Auselan Reviews

Carmen Jones (1954)

An interesting pantomime

[5/10 · 1 March 2005]

Carmen was well choreographed and staged. Harry Belafonte's singing was worth it alone and his acting was equal to his leading lady's. However, soul singer 'Pearl Bailey' who sings 'beat out that rhythm on a drum'. is the best thing in the movie. She was too authentic for the film really (and, in one scene, is obviously taking the rip of the song they all have to sing - an absurd version of Toriador 'Stand up and fight until you hear the bell' etc). It was the sentimental script and lyrics that, for me, deflated any sense of tragedy. The characters were weak and their actions unsupported by any inner motivation.

Nevertheless, it was nice to see a film that was taking itself seriously for a change. I did enjoy it. I though Dorothy Dandridge's performance was weak (probably because of the absurd character she has to play): I can't believe she got an Oscar nomination for her little pantomime performance.

Deathwatch (2002)

Patchy authenticity, spoiled by cliche and cheap themes

[5/10 · 7 December 2002]

While there was a lot of potential intrigue for me personally watching this film (my grandfather, like the protagonist went "over the top" in the 1st World War, having signed up illegally at the age of 16), I steadily lost my interest as the films set pieces consistently failed to deliver, and galled me with their amateurish dialogue and clicheed characters.

Having got used to the gritty and historically accurate representations of war that recent films such as Enemy at the Gates and Saving Private Ryan (and its TV cousin Band of Brothers) I was eager to see the latest attempt to recreate the 'Great War'. Indeed Deathwatch is at times immersive, and awful in the way that the first war must have been - check the pictures at the Imperial War Museum, and you will immediately feel at home.

However...after a while, the presence of the rats becomes a little overdone, with several rats in every scene. Soon the thrill of witnessing the war wears off, and we want to concentrate on the story. This is where the film really disappoints. Attempting to raise our suspense, there is little to see or hear of the enemy at large, but ultimately we are not given the satisfaction of a real bad guy. Far from being unsettling and unnerving, the persistent (and ultimately complete) lack of a corporeal bad guy means the film ends up getting a bit boring. There seem to be endless English soldiers to maim in more or less entertaining ways, until finally we are thinking "good, another one less to get through before the end of the film".

It feels like too much time and energy was spent on making muddy faces and digging the trenches, and not enough on the story and its dynamism. Jamie Bell (who impressed so much in Billy Elliot) fails to hold the film. We know he is capable of it, but in place of the screentime he should have had, we have a bunch of ill-fated misfits who are all desperately trying to exert their identity. Without the benefit of strong and focussed direction, Jamies talents are diluted and wasted.

Also thrown in are some done-to-death themes such as the class struggle between officers and enlisted soldiers (which decays into just some good old snob-bashing - YAWN). There was never such a lack of decorum and hatred in the 1910s. Only in the latter half of the 20th century has the vehemence of the English working class been levelled at the upper class. This cheap bandwagon idea is an example of many that lower the film to the common denominator, and consign it to being 'just another supernatural thriller', and not something more. The English hate the Scotts? where did that one come from? Show me an Englishman who hates the Scottish, and I will find you 10 Scotsmen who hate the English.

I wondered why the film's rating was low on IMDb, but didn't let it put me off. Mistake. 5/10

True Lies (1994)

A good action film with some bonus depth and intelligence

[8/10 · 28 April 2002]

The title immediately introduces us to the pivotal theme of this film: paradox and deception. How can a lie be true? Deception and confounding is the name of the game and from the beginning we are given an array of misleading or paradoxical images. First a blade thrusts upward through ice on a lake, but instead of the elegant slim, Lady of the Lake dressed in white, we are greeted by beefy Arnold Schwarenegger in a jet black dry-suit, wearing night vision goggles – quite a subversion of our expectations. Then a computer boots up with its Windows screen, but the text is all in Arabic, a cognitive disturbance set against such an otherwise familiarly contained background and frame.

The theme is fleshed out as the protagonists' deceptions deepen by the minute: first we learn that, in his fake life Arnie is supposed to be a computer nerd – he bores his wife with his made up stories to keep her suspicions at bay, but is so effective that she has lost all respect for him and is being lured into an affair. Then we learn that his daughter is subtly deceptive – she thanks her father heartily for the snow-shaker he brings her (a present he didn't even buy) but then declares (out of his hearing) that it's lame, throwing it ungratefully in the bin before stealing money from her father's jacket.

Bill Paxton is a used car-salesman who tries seducing Jamie Lee-Curtis by pretending to be a spy; so Arnie puts an end to his endeavour by pretending to hire his wife as a spy to lure her from Bill Paxton and give her some less adulterous diversion. This doesn't only deepen the theme but it also affords a great opportunity for dramatic irony and a painfully absurd exposé of the bored housewife's vain aspirations as she gives a cringeable, sexy, and ultimately forceful pole dance for Arnie.

James Cameron's wonderful eye for action provides other eye-pleasing displays, notably the motorcycle versus horse chase in which the contrast between the sensible beast and the dumb machine captivates us. Interestingly, our stereotypical terrorist bad-guy is actually proven to be rather brave; leaping a massive distance on his bike from one building to another, and later jumping onto Arnie's plane. The Harrier Jump-Jet sequence is excellent and original action material, leads up to a (somewhat hammy) classic action/comedy finale.

Our epilogue neatly brings us right back to where we started – at a ball in a wonderful ballroom in Europe, this time however things are as they should be – Arnie's passion is channelled into his wife, restoring our faith in their love and marriage. Carried through by sterling performances from Arnie and Jamie, this is a very entertaining action film that deserves to be watched a few times at least. 8/10

Manhattan (1979)

The most overrated movie ever?

