I hate romcoms, with their irritatingly smug and predictable "boy meets girl and will *definitely* end up with her despite various thuddingly contrived obstacles" plots. Lazy plotting is the least of their problems. Luckily, (500) Days of Summer isn't strictly speaking a romcom. Half of it is (sort of) and half of it isn't (breaking up and its aftermath) but not necessarily in that order. Title cards mark the various days so the temporal jumping around is never confusing. Instead there's a bittersweet juxtaposition of the happy times and the sad, and a canny use of the same images for entirely different effects depending on the emotional state of Tom. Not that he wasn't warned from the very beginning. He believes he's found "the one" but Summer doesn't believe in fate, doesn't particularly want a boyfriend at all and wants to keep it casual. Tom assumes she'll end up loving him as much as he loves her - something even his little sister can see isn't going to happen.
What could have ended up unbearably quirky actually manages to be completely wonderful. There's a lovely "morning after" musical number that develops as Tom makes his way to work, which will bring a smile to the face of anyone with a soul, and which contrasts with his later post-break up misanthropic response to passing couples. Periodically there's a deft use of split screen (the credit sequence of the protagonists as children; the contrast of Tom's expectations with reality as he attends a party) and the soundtrack is a cracker, even Tom's karaoke version of Pixies' Here Comes Your Man (that's one hell of a karaoke machine)
Of course, all the clever touches mean nothing if you don't give a damn about the characters. Tom might be frustrated by Summer's attitude but as a subsequent blind date points out, she's never lied to him or cheated on him. In fact, she told him exactly where she stood at the very beginning. The film might be from Tom's POV but Summer's never demonised. You can see why Tom's besotted. Tom meanwhile is adorable while trying to win the girl and deeply sympathetic when he loses her. Joseph Gordon-Levitt works wonders, managing to be charming, funny, vulnerable and thoroughly likeable even during the depths of self-pity. After seeing his astonishing turns in Mysterious Skin, Brick and The Lookout, it's nice to see him smiling through a film. Perhaps the sweetest (in the best sense) part, however, belongs to Paul, one of Tom's friends. He's the object of some stick for dating Robin, his childhood sweetheart. After describing what his ideal woman woud be, he ends by saying that actually he prefers Robin, because she's real. Which kind of sums up the all-round loveliness of the film ...
Tuesday 25 August 2009
Monday 17 August 2009
Inglourious Basterds
The War According to Tarantino, or, Historians Beware! When a film begins with the phrase "once upon a time ... in Nazi-occupied France" you should know that any resemblance to reality is purely accidental. After swearing *never* to see another Tarantino film after the bloated, self-indulgent Kill Bill, there were enough intriguing elements to Inglourious Basterds to make me change my mind. OK, not the presence of Eli Roth (dear God, as bad as Tarantino when he acts) but that's really the only bit where gritting the teeth is required. I did worry about the 2 1/2 hour running time - plenty of opportunity for verbosity and more self-indulgence - but it actually flies past. This might be due to the episodic nature of the film, divided into chapters concentrating on different characters or plot lines. You don't have time to get annoyed with any single character or development. It also helps that Tarantino's broken away from the same old faces. Instead, there's an impressive array of multi-lingual Europeans all strutting their stuff. Even Diane Kruger turns in a good performance, and it's hard to visualize Simon Pegg in the role of Archie Hicox as now played by Michael Fassbender (upper class, suave, an obvious choice of date for a glamorous German movie star, and subtly hilarious) The scene in the basement bar is one of the highlights: talky, funny, tense and ultimately disastrous for all concerned. In fact, the best parts are scenes of people talking, with an undertow of menace and unease permeating everything (see the opening sequence) There are lots of film-buff in-jokes but they actually fit neatly with the plot, based as it is around Operation Kino, and don't feel like the gratuitous cultural riffing of some of Tarantino's other films. And towering above everything is Christoph Walz, proficient in four languages (in this film at least) and creating a monster that is nevertheless endlessly fascinating. You loathe him but whenever he's on screen the film moves to another level. Brad Pitt might be the name above the title but the real joy is the European contingent.
Monday 10 August 2009
Sin Nombre
Yet more evidence for the quality of contemporary Mexican filmmaking and another reminder, if any were needed, of the dreadful quality of most American films that clog up our screens. While not by any means particularly original, Sin Nomber nevertheless tells its story with verve and compassion. Most of the audience will guess the fate of one of the characters early on while fervently hoping that they are wrong. From the beginning it's clear that the paths of the Honduran family heading North and the Mexican gang will collide at some point. Two totally different "families" with entirely different values, and in normal circumstances only one would win. This time, however, there's a wild card in the form of Casper, a member of the gang and therefore a killer, but one with some remaining shreds of decency. When history seems to be repeating itself, he reacts in a way that irrevocably breaks all ties with his past. We suspect he won't be able to change his own fate but he can certainly influence that of the Hondurans.
