This, That, and Other Bits and Bobs

Waterland (1983)

2008-08-16T15:35:00.003+01:00

Author: Graham Swift

I think that it’s a given that we are the sum of our own experiences. But, of course, we are also dependent to some degree on our parents’ experiences, without which we would not have gotten our start in life, and by which we are heavily influenced in our early years. And thus they were dependent upon their parents’ experiences, and, consequently, so are we. Also, we are the sum of our parent’s genes, and they of their parents’ genes, and so on, ad infinitum. And so, if all the above is true, then at birth a great deal of who we are has already been decided: who we will be, what we will do, what we are capable of. Then we must be more than just a sentient individual; we are part of, and are the sum of, something much greater. Graham Swift uses this concept to explain to us how the first appearance of pre-historic man in the Fens on the east coast of England will eventually lead to a middle-aged man, a retiring history teacher, the husband of a baby snatcher, how it will eventually lead to him addressing, one final time, his beloved pupils.

And so it begins - ‘ And don’t forget,’ my father would say, as if he expected me at any moment to up and leave to seek my fortune in the wide world, ‘whatever you learn about people, however bad they turn out, each one of them was once a tiny baby sucking his mother’s milk…’ - at the end, looking back. Tom Crick, history teacher, storyteller, Fenlander, narrates us through the story of his life, and his parents’ lives, and their parents’ lives, and… Epic, thoroughly detailed, masterful, compelling, brilliant; we are gripped from that baby’s first nibble. He paints a picture of this flat, desperate place - the Fens - of growing up, of adolescent sexual curiosity, of jealousy, of murder, of incest. And further back he goes, to the dawn of time, and back again; back and forth, forth and back. He dips in and out of his life, and his ancestors' lives, contrasting the phlegmatic ambitionless Cricks with the ceaseless aspirations of the Atkinsons. And then they meet, two contrasting families, and he is begotten.

One might argue that we didn’t really need to know about the quest to discover the mating habits of the common Eel, but it all finally makes sense. It all manages to nit together. It finally makes sense that a middle-aged retiring history teacher, a man who’s life has completely fallen apart, a man who has been undone by his experiences and his genes, and his ancestors’ experiences and genes, that this broken man would stand up in front of a hall full of children and his fellow teachers and speak of the French revolution and the end of the world; that silt, and sluice gates, and strong ales, and fires, and elections, and wars, and God, that all these things and many more would indicate the relevance and importance of history. A masterpiece.
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Trainspotting (1993)

2008-08-16T14:17:00.001+01:00

Author: Irvine Welsh

A person without hope is little more than an animal. With no ability to see the future, the present is all that there is. There are no rules. The word consequence is not in their vocabulary. Theft, violence, drugs (legal and illegal), casual sex; when there is no tomorrow, anything goes. Irvine Welsh’s first novel, set in Leith, Edinburgh, explores these hopeless lives in all their grimy detail.

Marketed as a novel, Trainspotting is essentially a collection of short stories, each loosely connected by location and common character. The majority of the stories are narrated by one or other of the myriad of troubled characters that inhabit Welsh’s world. With that in mind, the author has written these vignettes in an Edinburgh variety of Scots, which may cause problems to the untrained ear (eye.) I , personally, had little trouble with the language, as I have a number of relatives from Scotland, and grew up listening to these words; although, at first it was a little jarring to see them written down. But once I found my Edinburgh voice it was a delight to read.

The most featured character, and the only one with whom all the other characters have a common connection is Mark Renton, affectionately known as Rents or Rent Boy to his friends, a young man blessed with more intelligence than most (not that it seems to have done him much good), who finds life with and without heroin barely tolerable. One suspects that he prefers life on heroin, as a heroin addict has but one worry, albeit a great one, namely the procurement of heroin. When off the skag (heroin) he has to worry about dealing with family and friends, his re-awakened sex-drive, the ageing power of make-up, his soap-dodging, Hun Weedje relatives (loyalist Glaswegians), and the Hibbies, amongst other things. His is a life of wasted potential.

The most likeable character in the book is Daniel Murphy, better known as Spud, a man that, although greatly effected by his surroundings, (he is a heroin addict and petty thief), has not been stripped of his humanity. He abhors the casual violence that his friends commit towards animals and their fellow Leithians, but he tolerates it; He has no choice, this is where he lives, this is who he is, this is his lot in life. Spud provides the heart of the novel.

After the brains of Renton and the heart of Spud, comes the brawn of Francis Franco Begbie, an ultra-violent heed-the-ball, and the sex of Simon Sick Boy Williamson, a handsome young man who could charm the knickers off of a nun. Franco prides himself on being there for his mates, that is, as long as he can use violence to remedy any problems that you might have. If your problems extend beyond pub brawls, he’ll be nowhere to be seen. For Sick Boy, friends are merely people to have a quick drink with in-between sexual conquests.

The other characters, too numerous to list, include: addicts, dealers, sexually precocious 14-year-olds, HIV sufferers, prostitutes, students, benefit-scammers, alcoholics, dead babies, racists and rapists. They all share one thing in common, a lack of hope. They are born into a world in which unemployment, violence and addiction are the norm; a world in which HIV and AIDS, something that quietly haunts nearly every page of this novel, is not feared as a possibility, but merely acknowledged, accepted even, as something of an inevitability. These people never had a chance.ss808

9 Songs (2004)

2008-08-16T12:06:00.001+01:00

Writer/Director: Michael Winterbottom
Cinematographer: Marcel Zyskind
Cast: Kieran O'Brien, Margo Stilley

Michael Winterbottom, the most prolific and wildly inconsistent of British filmmakers, has produced a Daily Mail-bating film about a fleeting romance, depicted entirely through sex, drugs and rock n’ roll. Whilst one can’t help but admire its concept, (after watching the only-slightly-cheesy trailer, I was actually quite looking forward to seeing it), one also can’t help but feel utter disappointment at its realisation.

The dialogue was mostly improvised, and it shows. Now, while one would expect banal conversations between such vapid characters as these, should we not expect more enlightening exchanges than the following?
- You look like a gangster like that.
- I'm trying to look like a gangster.
-You look ugly.
- I'm trying to look ugly.
And that is probably something of a highlight.

The couple in question are Englishmen Matt (Cracker’s son, Kieran O'Brien), who has some kind of scientific job that is completely at odds with his coke-snorting, chain-smoking persona, and American Lisa (the slightly annoying Margo Stilley), who has a childlike way about her that, when combined with her boyish, underdeveloped body, disturbs somewhat when we see her having sex; she is described as being 21, but acts much younger. We witness their relationship through the concerts that they visit (the 9 songs of the title), the drugs they take, the sex that they have (which is explicitly shown), and the excruciatingly dull conversations that they babble.

The main action is interspersed with footage of Matt in Antarctica, whose terribly cheesy voice-over (underscored by horribly sentimental music by Michael Nyman) fills in the gaps left by the bonking. Although none of it is particularly interesting. The sex itself is shot, for the most part, sensibly and sensitively in a low-key manner. But when the young couple discover bondage, and Lisa takes to saying things like “I want you to fuck me” and “fuck me harder”, we enter territory that is somewhere between 1970s Euro-erotica and cheap internet porn, and it becomes almost unwatchable; one doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The film’s one saving grace is the concert footage, shot from low angles within the crowd, avoiding any vaguely ostentatious shots, it has a raw power that is quite enticing. However the choice of songs are something of a mixed bag, with some of them sounding, to my ears, like tuneless noise. C'mon C'mon by The Von Bondies though, is a particular highlight.vv686

Billy Wilder - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-08-15T12:46:00.006+01:00

Billy Wilder’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

Battleship Potemkin (Sergei M. Eisenstein, 1925)
Greed (Erich von Stroheim, 1924)
Variety (Ewald André Dupont, 1925)
The Gold Rush (Charles Chaplin, 1925)
The Crowd (King Vidor, 1928)
La grande illusion (Jean Renoir, 1937)
The Informer (John Ford, 1935)
Ninotchka (Ernst Lubitsch, 1939)
The Best Years of Our Lives (William Wyler, 1946)
Bicycle Thieves (Vittorio De Sica, 1948)
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Orson Welles - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-08-15T12:35:00.002+01:00

Orson Welles’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

City Lights (Charles Chaplin, 1931)
Greed (Erich von Stroheim, 1924)
Intolerance (D.W. Griffith, 1916)
Nanook of the North (Robert J. Flaherty, 1922)
Shoe-Shine (Vittorio De Sica, 1946)
Battleship Potemkin (Sergei M. Eisenstein, 1925)
La femme du boulanger (Marcel Pagnol, 1938)
La grande illusion (Jean Renoir, 1937)
Stagecoach (John Ford, 1939)
Our Daily Bread (King Vidor, 1934)

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Luchino Visconti - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-08-15T12:24:00.004+01:00

Luchino Visconti’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

La grande illusion (Jean Renoir, 1937)
Greed (Erich von Stroheim, 1924)
Battleship Potemkin (Sergei M. Eisenstein, 1925)
Que viva Mexico! (Sergei M. Eisenstein, 1932)
Hallelujah! (King Vidor, 1929)
Stagecoach (John Ford, 1939)
Monsieur Verdoux (Charles Chaplin, 1947)
Tabu (F.W. Murnau, 1931)
The Lost Weekend (Billy Wilder, 1945)
Les enfants du paradis (Marcel Carné, 1945)

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King Vidor - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-08-15T12:02:00.003+01:00

King Vidor’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

Intolerance (D.W. Griffith, 1916)
Sunrise (F.W. Murnau, 1927)
The Last Laugh (F.W. Murnau, 1924)
The Big Parade (King Vidor, 1925)
Brief Encounter (David Lean, 1945)
The Red Shoes (Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger, 1948)
Rome, Open City (Roberto Rossellini, 1945)
City Lights (Charles Chaplin, 1931)
Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941)
The Best Years of Our Lives (William Wyler, 1946)

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Carol Reed - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-08-15T11:51:00.003+01:00

