It's the return of the capsule reviews! They're just so handy. Here are some thoughts on the last five 2007 releases I've seen.
It's been a few weeks now, but the last 2007 release I saw, on DVD, was Bridge to Terabithia. Point number one. Gabor Csupo, the director, is also the man behind the Rugrats. This makes him a very important person in my childhood. Point number two. I had never heard of- and therefore never read- Katherine Paterson's book on which the film is based. These points have no connection and no real bearing on anything, but I just thought I'd mention them. As for the film itself: I really liked it. It's not a film of particular technical finesse (the special effects are awful, but they're also unimportant, unless of course you're the marketing people...) or great revelation, and some of the scripting seems rather simplistic and trite (particularly the school scenes), but it's remarkably affecting and the central relationship, which is the entire basis of the entire film, is so well acted by Josh Hutcherson and AnnaSophia Robb (whose smile will probably literally kill men when she's older) and so charmingly done (and heartbreakingly broken) that it just makes the heart beam. This might be overly generous, but it's a B+.
It's also a B+ for Black Snake Moan, which is so deliriously absurd it all its off-kilter shots at convention that it's hard not to admire it. Every time I thought the film was heading into cliched, obvious territory, it seemed to take a sudden swerve in a direction I didn't know existed. Its addressing of issues of race and sexuality are at first so blatantly transparent that it seems the film is going nowhere; but it subverts everything, finds new depths in old cliches, and does so with such panache and vibrancy that I just found it rather bewitching. And its good to see Christina Ricci in a strong, challenging role again.
Cate Blanchett, though, finds herself in more familiar territory with Elizabeth: The Golden Age, for which Nick Davis has written such a hilarious, deliciously-constructed putdown that it hardly seems worth chucking in my own piece. But suffice to say, Elizabeth has the gloss, but it is, literally, all surface- poke it, and it shatters. So Elizabeth wore an enormous gardenia for a hat: so what? Director Shekhar Kapur presents all the requisite events of Elizabeth's 'golden age' (as you might expect), but there's nothing in them- no life, no impact, no emotion, no purpose. It's just a story. No one seems to care about it, except to dress it up in pretty clothes and either yell, giggle or whisper at you. It's a C- from me, and most of that grade was earned by the stone walls. Oh, and Samantha Morton.
Once was too a disappointment, though in a markedly different way. I by no means hated the film; I was charmed by the music and the central relationship, but after hearing such great things about the film, I couldn't help expecting a little more. It's one of those films where the two characters don't have names- they're simply 'guy' and 'girl'. And it's not like we don't find out anything about their lives- we go to their homes, meet their families, see their jobs. I don't know what it lacked for me. But there was something missing. I'll get back to you if I figure out what it was, but, for now, it's a (still) tentative B.
And, furthest back in time, we have the rather terrific documentary Deep Water, which screened on tv over here, and concerns the tragic events of one of the entrants of the 1968 round-the-world yacht race. What was great about the film, I feel, was how it kept a superb balance between the central figure of the film and the other entrants- they weren't ignored, forgotten about, simply because they survived. Deep Water, less than focusing on just the one man who died, is concerned with the effect of the 'deep water' on all the entrants, how it affected them all differently. The film is also beautifully narrated by Tilda Swinton, superbly scored, and mixes in some more artistic effects rather well. B+.
That's all for now, folks. Come back soon when uni is done and I'll actually have time to go to the cinema.
Showing posts with label Tilda Swinton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tilda Swinton. Show all posts
Friday, November 30, 2007
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Say it again...
Tilda Swinton's narration was hardly the most important aspect of the rather terrific Deep Water, but... can someone please sign her up to read books-on-tape or something? Her voice is perfect: smooth, enrapturing, and kinda unnerving. Which is just what I want in my narrators.
More later, including a full review (gasp!) of Control.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
The B Phenomenon
Hello there. Long time no see. That's what having no internet where I live and being rather apathetic about film does to me. But, now both situations have been rectified, and I am happy to say I'm back! How happy that makes you is a different matter. Anyway. I was studying my sidebar (as you do) and noticed a strange thing: almost every grade I've given out recently, with the exception of yet another viewing of David Lean's Brief Encounter- which, despite seeming hilarious when I think about it (oh, those children; no, dear, there aren't any pantomimes in June), is really rather affecting when you experience it, and there's no doubting it's stylistically masterful- was either a B-, a B, or a B+. Of course, this doesn't really mean anything, except that I've managed to avoid watching crap recently, but it makes a nice segway into some short little reviews to get this blog rolling again.