If nothing else, like In This World and Ghosts, Sin Nombre illustrates the difficulties and dangers for those seeking to illegally cross borders. Some people throw food up to the Hondurans travelling on the roof of the train; others throw rocks at them and hurl abuse. They are preyed upon y criminal gangs and at any moment they could be picked up by the border patrol. Failure doesn't deter them (Sayra's father has already been deported once and, at the end, her uncle is embarking on another attempt) though death is the end of the journey for some.
If nothing else, like In This World and Ghosts, Sin Nombre illustrates the difficulties and dangers for those seeking to illegally cross borders. Some people throw food up to the Hondurans travelling on the roof of the train; others throw rocks at them and hurl abuse. They are preyed upon y criminal gangs and at any moment they could be picked up by the border patrol. Failure doesn't deter them (Sayra's father has already been deported once and, at the end, her uncle is embarking on another attempt) though death is the end of the journey for some.
Mesrine: Killer Instinct
The sense of frustration felt during the wait for the next episode of a favourite TV show is nothing compared to that felt when the "end of part 1"! caption appears after 2 hours of thoroughly gripping filmmaking. The prospect of a 3 week delay before the second part is not a happy one.
The film itself is actually more a sequence of episodes than a tightly constructed narrative but it never feels disjointed, driving forward with boundless energy and a tremendous performance from Vincent Cassell in the title role. He has one of those distinctive French faces (the individual parts might not be anything special but the overall effect is rather wonderful) which manages to be immensely expressive. He can switch from charming to threatening in the blink of an eye, and as a viewer you never quite know what he's going to do. This is perfect for capturing Mesrine's volatility. Rather than glamourize him, the film constantly reminds the audience of the violence and bordeline-psychopathic behaviour of which mesrine was capable. He also possesses a nasty racist streak and a propensity for violence against women. Possibly the most shocking scene is the one where, out of the blue, Mesrine attacks his wife. Even his criminal cohorts seem uncomfortable. The fact that the audience doesn't totally loathe this man speaks volumes for the performance.
In addition to top-quality acting all-round, there are beautifully-executed action set-pieces. These reach a giddy high towards the end when a tense and daring Canadian prison break is closely followed by an even more daring (not to say insane) attempt by Mesrine and Mercier to free the other inmates as they had promised. It's a breathlessly exciting sequence, with the camera in the midst of the shooting, but it also speaks volumes about Mesrine himself. You don't doubt for a second when he later tells his girlfriend he's going to get *her* out of jail that he means it. She knows this too and acts out of both love and self-preservation to prevent this.
The film had opened with the very end of Mesrine's story - the ambush by police in the streets of Paris - in a split-screen sequence that stays just the right side of tricksy. Logically, you would expect this to lend the remaining running time either an elegiac quality or a sense of foreboding. Oddly enough, in the first part it does neither. Instead we follow the brutal rise of Mesrine as he robs, kills and kidnaps, working for others and for himself. The film doesn't necessarily pass judgement on him, but there are enough incidents and psychological insights for the spectator to draw a few conclusions for him/herself - even though they probably conflict with Mesrine's own opinion of himself. It's going to be a long 3 weeks ...
The film itself is actually more a sequence of episodes than a tightly constructed narrative but it never feels disjointed, driving forward with boundless energy and a tremendous performance from Vincent Cassell in the title role. He has one of those distinctive French faces (the individual parts might not be anything special but the overall effect is rather wonderful) which manages to be immensely expressive. He can switch from charming to threatening in the blink of an eye, and as a viewer you never quite know what he's going to do. This is perfect for capturing Mesrine's volatility. Rather than glamourize him, the film constantly reminds the audience of the violence and bordeline-psychopathic behaviour of which mesrine was capable. He also possesses a nasty racist streak and a propensity for violence against women. Possibly the most shocking scene is the one where, out of the blue, Mesrine attacks his wife. Even his criminal cohorts seem uncomfortable. The fact that the audience doesn't totally loathe this man speaks volumes for the performance.
In addition to top-quality acting all-round, there are beautifully-executed action set-pieces. These reach a giddy high towards the end when a tense and daring Canadian prison break is closely followed by an even more daring (not to say insane) attempt by Mesrine and Mercier to free the other inmates as they had promised. It's a breathlessly exciting sequence, with the camera in the midst of the shooting, but it also speaks volumes about Mesrine himself. You don't doubt for a second when he later tells his girlfriend he's going to get *her* out of jail that he means it. She knows this too and acts out of both love and self-preservation to prevent this.
The film had opened with the very end of Mesrine's story - the ambush by police in the streets of Paris - in a split-screen sequence that stays just the right side of tricksy. Logically, you would expect this to lend the remaining running time either an elegiac quality or a sense of foreboding. Oddly enough, in the first part it does neither. Instead we follow the brutal rise of Mesrine as he robs, kills and kidnaps, working for others and for himself. The film doesn't necessarily pass judgement on him, but there are enough incidents and psychological insights for the spectator to draw a few conclusions for him/herself - even though they probably conflict with Mesrine's own opinion of himself. It's going to be a long 3 weeks ...
