances from Saoirse Ronan and Florence Pugh in particular.<br />
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15. Atlantics (Mati Diop, France/Senegal/Belgium, 2019)</span></h2>
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I'm probably guilty of not giving enough kudos to the African films that come my way so, having only watched this a few days ago, it's nice to be able to redress that. This Senegalese ghost story, about drowned construction workers who return from beyond to seek justice from the boss who ripped them off, is far more subtle than any simple synopsis can adequately reflect, being closer to magic realism. In particular it's a doomed romance about the pressures on young women to escape poverty by marrying well.<br />
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14. Happy as Lazzaro (Alice Rohrwacher; Italy; 2018)</span></h2>
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This Italian tale of a young peasant farmworker, the archetypal holy fool, who returns to life years later is sad, mysterious and comic. After the messy disappointment of Paolo Sorentino's <i>Loro </i>this preserves something of the old lustre of Italian cinema.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">13. Marriage Story (Noah Baumbach, US, 2019)</span></b></h2>
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I've never seen Kramer vs. Kramer, so can't draw comparisons, but felt there was something of mid-period Woody Allen to this melancholy account of marital breakdown. Building on the success of his previous <i>The Meyerowtiz Stories</i>, Baumbach is one of those filmmakers who clearly benefits from the extra latitude that Netflix allows for, albeit it did feel about 20 minutes too long and there's a certain whiff of smug self regard at times. Scarlet Johansson and Adam Driver are both superb and presumably looking at Oscar nominations in a few weeks. <br />
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12. Burning (Lee Chang-dong, South Korea, 2018)</span></h2>
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This absorbing Korean psychodrama, inspired by a Murakami short story, gets better on repeated viewings. A gormless young loner finds his world turned upside down by a chance meeting with an old school friend who has apparently nurtured a childhood crush on him, only for her to become beguiled by an enigmatic and wealthy stranger. When the girl disappears our protagonist begins to wonder whether the stranger is less Jay Gatsby than Dracula... but is it merely his own delusions? Director Lee Chang-dong revels in the ambiguities and leaves more questions than answers.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>11. The Lighthouse (Robert Eggers, US, 2019)</b></span><br />
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Robert Eggers' sophomore effort is another period-set psychological horror, and like <i>The Witch</i> one that leaves the viewer to decide where horror ends and absurdist parody begins. Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe engage in a full-out acting duel that makes no apologies for its excess but does run out of steam about twenty minutes before the film ends. Yet the gorgeous look of the film, shot in 35mm black and white in a square aspect ratio, is a thing to behold.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">10. The Last Black Man in San Francisco (Joe Talbot, US, 2019)</span></b></h2>
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Another of those films that I found was playing, quite inexplicably, at the Odeon when it really needed the nurturing of Curzon distribution. It's another story of the scourge of gentrification that erodes places, and people, of their identities. Perhaps the film might have benefitted from a little more anger, rather than the prevailing tone of twee lament, but I still found it a pleasant way to spend a couple of hours.<br />
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9. Monos (Alejandro Landes, Colombia/US, 2019)</span></h2>
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This story of teenage guerrillas training is brutalising journey into an adolescent heart of darkness. Director Landes has explained the film is a metaphor of sorts for Colombia itself, struggling for a sense of identity and a victim of its internecine strife. There's a thrilling uncertainty to not knowing which characters will live or die during the fight and chase sequences. It also boasts some of the most arresting imagery of any film this year, shot in the mountains and jungles of Colombia, and a typically adventurous score by Mica Levi.<br />
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8. Eighth Grade (Bo Burnham, US, 2018)</span></h2>
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Rarely has a film taken such sadistic pleasure in growing pains and at times it's excruciating to watch. But Elsie Fisher's beautiful performance as the thirteen-year-old desperately wanting to be liked ultimately gives the story a life affirming optimism. I loved Anna Meredith's electronic score so much I imported a CD of the soundtrack.<br />
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7. Only You (Harry Wootliff, UK, 2018)</span></h2>
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This one had me digging out my old copy of Elvis Costello's Blood and Chocolate, as it features his 'I Want You' prominently. Yet it's the haunting use of the Chromatics' rendition of 'Blue Moon' over the closing credits, against a backdrop of its central characters dancing, that was one of my most haunting memories of any film this year. The story of the ups and downs in the relationship of a young couple (Josh O'Connor and Laia Costa), in particular their agonies in trying to conceive with IVF, was unfavourably compared by some with last year's Private Life, but for me it there was a rawness and authenticity the earlier film lacked.<br />
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<br /><span style="font-size: large;">6. The Irishman (Martin Scorsese, US, 2019)</span></h2>
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The film of the year for many, to my mind there's no escaping the fact that the Uncanny Valley of rejuvenation CGI, albeit it masterfully done at times, is a distraction. That said, it's probably Scorsese's most accomplished effort since <i>Goodfellas</i> and sees De Niro deliver his best performance in years. He's surpassed though by Pesci's beautifully subtle turn, very different from his earlier work with the director, and which embodies the heart of the story. It's a reflective rumination on the lives of violent men, delivered in the main without bombast or pyrotechnics, that's not afraid to take its time. In that regard it's also a highly indulgent piece of work that would have struggled to find backing without Netflix's involvement. <br />
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5. Can You Ever Forgive Me? (Marielle Heller, US, 2018)</span></h2>
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For me more resonant as a wistful elegy to loneliness in the big city than insightful as an account of Lee Israel's letter forgery, encapsulated by its use of Lou Reed's 'Goodnight Ladies' at the end. Melissa McCarthy demonstrates she's a far better actress than the numerous shitty comedies she's made could ever allow her to show, but upstaged gloriously by the renascent Richard E. Grant in what should have earned him an Oscar. <br />
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4. Us (Jordan Peele, US, 2018)</span></h2>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7441230359864631553" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Very much a brasher, bolder companion piece to Peele's previous <i>Get Out</i> in its modus operandi, using <i>Twilight Zone</i>-style tropes as a medium for social commentary. As a story its evil doppelganger premise is open to any number of interpretations but I saw it as a reflection on the 'other' America, the impoverished shadow self that needs to be be kept under. Given that baggage it's impressive Peele largely allows it to play out as a fun escapist horror movie that doesn't stumble under the weight of its pretensions. <br />
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3. Foxtrot (Samuel Maoz; Israel/Germany/France, 2017)</span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAXxkwdVUgD2ai1lnve53NZU9NrR67Lzmfow5mvLq48P0qsPwYuEWFnK0LGc6gfWjMYl9oGAkZ6EomvRhUPyi_i-SpJ5j_Ymnp-StQQsPbX6EUNU3wKUozaH33dLXNlN4Z0Ywi3EteQAx/s1600/foxtrot.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAXxkwdVUgD2ai1lnve53NZU9NrR67Lzmfow5mvLq48P0qsPwYuEWFnK0LGc6gfWjMYl9oGAkZ6EomvRhUPyi_i-SpJ5j_Ymnp-StQQsPbX6EUNU3wKUozaH33dLXNlN4Z0Ywi3EteQAx/s320/foxtrot.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>An affluent middle-aged Israeli couple receive a visit from some army officers informing them their son Jonathan has been killed in the line of duty. Over the next few hours they become swept up in a devastating, disorientating whirlpool of grief only to discover all is not quite what it seems. </div><div>
To say too much more would be to give the story away and I do hope people will be inspired to seek it out. Suffice to say that the titular foxtrot is also, in a sense, a figurative one as Maoz takes us sideways, backwards and back to where we started. In doing so, one devastating episode in particular is a scathing indictment of the Israelis' treatment of the Palestinians.<br />
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Something of an anomaly given it was first shown in 2017, but only got UK distribution in early 2019. Part of the reason for that may be the frosty reception it drew in its native Israel, where the culture minister accused it of "self-flagellation and cooperation with the anti-Israel narrative". But as Maoz pointed out you don't criticise the place you live unless you care about it.<br />
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2. Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood (Quentin Tarantino, US, 2019)</span></h2>
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Tarantino's picaresque account of three days in the lives of two Hollywood also-rans is a dazzling love letter to a bygone era of film and television. Like so much of his work the storyline comes to less than the sum of its parts but seldom has it been quite so subordinate to the immersive experience, happier to follow stuntman Cliff cruising through the city in his car, drop by at the Playboy Mansion, or watch Sharon Tate taking in one of her own movies at a local theatre. For the viewer who's not quite sure what to expect it's confusing, maybe even boring.<br />
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Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt are clearly having a whale of a time in the lead roles. Pitt in particular has matured enormously as an actor and learned less is more. In doing so he portrays Cliff an enigmatic depth, while his backstory hints at a much darker character. The third lead, Margot Robbie as Sharon Tate, is more problematic given the sparseness of dialogue she's granted. Is this really what Tate was like or merely Tarantino's fantasy or her?<br />
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Then there's the finale, and the reason I can't bring myself to give the film the top spot. It's not what Tarantino does, because anybody familiar with his work - in particular <i>Inglourious Basterds</i> - will know that he's not averse to changing history and there was a very good chance he'd pull the same trick here. But the misogynistic gusto with which the Manson gang meet a very different fate went further than it needed to and left a bad taste in the mouth. It's his best work since <i>Pulp Fiction</i>, and possibly his last stab at a Best Director Oscar, but in the #MeToo era such a lack of contrition doesn't feel acceptable.<br />
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<br /><span style="font-size: large;">1. Parasite (Bong Joon-ho, South Korea, 2019)</span></h2>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7441230359864631553" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>So my favourite film this year is one of the last I watched on this list and hasn't actually had an official release yet, but I caught two previews of it in the space of five days during December. Parasite isn't a film that's easily described. A family of four struggling to make ends meet, living in a squalid basement apartment and earning money by assembling pizza boxes, have a stroke of luck when a friend of Ki-woo, the son, offers him the opportunity to take over the role of an English tutor for a wealthy family. Not only does Ki-woo get the job but before long, through a variety of plots and contrivances, the rest of the family also secure jobs as the art therapist, chauffeur and housekeeper for the same well-to-do employers. But just as they're luxuriating in their newfound good fortune, with their benefactors out of town on a holiday break, an unexpected visitor throws everything into disarray and chaos, and ultimately bloodshed, ensues.<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7441230359864631553"></a>The story bounds along as a black comedy farce but gets progressively darker and more disturbing. Oddly enough, as I watched it I was struck by the parallels with other films this year. Like <i>Us</i> it takes quite literally the idea of an underclass and the social schism between the haves and have-nots, like <i>Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood</i> it culminates in a crescendo of violent excess that nothing beforehand has entirely prepared us for, and like (a film I have real problems with) Joker it poses the question whether life isn't ultimately just a sick comedy.<br />
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Bong Joon-ho's comparatively high international profile (his previous film was the Netflix-backed, albeit disappointing, <i>Okja</i>) has turned this into something of a breakthrough film for South Korean cinema and there's talk it could follow its Palme d'Or success with more accolades at the Golden Globes and even the Oscars. It's an entertaining piece of storytelling, by turns laugh-out-loud funny and shocking, that's also not afraid to leave the viewer with some awkward questions. </div>
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Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-85528053624379085792018-12-31T09:30:00.000+01:002020-01-10T14:45:11.074+01:00Fade Out: The Best films of 2018<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">25. Ghost stories (Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman, UK, 2017)</span></span></h2>
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I know some didn't like this but I thought it came very close to understanding how horror and comedy derive from the same irrational place.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;" /><h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">24. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey and Rodney Rothman, US, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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The year's surprise entry, perhaps fittingly given we've lost both Steve Ditko and Stan Lee in recent months. Person<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">ally I'm not a fan of the 'Spider-Verse' comics but the story is told with visual panache.</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">23. Loveless [Nelyubov] (Andrey Zvyagintsev, Russia, 2017)</span></span></h2>
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This tale of a young boy's disappearance from Andrey Zvyagintsev (<i>Leviathan</i>, et al) is an acerbic allegory about the sorry state of Russia today.</span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">22. Cold War (Pawel Pawilkowski, Poland/UK/France, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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There's no doubting it looks absolutely gorgeous although I find Pawel Pawlikowski's perfectly executed formalism, as in previous work such as I<i>da</i>, leaves me a little... well... cold.</span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">21. Faces Places (Agnes Varda and JR, France, 2017)</span></span></h2>
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Agnes Varda's unconventional road movie, travelling around rural France with mural artist JR. A bit gutted we didn't get a Jean-Luc Godard cameo though... the bastard.<br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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Another veteran documentarian, Frederick Wiseman, with a sprawling, ruminative look at a venerated institution.<br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">19. Pajaros de Verano (Birds of Passage) (Cristina Gallego and Ciro Guerra, Colombia, 2018)</span></b></span></h2>
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Ciro Guerra's follow-up to the sublime <i>Embrace of the Serprent </i>doesn't quite reach the same dizzy heights but is an absorbing account of the early days of the Colombian drug trade. Shades of The Godfather and Scarface but rendered in an altogether more oneiric sensibility.<br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">18. A Ciambra (Jonas Carpignano, Italy, 2017)</span></span></h2>
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Italian rites of passage story with just a touch of <i>The Bicycle Thieves</i> to it.<br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">17. The Guilty</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline;">(</span>Gustav Möller, Denmark, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">Clever little 'single location' Danish pic about an emergency call dispatcher. I saw the twist coming a mile off but it's still riveting.</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">16. 3 Days in Quiberon (Emily Atef, Germany/Austria/France, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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I like biopics when they take an oblique approach rather than trying to cram in the whole life story. This account of the circumstances surrounding an infamous interview actress Romy Schneider gave to the German magazine Stern in 1981, a year before her death, doesn't pull any punches and yet, thanks in no small part to Marie Bäumer's powerful interpretation of Schneider, leaves its subject with some dignity restored.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">15. The Old Man and the Gun (David Lowery, US, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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David Lowery is a director with whom I often feel on the same wavelength. Last year's <i>Ghost Story</i> was a haunting experience, both literally and emotionally, and while this gentle crime caper doesn't have the same pretensions he perfectly captures the look and feel of the early 80's. Robert Redford is pretty good too.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">14. In Fabric (Peter Strickland, UK, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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Got an early look at Peter Strickland's latest at London Film Festival. Not up there with Berberian Sound Studio but dark, weird and very funny.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">13. BlacKkKlansman (Spike Lee, US, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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Spike Lee returns to form with a film that's as much a tribute to blaxploitation as a truth-is-stranger-than-fiction yarn.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">12. Mirai (Mamoru Hosodo, Japan, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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Beautifully realised anime by Mamoru Hosoda about a little boy adjusting to the arrival of his baby sister.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">11. Apostasy (Daniel Kokotajlo, UK, 2017)</span></span></h2>
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This tale of family discord among Jehovah's Witnesses is one of those bleak little realist stories that British cinema still does better than anywhere. Brilliantly pulls the rug from under the audience's feet halfway through.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">10. Leave No Trace (Debra Granik, US, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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Debra Granik's exploration of the relationship between a war veteran and his teenage daughter trying to find their place in the world. Great performances from Ben Foster and Tomasin McKenzie.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">9. Love, Simon (Greg Berlanti, US, 2018)</span></span></h2>
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Witty, thoughtful tale about a boy's coming out that restores some credibility to American teen comedies.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">8. Summer 1993 (</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">Carla Simón, France, 2017)</span></span></h2>
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The final scene alone is enough to leap this one up several places. One can only marvel at the performances debutante director Carla Simón drew from the child actors<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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Sometimes, quite regularly in fact, I lose faith in American horror movies. Yet it's a genre of simple pleasures and all that's ever really needed is a dash of imagination. Glad this one did good business.<br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">More Amarcord really, as Alfonso Cuarón's autobiographical latest owes a debt to Fellini. But there are some fabulous set pieces here, such as the student protests and climactic beach scene, not to mention a wealth of incidental details. My only reservation is, like </span><i style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">Cold War</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">, I wonder if digital cinematography doesn't make things a little too crisp and perfect.</span></div>
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This Oakland-set comedy drama seems to have passed most people by, but I thought it was a terrific piece of social commentary with a commanding performance by Daveed Diggs.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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I have a real soft spot for New York indie filmmaking and this docudrama about sisterhood among girl skateboarders is an absolute gem.<br /><br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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A back-to-form Paul Schrader channels Bergman's WINTER LIGHT before taking things a bit TAXI DRIVER. Great performance from Ethan Hawke.<br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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In which Hirokazu Koreeda clarifies why he sees himself as closer to Ken Loach than Yasujiro Ozu. Yet the societal critique never detracts from his gentle style, reassuringly back in tune after the strange anomaly that was THE THIRD MURDER.<br /></span><h2 style="text-align: left;">
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Paul Thomas Anderson's dreamlike tale, a twisted romance and elegy to 1950's London haute couture, improves with repeat viewings like <i>There Will Be Blood</i> did. But as much as Anderson, or Day-Lewis's (supposed) swansong as Reynolds Woodcock, the film belongs to Jonny Greenwood's entrancing score.</span></div>
Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-40792459933441299212017-01-07T13:18:00.003+01:002017-01-07T13:18:55.871+01:00The London That Nobody Knew<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Here's something I wrote back in 2010, a quasi travel piece revisiting the locations James Mason visits in the 1967 documentary <b>The London Nobody Knows</b>...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBzWaGqCUExnwMYWZklTcIo2i28dCwobPOLRepDMODwhsyWB87O9sE_0HbV1TT6lO_0_Y9gPmcIVXEY26WJDYnDvTgjoiIahZw0mV5m_oVTmS3uom8pxbjlliKJhVRhxWULR25qAPCN6J/s1600/LONDONNOBODYKNOWSHRws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBzWaGqCUExnwMYWZklTcIo2i28dCwobPOLRepDMODwhsyWB87O9sE_0HbV1TT6lO_0_Y9gPmcIVXEY26WJDYnDvTgjoiIahZw0mV5m_oVTmS3uom8pxbjlliKJhVRhxWULR25qAPCN6J/s320/LONDONNOBODYKNOWSHRws.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Why choose to make a journey here? The answer lies in T<i>he London Nobody Knows</i>, a curious 1967 documentary largely forgotten by all but the most discerning of film aficionados. Loosely adapted from the book of the same name by Geoffrey Fletcher, it followed James Mason meandering around some of the capital's seamier locations. From archaic Camden Town to the bustle of Church Street Market, and culminating in a visit to the site of one of Jack the Ripper's murders in Spitalfields; it was a lamentation for the predominantly Victorian London fast disappearing beneath the tide of modernity. It had been a compulsion of mine for a while to spend a day revisiting the locations and discover how much of it had survived.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Judging from the opening location the portends were less than promising; in 1967 this had been the site of the Bedford Music Hall. The theatre itself had closed in 1959 and Mason had forlornly surveyed its putrefying interior against a soundtrack of music hall favourite 'The Boy I Love is Up in the Gallery' in the opening scene. It hardly seems surprising the wrecking balls descended just two years later. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Yet the Bedford's fate is not typical of Camden, where vestiges of what Mason describes as "the world of Sickert" are ubiquitous. Ambling along the side streets towards Camden Lock I watch a market trader manfully hauling a hand-drawn cart laden with goods to his pitch, a scene that might have been plucked from a century earlier.? A short distance away on Agar Grove can be found the location of the Camden Town Murder, inspiration for Sickert's most infamous painting. Unsurprisingly there is no marker to commemorate this; the house's shuttered windows plead for anonymity and I swiftly depart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It's striking how a place will stoically retain its identity regardless of cultural shifts and happily Church Street Market off Edgware Road appears to have done so. A seemingly infinite alignment of fruit and veg, knock-down clothing and bric-a-brac stalls vies for the visitor's attention. These days you're more likely to be served by Indian or Bangladeshi stallholders than 1967 but on a Saturday it's no less a hubbub of barter and commerce, even at nine in the morning when I visit. I'm tempted to loiter and perhaps exchange a few words with one of the old gents sat outside the cafes ruminating, but my itinerary is full and this can only be a passing visit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Amongst the most memorable episodes in the film was the anecdote of the goldfish that inhabited a gents toilet between Holborn and Proctor Street. The spot was now an anonymous traffic island, ironically one I'd crossed many times in the past without appreciating its significance <i>en route </i>to nearby Conway Hall. Yet not far from there, in Star Yard off Chancery Lane another sanitorial curiosity survives: a cast-iron Victorian lavatory in the tradition of the continental pissoirs. Although locked and decommissioned it's gratifying to find it's hitherto escaped the judicious attention of progress.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Taking a leisurely stroll across the Thames to Bankside, I arrived in more conventional tourist territory and the location of Mason's sole excursion south of the river. Cardinal's Cap Wharf stands next to what is now the Globe Theatre and was, according to the plaque outside, the house Christopher Wren inhabited during the construction of St Paul's Cathedral, of which it offers an excellent view. But historians now suspect Wren never actually stayed there and the legend had probably helped to preserve it. Given my pursuit of places deemed unworthy it was difficult not to feel resentful this dull little building had apparently endured through a fallacy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It was past midday by the time I headed back north towards Islington. Intermittent downpours had left me cursing my lack of foresight in not wearing a waterproof coat but there was the incentive of lunch at Manzies Pie and Mash shop on Chapel Market. It may no longer boast live eels on display as seen in the film, but business remained brisk. The ambience was friendly and unpretentious; much like the food which has remained much the same since Victorian times. As I tucked in and listened to some of the banter from other patrons it was clear most were regulars. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The break had done little to alleviate my weary legs after seven hours of walking as I made my way east to Commercial Road and the site of the former Grand Palais Yiddish Theatre. It was a perfunctory gesture as the theatre had long since gone the way of its Camden counterpart and now housed the clothing wholesalers Flick Fashions. At least here there was the consolation the building had remained intact.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Indeed, whilst the film admonished the advance of the "enormous office blocks" that threatened to engulf Spitalfields it's notable how many of these narrow streets still cling to their archaic quality, in peculiar juxtaposition to the glass and steel monuments to modernity a short distance away. The gloomy yard Mason visited in Hanbury Street - where Ripper victim Annie Chapman's body was found - has gone, but the flaking paintwork of the notorious Ten Bells pub suggests a reluctance to succumb to gentrification. It was only mid-afternoon as I strolled along Artillery Lane but upon hearing some lads approaching behind me I couldn't help but feel a certain foreboding and decided it was time to bring this pilgrimage to a close.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Forty-three years ago at the height of Swinging London and the optimistic embrace of all things new it's unsurprising there was a fear for what might be lost. Sentimentality isn't exactly conducive to the requirements of a modern city and inevitably some places or aspects of our heritage are sacrificed at the altar of pragmatism. Yet few places can claim such a wealth of history as London and, as I'd found, sometimes the remnants of things past may persist long after their expected demise. </span>
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Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-49881667119965413922014-11-02T02:16:00.000+01:002016-10-20T02:17:43.874+02:00Nightcrawler<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I read a comment on Twitter earlier today that satire had ended the day Barrack Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize. Putting aside the specious rationale of that particular bestowal it’s true that modern satire lacks something in grandeur and ferocity. It’s the age of <i>The Onion</i> and <i>The Daily Show</i>; more wisecracks than wizening.</div>
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<span class="s1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Last year the cinema brought us <i>Spring Breakers</i>, <i>The Bling Ring</i> and <i>The Wolf of Wall Street</i>; celebrations of hedonistic vacuity that wanted to have their cake and eat it, or perhaps a more fitting analogy might be going to an exclusive restaurant and being served <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a Big Mac. We could see the joke but the nagging suspicion remained that the gag was really on us and that the films <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>were more an indulgence of style over substance.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Which in a way makes Dan Gilroy’s <i>Nightcrawler</i> a pleasingly old school contrast in its lacerating of the American Dream and that age-old scourge of the cinema: television, played superficially as a crime thriller.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">‘Nightcrawling’ is the term for the opportunist freelance cameramen who scan police radio and roam the streets of Los Angeles in search of grizzly traffic incidents and violent crimes that they can sell footage of to news networks. “If it bleeds it leads” a veteran nightcrawler tells Lou Bloom (Jake Gyllenhaal), a young loner and smalltime crook looking for a career who chances upon such a filming.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">In no time at all Bloom has set himself up in business, discovering that a lack of moral scruples and the self-taught management rhetoric he adopts as a mantra make him ideally suited to rise in his chosen profession. His exploits bring him into contact with Nina (Rene Russo), a veteran news editor desperate to secure exclusives that might just keep her in a job and the two fall develop a symbiotic, not to mention perverse, relationship that sees Bloom keep pushing the envelope in his desire to reach the top.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From thirties screwballs such as<i> It Happened One Night </i>and <i>His Girl Friday, </i>to allegories of the abuse of power such as <i>Ace in the Hole</i> and <i>Sweet Smell of Success </i>to the post Watergate cynicism of <i>Network</i>, Hollywood’s fascination with all that is venal and self serving about the news media has seldom abated, and perhaps it’s that it perceives its own dark reflection.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yet scandalous as it might be the only thing that’s really new about this form of journalism is it’s choice of medium. Sixty-five years ago Bloom would have been trying to hawk his offerings to downmarket tabloids or the lurid crime magazines like <i>True Detective</i> which Americans read in copious quantities and this could as easily be an oblique updating of a Chandler or Hammett story. The noir influence permeates to such such an extent that the handful of daylight scenes seem like limp and perfunctory connecting devices. Bloom’s psychopathology appears less that of an aberrant personality and more a symptom of LA’s endemic sleaze.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Gyllenhaal is seldom off screen and his portrayal of Bloom – a gaunt, intense parody of the go-getting entrepreneur, seemingly naive but increasingly Machiavellian – is chilling and magnetic. Comparisons have been made with Christian Bale’s <i>American Psycho</i>, but Gyllenhaal is a more accessible, far less introverted performer. It could be his most career-defining role since he first emerged with <i>Donnie Darko</i> and an Oscar nomination wouldn’t appear out of the question.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Although she gets less screen time Russo (writer/director Gilroy’s real-life spouse) also excels. In one of the film’s most memorable scenes, Bloom nonchalantly sets out why sleeping with him would make sound business sense, has little choice but to accede to his demands. Like JG Ballard’s <i>Crash </i>(and Cronenberg’s adaptation of the same), there’s a suggestion that the scenes of carnage Lou seeks out to film is borne partly of sexual perversion, albeit with greed as an aphrodisiac.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Ultimately the film’s only real failing is that of all but the most epic satires: a lack of pathos. As Bloom goes to ever more outrageous lengths to gain exclusives so does our desire for some sense of moral restoration. That this never materialises diminishes the whole and leaves an absence of closure; faithful to the cynical truths it espouses perhaps, but forsaking catharsis to do so.</span></div>
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Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-76701721896849498922014-10-19T15:35:00.002+02:002014-10-20T13:14:40.160+02:00Fehér Isten [White God] (2014, Hungary); Dir. Kornél Mundruczó<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MGNoIe41NyJAADiyPhCc9hrHPQRclaeLXUYQzOYlN3UN7lJ2jInwvPf9MOgcY5YyF96SCKOqvY-vEOUwSrSZz-VDPBvgpviNFXFTKQNldAvSA70AxmOTHUBcgHuDoMVX7nVnHv5q3OV2/s1600/a-film-plakatja-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MGNoIe41NyJAADiyPhCc9hrHPQRclaeLXUYQzOYlN3UN7lJ2jInwvPf9MOgcY5YyF96SCKOqvY-vEOUwSrSZz-VDPBvgpviNFXFTKQNldAvSA70AxmOTHUBcgHuDoMVX7nVnHv5q3OV2/s1600/a-film-plakatja-2.jpg" height="320" width="223" /></a><span style="float: left; font-size: 65px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 45px; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;">T</span>he story goes that in 1929 when the ballots were counted for the inaugural Academy Award for Best Actor, the male performer garnering the most votes was not Emil Jannings, who ultimately received the prize, but a ten year-old orphan of the First World War who had become one of Warner Bros most bankable assets in a succession of cheap and cheerful adventure yarns. His name was Rin Tin Tin. </div>
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Like many apocryphal tales it's probably more revealing than the reality. Jannings' Hollywood career would end shortly afterwards when the introduction of sound rendered his thick German accent impractical. He returned to his homeland, where he made <i>The Blue Angel</i> with Marlene Dietrich, and continued working when the Nazis came to power, being lauded by Goebbels and appearing in several propaganda films during WWII. After the Nazis defeat Jannings was banned from acting, his reputation forever tarnished. Rin Tin Tin on the other hand became a byword for Hollywood's pioneering age and archetype of the scene-stealing animal actor.<br />
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Audiences may have grown more sophisticated in the 90 years since Rin Tin Tin rose to fame, but our affinity for animal performers, particularly of the canine variety, remains undiminished. In 2001 critics at the Cannes Festival initiated the Palm Dog Award to recognise noteworthy canine actors, be they real or animated. Past recipients have included Uggie, the undoubted star of Michel Hazanavicius's silent homage <i>The Artist.</i></div>
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This year, Cannes' cynophilic critics awarded the prize to the four-legged cast of <i>White God</i>, Hungarian director Kornél Mundruczó's apocalyptic satire about a canine uprising, where it also received The Prize Un Certain Regard. Ahead of a general UK release next year the film was entered in the London Film Festival and an impressive crowd convened at for a screening at the Odeon Covent Garden on a rainy Sunday night on October 12.<br />
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Ostensibly it's the story of Hagen, a good natured cross-breed (or mutt, depending on your standpoint) whose 12 year-old owner Lili is forced to move in with her estranged father when her mother goes overseas on business. It's quickly apparent that dad doesn't share Lili's deep affection for Hagen and when tensions finally reach breaking point he hurls the dog into the streets of Budapest to fend for itself.<br />
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After briefly finding solace with a community of fellow strays, Hagen falls into the hands of criminals, gets pumped with steroids to make him more aggressive, and is trained for a gruesome career as a fighting dog. When he's then locked up in the dog pound and faces extermination, our hero finally decides it's time to stick it to the Man and instigates a full-blown revolt, which quickly spreads across the city and leaves the human population in besieged terror.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-ORE4aBvKJYstGoj0v88DHjwMzsM8OctAj-KdEqlhLGmDoclEi-hz4wQrX4i1A-1bsXTDEaYrhvH78JdTgdKmp0ft5bX5w9goC6B66uT_oZupTlEHVvFrJMKArd48VTeh95L3KBJkEGH/s1600/white-god-2014-004-dogs-rampaging-down-street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-ORE4aBvKJYstGoj0v88DHjwMzsM8OctAj-KdEqlhLGmDoclEi-hz4wQrX4i1A-1bsXTDEaYrhvH78JdTgdKmp0ft5bX5w9goC6B66uT_oZupTlEHVvFrJMKArd48VTeh95L3KBJkEGH/s1600/white-god-2014-004-dogs-rampaging-down-street.jpg" height="254" width="320" /></a>How or what has caused the behaviour of Hagen and his accomplices is never explained, although there is a tongue in cheek implication that it may originate with infected meat at the abattoir where Lili's father works. Even when the dogs begin brutally settling scores with their erstwhile tormentors the tone is more blackly comic than horrifying, sometimes slyly recalling scenes in other 'man vs. beast' movies such as <i>The Birds</i>, <i>Jurassic Park</i> and <i>Rise of the Planet of the Apes</i>. Like the latter film in particular we find ourselves siding with the animals when they turn the tables. Everybody loves an underdog.<br />
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Yet, in novel contrast to modern Hollywood, the film was entirely shot in live action and required extensive training not only of Hagen (who was in fact played by two American dogs), but the entire canine cast. Knowing this adds an extra appreciation to certain scenes, such as Lili being pursued by the dogs through Budapest's deserted streets and a remarkable closing shot that can only have been achieved through hours of forbearance.<br />
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Speaking at a Q&A after the screening, Mundruczó explained how he had originally taken inspiration from J.M. Coatzee's novel <i>Disgrace</i> and the shame he felt looking through the fence of a dog pound and then began to consider the potential of an allegorical tale about the persecution of minorities. "You can criticise your society without a direct political statement, which I think this is something far from art. In my eyes political art is not like journalism" he said.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>White God's </i>director Kornél Mundruczó with co screenwriter <br />
Viktória Petrányi (l) at the London Film Festival</td></tr>
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Hungarian premier Viktor Orban's anti-liberal, pro-nationalist stance, inspired by Putin's posturing, has seen systemic attacks on national media outlets which don't share his philosophy. Internationally <i>White God</i> has been well received but in Hungary, Mundruczó noted, the critics have been divided by its unclassifiable nature. The public though were far more generous, something which gives the director hope that free speech and independent thought can still prosper.<br />
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Some detractors have reproached the distinctly one dimensional characterisation of the human cast, a criticism that seems akin to criticising <i>Some Like It Hot </i>for not being an earnest depiction of transvestitism or organised crime. It's true that some of the more melodramatic scenes between Lili and her father don't quite come off, but the story is obviously a fable, and as such populated largely by stock characters. As a surreal fantasy, and as an incitement to thought, it more than delivers<br />
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<i>White God</i>'s dedication to the late Miklós Jancsó, the great Hungarian director who often delivered veiled critiques of the political system in films such as <i>The Round-Up</i>, is a reminder of eastern European cinema's proud history of allegorical cinema. Jancsó was able to see a preview of <i>White God</i> shortly before he died early this year and it's no surprise it received his endorsement.</div>
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Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-9764784029434940162014-01-19T09:50:00.002+01:002014-07-27T12:51:18.443+02:00Fragments of Fame - Cigarette Cards & Forgotten Film Stars <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One morning last summer, while watching <i>The Wicked Lady</i>, I found myself intrigued by the mischievous glint of the actress who'd been cast in the role of the supporting role of <span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">Lady Henrietta Kingsclere, sister-in-law to Margaret Lockwood's character in the film. A quick check of the ever-reliable (except when it's not) Wikipedia advised me her name was Enid Stamp Taylor, a name hitherto unfamiliar to me.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9dDHce8MuqfC36rX4CFVq2KgYXsne_IVG0PKAZOPGYWPzTl7LIJcPK38Ud9kcxyGjml5aayvq-jHoKatbEtG37L24XLMpnsGcJgsmP9kex0aCHY71PD_1Z4AH8hnsIhf4rZFD7w8-vEy/s1600/Enid+Stamp-Taylor.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9dDHce8MuqfC36rX4CFVq2KgYXsne_IVG0PKAZOPGYWPzTl7LIJcPK38Ud9kcxyGjml5aayvq-jHoKatbEtG37L24XLMpnsGcJgsmP9kex0aCHY71PD_1Z4AH8hnsIhf4rZFD7w8-vEy/s1600/Enid+Stamp-Taylor.png" height="320" title="End Stamp-Taylor" width="173" /></span></a><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">After first making her mark in Hitchcock's <i>Easy Virtue,</i> Taylor had enjoyed moderate success as a leading lady in British films of the 1930's before settling into smaller parts. As it happens <i>The Wicked Lady</i> was her penultimate picture; she died as a result of injuries sustained in a fall (most likely caused by a seizure) just a couple of months after it was released, aged just 42. </span><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">It was when I ran an image search for Taylor on Google that my attention was grabbed not by a photograph, but an illustration of her that adorned an old cigarette card.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nothing terribly interesting or surprising about that, you might think. Possibly, but until then I'd always imagined that the screen icons depicted on cigarette cards were the leading Hollywood players of the day, not those of the somewhat more parochial British film scene. Spurred by this discovery it wasn't long before I was perusing the listings of old cigarette cards on eBay which, as it happened, were often available in full sets for quite reasonable prices. What fascinated me were not those cards bearing pictures of celebrities who remain familiar to us today, but those for whom posterity hasn't been so generous. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so it transpired that I started buying cigarette cards of film stars and have now built up quite a respectable collection. If there was any doubt before I think it's official: I'm a geek.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For those non cartophiles (as we're apparently known) out there it might help to briefly summarise the history of these papery ephemera. The precise origins of cigarette cards, and who first thought of the idea to print a picture on the stiffening card used to reinforce the flimsy early cigarette packs as a promotional tool, is something of a mystery. However there's a general consensus the earliest known cards are those of the American manufacturer Allen and Ginter in 1875 and that from the start pictures of actresses, as well as those of sportsmen and even Indian chiefs, were typical subject matter. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oddly enough cigarette cards didn't prove particularly successful in the US and it wasn't until the idea was imported to Britain a few years later that the story gathers momentum. Bristol-based manufacturer W.D. & H.O. Wills began distributing two-colour advertisement cards around 1887/88 and John Player & Sons took the next step with the first British general interest set, 'Castles and Abbeys', in 1893. It didn't take long for the other tobacco companies to cotton on to this enticement to brand loyalty.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivChhbyMO1xplcRCcwqR_4Al03RdZyfYuGHVbqbQD8a33b9V2yNjTYIpn53i6wc-y7RYOG_un4wZN9hfjBRtTE6fL3Jtm3708ffExT-KMJOWLxl-x4-v-KRbFGxgUWLK9yImvemqBLkwMi/s1600/Edison+Guinea+Gold.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivChhbyMO1xplcRCcwqR_4Al03RdZyfYuGHVbqbQD8a33b9V2yNjTYIpn53i6wc-y7RYOG_un4wZN9hfjBRtTE6fL3Jtm3708ffExT-KMJOWLxl-x4-v-KRbFGxgUWLK9yImvemqBLkwMi/s1600/Edison+Guinea+Gold.png" height="320" width="203" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The undisputed kings of those early days however were Thomas Ogden, whose Guinea Gold series of cards first appeared in 1894 and ran until 1907. Guinea Gold cards are almost a phenomena in themselves; a fascinating miscellany of the preoccupations of a Victorian Britain basking in the golden age of the Empire and with subject matter ranging from personalities involved in the Boxer Rebellion to Indian landscapes through to racehorses and ships.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was Guinea Gold who, so far as can be ascertained, issued the first card to feature an individual associated specifically with the nascent wonder of the Cinematograph. It was not however an actor but one of its self-proclaimed inventor: Thomas Edison. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Enter Cinema</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">As mentioned actresses, of the theatrical variety, were to be found on cigarette cards almost from their inception and the trend for featuring images of attractive ladies, or 'beauties' as they were typically described, was by no means diminished when the novelty migrated to Britain and its territories. Even in those less overt times sex sold and tobacco manufacturers were keen for their consumers to draw an association between the female form and the sensual appeal of smoking. It might be stretching a point to suggest cigarette cards were the internet pornography of the Victorian/Edwardian era but more risque material was harder to come by.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">The stage, both legitimate theatre and music hall, continued to be a source of inspiration for the tobacco companies at the turn of the century, but as the general public remained clueless to the identities of the actors in those early moving pictures there were no film 'stars' to feature. By 1909 many would be familiar with the names of the major studios: Biograph, Vitagraph, Edison, Essanay and perhaps with Britain's most prolific film producer of the time, Cecil Hepworth. Most these companies maintained their own repertories of contracted actors and actresses, many of whom were drawn from the stage. However, they were rarely credited and it was left to the public to dimly perceive those players they may have seen in an earlier film.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Although the Edison Co began publicising their leading actors slightly earlier the decisive, if somewhat romanticised, moment came in 1910 when Universal Studios future founder Carl Laemmle poached Biograph's brightest talent, Florence Lawrence. After planting false information in the press that Lawrence had died in a train crash, then allowing the public time to mourn and eulogise her passing, </span></span><span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #222222; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Laemmle</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"> confessed his ruse and announced she would henceforth be appearing exclusively in films by his own company, Independent Motion Pictures (or IMP). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">The story crossed the Atlantic and Florence Lawrence became the first movie star whose name had currency with the British public. She was swiftly followed by others, such as her successor as 'Biograph Girl' Mary Pickford and the now sadly maligned Mabel Normand, another Biograph player, who defected to Mack Sennett's newly formed Keystone Studios in 1912. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FlX0p2RndNrIb07ZnVOdgPeeaV7YoJ-Lo_-2wBmgfSO36YND1Ca9YNkjOpFgD2oyJE-NJJy2V0vqBFZAMTZCZkPS-s6D20Xw4zscCE_I25iCIYED5joiNtQwsTBFPnQXCb4bz-zhDZIT/s1600/James+Wilson+Cinematograph+Actors.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FlX0p2RndNrIb07ZnVOdgPeeaV7YoJ-Lo_-2wBmgfSO36YND1Ca9YNkjOpFgD2oyJE-NJJy2V0vqBFZAMTZCZkPS-s6D20Xw4zscCE_I25iCIYED5joiNtQwsTBFPnQXCb4bz-zhDZIT/s1600/James+Wilson+Cinematograph+Actors.png" height="320" title="James Wilson actor" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Wilson aka Billy Quirk (apparently)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">So it was that in 1913 London-based tobacconists Major Drapkin and Co. could issue the first series of cards exclusively dedicated to film stars, <i>Cinematograph Actors</i>, confident that the names and faces would be recognised.