[6/10 · 17 April 2002]

This is the cinematic equivalent of a pond skater: never piercing the surface, just fidgeting around in aimless panicked superficiality. The film has no depth; the characters are pointless non-serious no-bodies; the pseudo-intellectualising has no moral / psychological direction and no foundation in knowledge (Keats's phrase ‘negative capability' is misused twice without any allusion to the poet). The only serious person is the seventeen year old girl who is dismissed as a stupid kid with a Mickey mouse voice: when presented with the profound talent and a wise fidelity of Mariel Hemingway's character this is all the film can come up with. The reason why the film and Woody Allen have been so successful is because they never compete against anything above their own very low level. The film is full of people each of them more pathetic or superficial than the next, so that it is hard to realise that they are all such a waste of time – each of them justifying the other's lack of values. The same can be said of Woody Allen: there is no one else in the history of cinema who has had so little ability, but so high an opinion of himself; he stands alone because he is the only person with such an extraordinarily mediocre vision to dare to reach so high; to project his nothingness no relentlessly. The film is only great as far as Mariel Hemingway is great: she is great and she has the last word ergo the film is great. She carries the whole film through and tops it off, despite Allen's inability to work himself up to any profound emotional state for the finale (even with the strenuous running).

Pulp Fiction (1994)

A paradoxical clarification of our confusing world

[9/10 · 16 September 2001]

Some people think that Pulp Fiction is unique because of its formlessness. However, not only does the film have form, stereotypical characters and a traditional moral framework, but it is a self-proclaimed derivative tribute to other classic films. Pulp Fiction is unique, paradoxically, because of its laborious adherence to cinematic tradition.

Except for the ending, the form is mostly linear: the coffee-shop incident is succeeded by Travolta's story (with Uma Thurman) which is followed by Bruce Willis' story. The opening scene in the coffee-shop jumps back in time slightly (like a nudged record needle ) and what follows is the Samuel L. Jackson (with Travolta) interrogation scene; a dislocation which is reversed, or put right, at the end where the interrogation scene is followed by the coffee-shop scene (temporally correct).

The final section of the film covers the time-period just before the start of the film and ends just after the start of the film. It charts the bloody conclusion to the interrogation scene; Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta's baptismal hose-down (the head of the hose, looking like a gun, punishes them with a cold jet and cleanses them of their sin, like a re-birth; instead of being shot with bullets, they are chastised with water and re-clothed in ordinary civilian, rather than gangster, clothes) and ends with Jackson's conversion. In the coffee-shop Samuel L. Jackson – the character with the most authority, partly due to his powerful Old Testament prose – has a religious revelation and gives up his gangster life. It is the extremity with which this cliché (gangster has revelation and gives up bad life) is executed that makes it unique; it is the excessive conservatism of Jackson's divine enlightenment – with the miraculous escape from the bullets, the harsh baptism, and the gradual understanding of the bible quote he has repeated all his life – that is so shocking and surreal. It is his complete lack of distinctiveness (his wallet doesn't have his name written on it, but ‘Bad Mother F***er' – it may as well read ‘Bad Guy') that makes him so memorable and iconic.

A work of fiction that focuses on character-in-action is moralistic by default; morality being the manifestation of psychology when it interacts with the world. The film tells three short-stories which focus on a certain character and end with that character reaching the moral high point of his life (like the thousands and thousands of other stories, both timeless and corny). The first one involves Travolta and Thurman, the gangster boss's wife and ends with him saving her life, delivering her home safely before walking away (rather than sleeping with her). The second is an escape story involving Bruce Willis which ends with him saving the gangster boss who was originally trying to kill him for an earlier misdemeanour. The third and final story is the story of Samuel L. Jackson, ending with his conversion.

It's a shockingly good film, with an absolutely inspired absurdity to it.

• ‘Pigs are filthy animals – I don't eat filthy animals.' - ‘Yeah, but bacon tastes good; pork chops taste good.' - ‘…Pigs sleep and root and shit – that's a filthy animal. I ain't eating anything that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own faeces.' - ‘How about a dog – a dog eats its own faeces.' - ‘I don't eat dogs either.' - ‘But do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?' - ‘I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy, but they're definitely dirty. But a dog's got personality – personality goes a long way.' - ‘So by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal.' - ‘We'd have to be talking about one charming mother f***in' pig.'

It is it's surrealism – with time becoming disjointed – that makes it so close to every day life (which is confounded by memories - the past living in the present). It is a film that is so surreal that it seems real and so hackneyed that it is totally unique; it is a paradoxical clarification of our confusing world.

Duel (1971 TV Movie)

Are you `Mann' enough?

[7/10 · 9 September 2001]

WARNING - CONTAINS SPOILERS

There is a single, simple theme that underpins this movie - manhood. Phil-345 touches on this in his comments, but does not take it beyond the superficial.

The word duel conjures images of two men fighting one another with some accessory that requires skill to fight with, be it pistols, swords, or in this case automobiles. Ultimately a duel always ends in death for one of the duellers…

Our protagonist, who is naturally a shy man who avoids conflict, is forced to live up to his surname (Mann) as his adversary bullies him and picks on him with his more powerful vehicle. Mann is a real victim right from the start of the film, and gradually grows in estimation (his and ours), to finally be able to stand up to his aggressor and ultimately defeat him.

Mann is established as being one of the emasculated males of our time by the following:

1 His car is puny, and he `can't help himself' driving slowly

2 The radio he is listening to is all about house-husbands not being the man of the house

3 He failed to stand up for his wife's honour when another man molested her

4 His ego-flattering ideas of his worldliness prove his downfall – he doesn't get his radiator hose fixed when he is told it is faulty because he thinks the attendant is conning him. It later breaks at a crucial point – his desperate attempt to exert his manhood was out of place, and nearly gets him killed

5 He girly way he whoops with delight when he successfully passes the truck driver

6 When he does try to do something to stand up for himself, he gets it painfully wrong (attacking the wrong man in the cafe)

7 He hurls a class cabinet at the truck which feebly bounces off (credit to Phil for pointing this one out)

8 When he is being chased, he constantly swerves all over the road, while he adversary maintains a cool calm control of his vehicle at the same speed

9 He cannot help the children's bus, getting his own car hung up in the process, and feebly trying to control the children – they poke fun at him for being such a nerd

10 He keeps backing down from the fight `the road is all yours Jock'

There is a very telling moment, when the truck is waiting for him on the road ahead. Mann gets out of his car and walks, then runs at the truck. This is an outstanding moment of bravery from him, which startles the truck driver into running away (rather like a mouse roaring at a lion). It establishes two things - that Mann has finally proven himself worthy of our respect – he is prepared to put down his weapon and fist-fight the other man. The second is that the truck driver is (like all bullies) really a weakling who is abusing the false power that his truck gives him.

