The Knack …and How to Get It (1965)

Posted on September 10, 2009 by badblokebob

2009 #34
Richard Lester | 85 mins | download | 15

I’ve never actually seen a Richard Lester film before, and so spectacularly failed to put two-and-two together about who the director was and what else he’d done before I watched this. If I had, recent (at the time of viewing) reviews of the BFI’s release of Lester’s later The Bed Sitting Room (such as John Hodson’s or Clydefro Jones’) might’ve prepared me for what was to come.

As it was, all I had to go on was the DVD art (as used by iTunes — this was another 99p Film of the Week), the bright and breezy title, and that it stars Frank Spencer. From that you’d be forgiven (I hope) for thinking The Knack was a colourful Swinging Sixties sex-com romp. Upon watching it, however, it’s immediately clear it’s nothing of the sort: it begins with a dream/nightmare sequence, complete with horror-esque music, before settling into a style and rhythm more reminiscent of Breathless than Confessions of a Window Cleaner.

At least, it does for a bit. In fact, it does a lot of things for a bit: Carry On-level double entendres, intense thriller-like scenes, slapstick sequences, an occasional New Wave-esque light jazz score… If it were an American schoolchild The Knack would surely be diagnosed with ADD, flitting around from one style to another with no immediately obvious rhyme nor reason, except perhaps a desire to try out interesting things and see where they lead. This will undoubtedly put some people off — on another day, I might be included among them — but instead I found it quite intriguing.

Stuck in the middle of what could have been a slew of directorial flourishes, the cast are allowed to surprise with some layered performances. Michael Crawford more or less does an early version of Frank Spencer (in fairness, that’s perfect for the role), leaving him overshadowed by Ray Brooks as lothario Tolen and Donal Donnelly as the slightly kooky Tom. Both subvert their initial impressions: Donnelly’s oddness hides a perceptive intelligence, while Brooks’ suave lover hides a subtly unnerving, menacing, dominating sexual predator. Some of the time, anyway.

There’s no doubt that I’m severely under-qualified to pass any kind of serious judgement on The Knack (some would say any film, but there you go). I’ve not even mentioned Rita Tushingham (apparently something of a ’60s icon), or Ray McBride (who or what is he, and what is his relevance?), or that it won the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 1965 (I do know what that is at least). A proper, informed judgement is therefore best left to those with a greater familiarity with Lester’s films (or at least his early work, before he went on to the likes of The Four Musketeers and Superman III). But to those equally as uninitiated as I, The Knack can be recommended as an unusual but surprising piece of work, full of things to pique one’s interest.

Dark Floors (2008)

Posted on September 6, 2009 by badblokebob

2009 #26
Pete Riski | 82 mins | DVD | 15 / R

You may remember Lordi, the surprise winners of the 2006 Eurovision Song Contest. If that doesn’t help, they were the Finnish rockers all dressed up in monster suits. Here in the UK we gave them our highest number of points.

You’d be easily forgiven if you had forgotten them, but clearly someone hasn’t as they not only made this film, someone thought they were big enough to use in its promotion — it’s subtitled “The Lordi Movie” on posters, DVD covers and what have you. Maybe they’re still well-known in Europe. Or Finland. Yet despite the country of origin, Dark Floors is in English, with a predominantly British cast, and it appears to be set in America. On top of which, it has a surprising level of glossiness (albeit glossy gloominess) that, if you didn’t know better, would suggest a moderately budgeted US horror flick. Apart from the monster costumes.

In fact, expectations are gratifyingly knocked down at every turn. Riski’s direction and the cinematography are very slick, though some of the action/horror sequences lack much tension — the film effectively builds tension for these sequences, but rarely, if ever, delivers genuine scares on the back of it. While this isn’t always a bad thing, one begins to learn the tension being built isn’t likely to lead anywhere, robbing it of much impact. Effects, music and sound design also lend the project a higher budget feel than initial impressions suggest. As mentioned, Lordi’s costumes are the weakest bit, neutered either by familiarity — there’s no chance of genuine shock value if you recognise them from brightly-lit TV performances — or quite simply not having been designed for this kind of scrutiny or story. Riski does his best, hiding them with lighting, angles and special effects, but it’s not perfect.