Carol Reed’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

City Lights (Charles Chaplin, 1931)
Ninotchka (Ernst Lubitsch, 1939)
Les enfants du paradis (Marcel Carné, 1945)
Gone with the Wind (Victor Fleming, 1939)
La ronde (Max Ophüls, 1950)
All Quiet On the Western Front (Lewis Milestone, 1930)
La kermesse heroique (Jacques Feyder, 1935)
Variety (Ewald André Dupont, 1925)
La femme du boulanger (Marcel Pagnol, 1938)
Pygmalion (Anthony Asquith, 1938)

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David Lean - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-08-15T11:39:00.003+01:00

David Lean’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

Intolerance (D.W. Griffith, 1916)
Variety (Ewald André Dupont, 1925)
The Crowd (King Vidor, 1928)
City Lights (Charles Chaplin, 1931)
White Shadows (Graham Cutts, 1923)
À nous la liberté (René Clair1931)
La grande illusion (Jean Renoir, 1937)
Les enfants du paradis (Marcel Carné, 1945)
Le jour se lève (Marcel Carné, 1939)
Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941)

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Elia Kazan - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-08-15T11:26:00.004+01:00

Elia Kazan’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

Battleship Potemkin (Sergei M. Eisenstein, 1925)
Aerograd (Aleksandr Dovzhenko, 1935)
The Gold Rush (Charles Chaplin, 1925)
Flesh and the Devil (Clarence Brown, 1926)
Rome, Open City (Roberto Rossellini, 1945)
Bicycle Thieves (Vittorio De Sica, 1948)
Shoulder Arms (Charles Chaplin, 1918)
Target for Tonight (Harry Watt, 1941)
La femme de boulanger (Marcel Pagnol, 1948)
Marius, Fanny, César (Marcel Pagnol, 1931, 1933, 1936)

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Vittorio De Sica - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-08-15T11:11:00.006+01:00

Vittorio De Sica’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

Man of Aran (Robert J. Flaherty, 1934)
The Kid (Charles Chaplin, 1921)
La chienne (Jean Renoir, 1931)
Le million (René Clair, 1931)
L’atalante (Jean Vigo, 1934)
Kameradschaft (Georg Wilhelm Pabst, 1931)
Storm Over Asia (Vsevolod Pudovkin, 1928)
Battleship Potemkin (Sergei M. Eisenstein, 1925)
Hallelujah! (King Vidor, 1929)
La kermesse heroique (Jacques Feyder, 1935)

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Auf Wiedersehen, Pet - Series 2 - 4 & the Special

2008-08-09T07:29:00.021+01:00

Series 2 (1986)
Cast: Jimmy Nail, Timothy Spall, Tim Healy, Kevin Whately, Pat Roach, Gary Holton, Christopher Fairbank, Julia Tobin, Val McLane, Bill Paterson, Lesley Saint-John, Melanie Hill, Bryan Pringle, James Booth

The Magnificent Seven are reunited, first to redevelop Barry’s marital home before his impending nuptials, then to convert a country manor house into an old people’s home in Derbyshire, before finally arriving in Spain to work on a gangster’s villa.

This second series lacks the gritty, mundane reality of the first series. Everything is much broader, more expansive. Plots are packed and sensational and are dotted with gangsters and prison breaks and showdowns. It lacks the credibility of the first series, but what it lacks in credibility it makes up for in pure entertainment with the more outlandish elements being grounded somewhat by the still excellent dialogue. The biggest weakness of this second series, though, is its depiction of the idle-rich, most of whom come across as little more than caricatures.

Series 3 (2002)
Cast: Jimmy Nail, Timothy Spall, Tim Healy, Kevin Whately, Pat Roach, Christopher Fairbank, Noel Clarke, Bill Nighy, Branka Katic, Dragan Micanovic, Michael Angelis, John Kazek, Gordon Tootoosis, Emily Bruni

Do people Change? That appears to be the subject of this disappointing third series. At first everyone appears to have changed, most notably Barry, who is now a Bentley-driving successful businessman. But people don’t change, circumstances change. As old circumstances return, so do the old people. Take Barry out of the mansion and return him to the hut, and so returns the bumbling radish we first met 20 years earlier.

The action of this third series revolves around the taking down of the Middlesbrough Transporter Bridge and its re-erection on an Indian reservation in Arizona. Long gone is the social commentary and gallows humour of the first series. Also nowhere to be seen is the leisurely pace of the first two series. There was perhaps, a potentially entertaining series here if it had been allowed to breathe a little; too much happens in too short a space of time; with a run of 13 episodes, like the first two series, then who knows? There is also something of a condescending air to a lot of it, but, of course, there are also some cracking one-liners.

Series 4 (2004)
Cast: Jimmy Nail, Timothy Spall, Tim Healy, Kevin Whately, Pat Roach, Christopher Fairbank, Noel Clarke, Sandra James-Young, Caroline Harker, Alexander Hanson, Josefina Gabrielle, Javier Alcina

A notable improvement on the third series, despite being even more outlandish and less-credible than before. The boys are now working in Cuba redeveloping the British ambassador’s house. The plot involves Spies, Manchester United shirts, hamster roulette and ballerinas, and is seldom credible but always entertaining. It is also the most visually striking of the four series.

Why aye man it‘s Wyman’s mam, man.

The Special (2004)
Cast: Jimmy Nail, Timothy Spall, Tim Healy, Kevin Whately, Christopher Fairbank, Noel Clarke, Branka Katic, Alexander Hanson, Pornchai Tipol

Auf Wiedersehen, Pet has now travelled about as far from its origins as it possibly could (geographically and artistically.) Any pretence of social commentary has long-since vanished, but it has just about managed to maintain its entertainment value. This final instalment, now without Pat Roach as well as Gary Holton who died during the second series, revolves around the kidnapping of Barry by dispossessed Laosan villagers, and the subsequent rescue attempt. The increasing incredulity the Auf Pet team’s adventures is now, perhaps, one of its minor joys.
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Auf Wiedersehen, Pet - Series 1 (1983)

2008-08-04T12:39:00.009+01:00

Cast: Jimmy Nail, Timothy Spall, Tim Healy, Kevin Whately, Pat Roach, Gary Holton, Christopher Fairbank, Michael Sheard, Peter Birch, Brigitte Kahn, Caroline Hutchison, Julia Tobin, Su Elliot, Michael Elphick

1982. Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister. Unemployment had topped 3 million, and accounted for about 15% of the populace of most northern towns. There was an economic recession. Industry was being “restructured”. Things looked bleak. Cue Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais to brighten up our lives. But they didn’t do it by escaping from the realities of the time, on the contrary, they mined those desperate days for all their blackly comic worth, and consequently highlighted the plight of the working man. Much like Alan Bleasdale did with Boys from the Blackstuff (1982), Clement and La Frenais mixed gallows humour with human drama to paint a picture of the state of the nation, but on this occasion, they did it whilst setting the action in Germany.

We follow seven building workers from the dole cues of Newcastle, Liverpool, West Bromwich, London and Bristol to the tax-free building sites of Germany, in this case, Düsseldorf, a bleak urban area filled with porn theatres and beer kellers, where the sun never shines. Dennis (Tim Healy), Neville (Kevin Whately) and Oz (Jimmy Nail) are from Newcastle. Dennis exudes authority, so much so, and much to his chagrin, the others all bring their problems to him, and problems are something that he is not short of himself, notably his complicated divorce from Vera (Caroline Hutchinson), and his relationship with the German, Dagmar (Brigitte Kahn). In the final episode he uses a building metaphor to describe his relationship problems to his workmates that is devastatingly brilliant. Neville is young and is spending time away from his wife, Brenda (Julia Tobin), for the first time. Being away from home is a painful, but necessary, sacrifice for him, as strives to save enough money for a house on a nice estate. Oz is the complete opposite of Neville; he is there to have a good time, visit a few brothels, and piss his wages against a wall; he has no intention of sending money back to his wife and young child (whose age he can’t remember.)

Barry (Timothy Spall) is from West Bromwich (the former captain of the West Bromwich and District Sunday Methodist Table Tennis League), he is regarded as a radish, as boring, but his only real crime is that his interests stretch beyond womanising and binge-drinking; he is slightly naïve, and lacks confidence around members of the opposite sex (in fact he could have been based on me, if not for the fact that I was six or seven years old at the time.) Bomber (Pat Roach) is a hulking giant of a man from a Bristol, but a generally gentle one at that. He describes himself as being daft as a brush, and on occasion, does indeed over-indulge in drink, gambling and prostitutes. Wayne (Gary Holton), a wiry, blue-haired Londoner, spends his time chasing young fräuleins and washing his hair. And finally, there is Liverpudlian Moxey (Christopher Fairbank), a scrawny, perpetually ill plasterer with a dartboard.

There is no real, over-arching storyline, with each episode having its own fully realised plot. Having said that, the story (wonderful as so many of them are) is never really as important as other elements, such as the brilliantly drawn and fleshed out characters, and the way that they interact with each other in such humorous and credible ways; and the dialogue is constantly excellent (particularly anything delivered in that beautiful, melodic, Scandinavian-sounding, Geordie accent.) The characters all feel like real, rounded human beings. Despite their many failings - sexism, racism, over-indulgence, etc. - we come to care for them. They have become real people.yy353

Perfect Strangers (2001)

2008-08-02T13:19:00.010+01:00

Writer/Director: Stephen Poliakoff
Cinematographer: Cinders Forshaw
Composer: Adrian Johnston
Cast: Michael Gambon, Lindsay Duncan, Matthew Macfadyen, Claire Skinner, Toby Stephens, Jill Baker, Timothy Spall

There is a scene towards the middle of Stephen Poliakoff’s occasionally brilliant, but generally uneven mini-series, in which the main character, Daniel (Matthew Macfadyen), relays a story to his father, Raymond (Michael Gambon), whom every so often paraphrases what he has just been told. The purpose of this? It doesn’t seem particularly credible of his character. There’s no real expository function (except maybe for the dimmest of viewers.) Could it have been for promotional means? (I must admit that I don’t remember seeing any of the trailers at the time.) Could these bite-sized chunks of story have been created solely for the purpose of selling itself? Possibly, but there does seem to be a certain condescending air to a lot of what we see; a feeling of dumbing down. The film doesn’t have that unapologetically uncompromising attitude that most great art has.