After this, having gathered momentum and peaked, the film is all downhill from here (ironically the battle then proceeds on an uphill chase). Mann has proven his mental worth in the duel, and all that is left is to finish his opponent.

Other comments deal with the strengths and weaknesses of the plot, cinematography etc. but I thought it was interesting that no-one pointed this theme out.

Farewell My Concubine (1993)

The greatest film of all time?

[9/10 · 22 August 2001]

Like the French, the Chinese seem to produce nothing but incredible movies; movies that are so culturally rich and psychologically grounded that they are almost like novels. Farewell My Concubine is about the cultural revolution in China; with the relationship between two heroes and the heroine being a microcosm of this movement.

Dieyi, who plays Concubine Yu to Xiaolou's king, represents the old society of corrupt, but noble, decadence. Warped by abuse and betrayal, victimisation literally turns him in on himself, until he becomes homosexual in so many ways. The grim passivity, of which his homosexuality is only one facet, is bitter and snide on the one hand, but stoical and brave on the other. The suffering and ugliness that lies behind his elegant pristine act (as Concubine Yu) is like the hardship, toil and exploitation that was behind the old society (with its palaces and silk clothes created by the tired hands of the proletariat). Through combining both the ugliness and the beauty of the old society in one character, the film is able to justify it: the proletariat and the nobility are one, their suffering is one, and their triumph is one. This is forcefully iterated in the scene where communist pupils attack Dieyi's aesthetic preference for noble ambience on stage (beautiful backdrops portraying aristocratic gardens rather than proletariat metal pylons). We feel the injustice and hypocrisy of their ideology, for Dieyi is tougher than any of them; he has suffered and toiled harder than the most exploited slave in the history of mankind.

Where Xiaolou represents practical masculine reality, Dieyi represents art: he talks with a distanced air of finality and confuses the opera with everyday life. This is, for the most part, rooted in psychological realism. When Dieyi is beaten he refuses to cry because his artistic temperament detaches him from rationality and gives him a tragic-heroic identity which sustains him: to cry would be death for him. Xiaolou, on the other hand, chooses to grapple with reality and play up to the masters who beat him; he takes the lashings with comic defiance and exaggerated pleas for relief. The film only goes wrong when it becomes Dieyi's mouthpiece, condemning Xiaolou for betraying him. In the world of the film, it is no more fair to say that Dieyi is braver than Xiaolou than to say that Xiaolou survives where Dieyi perishes: within their own vital spheres, both prevail.

Xiaolou's wife, is a beautiful subtle portrayal of womanhood. From her beginnings as a whore (physically and emotionally) she grows in stature until she chrysalises into the film's most worthy character. The compassion and fortitude with which she tolerates her husband's operatic partnership with Dieyi, even when it is responsible for the loss of her unborn child, is heroic in a womanly sense (a kind of heroism rarely acknowledged in literature or film). Her pity for Dieyi outweighs her jealousy: she nurses him out of his heroin addiction as if she were his mother (his mother was, significantly, a prostitute from the same whorehouse as she). However, at the end, when the two of them have both been denounced by Xiaolou, the characterisation slips into sentimentality: instead of bearing Xiaolou's callousness with contempt (as she does when he hits her earlier) she gives up on life.

Like many of the greatest works of art, this film is flawed and it is the ending which reveals and embodies this flaw: sentimentality.

Billy Elliot (2000)

Jamie Bell is a Gene Kelly of the 21st century

[9/10 · 19 August 2001]

The hero's dream of becoming a ballet dancer is born in the unlikely milieu of County Durham's working class mining community. This impoverished population of broken dreams and domestic violence is the bleak alternative to, and thereby stimulant for, Billy Elliot's dream.

The action takes place, significantly, during a time of rebellion: the pit miners are on strike because of pit closures. This violent and brooding subplot is thematically linked to Billy Elliot's struggle against tyrannical sanctions: just as his brother and father resist police enforcement, so he stands up to them. His rebellion is no less masculine: he defies his father's prohibition and braves physical abuse when caught dancing, proving that Ballet is not just for ‘poufs' but is a dignified profession for those of physical dedication, discipline and courage.

The director symbolically conveys the opposition between Billy's values and his father's through an opposition between darkness and light (the white of the swan is to become a symbol of Billy's ambition). The misery of parental failures is explored during a dark interior scene; yet the next scene, where Billy and his girlfriend cast away sorrows in an amorous play scene, is light and the feathers of the cushion as it splits fill the room with downy whiteness (a visual prelude to the swan's narrative introduction).

Overlooking the river Wear, Billy's teacher (Julie Walters at her gut-wrenching best) tells him the story of Swan Lake as Tchaikovsky's theme is playing in the background: a beautiful woman is turned into a swan by a wicked magician, but has a few hours every night to be her true self. This is an important moment for Billy, for he takes on the swan's story as a correlative for his own plight: like the swan he has a limitted time set aside in his day (the dance classes) in which to express his true self.

Downy snow is falling like swan feathers in the Christmas scene and Billy is building a snow man with his friend; this is an image of hope and creativity(which is later urinated on by a drunken miner); rebuilding dreams as well as building the white snow man (Billy's friend is convincing him to try his luck at Ballet again). It is as if the universality of the snow and all it stands for gives Billy the confidence to re-assert his ambition, for when his father catches him this time, he is not so passive. He gives a muscular virile, even acrobatic, dance performance for his father in an awe-inspiring gesture of defiance.

Jamie Bell is a Gene Kelly of the 21st century: his moves are a mixture of tap, ballet, gymnastics and, at times, football manoeuvres! The scenes of tap dancing virtuosity across the lavatories, steps and railings of the brick back yards and along the streets and shed rooftops of Durham are as breathtaking as one of Gene Kelly's jubilant performances. Yet, with Billy Elliot, the aggression and awkwardness of the moves are emotionally justified: he is angry and is dancing from frustrated energy reserves. There is nothing staged about his dancing, or indeed any part of this film, for it is enthused throughout by the thwarted passion and stifled, if ultimately triumphant, genius of the hero's dream.

