The Jean Cocteau classic is over-rated, but that doesn't lower it to anything less than the level of a fun, curious fantasy with transcendentally lovely sets.
The story is well told, and the acting, especially by Belle, is charming. At the start, it looks set to be a masterpiece, with fantastic atmospherics and a wonderful (though severly budget constrained settings of the house of la bete).
The problem with the film though is that it never quite goes the whole hog; never quite t hrows the kitchen sink in. The emotional scenes are a little over-stylised, and no one seems ever quite sure, or confident enough, to truly let themselves go. The beast isn't quite dark enough; Belle seems oddly undecided as to what characterisation what to give to herself. And as for the end...I'm not sure whether to say kop-out, or some wierd self-referential experiment.
The scenes of the house are dazzling at times, though, again (perhaps due to the budget) rather under done, underemphasised.
All told, a film more than worth seeing, and we understand why some would love this. Fur us, however, it never quite makes the leap from good cinema to the transcendental.
Saturday, 20 February 2010
Before Sunset
Not quite as good as before Sunset, feeling much more lightweight than the former, but still a perfectly fine, flighty piece.
Ethan Hawke is still annoying, Julie Delpy is still a cliche, and more than ever we have Richard Linklater delivering us half-interesting lectures through the means of completely inappropriate characterised situations. This jarred more than in Sunrise, and removes the realist aspect intended for.
Still, it's a sweet look at romance, and has beautiful moments that only the ambition of a true artist could create. We like, but with severe reservations.
Ethan Hawke is still annoying, Julie Delpy is still a cliche, and more than ever we have Richard Linklater delivering us half-interesting lectures through the means of completely inappropriate characterised situations. This jarred more than in Sunrise, and removes the realist aspect intended for.
Still, it's a sweet look at romance, and has beautiful moments that only the ambition of a true artist could create. We like, but with severe reservations.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Sous Les Bombes (Under The Bombs)
What to say of a not very good film, set and acted around an enviroment where the cinematic medium can only be inadequate to marl the horror of hat has occured? It would feel like a disparagement of the conflict and suffering of Lebanon to immediately lay into this film without first giving a strong caveat; films such as this, almost documentary-standard naturalism in an ongoing situation that should be made plain to all corners of the world, must be continued to be made. We reviewed Je Veux Voir a while back and, though that film in form was just plain wierd, the gravity of what it depicted lent it the weight of authority. This film, a poorly made and directed piece, can't quite escape its inadequacies even with the backing it has. This should make us think not a jot less of Lebanon and what occured there.
It is, compared to Je Veux Voir, a more involving film of the actual violence, showing bombs actually dropped. The demolishings and rubble though are not shot with any sense of scale, the destruction of the landscape not well rendered. It seems pathetically petty to moan that, when we see a mother grieving the loss of her children, it is acted out in an univolving and unsympathetic manner, and thus loses impact. But it does.
The camerawork is straight out of first-year-film school, and though the acting is fine it adds little to a not particularly well-paced story. The ending is an interesting twist, but a bare summary of the plot should make it far more than merely 'interesting'.
What should one do if a bad film is made of the holocaust. Is it O.K. not feel involved or sympathetic to close-to-real-life depictions of human suffering? We don't know. We do kno that this is a bad film, and that what happened in Lebanon had precisely nothing to do with what some film reviewer made of Sous Les Bombes.
It is, compared to Je Veux Voir, a more involving film of the actual violence, showing bombs actually dropped. The demolishings and rubble though are not shot with any sense of scale, the destruction of the landscape not well rendered. It seems pathetically petty to moan that, when we see a mother grieving the loss of her children, it is acted out in an univolving and unsympathetic manner, and thus loses impact. But it does.
The camerawork is straight out of first-year-film school, and though the acting is fine it adds little to a not particularly well-paced story. The ending is an interesting twist, but a bare summary of the plot should make it far more than merely 'interesting'.
What should one do if a bad film is made of the holocaust. Is it O.K. not feel involved or sympathetic to close-to-real-life depictions of human suffering? We don't know. We do kno that this is a bad film, and that what happened in Lebanon had precisely nothing to do with what some film reviewer made of Sous Les Bombes.
Before Sunrise
Charming, uneven, and a terrific idea, this early Linklater film left us thoughtful. The film slowly seeps its way into the action, the stillness and contemplation of the shots (not dramatically beautiful, or even picturesquely so, but considered) a fine counterpoint to the nature of the pleasingly realist script and mannerisms of our to performers. Few films can match this for acuteness in contemplating how people actually act around each other.
Initially, Ethan Hawke is incredibly annoying, which is partly an intentional plot device and partly just annoying. Our appreciation of him did increase throughout the film, which surely shows dept in both the direction and acting that we can applaud. By the end, we were where we perhaps were meant to be at the start, i.e. slightly fond. Julie Delpy is, of course, lovely, if occasionally, as is the case for both characters, occasionally succumbing to cultural cliches (which may be true, after all).
