The Kids are Alright

Wednesday 2nd February 2011

Downstairs at the Prince Charles Cinema

The Kids Are All Right is the story of a lesbian couple Nic and Jules, played by Annette Bening and Julianne Moore respectively, they live in a wealthy suburb of Los Angeles with their two biologically created children Joni and Laser. There is just one problem however, Joni is about to leave for University and to fulfil the wishes of her brother she seeks out the pairs biological father, Paul (played by Mark Ruffalo). They meet in his trendy, green friendly restaurant and whilst Laser is cautious of the free spirited Paul his easy going demeanour strikes an endearing chord with Joni, who invites him into the nucleus of the family. 

The script tackles its subject of same sex marriages with the depth and thoughtfulness it deserves. Whilst Nic is a clearly a typical representation of lesbian femininity, Julianne Moore's Jules gives a more dynamic and complex portrayal as the uncommitted, confused recreational landscape gardener. This is of course a thoroughly contemporary portrayal of lesbianism and same-sex marriage - with Nic and Jules' longevity and commitment to one another carefully construed through their cosy affection for one another. The role of the kids, Joni and Laser plays an significant part in this depiction of the non-nuclear family as a harmonious easy going bunch. One sequence in particular where the parents describe how they first met through the problem of Jules' numb tongue is handled with brilliant poise, full of immaculate comic timing and brilliantly knowing looks.

The film is shot with a deft, Hollywood sheen to it all whilst the locations never veer far from LA prosperity - this is the middle classes in their most unconventional form, a same sex marriage. Thus, it is the performances which are really to be admired here. In particular Mia Wasikowska gives a brilliant turn as the thoughtful, intelligent Joni seeking out her place within the world but never becoming the overly dramatic, trouble teen we so often see portrayed in these dramas. Playing a free spirited, easy going single male with whom the audience can emphasise with is no easy feat but Mark Ruffalo does a sterling job portraying the kind-hearted, uber cool birth father of Paul. Interestingly following the introduction of Buffalo's character, the films narrative goes off into a rather predictable tangent. This is not at the cost of the light hearted, humorous tone which opens the film but the focus does slowly shift to away from the endearing characters of Joni and Laser towards those of their parents. Becoming a well worn routine of self questioning and doubt from the adult minds. Whilst the opportunities for breaks of humour are endless during these sequences the director opts towards a moral conclusion that in effect outlines what Hollywood melodramas have done for years - 'marriage is never easy folks'. Indeed Jules' concluding speech delivered in the cosy environment of the living room, borders on the cringe-worthily righteous and is full of Hollywood moral cliches but nonetheless allows the film to draw to a neat close. As Laser summarises - 'you guys shouldn't break up, your too old'.

Overall this is a thoroughly enjoyable, light-hearted affair that perhaps could have ventured to more interesting realms as the story had progressed. Nonetheless it demonstrates more than anything else the importance of an interesting screenplay - one that's full of dynamic conflicting relationships, witty one liners and brilliantly crafted scenes. The Hollywood sheen to the whole affair wasn't as irritating as I had expected and having being set underneath those famous white letters, the look felt appropriately at ease with this contemporary tale of love and forgiveness.

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Catfish

Thursday 27th January 2011
Upstairs at the Prince Charles Cinema

Fact or Fiction? is not normally a question a documentary filmmaker would want his audience to be asking as they come out of the cinema but in the case of Catfish it is a valid, if ultimately irrelevant, question. Directed by film students Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost, this contemporary tale of deception, love and betrayal treads a fine line between the acceptable and absurd in keeping with it's subject's own weakness in life - Facebook. Nev, a New York photographer strikes up a relationship with the seemingly attractive Megan, whose sister has sent him a painting of his well published photograph. Their relationship is established first online and then through endless amount of phonecalls between the pair, calls that will take on a cringeworthy, side-splittingly funny role as the story progresses. As the relationship progresses Nev utilises a number technological devices in a bid to discover more about his new found romance. The camera zooms around Google Earth outlining the physical distance between the two, Google Street reveals the house Megan lives in to Nev amongst other more revelatory finds whilst the pairs Facebook messages are shot in stark close-ups filling the cinema screen with bright computer light.

