Quiet Chaos

If Gomorrah represents the political strand of Italian film-making, Quiet Chaos is part of the more sentimental tendency, though thankfully not the sickly sweet variety. It begins with 2 lives saved and 1 life lost, and the emotional aftershocks are the heart of the film. Pietro worries that his daughter isn't grieving for her mother while seemingly oblivious to his own emotional deadness. A lot of the power comes from merely hinting at key facts or leaving them completely unexplained: Pietro's pre-marital affair with his eccentric sister-in-law; the emails exchanged between his wife and a children's author; Pietro's conversation with the mysterious businessman Steiner. Likewise, the real reason behind Pietro's decision to spend his days in the park outside his daughter's school is vague. He might claim it's for the little girl's sake but it's also a convenient way to avoid the office politics surrounding the merger at his workplace, as well as delaying having to deal with his own grief. An entirely different life springs up around him. There are new aquaintances centred on the park and visits from old friends and colleagues who use him as a sounding board for their thoughts and plans. In his own small way, he's become famous. The one truly false note in what is otherwise a moving portrait of love and loss is the sex scene late in the film. It might well be justified as a working out of guilt and anger but stylistically it's horribly jarring. The low key, open ending is much more fitting.

Burn After Reading.

I can't make up my mind about this one. The Coens are back in zany mode, and the plot is as convoluted as that of Lebowski but lacks that film's winning laidback charm. It's also got the cartoonish exaggeration of Raising Arizona, combined with the violence from the brothers' more serious films. This might be one of those Coen films that grows on one over time (I initially wasn't a huge fan of Lebowski but now I love it) although the absence of truly sympathetic characters may ultimately tell against it. Norville Barnes in Hudsucker may have been a self-deluding idiot but he was lovable with it, which isn't something that can be said about Burn's cast of morons. There are certainly hilarious performances such as Linda's eager plastic surgeon with his alarmingly perfect teeth and, funniest by far, J.K. Simmons' bemused CIA chief. Clooney adds an extra layer of slime to his patented Coen idiot, and the spy film cliches work nicely to complement his growing sense of paranoia. Pitt is like a hyperactive puppy as the empty-headed Chad, with only the music from his iPod filling the space between his ears. The women are even less sympathetic. Tilda Swinton is yet another ice queen, while Mrs Joel is the plastic surgery-obsessed Linda (and don't even think about the implications of her husband writing that role especially for her!) At least the women end up with what they want (sort of) which I suppose puts them well ahead of the poor schmucks surrounding them.

Love's Labour's Lost: RSC

I'll never be converted to the comedies. There are simply too many irritants built into their structure: "comic" rustics (Costard); wilful disguise and subsequent misunderstandings (the princess and her women wearing masks in retaliation at the men disguising themselves as Muscovites); a deeply distasteful cruelty displayed towards the lower orders by the aristocrats (the mean jibes throughout the Nine Worthies scene); and plots that never seem to go anywhere. Give me the dramatic tension of the histories and tragedies any day. Love's Labour's Lost sparks to life whenever David Tennant's Berowne takes centre stage. His relaxed comic timing is a delight, especially compared to the laboured machinations elsewhere. The comedy Spaniard Don Armado also proves a highpoint, forever manging English grammar and syntax. He works far better than the endlessly tedious Holofernes and his sidekick. There is also a delightfully simple set comprising a tree centre-stage with "branches" and "leaves" hanging down from the rafters. It provides both a backdrop and a handy hiding place, and doesn't distract from everything else. Alas, there are moments in the play when one wishes that it did!

Gomorrah

At last. A much-needed corrective to the cinema's glamourization of the mafia and gangsters in general. While 2 young thugs might quote from Scarface and have delusions of following Tony Montana's rise, Gomorrah instead shows the grimy, ruthless and violent reality of the Camorra. The opening sequence is a terrific piece of wrong-footing. Black turns to an eerie blue as various men step into tanning machines. It could almost be a sci-fi film. Until they are brutally shot. This is the first indication of the war brewing within the Camorra, which impinge s on a variety of characters. The deeply depressing housing blocks undergo a form of ethnic cleansing, with families forced out if they choose the "wrong" side. Not that the film focuses solely on the drug-riven underclass. Other strands follow the insidious penetration of legitimate enterprises, such as high fashion, by the Camorra, and their involvement in the shockingly cavalier disposal of toxic waste. Money rules, the fate of ordinary people is disregarded. As one would expect, the film is violent but what really registers are the quieter moments: young Toto's shocked bewilderment in the aftermath of a shooting; blood-spattered Don Ciro's terror after setting up his boss; the bulldozer disposing of the bodies of 2 hoodlums who've pissed off the local bosses once too often. If this sounds grim, it is. For most of the characters there's no escape from this world. Toto gains comradeship (under threat) but has to assist with the murder of a woman who's his friend. Pasquale the tailor escapes with his life after becoming involved with rival Chinese manufacturers but has to abandon the job he loves, becoming a truck driver. The wannabe Tony Montanas discover that life doesn't resemble art, while Don Ciro's desperate attempts to stay alive involve betrayal of his clan. Only Roberto manages to extricate himself, his horror at the young children drafted in to drive the toxic waste trucks after the truckers refuse providing the catalyst for a difficult decision. What future awaits him in Camorra-dominated Naples is uncertain. There's nothing romantic about these gangsters.

