Turner and the Masters

This wasn't quite what I expected, but then, I associate Turner more with his later "impressionistic" works than with the more figurative works on show here. Seeing paintings where the emphasis is on the people within them seems very odd indeed. They aren't bad but they are nowhere near as interesting as his landscape and maritime subjects, though they invariably compare favourably with the work of contemporaries. Elsewhere it's interesting to contrast say Canaletto's Venetian paintings with Turner's. The clear lines and almost photographic detail of one against the looser brushwork and brighter light of the other. The brushwork is also noticeably different when contrasting Ruisdael's seascapes with Turner's. Rembrandt though still emerges in a class of his own. The Limekiln is indeed a beautiful little painting, attempting to match the Master's use of a small pocket of light in an area of darkness but it doesn't make any advance on Rembrandt's Landscape with the Rest on the Flight in to Egypt. The final rooms are where you fully appreciate the experimentalism of Turner. The blinding light emanating from the centre of the Regulus canvas is truly breathtaking, and, my favourite in the exhibition, Snow Storm captures the overpowering sense of the elements as the steamboat is barely discernible in the maelstrom of paint surrounding it.

Fantastic Mr Fox

I don't know whether this s Roald Dahl, having never read the book, but it most definitely IS Wes Anderson. Anyone who ever wondered what an animated film directed by him would be like now has their answer. It's *exactly* as you imagined it would be. If you close your eyes, it could be another of his live action films. In fact, I enjoyed it far more than either of his previous two movies, which seemed to be getting ever more candy-coloured and whimsical but far less involving than the glorious Rushmore or The Royal Tenenbaums (and I'm still halfway convinced that the key ingredient there was Owen Wilson as co-writer) Fantastic Mr Fox ticks most of the usual Anderson boxes: dysfunctional families; awkward father/son relationships; wacky sight gags; leftfield choice of music (the Beach Boys!); and a truly alarming attention to detail. The stop motion has an endearing rough and ready feel, with slightly jerky motion and bristling fur (think the original King Kong) But unlike Nick Park's films, you never get a sense that this is England. No matter how many Heath Robinson-esque contraptions surround Wallace and Gromit, you always feel that you're in some hidden corner of Yorkshire. Fantastic Mr Fox doesn't seem to exist anywhere in particular. Some of the settings might remind you of the English countryside but what to make then of the bizarre appearance of the wolf in front of snowy mountains at the end? There's also the accents (the animals seem to all be American while the farmers are British) and the music (not at all pastoral) One set-piece is even filmed and scored in the style of a spaghetti Western. However, it is still very enjoyable though I suspect moreso for fans of Anderson than of Dahl.

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

On the scale of wildly undisciplined Terry Gilliam films, this actually ranks as being surprisingly coherent. This is even more amazing given the appalling tragedy that happened mid-shoot. We've long been schooled to expect his movies to be accompanied by a certain amount of mayhem, but it's usually more prosaic: a public, full-on row with the producers for instance. For a time it looked like Parnassus would share the fate of Don Quixote and end up abandoned. As it is, the solution works a treat, with the costume, hair and makeup of Johhny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell (as Tony in the Imaginarium) all bearing a passing resemblance to Heath Ledger as Tony in the real world - and also giving rise to a hilarious double take when Johnny Depp catches sight of his reflection. This being a Gilliam film the plotting is, shall we say, haphazard, and the performances occasionally swing very broad indeed. There are also a couple of moments that distractingly scream "Monty Python", particularly the singing policemen. But the other thing that one gets with a Gilliam film is an astonishing imagination at work. This is most obvious in the fantasy world through the mirror but also applies to the Imaginarium itself, a vibrant archaic presence in drab modern London, and the flashbacks to Parnassus' deals with Mr Nick. And yet, for all its qualities, it will always be known as Heath Ledger's last film and it's intriguing to wonder how he would have played the three Imaginarium Tonys, particularly the third, when his true colours are fully revealed.