All is not as it appears though and as Nev along with his two director friends decide to take a visit to see Megan, the films slip into a dark realm that threatens to tip towards a harrowing conclusion but eventually becomes a story of understanding and forgiveness in the face of the betrayal. The film provides no answers to the problems Nev faces rather provides understanding to the dangers of social interaction through forms such as Facebook. As Peter Bradshaw recently noted The Social Network 'shrewdly suggested that Facebook's popularity lies in allowing its users to regulate their contact with other people, to present and manipulate an image of themselves in ways previously available only to celebrities' and indeed Catfish is the harrowing after-thought of this notion. 1 How much of this documentary is true to life is irrelevant as far as I'm concerned. Go and see this for it's honesty, it's humour and most of all its moral value in this the new digital age of Facebook.

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1 Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian, 16th December 2010

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The Social Network

Thursday 27th January 2011
Downstairs at the Prince Charles Cinema

Providing a neat double header with Catfish, The Social Network opens with brilliantly zesty, frantic dialogue sequence with protagonist Mark Zukerburg (played by Jesse Eisenberg), the founder of Facebook and his soon to be ex-girlfriend Erica Albright. It's dialogue that has the West Wing's Aaron Sorkin's written all over it and with the dab hand of director David Fincher, The Social Network excels in becoming much more than a film about colleague kids threatening one another to 'lawyer up asshole'. Told through a varying array of flashbacks The Social Network tells the story of the beginnings of Facebook and the ensuing legal battle Zuckerburg had with fellow Harvard students desperate for a piece of the Billionaire pie. Interestingly, Sorkin and Fincher resist giving Zukerburg any substantial backstory. We know little of where he is originally from and about the upbringing he had although this being Harvard even British audiences will be acutely aware this is hardly a rags to riches tale. The manner in which Zuckerburg's invention and launch of Facebook is constructed - seemingly over a few nights of 'Eureka' moments with a crate of beers in front of his laptop - clearly seeks empathy from the audience with the otherwise unlikable character of Zuckerburg. Indeed as the credits roll up to the tune of The Beatles 'Baby You're a Rich Man' and the Facebook owner's current fortune is revealed one can't help but wonder - 'it could have been me' (of course it couldn't, but nonetheless this is the overriding impression Sorkin and Fincher's portrayal leaves upon us).

Jesse Eisenberg puts in a thoroughly acceptable if at times one dimensional portrayal of the future billionaire whilst surprisingly Justin Timberlake is utterly convincing as Zukerburg's mentor and eventual business partner Sean Parker. It is however, I would argue Andrew Garfield as Zukerburg's college roommate Eduardo Saverin who gives the most impressive, dynamic performance. Having plied his trade with a host of British television roles the future Spiderman is developing into an accomplished screen presence and his portrayal of the naive, fool hardy Eduardo provides the perfect antithesis to the arrogance and greed of Eisenberg's Zukerburg. In most part it is a film that is confined to long dialogue sequences played out within the University halls and lawyers hearings although when the writing is this good and delivered with such stellar performances and poised direction, the story becomes elevated in both credibility and cultural significance.

It looks a two horse race between this and The Kings Speech for the highest accolade at the Academy Awards this February and interestingly the two films share a familiar and recurrent theme; the effect of new technology has upon our lives. Whereas Sean Parker champions the coming of the Facebook revolution; 'We lived on farms, we lived in cities, now we live on the internet'. For George V the advances in radio technology are a position of threat to his standing as a monarchial figure - 'In the past, all a king had to do was look respectable in uniform and not fall off his horse. Now we must invade people's homes and speak... This family is reduced to those lowest, basest of all creatures. We've become... actors!'. It's an interesting parallel between the two and indeed further readings will be drawn from the result of the Academy Awards - American vs British, Contemporary vs Historical and so on. I for one hope The King Speech wipes the floor but for a film about the fight for a billion dollar franchise by a group of largely detestful American colleague students The Social Network is a commendable effort.