Michael Clayton (Gilroy, 2007): Highly polished, adult and compulsive, Michael Clayton seems better than it is while you're watching it; reflection points out the cracks, and time makes you wonder what the film actually does at all. Excellent performances from George Clooney, Tom Wilkinson and particularly a panicked Tilda Swinton (kudos for casting her in a major Hollywood flick) are really the only things that mark the film out in my memory; the plot, complex and rabbity as it was, seems largely ineffectual, and the ending is either unnervingly fitting or a damb squid. B-
A Mighty Heart (Winterbottom, 2007): A Mighty Heart perhaps had the exact opposite effect to Michael Clayton; on reflection, it seems more cleverly constructed, more powerful, than it did while I was watching it. Seeing Angelina Jolie- by the way superbly believable and quietly powerful throughout- as Mariane Pearl, literally screaming her guts out when she discovers her husband's fate, is of course galling, but all the crafty little narrative threads and quiet moments last too; and ultimately this is a low-key but important, and finally hopeful, piece of superb work. B+
It's A Free World (Loach, 2007): Loach's film, made for the UK's Channel 4, is as timely and shattering as ever; the subject of immigration is particularly hot here right now, and Loach, along with screenwriter Paul Laverty, play this very coolly: central character Angie (newcomer Kierston Wareing in a superb performance) is both the villain and the heroine. The trouble is, the construction of the plot around her is rather familiar: she needs to do what she does because she was fired and needs to support her son, who lives with his grandparents- and so her sympathetic side seems so lame and done that the entire film would fall in on itself without Wareing holding it up. Loach's sense of realism (most of the cast are non-actors) is ever present but he can't help but succumb to formuliac structures. B-
Rendition (Hood, 2007): I think it's easy to overlook this film's strong points in favour of damning it for the admittedly simplistic arguments it sometimes puts across. As I watched this, conscious beforehand of the criticisms the film had been attacked with, I tried to work it out: is this ever justified? How would you feel if this man really was guilty? Would the fact that he was mean the way this information is achieved any less horrific? To its credit, and yet also to its detriment, Rendition covers all bases- and, as that comment implies, this means Rendition can never win. Surely, if the film had squarely taken one side, it would have been catcalled for doing so; and yet, objective as it tries to remain, it cannot escape criticism for exactly that. Yes, the entire thing is almost cheapened by a last act, audience-pandering twist that really doesn't matter- but the film is well crafted enough, thought provoking enough, and powerful enough (Reese Witherspoon is particularly strong) that I would still recommend it. B-
Michael Clayton (Gilroy, 2007): Highly polished, adult and compulsive, Michael Clayton seems better than it is while you're watching it; reflection points out the cracks, and time makes you wonder what the film actually does at all. Excellent performances from George Clooney, Tom Wilkinson and particularly a panicked Tilda Swinton (kudos for casting her in a major Hollywood flick) are really the only things that mark the film out in my memory; the plot, complex and rabbity as it was, seems largely ineffectual, and the ending is either unnervingly fitting or a damb squid. B-A Mighty Heart (Winterbottom, 2007): A Mighty Heart perhaps had the exact opposite effect to Michael Clayton; on reflection, it seems more cleverly constructed, more powerful, than it did while I was watching it. Seeing Angelina Jolie- by the way superbly believable and quietly powerful throughout- as Mariane Pearl, literally screaming her guts out when she discovers her husband's fate, is of course galling, but all the crafty little narrative threads and quiet moments last too; and ultimately this is a low-key but important, and finally hopeful, piece of superb work. B+
It's A Free World (Loach, 2007): Loach's film, made for the UK's Channel 4, is as timely and shattering as ever; the subject of immigration is particularly hot here right now, and Loach, along with screenwriter Paul Laverty, play this very coolly: central character Angie (newcomer Kierston Wareing in a superb performance) is both the villain and the heroine. The trouble is, the construction of the plot around her is rather familiar: she needs to do what she does because she was fired and needs to support her son, who lives with his grandparents- and so her sympathetic side seems so lame and done that the entire film would fall in on itself without Wareing holding it up. Loach's sense of realism (most of the cast are non-actors) is ever present but he can't help but succumb to formuliac structures. B-