Not that I didn’t enjoy it mind, especially on the first viewing when my misgivings were much slighter (Adrian Johnston’s score is perhaps a tad over-insistent.) On first viewing I was swept along by the story telling, compelled to find out what related to whom, who did what to whom, and how it would all finally fit together. The action revolves around a family reunion at a swanky London hotel; a propertied, monied and distinguished family. Family dinners, family trees, slide shows, any excuse to tell another yarn. We are treated to story after story: a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Jewish girl evades the Nazis; feral children live wild in the woods during the war; a favourite child becomes mentally ill, secret loves are discovered. And then in the present; cousins kiss and Jack Hawkins movies are watched, secrets are spilled and lies are rebuffed, and sins are (maybe?) atoned for

If one allows oneself to be swept along by the wonder of discovery and the joys of storytelling, then Perfect Strangers is a thoroughly entertaining journey. But if one looks for something more, looks deeper, returns to it again, then one might prove to be disappointed.yy353

Those Were the Days (1934)

2008-07-28T17:30:00.010+01:00

Director: Thomas Bentley
Writer: Jack Jordan, Frank Launder, Frank Miller, Frederick A. Thompson, Arthur Wing Pinero
Cast: Will Hay, Iris Hoey, Angela Baddeley, Claud Allister, George Graves, John Mills, Jane Carr

Will Hay, master of the delayed take, he of the hilarious sniff, the man who gave us such masterpieces as Oh, Mr. Porter! (1937) and My Learned Friend (1943), perhaps Britain’s greatest big screen comedian, made his film debut with this lacklustre period farce. He had always been reluctant to make the move from the music halls to the cinema, after all, at the time he was earning £200 a week for doing material that he could mine for months or maybe even years. Once he made a film, that would be it, he would never be able to use the material again. So, unsurprisingly, but disappointingly, Hay chose material that was markedly different from his music hall act.

Those Were the Days, based on Arthur Pinero’s 1885 play The Magistrate, rather inelegantly attempts to mix a basic farce plot with a number of music hall acts. One wonders whether the plot was an excuse to show the acts, or whether the acts were just there to fatten up the slender plot. Whatever the intention, it failed miserably. The acts, whilst having some curiosity value, are mostly tremendously dull. The music hall crowds are continually shown laughing boisterously, yet I was often unaware that there had even been a joke. One act does stand out though, but for two entirely opposing reasons: Well sung, and having the novelty of the performer directly addressing us the viewer and asking us to join in with the chorus, it is dismaying that the most entertaining act is also the most disturbing - a man in black-face sings a song that has the words nigger and coon in it. How times have changed.

The plot is driven by a wife’s (Iris Hoey) deception concerning her age towards her second husband the magistrate Brutus Poskett (Will Hay). When they met, she shaved six years off her age and as a result also had to shave six years off her son (John Mills). The son, Bobby, is a worldly-wise young man of 21, who must pretend to be 15 around his step-father. This rather silly premise somehow leads all and sundry to the local music hall, and before you know it the magistrate is sentencing his own wife to seven days in prison.

The music hall acts are of neither use nor ornament; whilst being generally dull and occasionally offensive, they also manage to ruin the pacing of the main plot. A good farce requires a quick, snappy pace, and this certainly does not have one. The film isn’t a complete loss though: the performances are generally good and some of the dialogue is excellent (particularly anything coming out of the mouths of the two terribly posh army officers.) Generally disappointing, though.vv686

City Lights (1931)

2008-07-26T16:31:00.017+01:00

Writer/Director/Composer: Charles Chaplin
Cinematographer: Gordon Pollock, Roland Totheroh
Cast: Charles Chaplin, Virginia Cherrill, Harry Myers, Al Ernest Garcia, Hank Mann

Most Chaplin films are, for me, little more than entertaining diversions, not the great works of art that some people regard them as (a notable exception being the magnificent Modern Times (1936).) Not that there is anything wrong with entertaining diversions, by the way; and as diversions go, there are few more entertaining than this delightful, late silent film.

Chaplin, as usual, plays a kind hearted tramp, who enters the lives of two entirely disparate people. The first, a beautiful, blind street vendor who sells flowers and lives modestly, is kind hearted and dreams of romance. The second, an almost-perennially drunk millionaire, whom we first meet as he attempts to commit suicide, but is foiled by the little tramp, is a member of the idle rich. When drunk, he is your best friend; when sober, he looks at you like you are something that he has trodden in. With the millionaire, the tramp indulges in wild-partying and drunk-driving; whilst with the blind girl he is happy to sit and listen to music and ball wool. There is little doubt where Chaplin’s allegiances lie, yet his character of the tramp seems to have nothing but respect for everyone.

The film’s episodic structure lends itself to some excellent set-pieces: After a heavy night’s partying, the millionaire is driving home with the tramp; the car is swerving all over the road and intermittently mounting the pavement; the tramp urges him to watch where he’s driving, the millionaire replies “am I driving?”

The film’s best sequence revolves around a boxing match and its build-up. The tramp has been coerced into fighting by his opponent with the promise that they will go easy on each other and split the $50 prize money. The tramp agrees to this as he is desperate to raise money to pay for the blind girl’s overdue rent. Unfortunately, not long before their bout, the tramp’s opponent receives a telegram informing him that the police are looking for him and that he should get out of town; he reacts accordingly. The tramp’s new opponent doesn’t look kindly on the idea of sharing the $50. The resulting fight is a beautifully choreographed and brilliantly timed delight, in which the tramp, his opponent and the referee move in perfect unison, with the result as much a dance as a bout.

City Lights is an undoubtedly accomplished film, with many highly esteemed admirers. The performances are top notch, the slapstick well-timed and there are a number of extremely funny gags and sequences, but where it falls down for me, is that it is perhaps a little too sentimental for some tastes (including my own.) It’s certainly entertaining, but I don’t think it compares with Modern Times (1936).vv686

Andrei Rublev (1969)

2008-07-26T13:46:00.016+01:00

Original Title: Андрей Рублёв
Director: Andrei Tarkovsky
Writer: Andrei Tarkovsky, Andrei Konchalovsky
Cinematographer: Vadim Yusov
Composer: Vyacheslav Ovchinnikov
Cast: Anatoli Solonitsyn, Ivan Lapikov, Nikolai Grinko, Nikolai Sergeyev, Irma Raush, Nikolai Burlyayev, Yuri Nazarov

Eisenstein and Vertov, despite technical and intellectual brilliance, have never been able to force their way into the upper pantheon of my personal canon of great filmmakers: names like Bergman, Kurosawa and Forman hold pride-of-place; names like Tsai, Egoyan and Wong wait patiently by the door, hoping that with time they will be allowed in. But what do these filmmakers have that the Soviet giants do not? Humanity, or more correctly, they don’t portray humanity, or at least, they don’t portray it in the personal and intimate way that gets my juices flowing. Theirs is a world of impersonal concepts; mine is a world of humanism. Andrei Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev (1969), holds more in common with Ingmar Bergman’s middle-ages-set films than with the films of his Soviet forebears.

Ostensibly the film is about the monk and religious icon painter, Andrei Rublev (Anatoli Solonitsyn), whom we follow through eight chapters of his life in 15th century Russia, in some of which he only figures peripherally. But, I think, the real subject is the relationship between art, faith and life, and the way that they jostle for prominence in our lives. Life in medieval Russia is hard: famine, plague and violent power struggles leave a path strewn with death and destruction. Faith in God, faith in one’s fellow man, faith in one’s artistic calling; all of these things are constantly tested. Jesters are beaten and tortured, pagans are persecuted by Christians, Christians are abused by pagans, massacres occur in churches. People need to believe in a higher power.

Visually, the film utterly stunning. Vadim Yusov’s sumptuous Sovscope black and white photography beautifully captures the contrast between the ordered, spotless and decorative world of churches and cathedrals, and their gritty and earthy surroundings. The roaming, inquisitive camera almost becomes a character in itself, just managing to stay on the right side of the border between arresting and ostentatious (having said that, there is one crane-shot that appears to have escaped from a Brian De Palma movie.) The set-pieces are often quite breathtaking. The film opens with a man taking a hot-air balloon ride. We witness the incident from his point-of-view; the camera rises from the walls of a church and meanders over the surrounding countryside, before crashing to earth. It is a scene that transcends its subject matter; it is quite wonderful.

Another powerful set-piece revolves around a Tartar raid on the town of Vladimir, where Rublev is painting the church. The slaughter is merciless and is captured in great detail (animal lovers in particular may take offence at parts of this scene.) But there’s no mistaking the scene’s visceral power, and its perturbingly beautiful aftermath.

After so much destruction comes creation. The final episode revolves around the casting of a bell. Detailing the emotional and physical toil that come with creating a work of art, this scene both epitomises and is the epitome of Tarkovsky’s masterpiece. Boriska (the excellent Nikolai Burlyayev), driven and tyrannical during its creation is, on its completion, completely drained. The bell gave him a reason to live, and now it’s over. Why do we live? What do we live for? Art, beauty, love? I think that Tarkovsky’s wordless, transcendent epilogue comes closest to answering these questions. The camera, now photographing in colour, explores Rublev’s paintings to a climactic musical accompaniment; pain and suffering have given way to beauty. A stunningly beautiful masterpiece.vv686

Man with a Movie Camera (1929)

2008-07-25T08:41:00.016+01:00

Original Title: Chelovek s kino-apparatom
Writer/Director: Dziga Vertov
Cinematographer: Mikhail Kaufman
Cast: Mikhail Kaufman

There are those that choose to intellectualise Vertov’s silent Soviet documentary, including Vertov himself, (when he was alive, at least.) But of course, there are those that will choose to intellectualise a sunrise or a sunset (or a bowel movement, for that matter.) Millions of words have been written on Man with a Movie Camera, analysing how one shot relates to the next, and on what these relationships mean. I can just imagine bookish looking gentlemen in cardigans, armed with DVD remotes, notepads and pens, sitting inches away from a television set, bleary-eyed as they enter their 37th hour of watching this magical film, and they are not even half-way through yet. I contend that one does not need to understand every second of this film, that one does not need to analyse every frame. Just watch it. Just watch it as it was intended to be watched. Let your brain decode what it wants to, and just enjoy the lyrical beauty of what is in front of you.