The dialogue is steps above banal but not exactly original (hurt by its on imitators), and clunky every now and again. Indeed, the attempts at delivering the message can be writ rather large. Then again, is that not the case when we consider our actual interaction?
What the film lacks in the kind of relaxed romance it perhaps aimed for, it makes up for by having some fine unspoken moments, movements of the sensuous romance. It was in these, able to summon up the rush of recognition in the viewer, that left it as an impression, and a longing, to discover what the film had portrayed.
Not the most perfectly executed film ever, but the plot is so intriguing, and Linklater's style so artfully balanced, that we left the film with much more than when we arrived. A low budget success, for Vienna's tourist board as much as anyone.
Initially, Ethan Hawke is incredibly annoying, which is partly an intentional plot device and partly just annoying. Our appreciation of him did increase throughout the film, which surely shows dept in both the direction and acting that we can applaud. By the end, we were where we perhaps were meant to be at the start, i.e. slightly fond. Julie Delpy is, of course, lovely, if occasionally, as is the case for both characters, occasionally succumbing to cultural cliches (which may be true, after all).
The dialogue is steps above banal but not exactly original (hurt by its on imitators), and clunky every now and again. Indeed, the attempts at delivering the message can be writ rather large. Then again, is that not the case when we consider our actual interaction?
What the film lacks in the kind of relaxed romance it perhaps aimed for, it makes up for by having some fine unspoken moments, movements of the sensuous romance. It was in these, able to summon up the rush of recognition in the viewer, that left it as an impression, and a longing, to discover what the film had portrayed.
Not the most perfectly executed film ever, but the plot is so intriguing, and Linklater's style so artfully balanced, that we left the film with much more than when we arrived. A low budget success, for Vienna's tourist board as much as anyone.
Saturday, 6 February 2010
Sin Nombre
This film is about a very interesting story, a very interesting issue and a very interesting state of life: that of central American immigrants making the journey to the United States, not entirely officially.
The film though, frankly, could be set in any situation. The actual contingencies of the train journey through Mexico and the reaching of the Texas border seem like a pretty generic backdrop to any road movie (as this kind-of-counts as). This is not a political film at all, and really focusses on the action and the characters caught up in it, the Mexican gang culture far more primary than any specific analyses of Spanish-language illegal immigrant culture. This is a little of a shame, there's an important film to be made about this subject; this general comment though shouldn't really be a criticism of the film itself, though the thought does stick in the mind.
What we have is a very sub-City of God portrait of gang culture. This is a bit cruel, it is fitting and there are some shocking realist scenes of violence. We never though felt truly part of the action, never quite got a sense of the suffocating atmosphere and visceral horror and macabre thrill of gang violence. Where the film is more succesful is in having a look at the characters caught in these spirals; they are nicely drawn, more than ciphers. The family, and the leading girl, are also competently put together.
For all this, not exacly subtle, characterisation, the jist of the film is really in the chasing of gangsters, and the love affair brewing in the centre of this. The story is handled just fine, the action, though never exactly gripping, is not overlong and generally chigs along nicely. There isn't much more to it really; it isn't particulalry well shot or profoundly handled, just a pretty standard chase.
This is an unremarkable film transported, seemingly almost accidently, into a fascinating and underused context. More films on this subject, e ask for, but there's no need to make too many like this.
The film though, frankly, could be set in any situation. The actual contingencies of the train journey through Mexico and the reaching of the Texas border seem like a pretty generic backdrop to any road movie (as this kind-of-counts as). This is not a political film at all, and really focusses on the action and the characters caught up in it, the Mexican gang culture far more primary than any specific analyses of Spanish-language illegal immigrant culture. This is a little of a shame, there's an important film to be made about this subject; this general comment though shouldn't really be a criticism of the film itself, though the thought does stick in the mind.
What we have is a very sub-City of God portrait of gang culture. This is a bit cruel, it is fitting and there are some shocking realist scenes of violence. We never though felt truly part of the action, never quite got a sense of the suffocating atmosphere and visceral horror and macabre thrill of gang violence. Where the film is more succesful is in having a look at the characters caught in these spirals; they are nicely drawn, more than ciphers. The family, and the leading girl, are also competently put together.
For all this, not exacly subtle, characterisation, the jist of the film is really in the chasing of gangsters, and the love affair brewing in the centre of this. The story is handled just fine, the action, though never exactly gripping, is not overlong and generally chigs along nicely. There isn't much more to it really; it isn't particulalry well shot or profoundly handled, just a pretty standard chase.
This is an unremarkable film transported, seemingly almost accidently, into a fascinating and underused context. More films on this subject, e ask for, but there's no need to make too many like this.