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">I recently acquired a few cards in this series (a full set would likely cost upwards of £500) and they're a revealing insight into those early days of film stardom. A number of the early pioneers are present: Florence Lawrence and Mary Pickford are joined by a few recognisable names such as Francis X. Bushman and the French comedian Max Linder (a formative influence on Chaplin) but the vast majority are mere ghosts, their work long since lost to the ravages of time upon brittle and volatile nitrate film stock.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">It's notable that most the pictures display the idents of that particular actor's studio, suggesting these names were at least as commonly known as that of the stars themselves. For the film historian trawling the internet for any clues to who these people were (i.e. me) this can be invaluable. Typical of this is 'James Wilson' (pictured), an actor with Biograph who made a number of films with D.W. Griffith, who was actually better known by the moniker of Billy Quirk (and indeed usually sported a hairpiece).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitv7tzxL8VG9h7JnZj3DfkdHEKhGSquLwdSCF8ypLOgDCFqVM-Mg4A4oJWAshbWx0DSHdm0OTP6pMPU1XJexvjkmzoc7U8_Ht-YvA2LoyqFxB4NIxxTKvWqrWdzJMKnLBFFA402ibC1HA0/s1600/Lily+Ward+Wills+Scissors+Cinema+Stars.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitv7tzxL8VG9h7JnZj3DfkdHEKhGSquLwdSCF8ypLOgDCFqVM-Mg4A4oJWAshbWx0DSHdm0OTP6pMPU1XJexvjkmzoc7U8_Ht-YvA2LoyqFxB4NIxxTKvWqrWdzJMKnLBFFA402ibC1HA0/s1600/Lily+Ward+Wills+Scissors+Cinema+Stars.png" height="320" title="Lily Ward" width="181" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Before long all the tobacco card manufacturers wanted a piece of this new novelty. A 25-card series called <i>Cinema Stars</i> issued by Wills in 1916 indicates British cinema had now started to develop a star system of its own. Alongside Gertrude Robinson and Ethel Barrymore are such home-grown talent as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queenie_Thomas" target="_blank">Queenie Thomas</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0993712/bio" target="_blank">Lily Ward</a> and the exotically named 'Madame Pareva'. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Many were 15 minute sensations; Lily Ward was a product of the short-lived Yorkshire film industry financed by Bamforth Films, the company better known today for Donald McGill's saucy seaside postcards, before the demands of the First World War curtailed their aspirations. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">The set is completely comprised of women; the issuers perhaps deciding their customers had no interest in pictures of men who make a living prancing in front of a camera while fathers and sons were being slaughtered on the battlefields of Europe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">By the dawn of the1920's there's an increasing number of familiar names. F. & J. Smith's 1920 series </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Cinema Stars</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">, originals of which are much sought after today, has a roll-call including Chaplin (twice), Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuckle, Mabel Normand, Tom Mix, John Barrymore and British cinema's biggest star of the period Alma Taylor.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEMOSHHEjbsbrPMN1edIOqr3na7k2xFH47AoBAop6n0jorlTkTkJbtXuOa1jGotOHtfAoQdijym3UFp5-W-AF36J_rgtD8pSzWWmXlDiE_I7ltjx1Iwz6pnyu9SjA8TCB3hoX21XWPIin/s1600/Larry+Semon.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEMOSHHEjbsbrPMN1edIOqr3na7k2xFH47AoBAop6n0jorlTkTkJbtXuOa1jGotOHtfAoQdijym3UFp5-W-AF36J_rgtD8pSzWWmXlDiE_I7ltjx1Iwz6pnyu9SjA8TCB3hoX21XWPIin/s1600/Larry+Semon.png" height="320" title="Larry Semon" width="167" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">But there are also plenty of curiosities. Edwards, Ringer and Bigg's 1923 series </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Cinema Stars</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"> (get the impression there was a paucity of ideas when it came to naming these sets?) includes a rather distinctive figure they identify as 'Larry Seman'. In fact he was Larry Semon - stop tittering - a prolific comedian of the slapstick era who once drew comparisons with Keaton and Chaplin, worked with Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy before they were teamed together, and also directed the 1925 version of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">The Wizard of Oz</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Like a depressingly high number of those early stars Semon's fate was not a prosperous one. His elaborate visual gags and special effects proved so expensive that his studio Vitagraph finally demanded that Semon produce and underwrite his own films. Even a switch from shorts to more lucrative feature films couldn't arrest his growing financial woes and he finally suffered a nervous breakdown before dying of pneumonia. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">A number of Semon's shorts can be found on Youtube and are worth a look, if only to ponder how some comedians are canonised by history while others are consigned to obscurity.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFAebsI3U7XtkO1xk6yxK3CaMF3C1qr8fRYuN1orZwVZb-HKEWOcKalhjivQ2JyP-Au_UhFkNq-CkwDR0VtVTOtfTisGczqVzYT0PzfFdIc44H9YqiLt6wOn6zXsKeHfqEm7bf49Lqjygj/s1600/Tubby+Phillips.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFAebsI3U7XtkO1xk6yxK3CaMF3C1qr8fRYuN1orZwVZb-HKEWOcKalhjivQ2JyP-Au_UhFkNq-CkwDR0VtVTOtfTisGczqVzYT0PzfFdIc44H9YqiLt6wOn6zXsKeHfqEm7bf49Lqjygj/s1600/Tubby+Phillips.png" height="320" width="177" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tubby Phillips</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">If I had to pick a favourite series though it's a set of 50 cards called </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Who's Who in British Films </i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">issued by R. & J. Hill in 1927. The first card in the set is Betty Balfour, whom the blurb describes as "the Queen of British film stars", who she certainly was at that point, chiefly for starring in the 'Squibs' series of films. Balfour's career would nosedive with the advent of sound. Second is the series is a figure who remains remembered today as much for the songwriting awards that bear his name: Ivor Novello. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">There are one or two other familiar faces: the ill-fated Lilian Hall-Davis, Alma Taylor and the woman who started it all for me, Enid Stamp-Taylor. But for the main part it becomes a question of "Who Indeed?" and a voyage into the unknown... Adeline Hayden Coffin... Julie Suedo... Moore Marriot... Tubby Phillips... Pollie Emery... and more. These are British film stars and I feel I ought to know more of them and yet that's what makes it so intriguing. All that remains are these fragments of the fame that was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Cigarette cards continued to be issued in dozens of sets throughout the 1930's. I find these later series, although sometimes beautifully illustrated, hold less fascination simply because the icons they depict are often such familiar ones, at least to a film enthusiast. Then in 1940 </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">the paper and card rationing enforced by the Second World War brought about their abrupt demise. For whatever reason there was never any serious attempt to revive cigarette cards in the post-War years, although trading cards continued in other forms. So here they sit on my table, safely housed in plastic sleeves and ring binders, a vestige from a simpler time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Let's finish on some cards of note...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZnCE5jEmmIFg84Y0569pfONuoE_rm_z_9eOVTqaU-fLO-SErqB2bIRzB4jdz_Jr7e78Vfb44E1GvAucO_tivco1QmA5TXnZ0s22VdBwjcWY3vqrrgKC-Q0PcJbMmGsxlc7x1KjXmCfly/s1600/Chirgwin.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZnCE5jEmmIFg84Y0569pfONuoE_rm_z_9eOVTqaU-fLO-SErqB2bIRzB4jdz_Jr7e78Vfb44E1GvAucO_tivco1QmA5TXnZ0s22VdBwjcWY3vqrrgKC-Q0PcJbMmGsxlc7x1KjXmCfly/s1600/Chirgwin.png" height="320" title="George Chirgwin" width="238" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Strictly speaking my favourite card, one of the Guinea Gold series circa 1900, shouldn't really be classed as a film star. <b>George H. Chirgwin</b>, otherwise known as the White-eyed Kaffir, was one of the most popular music hall performers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. There were numerous other minstrel acts doing the circuit but few quite as distinctive as Chirgwin, who seldom appeared on stage without his make-up. He made a handful of appearances on film including one short, <i>The Blind Boy</i>, which he wrote and directed (was based on one of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eX3hMDFmSYE" target="_blank">his own songs</a>). Only a few seconds of footage of Chirgwin are known to still exist.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">I acquired this card after fending off an American bidder on eBay. In truth I paid more than I should but it's such a striking image it was worth it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIpkSiJQpa5j4AV7KzDovQaUPA18mLdP8VwUNqJ2ZMs3SOLf-Elu_aJ2jIa4IkeEHSjpQwME2x5noHZTkApN_iwQwUrt2PjfoHzn7tKihUAk_-fzQWudDtBIp61dJFUN2U_-XomXdjksBh/s1600/Monkman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIpkSiJQpa5j4AV7KzDovQaUPA18mLdP8VwUNqJ2ZMs3SOLf-Elu_aJ2jIa4IkeEHSjpQwME2x5noHZTkApN_iwQwUrt2PjfoHzn7tKihUAk_-fzQWudDtBIp61dJFUN2U_-XomXdjksBh/s1600/Monkman.jpg" height="320" title="Phyllis Monkman" width="178" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Part of British American Tobacco's <i>Actresses</i> series issued in 1910, <b>Phyllis Monkman</b> was a revue performer who made numerous forays onto the screen during a long career, including Hitchcock's <i>Blackmail</i>. However, history remembers her as the woman said to have taken the virginity of Prince Albert, or 'Bertie', the future King George VI during a private encounter. Historians have since debunked this, pointing to an encounter Bertie had with an unnamed woman in Paris (I love that serious historical debate is given over to the popping of royal cherries). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Either way, Phyllis was never averse to publicity and in 1916, at the height of the First World War, the periodical <i>Pearson's Weekly </i>ran a competition in which male readers were invited to write and apply for the chance to win a series of dates with, and possibly even marry, Miss Monkman if she could find her ideal man. Concerned by the burden frustrated soldiers might put upon the Army postal system, the authorities ordered that the competition be ended before there was a winner.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1zMsN7UJk3bduTRjSSTF1TJZ8uY4Bb38-jRM8cqS3PVxRnFZc3tsuDRYp4IdqU1TSIf8P49aFSaWSbG-MRGyj6oBQHEFVTlw9ZI2Ie0SPhnuzD2DHo-U-VHWBsMr69zo5oHZH7Si2doU/s1600/Mary+Miles+Minter.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1zMsN7UJk3bduTRjSSTF1TJZ8uY4Bb38-jRM8cqS3PVxRnFZc3tsuDRYp4IdqU1TSIf8P49aFSaWSbG-MRGyj6oBQHEFVTlw9ZI2Ie0SPhnuzD2DHo-U-VHWBsMr69zo5oHZH7Si2doU/s1600/Mary+Miles+Minter.png" height="320" title="Mary Miles Minter" width="184" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another from Wills's 1916 <i>Cinema Stars</i> set. </span>Frankly I wouldn't have even heard of <b>Mary Miles Minter</b> but for reading Sidney D. Kikpatrick's book <i>A Cast of Killers</i> last year, which recounts King Vidor's investigation into the 1922 murder of fellow director William Desmond Taylor. Minter had been a successful child star several years earlier, at the time this card was issued, and her success continued with an adaptation of <i>Anne of Green Gables</i>, directed by Taylor in 1919. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">A close relationship developed between the pair although opinions differ as to whether it was an affair or simply a teenage infatuation on Minter's part (Taylor was thirty years her senior). However, when romantic letters from Minter were found at Taylor's house after his murder her reputation was irrevocably tarnished and she retired from acting the following year. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Kirkpatrick's book, which dramatises supposedly actual events, climaxes with Vidor confronting Minter decades after the murder, still convinced that she or her mother were in some way implicated. Minter is depicted as a pathetic, Baby Jane-like figure, who had never been able to adjust to reality. Personally I'm not sure whether to believe it's a faithful account of what happened, but it certainly casts Minter in a weird light.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">From Edwards, Ringer and Bigg's </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Cinema Stars </i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">in 1923. Japanese actor <b>Sessue Hayakawa</b> will forever be remembered as Alec Guinness's nemesis Colonel Saito in <i>The Bridge on the River Kwai </i>so it's perhaps surprising to see him gracing a cigarette card so many years earlier. In fact I was shocked to learn Hayakawa was one of the highest-earning stars in Hollywood at the turn of the 1920's, with a popularity to rival that of Chaplin or Fairbanks (says Wikipedia). Hayakawa's brooding good looks and potent sexuality gave him heartthrob status at a time when Valentino was still scraping a living as a dancing waiter in New York.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Hayakawa had originally arrived in the US to study political economics at the University of Chicago but grew disillusioned and quit. It was only while waiting for a transpacific steamship in Los Angeles that he developed an interest in acting and theatre which changed his life. He'd arrived at the perfect time; the film industry's migration west had only started a few years previously and opportunities were plentiful. By 1921 leading roles in films such as <i>The Cheat</i> and <i>The Dragon Painter </i>had taken him all the way to the top.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">What went wrong? In short a profligate lifestyle and plain prejudice. By the time this card was issued he'd been forced out of Hollywood, but there were plenty more highs and lows to follow. Expect more on this fascinating figure in a future entry.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje0BWqHusCIhiE6TryMIe9LsEnw_3V0IE2FWHxrs3gNTGfBa4q8yXMZtqsb2f-_oxuo82SN1OhQ-qqVXkl_dBlQnuHoz9s7cZqTkwxnmwYco__yTYxfx7iDt1iui_yIoFNIC0fuJ9YakEM/s1600/Syd+Chaplin.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje0BWqHusCIhiE6TryMIe9LsEnw_3V0IE2FWHxrs3gNTGfBa4q8yXMZtqsb2f-_oxuo82SN1OhQ-qqVXkl_dBlQnuHoz9s7cZqTkwxnmwYco__yTYxfx7iDt1iui_yIoFNIC0fuJ9YakEM/s1600/Syd+Chaplin.png" height="320" width="167" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Wills's Cigarettes once again settled upon the imaginative title of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Cinema Stars</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"> for this 1928 set which contains what might seem like an anomaly. Charlie Chaplin, who'd been somewhat quiet since the release of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">The Gold Rush</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"> three years previously (but would shortly return with </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">The Circus</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">) isn't included in the series, but his brother </span><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">Sydney Chaplin</b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"> is. Rather than concoct something original to say I'll copy the text from the back of the card...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.18402862548828px;"><i>Beginning his stage career as a child, he went to sea for a time, but later returned to acting. After being his famous brother's manager for some while, Syd Chaplin decided to act for the films himself, and also struck out in comedy. His type of comedy and his technique are different from Charlie's, as may be seen from his films, which include "Charlie's Aunt", "The Better '`Ole" and "A Little Bit of Fluff." To make the last, he returned to England, having been a member of Fred Karno's famous "Mumming Birds" on stage over here many years ago. Born in Cape Town, South Africa, on March 17th, 1887, he has black hair and brown eyes.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.18402862548828px;">As it happens Syd was born in 1885 and was Charlie's half brother, his true paternity the source of some mystery. Syd had been enjoying some modest solo success as a comedy star back in England at the time this card was issued until claims of sexual assault (he was accused of biting off the nipple(!) of actress Molly Wright) in 1929 forced him to hightail it back to the US, leaving considerable debts in his wake. Thereafter he mainly focused on handling his brother's affairs and eventually settled in France, dying in 1965. From what I've seen of his work Syd has never struck me as more than a competent performer, but probably deserved better than to have a montage of moments put to a soundtrack of "The Wind Beneath My Wings" in a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDXWut8mTDc" target="_blank">sickly Youtube tribute</a>.</span></span></div>
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Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-7147490858030144682014-01-05T21:08:00.002+01:002014-05-26T16:50:20.784+02:00Margaret Lockwood: Darling of Suburbia - Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lockwood's former home: 34 Upper Park Road, Kingston<br />©Richard Halfhide</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">ondon’s cinematic psychogeography is a varied tapestry; some locations still seem permeated with mystery or drama, others bear no trace of their history. Sequestered in Upper Park Road, a quiet corner of Kingston upon Thames, is a house whose uniform nondescriptness belies its status as the final residence of an actress who was once the brightest light in British cinema. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Yet it’s entirely fitting. While she may have enjoyed its benefits <b>Margaret
Lockwood</b> never courted celebrity. The star of <i>The Man in Grey</i> and <i>The Wicked Lady </i>was at heart an ordinary, middle-class
girl; unpretentious and in some respects almost disappointingly prosaic. If her
reclusive later years bestowed an enigmatic quality it probably owes more to Lockwood’s
innate reserve than anything intrinsically Garboesque.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Nor
for that matter did she possess the caustic tongue of Louise Brooks, something borne out by the somewhat placid serialised account of her life Lockwood gave to the long-running fan magazine <i>Picturegoer </i>across five weeks between March and April, 1950. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Picturegoer</i>, March 25, 1950<br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Although it was followed by an autobiography, </span><i style="line-height: 115%;">Lucky Star</i><span style="line-height: 115%;">, a few years later the articles Lockwood just at the point when her celebrity was beginning to wane. Following a much-publicised dispute with Gainsborough her last two films, the melodrama </span><i style="line-height: 115%;">Madness of the Heart</i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> and knockabout historical comedy </span><i style="line-height: 115%;">Cardboard Cavalier,</i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> had been coolly received and Lockwood embarked on stage tours in Noel Coward's </span><i style="line-height: 115%;">Private Lives </i><span style="line-height: 115%;">and subsequently the title role in </span><i style="line-height: 115%;">Peter Pan. </i></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">A comeback - the spy film </span><i style="line-height: 115%;">Highly Dangerous</i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> - was already in pre-production but it seems likely that these articles had been conceived as a means of keeping Lockwood in the public eye during this screen hiatus. D</span>espite being only 33 Lockwood's very provincial brand of stardom was about to be supplanted by a younger, brasher generation of actresses who weren't afraid to flaunt their charms in a manner in which she would have surely demurred. Ironically <i>Picturegoer</i> itself would become renowned for its cheesecake covers of bikini-clad starlets over the next decade. </span><br />
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<span style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 3px; border-top-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 3px; float: left; font-size: 26px; margin: 10px 10px 5px 5px; padding: 10px; text-align: left; width: 220px;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"British films have not always given Margaret Lockwood a square deal, but she has always given them rather more than value for money."</i></span></span><br />
Popular appeal is crucial to understanding Margaret Lockwood's success. Between 1946 and 1948 she won the public vote in three consecutive Best Actress prizes at the Daily Mail National Awards, a precursor of sorts to the BAFTAs. A public appearance tour in 1945 drew hysterical responses from her devoted, largely female, fan base.<br />
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However the critical establishment treated Lockwood with at best ambivalence and sometimes outright hostility, particularly in the wake of the Gainsborough dispute. Film scholar Bruce Babbington, in his essay <i>''Queen of British hearts': Margaret Lockwood revisited' </i>suggests this was largely due to fears about the "feminisation" of British cinema generated by the success of the Gainsborough melodramas.<br />
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Lockwood's supporters such as Leonard Wallace, ghost writer of these memoirs, were truculent in their defence. "You only have to work with Margaret Lockwood to realize very quickly there's not an ounce of conceit in her... British films have not always given [her] a fair deal, but she has always given them rather more than value for money" he notes in his introduction.<br />
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Another was Daily Express feature writer Eve Patrick who devoted an entire article admonishing the increasingly vindictive attacks on Lockwood: "For too long now has Margaret Lockwood been a sitting target and general Aunt Sally for every would-be wisecracker."<br />
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To those only partially aware of the Lockwood cannon the criticisms do seem uncharitable and perhaps a little perplexing. My own perception was shaped by the vivacious young starlet of Hitchcock's <i>The Lady Vanishes, </i>where in both character and performance she was more than the equal of Michael Redgrave during their screwballesque exchanges. Lockwood's natural, unaffected manner in that film seems to anticipate the egalitarian, less class conscious spirit that would emerge during and after the war.<br />
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But while watching a number of Lockwood films over the course of the past year I would come to realise that neither is the <i>The Lady Vanishes </i>especially representative of her career. In fact, taken as a whole, as an actress she's deeply frustrating...<br />
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et's go back to the beginning. Margaret Mary Lockwood Day was born in Karachi, then India, in 1916. The Raj still firmly held dominion and Lockwood's father, an Englishman, was an administrator for the railways. Her mother, Margaret Evelyn Lockwood, a redoubtable Scot, wearied of their itinerant life on the subcontinent and decided to return to the UK, bringing Margaret and Margaret's elder brother, Lyn, with her. So peripheral does Margaret's father become thereafter that they were effectively a single parent family.<br />
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They eventually settled in Norwood, south London, within a stone's throw of Sydenham Park and the Crystal Palace. At that time a small and fragile-looking child, Lockwood showed little academic prowess but some promise as a performer prompted Margaret Sr. to enrol her daughter in stage school.<br />
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In an age when our celebrity-fixated culture is taken to task for inspiring unrealistic notions of a fast track to fame and fortune one ought to bear in mind this is really nothing new and a theatrical career was by no means frowned upon for a young lady. <i>"Don't put your daughter on the stage Mrs Worthington," </i>Noel Coward sang in his 1933 lament of pushy mothers attempting to thrust their less-than-capable progeny into the limelight.<br />
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Ironically Lockwood, blossoming into anything but an "ugly ducking", made one of her earliest stage appearances in Coward's <i>Cavalcade</i>, a tenure cut prematurely short when she made the innocent mistake of repeating to her mother some of the playwright's fruitier backstage banter, prompting Mrs Lockwood to withdraw her from the production.<br />
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Lockwood makes light of the incident in <i>Picturegoer </i>but it's an early hint as to the troubled relationship she would have with Margaret Sr. which would eventually lead to outright hostility and a breakdown of all relations, something detailed at length in Hilton Tims' 1989 biography <i>Once a Wicked Lady</i>. Nevertheless when, at sixteen, Lockwood announced her desire to become a professional actress, it was her mother who arranged her audition with RADA.<br />