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Gasland

Wednesday 26th January 2011
Screen Six at Empire Leicester Square

Gasland opens with first time Director Josh Fox pondering why a company is offering $100,000 to drill for natural gas on the lands around their house in rural Pennsylvania. On closer inspection what first appears  seemingly lucrative offer to the audience becomes the catalyst for Fox to embark on a road trip across the States exposing the inhumane nature of natural gas drilling (or hydraulic fracturing) and thus offering a chilling warning to us all in it's dangers.

As Fox travels the nation exposing the extreme environmental hazards caused by the drilling companies, making no bones about who is to blame for it all. As vice president and CEO of Halliburton, Dick Cheney brought in legislation allowing energy companies to ignore key environmental acts pushed through by president Nixon in 1972. As Nigel Andrews neatly puts it, 'Gasland may be the first ever American film in which Nixon is the hero. It is the 101st in which Dick Cheney is the villain'. 1 Indeed whilst the influence of Michael Moore is apparent throughout Fox's debut, Gasland makes it's argument through clear, raw evidence and stark, powerful encounters which those most affected. In many ways, from the point we see tap water being set alight by a single flame the argument is made and concluded in the most visual of senses. However Fox's argument is not always delivered in such a powerful manner. His use of graphics detailing numerous different chemicals found within water reserves, whilst crucial in many respects, become tiresome on occasions and are perhaps not greatly helped by Fox's dreary, monotone voice. However it's images such as the UV thermal picture of a condensation tank that to the naked eye appear harmless but the UV shows toxic hydrocarbons billowing from the container at an alarming rate, that are the real prize assets to Fox's argument.

At times the first time Director shows a natural ability in constructing powerful cinematic images akin to the likes of Micheal Moore. Standing alone in front of a set of hydraulic drills and billowing condesate tanks, he slips on a gas mask and plays his beloved bango to an empty contaminated field. It's a iconic, striking image that evokes the sweeping symbolic images of Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11, and along with the films beautiful closing shots outlines the potential for Fox to go on to bigger and better things. 2 However, in terms of challenging those responsible for the hydraulic fracturing you could argue Fox is disappointingly sheepish when confronting those at fault. Where his contemporaries would have gone in all guns blazing, Fox shows a naivety with his questioning at times - a point clearly linked to the apparent lack of outside influence and guidance upon his work. Whereas the work of Moore relies heavily on the use of archive footage and interviews with high profile figures, the feeling throughout is that Fox has done this all off his own back primarily out of care for those whose suffering the worst from the evils of Cheney and the energy companies. Thus, with a hand held camera and a little know how, Fox has produced a powerful and insightful documentary that due to it's human story of pain and suffering at the hands of the men at the top has a far reaching and universal appeal. If Fox's closing warning is anything to go by, I'll be looking twice at my tap water from now on.

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1 Nigel Andrews, Financial Times,  January 12th 2011

2 Sam Davies, Sight and Sound, February 2011, p.55

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Neds

Monday 24th January 2011
Screen Two at the Curzon Renior

Peter Mullen returns after eight years since his last directorial outing with the brash, hard-hitting Neds. John McGill (played by newcomer Connor McCarron) is a bright, young Catholic schoolboy who hold highs aspirations of a University education and life away from the brutal gang violence his notorious brother is embroiled within. McGill's ambition is undermined by the violent figure of his alcoholic father, the overt class prejudice he suffers at school and his close family ties to local ne'er-do-wells of the sink estate he grows up on. His decline into a knife welding 'Ned' is an inevitable one and to many will seem too abrupt and simplistic. However with Mullen's now well-established, bold and brash cinematic style at its most confident and brooding this tale of gang violence makes for compelling, essential viewing.