Katalin Varga

The most striking aspect of Katalin Varga is the sound design. Natural sounds are increased to an unnatural volume, while discordant music lends an air of foreboding to this low-budget tale of revenge. The viewer is further unsettled by the oddly timeless quality of the setting. It's only the mention of mobile phones and the sight of passing cars that indicate it's a contemporary tale. Katalin drives a horse and cart across rural Transylvania after being thrown out by her husband when he discovers the truth about the paternity of his son. The boy, meanwhile, thinks they are visiting his dying grandmother but it gradually becomes clear that Katalin has other plans: namely to hunt down and kill the two men who raped her 10 years earlier. As with any good revenge tragedy, morality becomes increasingly murky. Characters pray, and talk about sin and redemption, but Katalin's first crime damns her as surely as her rapists. Matters come to a head when she finds the second man, now happily married and by all accounts a good man. The appalled expression on his face as he realizes the past has caught up with him suggests a man about to face the end of his world. Even the one truly innocent character, his wife, ends up committing an act that costs her sould. As for Katalin, there's a dreadful symmetry to her fate. Blood will have blood.

Fish Tank

There's a moment part way through Fish tank that's as swooningly erotic as anything you'll see this year. Handsome, charming Connor gives 15 year old Mia a piggy back after she cuts her foot helping him to catch a fish (by hand!) The film slows imperceptibly; the sound of Connor's breathing is amplified slightly; and Mia brings her face as close to Connor's as she dares. The sequence perfecly captures the rush of desire that Mia feels for her mother's new boyfriend. And who can blame her? Connor's the one person who offers any encouragement. The very definition of a stroppy teen, Mia seems to have no friends (hardly surprising considering how confrontational she is most of the time) and is on the verge of being sent to a special school. She rows constantly with her mother, the neighbours and just about everyone who crosses her path. Her only release in dancing in an empty flat. Connor praises her - you get the feeling that *noone* has ever done that - and even manages to win over her mouthy younger sister Tyler ("I like you. I'll kill you last" she tells him) As it turns out, the reason Connor is so good with children and at making them feel like they belong to a family is because he's a father himself. It's clear however that Mia doesn't view Connor as a father figure, but as an object of desire. The first time she sees him, in the kitchen early one morning, the camera adopts her POV as she gazes at his naked torso. Later she tests the camera her loans her by filming him getting dressed. Even as his presence seems to make her mother happy, Mia and Connor edge towards the inevitable. Miraculously, it doesn't feel like a tawdry act of exploitation but it nevertheless destroys the brief idyll and reveals Connor's secret. The contrast of his family and Mia's couldn't be more sharp. A spacious, well-kept house and garden instead of an untidy, cramped flat; a neat, well-behaved daughter instead of two neglected tearaways; and a smartly-dressed wife and loving mother instead of the slatternly Joanne. You have to wonder why he stayed so long. And yet, the film is actually compassionate. Rather than being the villain of the piece, Connor is a likeable, kind and generous man, and we never hate him for his actions. Mia, for all her impulsiveness and anger, has a good heart - we might first see her rowing with another girl and headbutting her, but we warm to her when we see her genuine concern for the travellers' elderly horse. She acts before thinking, which almost has tragic consequences, but there's hope. She pulls back from the brink and might even be making a brighter future for herself as she departs with one of the traveller boys. There's even a tentative rapprochement with her mother as the 3 members of the family dance in the flat prior to her departure.

Birdwatchers

Birdwatchers could have been one of those terribly worthy, but terribly dull, films, centring as it does on a group of Guarani-Kaiowas to reclaim their ancestral land. The setting might be Brazil but its themes resonate wherever indigenous people clash with descendents of European settlers over land rights. The opening image is a typically exotic expanse of forest but the final image tracks to reveal how it dwarfs in comparison to the neighbouring farmland. This is the crux of the matter. The Guarani now live on a reservation, have nowhere to hunt, and earn money by either posing as "wild" Indians for tourists or working on the estates that now occupy what was their land. What lifts this above the usual liberal handwringing is the verve of the filmmaking and the sly humour. Subjective camerwork signals the presence of Angue, an evil spirit that drives people to commit suicide. Meanwhile, the conflict over the Indians' occupation of a strip of land escalates, though the women have much fun in teasing the guard left by the farmer. The film is certainly on the side of the Guarani and their predicament. Moreira might protest that the land has been in his family for three generations but that seems laughable when compared to the ancient claims of the tribe. The two viewpoints are mutually contradictory and as such, the film can't offer closure. The young would-be shaman might defeat Angue, but the farmers have killed the leader of the tribe. The tentative contacts made elsewhere in the film are all in shreds and noone really wins.

