Coming of Age: American Art 1850s to 1950s

A pleasantly surprising exhibition, especially for someone with an very glancing knowledge of American art. The Hopper (Manhattan Bridge Loop) and Pollock (Phosphorescence) don't disappoint, and there's an unusual Remington (Moonlight, Wolf) that seems a million miles away from paintings of the West: very dark, with striking specks that seem to glow in the night. I also liked the Winslow Homer Eight Bells, another dark picture, that captures a wild ocean and the sailors upon it. What was most enjoyable and made the trip to Dulwich worthwhile was the final room. I've always been under the impression that I don't like modern art and yet this room was a delight. It was mainly sculpture or to be more precise, constructions of various kinds, although the Pollock was hung there. Bets of all were the Moholy-Nagy Twisted Planes, a perspex and metal piece and my very favourite, Alexander Calder's Horizontal Spines, half artwork, half mobile. The gentle breeze made the various parts move in a thoroughly hypnotic manner and I found myself drawn back to it repeatedly. It's also the sort of piece that makes you smile, which has to be a good thing

Happy-Go-Lucky

In general I'm not a fan of Mike Leigh's work. I often find it thoroughly patronising and don't get me started on Naked, which is the closest I've ever got to walking out of a film (I didn't but only because I was in the middle of a row of friends) However, his more recent work hasn't annoyed me anywhere near as much. Happy-Go-Lucky is a much brighter film than usual - and not just because of Poppy's dress sense. She's the sort of person who sees the good in everyone, although there are hints that there's more turbulence below the surface than first appears. Driving instructor Scott is her complete opposite, all venom and bitterness. Refreshingly she doesn't convert him to her worldview. In fact she throws his life completely out of kilter. The driving lessons are priceless as an irrestible force meets an immovable object, although I have to admit to a sneeking sympathy with Scott at such moments. The urge to shout "for goodness' sake concentrate woman!" was almost overwhelming. Yet, unusually for Leigh, there are no hidden secrets lurking for the unwary. Poppy's a great teacher, has fast friends and by the end there's even the prospect of love, and if that doesn't count as a happy film, then I don't know what does.

Persepolis

The version screened was the English-dubbed one, which brought a number of distractions with it. The rather jarring mix of American and French accents wasn't helped by the Marjane character morphing from an American tot to a very European-sounding teenager. Still I suppose not having to read subtitles meant that it was much easier to concentrate on the gorgeous animation which is about as far away from Pixar as you can get. No hyper-realism here, just stark black and white in the manner of the graphic novels. It makes the flashbacks within the main flashback particularly effective and beautiful, with their nods to what we think of as traditional Islamic design. However, for a relatively short film, it felt long so there is something wrong with the pacing. The second half, with the grown up Marjane, is far less interesting than the early scenes set during the Revolution. Teenage angst falls a long way behind political mayhem in the interest stakes.

The Merchant of Venice: RSC

This was my O level play and I've seen several productions of it over the years. Some go for modern dress, others for a historical setting. One approach doesn't necessarily yield better results than the other. It's all down to the interpretation. The new production at the RSC is curiously underpowered. Shylock barely raises his voice, in passion or anger, and in dress is almost indistinguishable (smarter perhaps) from the rest of Venice. The only real flicker of genuine emotion is his distress over the loss of his wife's ring, which makes a telling contrast with Bassanio and Gratiano subsequently giving away their rings. In a similar vein the relationship between Antonio and Bassanio is muted. There's very little sense of *why* Antonio is willing to risk so much for his friend. For a change Bassanio comes across as the more engaging character rather than merely as a rather selfish chancer. This is partly because of Antonio being equally low key. You can't imagine this man behaving towards Shylock in the anti-semitic manner of which he's accused. He doesn't seem to have the passion for it. In effect the heart of the play (rather than Antonio) has been removed. So, not one of the best versions of the play that I've seen unfortunately.

The Red Balloon

A masterclass in how to make an inanimate object into a character. It's not like a balloon even has anything approximating facial features, but by the end of this film, the audience is totally enchanted by the "hero". And how is this miracle achieved? By movement (the balloon has a rather jaunty motion and bobs around endearingly) and by the interaction of the balloon and the small boy who finds it. The little game of hide and seek is one of the most sweet and lovely images I think I've ever seen - and this from someone with a strong aversion to *cute*. I started to think of the balloon as being mischievous, and there's a genuinely charming bit where it almost flirts with a passing blue balloon. Of course, having won over the spectator, the ending is all the more affecting. Who would have thought that the (deliberate) bursting of a balloon could be so upsetting? Still, the film finishes on a literal high as all the balloons in Paris come to the boy and carry him away. One of a kind.

[REC]

Zombies are the only horror film creatures that truly freak me out. I think it's the whole being-eaten-alive scenario. [REC] is creepily effective and for the second time in a month a Spanish horror film makes genuinely unsettling use of a nightvision sequence. Not being able to properly see the terrors that are suggested by the soundtrack always works better than the tortureporn approach of showing every last detail. Top marks too for being thoroughly ruthless with the characters, even poor Pablo, the man behind the camera whose face is never seen. A nice touch too with the hint of an escape route - involving a tense find-the-right-key sequence - that is immediately made an impossibility as the survivors find themselves cut off at the top of the building with no hope of reaching the basement. And the most disturbing scene? The hysterical mother cuffed to the banisters, the key that could release her with the now-infected policeman, and the zombies breaking through the barrier. You can guess the rest.

Son of Rambow

An absolute delight, blessedly free of sentimentality and cute kids. For those of a certain age, the details ring totally true. The early shot of the cinema full of smokers sets the tone (I remember watching Bambi in just such a setting) and the rest of the film follows. The mere mention of scree in the geography lesson took me right back. Best of all, the kids feel like real human beings instead of child actors playing a role. From their POV, the sixth form common room is a New Romantic disco, the French exchange students exotic and exciting creatures, and Rambo the filmic forbidden fruit. In this world, imagination knows no bounds - a rest home becomes a rambling mansion full of wonders (not least the pirate video itself), a rather pathetic scarecrow transforms into a terrifying creature, and a dog can fly (sort of). Even reality itself takes a turn for the better, at least for this summer ...

The Savages

Are there two better actors than Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman? In terms of one-off performances, possibly, but for sheer consistency, I doubt it. Watching them bicker and spark off each other is a joy, which is the last thing one would expect from a film about the alarming mental decline of a not-so-loving parent. It's grim subject matter and a topic that is horribly relevant to most people, but rather than being a depressing slog, The Savages leavens the downbeat tone with flashes of biting humour. Sometimes it's tinged with desperation, sometimes it's sarcastic and sometimes it's just bloody hilarious. I defy anyone not to laugh at the "jaw sling" scene. Underneath it all though lurks the dreadful decisions two estranged children have to make about a man who they love almost despite themselves.

My Brother is an Only Child

You never know what you're going to get with Italian films. Sometimes they are so sickly sweet that you want to vomit or at least leave the cinema pronto. Luckily there's also a handful that are more politically minded. With the writers behind The Best of Youth penning this, it was always going to be worth seeing. Not as good as the earlier film, and with a slightly dubious and schematic division of political allegiances, it nevertheless scores highly with the portrayal of acrimonious yet still loving family interaction. In those scenes it's also rather amusing too, which is a necessary counterbalance to the rest of the film.