Elizabeth (1998)

the forces of light and darkness

[19 August 2001]

Elizabeth deals with a turning point in English history; just after the reformation. It was a time when Religion had much more power – the power to make or break a monarch. The film opens with an horrific burning of three Protestant infidels, as the Catholic authorities punish them for heresy (under the orders of the queen, consequently known as ‘bloody Mary' because of the large number of executions she ordered) . This very much sets the tone of the film - predominantly orange (a colour of fire, violence, sunlight and also our lead's hair).

The dualism of light and dark is explored to great effect in this film. The foreign Catholicism, with its plotting violence and corruption is surrounded by darkness. Queen Mary and her councillors wear black and blue, and skulk in the shadows of her grim bedchamber. The duke of Norfolk (the leader of the Catholic resistance in England) is a swarthy, Mediterranean looking devil who's mistress likewise is a sensual dark haired type.

Other types of corruption are surrounded by dark images. Elizabeth's beau, sir Robert, who shamefully betrays her is of the same Italian looking stock as Norfolk. As he gets tempted into corruption (by the Spanish ambassador) he is no longer depicted in the sunlit country scenes of his innocence, but revealed cowering in shadows among the castle vaults.

Against all of these images of perversion and evil we have the fair haired, blue eyed Anglo Saxon angel and queen, Elizabeth. She begins as a slightly timid woman who fidgets under the coronation crown and finds the idea of ultimate power over so many men's hearts titillating. However, as she grows into her role she becomes more and more like her father before her, the notorious Henry V111. This adds to the sense of Elizabeth as the rightful heir to the throne and the previous queen Mary as a sickly impostor. Not only does she physically resemble him (with her pale skin and fair hair) but she has his stubborn forcefulness and superiority of command that can silence a crowd of disputants and cause them to humbly make way for her.

With the help of the evil (and dark haired) Walsingham her rule becomes one that balances the poetic dignity of monarchical love with Machiavellian politics. She conquers an assembly of bishops by convincing them to sign and act of uniformity (creating a church of England) partly through her own force of persuasive rhetoric and partly through a move, orchestrated by Walsingham, that has eight of the most staunchly catholic bishops locked in a vestry during the vote. As she takes control of the reigns of government she becomes a heroic symbol of good governance, stoicism and self sacrifice. This culminates in the final scene in which she turns herself into a symbol of the virgin Mary to give the people a substitute for their lost idol. Elizabeth cuts off her golden hair replacing it with a wig, paints her skin white and glides into her courtroom with her hands folded in a statuesque pose. A new reign has begun.

Eyes Wide Shut (1999)

A shame it ruined their marriage

[19 August 2001]

This film is like an opera, with its the classical soundtrack complementing the staged, almost balletic, ballroom party and séance scenes. It's use of suspense is not cheap, but very deliberate in its restraint: the audience does not hold its breath in anticipation of an unlikely murder but in fear lest Nicole Kidman's soliloquy should reveal a past infidelity. This is the suspense of real life, and it is powerful. Infidelity is one of the greatest fear lovers can entertain, and, as such, Kubrick does not need to elaborately assault ones pulses with anything more sensational to get an intense response from his audience.

Eyes Wide Shut is a narrative hyperbole of a couple having a fight; a modern day rendering of an ancient blame story. Eve welcomes evil into her bosom and into humanity when she decides to test Adam's love (if you love me, she suggests, you will eat the apple). Adam, the focus of the story, is innocent and unprotected. As with the Garden of Eden story, it is the woman in Kubrick's tale, with all her testing ways, that initiates sin: from the very start, the audience is made suspicious of the woman who is portrayed as the instigator of the bad feeling as she indelicately goes to the toilet while her husband is sorting out his tie.

The couple (unemployed Kidman and Dr Cruise) leave for a party where they do their social duty, separate and go mingle. Kidman goes off in her state of pent up frustration, inebriates herself on champagne and tolerates the addresses of a slimy Bulgarian who slow dances with her and whispers insinuations in her ears (like the snake whispering in Eve's ear). Yet the fact that he is too old to be any real attraction suggests that her flirtations are designed for a different end: to aggravate her husband.

She warily spots him receiving the attentions of two beautiful models while she is slow dancing, and her motives for making him jealous are thus subtly linked to her own insecurities and fears. Yet neither of them commit adultery and they go home in one piece. He kisses her, while she, with psychotic wide-eyed frustration, allows him: she is in a dangerous mood. Up until the fight the main tension - the carrot held before our noses - is the apprehension that adultery will be committed and that this couple will be destroyed. It is truly terrifying for we actually care about them and value their relationship: they seem to have a lot to loose.

In the fight scenario she gives the age old complaint that the only reason why he does not cheat on her is because he doesn't want to hurt her, not because he doesn't desire other women. He expresses the age old failure of the uninitiated male to take into account the effect other men's desire must inevitably have on her if she really is a creature that simply responds to male desire. If she simply responds to his desire, doesn't she instinctively respond to other men's desire too? These are her testing insinuations. What follows is perhaps one of the most excruciatingly tense scenes in cinematic history as we wait with baited breath as Nicole, ever so slowly (the film is tantalisingly slow), relates what seems geared towards becoming an awful confession of adultery. In fact it does not conclude like this but turns out to be a mere fantasy of adultery.

Nevertheless the damage has been done to our nerves as it has been done to the traumatised Cruise's (the film is experienced from his perspective). The fear of adultery lessens, partly because she has just committed it in her mind and partly because we loose faith in the director's control as we presume that adultery is now inevitably necessary if any more emotion is to be extracted from us. From then on one does not watch with such nerve edge tension but from a numbed blunted distance. At this point in the film the adultery carrot has been prematurely devoured. The fear of adultery has already been consummated. Indeed, another carrot is added to the plot (the fear for the characters very lives) but the old adultery carrot is still the main, if shredded, one.

After the epiphany of Kidman's fantasy, Cruise leaves. What follows that night is a bizarre chain of events for the doctor. These include gate crashing a psycho orgy séance wherein an elaborate, crime and detective plot enters the film. This plot cleverly calls into question the nature of illusion and reality: is it all the offspring of the doctor's disturbed imagination or, if real, is it pathetic (some sad aging perverts playing make believe) or sinister (some serious criminals). Kubrick, to an extent, leaves the choice up to you. I think there is more evidence for it all being a big farce: one of the main themes of the film is disguise or make believe (it is all a dream-nightmare for Cruise who's eyes are ‘wide shut'). Cruise and the leak get out of the whole thing alive and the crucial corpse has simply died of a drugs overdose. Nevertheless the connection between fantasy/dreaming and real life is subtly merged. Playing with sex/violence (and they are synonymous when on screen) is both silly charade and serious perversion.