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She was accepted and made, by her own account, "rapid progress" during her two years at the Academy. Another significant development was Lockwood's signing with manager Herbert de Leon, who would become her lifelong mentor and confidante. De Leon had the honour of first introducing Lockwood to Alexander Korda... who politely declined the opportunity to recruit the young ingenue (a mistake Korda would later recount he'd also made with Marlene Dietrich).<br />
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Unperturbed, the agent arranged a screen test for her at the British International Pictures studio at Shenley Road, Elstree, where her once luxurious eyebrows were shaved off at the insistence of the cameraman, never to return. The test footage was shown to director Basil Dean who initially cast her in a small role in a production of <i>Lorna Doone</i>. As with so many star biographies fate then played its hand; when second lead Dorothy Hyson was taken ill Lockwood was promoted to the larger role.<br />
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Curious to note here that Lockwood recalls being "about twenty-two" when her lucky break took place. In fact <i>Lorna Doone</i> was made in 1934 and she was still just eighteen. It seems odd that Lockwood should have such a hazy recollection of the formative years of her career. I'm going to hazard a guess that it was an unconscious slip, because at "about twenty-two" Lockwood would make a decision that irrevocably changed her relationship with her mother...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HkIQBPJAQ8I2MKasUTN-MHvUQGGKUNAxgcbnlKYI5MnM82AcpQYGoXJpEtIzmCVJqH2ZIlaPjLlcxQfAROEdTDpcuDVxv3d-EGO1u4buk5uPIQTzHTdrr2xnLpPKKMSsDn5YrVz2o3Wt/s1600/Lockwood+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HkIQBPJAQ8I2MKasUTN-MHvUQGGKUNAxgcbnlKYI5MnM82AcpQYGoXJpEtIzmCVJqH2ZIlaPjLlcxQfAROEdTDpcuDVxv3d-EGO1u4buk5uPIQTzHTdrr2xnLpPKKMSsDn5YrVz2o3Wt/s320/Lockwood+3.png" height="312" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="float: left; font-size: 70px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 50px; margin: 5px 5px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">L</span></span><i>orna Doone</i> was followed by four years of solid if unspectacular progress in middling quota quickies such as <i>The Case of Gabriel Penny</i> and <i>Who's Your Lady Friend? </i>One important alliance she formed during this period was with a young director named Carol Reed, whom Lockwood had first encountered as the assistant director on <i>Lorna Doone</i>.<br />
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When Reed came to make his directorial debut the following year with the breezy sea adventure <i>Midshipman Easy </i>he made good on a promise to cast her. Their next film together, <i>Who's Your Lady Friend?</i> was, by all accounts, a disappointment but Reed kept faith (albeit under duress from the studio chiefs) and in 1937 cast her again in one of the sadly forgotten gems of pre-war British cinema: <i>Bank Holiday...</i><br />
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<i>Bank Holiday </i>depicts a typical long weekend in the late 1930's and an ensemble of loosely connected people, of various ages and backgrounds, who flock to the fictitious seaside resort of Bexborough (Brighton by another name). The film has a warmth and naturalism that breaks away from the creaky staginess of most British drama hitherto, yet appears presciently aware that the way of life it depicts will soon come to an end. A newspaper billboard at the beginning bears the legend "WAR CLOUDS OVER EUROPE", although at the time filming began (September 1937) it was still two years away.<br />
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Lockwood plays Catherine Lawrence, a nurse who has developed a friendship with an expectant father, Stephen Howard (John Lodge), who is left distraught when his wife dies during labour. Torn between remaining to console Stephen or meeting with her fiance Geoffrey (Hugh Williams), who has designs on spending a dirty weekend on the south coast. She goes, but as events conspire to thwart Geoffrey's intentions Catherine finds herself reassessing their relationship, rushing back to London to check on Stephen just in time to prevent him taking his own life.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdeEX2nqaWWwhfKeNtDxTQJgmljvsry2-oFEjWJP5Gug7miqdWYyiOMz7HaiAz_CtRWsnU3Oy8EFU6ydqbmJnUdt3EzNXeBfvOckE0R7H4A04nvxXHjAnSH4Eyqitu6oJDXPCDSXBzZ_K/s1600/Lockwood4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdeEX2nqaWWwhfKeNtDxTQJgmljvsry2-oFEjWJP5Gug7miqdWYyiOMz7HaiAz_CtRWsnU3Oy8EFU6ydqbmJnUdt3EzNXeBfvOckE0R7H4A04nvxXHjAnSH4Eyqitu6oJDXPCDSXBzZ_K/s320/Lockwood4.jpg" height="252" width="320" /></a>The relaxed, confident nature of her performance, compelling in her confliction, not to mention radiantly beautiful, ranks among the best of Lockwood's career. That she doesn't dwell on the film in greater length says much about the personal tumult with which it coincided.<br />
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She had known Rupert Leon (no relation to Herbert) since she was seventeen and it was during the making of <i>Bank Holiday</i> that the couple decided to marry. "It was to be a quiet wedding at a registry office, with no publicity and no photographers." Lockwood recounted (in fact it took place in Epsom, barely 200 yards from where I'm writing this).<br />
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The key detail she omits is that her mother had known nothing about it. It wasn't until the following March that a reporter who had heard rumours of a secret marriage would break the news to Margaret Sr., leading to a harrowing confrontation. Hilton Tims, who interviewed Lockwood at length in the late eighties, wrote of the incident: "It was the first time Margaret had seen her mother in tears. On and on Margaret stormed. How could she have been so ungrateful and deceitful? She had brought shame on them all." Although a peace of sorts would be established the betrayal left permanent scars.<br />
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It's hardly surprising of course that the whiff of anything scandalous was airbrushed out of Lockwood's history. That her marriage to Rupert broke down not long after the birth of their daughter Julia in 1942 is also not touched upon at all during the articles, although it would have been widely known by 1950. </div>
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Professionally the secret marriage did no harm to Lockwood's growing reputation. Shortly after she was cast in <i>The Lady Vanishes</i>, a role which consolidates the easy assurance she'd displayed in <i>Bank Holiday. </i>However, while she is complimentary of the film (and paints a fairly typical picture of Hitchcock and his attitude toward his cast) she expresses frustration being "simply a nice girl. I hadn't yet had much chance to act on screen".<br />
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Those chances - and a shot at Hollywood stardom - would soon present themselves. In fact the next two years, more so than her early successes or the glories that were to come at Gainsborough, would reveal much about Margaret Lockwood.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><i>To be continued...</i></span></div>
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Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-1834841063816756012014-01-01T11:50:00.002+01:002014-01-25T18:24:19.458+01:00Fade out - 2013 in review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Okay, so this is unfashionably late. Seasoned hacks filed their end-of-year reviews back in early December and here am I, on January 2nd, finally composing mine. Is it any wonder this blog attracts so few visitors? If you're going to be mediocre you should at least have the courtesy to evacuate your verbal effluence in a timely manner.</div>
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But enough of my long standing problems with indolence and self loathing, what of 2013? For me it was a year in which I ingested more celluloid, figuratively speaking, than ever before. 418 films in total; from <i>Sailor Suit and Machine Gun</i> though to <i>Robot and Frank </i>(the full list can be found at the foot of this post). Am I the richer for this experience? Probably not but cinema works out cheaper than a coke habit and it doesn't dissolve the septum.<br />
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In terms of summarising all this raw data I've been in something of a quandary. Should all simply reflect my favourite films I've watched this year from any era? That would be too easy. So let's begin with a rundown of my Top 25 new releases from the past twelve months...<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">25. Side Effects (2013, US, Steven Soderbergh)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">24. The Bling Ring (2013, US, Sofia Coppola)</span><br />
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Sofia Coppola’s gaudy anti-fable about fame-obsessed Californian teenagers who burgled Paris Hilton et al affects the absence of morality. Like <i>Spring Breakers </i>(and by all accounts <i>The Wolf of Wall Stree</i>t) it’s hard to tell where aestheticism ends and satire begins.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">23. Gravity (2013, US, Alfonso Cuarón)</span><br />
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Two thirds big budget art movie, one third sellout. It’s staggering how such a massive production can lack an intelligible script. Kudos to Sandra Bullock for her dedication to her craft but my preferred reading of the final twenty-five minutes are that it’s actually a dying woman’s fantasy. I half expected the character to be greeted by her dead daughter when she arrived back on terra firma. Indeed I think that would have made for a more satisfying and enigmatic ending.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">22. Leviathan (2012, US, Lucien Castaing Taylor & Verena Paravel)</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">That's "Leviathan", not "Lev-ar-thee-an" as the woman at the Phoenix Cinema in East Finchley bizarrely insisted on pronouncing it before a Q&A with the ever-so-slightly tetchy co directors one cold Saturday evening in late November. </span>Surely the strangest film of 2013 to secure mainstream distribution, <i>Leviathan</i> depicts life on board a Nantucket fishing vessel as a immersive, abstract collage of sights and sounds that might as easily derive from the bowels of hell. The disorientation of this experience, by comparison with the anthropocentric norm, is actually rather invigorating.</div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">21. McCullin (2012, UK, Jacqui & David Morris)</span></span></div>
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One of the earlier films of 2013 (by the autumn it was appearing on television) this profile of celebrated war photographer Donald McCullin is a fascinating insight into what compels a man to seek out such traumatic situations and the personal toll that comes with it.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">20. No (2012, Chile, Pablo Larrain)</span></span></div>
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The true story of the 1988 referendum that brought down the Pinochet regime in Chile is recounted in Pablo Larraín’s surprisingly light drama. Accusations that the film simplifies what took place are probably justified and perhaps the film ought to be viewed in tandem with works such as Costa-Gavras’ <i>Missing </i>or Patricio Guzman’s documentary <i>Nostalgia for the Light</i>. The aesthetic decision to shoot on 80’s videotape, to allow for less jarring integration with the historical footage, was commendable.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">19. Blackfish (2013, US, Gabriela Cowperthwaite)</span></span></div>
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A damning indictment of the practices of SeaWorld and their treatment of killer whales, Gabriela Cowperthwaite’s documentary will leave any intelligent viewer enraged that semi-sentient creatures are being kept for the purposes of human amusement. Such has the film’s impact been that Pixar felt moved amend their depiction of a marine park in the forthcoming <i>Finding Dory. </i><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">18. All is Lost (2013 US, J.C. Chandor)</span></span></div>
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I suppose this should be considered a late entry as I watched it on December 31st and possibly if it hadn’t been fresh in the memory it may not have charted. Still, I like films which strip drama to the bare essentials and J.C. Chandor’s tale of an old man and the sea is the sort of existentialist analogy that <i>Gravity</i> ought to have been. Robert Redford as the anonymous hero and solitary cast member runs the gamut of flinches and grimaces, remaining impeccably clean shaven throughout his ordeal.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">17. Le Skylab (2011, France, Julie Delpy)</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Another late entry. A large family convene to celebrate the birthday of their matriarch in Brittany in the late seventies while somewhere far above the titular stricken satellite is about to plummet back to earth. Enchantingly inconsequential and unmistakably gallic; star and director Julie Delpy has clearly learned from working with Richard Linklater that less is more.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">16. Beyond the Hills (2012, Romania, Cristian Mungiu)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixCTW-rKKopfoRFcGPZR9k8y4NzEIkpt2S2dswUCc8ebIKy6i3XzvRs8zFY6aI0na4hqo5dZ_vjDaLbqCeOZ4mOBaujCnPmL_uQyQ12g4PYx6g3L9UK2_TIuPIrzgWhWTqtepzkXU867WP/s1600/beyond_uk_poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixCTW-rKKopfoRFcGPZR9k8y4NzEIkpt2S2dswUCc8ebIKy6i3XzvRs8zFY6aI0na4hqo5dZ_vjDaLbqCeOZ4mOBaujCnPmL_uQyQ12g4PYx6g3L9UK2_TIuPIrzgWhWTqtepzkXU867WP/s320/beyond_uk_poster.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></div>
This strange Romanian film is going to require another viewing before I have the full measure of it but it slowly reeled me in. An increasingly unnerving dramatisation of a real-life exorcism case that raises questions about the nature of mental illness and the recalcitrance of religious dogma while remaining enigmatic.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">15. Before Midnight (2013, US, Richard Linklater)</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">I hadn’t watched any of the <i>Before</i> series until 2013 but probably relished this the more for seeing the previous two entries just a day previously. Nothing of any great significance really happens of course, but that’s half the point. The success of Linklater, Delpy and Hawke is that we as viewers find ourselves engaged by their dialogue, enjoying their company and caring about their relationship.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">14. A Field in England (2013, UK, Ben Wheatley)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiol26Z_y2cZi5zDO-zdE6wFq85seanwgdq_uognxY3U5NeoEn6WZcuH3a81U_kehyphenhyphenw_trouJwtB8MGPecJ6RWLleby-v5h349Gg8W9_2hV2Ev0fjf3BDMyyp_m7L8x3FwENWWoued0-IAK/s1600/MV5BMzI4MTczODQ2NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzg3Nzk3OQ@@._V1_SX640_SY720_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiol26Z_y2cZi5zDO-zdE6wFq85seanwgdq_uognxY3U5NeoEn6WZcuH3a81U_kehyphenhyphenw_trouJwtB8MGPecJ6RWLleby-v5h349Gg8W9_2hV2Ev0fjf3BDMyyp_m7L8x3FwENWWoued0-IAK/s320/MV5BMzI4MTczODQ2NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzg3Nzk3OQ@@._V1_SX640_SY720_.jpg" height="320" width="225" /></a></div>
Ben Wheatley’s English Civil War drama garnered an invidious amount of attention via its simultaneous release on both tv, dvd and in the cinemas in the summer. There’s a nagging suspicion that even Wheatley himself may not know exactly what’s going on during its trippier sequences but more than enough visceral panache, impressively delivered on a minuscule budget, to give him the benefit of the doubt.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">13. Prisoners (2013, US, Denis Villeneuve)</span></span></div>
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I’m a little disappointed this drama looks like it will be crowded out in awards season. The twisty narrative shifts from an exploration into the traumatising effects of child abduction and possible murder into a vigilante scenario, throwing up a multitude of moral quandaries. A labyrinthine mystery that keeps you guessing.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">12. The Stuart Hall Project (2013, UK, John Akomfrah)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwf4a3yxNNob3ohyphenhyphen9gMSHYYfJ21xQg3J7Xj4mRRLmDWXb1PwAeharW6_18-q0l1sp7C6oBwewLUTJoPpdMGlVBkbZphoPFv1blUCiVppaZbtTUbIeK6I6CI8ivjo8-ai_I5iSU-h1nIY98/s1600/stuart-hall-project-2013-bfi-poster-001-1000x750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwf4a3yxNNob3ohyphenhyphen9gMSHYYfJ21xQg3J7Xj4mRRLmDWXb1PwAeharW6_18-q0l1sp7C6oBwewLUTJoPpdMGlVBkbZphoPFv1blUCiVppaZbtTUbIeK6I6CI8ivjo8-ai_I5iSU-h1nIY98/s320/stuart-hall-project-2013-bfi-poster-001-1000x750.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Against a soundtrack of Miles Davis and a montage of archive footage, Britain’s foremost cultural commentator looks back on his life and career and the conflicting ideas and forces that have shaped both his notions of identity and those of postwar Britain. It might be one needs to share some of Hall’s postcolonial baggage to find this as engrossing as I did, even while battling the soporific stuffiness of the ICA’s cinema.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">11. Seduced and Abandoned (2013, US, James Toback)</span><br />
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Treading a fine line between documentary and mockumentary James Toback and Alec Baldwin’s tongue-in-cheek pursuit of financing for a reimagined take on <i>Last Tango in Paris</i> at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival probably appeals more to those with a knowlege of the machinations of the film industry than your casual cinemagoer. Soliciting the insights of the great and the good it gives a glimpse into both the glorious successes and demoralising compromises that come with bringing a concept to the big screen.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">10. Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa (2013, UK, Declan Lowney)</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Steve Coogan rightly won acclaim for his ‘straight’ performance as journalist Martin Sixsmith in <i>Philomena</i> but I suspect even he would concede that the tragi-comic Alan Partridge is the role for which he’ll remain synonymous. Indeed Partridigisms were evident in his caricature of Paul Raymond in the disappointing <i>The Look of Love</i> earlier in the year. With Armando Iannucci and Peter Baynham assisting on scripting duties this was always likely to be a solid offering an while the hostage scenario is as contrived as they come it provides the perfect platform for Coogan to indulge in mugging and pratfalls aplenty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">9. Escape Plan (2013, US, <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 37px;">Mikael Håfström)</span></span><br />
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Back in the late 80s it would have been inconceivable that Sly and Arnie’s egos could have been accommodated in the same room, little alone the same movie. But time has mellowed them, or perhaps just reduced their box office expectations. There’s nothing especially groundbreaking about this souped-up prison movie but in a way that’s part of its nuts-and-bolts old school charm. One remarkable scene in which the tortured Schwarzenegger howls anguish in his native German may just be the finest piece of acting he’s ever done. “I really enjoyed that” said one bloke as I came out of the cinema, and I couldn’t help but concur.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">8. Blue Jasmine (2013, US, Woody Allen)</span></span></div>
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It’s as if the nails are already being hammered into Woody Allen’s coffin with critics increasingly referring to his ‘late’ films whenever he has a new picture out (I imagine he’d opt for cremation anyway). Still this clever reworking of <i>A Streetcar Named Desire</i> is the equal of anything he’s directed in the last twenty years; distinguished by a career-best turn from Cate Blanchett as the bipolar Manhattan socialite forced to move in with her white trash sister after husband Alec Baldwin is jailed for embezzlement. Poignant, funny and unmistakably Woody Allen. Don’t write the old boy off just yet.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">7. Nebraska (2013, US, Alexander Payne)</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">For some reason Alexander Payne’s previous films have always managed to pass me by, much as this black and white quasi indie passed over the heads of the simple folk of Epsom (pathetically there were just two of us in the auditorium when I went to see it). Bruce Dern delivers a touching career coda as the confused old man who travels to the titular state (and his former hometown) after receiving a plainly bogus letter that he’s won a million dollars. But it’s the bittersweet bleakness of the Midwest landscape, mirroring the languid desolation of the characters living there, that lingers long after.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. I Wish [Kiseki] (2011, Japan, Hirokazu Koreeda)</span><br />
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<span class="s1">In an age when the once-great Japanese film industry churns out lamentable trash like <i>Big Tits Zombie</i> and <i>Tokyo Gore Police </i>it might be easy to assume, like Robert Redford, that all is lost. How reassuring then to discover </span><span class="s2">Hirokazu Koreeda’s</span><span class="s1"> whimsical tale about two young brothers living in different towns after their parents’ separation who hatch a scheme to meet at the point where the two new bullet trains will rush part each other in the hope the supernatural energy generated will grant them what they most desire. Yet the story is much richer than that; embracing the entire milieu in which the two boys live and the many different friends and family who populate their world. You can almost feel the mighty Ozu watching over proceedings with approval.</span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">5. The Great Beauty (2013, Italy, Paolo Sorrentino)</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Paolo Sorrentino claims to have been surprised by the success of his most recent film, but given how flagrantly he both channels the spirit of Fellini and serves up a picture-postcard vision of Rome I suspect him to be disingenuous. <i>La Grande Bellezza</i> appears to have been made with an international audience in mind and although this picaresque odyssey delivers some sublime moments when I reflected over it in the following days I started to wonder if I’d fallen for a con. Perhaps with a subsequent viewing I’ll conclude that whatever its debt to Il Maestro this really was the year’s best. And it pretty much goes without saying however that Toni Servillo is superb as the Mastroianni-esque novelist turned jaded louche.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">4. Stories We Tell (2012, Canada, Sarah Polley)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-x08DcUn82vrp52F-GvPxQYzYWvoxIve_Q5u2brtTX9Pv0lvnWnFbpj0kcINDNfSGFx98whsO2nQUViOxd9-7sF-52CY_V_wbK6gwZh9mBcWpPwbD4JDcbDEgaqOa6D3OCSPFrXywbP8/s1600/stories-we-tell-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-x08DcUn82vrp52F-GvPxQYzYWvoxIve_Q5u2brtTX9Pv0lvnWnFbpj0kcINDNfSGFx98whsO2nQUViOxd9-7sF-52CY_V_wbK6gwZh9mBcWpPwbD4JDcbDEgaqOa6D3OCSPFrXywbP8/s320/stories-we-tell-poster.jpg" height="320" width="215" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">This unabashedly self indulgent documentary recounts how director Sarah Polley learned of her true paternity and how it impacted upon her family. Unpeeling the layers of mystery about her deceased mother she draws upon the insights and recollections of all involved, intermingling both old home movie footage and scenes shot to resemble them. Far from being simply an account of how she met her biological father (who frankly struck me as a bit of a selfish prat) it becomes an affirming meditation on life itself in all its messy, beautiful complexity.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">3. Spring Breakers (2013, US, Harmony Korine)</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Seriously??? I’m not sure ‘serious’ is a word that could ever be used to describe <i>Spring Breakers </i>and writer/director Harmony Korine fools nobody with its pretensions towards being an elegy to the wanton excesses of youth. What we’re actually shown is a knowingly trashy satire that celebrates vacuity and hedonism for its own sake and leaves those of us beyond a certain age to question whether today’s kids will be in on the joke. Are there really those who consider Britney Spears one of the great poets of our times? Worryingly I suspect there may be. James Franco is in ripely hammy form as the braided, blinged-up gangsta who leads our scantily clad young heroines unto temptation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. The Place Beyond the Pines (2013, US, Derek Cianfrance)</span><br />