Brideshead Revisited

There's no way I can be an impartial observer of this film, growing up as I did with the enormously lengthy Granada TV adaptation (about which I actually remember very little apart from certain iconic images) I may even have read the book at some point but that clearly left zero impression. So it's all very pretty, with lots of cliched Oxford scenes, and Venice and Castle Howard looking very photogenic. The cast are equally easy on the eyes. However, that is part of the problem. It's all surface with no depth whatsoever. Every so often someone mentions religion or Catholicism just to remind us that there's more to the story than nice clothes and glorious interiors. Only Ben Whishaw's Sebastian ever really touches the emotions. Every look he directs at Charles speaks unrequited love while the guilt and manipulation he undergoes courtesy of his mother is quite heartbreaking. It's a glimpse of the destructive force of repressive religion which resides within this particular country pile.

DVD roundup September

Le corbeau - Probably the most controversial wartime French production, which managed the impressive feat of being loathed by both Right and Left *and* the Germans. The film's ambiguity gives rise to such wildly differing interpretations. Whether you view Le corbeau as an attack on French society or on collaboration with the Germans, it certainly has a cynical attitude about human nature. The supposed hero is actually rather unpleasant and is labelled as an adulterer and abortionist by the poison pen letters driving the plot. Just about everybody else reveals themselves to be totally self-serving, and the most sympathetic character commits a cold-blooded murder before calmly walking away down the street. In other words, a thoroughly fascinating and gripping film.

Seven samurai - Kurosawa's film will forever be associated with the American remake, The Magnificent Seven, even though a comparison reveals some crucial differences. Seven samurai is set in a wartorn society with a rigid class structure which creates a totally different dynamic. The farmers hate and fear both bandits and samurai, and in turn are viewed with contempt by both. In this world there can be no happy romantic union at the end because a farmer's daughter can never marry a samurai. The farmers also hunt down and kill weak and injured samurai, stealing their armour. The samurai they hire are furious about this but Toshiro Mifune perfectly summarizes the bitter relationship that exists between the two classes. Himself a farmer's son, he can never be a true samurai and his behaviour is never quite up to the standards of his companions, yet he is also brave and resourceful. It's Kurosawa's masterful pacing that makes this a classic. The lengthy running time flies by. He understands that the quiet moments, the character development, hugely increase the audience's involvement with the action scenes. Something different jumps out at each viewing. This time it was the lovely moment when the young samurai finally blurts out his total admiration for his quietly professional colleague, who responds with the slightest of smiles...

Throne of blood - Personally I think Kurosawa's Shakespeare adaptations are the finest ever made, despite differing from the source plays and using none of the original texts. Macbeth is transplanted to the chaos of 16th century Japan, and is full of images of spinning and entrapment. The witch spins out the fates of Washizu and Miki, who are frequently framed through the tangled branches in Cobweb Forest. At the end, Washizu is trapped behind wave after wave of arrows slamming into the walls around him. It's a supremely eerie film, from the storms that herald the witch's appearances, to the bloodstained wall behind Washizu and his wife as they plot murder, Miki's ghost revealed by the prowling camera, and the unnerving sight of the forest moving through the mist.

Yojimbo - Another Kurosawa film later remade as a Western. Considering all the murder and mayhem involved, Yojimbo is a very funny film, and has a wonderfully eccentric and playful score. Mifune is far more restrained than in the other 2 films, though he's still an incredibly physical actor. Sanjuro might be a man of few words but he manipulates the two opposing gangs into slaughtering each other with consummate guile. Despite his appearance he's a deeply moral and honourable man. He rescues the abducted wife of a gambler, and is suitably embarrassed by their gratitude, and spares the life of the foolish young man first encountered at the start of the film. However, it's not clear how much is left of the town by the time he's finished clearing out the criminals. A victory yes, but what's left?