The sex/violence is, as in A Clockwork Orange, ritualised. This makes it not quite as violent as sex usually is on screen. The control of the act makes it dispassionate and, paradoxically, the lack of love in it makes it less violent – it is a performance. Love is the violently passionate force in this film as in life. It is Cruise and Kidman's love that is the dynamic force behind all of the terror and desire (whether true or false). There is no romantic s***e: the ‘adultery' scenes make one sick (as they would if they had happened to you). There is no sense that betrayal is a turn on: it is a horrible nightmare world of deadened sensations, an un-sensual wallowing in unhappiness and self disgust.

The film is better than most. But despite its intelligence and originality it does suffer from the old ‘ironic' clichés. The much overused undermining of Christmas was not particularly enlightening: yes Christmas is a family time of holiness, joy and peace and no it is not particularly shocking to discover that bad things happen at this time of year too and no it is not particularly disillusioning to discover a wholesome Christian couple worrying about adultery while keeping up a face of Christmas cheer for their child. Get over it Hollywood, really. It's not that clever.

The film verges on the pornographic – with sex scenes that are graphic, though easy to watch.

Being John Malkovich (1999)

strange but true

[9/10 · 19 August 2001]

Having misunderstood the idea of the film (I thought it was to be a semi-autobiographical documentary), I was pleasantly surprised to follow the superb yarn which is ‘Being John Malkovich'.

Its blend of irreverent yet subtle humour (that is reminiscent of Monty Python) draws you into the film immediately. Early on, as the puppeteer Craig Schwartz (John Cusack) is punched for his bizarrely delicate puppetry of a horny monk, we are introduced to the central irony of the film (to be passionate in any way is to be ridiculous) while also being made aware of a more serious image (the tragic isolation of the artist). The film tells its jokes – which all tend to ridicule ardent emotion in some way or another - with a straight face. John Malkovich is flattered and touched that one of his fans loved his portrayal of ‘retard' Lenny (‘Of Mice and Men', 1992); yet the fan's passionate appreciation is belied by his insensitivity (his callous use of the term ‘retard').

There follows a strong storyline punctuated with ugly – yet fascinating - humour: Schwartz (possessing Malkovich's body as if it were one of his puppets) and Maxine discuss making love on Malkovich's table before eating an omelette off it – `Nooo!' shouts Malkovich desperately as he momentarily regains control (the horror of the vulgar proposal giving him strength to break out through Schwarz) . Later we also watch in amazement as a chubby John Malkovich / Schwartz dances like a puppet for the entertainment of Maxine: hideous yet riveting.

Maxine (Catherine Keener), the ultimate callous bitch, is a superb character, acted well. We are given hints as to her insanity (such as the sex and omelette suggestion), but for the best part, she is simply an uncaring, heartless manipulator. She is vain to the point of obscenity – `to have two people staring at you with complete lust through the same pair of eyes…it's quite a rush'. She toys with Schwartz and his wife, pitching them against each other in a love triangle of which she has complete control. In a film that ridicules emotion, she is the only character to come off without looking absurd.

The ability to control others is the main theme of the film. Maxine does so by making others desire her, and Schwartz is obsessed with getting inside the skin of others (as a puppeteer). This links the audience with the actors: we too are watching events unfold through the eyes of others. The film explores the way art can break down the barriers between self and other; how, for example, when watching a film you can empathise with a character – become them momentarily – but how, at the same time, they are becoming you (after watching ‘Betty Blue' how many women have felt psychotic?) It raises questions about selfhood: are we just one self, or are there many people ‘inside' our minds, making us do things, or say things (friend and family for example, influencing the way we think)?

Schwartz is repressed: he can only experience things when he puts himself in the role of someone else and his ultimate punishment is complete repression (being trapped in a child's mind, unable to ever express himself through his ‘vessel'). We get the impression that he is basically an good man, driven insane by his obsession with Maxine and what she represents (complete freedom from the pains and inhibitions of emotion). He claims `I don't want to be a monster' and he is, indeed, a lousy bad guy. He waits with a gun for his wife to come home, hiding under the table. Under a table in his own house! Then, he bursts out on her, falls over himself in his rush to grab her, by which time the element of surprise is lost, but it was not even necessary since she is completely unprepared to be assaulted by her own husband. The dance of his puppet ( a puppet which looks like himself ) is the manifestation of his failure as a man. `The Dance of Despair and Disillusionment' he calls it and it is an allegory of his despair at not being loved by Maxine (whom he loves, rather pathetically, because she is incapable of loving him back), and his disillusionment with the world that doesn't appreciate his art.

Cusack and Keener are amply backed up by Cameron Diaz, playing the innocent and vulnerable wife of Schwartz, who ultimately becomes Maxine's lover. It is a convincing performance by Diaz, which shows off her acting talent in a way that no other film has. Although she is unattractive - unrecognisable - for the whole film, she is very easy to watch.

Despite the absurdity of the plot premise (being, the existence of a tunnel which leads you into the mind of John Malkovich), the package we are presented with is so consistently well done, that it's easy to suspend one's disbelief. Elements of the basic cinematography such as the subtle, almost natural lighting (unlike a normal cinema film, particularly apparent in the Schwartz apartment) are easy on the eyes and brain. Throughout the film, you feels like you've been here before. Whether it is people moving like zombies from some black and white 50's film (as they navigate the 7 and a half-th floor with their arms flopping forward), or Malkovich singing Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich a la `Fabulous Baker Boys' (1989), we are on familiar screen territory. The Monty Python influence is more clearly seen on the DVD, with its quack anatomical diagrams.

‘Being John Malkovich' is the most unique film I have ever seen. 8 / 10

John Malkovich's opens the door for Charlie Sheen: `Ma-Sheen!' `M-Alcatraz!'