Mullen has described the film as 'personal, but not autobiographical'. He elaborates, 'I would say that maybe 10% of it actually happened and the other 90% is fiction; little anecdotes I've heard over the years, stories I've been told and things I've just made up'. 1  Indeed drawing upon his own experiences Mullen's third film would appear on first hand to belong firmly within the social realist traditions of Ken Loach and Alan Clarke. However, Mullen is clearly uneasy at being placed within such a realm, 

'I get bored with naturalism and social realism... I get restless with it. If one has an imagination, one should use it... Towards the end of the story I thought 'Let's let go of any form of social realism. Let's go more towards Greek tragedy and - fuck it - pantomime''. 2

Unfortunately although Mullen's eagerness to break away from such realist traditions is commendable, for it's adventurousness if nothing else, it at these points where the films takes upon a strangely disjointed and fragmented feel. The final sequence in particular is a bewildering affair that some may be able to pull interesting allegorical readings from but on the whole seems significantly at odds with the brilliantly brash portrayal of McGills rise within the Glasgow underworld. In many ways I would love to see Mullen follow Shane Meadows (Somers Town) and rush out a straight forward social realist drama that'd come in under an hour and a half, and be devoid of the frankly irritating religious symbolism that's so prevalent in his work.

The cinematography on display here is nonetheless, nothing short of breathtaking. As with his debut Orphans, Mullen makes full use of a dynamic, bold colour palate to portray a heightened sense of drama, one that's hard to envision the likes of Loach employing but one that never conflicts with the realist elements on display. The film is peppered with scenes of brutal gang confrontation and violence; there are two scenes in particular one involving a paving stone and another with two knives strapped to our protagonist hands that will remain with the most hard faced of audiences. However, for me, there is something annoyingly cliche at the sight of two gangs of feral youth running full pelt at one another on the big screen, more often than not accompanied by a pounding 'pop' soundtrack. Mullen's film doesn't glamourise these battles in the way the recent football hooligan cycle of films does (Awaydays, Football Factory) but perhaps as a result of the lazy treatment these films give to such voilence the credibility of these sequences becomes questionable at times. This is of course me picking holes in what is a thoroughly enjoyable, significant and honest British film one that can proudly sit alongside the work of Clarke, Loach and Meadows in it's depiction of the limited social mobility open to working-class males. Whilst it is clearly set in past the story is as significant in today's climate as it would have been in the 1970s. Indeed rather depressingly, a remake with today's track suited Neds taking a starring role would be far from a difficult film to make.

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1 Peter Mullen, Screen International, September 4th 2009, p. 15

2 Demetrios Matheou, Sight and Sound, February 2011, p. 41

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The Kings Speech

Monday 10th January 2011
Screen One at Muswell Hill Odeon

On first impressions The Kings Speech appears a familiarly British affair; an historical drama full of period details, monarchical relations and the foremost of British acting talent. However, whilst Tom Hooper's latest shares a number of aesthetic and thematic elements to that of the Merchant-Ivory tradition, this is a much more amusing, intriguingly complex and heartfelt cinematic piece.

The film begins in 1925 with King George V's younger, Albert Duke of York (or Bertie as he's known by his fellow royals) attempting and failing to deliver a speech in front of the masses at Wembley Staduim. For Albert has the speech impediment, better known as a 'stammer'. This is a character study, a study of a stammering monarch. A study played out, despite the global implications of  Bertie's speech impediment,  in the most part within the confines of sparsely decorated Edwardian drawing rooms. Shot with a strong dose of visual flair, switching between beautifully framed wide shots to stark emotive close-ups this is a film that displays like no other the frustrating and confiding effect a stammer can have upon an individual.

When asked by Simon Mayo for his thoughts on the films opening scene and the initial construction of Bertie's character Colin Firth who brilliantly portrays the future King replied,

"I think this is one of the interesting aspects of the way the story is set up, the way Tom Hooper made it so personal, the way he came into peoples faces. You don't see (Albert) stepping out of a limo or a gold carriage, you see him in a squalid, damp corridor... utterly terrified. He's wearing a top hat and coat of the time but he's not wearing a crown and robes. So when you see him up on the microphone for the first time, you just see a human being doing what people fear most, public speaking." 1

Firth makes a very interesting point, far from the depiction of the monarchy in recent drama's such as Stephen Frears' The Queen Tom Hooper's portrayal of the vulnerable and eventually triumphant King Albert shows the monarchy in an ever more sympathetic and humanistic light, one that will resonate on both sides of the Atlantic with the royal wedding looming this Easter.