Monsters aside, performances are pretty good. No one is outstanding but equally there’s nothing glaringly awful, always a plus for B-movie-level horror. At times the characters seem to accept the bizarre events that are occurring with too little reaction, though in fairness this is partly the fault of the script. What the latter occasionally lacks in believability (within a fantasy/horror context, obviously) it makes up for in efficiency. Admittedly this also means the whole cast are stereotypes, but it’s the world they find themselves in that’s of more interest.

Indeed, Dark Floors features more intriguing mysteries than it can keep a handle on, merrily setting them in motion but ultimately failing to pay many off. It’s packed with interesting imagery and good ideas, many of which aren’t hammered home, but equally many are never explained — key among these being… well, The Whole Thing. The final scenes seem to suggest there is some meaning, but it never comes close to a clear revelation. Having read around, it’s clear that it can be interpreted multiple ways (one of my favourites references an old Finnish children’s song), and so perhaps the makers are after a Cube vibe. Despite some surface similarities to that film’s awful first sequel, the overall effect thankfully sways closer to the original.

Some have called Dark Floors boring, but I think this is again a case of misaligned expectations — I found it never less than well-made and thought-provoking. There are undoubtedly weak spots, yet you’ll find weaker in plenty of major movies. That doesn’t excuse the flaws, but it shouldn’t be written off as a meritless B-movie because of them. One can’t help but think the project would have been better received if it hadn’t been conceived by and starred a slightly camp Finnish rock band who are never seen out of their monster costumes. It is, I feel, one of many cases where if you changed the credits to name certain other directors it might be beloved and endlessly debated by a certain sector of film fans rather than dismissed as “a glam rock band trying to be deep”.

It may even provide greater rewards on repeat viewings, especially if one wants to decipher the ending, because of its circular storytelling. Some elements of this are clear immediately (when Ben shoots up the stairwell, for example), others half-clear (it treats the audience with an above-average degree of intelligence in this respect), while other bits may only make sense (if they do, that is) with another viewing and/or some interpretation. Tobias and Sarah spend a lot of time repeating things or saying things out of context, for one — might these find a greater meaning second time through?

In a similar vein, I can’t help but wonder if in trying to be quite clever Dark Floors ultimately alienates the core horror audience who might pick it up; the people who’ll miss their straightforward scares and gratuitous gore and nudity. By so obviously billing it as “The Lordi Movie” and slapping on quite a lurid cover, the marketers have done nothing to suggest the film might actually benefit from the application of some brain power. True, this same problem can be alleged of the film itself — it’s only a horror film after all, and with somewhat ludicrous monster costumes at that — but I can’t help but wonder what might lurk within if people chose to look past these unfortunate style choices.

Naturally the counter argument goes that there’s not actually anything there, it’s just pretending there is instead of having a proper plot. I’m not certain which to believe.

Ultimately, an appreciation of Dark Floors comes down to its ending. The whole film is stylishly made — surprisingly so in fact — but there are no concrete explanations for what happened during it. If you like ambiguous endings there may be enjoyment in that very fact — and there are certainly plenty of theories floating around the ‘net for the interested to explore — but if you require your entertainment neatly wrapped up, I’m prepared to guarantee you’ll hate it. If, on another hand, you don’t care about the plot of your horror film as long as it’s scary… well, that all depends on your horror threshold, but if you’re a hardened horror fanatic I don’t imagine there are many chills to be had here.

I’m not entirely sure what to make of Dark Floors in the end, but err on the side of generosity because it’s well-made and has left me thinking — something I certainly never expected.

Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic [TV edit] (2005)

Posted on September 3, 2009 by badblokebob

2009 #45
Liam Lynch | 50 mins | TV | 15

Stand-up concert films are an awkward business (as are rock concert films), raising questions that are oft pondered on this blog about what constitutes a “film”. After all, if this were just shown on TV or released direct to DVD rather than released in cinemas, no one would be considering it a feature. Indeed, Channel 4’s TV showing cut the 70-minute (PAL) version down to just 50, much as they do for the TV showing of any other direct-to-DVD stand-up gig. But the fact remains that this was released in cinemas (albeit not many) as a feature film. Though if it’s worthy of review under this blog’s remit, and direct-to-DVD movies are worthy of review too, surely direct-to-DVD comedy gigs should be? It’s enough to make your head hurt — something Jesus is Magic might also do, if it hasn’t sent you to sleep.