Jurassic Park (1993)

In depth analysis

[7/10 · 30 July 2001]

Based on a rather slow moving book by Michael Crichton (Sci-Fi author and screenwriter of ER), The movie Jurassic Park is an excellent adaptation that provides staple entertainment. The movie has flaws – some of the typical cliché's of Sci-Fi movies, but is presented so well, that we can forgive it and enjoy a good old-fashioned Dino romp.

The central theme of the book – Chaos theory – underpins the plot, but it fails to come across effectively in the film. While chaos theory finds order and pattern in apparent disorder, the film bastardises this into the philosophy that `life cannot be contained', as embodied by the dinosaurs. They break through the boundaries of time through being reincarnated, and then proceed to defy the control imposed upon them by the park owners. This theme is at times subtle (such as when the lawyer trips on some uneven rocks), and at times garishly unsubtle, such as some of the debates that take place. If it were not for Jeff Goldblum's superbly awkward acting of mathematician Ian Malcolm as he explains, it would be cringeable, and yet he pulls it off – we can forgive him. Again, however we are made aware that the screen adaptor did not understand chaos theory – he has his `Chaotician' (a mathematician specialising in chaos theory) telling us that chaos theory is all about unpredictability and chaos (and implies a celebration of such concepts). WRONG! Chaos theory is the opposite – it says that there are patterns in chaos, even if they are too complex for us to understand. Mathematicians are the worlds best at managing order. In the book we are educated about chaos theory, fractals and such matters which apparently are too deep for the big screen. Dr.Malcolm's little potted theme `life breaks free' about how living things cannot be controlled is even proved wrong – we watch a dumb placid cow being hoisted to its doom, still chewing the cud like the controllable beast that it is. Shame on you cow, for your poor acting skills – didn't anyone tell you to wriggle about a bit?

The characters are rather hit and miss, a flaw present in the original book, which is not character focussed – rather pop-science and monsters based. None are particularly likeable or memorable, and even Richard Attenborough struggles to maintain sincerity in his acting. His character, Hammond (the orchestrator of the park) is a supreme control freak, and he is good at it. He succeeds in manipulating our two protagonists into visiting the island by waving his fat cheque book: we loose all respect for them at this point. We are slowly shown how paper thin Hammond's control is, first by the jerky helicopter landing, then by how easily the scientists escape his guided tour – indoors, and later outdoors when they leave their vehicles in the middle of the next tour. His statement of `No expense spared' is revealed to be a complete lie as it is his underpaying one of his employees that undoes the park. Left at being said once, this would be a nice irony, however, the line becomes laboured after a while, and after the n-th time it is said, our upper lips curl impatiently.

Dr Grant (Sam Neill) is a simple run-of-the-mill luddite who is a fossil himself – unwilling to co-operate with technology (he cannot even do up his seatbelt). While the character is unsubtle, Sam Neill does look rather like a dinosaur, and the zooming in close ups are in keeping with the films shots of the dinos. Apart from that, he is rather dull, and is only partly saved by the growth of his affection to the children (a cheap way of making us like him, that did not fool me).

Despite such flaws, there is a solid scientific basis for the film, with nice explanations that are plausible with no need for deeper exploration. In the light of the cloning in recent years, the JP concept is even more acceptable.

It is not enough to call this just another special effects movie, as if that in itself belittles it. The excellent documentaries on the DVD provide insight into the enormous effort that went into making the film look so effortlessly good, employing Industrial Light & Magic (George Lucas' SFX company), THX (Lucas' digital sound company) and top animators, the results are truly breathtaking, especially in the cinema (other links with Star Wars include a soundtrack by John Williams, and James Earl Jones narrating the documentary).

Computer imaging and animation are art forms, and like most art forms, attempt to recreate life; to understand it. Whereas quality fiction authors look at character and plot in an attempt to mimic human society, sci-fi authors use their imagination to further existing ideas and create new worlds, focusing on a more immediate and less subtle approach such as brightly coloured lasers and massive aliens. What they skimp in character and plot (and they always do), they make up for in creativity in other areas. It is very rare to excel in more than one area of creativity – it takes a genius such as Leonardo Da Vinci to be a superb painter AND a genius scientist. JP will never be Shakespeare, but then Shakespeare never had dinosaurs walking about munching on each other, which is also pretty fun too. 7/10

Being John Malkovich (1999)

In depth analysis (contains spoilers)

[9/10 · 29 July 2001]

Having misunderstood the idea of the film (I thought it was to be a semi-autobiographical documentary), I was pleasantly surprised to follow the superb yarn which is ‘Being John Malkovich'.

Its blend of irreverent yet subtle humour (that is reminiscent of Monty Python) draws you into the film immediately. Early on, as the puppeteer Craig Schwartz (John Cusack) is punched for his bizarrely delicate puppetry of a horny monk, we are introduced to the central irony of the film (to be passionate in any way is to be ridiculous) while also being made aware of a more serious image (the tragic isolation of the artist). The film tells its jokes – which all tend to ridicule ardent emotion in some way or another - with a straight face. John Malkovich is flattered and touched that one of his fans loved his portrayal of ‘retard' Lenny (‘Of Mice and Men', 1992); yet the fan's passionate appreciation is belied by his insensitivity (his callous use of the term ‘retard').

There follows a strong storyline punctuated with ugly – yet fascinating - humour: Schwartz (possessing Malkovich's body as if it were one of his puppets) and Maxine discuss making love on Malkovich's table before eating an omelette off it – `Nooo!' shouts Malkovich desperately as he momentarily regains control (the horror of the vulgar proposal giving him strength to break out through Schwarz) . Later we also watch in amazement as a chubby John Malkovich / Schwartz dances like a puppet for the entertainment of Maxine: hideous yet riveting.

Maxine (Catherine Keener), the ultimate callous bitch, is a superb character, acted well. We are given hints as to her insanity (such as the sex and omelette suggestion), but for the best part, she is simply an uncaring, heartless manipulator. She is vain to the point of obscenity – `to have two people staring at you with complete lust through the same pair of eyes…it's quite a rush'. She toys with Schwartz and his wife, pitching them against each other in a love triangle of which she has complete control. In a film that ridicules emotion, she is the only character to come off without looking absurd – when she finally accepts her true love Lotty, it is a sombre and sincere moment, signifying that we are approaching the end of the tale.