The film centres upon Albert's relationship with an Australian therapist Lionel Logue (played by Geoffrey Rush); a outsider, a foreigner and most significantly a 'commoner'. It's the dynamic between the two figures that Hooper plays upon to the greatest effect. Logue takes great pleasure in deriding the future King's previous medical advisers: "They're all idiots!", "They've been knighted!" replies Bertie. "Makes it official then, doesn't it?". Indeed such verbal sparring between the two abrasive characters is the films real joy rather than any of the triumphant sentiment of the films conclusion. For Firth, it's his third role as a stammering lead and his depiction of future King Albert is so expertly crafted and beautifully performed you begin to wonder if the Oscar nominee took his stammer and royal gown home with him from set each night. In an interview with The Guardian Firth reveals the physical impact the role had upon him,

'It had an effect on my body – headaches. I had to learn to stammer and then play someone trying desperately not to. It put my left arm to sleep – it was very peculiar. I must have been locking something, pinching a nerve. It was a semi-paralysis that would last for three or four days'. 2

Firth clearly put his all into this role and whilst he has never been regarded as a method actor in the same vein as the Brando's and De Niro's of this world, his portrayal of 'Bertie' is as heartfelt and as flawless a performance we are probably likely to ever see from him. An Oscar certainty if there ever was one. Rush on the other hand provides the perfect partner for Firth's character to bicker, console and rectify his growing concerns with. Probably best know prior to this as Borbassa from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, Rush plays the Australian therapist with a brooding, underlining confidence that only experience can bring to such a role.

The social and political gravitas behind Albert's stammer is carefully built into the film, and is alluded to through poignant sequences. As Albert watches a clip of Hitler with his younger daughter she asks, 'what's he saying?'. 'I don't know but he seems to be saying it rather well' replies Albert in the downtrodden he adopts as his predicament reigns in on him. Indeed it is the threat of world war with Nazi Germany that gives the King's Speech it's historical and cultural significance, with the advent of live radio broadcasts the expectant King's verbal ineptitude adopts a new global significance. With Winston Churchill (aptly played by Timothy Spall) taking the head position in the run up to war Albert's role is one of national speaker and as he puts it himself; 'If I am King, where is my power? Can I declare war? Form a government? Levy a tax? No! And yet I am the seat of all authority because they think that when I speak, I speak for them and I can't speak'.

Overall, The Kings Speech is a triumph of British filmmaking one that critics and cinema audiences will look upon fondly for years to come. Heavily financed by the UK Film Council, the question remains where British films of a similar ilk are to come from in the future. Although if this is to be the last of it's kind for a while then what better way to revel in the homegrown directorial and acting talent on show. It's not quite a case of 'The British are Coming!' as it was with Chariots of Fire in 1982 but if directors such as Tom Hooper continue with such brash and confident filmmaking, there's no doubt the nations film industry will recover from the recent cuts by the Tory government.

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1 Colin Firth, BBC Radio 5 live Kermode and Mayo's Film Review, 7th January 2011
2 Colin Firth, The Guardian, 9th January 2011
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Chico and Rita

Thursday 6th January 2011
Upstairs at the Prince Charles Cinema

 

Chico and Rita is a love story in the simplest of terms that touches on the social and political changes surrounding the lives of Jazz musician Chico (voiced by Emar Xor Ona) and singer Rita (voiced by Limara Meneses). The film charts the meeting of the two lovers through a series of flashbacks taking them from pre-revolution Cuba through post-war 1940's New York  and right up to the modern day. The animation has come in for high critical praise and there is no doubt it's both unique or intriguing to watch. Although as much as it captures the warm soulful feel of the Jazz music the protagonist dance, party and make love to, it fails to maintain the emotion and depth of that displayed in say, Sylvain Chomet's The Illusionist. In particular the characters faces, often shown in stark ever-growing close ups, hold a strange stiffness at times making empathy towards them a challenging emotion.