All comedy is an acquired taste, of course, but what Silverman offers here must take some acquiring. I mostly like what I’ve seen of her work in the past — I’ll admit to having I’m F***ing Matt Damon circling round in my head for weeks after first hearing it — but the lack of laughs here is enough to put me off bothering with her in future. Most of her material seems to be an excuse to say extremely rude or controversial things, and in fact often relies on these things being so rude as to provoke laughter just for that. The audience seem happy to go along, but there’s nothing inherently funny about a rude sentence — it needs a point, be it satire or surrealism (which she tries, but fails at) or something else. I have no problem with edgy or ‘offensive’ comedy, but this isn’t it.

Occasionally Silverman hits on something worthwhile amongst all the dross. Some of her comments on 9/11, the Holocaust and a handful of other edgy (and, indeed, ‘edgy’) areas raised a smile, maybe even a chuckle, proof (were it needed) that difficult topics can be covered as comedy. Even then, however, it’s only one or two gags among a raft of blabbing on those topics. At other times there are lines that desperately want to be funny, and if she’d managed to build up a head of comedic steam they’d garner a laugh as they passed, but in isolation they’re just not enough.

On a related note, the whole thing is bizarrely slow-paced. I don’t know if that’s an American thing or if British comedians are exceptional in their rapid-fire delivery — or just “relatively rapid-fire delivery”, because even the slowest joketeller you’d encounter on something like Live at the Apollo can spit them out twice as fast as Silverman — but she seems to take forever to get anywhere. Anywhere at all, that is, never mind to an actual joke. Few, if any, British comedians would survive at this pace.

Directorially, it’s a simple concert film, perhaps an over-edited one. Lynch splashes out during a couple of musical numbers, producing the occasional background gags this way — the people Silverman passes during I Love You More, for example — though at other points he’s just as guilty of spending too long on something that’s either not funny or that becomes humourless through exhaustion, such as the black people she encounters at the end of the same song.

Based on comments in online reviews, it seems Channel 4 mostly cut documentary material for their abbreviated TV showing. Whether these insights add some weight to proceedings or just slow the film down further I don’t know, but I’m thankful I didn’t have to suffer through another 20 minutes of this. As noted at the start, this editing (just like other stand-up DVDs transferring to TV) lends credence to the idea that this isn’t really a film. Whether it is or not ultimately doesn’t matter, other than if you’ve paid to see a comedy it would be nice to hear some gags — why go to the cinema for a humour-free evening you could stay at home with Michael McIntyre’s Comedy Roadshow and actually have a laugh?

Also see Eamonn McCusker’s review at DVD Times for a similar perspective. I’d especially echo his final paragraph: “Or the everyday conversations that you can hear up and down the country, which [would] leave Silverman blushing. Compared to all that, Silverman seems safe.” It’s great to be British.

Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic featured on my list of The Five Worst Films I Saw in 2009, which can be read in full here.

A Few Good Men (1992)

Posted on August 31, 2009 by badblokebob

2009 #38
Rob Reiner | 138 mins | download | 15 / R

Sometimes you have to wonder where it all went wrong. I can only imagine how good things looked for Rob Reiner at the start of the ’90s, when he’d had an almost-interrupted near-decade-long run of acclaimed movies in the director’s chair: This is Spinal Tap, Stand By Me, The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, Misery, and finally this. ‘Finally’ being the operative word however, as it all seems to have gone down hill from there, to the extent that I actually felt the need to look him up on IMDb to check if he was still working/alive. (He’s both, having recently directed The Bucket List, a bit of a hit if I recall correctly.) Reiner is a recognisable name, and if he’d stopped making films after A Few Good Men perhaps he’d find himself bandied about on lists of Great Directors (at least in certain circles/magazines), but the fact I had to check what he’s been up to (and had forgotten how many acclaimed films he’d made in the first place) shows what a 15-year run of nothingy films can do for your reputation. Even the career of Spinal Tap themselves seems to be in better condition.