The ability to control others is the main theme of the film. Maxine does so by making others desire her, and Schwartz is obsessed with getting inside the skin of others (as a puppeteer). This links the audience with the actors: we too are watching events unfold through the eyes of others. The film explores the way art can break down the barriers between self and other; how, for example, when watching a film you can empathise with a character – become them momentarily – but how, at the same time, they are becoming you (after watching `Betty Blue' (1986) how many women have felt psychotic?) It raises questions about selfhood: are we just one self, or are there many people ‘inside' our minds, making us do things, or say things (friend and family for example, influencing the way we think)?

Schwartz is repressed: he can only experience things when he puts himself in the role of someone else and his ultimate punishment is complete repression (being trapped in a child's mind, unable to ever express himself through his ‘vessel'). We get the impression that he is basically an good man, driven insane by his obsession with Maxine and what she represents (complete freedom from the pains and inhibitions of emotion). He claims `I don't want to be a monster' and he is, indeed, a lousy bad guy. He waits with a gun for his wife to come home, hiding under the table. Under a table in his own house! Then, he bursts out on her, falls over himself in his rush to grab her, by which time the element of surprise is lost, but it was not even necessary since she is completely unprepared to be assaulted by her own husband. The dance of his puppet ( a puppet which looks like himself ) is the manifestation of his failure as a man. `The Dance of Despair and Disillusionment' he calls it and it is an allegory of his despair at not being loved by Maxine (whom he loves, rather pathetically, because she is incapable of loving him back), and his disillusionment with the world that doesn't appreciate his art.

Cusack and Keener are amply backed up by Cameron Diaz, playing the innocent and vulnerable wife of Schwartz, who ultimately becomes Maxine's lover. It is a convincing performance by Diaz, which shows off her acting talent in a way that no other film has. Although she is unattractive - unrecognisable - for the whole film, she is very easy to watch.

Despite the absurdity of the plot premise (being, the existence of a tunnel which leads you into the mind of John Malkovich), the package we are presented with is so consistently well done, that it's easy to suspend one's disbelief. Elements of the basic cinematography such as the subtle, almost natural lighting (unlike a normal cinema film, particularly apparent in the Schwartz apartment) are easy on the eyes and brain. Throughout the film, you feel like you've been here before. Whether it is people moving like zombie aliens from some black and white 50's Sci-Fi film (as they navigate the 7 and a half-th floor with their arms flopping forward), or Malkovich singing Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich a la `Fabulous Baker Boys' (1989), we are on familiar screen territory. The Monty Python influence is more clearly seen on the DVD, with its quack anatomical diagrams.

‘Being John Malkovich' is a truly unique film. 10 / 10

John Malkovich's opens the door for Charlie Sheen: `Ma-Sheen!' `M-Alcatraz!'

Bless the Child (2000)

Holes

[6/10 · 23 July 2001]

I enjoyed Bless The Child, and the good performance of Kim Basinger, but when all was said and done, I could not help dwelling on the films shortcomings, fallacies and holes.

1 Length. At 1hr 38mins, it is a good 35 minutes shorter than the average film nowadays, and this, while making it a shorter (and therefore more palatable...???logic???) for the punters, the film was unable to do justice to the themes and characters it created.

2 The common fallacy among films that deal with themes of world domination and conquest. Why America, and more specifically, why New York? Why was the child born in America, and why was the bad guy looking in New York for it? Surely if (as the casting implies) the child is the product of the stereotypical inbred mutant hicks (complete with red hair and feckles a la "Carrie", 1976...also "The Gift", 2000) of Southern US, then why New York and not Smallsville Texas? These kind of issues are completely ignored, and indeed MUST be in a film this short.

3 Bad guy. It is either an amazing co-incidence that he found and married the mother, or there was some force that brought her to him. Does he marry all drugged out homeless people? Or does he think the best place to look for mothers of children born on the special date is in rehab centres? Again, undealt with. Does he have supernatural powers or not? How come he can cast a spell to make a guy want to commit suicide, and yet can be simply killed with a few lead pellets? Earlier in the movie he manages to magic the bullets out of Kim's gun - why couldn't he do it with the FBI guy? Surely a supernatural guy deserves a supernatural death.

4 - What of the nuns? How do they know that Kim is on her way with the child? We never see her tell them she is on her way. Also the obligatory FBI agent - when he is told that "they have got Cody", he seems to know that Cody has been rescued and her recapture is news to him, yet he is never told in the first place. When the nuns pray, are we to assume that because there are more of them, God is more likely to hear them, and give a quantitative response? If they hadn't prayed, would God have just sat back and watched as his new messiah got diced? If not, then why have the nun-praying scene when there are so many holes undealt with?

5 - What of this mysterious Christian anti-occult cult led by Ian Holm? Why don't they have superpowers like the occult guys? All they do is get a young guy to drive a car for Kim, and then he dies before the getaway. Why can't they become angels for a second, like the demon granny does? That would have been cool. This sub-plot came accross as just the lets-explain-some-of-the-rules part of the film, which should have come in much earlier. Then again, they don't stick to their own rules, so I guess it doesnt really matter.

It is my guess that the film was an adaptation of a book (these often make too many assumptions) and that there was some psycho reel cutter in the editing room who had "shorter is better, shorter is better" going round in his head. The way I felt about the film was this: nice dress rehearsal - when are you going to make the film?

6/10 - hordes of unused potential

Jurassic Park III (2001)

Such a shame

[5/10 · 21 July 2001]

Just more of the same, with improvements only in the CGI department. For me this fits into the shallow blockbuster group, where it could have been so much more. How about a change of atmosphere for JP IV guys? Make it longer, moodier, and get some real suspense, rather than just: OH the ladder gave way all of a sudden. OH a monster appears out of nowhere. (yawns) 5/10

Mission: Impossible II (2000)

A unique work of art

[9/10 · 18 July 2001]

Mission Impossible 2 was not appreciated by the critics because it was not understood by them. As the culmination of the action epic - where the symmetry, usually found in poetry, is embodied by the violence - most modern cinema-goers were faced with something wholly new. The Western intelligentsia, still hung up on the 1960's false division of clever female creativity from brute male violence, could not appreciate the profundity and happy sanity which John Woo's action engenders.