The film does, of course touch upon many social changes and movements of the time, with the civil rights movement and the Cuban revolution being the most notable of these. Whilst seeing these portrayed through animation is undoubtably intriguing viewing, the film falls short in many occasions in it's attempt to merge the authenticity of the love story with the social and political background it's played out against. This raises an important problem one that Lisa Mullen outlines perfectly in her review for Sight and Sound, 

'for all it's mesmerisingly detailed evocation of a particular time and place, the film remains resolutely in the realm of the non-real, eliding or editing out any detail that doesn't conform to the vision of its makers and contribute to the story they are telling.'1

Thus although the film is clearly set within the world of the non-real, the depiction of real-life events in an seemingly inaccurate manner is an unavoidable problem the creators face. Thus when Chico and Rita return to Havana as the Cuban revolution is in full swing, our attention is drawn to the clean untouched streets and the smiling clean faced army troops wave to the public as they drive past. The purity of these sequence smacks of idealistic imagery and lacks the cultural authenticity this animation cries out for. Another case in point is the handling of the civil right movement. Whilst the prominence of whites-only night spots is clearly an accurate portrayal of the discrimination of the times, the absence of any significant non prejudiced white characters is problematic. Discounting the female tourists of Havana whose lack of racial prejudice is placed firmly alongside their sexual promiscuity, the manner in which this issue is tackled is strangely one dimensional and simplistic.

This is not to take away from the enjoyment of the film however. With a brilliantly chosen soundtrack and a intriguing range of emotive dialogue and perhaps the greatest cartoon love scene of all time, it deserves a worthy mention within the ever growing repertoire of adult animation films. The dream sequence, in which Chico meets Humphrey Bogart's Rick Blaine who quickly morphs in a gun wielding Phillip Marlowe, is so full of energy, colour, inventiveness and creativity that one wonders why the whole film couldn't have been so refreshing.

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1 Lisa Mullen, Sight and Sound, December 2010, p. 57
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127 Hours

Wednesday 5th Jan 2011
Screen 9 at VUE Islington

When asked on being approached by Danny Boyle to work on 127 Hours screenwriter Simon Beaufoy remarked,

"I just laughed I thought, 'Of all the mountaineering stories, of which there are many, he's gone and chosen the one that can't be told' - a guy on his own who doesn't even move. And, of course that's exactly why Danny would head straight for it. If something's impossible, then he's really interested." 1

Indeed the choice of story by Boyle is as brash as ever and due to the well-known nature of it's outcome, poses an interesting challenge for the 54 year old director. Having wiped the floor of the Acedemy Awards with 2008's Slumdog Millionaire,  Boyle's success has clearly given him certain amount of power when dealing with the Hollywood mogul elite. Just as Christopher Nolan following the success of The Dark Night was given free reign by Warner Bros to make the film he always wanted to make, you can't help but feel that without the Oscar on his mantlepiece it would have been near impossible for Boyle to consider telling the tale of Aron Ralston, a mountaineer who having been caught between a rock and a hard place (literally) has no way out other than to amputate his own trapped arm.

Danny Boyle is that rare breed of British director. His films span multiple genres collaborating with a variety of writers and producers both inside and outside Hollywood, as James Mottram writes "he is seen as the very antithesis of the auteur". 2 Whilst this title may suggest a lack of congruent themes running through Boyle's work, and upon first glance his films do may appear to share little with one another. The notion of entrapment is one such theme Boyle has returned to on a number of occasions, and never with such blatant rhetoric as with his latest. Be it the poverty stricken streets of Mumbai, the Thai prison walls of The Beach or the drug addled squats of Leith in Trainspotting, Boyle's protagonists have always had somewhere they would rather be. This sense of entrapment and struggle for freedom is typically played out by Boyle through an extraordinary range of ecstatic highs and catastrophic lows, think how Rentons passionate sex scene in Trainspotting accompanied by the nifty footwork of Archie Gemmil, is shortly followed by the paranoid hallucinations of his herion overdose. With 127 Hours, Boyle enthrals us with his brilliantly dynamic and heart stopping portrayal of Aron Ralston's extraordinary journey, which in distance is merely a stretch of canyon rock but measured in emotional and psychological discovery is perhaps his most far reaching and universal tale to date.