All that said, A Few Good Men isn’t really Reiner’s show. It’s not that he does a bad job — far from it — but courtroom dramas primarily depend on two things, even more so than most films: the quality of the writing and the quality of the performances. When you have scene after scene in which a handful of people battle with words alone, often in one-on-one confrontations, then those two elements are virtually all you’ve got. Of course camerawork, editing, music and the rest still have their part to play, but without the underpinning of good writing and good performances the technical attributes are merely fighting to cover for significant shortcomings. Fortunately, A Few Good Men has those underpinnings.

In this case the screenplay is by Aaron Sorkin, adapting from his own play, who would go on to create and write a great deal of The West Wing (which, incidentally, was inspired by leftover ideas from a later Sorkin/Reiner collaboration, The American President). The seeds of that show’s influential style are in evidence here, although the sheer pace and famous ‘Walk and Talk’ scenes aren’t yet part of the formula. As in The West Wing, Sorkin’s writing is both intelligent and witty, a hallmark of high-quality writing that’s able to rise above the shackles of “it’s not real drama unless it’s all grimly serious”. His characters and their personal story arcs may be straight from the stock pile — Tom Cruise is the hot-shot young lawyer who’s actually trying to live up to his daddy (and comes through in the end); Demi Moore is the goody-two-shoes woman trying to make it in a man’s world (who learns to work with her colleagues); and so on — but the plotting of the central case remains undiminished, and Sorkin thankfully avoids such obvious subplots as a romance between Cruise and Moore’s initially-mismatched-but-ultimately-mutually-respectful good guys. Nonetheless, the occasional lapses into extreme, often patriotic, sentiment that would later mar the odd episode of The West Wing are also on show here, most notably at the climax, though they fail to do any serious damage.

It’s in the all-important court scenes that Sorkin’s writing really shines. Dialogue flies back and forth like bullets, full of protocol and technical jargon — like in The West Wing — that we either understand or, when we don’t, get enough of the gist to follow the key plot points — like in The West Wing. The biggie is the final confrontation between Lt. Kaffee and Col. Jessep, an interview that’s the courtroom equivalent of a high noon showdown. It’s true that Tom Cruise plays Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson plays Jack Nicholson, just as they almost always do, but it makes for a grand act-off. It’s fair to say that Nicholson comes out the victor, gifted with material that guides him from cocksure commanding officer to angry thug in just a few minutes, but it’s the bravado of Cruise’s questioning — undercut with uncertainty and genuine surprise when he pulls it off — that pushes Jessep there.

There are plenty of other good performances — typically competent work from Kevin Pollak doing the best friend thing and Kevin Bacon doing the friend-turned-rival thing, while Kiefer Sutherland’s ‘head bully’ role is memorable and Demi Moore holds her own better than the rest of her career might suggest — but this is undoubtedly a showcase for Nicholson and Cruise, and through them Sorkin’s writing. Not to mention that there are some nice directorial flourishes from Reiner. I wonder what happened to him?

~~A Few Good Men is showing on Five tonight at 10pm.~~

The X Files: I Want to Believe – Director’s Cut (2008)

Posted on August 29, 2009 by badblokebob

2009 #44
Chris Carter | 104 mins | DVD | 15

Six years after the once-phenomenal TV series meandered to an inconclusive conclusion, Mulder and Scully were back at the cinema, a decade on from their previous between-seasons big screen outing. The big threat this time was not aliens, however; nor even something more Earthly supernatural; but rather, where they would find an audience? There are now kids old enough to watch this in a BBFC-endorsed fashion who weren’t even born when the series started, and that’s not to mention the misguided attempt to pitch this as a Summer blockbuster.

And if there’s one thing I Want to Believe isn’t it’s a Summer blockbuster, which its snowbound setting arguably gives away to even the most casual observer, while its lack of action sequences and focus on spooky goings-on and character relationships — not to mention that none of these characters are requisitely young enough to head up a typical Summer Movie — should have been the clue to studio execs. And, unsurprisingly, the release strategy failed, leaving audiences either disappointed or not even turning up. As with so many perceived flops these days, it seems to me, I Want to Believe didn’t actually flop: off a $30m budget it made $68m worldwide. Though as only $21m came from the US, where the consideration of box office stats is often highly self-centred, it’s easy to see why many believe it did. Such perception, coupled with poor reviews and that problem of finding an audience, may mean there’s not a third movie, which seems a shame with 2012 on the horizon — quite nice timing for a (last-ever, I should think) instalment.