Following on from the likes of Berlin, Symphony of a City (1927), Vertov’s documentary paints a picture of a day in the life of the Soviet Union. The film begins and ends in a cinema with people watching the same film that we are watching. People stream into the cinema and take their seats. The projectionist loads the projector. The film starts. A city is awakening. We are greeted with people beginning their day: they wash and dress and leave for work, busses leave the station, cars, carts and trams jostle for space on the busy streets, performers perform, workers work, and machines grind. Communism lives.

We are given neither inter-titles nor time to dwell on the images; the cutting is fast. Form seems to be more important than content. We are shown a portrait of a city, yet the experience is more musical, more abstract. Often the imagery is more akin to the abstract work of Norman McLaren than to a traditional documentary. Occasionally some of the effects are a little jarring. The man with the movie camera appearing from within a pint of beer is perhaps a little cutesy; in fact, most of the manufactured, altered shots are a little distracting, and I could happily have lived without them.

Documentaries, even avant-garde ones, gain in importance and appeal with each passing year. A Visit to Peek Frean and Co.'s Biscuit Works (1906), a commercial film, which at the time of its production would have been of little value to anyone, is, over 100 years later, absolutely fascinating. To witness people who look just like us, who have long since left this mortal coil, going about their lives, their heads filled with long forgotten worries and dreams, holds a fascination that transcends the intentions of any artist. Vertov’s film is no different. With that in mind, the part of the film that lives longest in my mind, is a scene in which a group of children, faces glowing with excitement, watch a Chinese street magician performing tricks. The looks on these children’s faces hold far more profound value than a million intellectualised cross-cuts.vv686

Overtaken (2003)

2008-07-24T16:12:00.017+01:00

Author: Alexei Sayle

Alexei Sayle’s first novel since 1984’s Train to Hell comes as something of a pleasant surprise. His short fiction, whilst being thoroughly enjoyable, and of a patchily high standard, didn’t really fill me with enthusiasm for his writing in a longer format. I got the distinct feeling, reading his short stories, that he wrote his last line, a line that was invariably brilliant and often hilarious or shocking, or hilariously shocking for that matter, that he wrote this final line first, and then searched for a way to reach it; the body of the story generally felt secondary to the denouement, as if it was just there to serve it. So, when tentatively reading Overtaken, to discover such an intricately plotted, beautifully paced, thoughtful and incisive novel, was quite a joy. And, on top of that, the hilarious one-liners, outlandish plot-twists and idiosyncratic prose of Sayle’s short work have survived the transition to this more ambitious effort.

Can People change? What shapes one’s personality? Who are we when everything and everyone else is stripped away? Sayle’s exploration of the effects of tragedy is narrated by Kevin, a property developer in his early 30s from Liverpool. His business dealings are successful, he has a close-nit group of friends with whom he enjoys the arts: plays, art galleries, films, books, avant-garde circuses; (he also, rather dubiously, considers video-games to be of cultural merit) his evenings and weekends are filled with activity. They even take holidays and weekend breaks away together. He exists only as part of this group.

Tragedy strikes. On the way back from a visit to the Lowry in Salford, a horrendous car accident kills all of his friends; Kevin, driving in the car behind, helplessly witnesses the entire incident. Subsequently, two new people enter his life: Florence, a beautiful circus performer from an unnamed eastern European country, (presumably Chechnya), and Sidney Maxton-Brown, the unlicensed driver of the non-roadworthy truck that killed Kevin’s friends. Florence is a member of CirKuss, a circus troop made up entirely of refugees from war-torn countries. Her dark, tragic beauty initially scares off Kevin, but after his own loss he finds himself powerfully drawn to her. They gradually become a couple, instinctively knowing not to pry into each other’s pasts.

Kevin also worms his way into Sidney’s life following the latter’s premature release from prison on compassionate grounds (he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, which had subsequently gone into remission.) But, Kevin’s motives are not of vengeance, well, at least not in the traditional sense. The trouble is, Sidney doesn’t feel any guilt for what he has done, and that is what hurts Kevin the most. Not only has he gotten away without a prison sentence, but his conscience is also completely clear. Kevin befriends Sidney, and sets out to humanise him, to make him an empathetic being, to make him feel the requisite pain for what he has done.

Sayle’s novel has some interesting things to say about pain, and the relationship between the inflictor and the inflicted, and the way that everyone copes with it and reacts to it differently; the subjectivity of pain and suffering, of guilt and responsibility. It also interestingly explores the question of what it is that defines us, what it is that makes us who we are. Where do our ideas and prejudices come from? If the slate is wiped clean, who are we and what do we do? It is also, unsurprisingly, very funny. A delight.ss808

Carl Theodor Dreyer - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-07-19T12:12:00.005+01:00

Carl Theodor Dreyer’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

The Birth of a Nation (Griffith, 1915)
Arne's Treasure (Stiller, 1919)
Battleship Potemkin (Eisenstein, 1925)
The Gold Rush (Chaplin, 1925)
Under the Roofs of Paris (Clair, 1930)
Le quai des brumes (Carné, 1938)
Brief Encounter (Lean, 1945)
Henry V (Olivier, 1944)
The Petrified Forest (Mayo, 1936)
Rome, Open City (Rossellini, 1945)zz242

Luis Buñuel - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-07-19T11:59:00.005+01:00

Luis Buñuel’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

Underworld (Sternberg, 1927)
The Gold Rush (Chaplin, 1925)
Bicycle Thieves (De Sica, 1948)
Battleship Potemkin (Eisenstein, 1925)
Portrait of Jennie (Dieterle, 1948)
Cavalcade (Lloyd, 1933)
White Shadows in the South Seas (Van Dyke, 1928)
Dead of Night (Cavalcanti, Crichton, Dearden, Hamer, 1945)
L'âge d’or (Buñuel, 1930)
I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang (LeRoy, 1932)zz242

Knife Crime in Britain

2008-07-17T13:34:00.006+01:00

Newspapers, radio phone-ins, national news, local news, the Internet, if we are to believe them, then Britain is overrun with knife-wielding, hooded teenagers marauding through the streets in search of pensioners to mug. Yet, as we look out of the window, as we walk down the street, as we travel in and out of towns and cities, we are forced to ask, where is this crime?

The latest police-recorded crime figures show that violent crime has fallen by 8% in the last year, and the most serious violent crime by 12%. Yet, ask the average man on the street, and he’ll tell you that “the end of the world is nigh”.

Is bandwagon jumping journalism irresponsible, or dangerous even? For instance, teenagers are an impressionable bunch; tell them that their peers are walking through the streets armed with knives, and they are going to want a knife for themselves. Is it beyond the realms of possibility, that the miniscule percentage of the teenage populace that carry knives could be increased substantially by irresponsible, misleading journalism? Is there a danger of ‘Knife Crime in Britain’ becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy?

What can we do about it? Well, unfortunately, probably not a lot. There is always going to be a substantial number of people who can sleep soundly at night no matter what dirty deeds they have carried out during the day. Irresponsible journalism is here to stay. Luckily though, these story fads tend to last only a few months at the most. With any luck, the next fad will involve dog-bites or the like, or something else that will not be exacerbated by the reporting of the less ethical members of our press. Why not make the next fad something fun for once? Knicker-snatching is always good for a laugh.tt797

Robert Bresson - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-07-16T15:15:00.004+01:00

Robert Bresson’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

The Gold Rush (Chaplin, 1925)
City Lights (Chaplin, 1931)
Battleship Potemkin (Eisenstein, 1925)
Brief Encounter (Lean, 1945)
Bicycle Thieves (De Sica, 1948)
Man of Aran (Flaherty, 1934)
Louisiana Story (Flaherty, 1948)
Only indicated seven titles.zz242

Jacques Becker - Brussels Referendum Top Ten 1952

2008-07-16T14:50:00.005+01:00

Jacques Becker’s top ten list from the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

The Pilgrim (Chaplin, 1923)
City Lights (Chaplin, 1931)
Modern Times (Chaplin, 1936)
Foolish Wives (von Stroheim, 1922)
Greed (von Stroheim, 1925)
The Wedding March (von Stroheim, 1928)
Lonesome (Fejös, 1928)
The Crowd (Vidor, 1928)
M (Lang, 1931)
Didn’t indicate a tenth title.zz242

Jacques Rivette - Sight & Sound Top Ten 1962

2008-07-16T14:32:00.005+01:00

Jacques Rivette’s list for the 1962 Sight & Sound top ten poll.

The Life of Oharu (Mizoguchi, 1952)
Germany Year Zero (Rossellini, 1948)
True Heart Susie (Griffith, 1919)
Sunrise (Murnau, 1927)
The River (Renoir, 1951)
Ivan the Terrible (Eisenstein, 1944)
L’atalante (Vigo, 1934)
Day of Wrath (Dreyer, 1943)
Monsieur Verdoux (Chaplin, 1947)
Confidential Report (Welles, 1955)

zz242

Eric Rohmer - Sight & Sound Top Ten 1962

2008-07-16T14:27:00.005+01:00

Eric Rohmer’s list for the 1962 Sight & Sound top ten poll.

True Heart Susie (Griffith, 1919)
The General (Bruckman & Keaton, 1927)
Sunrise (Murnau, 1927)
La règle du jeu (Renoir, 1939)
Ivan the Terrible (Eisenstein, 1944)
Voyage to Italy (Rossellini, 1954)
Red River (Hawks, 1948)
Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958)
Pickpocket (Bresson, 1959)
The Human Pyramid (Rouch, 1961)zz242

Karel Reisz - Sight & Sound Top Ten 1962

2008-07-16T14:06:00.005+01:00

Karel Reisz’s list for the 1962 Sight & Sound top ten poll.