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<span class="s1">At the start of <i>The Place Beyond the Pines</i> there’s a long handheld tracking shot that follows Ryan Gosling through a fairground, consciously reminiscent one suspects of the start of <i>Touch of Evil</i>, that gives the first hint Derek Cianfrance’s third feature is not the straightforward, naturalistic film one might expect from the director of <i>Blue Valentine. </i>What unfolds instead is a sprawling cross- generational epic, in three distinct acts, about the sins of fathers returning upon both they and their sons. It’s audacity, evocative of the operatic styling of Leone’s <i>Once Upon a Time in America</i>, left me completely stunned even as my bladder strained with the film’s unexpected length. Cianfrance breaks the rules, and maybe it doesn’t completely satisfy, but I’d rather live in a world where filmmakers take chances than not.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">1. The Selfish Giant (2013, UK, Clio Barnard)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjMoHHgGlK04FEGYtSoziiUjr63D0DSN5oZGW1ReuTpQRTqfZXKQLKuYUcMrJ0Bt_FvSkW4PyAhbAfgPSS0rzdV_Eo4odPV-DMyALKujtOyS6p4D_LrCHA0X6pzBlX1oBVMWWAkS9TAJc/s1600/selfish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjMoHHgGlK04FEGYtSoziiUjr63D0DSN5oZGW1ReuTpQRTqfZXKQLKuYUcMrJ0Bt_FvSkW4PyAhbAfgPSS0rzdV_Eo4odPV-DMyALKujtOyS6p4D_LrCHA0X6pzBlX1oBVMWWAkS9TAJc/s320/selfish.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">Call me dense, many would, but I couldn’t quite see the connection with Oscar Wilde’s short story (it’s years since I read it). However, there’s a poetry to Clio Barnard’s social-realist fable that recalls Ken Loach at his most gut-wrenching. </span>It tells the tale of Arbor and Swifty, two teenage tearaways living on an impossibly bleak housing estate in Bradford, who skip school to earn money scavenging scrap metal to a dodgy dealer Kitten (Sean Gilder), who becomes a surrogate father of the worst kind. When Swifty, the bigger and more sensitive of the boys, shows an aptitude for racing Kitten’s pony traps in illegal races it causes a rift with Arbor’s venal sensibilities, leading to a tragic denouement and a redemptive finale that left me in tears.</div>
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<span class="s1">The performances Barnard coaxes from her two juvenile leads are a revelation. Cinema that is genuinely humane, without recourse to sentimentality, is in danger of becoming a lost art. It requires an understanding of character and environment that the commercial mainstream simply won’t invest in. Thankfully there are still a few filmmakers left willing to bear that torch.</span></div>
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418 films, in a long list....</div>
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<ol>
<li>Sailor Suit and Machine Gun (1981, Japan, Shinji Sômai)</li>
<li>Matou a Família e Foi ao Cinema [Killed the Family and Went to the Movies] (1969, Brazil, Julio Bressane)</li>
<li>A Moment of Innocence (1996, Iran, Mohsen Makmahlbaf)</li>
<li>Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (2010, UK/Thailand, Apichatpong Weerasethakul)</li>
<li>Martha Marcy May Marlene (2012, US, Sean Durkin)</li>
<li>McCullin (2012, UK, Jacqui & David Morris)</li>
<li>The Impossible (2012, Spain, Juan Antonio Bayona)</li>
<li>The Amazing Spider-Man (2012, US, Marc Webb)</li>
<li>The Eye (2002, HK/Singapore, Pang Brothers)</li>
<li>Up (2009, US, Pete Docter)</li>
<li>The Cruel Sea (1953, UK, Charles Frend)</li>
<li>Close-Up (1990, Iran, Abbas Kiarostami)</li>
<li>The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer (1970, UK, Kevin Billington)</li>
<li>Floating Weeds (1959, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>A Royal Affair (2012, Denmark/Sweden, Nikolaj Arcel)</li>
<li>Akira (1988, Japan, Katsuhiro Otomo)</li>
<li>Bonjour tristesse (1958, US, Otto Preminger)</li>
<li>Early Summer (1951, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>Django Unchained (2012, US, Quentin Tarantino)</li>
<li>A Chump at Oxford (1940, US, Alfred J Goulding)</li>
<li>High and Low (1963, Japan, Akira Kurosawa)</li>
<li>Twenty-Four Eyes (1954, Japan, Keisuke Kinoshita)</li>
<li>The Story of the Last Chrysanthemum (1938, Japan, Kenji Mizoguchi)</li>
<li>The Hurt Locker (2008, US, Kathryn Bigelow)</li>
<li>Snow White and the Huntsman (2012, US/UK, Rupert Sanders)</li>
<li>Les Miserables (2012, UK, Tom Hooper)</li>
<li>Lincoln (2012, US, Steven Spielberg)</li>
<li>Zero Dark Thirty (2012, US, Kathryn Bigelow)</li>
<li>Missing (1982, US, Costa-Gavras)</li>
<li>Welcome to Sarajevo (1997, UK, Michael Winterbottom)</li>
<li>Joy of Madness (2003, Iran, Hana Makhmalbaf)</li>
<li>Osaka Elegy (1936, Japan, Kenji Mizoguchi)</li>
<li>Green Zone (2010, UK/France/US, Paul Greengrass)</li>
<li>Bronco Bullfrog (1969, UK, Barney Platts-Mills)</li>
<li>Pressure (1975, UK, Horace Ove)</li>
<li>The Dam Busters (1955, UK, Michael Anderson)</li>
<li>Sisters of the Gion (1936, Japan, Kenji Mizoguchi)</li>
<li>Pretty in Pink (1986, US, Howard Deutch)</li>
<li>Nostalgia for the Light</li>
<li>Ted (2012, US, Seth MacFarlane)</li>
<li>The Road (2009, US, John Hillcoat)</li>
<li>Deep Blue Sea (2011, UK, Terence Davies)</li>
<li>Wisconsin Death Trip (1999, UK/US, James Marsh)</li>
<li>Dan in Real Life (2007, US, Peter Hedges)</li>
<li>Flight (2012, US, Robert Zemeckis)</li>
<li>Hitchcock (2012, US, Sacha Gervasi)</li>
<li>Skyfall (2012, UK, Sam Mendes)</li>
<li>The Infidel (2010, UK, Josh Appignanesi)</li>
<li>Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy (2004, US, Adam McKay)</li>
<li>The Hangover (2009, US, Todd Phillips)</li>
<li>Due Date (2010, US, Todd Phillips)</li>
<li>Step Brothers (2008, US, Adam McKay)</li>
<li>The Strange Hostel of Naked Pleasures (1976, Brazil, Marcelo Motta)</li>
<li>Mr Deeds Goes to Town (1936, US, Frank Capra)</li>
<li>Meet John Doe (1941, US, Frank Capra)</li>
<li>No (2012, Chile, Pablo Larrain)</li>
<li>Cloud Atlas (2012, Germany, Tom Tykwer, Andy Wachowski, Lana Wachowski)</li>
<li>Stoker (2012, US/UK, Park Wan-wook)</li>
<li>Finding Nemo (2003, US, Andrew Stanton)</li>
<li>Monsters, Inc (2001, US, Pete Docter)</li>
<li>Tabu (1931, US, FW Murnau)</li>
<li>An Autumn Afternoon (1962, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>A Hen in the Wind (1948, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>The Mirror (1975, Soviet Union, Andrei Tarkovsky)</li>
<li>Equinox Flower (1958, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>Revenge of the Zombies (1943, US, Steve Sekely)</li>
<li>Nightmare (1956, US, Maxwell Shane)</li>
<li>Howl (2010, US, Rob Epstein & Jeffrey Friedman)</li>
<li>Early Spring (1956, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>Tokyo Twilight (1957, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>There Was a Father (1942, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>Tokyo-Ga (1985, US/West Germany, Wim Wenders)</li>
<li>Oz: The Great and Powerful (2013, US, Sam Raimi)</li>
<li>Akasen Chitai [Street of Shame] (1956, Japan, Kenji Mizoguchi)</li>
<li>Made in Dagenham (2010, UK, Nigel Cole)</li>
<li>Yokihi [Yang Kwei Fei] (1955, Japan, Kenji Mizoguchi)</li>
<li>Days of Youth (1929, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>I’ve Loved You So Long (2008, France/Canada, Philippe Claudel)</li>
<li>Despicable Me (2010, US, Chris Renaud & Pierre Coffin)</li>
<li>Superbad (2007, US, Greg Mottola)</li>
<li>Chikamatsu Monogatari [The Crucified Lovers] (1954, Japan, Kenji Mizoguchi)</li>
<li>World Trade Center (2006, US, Oliver Stone)</li>
<li>The Big Red One (US, 1980, Sam Fuller)</li>
<li>Brothers and Sisters of the Toda Family (1941, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>Tokyo Story (1953, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>Side Effects (2013, US, Steven Soderbergh)</li>
<li>Welcome to the Punch (2013, UK, Eran Creevy)</li>
<li>Record of a Tenement Gentleman (1947, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>The Green Slime (1968, Japan/US, Kinji Fukasaku)</li>
<li>An Actor’s Revenge (1963, Japan, Kon Ichikawa)</li>
<li>War of the Worlds (2005, US, Steven Spielberg)</li>
<li>The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005, US, Scott Derrickson)</li>
<li>The Paperboy (2012, US, Lee Daniels)</li>
<li>Broken (2012, US, Rufus Norris)</li>
<li>Late Spring (1949, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice (1953, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li>Imitation of Life (1959, US, Douglas Sirk)</li>
<li>The Film Is Not Yet Rated (2006, US, Kirby Dick)</li>
<li>Walk Cheerfully (1930, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li> Kuroneko (1968, Japan, Kaneto Shindo)</li>
<li>Trance (2013, UK, Danny Boyle)</li>
<li>Sunshine (2007, UK, Danny Boyle)</li>
<li> Point Break (1991, US, Kathryn Bigelow)</li>
<li>Taken (2008, France, Pierre Morel)</li>
<li>The Devils (1971, UK, Ken Russell)</li>
<li> London to Brighton (2006, UK, Paul Andrew Williams)</li>
<li> Holiday (1938, US, George Cukor)</li>
<li> The End of Summer (1961, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li> Sammy and Rosie Get Laid (1987, UK, Stephen Frears)</li>
<li> Teorema [Theorem] (968, Italy, Pier Paolo Pasolini)</li>
<li>127 Hours (2010, UK/US, Danny Boyle)</li>
<li>The Place Beyond the Pines (2013, US, Derek Cianfrance)</li>
<li> The Killer Inside Me (2010, US, Michael Winterbottom)</li>
<li> A Cock and Bull Story (2005, UK, Michael Winterbottom)</li>
<li> 24 Hour Party People (2002, UK, Michael Winterbottom)</li>
<li> 9 Songs (2004, UK, Michael Winterbottom)</li>
<li>The Look of Love (2013, UK, Michael Winterbottom)</li>
<li> West End Jungle(1964, UK, Arnold L. Miller)</li>
<li> A Hijacking [Karpringen] (2012, Denmark, Tobias Lindholm)</li>
<li> Robo-Geisha (2009, Japan, Noboru Iguchi)</li>
<li> Panic in the Streets (1950, US, Elia Kazan)</li>
<li> Pumping Iron (1977, US, George Butler & Robert Flore)</li>
<li> On the Waterfront (1954, US, Elia Kazan)</li>
<li> Corman’s World (2011, US, Alex Stapleton)</li>
<li> Kill Keith (2011, UK, Andy Thompson)</li>
<li> “Hush.. Hush, Sweet Charlotte” (1964, US, Robert Aldrich)</li>
<li> Occupied Palestine (1981, US, David Koff)</li>
<li> Salo (1975, Italy, Pier Paolo Pasolini)</li>
<li> Iron Man 3 (2013, US, Shane Black)</li>
<li> Sex and Fury (1973, Japan, Noribumi Suzuki)</li>
<li> The Lady (2011, France/UK, Luc Besson)</li>
<li> The Colour of Pomegranates (1968, USSR, Sergei Parajanov) </li>
<li> Lunacy (2005, Czech Republic, Jan Svankmajer)</li>
<li> Vampyros Lesbos (1971, West Germany/Spain, Jesus Franco)</li>
<li> Star Trek: Into Darkness (2013, US, J.J. Abrams)</li>
<li> Moby Dick (2013, US, Trey Stokes)</li>
<li> Versus (2000, Japan, Ryuhei Kitamura)</li>
<li> Pink Flamingos (1972, US, John Waters)</li>
<li> The Great Gatsby (2013, US, Baz Luhrmann)</li>
<li> Sightseers (2012, UK, Ben Wheatley)</li>
<li> The Warriors (1979, US, Walter Hill)</li>
<li> The Monk (2011, France/Spain, Dominik Moll)</li>
<li> Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll (2010, UK, Mat Whitecross)</li>
<li> The Good Die Young (1954, UK, Lewis Gilbert)</li>
<li> Be Kind Rewind (2008, US, Michel Gondry)</li>
<li> Wall Street (1987, US, Oliver Stone)</li>
<li> Wall Street - Money Never Sleeps (2010, US, Oliver Stone)</li>
<li> L’Enfant Sauvage [The Whild Child] (1970, France, Francois Truffaut)</li>
<li> The Agronomist (2004, US, Jonathan Demme)</li>
<li> Gimme Shelter (1970, US, Albert & David Maysles)</li>
<li> Cries and Whispers (1972, Sweden, Ingmar Bergman)</li>
<li> Crimson Wings [Kurenai no Tsubasa] (1958, Japan, Ko Nakahira)</li>
<li> Season of the Sun [Taiyō no kisetsu] (1956, Japan, Takumi Furukawa)</li>
<li> Suzaki Paradise: Red Signal (1956, Japan, Yuzo Kawashima)</li>
<li> The Woman from the Sea (1959, Japan, Koreyoshi Kurahara)</li>
<li> Monday Girl [Getsuyoubi No Yuka] (1964, Japan, Ko Nakaira)</li>
<li> Black Tight Killers [Ore ni Sawaru to Abunaize] (1966, Japan, Yasuharu Hasebe)</li>
<li> Koyaanisqatsi (1983, US, Godfrey Reggio)</li>
<li> Headhunters (2011, Norway, Morten Tyldum) </li>
<li> The Purge (2013, US, James DeMonaco)</li>
<li> The Iceman (2013, US, Ariel Vromen)</li>
<li> Fighting Elegy [Kenka erejii] (1966, Japan, Seijun Suzuki)</li>
<li> The Man Who Caused a Storm [Arashi o Yobu Otoko] (1957, Japan, Umetsugu Inoue)</li>
<li> I Look Up When I Walk [Ue o muite arukou] (1962, Japan, Toshio Masuda)</li>
<li> Munich (2005, US, Steven Spielberg)</li>
<li> Gasland (2010, US, Josh Fox)</li>
<li> Some Girls Do (1969, UK, Ralph Thomas)</li>
<li> I Could go on Singing (1963, UK, Ronald Neame)</li>
<li> Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny and Girly (1970, Uk, Freddie Francis)</li>
<li> This, That and the Other (1970, UK, Derek Ford)</li>
<li> All the Way Up (1970, UK, James MacTaggart)</li>
<li> Behind the Candelabra (2013, US, Steven Soderbergh)</li>
<li> World War Z (2013, US, Marc Foster)</li>
<li> Underground (1928, UK, Anthony Asquith)</li>
<li> Down Terrace (2010, UK, Ben Wheatley)</li>
<li> A Field in England (2013, UK, Ben Wheatley)</li>
<li> What Became of Jack and Jill? (UK, 1972, Bill Bain)</li>
<li> Man of Steel (2013, US, Zach Snyder)</li>
<li> Fear X (2003, Denmark/UK, Nicolas Winding Refn)</li>
<li> The Blood Beast Terror (1967, UK, Vernon Sewell)</li>
<li> The Turin Horse [A torinói ló] (2011, Hungary, Béla Tarr)</li>
<li> The Bad Sleep Well [Warui yatsu hodo yoku nemuru] (1960, Japan, Akira Kurosawa)</li>
<li> Branded to Kill (1967, Japan, Seijun Suzuki)</li>
<li> Pacific Rim (2013, US, Guillermo del Toro)</li>
<li> The Bling Ring (2013, US, Sofia Coppola)</li>
<li> The Act of Killing (2012, Denmark/Norway/UK, Joshua Oppenheimer)</li>
<li> Wadjda (2012, Saudi Arabia/Germany, Haifaa al Mansour)</li>
<li> The Puffy Chair (2005, US, Jay & Marc Duplass)</li>
<li> The World’s End (2013, UK, Edgar Wright)</li>
<li> The L-Shaped Room (1962, Bryan Forbes, UK)</li>
<li> Piggy (2012, UK, Kieron Hawkes)</li>
<li> Les Enfants Terribles (1950, France, Jean-Pierre Melville)</li>
<li> Stray Dog (1949, Japan, Akira Kurosawa)</li>
<li> Wild Style (1983, US, Charlie Ahearn)</li>
<li> Carry On Camping (1969, UK, Gerald Thomas)</li>
<li> Phantom Punch (2008, US, Robert Townsend)</li>
<li> The Wolverine (2013, US, James Mangold)</li>
<li> The Hunger Games (2012, US, Gary Ross)</li>
<li> Frances Ha (2012, US, Noah Baumbach)</li>
<li> Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977, US, Steven Spielberg)</li>
<li> Rocky Balboa (2006, US, Sylvester Stallone) </li>
<li> From Up on Poppy Hill [Kokuriko-zaka Kara] (2011, Japan, Gorō Miyazaki)</li>
<li> The Conjuring (2013, US, James Wan)</li>
<li> Only God Forgives (2013, US, Nicolas Winding Refn)</li>
<li> Right at Your Door (2006, US, Chris Gorak)</li>
<li> CB4 (1993, US, Tamra Davis)</li>
<li> Lock Up Your Daughters! (1969, UK, Peter Coe)</li>
<li> Alpha Papa (2013, UK, Declan Lowney)</li>
<li> Why We Fight (2005, US, Eugene Jarecki)</li>
<li> This is Not a Film [In film nist] (2012, Iran, Jafar Panahi)</li>
<li> Super 8 (2011, US, J.J. Abrams)</li>
<li> Tiger Bay (1959, UK, J. Lee Thompson)</li>
<li> Baby Doll (1956, US, Elia Kazan)</li>
<li> Pardon Us (1931, US, James Parrott)</li>
<li> Battle of the Sexes (2013, UK/US, James Erskine)</li>
<li> Dead Creatures (2001, UK, Andrew Parkinson)</li>
<li> Drunken Angel [Yoidore tenshi] (1948, Japan, Akira Kurosawa)</li>
<li> The House I Live In (2012, US, Eugene Jarecki)</li>
<li> Ice Cold in Alex (1958, UK, J. Lee Thompson)</li>
<li> Carry On Screaming (1966, UK, Gerald Thomas)</li>
<li> The Wicked Lady (1945, UK, Leslie Arliss)</li>
<li> Pack Up Your Troubles (1932, US, George Marshall & Raymond McCarey)</li>
<li> Macbeth (1948, US, Orson Welles)</li>
<li> Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask) (1972, US, Woody Allen)</li>
<li> Inherit the Wind (1960, US, Stanley Kramer)</li>
<li> The Cocoanuts (1929, US, Robert Florey & Joseph Santley)</li>
<li> What Happened to Kerouac? (1986, US, Richard Lerner & Lewis MacAdams)</li>
<li> The Way Ahead (1944, UK, Carol Reed)</li>
<li> Carve Her Name with Pride (1958, UK, Lewis Gilbert)</li>
<li> Went the Day Well? (1942, UK, Alberto Cavalcanti)</li>
<li> Millions Like Us (1943, UK, Sidney Gilliat & Frank Launder)</li>
<li> The Wooden Horse (1950, UK, Jack Lee)</li>
<li> Elysium (2013, US, Neill Blomkamp)</li>
<li> Project Nim (2011, UK, James Marsh)</li>
<li> Blackfish (2013, US, Gabriela Cowperthwaite)</li>
<li> Sons of the Desert (1933, US, William A. Sowter)</li>
<li> Jassy (1947, UK, Bernard Knowles)</li>
<li> Upstream Color (2013, US, Shane Carruth)</li>
<li> Vidal Sassoon: The Movie (2010, US, Craig Teper)</li>
<li> We Have a Pope [Habemus Papam] (2011, Italy, Nanni Moretti)</li>
<li> Nostalghia (1983, Soviet Union/Italy, Andrei Tarkovsky)</li>
<li> Il Divo (2008, Italy, Paolo Sorrentino)</li>
<li> Tabu (2012, Portugal, Miguel Gomes)</li>
<li> Heart of the Matter (1953, UK, George More O’Ferrall)</li>
<li> You’re Next (2011, US, Adam Wingard)</li>
<li> The Family Friend [L'amico di famiglia] (2006, Italy, Paolo Sorrentino)</li>
<li> This Must Be the Place (2011, Italy, Paolo Sorrentino)</li>
<li> Rapt (2009, France, Lucas Belvaux)</li>
<li> The Great Beauty (2013, Italy, Paolo Sorrentino)</li>
<li> Give Us the Moon (1944, UK, Val Guest)</li>
<li> The Consequences of Love [Le conseguenze dell'amore] (2004, Italy, Paolo Sorrentino)</li>
<li> Third Contact (2012, UK, Simon Horrocks)</li>
<li> Rome, Open City (1945, Italy, Robert Rossellini) </li>
<li> The Stuart Hall Project (2013, UK, John Akomfrah)</li>
<li> Rush (2013, US, Ron Howard)</li>
<li> Bridge on the River Kwai (1957, US/UK, David Lean)</li>
<li> Enemy at the Gates (2001, France/Germany/Uk/Ireland/US, Jean-Jacques Annaud)</li>
<li> The Most Dangerous Man in America (2009, US, Judith Ehrlich & Rick Goldsmith)</li>
<li> A Cottage on Dartmoor (1929, UK, Anthony Asquith)</li>
<li> The Corporation (2003, Canada, Mark Achbar & Jennifer Abbott)</li>
<li> Panic in Needle Park (1971, US, Jerry Schatzberg)</li>
<li> Colossal Youth [Juventude em Marcha] (2006, Portugal, Pedro Costa)</li>
<li> Bank Holiday (1938, UK, Carol Reed)</li>
<li> The Boys (1962, UK, Sidney J. Furie)</li>
<li> Roma (1972, Italy, Federico Fellini)</li>
<li> Memento Mori (1992, UK, Jack Clayton)</li>
<li> Jack Reacher (2012, US, Christopher McQuarrie)</li>
<li> Soy Cuba [I am Cuba] (1964, Soviet Union/Cuba, Mikhail Kalatozov)</li>
<li> HIghly Dangerous (1950, UK, Roy Ward Baker)</li>
<li> Kes (1969, UK, Ken Loach)</li>
<li> Quartet (2012, UK, Dustin Hoffman)</li>
<li> Olympus Has Fallen (2013, US, Antoine Fuqua)</li>
<li> The Fallen Idol (1948, UK, Carol Reed)</li>
<li> The Man in Grey (1943, UK, Leslie Arliss)</li>
<li> A Quiet Place in the Country [Un tranquillo posto di campagna] (1968, Italy, Elio Petri)</li>
<li> Horrors of Malformed Men Edogawa Rampo Zenshū: Kyoufu Kikei Ningen] (1969, Japan, Teruo Ishii)</li>
<li> Kairo [Pulse]; (2001, Japan, Kiyoshi Kurosawa)</li>
<li> Boy [Shōnen] (1969, Japan, Nagisa Oshima)</li>
<li> Harakiri [Seppuku] (1964, Japan, Masaki Kobayashi)</li>
<li> Graveyard of Honor [Jingi no hakaba] (1975, Japan, Kinji Fukusaku)</li>
<li> God Told Me To (1976, US, Larry Cohen)</li>
<li> Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural (1973, US, Richard Blackburn)</li>
<li> Escape! (1930, UK, Basil Dean)</li>
<li> Hungry Hill (1947, UK, Brian Desmond Hurst)</li>
<li> Love Story (1944, UK, Leslie Arliss)</li>
<li> Cardboard Cavalier (1949, UK, Walter Forde)</li>
<li> A Place of One’s Own (1945, UK, Bernad Knowles)</li>
<li> The Stars Look Down (1940, UK, Carol Reed)</li>
<li> Bedelia (1946, UK, Lance Comfort)</li>
<li> Cast a Dark Shadow (1955, UK, Lewis Gilbert)</li>
<li> Penny Paradise (1938, UK, Carol Reed)</li>
<li> Undefeated (2011, US, Daniel Lindsay/T.J. Martin)</li>
<li> Crumb (1994, US, Terry Zwigoff)</li>
<li> The Hunt (2012, Denmark, Thomas Vinterberg)</li>
<li> What Richard Did (2012, Ireland, Lenny Abrahamson)</li>
<li> I, Anna (2012, UK/Germany/France, Barnaby Southcombe)</li>
<li> Halloween II (1981, US, Rick Rosenthal)</li>
<li> Chaser (2008, South Korea, Na Hong-jin)</li>
<li> Baise-Moi (2000, France, Virginie Despentes/Coralie Trinh Thi)</li>
<li> Gaslight (1940, UK, Thorold Dickinson)</li>
<li> Prisoners (2013, US, Denis Villeneuve)</li>
<li> Sunshine on Leith (2013, UK, Dexter Fletcher)</li>
<li> Filth (2013, UK, John S. Baird)</li>
<li> Ran (1985, Japan/France, Akira Kurosawa)</li>
<li> Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011, US, Michael Bay)</li>
<li> Jánošík (1921, Slovakia, Jaroslav Jerry Siakeľ)</li>
<li> Vigilante (1982, US, William Lustig)</li>
<li> Trumbo (2007, US, Peter Askin)</li>
<li> The Yellow Sea (2010, South Korea, Na Hong-jin)</li>
<li> The Fifth Estate (2013, US, Bill Condon)</li>
<li> Blue Jasmine (2013, US, Woody Allen)</li>
<li> Captain Phillips (2013, US, Paul Greengrass) </li>
</ol>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<li> The Psychopath (1966, UK, Freddie Francis)</li>
<li> The Skull (1965, Freddie Francis, Freddie Francis)</li>
<li> The House at the End of the Street (2012, US, Mark Tonderai)</li>
<li> Escape Plan (2013, US,Mikael Håfström>)</li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Bobby Fischer Against the World (2011, US, Liz Garbus)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Child’s Play (1988, US, Tom Holland)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Hard Candy (2005, US, David Slade) </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"> The Selfish Giant (2013, UK, Clio Barnard)</span> </li>
<li> Like Someone in Love (2012, France/Jaan, Abbas Kiarostami)</li>
<li> The Intruder (1962, US, Roger Corman)</li>
<li> People on Sunday [Menschen am Sonntag] (1930, Germany, Robert Siodmak)</li>
<li> The Reconstruction (1970, Greece, Theo Angelopoulos</li>
<li> The Passion of Joan of Arc [La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc] (1928, France, Carl Theodor Dreyer) </li>
<li> Man with a Movie Camera [Chelovek s kinoapparatom](1929, Soviet Union, Dziga Vertov)</li>
<li> The Hunter (2011, Australia, Daniel Nettheim)</li>
<li> Identity (2003, US, James Mangold)</li>
<li> Kuhle Wampe (1932, Germany, Slatan Dudow)</li>
<li> The Crimson Rivers (2000, France, Mathieu Kassovitz)</li>
<li> Shame (2011, UK, Steve McQueen)</li>
<li> The Phantom Carriage (1921, Sweden, Victor Sjöström)</li>
<li> Texas Chainsaw 3D (2013, US, John Luessenhop)</li>
<li> On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969, UK, Peter R. Hunt)</li>
<li> The Devil’s Rejects (2005, US, Rob Zombie)</li>
<li> Before Sunrise (1995, US, Richard Linklater)</li>
<li> Before Sunset (2004, US, Richard Linklater)</li>
<li> Au Hasard Balthazar (1966, France, Robert Bresson)</li>
<li> Fanny and Alexander (1982, Sweden, Ingmar Bergman)</li>
<li> Le Week-End (2013, UK, Roger Michell)</li>
<li> Bande a Part (1964, France, Jean-Luc Godard)</li>
<li> Before Midnight (2013, US, Richard Linklater)</li>
<li> Thor: The Dark World (2013, US, Alan Taylor)</li>
<li> Philomena (2013, UK/US/France, Stephen Frears)</li>
<li> Dead Presidents (1995, US, Allen Hughes/Albert Hughes)</li>
<li> Footprints on the Moon [La orme] (1975, Italy, Mario Fanelli)</li>
<li> Born & Bred [Nacido y criado] (2006, Argentina, Pablo Trapero)</li>
<li> A Liar's Autobiography: The Untrue Story of Monty Python's Graham Chapman (2012, UK, Bill Jones/Jeff Simpson/Ben Timlett)</li>
<li> Seduced and Abandoned (2013, US, James Toback)</li>
<li> Bullhead (2011, Belgium, Michaël R. Roskam)</li>
<li> The Wind that Shakes the Barley (2006, Ireland/UK/Germany/Italy/Spain/France/Belgium/Switzerland, Ken Loach)</li>
<li> Gravity (2013, US, Alfonso Cuarón)</li>
<li> Godzilla [Gojira] (1954, Japan, Ishiro Honda)</li>
<li> Fear Eats the Soul [Angst essen Seele auf] (1974, West Germany, Rainer Werner Fassbinder)</li>
<li> Katalin Varga (2009, Romania/UK, Peter Strickland)</li>
<li> Wuthering Heights (2011, UK, Andrea Arnold)</li>
<li> The Butler (2013, US, Lee Daniels)</li>
<li> In Fear (2013, UK, Jeremy Lovering)</li>
<li> Blue is the Warmest Colour (2013, France/Belgium/Spain, Abdellatif Kechiche) </li>
<li> The Face at the Window (1939, UK, George King)</li>
<li> The Lodger (1944, US, John Brahm)</li>
<li> Leviathan (2012, US, Lucien Castaing Taylor/Verena Paravel)</li>
<li> Sweetgrass (2009, US, Lucien Castaing Taylor)</li>
<li> The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013, US, Francis Lawrence)</li>
<li> Singin’ in the Rain (1952, US, Stanley Donen/Gene Kelly)</li>
<li> Three Colours Blue (1993, France/Poland/Switzerland, Krzystof Kieslowski)</li>
<li> Three Colours White (1994, France/Poland/Switzerland, Krzystof Kieslowski)</li>
<li> Three Colours Red (1994, France/Poland/Switzerland, Krzystof Kieslowski)</li>
<li> Lola (1961, France, Jacques Demy)</li>
<li> Les Demoiselles de Rochefort (1967, France, Jacques Demy)</li>
<li> Metropolis (2001, Japan, Rintaro)</li>
<li> Tokyo Gore Police (2008, Japan, Yoshihiro Nishimura)</li>
<li> Spring Breakers (2013, US, Harmony Korine)</li>
<li> Saving Mr Banks (2013, US, John Lee Hancock)</li>
<li> Involuntary (2008, Sweden, Ruben Östland</li>
<li> A Woman Under the Influence (1974, US, John Cassavetes) </li>
<li> Kill Your Darlings (2013, US, John Krokidas)</li>
<li> Blood On Satan’s Claw (1971, UK, Piers Haggard)</li>
<li> Dead of Night (1945, UK, Alberto Cavalcanti/Robert Hamer/Charles Crichton/Basil Dearden)</li>
<li> Nebraska (2013, US, Alexander Payne)</li>
<li> Semi-Pro (2008 US, Kent Alterman)</li>
<li> Haxan (1922, Sweden/Denmark, Benjamin Christensen)</li>
<li> Mud (2012, US, Jeff Nichols)</li>
<li> Winter’s Bone (2010, US, Debra Granik)</li>
<li> Beyond the Hills (2012, Romania, Cristian Mungiu)</li>
<li> Elf (2003, US, Jon Favreau)</li>
<li> I Wish [Kiseki] (2011, Japan, Hirokazu Koreeda)</li>
<li> Anchorman 2 (2013, US, Adam McKay)</li>
<li> Seven Murders for Scotland Yard (1971, Italy/Spain, José Luis Madrid)</li>
<li> Stories We Tell (2012, Canada, Sarah Polley)</li>
<li> Ink (2009, US, Jamin Winans)</li>
<li> The History Boys (2006, UK, Nicholas Hynter)</li>
<li> Throne of Blood (1957, Japan, Akira Kurosawa)</li>
<li> Oblivion (2013, US, Joseph Kosinski)</li>
<li> The Only Son (1936, Japan, Yasujiro Ozu)</li>
<li> God Speed You! Black Emperor (1976, Japan, Mitsuo Yanagimachi)</li>
<li> The H Man [Bijo to Ekitainingen] (1958, Japan, Eijii Tsuburaya & Ishiro Honda)</li>
<li> No Regrets for Our Youth (1946, Japan, Akira Kurosawa)</li>
<li> Giants and Toys [Kyojin to gangu] (1958, Japan, Yasuzo Masumura)</li>
<li> The Human Condition I: No Greater Love (1959, Japan, Masaki Kobayashi)</li>
<li> The Human Condition II: Road to Eternity (1959, Japan, Masaki Kobayashi)</li>
<li> The Human Condition III: A Soldier’s Prayer (1961, Japan, Masaki Kobayashi)</li>