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Monkey Business
Another Marx brothers film, containing their signature archaic mixture of puns, slapstick, and physical action comedy. If not quite as intense as Duck Soup, it contains all the same familiar themes (though perhpas more of a love interest, for both Zeppo and periodically Groucho). The Brothers play well off the supporting cast, who are more than mere cyphers in this work, and the plot, deliberately hammy as it is, has a certain amount of drive. Let's see how the Brother's, individually, get on.
Chico; The punmaster, second string as a wise guy behind Groucho. Probably necessary for balance and for Harpo to play off, but rarely much entertainment on his own.
Groucho; The most modern (and famous) of the jokesters, his fast talking style is the definition of hit and miss. Physically, he is always excellent, the unexplained absurdities delightful.
Harpo; an incredible character, utterly sinister and malevolent in his mute mania. The unexplained chasing of the women is the funniest part of the production. Always a kind of sick curiousity surrounds him, Samuel Beckett is right here.
Zeppo; the pointless brother. It was likely for the best he did not feature in all the films, he truly is not able to adapt to a comic persona.
A word should also be given to the music performances, Chico's exhillarating piano and Harpo's sweetly beautiful harp, unexpected in its tenderness and given further import by its place in the otherwise most postmodern, imagistic, frenzied and kaliedoscopically inverted form of filmaking.
Again, we repeat; the Marx Brothers do not make us laugh, but the structure, the haunting chaos of the piece (wonderfully offset by the above mentioned music) leads to viewing experiences that are compelling, and stay with the viewer. True works of art.
Chico; The punmaster, second string as a wise guy behind Groucho. Probably necessary for balance and for Harpo to play off, but rarely much entertainment on his own.
Groucho; The most modern (and famous) of the jokesters, his fast talking style is the definition of hit and miss. Physically, he is always excellent, the unexplained absurdities delightful.
Harpo; an incredible character, utterly sinister and malevolent in his mute mania. The unexplained chasing of the women is the funniest part of the production. Always a kind of sick curiousity surrounds him, Samuel Beckett is right here.
Zeppo; the pointless brother. It was likely for the best he did not feature in all the films, he truly is not able to adapt to a comic persona.
A word should also be given to the music performances, Chico's exhillarating piano and Harpo's sweetly beautiful harp, unexpected in its tenderness and given further import by its place in the otherwise most postmodern, imagistic, frenzied and kaliedoscopically inverted form of filmaking.
Again, we repeat; the Marx Brothers do not make us laugh, but the structure, the haunting chaos of the piece (wonderfully offset by the above mentioned music) leads to viewing experiences that are compelling, and stay with the viewer. True works of art.
Alice in Den Stadten (Alice In The Cities)
One of the earlier Wim Wenders films, we shall be looking for the soonest opportunity to see 'Wings Of Desire' and 'Paris, Texas' as 'Alice In The Cities' is, with a few qualifications, a masterwork.
Shot in black and white, the New York scenes are closer to the reality of the city than we can remember before coming across; this combined with some audaciously exciting tracking shots along railtracks and car bumpers makes for a visually perfect film. Every location, every city or airport or car journey, is, to use an overused term, 'stunning'. The framing could not be more beautiful, the contrasts rendered are superb without being overdone, the images captured, seemingly offhand, in the iconic black and white form, are unsurpassed. In silence, this film would still make the heart stop.
And indeed there isn't a huge amount of dialogue; yet it still manages to pack in more puzzles, images and enigmatic meanings than the vast majority of films. The photographs taken, the slow realisations and epiphanies: never spelt out, never properly understood, they stand alone not as explication, but as art. The characters are, to recapitulate a point, real people, given space to breathe and never put into slots.
Perhaps it is a little long, and the narrative rather unfocused, verging on predictable. The acting, though fittinng in langurously with the aesthetic, can seems a bit '70's' (it is a 1974 movie) and mannered.
But the form of this film is such a record of excellence, the images created and the way they are put forward so purely articulated, this is a film that deserves to be returned to by every cinema fan.
Shot in black and white, the New York scenes are closer to the reality of the city than we can remember before coming across; this combined with some audaciously exciting tracking shots along railtracks and car bumpers makes for a visually perfect film. Every location, every city or airport or car journey, is, to use an overused term, 'stunning'. The framing could not be more beautiful, the contrasts rendered are superb without being overdone, the images captured, seemingly offhand, in the iconic black and white form, are unsurpassed. In silence, this film would still make the heart stop.
And indeed there isn't a huge amount of dialogue; yet it still manages to pack in more puzzles, images and enigmatic meanings than the vast majority of films. The photographs taken, the slow realisations and epiphanies: never spelt out, never properly understood, they stand alone not as explication, but as art. The characters are, to recapitulate a point, real people, given space to breathe and never put into slots.
Perhaps it is a little long, and the narrative rather unfocused, verging on predictable. The acting, though fittinng in langurously with the aesthetic, can seems a bit '70's' (it is a 1974 movie) and mannered.
But the form of this film is such a record of excellence, the images created and the way they are put forward so purely articulated, this is a film that deserves to be returned to by every cinema fan.
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