L’atalante (Vigo, 1934)
City Lights (Chaplin, 1931)
Earth (Dovzhenko, 1930)
Listen to Britain (Jennings, 1942)
Los olvidados (Buñuel, 1950)
The Palm Beach Story (Sturges, 1942)
Wagon Master (Ford, 1950)
L’avventura (Antonioni, 1960)
Umberto D. (De Sica, 1952)
Two Pennyworth of Hope (Castellani, 1952)
La règle du jeu (Renoir, 1939)zz242

The Sight & Sound Top Ten Poll 1952

2008-07-16T13:35:00.008+01:00

British film magazine, Sight & Sound’s first decennial poll of the ten best films of all time by the world’s most eminent film critics began quietly in 1952 under the title of As the Critics Like It. It was undertaken in response to the poll of film directors taken at the Brussels Referendum of 1952.

It’s interesting that even then, in 1952, when the Cinema was still relatively young, that the critics were complaining about the difficulty of such a task. “What an awful idea,” “what a thing to ask,” “I feel simply broken,” “impossible,” “barbarous,” silly”. One critic claimed to have seen 5777 films. How does one whittle 5777 down to ten? It was also noted about the arbitrariness of the figure. One critic suggested 50, another 2½. Fifty some-years later the task is nigh impossible. With each passing year that figure of ten becomes increasingly irksome.

The Ten Best Films

01. Bicycle Thieves (de Sica, 1949): 25 votes
02. City Lights (Chaplin, 1930): 19 votes
02. The Gold Rush (Chaplin, 1925): 19 votes
04. Battleship Potemkin (Eisenstein, 1925): 16 votes
05. Louisiana Story (Flaherty, 1947): 12 votes
05. Intolerance (Griffith, 1916): 12 votes
07. Greed (von Stroheim, 1924): 11 votes
07. Le jour se lève (Carne, 1939): 11 votes
07. The Passion of Joan of Arc (Dreyer, 1928): 11votes
10. Brief Encounter (Lean, 1945): 10 votes
10. Le million (Clair, 1930): 10 votes
10. La règle du jeu (Renoir, 1939): 10 votes

Main Runners-Up

11. Citizen Kane (Welles, 1941): 9 votes
11. La grande illusion (Renoir, 1937): 9 votes
11. The Grapes of Wrath (Ford, 1940): 9 votes
14. The Childhood of Maxim Gorky (Donskoy, 1938): 8 votes
14. Monsieur Verdoux (Chaplin, 1947): 8 votes
14. Que viva México (Eisenstein, 1931): 8 votes
17. Earth (Dovzhenko, 1929): 7 votes
17. Zéro de conduite (Vigo, 1932): 7 votes
19. Broken Blossoms (Griffith, 1919): 6 votes
19. Les dames du Bois de Boulogne (Bresson, 1945): 6 votes
19. Hallelujah! (Vidor, 1929): 6 votes

Sight & Sound only printed 47 of the 63 critics’ lists, nevertheless further analysis proves interesting. 198 films were listed by these 47 critics. The earliest being The Assassination of the Duke de Guise (Calmettes & Le Bargy, 1908), and the latest The Quiet Man (Ford, 1952), one of three films released in 1952 that were included. These 198 films were produced in 13 different countries, they break down as follows:

USA - 81 films (199 votes)
France - 39 films (110 votes)
Germany - 23 films (36 votes)
UK - 19 films (35 votes)
Soviet Union - 13 films (42 votes)
Italy - 7 films (30 votes)
Sweden - 6 films (10 votes)
Mexico - 2 films (11 votes)
Canada - 2 films (2 votes)
Denmark - 1 film (3 votes)
Japan - 1 film (2 votes)
Austria - 1 film (1 vote)
Czechoslovakia - 1 film (1 vote)

Very Eurocentric indeed. Imagine a time when only one Asian film would be nominated.

The 198 films were made by 123 different directors.

The top ten by number of films:

1. Charles Chaplin - 13 films
2. John Ford - 8 films
3. Jean Renoir - 5 films
= René Clair - 5 films
5. Sergei M. Eisenstein - 4 films
= D.W. Griffith - 4 films
= Robert J. Flaherty - 4 films
= Marcel Carné - 4 films
= Erich von Stroheim - 4 films
= F.W. Murnau - 4 films
= Georg Wilhelm Pabst - 4 films
= Carol Reed - 4 films
= Fritz Lang - 4 films

The top ten by votes:

01. Charles Chaplin - 55 votes
02. Vittorio De Sica - 23 votes
03. Sergei M. Eisenstein - 22 votes
04. Jean Renoir - 21 votes
05. D.W. Griffith - 20 votes
06. Robert J. Flaherty - 19 votes
07. René Clair - 18 votes
08. John Ford - 17 votes
09. Marcel Carné - 16 votes
10. Carl Theodor Dreyer - 15 votes

The critics polled were mostly from UK, France and USA, with the odd one or two from Belgium, Denmark, Sweden, Italy and Germany. It may be interesting to look at the top tens of the three main groups of critics.

UK

1. City Lights (Chaplin, 1930): 11 votes
2. Bicycle Thieves (de Sica, 1949): 7 votes
3. La règle du jeu (Renoir, 1939): 6 votes
4. Le jour se lève (Carne, 1939): 5 votes
= The Grapes of Wrath (Ford, 1940): 5 votes
= The Childhood of Maxim Gorky (Donskoy, 1938): 5 votes
= Earth (Dovzhenko, 1929): 5 votes
8. The Gold Rush (Chaplin, 1925): 4 votes
= Louisiana Story (Flaherty, 1947): 4 votes
= Greed (von Stroheim, 1924): 4 votes
= Zéro de conduite (Vigo, 1932): 4 votes
= Citizen Kane (Welles, 1941): 4 votes
= Los olvidados (Buñuel, 1950): 4 votes
= L'atalante (Vigo, 1934): 4 votes
= Orphée (Cocteau, 1950): 4 votes
= On the Town (Donen & Kelly, 1950): 4 votes
= All Quiet on the Western Front (Milestone, 1930)

France

1. Bicycle Thieves (de Sica, 1949): 6 votes
= The Gold Rush (Chaplin, 1925): 6 votes
3. Que viva México (Eisenstein, 1931): 5 votes
4. Louisiana Story (Flaherty, 1947): 4 votes
= Greed (von Stroheim, 1924): 4 votes
6. Battleship Potemkin (Eisenstein, 1925): 3 votes
= La règle du jeu (Renoir, 1939): 3 votes
= The Passion of Joan of Arc (Dreyer, 1928): 3 votes
= Monsieur Verdoux (Chaplin, 1947): 3 votes
= Les dames du Bois de Boulogne (Bresson, 1945): 3 votes
= Le million (Clair, 1930): 3 votes
= The Birth of a Nation (Griffith, 1915): 3 votes
= The River (Renoir, 1951): 3 votes
= Broken Blossoms (Griffith, 1919): 3 votes
= The Magnificent Ambersons (Welles, 1942): 3 votes
= Sunrise (Murnau, 1927): 3 votes

USA

1. Intolerance (Griffith, 1916): 4 votes
2. Bicycle Thieves (de Sica, 1949): 3 votes
= City Lights (Chaplin, 1930): 3 votes
= Battleship Potemkin (Eisenstein, 1925): 3 votes
= À nous la liberté (Clair, 1931): 3 votes
6. Louisiana Story (Flaherty, 1947): 2 votes
= Greed (von Stroheim, 1924): 2 votes
= Monsieur Verdoux (Chaplin, 1947): 2 votes
= L'âge d’or (Buñuel, 1930): 2 votes
= Day of Wrath (Dreyer, 1943): 2 votes
= The Wedding March (von Stroheim, 1928): 2 voteszz242

Adam Elliot's Family Trilogy (1996-1999)

2008-07-13T21:53:00.015+01:00

Writer/Director/Animator: Adam Elliot
Narrator: William McInnes

Claymator Adam Elliot’s semi-autobiographical short film trilogy, each one painting a portrait of a different family member, Uncle (1996), Cousin (1998), and Brother (1999), heralded the arrival of a fantastic new talent. His first forays into the art of claymation, preceding his Academy award winning Harvie Krumpet (2003) by a number of years, are an absolute joy. Although joy is perhaps not quite the right word, as these terrifically rich stories are doused with a great deal of pathos.

Uncle (1996), is about an eccentric and loving man, who paints smiley faces with his food and dresses up as Father Christmas every year, whose life-force gradually drains away after a series of personal losses. His wife commits suicide, which he manages to deal with, but when his faithful dog Reg is run over by a skateboard he goes into terminal decline and ends his days in a nursing home.

Cousin (1998), is about Adam’s cousin, and childhood friend, who suffers from cerebral palsy. Their liquorice smelling, cake-baking, toe-nail collecting, one-armed cricket playing, super-hero costume wearing childhood friendship is cruelly ended by tragedy, when the cousin’s parents are killed in a car crash, and he is taken to live in a group-home in another state.

Brother (1999), is the most ambitious of the trilogy, incorporating several different characters into the one tale. We are introduced to the mother, who cuts old people’s hair and sells pies at the footie; the alcoholic crippled father who used to be an acrobat; the big-headed neighbour with a dislike for prostitutes and accountants; and of course, the brother, a mischievous child with severe asthma and one blacked-out lens on his glasses. Adam and his brother enjoy kicking the football at their father’s undies, and watching cartoons on a Saturday morning.

Elliot’s style of animation is extremely economical, with hardly any movement within the frame, and the camera itself never moving at all. What movement there is is created by the editing. We cut from a wide-shot of the cousin to a close-up of a jar of toe-nails and back again, creating just enough kineticism to keep pace with the narrative. The colour scheme is largely made-up of greys and blacks, with an occasional burst of muted colour, which perfectly matches the sad tales and the beautiful melancholia of William McInnes’s outstanding narration.