Thursday 6 August 2009
Coco avant Chanel
Coco avant Chanel is considerably less baffling for the general viewer than, say, La vie en rose, the Edith Piaf biopic that juggled time frames and left plot threads hanging left, right and centre. You at least know what's happening in Coco, even if, frustratingly, there's no sense of how much time is passing: at one point someone mentions the possibility of war but if World War I happens, it does so offscreen and without any impact on the characters. The film tries to emphasise Coco's independence of thought and action butthis is constantly undercut by her reliance on men and their money. She installs herself in Balsan's mansion then bristles at his condescending attitude but never quite manages to leave. Even her relations with Boy Capel, while being portrayed as real love, also involve her being dependent on his money. There are some sharp points to be made here about women's economic dependence on men, but it all gets swamped beneath the melodramatic love triangle. Such a shame.
Monday 3 August 2009
Katyn
I doubt that there will be a more gruelling, horrifying sequence in film this year (and that includes the likes of Saw and its torure porn ilk) than that which ends Katyn. In an interesting structural choice, Wajda ends the film with the massacre of Polish officers rather than include it in the logical, chronological place which would be halfway through. In fact, it's the only place for such a powerful sequence. Anywhere else and it would completely unbalance the film, whereas now the viewer leaves the cinema with one of the most traumatic events in Poland's unfortunate history seared into the brain.
The vivid ending is mirrored by an equally striking opening that perfectly encapsulates the tragedy of of Poland's situation in 1939. On a bridge, one group of refugees fleeing the Germans encounter another group fleeing in the opposite direction, from the advancing Russians. Which is the greater evil? As it turns out, either choice can lead to death and disaster. We get vignettes of life during both the occupation and the immediate post-war period (Wajda's dealt with both many times during his long career) but while the first half effectively cross-cuts between the captive officers and the families left behind, the second reverberates with the emotional toll of their deaths. On the negative side, there's occasionally some heavy-handed symbolism - in particular the reference to Antigone - and it becomes rather disjointed. However, it's the sort of film where one is prepared to overlook such lapses. What does work well in the second half is the Kafkaesque nature of Communist Poland, a place where everyone knows the truth about what happened but can never actually express that truth (dates of death can't be 1940 as that would mean the Russians were responsible) There is also effective use of German and Russian newsreel footage of the discovery of the mass graves. To our eyes, the images are genuinely shocking although each regime merely uses it as part of the propaganda war.
The knowledge of the fate of the officers hangs over all these scenes, in the first part providing a sense of foreboding and in the second an aching melancholy. Nothing though quite prepares the viewer for the dreadful final moments. Partly this is the emphasis on details (barbed wire to tie the hands, the efficient workflow required to shoot 21,000 men in the head, the impassive killers, the dawning realization of the doomed officers) and partly it's the clinical portrayal of the deaths. The repetition doesn't dull the shock but rather increases the horror. It's a suitably moving memorial to the dead, including the director's own father, and ensures that the coverup by the Russians that lasted for half a century is now rectified.
The vivid ending is mirrored by an equally striking opening that perfectly encapsulates the tragedy of of Poland's situation in 1939. On a bridge, one group of refugees fleeing the Germans encounter another group fleeing in the opposite direction, from the advancing Russians. Which is the greater evil? As it turns out, either choice can lead to death and disaster. We get vignettes of life during both the occupation and the immediate post-war period (Wajda's dealt with both many times during his long career) but while the first half effectively cross-cuts between the captive officers and the families left behind, the second reverberates with the emotional toll of their deaths. On the negative side, there's occasionally some heavy-handed symbolism - in particular the reference to Antigone - and it becomes rather disjointed. However, it's the sort of film where one is prepared to overlook such lapses. What does work well in the second half is the Kafkaesque nature of Communist Poland, a place where everyone knows the truth about what happened but can never actually express that truth (dates of death can't be 1940 as that would mean the Russians were responsible) There is also effective use of German and Russian newsreel footage of the discovery of the mass graves. To our eyes, the images are genuinely shocking although each regime merely uses it as part of the propaganda war.
The knowledge of the fate of the officers hangs over all these scenes, in the first part providing a sense of foreboding and in the second an aching melancholy. Nothing though quite prepares the viewer for the dreadful final moments. Partly this is the emphasis on details (barbed wire to tie the hands, the efficient workflow required to shoot 21,000 men in the head, the impassive killers, the dawning realization of the doomed officers) and partly it's the clinical portrayal of the deaths. The repetition doesn't dull the shock but rather increases the horror. It's a suitably moving memorial to the dead, including the director's own father, and ensures that the coverup by the Russians that lasted for half a century is now rectified.
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