The film opens with a panoramic view of the Moab dessert in Utah, before slowly focusing in on the small pinprick of activity which turns out to be Ethan Hunt (Cruise). As he struggles with the hot sandy surface of the perilous cliff face, one of the film's main themes is introduced: man's struggle to overcome fire and earth. Fire and earth being, since Biblical times, symbols of desire, pain and, ultimately, procreation. Yet the theme is not gendered: sometimes it is male, sometimes female. The violence of the Spanish dancers, dressed in red with their viciously clicking heels and aggressively sharp – though elegant – movements, celebrate feminine strength and sexuality. As Naya executes her robbery, the clacking of her heels on the stairs and her sudden pose against the wall mimics the actions of the Spanish dance, thus her union with Tom Cruise on the cliff face, as their two cars, pinned together, pirouette towards dusty death, unifies the creative energy of the feminine Spanish dance with that of masculine danger. They become lovers.

Hunt is obliged by his ‘master' to give her up – to pimp her – and thereby entrap the villain. At this point, the theme of fire and earth mutates as the pain, rather than the desire of its fecundity is explored. This is visually conveyed by the horse image which begins to dominate – quantitatively and as well as qualitatively – over the earth image. Naya is described by the villain, Ambrose, as a possible ‘Trojan horse' – referring to the danger lurking behind her desirability – and the next scene is of horse-hooves churning up the race-track: a sinister mutation of the rumbling castanets and clacking heels of the flirtatious Spanish dance scene. Naya becomes a pawn as the film delves deeper into violence, and eroticism becomes secondary or is subsumed into the beauty of explosive male confrontation. Naya becomes less important while the arch enemy, Ambrose, becomes more so. There is nothing salacious about this substitution of a female for a male combatant on the part of Hunt: a Freudian interpretation, while being a valid exercise in risky thinking, adds nothing to our understanding. Instead of the tender mating ritual of the car chase, we have the bitter sparring ritual of the motorcycle chase: the two are similar in that they involve danger and heightened passions.

The full-frontal motorcycle confrontation is the culmination of the horse image: it is a modern day joust, where the horses have become machines. The animal of the horse is civilized or contained within the sphere of technology, just as the film – with all its technological innovation – masters and is able to express through it's artistry otherwise uncontrollable inexpressible forces. Like the Spanish dance and the car chase with Naya, Hunt's action scenes have a primal, yet also cosmic, elegance. When he is kicking his gun from the sand with a sharp tap-dancing manoeuvre, pirouetting on the wheel of a motorcycle, or spinning away from gun-fire amidst exploding glass and red flames, the paradoxical creativity of violence is suggested. Explosions occur and the camera pans out to afford a view of their blast radius, dwelling upon – and thereby suggesting the beauty of – these scenes of chemical destruction. John Woo, through these explosive images, reminiscent of the origin of the universe (the big bang) is thus able to suggest one of the central paradoxes of creation: how life and creativity began in violence.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)

The paradoxical ideology of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

[10/10 · 12 June 2001]

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is, like the final piece of advice which Michelle Yeoh gives to Jen, true to itself. Its aesthetic principles are the same as its practice. There is no desire without restraint, and repression only heightens passion we are told; this is lived out in the film, and experienced within the audience as it is brought to tears, in the final scene between the hitherto restrained lovers Chow Yun Fat and Michelle Yeoh. After years of privation, self-control and stifled desire, these two finally embrace. Preceded as it is by such restraint, it is a moment of ultimate cathartic release: passion breaking through dignified respect. Yet it is also an expression of complete powerlessness: the love is thwarted and can never lead to anything. The paradoxical nature of this (finding love only in death, finding release only in repression) proves the humanity and feeling of the film's Zen philosophy of order, of balancing opposites, upon the reader's pulses.

The film looks at opposing forces: youth and venerability (or innocence and experience) ‘classicism and romanticism', ‘form and content', ‘spirituality and materialism', ‘sense and sensibility' (one of Ang Lee's previous films). In such a context, Jen represents the romantic materialism of youth (and the aristocracy) while Michelle Yeoh stands for the classical spirituality of experience (and working class stoical morality). The latter preaches the philosophy of form and discipline to the former, but Jen will not accept the wisdom of the older woman's sensibility: she has been corrupted by a wicked master. Jade Fox, the film's villain, has already taught her to dream of fame and freedom, independence and self-rule (romantic principles). As a result she is suspicious of Michelle Yeoh and Chow Yun Fat's philosophy of restraint and submission: when he tells her, during a sparing fight, that the only way to find herself is to loose herself, she scorns him for talking like a monk.

Jen is the hero of the film: she is the one that survives to enjoy the truly happy ending because she has been bold enough to love. However, it is made very clear that her happiness has been bought at a price: her romantic adventurous fun perniciously brings Michelle Yeoh and Chow Yun Fat into martial confrontation, necessitating the subjugation of their love. They harm none, but rather protect Jen from her own romanticism and this proves the superior strength and humanity of their classical restraint and formal discipline. The benevolence which classical restraint is capable of administering is thus emphatically pointed out, especially in penultimate scene where, although her life has been ruined by Jen's impetuousness and the latter deserves to die for her folly, Michelle Yeoh stops the raised sword before it touches the girl's neck as a sign and a real implementation of the mercy of restraint (as opposed to the cruelty of passion).

On the other hand, the film is not a straightforward advocation of the ascetic self-privation of monastic life: Chow Yun Fat's last words express his regret at having wasted his life in pursuit of spiritual excellence rather than love. The materialism of Jen is part of her youth, her zest for life; while the spirituality of Chow Yun Fat is deathly and pale in comparison. Jen chases the desert bandit in pursuit of her hair comb (green – the colour of life) and is equally obsessive about securing the green destiny sword. She relishes the beauty of these two fertility symbols (the green comb and sword), risking her own death, after Chow Yun Fat has thrown it over the waterfall, to retrieve the sword. Although her passionate romanticism makes her the film's hidden dragon , a secret poison that destroys, like her wicked master Jade Fox, it also makes her the film's nectar, its life force.

Up 'n' Under (1998)

GARBAGE!

[4/10 · 7 June 2001]

The only reason to see this film is to appreciate the ~20 seconds of Samantha Janus naked in the shower. Fast forward to this bit, and then return the tape. No seriously. You have been warned. 4/10 (some for her bottom, plus a few for the occasional laughs).