Zombieland

If you want to survive a zombie apocalypse - and I'm sure you do - you could do worse than take note of young Columbus' (as in Ohio) basic rules. For the most part they are eminently practical, such as make sure your kill is indeed dead (or even more dead than before); avoid restrooms as you end up fast food; and above all, don't be a hero. They must work as Columbus, despite carting a suitcase everywhere ("travel light"), is still alive. Tallahassee (as in Florida) meanwhile is much more what one expects of a survivor. Admittedly not everyone can possess his awesome zombie-killing skills, but they are something to aspire to. A master of all kinds of automatic weaponry, he also proves adept with shears, car doors and the trusty old baseball bat. However, even this alpha male finds himself regularly deprived of both transport and weapons by the wiles of two young girls, Witchita and Little Rock. It's refreshing that for most of the film the female contingent run rings around the menfolk, whether dead or alive. Of course, it can't last and the finale is set in motion by an act of such mind-blowing stupidity, guaranteed to attract every zombie in LA (despite the amount of noise the characters make the rest of time which bizarrely never draws zombies) that you feel the girls actually deserve to get eaten for being so dense. But never fear, the men come to the rescue! Wouldn't it be nice if just for once it was the other way round ...
This though is a small gripe compared to the gleeful mayhem present elsewhere. There's one genuine shock (you actually know it's coming but it still works) but it's not a particularly scary film - though having said that, it nevertheless provoked my usual post-zombie film nightmare. It is however very, very funny, even finding time for a Deliverance joke. There's also a pricelessly surreal celebrity cameo with a cracking payoff (again, you can see it coming but it doesn't matter) and a hilarious letting-off-steam-by-trashing-a-store sequence (see what I mean about noone worrying about making a noise?) You WILL feel good about the end of the world. Oh, and rember what Columbus said: the fatties were the first ones to go in the apocalypse so work on that cardio now.

The Army of Crime

We know the fate of the Resistance fighters from the very beginning of the film. On the way to their execution, they pass oblivious French citizens enjoying a sunny day, while a voiceover recites a litany of very foreign names who "died for France". For much of the film, France seems unworthy of the sacrifice. The Germans are there, having photographs taken in front of famous landmarks, playing concerts and kicking a football around in the park but it's the French themselves who betray and hunt down the Resistance. There's a telling, though understated, contrast between French-run Drancy - where anyone who approaches is shot on sight - and the German camp where the German officer greets Melinee with both surprise and courtesy. Of course, these Germans will also shoot the foreign intellectuals held in the camp but there's a different attitude towards them. They are the enemy but they are also soldiers. The real venom is saved for the French police, who are merely collaborators of the worst kind. The dreadful irony at the heart of the film is that this particular group of Resistance fighters are foreign Ccommunists and Jews, who have already fled from persecution (the Turks, the Nazis), and end up tortured and killed by a country they think respresents freedom.
It's a sober, thoughtful film that takes it's time establishing its large cast of characters and the key locations they inhabit, such as the Elek bar or the bustling courtyard where the Raymans live. It has far more in common with Army of Shadows than with Black Book. The assassinations and explosions coexist with planning meetings and domestic scenes, while the French authorities plan their own campaign against the "terrorists" (and just ponder how much that word depends on context) The acts carried out by the group against the Germans contrast with the torture later inflicted on them by the French police, including a particularly nasty sequence showing what happens when a blowtorch is applied to flesh. The Manouchian group are derogatorily labelled "the army of crime" and portrayed as a threat to France itself, yet they are the ones trying to free the country from occupation while the majority acquiese.