Rendition (Hood, 2007): I think it's easy to overlook this film's strong points in favour of damning it for the admittedly simplistic arguments it sometimes puts across. As I watched this, conscious beforehand of the criticisms the film had been attacked with, I tried to work it out: is this ever justified? How would you feel if this man really was guilty? Would the fact that he was mean the way this information is achieved any less horrific? To its credit, and yet also to its detriment, Rendition covers all bases- and, as that comment implies, this means Rendition can never win. Surely, if the film had squarely taken one side, it would have been catcalled for doing so; and yet, objective as it tries to remain, it cannot escape criticism for exactly that. Yes, the entire thing is almost cheapened by a last act, audience-pandering twist that really doesn't matter- but the film is well crafted enough, thought provoking enough, and powerful enough (Reese Witherspoon is particularly strong) that I would still recommend it. B-
Monday, September 11, 2006
The Deep End, Light in the Piazza and Snow Cake
Some thoughts on recent viewings:
[The Deep End (Scott McGehee & David Siegel, 2001): A remake of Max Ophuls' 1949 film The Reckless Moment, this alternative version of Elisabeth Sanxay Holding's novel of secrets and blackmail is clearly aiming for the type of feeling I love in my thrillers: slow-burning, gradually created thrills. But the story seems so predictable, and the characters so trite, that it's difficult to get involved. Tilda Swinton gives a solid, if frosty performance as a mother who is desperate to hide her oldest son's budding homosexuality, an aim made difficult when his lover (a short role for an impressively creepy Josh Lucas) is accidentally killed at their lake-side Taho home, and then a blackmailer (Goran Visnjic) turns up with a tape showing the pair en flagrante and a demand of $50,000. McGehee and Siegel draw an impressive desperation in Swinton's attempts to balance the demands of this blackmailing and Visnjic's increasing attention to her with the day-to-day tasks of a mother, but the thriller elements of the film fail on almost every count, and it's not helped at all by the story's strong inclinations towards romantic attraction between Swinton and Visnjic. There's a surprisingly engaging performance from young Jonathan Tucker as the aforementioned son, but the story never has a strong enough pull and the cast don't seem to be able to overcome it. McGehee and Siegel fared much better four years later with their enormously underrated Bee Season, which also turned it's attentions towards family life but was thankfully free of any attempts to thrill. Grade: C+]
[Light in the Piazza (Guy Green, 1962): This adaptation of Elisabeth Spencer's book is a strange concuction, framing it's entire story on an accident we never witness and then almost refusing to answer it's implications at all. An weary-looking Olivia de Havilland is fantastic as Meg Johnston, a wealthy American staying in Florence with her daughter Clara (Yvette Mimieux), whom she has taken away from the distractions of American boys because, as we quickly discover, Clara fell off her pony at a young age and is stuck with the mental age of 10. Nevertheless, her natural beauty soon attracts the attentions of a wealthy local boy, played by the much derided American George Hamilton in a highly convincing performance (complete with accent), and they fall in love. Meg is, of course, worried about this development, but, as she begins to see the possible realisation of her fantasy for her daughter, she stumbles and is reluctant to force them apart. This little seen film clearly wants you to embed yourself in it's more unusual dramatic elements, and indeed, interludes like the visit of Clara's father show us the darker effects of Clara's mental state, but ultimately it's just a sweet little romance and on this level, it succeeds. Mimieux and Hamilton make a charming pairing and it's almost impossible not to get swept up in the situation, especially with such a talent as de Hallivand to keep you watching. Perhaps the ultimate glossing over of what was for most of the film the central dilemma is a bit worrying, but this a pleasant, nicely shot and well performed film that would serve well for a Saturday afternoon. Grade: B-]
[Snow Cake (Marc Evans, 2006): This effort from Welsh director Marc Evans was financed entirely by the UK and Canada, and this low-budget, under-the-radar situation is perhaps, and unfortunately, going to lead to the overlooking of it's star Sigourney Weaver once again come awards season. This film rests pretty much on her shoulders, as she beautifully plays autistic woman Linda Freeman, whose response to a consolation on her daughter's death is a straightforward "I haven't lost her, she's dead", shocking the woman who offered this softened apology in the first place. Ostentatiously, I suppose, Snow Cake is about Alex Hughes, played by a subdued and uneven Alan Rickman, who was giving Linda's daughter (a bright Emily Hampshire) a lift when a truck hits the car and kills her but leaves him virtually unmarked. His guilt leads him to her mother's home, where her offbeat approach to human engagement leads to him staying with her until after the funeral. The film's strenght comes in the relationship between Weaver and Rickman, which, due to Linda's autism is constantly surprising and unpredictable, and often remarkably charming (in scenes such as Linda's "comic-book Scrabble"). Evans, or rather screenwriter Angela Pell trips herself up with an unnecessary subplot involving Rickman's involvement with Weaver's neighbour Carrie-Anne Moss (in a pleasant and natural but totally unneeded performance), and with the revelations involving Rickman's damaged past, but Weaver's performance is a marvel and alone makes the film worth the price of admission. Given a more approachable form of autism than Dustin Hoffman's famous role, she could easily coast through the role, but each moment is invested with a weighty darkness, unlikely coupled with a delightful child-like exterior. Grade: B]