One comes away from this marvellous collection of films with the distinct feeling of having spent a considerable amount of time with these people. We feel that we know them. We care about them. We are them. Eliot’s portraits are so compelling, so enriched with life, that we may even be moved to shed a tear for what is essentially just a lump of plasticine. A devastatingly beautiful portrait of our lives.vv686

Dead Creatures (2001)

2008-07-12T22:33:00.020+01:00

Writer/Director/Composer: Andrew Parkinson
Cinematographer: Jason Shepherd
Cast: Beverley Wilson, Antonia Beamish, Brendan Gregory, Anna Swift, Bart Ruspoli, Fiona Carr, Eva Fontaine

Dead creatures is, for want of a better term, a zombie film. Although, I’m sure that pedants and horror movie buffs alike will frown upon the term. Because, these “zombies” are, and here’s the problem, very much alive. They drink, they smoke, they socialise, they have sex, they make small talk. At first glance they appear to be very much boringly normal. Of course, anyone who feasts on the flesh of human beings is anything but normal.

David Parkinson’s leisurely paced low-budget second feature begins with several different people, some alone, some in pairs, going about their seemingly disparate lives. The characters’ actions appear everyday and normal. Our only clue to what maybe happening is the occasional blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shot of a severed limb.

Christian (Bart Ruspoli), who appears to be something of a ladies’ man, makes a date with a young student, Sian (Anna Swift). Jo (Beverley Wilson) and Ann (Antonia Beamish) live together with the severely ill Ali (Lindsay Clarke), and are friends with Fran (Eva Fontaine) and Zoe (Fiona Carr). They spend their time smoking cannabis, talking about sex, and moving from squat to squat in order to keep one step ahead of a man (Brendan Gregory), who kidnaps young men and questions them about the whereabouts of a missing young woman. Slowly but surely these characters lives begin to intertwine.

The cannibalism seems to be the result of a virus that is passed on from the bite of an infected person. The disease, which causes a hunger for human flesh, is a degenerative one, which, after approximately 12 months leaves the sufferer literally falling apart, both physically and mentally. Now, quite obviously, the disease, the lifestyle, the cannibalism, these are all things just waiting to be read allegorically. It is quite easy to apply one of a number of metaphors to the proceedings. The easiest, and most obvious, is that of drug dependency - well spoken middle-class people reduced to living in squalor due to their dependencies. Perhaps just as easy, and one that is also just as often attached to vampire films, is that of equating human flesh with any other meat. Is there a fundamental difference between the flesh of a cow and the flesh of a human? Well, I’m fairly sure that most people will say yes, even vegetarians.

But my favourite metaphor is that of life itself. As they are born to their life unwillingly by a bite, we are born to ours unknowingly from our mothers. They, like us, live and eat and carry on with that knowledge that one day they will wither and die. They, like we, do what they do because they have no other choice. We are and do because we must.

For such a low-budget production, the film appears remarkably professional and accomplished. Jason Shepherd’s lush photography and Andrew Parkinson’s precise mise-en-scène and menacing score give the film a look and feel of a studio production (but with the soul still attached.) The acting is also surprisingly competent, with Brendan Gregory being particularly effective. A special mention must also be made for Paul Hyett’s wonderfully gory special effects.

Dead Creatures is a thought provoking, challenging, humourless, slightly grim, and above all else, tremendously well-made anti-horror film. One can only hope that Parkinson continues to find funding for his films and manages to resist the allure of Hollywood.vv686

Artemis 81 (1981)

2008-07-12T17:28:00.015+01:00

Director: Alastair Reid
Writer: David Rudkin
Composer: Dave Greenslade
Cast: Hywel Bennett, Roland Curram, Dan O'Herlihy, Dinah Stabb, Sting

One can only sit back and wonder at what the world of England in 1981 must have been like. A world in which three hours of primetime Christmas television programming on BBC1 (not BBC2, mind) was set aside for a film of comparatively funereal pacing, that alluded to Greek mythology and Scandinavian cinema, not to mention the faint whiff of homoeroticism, and that had a plot that even David Lynch would have been scratching his head at. Twenty-some years later we would have to make do with some sort of reality-TV nonsense. Oh, how we have progressed!

From what I can gather, the film depicts a battle of some sort between Good and Evil. The Good represented by Helith (Sting), and the Evil by Asrael (Roland Curram) and his semi-willing pawn Von Drachenfels (Dan O'Herlihy). Our guide through this tale is the science-fiction novelist, Gideon (Hywell Bennett). And it is Gideon, along with his friend Gwen (Dinah Stabb), that add a human face to the proceedings. In fact, just as humanity is careering towards some impending apocalypse, Gideon and Gwen are themselves on a voyage towards some sort of emotional growth. In the final scene of the film Gideon asks Gwen of her story, how did she get there? She replies that the story is not important, but what is important is that they are there, they are where they have reached. They have developed to the point where they can be together. Gideon goes from cold and guarded to vulnerable and open, and Gwen from meek and weak to strong and opinionated. Their journeys are complete.

Another interesting aspect of Gwen’s remark is that the opposite could be said of this film. That the destination, the ending, is the unimportant aspect, that the journey is what really counts. And it is quite a journey. The first hour will test the patience of most viewers. It all appears to be wilfully obtuse, and one can‘t help but wonder what anything has to do with anything else. At least that is the case on one’s first viewing. (This is a film that demands multiple viewings.) On a second viewing, the first hour becomes absolutely mesmerising; details that at first appeared unimportant, now begin to piece together. There was a design! There is a point!

That’s not to say that people won’t enjoy the film, as I certainly did, on their first viewing. The abstract qualities of Alastair Reid’s mise-en-scène, that on a second viewing take on increased meaning, but on the first viewing have a simple beauty that one can only experience on that first viewing. David Jackson’s chiaroscuro lighting, in particular, is often quite breathtaking.

And, or course, there is also a certain amount of pleasure to be garnered from attempting to decode a particularly enigmatic work of art. I think that most of us like a good chin scratch every now and then, to exercise the intellectual muscles, and to be in the presence of an artist who respects our intelligence.yy353

Another Flip for Dominick (1982)

2008-07-11T17:44:00.015+01:00

Director: Alan Gibson
Writer: Alan Gibson, Jeremy Paul
Cast: Peter Firth, Caroline Langrishe, Pippa Guard, Patrick Magee, Sylvia Coleridge, Ron Berglas

Alan Gibson and Jeremy Paul’s sequel to the cracking time travel comedy-drama The Flipside of Dominick Hide (1980). Although inferior to its predecessor and as such something of a disappointment, it is anything but the disaster that it might have been. Its trouble, I think, is that it has tried to cram too much in to its brief running time, and as such has lost the relaxed ambling pace of the first film. Where the original film managed so elegantly, to balance science-fiction with human drama, here it is often an ugly mix. The film also lacks the humour of the first film, which was often quite delightful.

One of the main concerns of this sequel is that of time travelling ethics. When a colleague of Dominick’s dies in 1982, he returns to just before the incident in order to prevent this from happening. This is seen by all as perfectly acceptable. But when he goes back in time to prevent an argument that he had with his girlfriend/great-great-great-grandmother, he foolishly tells her of his actions and they end up having the same fight again, although this time for different reasons. Do meddling time travellers’ actions allow only time travellers to learn, to grow?

Where this sequel works best, if one is in the mood for such a thing, is in its depiction of the complexities involved in keeping a love-pentagon (don’t ask me how this works, because it doesn’t) going. Dominick (Peter Firth) Loves his wife Ava (Pippa Guard)and his great-great-great-grandmother Jane (Caroline Langrishe), both of whom have fathered his children. Jane has taken up with a musician, and loves both the musician and Dominick, who she knows that she can never be with. Ava has met a juggler/home-helper, but she still loves Dominick even though she is no longer willing to share him with Jane, even if Jane is long dead. There is an air of tragedy about the way this matter is concluded, and it is concluded in the only way it ever really could have been - unhappily (The final scene with Dominick wiping a video is quite devastating.)

Another Flip for Dominick, is disappointing in the context of the original, but if one looks at it from a wider perspective, then it is quietly effective, entertaining and moving, if a little messy. But, I for one, can overlook a little mess for the right time traveller.yy353

The Flipside of Dominick Hide (1980)

2008-07-11T16:08:00.018+01:00

Director: Alan Gibson
Writer: Alan Gibson, Jeremy Paul
Cast: Peter Firth, Caroline Langrishe, Pippa Guard, Patrick Magee, Trevor Ray, Sylvia Coleridge, Jean Trend, Timothy Davies

So, it turns out that flying saucers aren’t occupied by little green men from outer space after all, but by time travelling civil servants from the year 2130. At least, that is according to this television film from 1980 that was filmed as part of the acclaimed BBC’s Play for Today series.

2130, 131 years after the nuclear apocalypse of 1999; society has become very ordered. Out of necessity, people have learned to take orders, to follow rules. If one is told not to go outside because of the radioactivity, then one is likely to follow that order, and so, obedience has become something of a habit. Dominick Hide (Peter Firth), tired of his sanitised, empty life, craves more. When we first encounter him, he is returning from one of his missions (his duty is to monitor the 1980 London traffic system.) He is shown in close-up revealing his melancholy and disconsolate face. He has had enough of watching, he wants to interact.

His mischievous 116 year-old, sorry, make that 115 year-old (she has a tendency to exaggerate) great aunt Mavis (Sylvia Coleridge) gets the plot moving. She tells him of his great-great-grandfather, also called Dominick Hide, who may have been living in London in 1980, Port Beale she thinks (Portobello is the consensus view of three inebriated 1980 Londoners.) Dominick becomes determined, much to the chagrin of his wife, Ava (Pippa Guard), to do what is forbidden by his intimidating superior, Caleb Line (Patrick Magee), to land on the flipside (the time travelled to), and search for his great-great-grandfather. In 1980 he meets the stunningly beautiful Jane (Caroline Langrishe), who runs a shop on Portobello road; she and her friends are enlisted by him in his quest to find Dominick Hide.

As with most science-fiction, The Flipside of Dominick Hide, is as concerned with ideas as much as with anything else. The fantastic central conceit that I mentioned in the opening line, that of flying saucers housing time travellers, and flying saucer spottings being those of careless time travellers, is inspired. Also, ideas about the dangers of interaction by time travellers, although well worn from countless science-fictions, are painted here afresh with images (although be it, not actually physically shown) of buildings crumbling and people disappearing.