The majority of column inches written in the build up to this film were of course regarding the amputation scene, which is for all intents and purposes taken straight out of a gore-fest such as the Saw franchise. However to compare it to such a simplistic horror film is to miss the point entirely. The horrific nature of watching Ralston take to his own arm, stems more from the empathy which the audience holds for the lead, built mainly through his insightful and often hilarious monologues with the screen, rather than any of the tomato ketchup gore of the actual amputation. Indeed it's in his direct monologues with the camera where James Franco's acting prowess is given full opportunity to shine. In particular the TV game show role-play which Franco acts out with astute comical timing and knowing self pity is an absolutely gem that breaks the mood of the film perfectly. Interestingly Ralston was initially unwilling for Boyle to adapt his story into a drama piece, "he wanted to do it like Touching the Void. I always said it was an action movie where the hero can't move". 3 This persistence by Boyle to pursue the story under his terms eventually won through to Ralston. Hence the resulting meeting of minds can be drawn from Boyle's ironic use of Bill Withers 'Lovely Day' to accompany the protagonists first morning trapped within the canyon and Ralston naming his own best-selling account of events as 'Between a Rock and a Hard Place'.

With his direction Boyle pulls out all the stops to avoid the potential monotony of spending the large part of the film trapped within the Utah Bluejohn canyon walls, and as a result 127 Hours includes some of the most reverting cinematic sequences we are likely to see all year. From the hallucinations of chef Blue John from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and the mammoth figure of Scooby Doo to the quite remarkable flash-flood sequence which as Boyle notes "offers a dynamic deus ex machina, freeing Ralston and allowing him to reconnect with his ex-girlfriend, only to be rudely jolted back to his imprisonment". 4 The film is rich in colour, from the wide shots of the hyper orange of the canyon to the joyous opening split screen sequence of expansive, unified shots of crowds. This is a film that never sways from being anything other than cinematic. It's a mature piece that shows all the skills and ability Boyle has learnt of his craft over the years reaching the point where he has the confidence and ability to take on such a challenging project. In keeping with Academy Awards tradition for handing out Oscars for the wrong film, if there is any film shows Boyle's worth of such an accolade then it's his latest offering and not his last which displays it.
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1 Peter Debruge, Creative Screenwriting, November / December 2010 p. 21
2 James Mottram, Sight and Sound, February 2011 p.21
3 Peter Debruge, p. 23
4 Peter Debruge, p. 22
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The Illusionist

Tuesday 4th Jan 2011
Downstairs at the Prince Charles Cinema

This was my second viewing of Sylvain Chomet's beautifully crafted animation, with the week off work and £1.50 entry at the Prince Charles it was a no brainer. Although second time around it was never going to have the same stunning, unexpected impact as my first viewing, it was nonetheless just as intriguingly beautiful and melancholic as before. The Illusionist tells the story of a struggling lonesome magician, modelled on Jacque Tati and based upon a un-produced script by the French actor and director. The script upon which it is based is described as Tati's 'love letter from a father to a daughter' and the symbolism is there for all to see. Although as Richard Mowe points out, with his adaptation of the script Chomet's film is as much a love poem to the city of Edinburgh than it is homage to Tati's work. 1

As somebody admittedly not overly familiar with the work of Tati, it is the romantic and beautiful portrayal of Scotland and in particular it's charismatic capital that will stay with me the most. Chomet's animation paints the unique landscape, architecture and unruly weather of the famous festival landmark to perfection. As Alice climbs up on to arthurs seat and the camera pans across to show all encompassing castle and the high stone brick streets which surround it there really couldn't be a better postcard for the city (take note Edinburgh merchandise sellers).  Chomet's portrayal of the inhabitants of Scotland however is perhaps less calculated. The stereotypical characteristics border on parody at times, the ever drunk highlands bar owner and the kilt welding policemen being the clearest cases in point. Although you get the feeling Chomet knows the preposterous nature of these characters and enjoys the ability to sculpt these through his artwork, in the same way he joys in listing 'fried chocolate bars' on the menu for the local fish and chip shop.