[The Deep End (Scott McGehee & David Siegel, 2001): A remake of Max Ophuls' 1949 film The Reckless Moment, this alternative version of Elisabeth Sanxay Holding's novel of secrets and blackmail is clearly aiming for the type of feeling I love in my thrillers: slow-burning, gradually created thrills. But the story seems so predictable, and the characters so trite, that it's difficult to get involved. Tilda Swinton gives a solid, if frosty performance as a mother who is desperate to hide her oldest son's budding homosexuality, an aim made difficult when his lover (a short role for an impressively creepy Josh Lucas) is accidentally killed at their lake-side Taho home, and then a blackmailer (Goran Visnjic) turns up with a tape showing the pair en flagrante and a demand of $50,000. McGehee and Siegel draw an impressive desperation in Swinton's attempts to balance the demands of this blackmailing and Visnjic's increasing attention to her with the day-to-day tasks of a mother, but the thriller elements of the film fail on almost every count, and it's not helped at all by the story's strong inclinations towards romantic attraction between Swinton and Visnjic. There's a surprisingly engaging performance from young Jonathan Tucker as the aforementioned son, but the story never has a strong enough pull and the cast don't seem to be able to overcome it. McGehee and Siegel fared much better four years later with their enormously underrated Bee Season, which also turned it's attentions towards family life but was thankfully free of any attempts to thrill. Grade: C+]
[Light in the Piazza (Guy Green, 1962): This adaptation of Elisabeth Spencer's book is a strange concuction, framing it's entire story on an accident we never witness and then almost refusing to answer it's implications at all. An weary-looking Olivia de Havilland is fantastic as Meg Johnston, a wealthy American staying in Florence with her daughter Clara (Yvette Mimieux), whom she has taken away from the distractions of American boys because, as we quickly discover, Clara fell off her pony at a young age and is stuck with the mental age of 10. Nevertheless, her natural beauty soon attracts the attentions of a wealthy local boy, played by the much derided American George Hamilton in a highly convincing performance (complete with accent), and they fall in love. Meg is, of course, worried about this development, but, as she begins to see the possible realisation of her fantasy for her daughter, she stumbles and is reluctant to force them apart. This little seen film clearly wants you to embed yourself in it's more unusual dramatic elements, and indeed, interludes like the visit of Clara's father show us the darker effects of Clara's mental state, but ultimately it's just a sweet little romance and on this level, it succeeds. Mimieux and Hamilton make a charming pairing and it's almost impossible not to get swept up in the situation, especially with such a talent as de Hallivand to keep you watching. Perhaps the ultimate glossing over of what was for most of the film the central dilemma is a bit worrying, but this a pleasant, nicely shot and well performed film that would serve well for a Saturday afternoon. Grade: B-]
[Snow Cake (Marc Evans, 2006): This effort from Welsh director Marc Evans was financed entirely by the UK and Canada, and this low-budget, under-the-radar situation is perhaps, and unfortunately, going to lead to the overlooking of it's star Sigourney Weaver once again come awards season. This film rests pretty much on her shoulders, as she beautifully plays autistic woman Linda Freeman, whose response to a consolation on her daughter's death is a straightforward "I haven't lost her, she's dead", shocking the woman who offered this softened apology in the first place. Ostentatiously, I suppose, Snow Cake is about Alex Hughes, played by a subdued and uneven Alan Rickman, who was giving Linda's daughter (a bright Emily Hampshire) a lift when a truck hits the car and kills her but leaves him virtually unmarked. His guilt leads him to her mother's home, where her offbeat approach to human engagement leads to him staying with her until after the funeral. The film's strenght comes in the relationship between Weaver and Rickman, which, due to Linda's autism is constantly surprising and unpredictable, and often remarkably charming (in scenes such as Linda's "comic-book Scrabble"). Evans, or rather screenwriter Angela Pell trips herself up with an unnecessary subplot involving Rickman's involvement with Weaver's neighbour Carrie-Anne Moss (in a pleasant and natural but totally unneeded performance), and with the revelations involving Rickman's damaged past, but Weaver's performance is a marvel and alone makes the film worth the price of admission. Given a more approachable form of autism than Dustin Hoffman's famous role, she could easily coast through the role, but each moment is invested with a weighty darkness, unlikely coupled with a delightful child-like exterior. Grade: B]
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