That’s not to say that this is a film just of ideas. Any film that has a world-weary, directionless main protagonist called Dominick Hide who sets off in search of someone named Dominick Hide, and ends up finding love (twice over) and a new lease of life, is always going to be about more than just ideas. The contrasts between Dominick’s 1980 life and his 2130 life are fascinating. Exciting and new in 1980, staid and lifeless in 2130. In 1980 Jane may have introduced him to passion and beauty, but she has also introduced him to fear and shame. Dominick in turn, for better and for worse, introduces these new emotions to those around him in 2130. 1980 begins to bleed into 2130. Dominick and Ava begin to relate. Dominick’s engineer comes out of the closet. The lifeless come to life.

The futuristic elements of the production are surprisingly credible. The fashions, are for once, not outlandish and silly. And technology has not lost sight of common sense and basic human needs. But, the most intelligent aspect of the film is the language used in 2130; one can easily believe that the English language, that like all languages is an organic evolving thing, would have changed to the subtle level that is heard here.
Funny, thought-provoking, moving, visually arresting (surprisingly for a television production, its use of dissolves are particularly interesting), well acted, and above all else, quite unlike anything else. How refreshing to find a piece of science fiction with neither violence, nor even the threat of violence. A lesser sequel followed in 1982.yy353

Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction (1963)

2008-07-11T13:28:00.017+01:00

Author: J. D. Salinger

Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters (1955) and Seymour: An Introduction (1959), are a pair of long short stories written by Salinger about the Glass family. The former ostensibly about Buddy Glass, and the latter about Seymour Glass, but quite often it appears that the opposite is true. Although, really, both stories are about the relationship between the two brothers, Buddy and Seymour, or more precisely, Buddy’s recollections of their relationship.

Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters, follows Buddy to New York in 1942, where he is taking leave from the army to attend Seymour’s wedding to Muriel. He arrives just in time to discover that Seymour has not turned up. Buddy somehow manages to end up in a car with the Matron of Honor (sic), her husband the Lieutenant, Muriel’s Aunt Mrs. Silsburn, and Muriel’s deaf-mute great-uncle. The topic of conversation rarely strays from Seymour and his deficiencies. Unsurprisingly, Buddy is reluctant to reveal his own identity.

This first story is fairly typical of Salinger’s work, particularly his Glass family saga, in that it is tightly written, unfolds over a short space of time, and consists of human interactions (with a playwright’s ear for dialogue.) The second story, Seymour: An Introduction, on the other hand, is quite a departure; it takes the form of a stream of consciousness portrait of Seymour by his brother Buddy.

The formal elements of this second story are what surprise the most. It is, at least seemingly, self indulgent with paragraphs that last for several pages, and has an overuse of parenthesis, italics, foot-notes, and out of place capitalisation. I say seemingly, because, is the self indulgence Salinger’s or Buddy’s? Is it not just Salinger’s portrait of Buddy’s (mid-life crisis induced?) self indulgence? Of course, Salinger chose to write the story, so one could easily argue either way.

Nevertheless, both stories are interesting, although I, personally, prefer Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters, but having said that, I can’t help but be intrigued by Seymour: An Introduction. Its diary-like informality really makes one feel like one is witness to a truly personal and intimate portrait of, not the titular Seymour, but the author himself, Buddy, or perhaps, even Salinger himself. One comes away from the story with a picture of a lonely 40 year-old man who desperately misses his brother, a person that he not only shared his early life with, but whom he continues to measure it against.ss808/span>

Barcelona Plates (2000)

2008-07-07T17:29:00.016+01:00

Author: Alexei Sayle

To fully appreciate this collection of short stories, one must, I think, be familiar with the author Alexei Sayle’s stand-up or television sketch comedy work. His prose very much mirrors his angry, ranting, incredulous Liverpudlian persona. Not that I want to put off the uninitiated, because I’m sure that they will be able to find plenty of enjoyment within these stories. But the punch-lines and expletives are far more effective when shouted in the voice of an overweight Scouser.

The collection gets off to an inauspicious start with two stories that read like they were written with only their punch-lines in mind. Barcelona Plates, a tale about a holidaymaking Brit who causes a infamous car accident, is the slightly more interesting of the two stories, but in terms of the aforementioned punch-lines, the second story, My Life’s Work, a story about a television writer’s stuttering career, has the funnier denouement. In fact, the last two lines of My Life’s Work are actually trouser-soilingly funny.

The cracking Back in Ten Minutes provides a notable improvement. Filled with insights into call centres, provincial England, middle-aged masturbatory habits, and ice acrobatics; it also contains something that was missing from the first two stories, a well-drawn and recognisable character.

The Minister For Death, in which a 72 year-old Liverpudlian discovers the joys of killing and becomes a hit-man for the Chechen Mafia, is ridiculous and funny and constantly surprising; it mixes social and political comment with outlandish humour.

A hypochondriac ne’er-do-well becomes a successful journalist by writing about a serious medical condition that he doesn’t have in You’re Only Middle Aged Once. Unsurprisingly this story ends on an ironic note, but surprisingly, not the one that you might expect. A satirically funny highlight.

Nic and Tob is another punch-line in search of a story, but is followed by the exceptional Big-Headed Cartoon Animal. Pete, a former left-wing radical, is persuaded to visit the USA by his other half, Pru, and his diminishing moral convictions. The story is hilariously absurd, but it also manages to paint a lovingly detailed picture of an ageing leftie.

Locked Out is instantly forgettable, and My Shrinking Circle of Acquaintances is perhaps, a little too wilfully quirky. The Bad Samaritan and The Good Samaritan are a little bit lightweight, but the former does have a funny denouement.

The deliciously wicked Lose Weight, Ask Me How, takes the form of one side of a conversation, that involves murder, cannibalism, Dickens and big business; and is both inventively surprising and blackly funny.

The penultimate story, This Stupid Smile, revolves around unpleasant people doing unpleasant things, and has very little of redeeming value. The final story, the most acclaimed of the 14, The Last Woman Killed in the War, is one of the better stories, but it’s also one of the most disappointing. The tale is of a 16 year-old white girl impregnated by a black man, who when forced to give up the baby, becomes a nun and is sent to Papua New Guinea for 37 years. The story is far too rich with ideas and potential to be restricted to the 15 pages that Sayle allots to it here. Ultimately, it is not as satisfying as it should be.

Although patchy, this collection has enough ideas, observations, surprises and laughs to tickle the fancy of most readers. A recommended collection.ss808

No One Belongs Here More Than You (2007)

2008-07-07T14:05:00.018+01:00

Author: Miranda July

Miranda July is one of those annoying people who seems to be able to turn their hand to just about anything. Artist, musician, filmmaker, actress, writer, all around smarty-pants; and on top of all that, with those piercing blue eyes and slender figure, she’s also quite beautiful. Those that wish ill on such people, and hope that their future projects fail, will be disappointed by reading this collection of 16 stories, as they are actually quite wonderful.

They bare in common with all her work, a focus on human interactions, the need that people have to connect with other people, and the difficulties that this often entails. Her characters are not restricted to the normal, the everyday, in fact quite the opposite is true, her characters are anything but average. Of course, what is normal? Are people like the characters portrayed in television soap operas and Hollywood movies, or are they more like you and me and everyone we know?

The stories involve shared patio rosters, swimming lessons for the elderly held in the teacher’s living room, a middle-age woman’s obsession with Prince William, a paedophile’s homosexual relationship with his Hispanic workmate via his imaginary teenage sister, pre-teen lesbian sex, nudie booths, a secretary of a fake accountant, and a father passing on sexual techniques to his daughter. Although these things are not everyday occurrences, the emotions involved are. The more bizarre and unusual the story, the more it highlights the commonality of human experience and emotion. It is not often that one feels empathy with a paedophile, yet July’s deeply human writing achieves this.

Surprising, original, sexy, romantic, funny, moving and above all else human, July’s first collection of short stories is a complete joy. Placed alongside her award winning debut feature film Me and You and Everyone We know (2005) and projects such as Learning to Love You More (with Harrell Fletcher) the stories take on a greater significance and signal July as being an artist to expect great things of.ss808

Obituary: Ernie Cooksey 1980-2008

2008-07-07T09:04:00.008+01:00

The Oldham fans didn’t know quite what to make of Ernie Cooksey, the most unlikely looking of footballers, when he first played for the Latics in a friendly against near neighbours Rochdale in the summer of 2003. He appeared to have arrived from a bygone era; he was short, not particularly athletic looking, and his bald head somehow seemed quite old fashioned. On top of that he had just arrived from non-league football, and his style, at first glance, appeared to be anything but cultured. So when cries of “Ernie for England” began to emanate from the Oldham fans it was with a deep irony, that some may have taken badly. The chants were greeted, not with derision, or half-hearted joviality, but with Cooksey’s trademark full-face grin; and so it was, that a new fan’s favourite was born.

Born on the 11th of June 1980 in Bishops Stortford, Hertfordshire, Ernest George Cooksey’s introduction to football as a trainee at Colchester United didn’t result in a professional contract; it wasn’t until after a number of years of non-league football at the likes of Crawley Town and Chesham United, that he got his chance at Oldham Athletic. Whilst at Chesham, he was managed by Bob Dowie, brother of Iain; and it was Iain Dowie that gave him his big chance and brought him to Oldham.

Cooksey was a deceptively talented footballer. Often written off as a yard-dog, a leg-biter, a grafter, all of which were true, but he was in fact much more than that. Admittedly not the most technically gifted of players, he did have an excellent footballing brain. His movement off the ball was often magnificent, and in particular, his late runs into the penalty area, reminiscent of both Latics fan Paul Scholes and legend Roger Palmer, often resulted in goals.

Cooksey spent just one season at Oldham, starting 26 matches and appearing from the bench on another fifteen occasions, he managed to contribute six goals. He moved on to Lancashire neighbours Rochdale in September 2004, making 100 appearances and scoring eight goals, before transferring to Boston United in January 2007, for whom he made 16 appearances before returning to non-league football with Grays Athletic in the summer of 2007.