However the narrative drive does undoubtably run to a hilt towards the end of the film. Indeed the ending will not be to everybody's taste although it is not the plot which is the main focus of this film. We are not overly concerned with where the protagonist future lies or for that matter that of his accomplice Alice. The focus of Chomet's animation is more towards the construction of a particular environment within a particular period of time.  The unnamed protagonist is as hapless, though an endearing soul you will find on our screens this year. This is in effect a silent film but Chomet's original score along with the sound work of Carl Goetgheluck more than account for the mumbling and grumbling of the animated characters. In fact more dialogue would have merely ruined what is a touching, endearing piece of cinema. Thus, just as our protagonists trade as a magician is painted as a dying form of entertainment, in the face of a new bred of rock n roll. Then should the 2d cell animation touted so strongly by Chomet become as much a dying and unsellable form in years to come then it is films such as these we will look back on as the last greats of a dying cinematic form.

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1 Richard Mowe, Boxoffice Magazine, 17th December 2010
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Of Gods and Men

Monday 3rd Jan 2011
Screen 2, Curzon Mayfair

I'm not ashamed to say I went along to this film purely on the strength of it's reviews and prominence in many a critics best of 2010 list. I'd never seen any of Xavier Beauvois films before, neither was I aware of the real-life story of the monks depicted in the film. Thus having read the numerous readings, both political and religious, critics have  taken from the film I am all too glad this was the case.

Beautifully shot, profoundly and immaculately acted 'Of Gods and Men' is a poised, calculated, yet deeply moving film that shines a light on the religious and colonial divides of a community under threat from a new wave of Islamic fundamentalism. Many critics have accused the film of displaying a profoundly anti-religous or pro-Christian message. However whilst the local muhajadeen and to less transparent effect the Algerian army are no doubt painted as the villains to the holy white-gowned monks, the overriding feeling is one empathy and compassion with those unwillingly caught up within these tragic circumstances. These being not only the tight-knit brotherhood of the monks but the local community in which they live within. Up until the arrival of Islamic militants, this is a community portrayed in the early sequences as a harmonious and unified group, a unity perhaps most clearly signified through doctor Luc's counselling and medical treatment of the local villagers.

The film maintains an intriguing and dignified pace throughout with Beauvois expertly juxtaposing the unhurried and hushed lives of the monks with that of the chaos and violence unravelling in the surrounding villages. It's this violence that, as much as we hope not, we as the audience know will at some point come crashing through the doors of the monks holy place of worship. The tension between the two extremes is perhaps best illustrated in the stunning sequence in which a military helicopter circles the monastery whilst the monks pray in unison together, arms linked and eyes closed. It's sequences where Beauvois direction is at it's most poignant, thus when the senior monks reveal to the local muslim elders that amongst the group debate is in motion as to whether to flee or not, the analogy is made that the monks are like birds on the edge of branches unsure whether to fly or not to which a female villager replies 'you are our branches without you we have nothing to stand upon'. Read out on the page the line appears overly melancholic and forthright but when delivered with such emotion and poised anguish it strikes an significant cord with the audience and resonates the unfortunate situation the villagers find themselves in.

Then comes the final sequence before the inevitable kidnap ensues, where the monks sit around the table, sharing red wine as Tchaikovsky's Grand Theme from Swan Lake bellows out of an old cassette tape player. The camera pans across the table focussing upon their worn, contrasting expressions some smiling, some nearer to tears. Not a word is spoken and it need not be, they are all resigned to their fate. They have stuck by their faith, have maintained their principles but what they know and adore, their lives in Algeria is about to be unduly taken away from them. To accuse this scene of being overdone, overly dramatic and the use of Tchaikovsky as far from subtle is an understandable reading. However I defy even the most cynical of viewer to witness this sequence and to focus upon the eldest looking of monks, who as luck would have it is the sole survivor of the kidnapping. As the camera cuts to a stark close up of him, his eyes fill to the brim just as that famous classical piece is reaching it's climax. It's a true 'lump in the throat' moment if there ever was one. Overall a stunning, stunning piece that will no doubt be a hot favourite for the  Acedemy Awards Foreign language award, and rightly so.
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