<li> Lady Snowblood [Shurayukihime] (1973, Japan, Toshiya Fujita)</li>
<li> The Black Camel (1931, US, Hamilton MacFadden)</li>
<li> Alone Across the Pacific [Taiheiyo hitori-botchi] (1963, Japan, Kon Ichikawa)</li>
<li> Gate of Hell [Jigokumon] (1953, Japan, Teinosuke Kinugasa)</li>
<li> Tokyo Olympiad [Tōkyō Orinpikku] (1965, Japan, Kon Ichikawa)</li>
<li> 47 Ronin [Shijūshichinin no shikaku] (1994, Japan, Kon Ichikawa)</li>
<li> Whisky Galore! (1949, UK, Alexander Mackendrick)</li>
<li> Rogue (2007, Australia, Greg McLean)</li>
<li> Sexton Blake and the Hooded Terror (1938, UK, George King)</li>
<li> The Living Skeleton [Kyuketsu Dokurosen] (1968, Japan, Hiroshi Matsuno)</li>
<li> The Blind Woman’s Curse [Kaidan Nobori Ryū] (1970, Japan, Teruo Ishii)</li>
<li> Silence [Chinmoku] (1971, Japan, Masahiro Shinoda)</li>
<li> Le Skylab (2011, France, Julie Delpy)</li>
<li> All is Lost (2013 US, J.C. Chandor)</li>
<li> Bullet Ballet (1998, Japan, Shinya Tsukamoto)</li>
<li> Robot & Frank (2012, US, Jake Schreier)</li>
<br />
<div>
</div>
</div>
Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-40141548687888625982013-11-24T17:07:00.000+01:002013-11-30T22:18:27.441+01:00In Fear (UK, 2013); Dir. Jeremy Lovering<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EMWm1r1kRaQJAfOeKYHOrRWc4PDz6PlZ3I34IxE-DCdOBIQKGSypK4NgJsvSjhyphenhyphenSCbk0DiXrYljgSI493J7LxdI1y9b-T2YA7ZtC5O5oS9ZZqlVs4HKzLrV2J61F1QS4MSR7VlZ4I1Jz/s1600/In-Fear-Movie-Poster-Jeremy-Lovering.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EMWm1r1kRaQJAfOeKYHOrRWc4PDz6PlZ3I34IxE-DCdOBIQKGSypK4NgJsvSjhyphenhyphenSCbk0DiXrYljgSI493J7LxdI1y9b-T2YA7ZtC5O5oS9ZZqlVs4HKzLrV2J61F1QS4MSR7VlZ4I1Jz/s320/In-Fear-Movie-Poster-Jeremy-Lovering.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
Horror, perhaps more than any other, is a genre of simple pleasures. The same tried and tested formulas can be repurposed <i>ad infinitum</i> with a reasonable chance of decent renumeration, even in cases where a franchise should have long since succumbed to the law of diminishing returns.<br />
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For the discerning fan of horror cinema the devil is in the detail; how skilfully does a film plunder those too-familiar old tropes and, if not give the appearance of being fresh, at least demonstrate enough command of the material that the viewer doesn't think about it too much?<br />
<br />
So to point out the influences on Jeremy Lovering's debut feature film would both spoil the plot and be somewhat glib, because there's no question that <i>In Fear</i> is as smartly directed piece of work that deserves an audience.<br />
<br />
Tom (Iain De Castecker) and Lucy (Alice Englert), a young couple only a fortnight into their relationship, travel to rural Ireland for a music festival. En route to a nearby hotel they stop at a pub where Tom gets involved in a fracas with the locals although, crucially, the scenes takes place off camera and is reported to Lucy in the car after.<br />
<br />
The hotel itself, supposedly situated somewhere amidst the remote woodland, proves impossible to find despite signs apparently pointing the way. As the pair find themselves driving in circles on the narrow roads and darkness descends frustration gives way to despair. Then the question arises of whether something, or someone, is watching them.<br />
<br />
It's the claustrophobic weirdness of this first fifty minutes or so that really sets the film apart from similar fare. Like a video game where the player is uncertain how to proceed the narrative enters a torturous limbo with no obvious end in sight. Lovering deploys close-up camera angles - of the sort that have only really become possible in the past decade or so with digital cameras - to draw us intimately into the couple's predicament. Doubts begin to surface about how well they really know each other and what really transpired back at the pub. We're not even certain whether the cause of their confusion is human or supernatural; the car's satnav mysteriously unable to pinpoint their location.<br />
<br />
When the third act changes the dynamic the effect ultimately proves a little disappointing. Classical aesthetics might have deemed an explanation was necessary but with that comes a dissipation of what made this film so compelling. Don't let that detract you from watching for yourself; <i>In Fear</i> is still comfortably the best British horror film since <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kill_List" target="_blank">Kill List</a></i>.</div>
Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-64826242823309744992013-06-17T02:32:00.000+02:002017-04-06T16:57:09.689+02:00In Search of Vanessa Howard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">About eight years ago I picked up a copy of a film called ‘MUMSY, NANNY, SONNY AND GIRLY’ (1970), a curious horror comedy about a dysfunctional family with a penchant for macabre games. Although she didn’t receive top billing it was the pretty, vivacious young actress playing the eponymous Girly who really made the piece. Her name was Vanessa Howard and she had the aura of a star.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_T8nj0jo9Vb-ZDi9DeExNGS5RDr3-ZXOXYVJcr8v8D_Zwl8_RkZVPNOIz6r4rX4xikz1Du0NmVMItPMSeYD7LUUgPYTBAbEG9xqz7N6wFdg0YnKhWZnNrRHDSZDMUxiO0ks2czJcKrm5D/s1600/Vanessa+Howard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_T8nj0jo9Vb-ZDi9DeExNGS5RDr3-ZXOXYVJcr8v8D_Zwl8_RkZVPNOIz6r4rX4xikz1Du0NmVMItPMSeYD7LUUgPYTBAbEG9xqz7N6wFdg0YnKhWZnNrRHDSZDMUxiO0ks2czJcKrm5D/s1600/Vanessa+Howard.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Howard was born in Shoreham-by-Sea, Sussex, on 10th October 1948. Originally named <a href="https://plus.google.com/photos/110613034991148336202/albums/5913909668097207393/5913909671109663410?banner=pwa&pid=5913909671109663410&oid=110613034991148336202" target="_blank">Vanessa Tolhurst</a> she was orphaned by the age of three and she and her older sister were raised by <a href="https://plus.google.com/photos/110613034991148336202/albums/5913909668097207393/5913909827639703890?banner=pwa&pid=5913909827639703890&oid=110613034991148336202" target="_blank">adoptive parents</a>. Both girls were <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pba7cLdkiAY">keen performers</a> and for a time Vanessa attended the Phildene Stage School in London. According to later press sources this led her screen debut in Judy Garland's last picture, I COULD GO ON SINGING (1963), although I've never been able to conclusively identify her in the released version.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.98611068725586px;">Leaving school at fifteen she declined the opportunity to join her sister at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in favour of practical experience. Her first professional job was as a dancer and singer for Clarkson Roses's Twinkle company for a summer season of a revue-style show at the seaside resort of Llandudno. Later engagements included a brief spell with the Players' Theatre, performing in their well-renowned Old Time Music Hall, and a one-year tenure as a singer and dancer with the George Mitchell Singers </span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.98611068725586px;">(Mitchell is perhaps most infamous now as the creator of The Black and White Minstrel Show)</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.98611068725586px;">, which in turn led to some early tv appearances. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.98611068725586px;">H</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.98611068725586px;">er breakthrough came in 1966 and the West End musical 'On the Level'. Although not a huge critical or commercial success the ambitious production, written by Ronald Millar with music by Ron Grainer, drew considerable attention and though Howard's was only a small role it led to further opportunities. A few months later she was appearing opposite David Tomlinson in a play called The Impossible Years.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">On Christmas Day 1967 Howard co-starred with Cliff Richard in a musical version of Aladdin on British television; it was the first of around a dozen major screen performances that she made over the next six years. Most of these were in relatively obscure films; creaky horrors such as ‘THE BLOOD BEAST TERROR’ (1968) alongside Peter Cushing, or as Peter Cook’s wife in the political satire ‘THE RISE AND RISE OF MICHAEL RIMMER’ (1970). Some of these have since acquired cult status, others which one could argue justly remain forgotten.<br /><br />So what is it about Vanessa Howard in particular that distinguishes her from the abundance of pretty young actresses who were trying to make a living in the floundering British film scene of the late 60‘s and early 70’s? Perhaps because there’s an archness to her best performances; a subversive mischief that draws attention to itself. Unlike some of her contemporaries with similarly ephemeral careers Howard doesn’t seem content to simply gaze, pout and draw attention to her charms. Watch her in the two black comedies that could be considered her two signature parts - the aforesaid ‘... GIRLY’ and ‘WHAT BECAME OF JACK AND JILL?’ (1972) - and there’s an awareness that it’s all just a game. A bit like the young Malcolm McDowell during the same period, Howard walks the fine line between stylised acting and hammy excess.<br /><br />Sadly however Howard didn’t enjoy enormous popular and critical acclaim, nor the patronage of high-profile directors. Some of this can be attributed to plain bad luck; as the British film industry nosedived several of her more noteworthy films received little to no distribution. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">She'd met Hollywood producer Robert Chartoff around 1968, while he was based in London working on director John Boorman's LEO THE LAST<i> </i>(Vanessa makes the briefest of cameos in that film). Romance blossomed, and a beguiled Chartoff left with his first wife, Phyllis Raphael, to be with her (Raphael later recounted the experience of being stranded in a strange town in a memoir: <i>Off the King's Road</i>). </span></span><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #333333; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Given the professional frustrations Vanessa had experienced perhaps it’s understandable that by 1973 she decided to cut her losses and relocate to domesticity in the US. Understandable but also sad, because there are enough glimpses in her handful of roles to suggest she still had so much more to offer.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />The last footage I’ve seen of Vanessa Chartoff, as she now was, is at the 49th Academy Awards in 1977, where <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUrSr6Ga6i0" target="_blank">she can briefly be glimpsed celebrating with her husband as he (and Irwin Winkler) won the Best Picture Oscar for 'ROCKY'</a>. In later years, following her separation from Chartoff in the early eighties, Vanessa focused her energies into raising her son Charley and also became involved in programs to help divorced homemakers back into the workplace.<br /><br />I’d always hoped, given the minor cult status of her films, that a latter-day interview with Vanessa might surface someday but must confess to not giving it much further thought. That was until last year when re-watching her early role as the quirky Audrey in the coming-of-age comedy 'HERE WE GO ROUND THE MULBERRY BUSH' I happened to search her name on Google and learnt that she’d died in 2010, aged just 62, due (I later discovered) to complications resulting from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD).<br /><br />Hearing of any death can be a sobering experience but what really struck me in the days and months that followed was that Vanessa Howard, or Vanessa Chartoff, or however you wish to define her, remained such an enigma to me. I’d love to write a proper tribute to a woman whose acting work I felt merited greater consideration than it’s previously received, but it’s impossible to get the full measure with so little to go by.<br /><br />If you knew Vanessa Howard, either here in the UK in the earlier part of her life, or later after she settled in California, I’m very keen to hear your recollections if you’re willing to share. Please get in touch on <a href="mailto:richardhalfhide@gmail.com">richardhalfhide at gmail.com</a> or visit the Facebook page at the link below.</span></span><br />
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Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-89844656768190805412013-04-22T00:56:00.000+02:002013-05-14T10:25:04.832+02:00A Hijacking [Kapringen] (Denmark, 2012); Dir. Tobias Lindholm)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">Commercial shipping is for most people an unknown behemoth, out of sight and out of mind, despite its intrinsic role in global trade. It’s due in no small part to the maritime industry’s exceptionally high safety standards; as with aviation major incidents are relatively few and far between. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">For another industry, one geared towards more vicarious pleasures, such benign subject matter usually doesn’t hold much appeal.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div>
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<span class="s1">That was until 2009 when an American ship, the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maersk_Alabama">Maersk Alabama</a></i>, was hijacked off the coast of Somalia, bringing the issue of modern-day piracy into public consciousness. The story of that incident is due to be recounted in Paul Greengrass’s forthcoming <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captain_Phillips">Captain Phillips</a> </i>later this year, with Tom Hanks in the eponymous role. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-kAL2ol5gBNxpvv9P8IGdtTWgGtNEkc1ZjpaTbCBhnES3tVwNnAYXLavZsMD8wsx9q3uefZcmoM2Yjf8CzKp4Fc39fWlOEr1NyfXXKKsIo_qIbBZNOWLuFxjluPdIBUlqrEJ91dup0Ot/s1600/Hijacking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-kAL2ol5gBNxpvv9P8IGdtTWgGtNEkc1ZjpaTbCBhnES3tVwNnAYXLavZsMD8wsx9q3uefZcmoM2Yjf8CzKp4Fc39fWlOEr1NyfXXKKsIo_qIbBZNOWLuFxjluPdIBUlqrEJ91dup0Ot/s320/Hijacking.jpg" height="320" width="215" /></a><span class="s1">Before that there's Tobias Lindholm’s <i>A Hijacking</i>, a modest yet thoughtful Danish production </span>which largely eschews action for a claustrophobic psychological drama. If you’re drawn into imagining scenes of trapped, desperate men uncertain of their fates who slowly forge bonds with their captors that’s really only half the story.</div>
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<span class="s1">Mikkel (Pilou Asbæk), is a young cook onboard the MV <i>Rozen</i>, a Danish merchant ship in the Indian Ocean, looking forward - with predictable and caustic irony - to being reunited with his family at the end of the voyage. </span>One can reasonably infer from the outset that Mikkel, a simple unheroic man, is not going to turn out to be an undercover special forces op like Steven Seagal’s character in <i>Under Siege</i>. It's not that kind of movie. In the space of a few brief scenes Lindholm deftly applies his verite style to conveying the cramped, mundane yet tranquil life on the vessel.</div>
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<span class="s1">Switching to the plush headquarters of the Danish shipping company that owns the vessel, we’re introduced to its ice cool CEO Peter C. Ludvigsen (Søren Malling, like </span>Asbæk he'll be familiar to some from tv drama <i>Borgen</i>). It's apparent from Ludvigsen's hard line during negotiations with Japanese business partners that he's a man used to being in control, so the sudden news of the <i>Rozen's</i> seizure by pirate presents him with a new and formidable challenge.</div>
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The decision to omit the crucial scenes of the ship's assault and capture, a result one suspects as much from financial necessity, is likely to leave some viewers feeling cheated but it’s just the first of many ellipses. When focus shifts back to the vessel the Somalis have firmly established control, locking up Mikkel and some other members of the crew; leaving the fate of others a long-unresolved mystery. We’re introduced to Omar, an English speaking Somalian himself kidnapped (or so he claims) for the purpose of acting as translator and negotiator.</div>
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<span class="s1">One striking facet to the drama is just how measured and businesslike is the response of Ludvigsen and his company to the situation back in Denmark. It’s testament to the film’s adherence to verisimilitude that there’s no “we don’t negotiate with terrorists” hyperbole here, or even any great sense of urgency. Rather it’s a case of driving down the pirates’ demands to what constitutes acceptable losses to the business, be it human or financial. Thus begins a series of satellite phone conversations between Ludvigsen and Omar, curious in both their brevity and stilted civility.</span></div>
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Tension builds slowly over days, and eventually months, that follow, with Mikkel’s trauma mirrored by Ludvigsen, in his way every bit as much a prisoner. When a solution comes it’s with a bitter coda that only serves to remind how high the stakes are in such situations.</div>
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Although a fictional tale Lindholm's commitment to realism ensures a far more credible hostage drama than most. The <i>Rozen</i>, hired specifically for filming, had itself been the subject of a hijacking in 2007, while some of the sailors employed to play the crew had experience of hijacking in a separate incident. Elsewhere one of the key onshore roles was played by non-actor <span class="given-name" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Gary</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: 19px;"> </span><span class="family-name" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Skjoldmose-Porter, a security expert with Clipper Group who seamlessly interacts with the professional players.</span></div>
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Yet the starkness of Lindholm's approach is both refreshing and unsettling. We are caught in the No Man's Land between two paradigms: the human and the corporate. The deeper social repercussions concerning corporate responsibility and the underlying causes of Somali piracy aren't explored, which is both frustrating and strangely admirable. Perhaps that's also an uncomfortable truth about our utilitarian age.</div>
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Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-59265955554994768002013-02-24T09:14:00.000+01:002013-02-24T09:22:06.436+01:00The White Sheik [Lo sceicco bianco] (Italy, 1952); Dir. Federico Fellini<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Had it been made later in his career one surmises that Fellini's <i>The White Sheik</i> might have more closely resembled the picture it partially inspired: Woody Allen's <i>Purple Rose of Cairo </i>(1984). Both films share a common theme of an unassuming woman being fleetingly transported into a fantasy world of romance and adventure before an inevitable withdrawal back to reality.<br />
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As it is this is a fairly restrained directorial debut from the Maestro, albeit with plenty of hints of what was to come. The story centres around newlywed couple Wanda (Brunella Bovo) and Ivan Cavalli (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leopoldo_Trieste" title="Leopoldo Trieste">Leopoldo Trieste</a>), who have arrived at a hotel in Rome for their honeymoon. Whilst the punctilious, petit-bourgois Ivan enthuses about their packed itinerary and meeting with his relatives, Wanda is more concerned with the opportunity to meet try and the star of her favourite <i>Arabian Nights</i>-inspired fumetti* - the eponymous 'White Sheik' - and promptly absconds in pursuit of her idol.<br />
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No sooner has Wanda arrived at the serial's production office and explained her desire to meet the Sheik (she's even drawn a picture of him) than she's whisked off to take part in filming his next adventure. Meanwhile a frantic Ivan attempts to discover what's become of his wife whilst trying to conceal the facts from his relatives, who are are anxious to meet her. The problem is exacerbated by the fact that Ivan's uncle has arranged for them to meet the Pope and have their marriage blessed the following day.<br />
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Taken to a beach where scenes for the photo-story are being shot, Wanda is introduced to the whirling, carnivalesque world of a production, where fantasy and reality grow increasingly blurred; it's unmistakably Fellini territory, if not yet with the polish of <i>Otto e Mezzo</i>. But her enchantment with the Sheik becomes all the more baffling when we finally meet him. Portrayed by Alberto Sordi , who would go on to become Italy's most popular comedy actor, he's not so much a second rate Rudy Valentino as bargain basement; his podgy features being a far cry from most people's idea of a romantic hero. And yet the Sheik appears beguiled by Wanda and - as she falls deeper into the illusion's seduction - the pair set off to sea together in a tiny sail boat, much to the dismay of the crew.<br />
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Disillusion arrives abruptly when they return to shore and Wanda is 'introduced' to the Sheik's battleaxe of a wife; it transpires he's more serial philanderer than serial hero and his other half is less than enamored with the young hussy who's caught his eye. As the production wraps and the crew head off a distraught Wanda is left to make her own way home.<br />
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In Allen's film - set against a backdrop of Depression-era America - the effect is tragicomic; Mia Farrow's character Cecilia, broken and disappointed, retreats back into the illusion of the cinema to avoid an uncertain future. By contrast Fellini's contemporary film was made during the dawning of the Italian economic miracle; Ivan's relatives are keen to show him all the sights of the renaissant capital and optimism is a striking contrast to that of the Neorealist movement which was already drawing towards a close. Superficially at least the conclusion is an optimistic one, with the reunited Wanda, Ivan and his relatives heading to the Vatican for their meeting with the Pope.<br />
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Yet haven't Ivan's frantic attempts to keep up appearances and make the engagement only papered over the cracks? Like Dustin Hoffman and Katherine Ross at the end of <i>The Graduate</i> there's a caustic irony in their closing glances that suggests the future of the relationship is less than rosy.<br />
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*<i>'Fumetti', is the Italian term for comics; it literally means "little puffs of smoke" after the speech balloons commonly used. Whilst traditional illustrated comics found a readership amongst children, the late forties saw the emergence of magazines featuring which used sequences of still photographs instead. These 'photoromanzi', which typically told epic love stories and were roughly analogous with soap operas, were hugely popular with Italian women right through to the eighties.</i></div>
Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-33052998981622170502013-02-24T02:21:00.000+01:002013-02-24T09:23:16.222+01:00Mr Deeds Goes to Town (US, 1936, Dir. Frank Capra)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Most people with a passing awareness of film history will have at least heard of Frank Capra, but perhaps not all will appreciate just what an exalted status the director had in 1930's Hollywood. Before the likes of Welles, Hitchcock or Sturges had truly emerged, and long before film writers began scrutinising the output of Howard Hawks and John Ford, Capra enjoyed a standing unseen since the heyday of DW Griffith.</div>
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This was due in no small part to the enormous success of his seminal screwball comedy <i>It Happened One Night</i>, the top grossing film of 1934 and the first to ever pick up all five major Oscars. It swelled Capra's pockets and his ego, allowing him unprecedented leverage with his studio Columbia (hereafter his name would appear above the title), but with the expectation he could deliver more of the same.</div>
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For their follow-up Capra and his regular collaborator Robert Riskin eventually settled on a serialised story called <i>Opera Hat, </i>by the prolific author <span style="line-height: 1.2em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Clarence Budington Kelland. Given that Budington, who would later dabble in politics, was an ardent conservative and critic of Roosevelt's New Deal it's ironic that Riskin's script would espouse an economic policy that draws obvious parallels with that of FDR. But by all accounts the writer only took the bare bones of the original premise: that of a simple country man (Gary Cooper) who suddenly finds himself the reluctant inheritor of his late uncle's $20m fortune.</span></span></div>
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Naturally not everyone is best pleased that this yokel has his hands on unfathomable riches, particularly when it becomes apparent to his legal advisors that he may not be the malleable puppet they'd hoped for and begins making rather radical plans to redistribute his wealth amongst the poor. He also draws the attention of a savvy reporter (Jean Arthur) who makes a play for his affections in ruthless pursuit of an exclusive only to fall under the spell of his bashful whimsy.<br />