Unfortunately Grays was to be Cooksey’s last club as, in February 2007, he was diagnosed with a recurrence of a malignant melanoma, the most serious form of skin cancer. A number of events were organised in order to raise money to send Cooksey to America for experimental treatment, including a friendly between Oldham and Rochdale, but alas, it was too late as on the 3rd of July 2008 he lost his battle with cancer, passing away in hospital at the side of his partner, Louise who is expecting their first child in August 2008.vv575

Places to See - Metéora

2008-06-27T11:34:00.011+01:00

The Metéora monasteries in Greece.xx464

The Return (2003)

2008-06-25T08:23:00.026+01:00

Original Title: Возвращение
Director: Andrei Zvyagintsev
Writer: Vladimir Moiseyenko, Aleksandr Novototsky
Cinematographer: Mikhail Krichman
Composer: Andrei Dergachyov
Cast: Vladimir Garin, Ivan Dobronravov, Konstantin Lavronenko, Natalya Vdovina

I assume that those that have watched this film can be divided into two camps; those that think it is an allegorical masterpiece, and those that think it is a meaningless load of old codswallop. Which camp do I belong to? Well, I’m honestly not sure. I certainly liked the film. Loved it, even. But as to its meaning, I really don’t know. Some have suggested that it is a biblical allegory, but I have no frame of reference there, so can neither confirm nor deny this. But does that make it a more successful film? Is religious symbolism inherently more worthwhile than physical actuality?

Of course when a film is as blatantly enigmatic as this, one can always project whatever meaning one wants onto the action. Is my own personal interpretation of a film more or less important than the intentions of the filmmakers? I suppose it all depends upon one’s definition of art, and this is certainly a work of art.

The film, set against a bleak and desolate landscape, beautifully photographed by Mikhail Krichman with a palette of greys and blues, revolves around a father’s (Konstantin Lavronenko) return home after an absence of twelve years, and the subsequent road trip he takes with his two sons. The eldest son, Andrei (Vladimir Garin) hangs on his every word, but the youngest son, Ivan (the remarkable Ivan Dobronravov) is more wary.

There is a scene at the beginning of the film in which a number of boys, including Ivan and Andrei, are jumping from a tower into a lake. Ivan is the only boy that is unable to find the courage to jump. He stubbornly refuses to climb down and the rest of the boys leave him there. He sits shivering until his mother comes for him the next morning. Might all that happens subsequently be his fevered dream as he sits atop the tower cursing his father for having not taught him to be a man? The film certainly does have a dreamlike quality that also, somehow, makes the father’s tough love/abusive parenting skills seem more palatable. When the father abandons Ivan at the side of the road in pouring rain for several hours, one gets the feeling that those several hours passed as quickly for the characters as they did for us the viewer. Is it all just petulant, adolescent fantasy?

If we take the film at face value, it is a beautiful and moving exploration of familial relationships, parenting, conflict, fear, and life lessons. And from that aspect alone it is a hauntingly beautiful and quite unforgettable masterpiece. So the question really is, does it actually matter whether or not there is some other underlying meaning?vv686

Interiors (1978)

2008-06-24T12:20:00.019+01:00

Writer/Director: Woody Allen
Cinematographer: Gordon Willis
Cast: Kristin Griffith, Mary Beth Hurt, Richard Jordan, Diane Keaton, E.G. Marshall, Geraldine Page, Maureen Stapleton, Sam Waterston

When I first discovered the joys of Woody Allen, Interiors came as something of a shock. Where was the man who could effortlessly blend solemn introspection with great belly-laughs? Where was my Woody? I perhaps didn’t feel the revulsion and disdain that some did, but it was definitely one of the dullest things that I had ever witnessed. So imagine my surprise, when on a recent re-viewing I became entranced, enraptured even. How could I have been so wrong all those years ago?

It is in fact something of a masterpiece. Although, masterpiece may be too strong a word for it, as I do still have some reservations. Flawed masterpiece, perhaps. Nevertheless, the first half of the film still drags somewhat, with the dialogue often seeming awkward and self conscious, but perhaps this is deliberate as most of the characters are rather unhappy with their lot.

The film revolves around a wealthy artistic family. The father (E.G. Marshall), unhappy with his emotionally fragile wife (the sublime Geraldine Page), leaves the family home and takes up with the life-embracing, and as such polar opposite of his wife, Pearl (the brilliant Maureen Stapleton). The mother, with a history of emotional problems, is devastated by the separation and struggles to cope with her ageing. The eldest daughter, Renata (Diane Keaton), a successful writer, struggles to integrate her success into the context of her life, and her husband, Frederick (Richard Jordan), also a writer, but not a successful one, struggles to deal with his lack of success in light of his wife’s acclaim. The middle daughter, Joey (Mary Beth Hurt), is an artist with neither talent nor an art form. She is full of deep feeling and emotion, but has no way of channelling, her supportive husband, Mike (Sam Waterston), is surprisingly well-balanced and the youngest daughter, Flyn (Kristin Griffith), an aspiring actress, who does her best to hide her unhappiness, self-medicates with cocaine.

The film comes to life in its second half when the characters stop talking and Gordon Willis’s camera starts to talk. The mise-en-scène is bold and adventurous, and far more moving than any dialogue ever could be, with the largely static set-ups appearing to capture the souls of these troubled characters.

One mustn’t underestimate the importance of the Allen/Willis partnership. Interiors follows the masterful Annie Hall, and is followed by the delightful Manhattan, Allen’s magnum opus Stardust Memories, the amusing A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy, the minor masterpiece Zelig, the inspired Broadway Danny Rose, and the sublime The Purple Rose of Cairo. If only the partnership had continued.vv686

Stalag 17 (1953)

2008-06-23T11:25:00.023+01:00

Director: Billy Wilder
Writer: Billy Wilder, Edwin Blum, Donald Bevan, Edmund Trzcinski
Cinematographer: Ernest Laszlo
Cast: William Holden, Don Taylor, Otto Preminger, Robert Strauss, Harvey Lembeck, Richard Erdman, Peter Graves, Neville Brand, Sig Ruman, Michael Moore, Peter Baldwin

The war movie hero, that most selfless of creatures, willing to risk life and limb for all and sundry, a mainstay of wartime fiction. But you won’t find him here! William Holden plays Sefton, a man that could drive a nun to violence. Self-obsessed, materialistic, with seldom a thought for anyone but himself. He is the type of man that has coffee and eggs for breakfast, whilst those around him have to make do with a ladle of washing-up water. Unsurprisingly he is not the most popular resident of Stalag 17, a Second World War Prison camp housing American air force sergeants.

When an escape attempt goes tragically wrong, leaving two American prisoners dead, a mole is suspected and suspicions turn towards Sefton. The thinking being that anyone that has as many privileges as he does must be trading something more important than cigarettes with the German guards. It also doesn’t help that he was taking bets on the failure of the escape attempt.

When smiling assassin, prison guard Sergeant Schulz (an amusing Sig Ruman) confiscates the prisoners’ illicit radio, suspicions of a traitor are cemented. The final straw comes when new arrival Lieutenant Dunbar (Don Taylor), a man that Sefton openly despises, whom has just regaled his new barracks mates with a tale of destroying a German ammunitions train, is arrested for said act. Sefton is summarily beaten, and vows to find the real culprit.

Adapted from Donald Bevan and Edmund Trzcinski’s tremendously successful Broadway play by Billy Wilder and Edwin Blum, Stalag 17 is riotously funny. Filmmaker Otto Preminger is hilariously straight-faced as the camp commandant von Scherbach, a man that has his boots put on to speak to a superior officer on the telephone, and walks around the camp grounds on a series of wooden planks laid by his subordinates. The duo of Shapiro (Harvey Lembeck) and Animal (Robert Strauss), obsessed with the Soviet women prisoners, illicit booze, mouse racing and Betty Grable are a wonderful double act.

But the film’s greatest strength is the character of Sefton. All too often, in a mainstream movie, when a character is shown in an unflattering light, he is later given an opportunity to redeem himself with some totally out of character selfless act of heroism. Thankfully, that is not the case here. Although Sefton is eventually redeemed, and does in fact become the hero, his actions are only ever motivated by self-preservation or material gain. He doesn’t grow. He doesn’t change. He is Sefton!vv686

Places to See - Machu Picchu

2008-06-21T10:06:00.014+01:00

.
The truly spectacular Machu Picchu in Peru.

xx464

Cheating in Football

2008-06-20T08:35:00.009+01:00

The most disheartening aspect of watching the currently running European Championships is the various television commentators’ reactions to cheating. We have been witness to several instances in each and every match, yet comments have ranged from the casual mention to not mentioning it at all. It is a sad time, indeed, when we have become so desensitised to diving and feigning injury that we no longer feel the need to comment upon it. Cheating has become commonplace, the norm even.

FIFA, UEFA, and all the other various football associations continue to ignore the problem. Is it any wonder that cheating is increasing year upon year. The footballing authorities ignore it, the television stations ignore it. Children are growing up assuming that cheating is normal and acceptable.

Which, of course it isn’t, or at least shouldn’t be. I don’t understand how anyone can take any pleasure from winning by underhanded methods. I would only ever want to be victorious by being more accomplished than my opponent, winning by any other means would surely result in a hollow and meaningless victory.

The solution? Well the solutions are quite simple:

1. The media should “name and shame” each and every cheat, on each every occasion that they cheat.

2. FIFA, UEFA, CONMEBOL, CONCACAF, AFC, CAF, OFC, and all the various national football associations should introduce retroactive punishment for cheating offences, ushering in suspensions and fines for diving and feigning injury.

In other words, we should behave in a civilised manner, and encourage civilised behaviour.vv575

Northern Exposure (1990-1995)

2008-06-18T14:23:00.017+01:00

My ten favourite Northern Exposure episodes.

1. Mite Makes Right (1994)
2. Fish Story (1994)
3. Aurora Borealis: A Fairy Tale for Big People (1990)
4. Cicely (1992)
5. Burning Down the House (1992)
6. Crime and Punishment (1992)
7. Zarya (1994)
8. The Big Kiss (1991)
9. Things Become Extinct (1992)
10. Shofar, So Good (1994)zz242