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It seems that Cooper was Capra's first and only choice for the eponymous Longfellow Deeds and it's hard to imagine any leading man, even James Stewart, who could have embodied the hero's gauche, straight-talking decency to such captivating effect. Cooper's unique quality was an ability to turn his limitations as an actor into an asset; his physical stature and chiselled looks may be imposing but his brittleness translates into fragility. To see his moral convictions shattered by a manipulative, cynical world is a painful experience.<br />
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Events culminate in a court hearing in which Deeds, whose sanity has been called into question by his former lawyers and another claimant to his uncle's estate, must prove he's compos mentis and regain his faith in humanity. It's a rousing if contrived finale.<br />
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In his commentary track for the dvd reissue of the film Frank Capra Jr suggests his father felt compelled to raise questions about his own success, and the egregious excess of Hollywood in general, in a period when regular working Americans were undergoing great hardship. One could observe there were probably more constructive ways of addressing this than making it the subtext of a film. What's more even if we were to take it as a rallying cry for social reform it leaves unanswered questions; we never see the final result of Deeds' radical ideas and by the conclusion he might be perceived as dangerously akin to a demagogue.<br />
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Capra would return to these themes in the other films in this triptych, <i>Mr Smith Goes to Washington </i>(1939) and perhaps most provocatively <i>Meet John Doe </i>(1941)<i>. </i>In the latter film, in which Cooper again becomes the unwitting champion of the common man, the director comes close to intimating that beneath the crowd-pleasing sentiments he may have felt greater ambivalence towards the masses than is generally held.</div>
Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-952001823757811412012-07-09T02:21:00.000+02:002012-07-11T22:03:33.440+02:00Bloody Blow (Canada, 2012); Dir. Rémy Couture & Joseph Elfassi<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span class="s1">The other day I received a message from a young friend. She's an inquisitive girl a penchant for controversial material; be it Charles Manson's curtailed music career, accounts of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Fish"><span class="s2">Brooklyn Vampire</span></a> or the writings of Satanic supercrank Anton Lavey.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Anyway, she sent me a link to the short film I've embedded above and wanted my impressions. Being an egotist who hides behind a facade of false modesty I was of course happy to oblige.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I'll confess that beforehand I'd never heard of Rémy Couture, the French Canadian filmmaker and special effects artist who was arrested in 2009 on charges of obscenity relating to a series of extreme horror shorts he'd made a few years before and made available on his website innerdepravity.com. His trial has already been adjourned a number of times but is currently scheduled to start in December 2012.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Couture's oeuvre, so to speak, explores the transgression of taboos. He's steeped in horror history and cites such works as <i>Hellraiser </i>and <i>Cannibal Holocaust </i>amongst his formative influences. As a effects artist he's been involved with some major Hollywood productions and at least prior to his arrest was much sought after.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Now personally I've don't have any great interest in the more radical forms of body horror; it's something I've dipped into for curiosity's sake but hardly a place I care to spend much time. It's not really a question of taste more that it often appears banal and a bit silly.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">So <i>Bloody Blow, </i>the film Couture recently released to promote his ongoing legal fight, was never likely to float my boat. It's a short vignette in which Couure's occasional collaborator Zombie Boy (model and artist Ricky Genest) is held for interrogation by the authorities. After being seduced by a goth temptress Zombie Boy tucks into some raw brains and is then executed. The piece closes with a reminder of the charges of corrupting morals Couture is facing and the admonition 'ART IS NOT A CRIME' written in smeared blood.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">My initial response was not so much of disgust as supercilious disregard for the film's merits. Yes, it's giving expression to the nihilistic, sociopathic urges that reside beneath the veneer of civilised society, but it's doing so in a fairly crass and obvious way with the specific intention of trying to provoke disgust. In the past eighteen months I've watched uncut versions of the aforesaid <i><a href="http://allslightsdeserved.blogspot.co.uk/2011/01/afed-3-cannibal-holocaust-1980-dir.html">Cannibal Holocaust</a> </i>and Srđan Spasojević's <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Serbian_Film">A Serbian Film</a> </i>and both were more shockingly effective in that regard, although in the case of <i>Cannibal Holocaust </i>I abhor the cruelty with which this was achieved.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">However, on a second viewing I realised I'd overreacted. <i>Bloody Blow </i>may be graphic in its depiction of cannibalism but the whole scenario so cartoonish that it's really not that offensive. It put me in mind of the kind of thing found in EC's horror comics during the fifties and it seems laughable that sixty years later the censorship debate appears to have progressed so little. If this is reflective of Couture's earlier work it's hard to see what all the fuss is about.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">But there's something else I wanted to touch upon which sadly may have some influence upon Couture's trial, as it again centres around the dissemination of horrific material over the internet...</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Last month police in Hamburg arrested and extradited <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-18326432">Luka Magnotta</a>, a Canadian porn star and model wanted on suspicion of killing and dismembering Jin Lun, a Chinese student, and then sending his severed limbs to the offices of various political parties and elementary schools.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">As if this wasn't disturbing enough Magnotta also uploaded an alleged video of the murder and dismemberment to <a href="http://bestgore.com/"><span class="s2">bestgore.com</span></a>, a website which publishes videos and photos of real-life death and mutilation obtained from various sources. According to the site's owner Mark Marek it does so because people have a right to know the "real, uncensored truth".</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Marek removed the video and notified the police when he realised its provenance (although they took some persuading to believe him), but in some quarters it's raised serious questions about the extent to which society is becoming desensitised to extreme violence and horror in the internet age. Lest we imagine that this is a phenomena that more directly applies to troubled Canadian souls accustomed to long, dark winters, bear in mind how only a few months ago the front pages of British newspapers carried pictures of the barely alive Muammar Gaddafi being dragged to his execution.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Are we at risk of being 'corrupted' by such material? I think it's important to distinguish between morbid curiosity and the propensity to be depraved or corrupted (if such a thing exists). Who hasn't been guilty of some form of ghoulish rubbernecking at some point in their lives?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Let me give you an example from personal experience. On the evening of Sunday 15th April 1984 I was staying at my grandmother's in Bath. Despite being a devout Christian my gran had a penchant for trashy American and Australian soaps and I think we were watching <i>Dynasty</i> on BBC1. It was only the following day that I learnt how Tommy Cooper had collapsed and died on <i>Live From Her Majesty's </i>on ITV.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">This incident had always fascinated me; along with the death of a boy I knew in a joyriding accident a couple of years later it seemed to encapsulate the concept of death in my childhood. So one bored afternoon a few months ago I decided to search for a clip of it online and suffice to say I quickly found it. There I was finally watching the moment a comedy legend slipped this mortal coil. It left me feeling sick and empty; I'd never care to see that again.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I'm by no means a portrait of sanity but I'm fairly confident I'm not a homicidal killer either. As human beings we have an ambivalence about death and the circumstances that lead to it; it appalls and fascinates us. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">What's more the macabre and the moving image have an association almost as old as the cinema itself. One of the earliest films produced by the Edison Company was <i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCx89BRbVeU">Electrocuting an Elephant </a></i>in 1903. The dubious delights of bestgore.com can be seen as a continuation of the mondo filmmaking tradition that began (with <i>Mondo Cane</i>) in the early sixties and woud lead to such work as the infamous <i>Faces of Death</i> series the following decade. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Granted, these films made much use of faked material whereas, if the evidence to be believed, some of the bestgore clips have proven to be all too genuine. But the fact remains mondo and its descendants satiate an essential curiosity that some (by no means all) people feel. Accepting that you'll never extinguish this the onus is on the proprietors of such websites to ensure they moderate them with vigilance, although I guess there are no guarantees on that score.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Yet notwithstanding morbid curiosity do depictions of extreme violence, real or imaginary, carry the potential to deprave and corrupt? Well actually, yes, I suspect they probably do... <i><b>to a limited extent</b></i>. Take any case of abhorrent crime that's been given any serious study or investigation - the James Bulger killers for example - and you'll find a wealth of psychological factors, environmental factors and formative incidents that could have drawn those individuals towards sociopathic behaviour. Of these film, tv and video are just a single element, but they're potent mediums that can be recorded and replayed, unlike most experiences.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">It's argued that the distinction between entertainment and reality is growing blurred but the evidence for any commensurate increase in violent crime is sketchy at best (though government agencies grow ever more sophisticated in their manipulation of statistics). Compare that to millions of kids undermining their prospects with insane dreams of instant celebrity sold to them by tv 'talent' shows and you can't help but be struck by the irony; nobody calls for these to be banned.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Implicit within the notion of a social contract between the individual and the state - and its utilitarian basis - is the faith that freedoms, however idiosyncratic, won't be curtailed unless it's for the greater good of society. Yet censorship undermines this trust and dilutes our liberty through specious evidence of our corruptibility.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I'm reminded of the research the academic Martin Barker did into the 'moral panic' surrounding video nasties in the early eighties, where a minority of puritanical zealots resorted to flimsy evidence, lies and obfuscation to arrive at the introduction of the 1984 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Recordings_Act_1984">Video Recordings Act</a>. These weren't people acting for the greater good; their objective was social control and history has shown we ought to be very wary of that.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The problem these moral crusaders face nowadays is that the internet makes it all but impossible to enforce censorship, so instead they seek scapegoats. If successfully convicted it could be that Rémy Couture is just the first and set a disturbing precedent.</span></div>Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-89001004669338447232012-07-02T00:28:00.001+02:002012-07-07T14:28:01.803+02:00Storage 24 (UK, 2012); Dir. Johannes Roberts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, it finally happened: I got to see a Johannes Roberts film at my local cinema. If somebody had told me this when I sat shaking my head in dismay at the singular incompetence of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0361507/"><i>Sanitarium</i></a> I wouldn't have credited it. Hopefully it's not the end of the journey but he appears to have arrived somewhere.<br />
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<i>Storage 24</i> is a nuts and bolts sci-fi exploitation movie. The premise is a simple one: a US cargo plane has crashed somewhere in London, possibly shot down, for reasons unknown. Part of the wreckage has landed in the grounds of the titular secure storage warehouse, including a mysterious container which has broken open, releasing a nasty monster which seeks refuge in the building.<br />
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It also causes a power failure, meaning that those who happen to venture inside - including Noel Clarke, the girlfriend he's just acrimoniously split from and attendant friends - find themselves trapped in there with the beast.<br />
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We've seen it all many times before of course, from <i>The Thing From Another World</i> onwards. Like a number of Jo's films the debt to John Carpenter (<i>Assault on Precinct Thirteen</i>, <i>The Thing</i>) in particular is clear, indeed his last film <i>F </i>(<a href="http://allslightsdeserved.blogspot.co.uk/2011/01/afed-11-f-2010-dir-johannes-roberts.html">reviewed on this blog last year</a>) was built around the same conceit of characters being picked off and dismembered by mysterious assailants.<br />
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Perhaps surprising then that for the first time (to my recollection) he wasn't directing from one of his own scripts but that of star and producer Noel Clarke, although I do wonder how much rewriting may have been done during development.<br />
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Clarke is an interesting leading man and indeed an interesting figure on the British film scene. He may not be the most talented actor or writer out there, nor for that matter a conventionally attractive one, but he goes about his business with conviction and good humour and most importantly gets films made.<br />
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If I had one particular criticism to make of him though it's that he didn't exert more influence on the film's bland casting; it's not that I don't believe a black man would have a white girlfriend and best friend but it would have been nice to see another black face or two in there. Maybe it was a sop to the film's financiers who felt there was risk enough having a black star without adding more colour.<br />
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Another shortcoming is the film's monster. I was nervous when I heard Johannes and Noel mention in interviews how they'd made a point of making the creature more conspicuous than in similar films (e.g. <i>Alien</i>), although intrigued when comparisons were drawn with the Marvel Comics character <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venom_%28comics%29">Venom</a>. If by that they meant it would evoke the worst excesses of nineties comics then I'm afraid they're right.<br />
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And yet despite these weaknesses <i>Storage 24</i> is an effective and enjoyable effort. There's no pretension to it; this is a film that knows it's a B movie and that the priority is to deliver thrills and gore. We've got a fairly good idea what's going to happen right from the outset, but like <i>The Thing</i>, <i>Alien</i> or countless inferior films the very concept exploits the vicarious appeal of cinema - like the characters we're sealed in for the duration.<br />
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One aspect I would have liked to see made more of were the hints of what's going on in the outside world while this drama unfolds, but in fairness that might undermine the final twist.<br />
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It probably reveals something of Universal's modesty of ambitions for the film that they've released it up against one of the summer's big movies (<i>The Amazing Spider-Man</i>). Sure enough there were less than a dozen in the audience when I saw it and although Epsom is hardly a cultural barometer most likely <i>Storage 24</i> will have to wait until its dvd release to do any serious business. Which perhaps makes Roberts and Clarke's talk in interviews of a possible sequel seem a mite optimistic.<br />
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Still, stranger things have happened and while I think I preferred <i>F</i>'s relative originality this is time well spent.Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-9189580432464310572012-05-30T20:59:00.000+02:002012-06-01T01:31:22.791+02:00Cactus Jack [aka The Villain] (US, 1979); Dir. Hal NeedhamSometimes you want to go right back to the beginning; before it became complicated, before all the doubts, disappointments and cynicism. When every day felt new and different yet comfortingly the same.<br />
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Although I was born in London my earliest memories are of High Wycombe in Buckinghamshire. I can just about recall standing with my mum beside my sister's cot when I was two years old, nearly three. Gradually the impressions grow more substantial; Christmases and birthdays, my first day at school (what a miserable old git that headmaster was), climbing to the top of the apple tree in our back garden, finishing third in a race on sports day because, while in the lead, I'd stopped to watch my fellow competitors!<br />
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It feels so vivid and real compared to later years and perhaps a part of me died when we moved away the summer before I turned eight. I know I'd never feel quite so sure of myself again. Maybe that's why I've felt the urge to revisit it a couple of times in the last few years, to recapture that earlier idea of myself.<br />
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What a strange sensation to rely on the memories of a quarter century earlier to retrace old routes; the walk from the station to our old street was disrupted by a new housing development where once there had been a furniture factory (High Wycombe was the original home of G-Plan). On the other hand I wasn't sorry to see that a footpath where my mum had been assaulted on her way home from a PTA meeting was now blocked off. Revisiting the school (okay, trespassing) it was reassuring to find that some concrete playground equipment I'd remembered being installed so many years before remained intact.<br />
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Half lost in revelries of things past, like George Bowling in Orwell's <i>Coming Up for Air,</i> yet feeling oddly displaced and vagrant like a character in a seventies Wenders film, I wandered and wondered about those childhood haunts. At one point I fancied I might have seen a girl (now woman) I went to school with. I knew she still lived in our old street as our families continued to swap Christmas cards. Funny how one speculates; if fate had been different and we'd not moved away I'd often thought perhaps we would have become sweethearts. Diana Witham, whatever you're doing now, if you should happen to read this, I send you a virtual kiss.<br />
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But I've digressed indulgently. I wanted to tell you about my first ever trip to the movies...<br />
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I was five years old. It was a Saturday lunchtime and my dad, having just returned from working a night shift in London, asked me if I'd like to go to the cinema. There was a Spider-Man film playing - actually a feature length episode of the Nicholas Hammond tv series that was given theatrical distribution, although clearly I wasn't au fait with the particulars at the time - and I jumped at the chance of this new and exciting experience.<br />
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So off we went. In the foyer my dad bought me a large bag of jelly gums and we settled down in the darkness of the auditorium, close to an exit, for the presentation.<br />
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But here's the thing: it swiftly became clear that the film we were watching wasn't Spider-Man; not unless the web slinger had swapped his blue and red spandex for a stetson and spurs. You see it was actually a double feature, the first half of which was a slapstick comedy western in which a black-clad villainous cowboy was continually thwarted in his attempts to stop a young couple travelling cross-country in a wagon. I wasn't disappointed and found it quite entertaining, although perhaps my enjoyment wasn't that apparent as my dad kept checking if I was alright.<br />
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When the second Spider-Man feature finally began it seemed dull by comparison and I don't think we stayed more than fifteen minutes, with me carelessly leaving the bag of sweets behind (seriously, that's caused me guilt ever since). Looking back I wonder if my father had expected Spidey to be on first and decided by that point I'd probably had enough, but I've never asked him and not being the sentimental type I doubt he has a strong recollection of the experience.<br />
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Now for years afterwards I had no idea about the identity of this film. Then, during my final year at university I happened to mention it to a housemate and fellow film student who was a few years older. Remarkably he could recall this very double bill doing the rounds and informed me it was a comedy known over here as <i>Cactus Jack</i>...<br />
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If thirty years ago I'd tried to explain how, on deciding on a whim to watch this film again, I could summon it through the ether after a few taps on my keyboard, then thirty minutes later transfer the video file onto a tiny data stick and play it on my tv it would have been conclusive proof of my insanity. The passage of time has been generous to cinephiles, enabling us to revisit works would have once been consigned to oblivion (or at least the vaults). The same cannot be said of <i>Cactus Jack</i> and watching it again I begin to understand why my dad hadn't felt inclined to linger around long after.<br />
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Frankly it's a terrible attempt at comedy, more notable for the stars involved than any artistic merit. The thin storyline was much as I recalled; Cactus Jack (Kirk Douglas) is a cartoon villain in the old West who's hired to steal money that the ravishing Charming Jones (Ann-Margret) is taking back to her father under the guard of a Handsome Stranger (Arnold Schwarzenegger).<br />
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During the course of their journey Cactus Jack is repeatedly foiled in his wild and and ingenious attempts to curtail their progress in a style that deliberately recalls Wile E. Coyote in the <i>Road Runner </i>cartoons. He's flattened by boulders, falls from great heights, gets hit by a train and - the gag that I still recalled from all those years before - watches incredulous as Charming and Handsome Stranger's wagon travels through a false tunnel which he'd painted onto a solid rock face.<br />
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I can understand why these innocent laughs would have appealed to the five year-old me but to the older viewer they soon grow tedious and there's very little else to recommend here. None of those involved are particularly gifted comedians, although Douglas makes a game attempt to ham it up as the buffoon villain and, for a man who was by then 62, had kept himself in impressively good shape to withstand the pratfalls.<br />
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The allure of Ann-Margret's Charming was understandably lost to me the first time around and I couldn't help but reflect how we make sense of a film relative to our own experiences. When I first watched it I'd assumed she and Handsome were a couple yet to worldlier eyes her character is clearly something of a slut who spends much of the time unsuccessfully trying to seduce Arnie's naive hero. <br />
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As for Mr Schwarzenegger the obvious remark is that few could have imagined this stilted performer with his thick accent would a decade later be the biggest star in movies. Truth be told he's really no better or worse than the other leads and at least offers something a little bit different from the generic norm. Schwarzenegger's entire career was built on canny choices which allowed him to work within his limitations. Only the most pompous snob can deny his screen presence.<br />
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And really that's all there is to say, except that one surmises the only way this lacklustre effort could have ever got a release is as a support feature. Yet that distant past where a little boy first discovered the silver screen really is a foreign country, the film I watched then was a quite different one.<br />
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In the words of Thomas Wolfe you can't go home again.<br />
<br />Richard Halfhidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04037050522380484332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-17305692389391879752011-05-16T01:51:00.000+02:002011-05-16T01:51:53.804+02:00AFED #135: Kaidan chibusa enoki [Ghost of Chibusa Enoki, aka The Mother Tree] (Japan, 1958); Dir. Gorô KadonoAlthough Japanese supernatural horror might nowadays lead one to think of stories about cursed videotapes and spectral emo girls who can't keep their hair out of their faces, these are only recent manifestations of a tradition that's several hundred years old. <br />
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Japanese ghost stories, or <i>kaidan</i>, first emerged during the Edo period in the seventeenth century, adapted and inspired by earlier Chinese ghost stories. Typically they revolve around vengeful spirits who return to redress a wrong committed against them in their mortal lives, or sometimes with a general grudge against humanity.<br />
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Kaidan have inspired two of Japanese cinema's most celebrated films - Kobayashi's <i>Kwaidan</i> and Mizoguchi's <i>Ugetsu</i> - but there are numerous other lesser works that draw upon this heritage. During the fifties the Shintoho, a short-lived studio founded by former employees of the more famous Toho Co, produced a series of modest kaidan films, one of which was <i>The Mother Tree</i>...<br />
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This compact (just 6o minutes), economical feature is the story of Chibusa Enoki, a successful painter who takes on a scheming samurai as his apprentice. When Chibusa goes away to fulfill a long-standing commission the samurai seizes the opportunity to rape the painter's devoted wife before murdering her maid. Upon the painter's return the samurai forces Chibusa's servant into helping lure the unsuspecting artist into a trap and murders kills them both, casting Chibusa's body into a pond. <br />
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However, the dead man left his last painting unfinished, which appears to be a pretext to return and exact some righteous justice. After making an appearance before his wife and instructing her to deliver their newborn child to the safety of the 'mother tree' the baleful Chibusa sets about achieving his retribution against the villain.<br />
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Although by all accounts a fairly typical example of the genre, to less accustomed western eyes it's an engrossing tale which delivers the requisite chills. The camerawork and editing are more conventional than I anticipated (none of the long, pensive shots of Ozu or Mizoguchi here) but within its budgetary limitations there's a building sense of foreboding before the eventual payoff.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-54049928932209204432011-05-03T23:28:00.000+02:002011-12-18T16:41:30.942+01:00AFED #123: Hôtel Terminus: The Life and Times of Klaus Barbie (France/US, 1988); Dir. Marcel Ophüls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizzHHTkJfGW21bRMcE2kcsmSxjzrWMUnQsMVQLMrYR6RGKHnyOlfByYYuIS416E7-qdMiTK8QSpdkMpX_Zs6ebwkcEHociNQ7iqUksElTmMWQxJPstptucConOrmo0x7427C8tnkYU_uM/s1600/Hotel+Terminus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizzHHTkJfGW21bRMcE2kcsmSxjzrWMUnQsMVQLMrYR6RGKHnyOlfByYYuIS416E7-qdMiTK8QSpdkMpX_Zs6ebwkcEHociNQ7iqUksElTmMWQxJPstptucConOrmo0x7427C8tnkYU_uM/s320/Hotel+Terminus.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Marcel Ophüls' Oscar-winning documentary is a sprawling epic that seeks answers to questions both factual and philosophical. Through a composite of dozens of interviews with subjects in France, Germany and the Americas he builds a portrait of the career of Barbie, the Nazi war criminal dubbed the Butcher of Lyon, perhaps most infamous for his capture and torture of the French Resistance leader Jean Moulin. <br />
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The director's diligent efforts to get to the bottom of the Moulin affair, and who may or may not have exposed him to the Nazis, make up much of the first half of the four and half hours. Even forty years after the event the wounds and recriminations continue to fester in the survivors and the testimonies suggest that the matter of collaboration is not quite as clear as one might imagine.<br />
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It also touches upon Barbie's formative years and the first-hand accounts of those who suffered from his sadistic interrogation techniques. Yet perhaps more astonishing are the disclosures of what happened after the war, when far from bringing Barbie to account for his crimes American intelligence instead deployed him to help them root out communists in the newly liberated Germany. Later they would assist Barbie's escape to South America, where he provided further assistance to the CIA in Bolivia before finally being extradited back for trial in Europe decades later.<br />
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Like many Nazis Barbie's lack of contrition for his crimes renders it difficult to feel much sympathy for the man, yet there are glimpses that some found him to be a likeable character and even good company, alebit often ignorant of his past. One can fully appreciate this was Ophüls' <i>modus operandi</i> but a little more insight into Barbie's personal life would have added richness and complexity. To understand evil one needs to understand both its provenance and the moral code by which reprehensible actions become allowable.<br />
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Or maybe this was outside the film's remit. Regardless, it's complex, disturbing and absorbing film-making.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-90773042526121105512011-05-02T23:46:00.000+02:002011-05-02T23:49:23.298+02:00AFED #122: The Man Who Laughs (US, 1928); Dir. Paul Leni<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoAAX4cysGourXIE59qIqaG62gJ7NnXM9ZvdnasGYQX2ylvR_lU9yUGf2amud79GU4dtiS-3uQ-0YIB33BXn0le3FQqVC4s5f09jjfL_FLorYwubX25JQBfDJfBJs88YpGAejuEDUpnGA/s1600/Man+Who+Laughs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoAAX4cysGourXIE59qIqaG62gJ7NnXM9ZvdnasGYQX2ylvR_lU9yUGf2amud79GU4dtiS-3uQ-0YIB33BXn0le3FQqVC4s5f09jjfL_FLorYwubX25JQBfDJfBJs88YpGAejuEDUpnGA/s320/Man+Who+Laughs.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Given the high regard in which it's held I perhaps had unfair expectations of <i>The Man Who Laughs</i>. Based on Victor Hugo's novel of the same name, like his more celebrated <i>Notre-Dame de Paris</i> it's a historical melodrama with gothic overtones. In the hands of director Paul Leni it becomes an atmospheric romance that sanitises the German Expressionist aesthetic.<br />
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Although it's actually one of the earliest Universal pictures to incorporate sound elements it has the opulent production standards typical of silent films during this period, with some elaborate sets depicting 18th century London and the court of Queen Anne. But at nearly two hours the story seems stretched to the point of tedium and the characters lack the depth or complexity to make them engaging.<br />
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Yet Conrad Veidt, an actor who comfortably ranks amongst my all time favourites, delivers a sensitive performance as Gwynplaine, the unfortunate hero who is disfigured as a child in an act of revenge against his nobleman father. At least, as sensitive as it's possible to be when your face is locked in a permanent grin. His distinctive visage famously inspired Jerry Robinson in his creation of Batman's arch nemesis The Joker, but one suspects Christopher Nolan (earning his second namecheck in two days) revisited this film before his own take on the character in <i>The Dark Knight</i>.<br />
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I was expecting a darker and altogether more twisted tale than delivered here but perhaps I should have read up beforehand.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-72110579677610257662011-05-01T23:46:00.000+02:002011-05-03T00:12:38.834+02:00AFED #121: Paprika (Japan, 2006); Dir. Satoshi KonIf you wonder where Christopher Nolan found his inspiration for <i>Inception</i> then look no further. The wunderkind writer/director has readily acknowledged that Satoshi Kon's 2006 anime was an influence and not only do they share the same premise - that of being able to share other people's dreams - but certain images were directly copied.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_wfTa_FKVz0JtzkYR66RypJuXi5gG_SAEbBQiKBsMGDlaO9EENi8trzVE8x1uiWa1Hn5gokzLhvzGqWq-vvTqZiRps2r3qfah_DsiJisxbuKIEdOIqv1Q_GE621Ch4oCLy1FianGL5g/s1600/paprika.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_wfTa_FKVz0JtzkYR66RypJuXi5gG_SAEbBQiKBsMGDlaO9EENi8trzVE8x1uiWa1Hn5gokzLhvzGqWq-vvTqZiRps2r3qfah_DsiJisxbuKIEdOIqv1Q_GE621Ch4oCLy1FianGL5g/s320/paprika.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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That's not a slight towards Nolan and Kon's own influences, such as the work of author Philip K. Dick, are readily apparent here in this story of a technological innovation that allows therapists to enter the dreams of their subjects. Inevitably it falls into the wrong hands and is put to malicious ends, resulting in a dream that spreads like a virus, blurring fantasy and reality.<br />
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Like his earlier film <i>Millenium Actress</i> (<a href="http://allslightsdeserved.blogspot.com/2011/02/afed-36-millenium-actress-japan-2001.html">AFED #36</a>) Kon allows his imagination to go to town with some astonishing sequences and truly hallucinogenic dream imagery. Unfortunately it also shares the flaw of sacrificing something in the way of coherence and at times you're not quite sure what's supposed to be happening. Possibly the fault was my own and I'm sure repeated viewings will prove rewarding.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-13371033190517751402011-04-21T17:56:00.000+02:002011-04-25T18:16:39.606+02:00AFED #111: Shào Lín sān shí liù fáng [The 36th Chamber of Shaolin] (Hong Kong, 1978); Dir. Liu Ch-Liang; Tian xia di yi quan [aka King Boxer, aka Five Fingers of Death] (Hong Kong, 1972); Dir. Cheng Chang HoMartial arts film are, it must be confessed, something of a blank area for me. Many years ago I recall being challenged by a friend when I suggested that <i>Enter the Dragon</i> was the best of this genre ever made. "You've never seen any others though," he pointed out. It's true, and until now I haven't made any attempt to redress this.<br />
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So let's start with a double bill produced by Hong Kong's most famous studio, the redoubtable Shaw Brothers. The name is synonymous with Kung Fu and martial arts cinema, almost representing a genre within the genre, cranking out dozens of films a year during their heyday in the seventies. <br />
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Modelled on the old Hollywood studio system, right down to the company logo (imitating that of Warners'), the company kept a stable of stars and directors under exclusive contract. It worked highly effectively although as the decade progressed Shaw would be eclipsed by a rough-and-ready rival, Golden Harvest, who launched the careers of many of the most famous martial arts stars (Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Jet Li) and was ironically formed by two former Shaw executives.<br />
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<i>King Boxer</i> and <i>The 36th Chamber of Shaolin</i> (I'll use the titles of the dvd releases) are considered amongst the best Shaw films, boasting an enthusiastic fan following. Tarantino lists the former amongst his all-time favourites, while my interest in <i>36th Chamber</i> was piqued by its influence on rappers the Wu Tang Clan (RZA even contributes to the dvd commentary).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIw1y4SlFplHmz_qPc_0MQSS7tbmBTiqOi6NiaIts1oCm0H-w2EjX3asvAYuGJvITxqMz7YQUpV3DWmsqgRLLCZ6H5ksBHL14dtRe7gIFHeumJGgBJDnntd65T0rV5sYUnkBqTb-2Dv7M/s1600/King+Boxer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIw1y4SlFplHmz_qPc_0MQSS7tbmBTiqOi6NiaIts1oCm0H-w2EjX3asvAYuGJvITxqMz7YQUpV3DWmsqgRLLCZ6H5ksBHL14dtRe7gIFHeumJGgBJDnntd65T0rV5sYUnkBqTb-2Dv7M/s320/King+Boxer.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Both films star young heroes who must undergo physical and spiritual rites of passage in order to vanquish their oppressors. In <i>King Boxer</i> Chi-Hao (Lo Lieh) enters the tutelage of a new master, Shen Chin-Pei, in readiness for a forthcoming tournament in which he must defeat the local tyrant's son. <br />
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Learning quickly, Chi-Hao initiated into the secret of Shen Chin-Pei's mysterious 'iron fist' technique (presumably inspiring the Marvel hero of the same name) and earns the enmity of the master's previous favourite who sets him up for a clash with the villains, who in turn crush his hands. Chi-Hao must call upon all his reserves of determination in order to recover in time and win the tournament.<br />
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It's simplistic, comic-book stuff; garish visuals, variable acting, simplistic dialogue and regular displays of unfeasible acrobatics and superhuman fighting skills. Yet it's assembled professionally; although the sets betray it's mainly studio-based filming it's crisp cinematography is comfortably on a par with an American production.<br />
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Chi-Hao's training, the patience and resolve required to master skills, forms an important component of Kick Boxer, but for <i>The 36th Chamber of Shaolin</i> it's pretty much the raison d'être. The film is a fictionalised account of the legend of San Te, a disciple of martial arts at the revered Shaolin monastery during the eighteenth century.<br />
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In this version of the story San Te (Gordon Liu) is one of a group of a group of students who join their teacher into opposing the Manchu government (i.e. the ruling Qing dynasty). When his friends and family are killed San Te flees to the Shaolin temple, hoping they will teach him the techniques of kung fu.<br />
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During the long middle act he gradually moves through the different 'chambers', or colleges of learning, that are required to become a kung fu master. These range in complexity from learning to negotiate a water jump by stepping on a floating barrel to advanced fighting techniques. After several years of committed study and application he finally attains the top ranking, but rather than remain in the temple he requests to be allowed to form a new 36th chamber, dedicated to teaching kung fu to common folk. <br />
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Although less action orientated <i>36th Chamber</i> does a good job of conveying the kung fu philosophy. San Te may be the most gifted student at the temple but the attainment of his goal is still only attained through great tribulation and endless repetition of the same exercises. Given the villains are effectively out of the picture for much of the film it could be painfully dull but we're drawn in to the hero's personal journey. Humour - in particular San Te's many pratfalls as he attempts to master the skills - plays an important part and Gordon Liu gives a charismatic performance in the lead.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-9301552889668518962011-04-19T22:40:00.001+02:002011-04-25T13:12:48.687+02:00AFED #109: Sanshō Dayũ [Sansho the Bailiff] (Japan, 1954); Dir. Kenji MizoguchiFew national cinemas can boast the wealth of directing talent that Japan possessed between the forties and sixties. Yasujirō Ozu, Akira Kurosawa, Kenji Mizoguchi, Mikio Naruse and Masaki Kobayashi were all active during this golden age, producing some of the classics of world cinema.<br />
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Mizoguchi, director of <i>Sanshō Dayũ</i>, is still something of a grey area for me as I've thus far only watched this and (his own favourite work) <i>The Life of Oharu</i> (1952). It shares with the theme of all fall from status, yet while Oharu's is partly of her own doing for the hapless characters of <i>Sanshō Dayũ</i> their fortunes are constantly governed by the fickle hand of fate.<br />
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Taking place - like so many Japanese films of this vintage - during the feudal era, the story begins with the exiling of a virtuous governor to a far-off province. When his wife and children attempt to make the long journey to visit him they are tricked and find themselves sold into prostitution and slavery. The children, Anju (Kyôko Kagawa) and Zushio (Yoshiaki Hanayagi) fall into the ownership of the eponymous Sansho, a vindictive landowner, and treated with appalling hardship and brutality.<br />
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Years pass and Zushio becomes hardened by the experience while his sister Anju still recalls their father's teachings. When opportunity deals them the opportunity to escape Sansho's compound Anju convinces Zushio to make the journey in search of their mother and come back to rescue her. Thereafter the story focuses on Zushio as remarkable series of events that allow him to turn the tables on Sansho and liberate his slaves. It comes too late to save Zushio's father and sister but in an overwrought finale he is reunited with his mother, now blind and frail.<br />
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Strangely enough there are parallels with <i>Ben Hur</i>, which I've watched recently (this entry being written several days after the event, I'm afraid). Both revolve around a son seeking to correct wrongs committed against his family and trying to reconcile the desire for revenge with the more tolerant teachings of his 'father'. Yet while in the Hollywood film success is achieved through superhuman resolve, in Mizoguchi's world struggle is not always rewarded with the desired results and luck, good and bad, always has a part to play.<br />
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Confucian philosophy lies at the heart of this talr, in particular the theme of honouring one's parents. Ultimately Zushio achieves a victory of sorts by rediscovering and applying those principles, albeit agonisingly too late. Some of the film's power may have been lost by time; occasionally scenes that might have seemed naturalistic in the fifties now come across as stiled. Yet <i>Sanshō Dayũ</i> still packs a punch.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-91027301283687378892011-04-19T01:25:00.000+02:002011-05-08T22:12:22.937+02:00AFED #108: Haute Tension [High Tension, aka Switchblade Romance] (France, 2003); Dir. Alexandre AjaThere's a gimmick that's gained prominence in cinema over the past decade that I find increasingly irksome. It cropped up in <i>La casa muda</i> <a href="http://allslightsdeserved.blogspot.com/2011/04/afed-101-la-casa-muda-silent-house.html">just last week</a> and here it is again, albeit <i>Haute Tension</i> preempted the Uruguayan film by several years.<br />
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Let's call that gimmick EYTYKIW: Everything You Think You Know Is Wrong. Now EYTYKIW is a somewhat different creature to the twist ending, which has been with us ever since cavemen began sitting around the fire telling stories. Twist endings are the final snap in a story, a little surprise to muse over afterwards. By contrast EYTYKIW typically comes at some point during the third act and gleefully exposes the artifice of narrative; those logical assumptions we've made while reading or watching a story.<br />
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The interesting thing about EYTYKIW is it can be effective without necessarily being that much of a surprise. Anybody with a passing knowledge of old school psycho-thrillers won't have been taken aback by Scorsese's <i>Shutter Island</i> but that doesn't prevent it from being a damn entertaining film. <br />
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But the problem arises when filmmakers, in their desperation to be clever or original, play the EYTYKIW card with scant regard to what's gone before. If it undermines the logical consistency of the earlier part of the story without adequate foreshadowing then it's simply cheating and the viewer has every justification in feeling conned.<br />
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<i>Haute Tension</i> is for the main part an affectionate (if that's appropriate) homage to seventies American home invasion horrors; grizzly grindhouse classics such as Wes Craven's <i>Last House On the Left</i>. Marie (Cécile de France) and Alex (Maïwenn Le Besco) are two college friends who travel to the country home of Alex's parents to spend the weekend studying. It's apparent from the onset that Marie - with close-cropped hair that makes her resemble a butch Jean Seberg - has a crush on Alex, although her friend seems blithely unaware.<br />
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That night a van-driving, switchblade-wielding brute breaks into the house, gruesomely slaughters Alex's family, ties her up and kidnaps her. Marie, who managed to hide from the invader, sneaks into the back of the van with her and resolves to somehow get them out of this mess.<br />
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This and the majority of what ensues would actually have made for a highly effective thriller. Writer/director Alexandre Aja gleefully milks all the conventions of suspense and although there's a superfluity of gore it's executed with plenty of élan. What's more the idea of a lesbian heroine who must demonstrate masculine resourcefulness to save the day is a provocative one.<br />
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Unfortunately it doesn't appear to have been enough for Aja and he resorts to the aforesaid EYTYKIW. Logic flies out the window and he deploys some rather lame and not inoffensive stereotyping in the process. Perhaps the catch came first and he wrote the story around it, but that doesn't make it any more satisfying.<br />
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And so that postmodern conceit, the cannibalisation of narrative convention, wins out over old-fashioned storytelling. I'm not averse, I'll gleefully embrace innovative cinema, but this was trite and silly.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7441230359864631553.post-48942250248295941962011-04-16T19:21:00.000+02:002011-04-18T21:18:46.577+02:00AFED #106: Obaltan [The Aimless Bullet] (South Korea, 1960); Dir. Yu Hyun-mok<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKY5JK9ZXUc-gSnvsD1X4lSII47_UiCYJc1m9z5y6qcmqQlZfsPEB3t1J3_ZKCLSnOxYVv9mjEJm54faRZ52FxDnEAXeUSyyXHbsUiC1VnpgS2CPpKjpGXC9jic__W_wZ58fG_1SmpYcU/s1600/Obaltan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKY5JK9ZXUc-gSnvsD1X4lSII47_UiCYJc1m9z5y6qcmqQlZfsPEB3t1J3_ZKCLSnOxYVv9mjEJm54faRZ52FxDnEAXeUSyyXHbsUiC1VnpgS2CPpKjpGXC9jic__W_wZ58fG_1SmpYcU/s320/Obaltan.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Although regarded by some as South Korea's finest ever film, <i>Obaltan</i> is very much a product of the changes cinema underwent across the world in the post-war years. Fittingly therefore it's a film about readjusting to civilian life after wartime, although here the war in question is the military conflict that shook Korea between 1950 and 1953.<br />
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Falling somewhere between <i>The Best Years of Our Lives</i> and the plaintive bleakness of Italian neorealism, it relates the story of two brothers who live in poverty in the ravaged slums of Seoul. The elder, Yeong-ho (Kim Jin-kyu), works for a pittance as an accountant to support his wife and young children whilst tormented by chronic toothache. His younger sibling Cheol-ho (Choi Mu-ryong) is a former war hero who spends his time hanging out his fellow veterans and promising, but always failing, to find a job.<br />
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As events progress things go from bad to worse for the brothers. Cheol-ho is reunited with a nurse who treated him in hospital and romance briefly flickers only for tragedy to strike. His resulting desperation leads to a surprising change of pace during the film's final third as he makes a misguided attempt to redress his circumstances. Meanwhile Yeong-ho's life takes an even more callous twist that plunges him into the depths of misery. In case you were in any doubt before the message is clear: life is shit.<br />
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Not entirely surprising then that the South Korean government (in the wake of a coup d'etat) sought to suppress the film. Yet it drew acclaim at the 1963 San Francisco International Film Festival and prompted reappraisal. Like so much realist cinema although bitterly uncompromising in its portrayal of the world it does so with harrowing sensitivity. <br />
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Director Yoo Hyun-Mok, who would become the country's premier auteur, struggled with the production for more than a year, working with meagre resources. At times the financial and technical limitations are plainly apparent; at one point a chase sequence inexplicably switches to a night-time shot and the effect is less expressive than disruptive. But there are also some beautifully realised moments such as Cheol-ho's discovery of the nurse's demise and the closing scenes as Yeong-ho's world unravels. <br />
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It would nice to see the film again in a fully restored print as the version I watched was very much the worse for wear. But for those wishing to learn about the roots of modern South Korean cinema it's well worth the effort.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0