But let’s return to the issue of how this film was perceived, because I think that’s key to why it was so poorly received. The problem here is that it’s an X Files movie; not because there’s anything wrong with another film for that series, and not because it’s a bad version of The X Files, but because that title carries certain expectations — not only from fans but, with greater relevance to any widespread success, from the general public. Witness the IMDb thread entitled “Where the F were the aliens”, for example. Were this just an entirely standalone supernatural-tinged thriller — and consequently released in a sensible non-Summer slot — it probably would’ve gone down a bit better.

As it actually stands, I Want to Believe is not the kind of X Files most people were expecting — i.e. Something To Do With Aliens, and it’s no spoiler to say that there’s not a single one to be seen — forgetting that the series was never just about extraterrestrials. The idea that I Want to Believe was a bit rubbish and thoroughly disappointing is consequently as much (if not more) the fault of those viewers and reviewers who expected a different kind of film and didn’t get it. That said, it’s a shame that I Want to Believe isn’t wholly successful as the kind of film it’s trying to be either: on the surface, a standalone low-key supernatural thriller — though it fails to explore or explain its fantastical and scientific ideas as fully as one would like, particularly during its lacklustre (anti-)climax — but one that also tackles issues of moving on, obsession and belief, and how they can impact on a relationship — though with all the weight you’d expect in the belated sequel to a sci-fi TV spin-off.

Mainly, however, it’s about belief. The examples of this are too numerous to mention, but a clear one is the subplot involving Scully’s fight to treat a terminally ill boy. The thread bears little relation to the main supernatural plot, which was another point of confusion for many viewers, but if you consider the film as a commentary on and examination of the various forms and merits of belief it begins to slot in a lot better. Perhaps this is another case of a filmmaker attempting something beyond what audiences were expecting to invest in terms of intelligence, although if one accepts it’s there and a significant part of the film it probably begins to pale as a relatively light and underdone exercise. Still, it’s hard to deny that belief is the film’s central theme, which pleasantly turns the title from a generic catchphrase from the series, as it initially appeared, to a none-more-appropriate moniker.

Perhaps distracted by his thematic intents, writer-director Carter rushes some plot points, though he may also be limited by budget constraints and the need to make a distinctly R-flavoured movie hit PG-13. While the Director’s Cut adds three-and-a-half minutes of material, which Duchovny asserts is mainly gore that was cut to avoid an R certificate in cinemas (full details of which can be found here), there’s still nothing that looks as if it would’ve been out of place on conservative US network television, and obviously no effort has been made to give the main plot some breathing space.

The same goes for the guest cast, most of whom are thoroughly underused. Billy Connelly makes a good show of it, but Amanda Peet’s FBI agent has much unfulfilled potential. Yet at other points Carter lets things spool out comfortably — too comfortably, some might argue. One of these places is the relationship scenes between the two leads. The amount of attention lavished on this might lend credence to a theory that the film is as much about a pair of ostensibly retired paranormal investigators as it is this particular case, and through that again a consideration of obsession and belief.

The large amount of time spent on Mulder and Scully’s relationship fortunately doesn’t turn the film into an effort solely for the benefit of ‘shippers’. There’s definite space here for a portrait of two people in a relationship who have tried to move on from their old life but just can’t, and at times I Want to Believe does achieve such lofty aims. Little nuggets of information — such as the fact they’re even in a relationship, or that they once had a child together — drop in almost from nowhere in a way that undoubtedly sounds just like dialogue to a knowledgeable fan, but to a more casual viewer works as a slow uncovering of these two characters. Unfortunately such quality is fitful, especially as the movie goes on, and while the nine-seasons-and-one-movie of backstory initially just add depth if you know about them, it’s some time before the sudden and underwhelming climax that it feels they’re dictating events a little too much. What was shaping up to be a workably standalone depiction of two characters almost becomes just a status update on Mulder and Scully.

And here lies the rub: at times, the Second X Files Movie gets too caught up in being just that. There’s nothing wrong with that per se, but it could do with remembering it’s a Movie and not just another X File — especially if it wants to find any new (or even lapsed) viewers. When Assistant Director Skinner turns up it’s the final nail in the coffin for any shot at independence. As a fan, it’s impossible to begrudge a brief but heroic last-minute appearance from Mulder and Scully’s long-time ally, but as an objective viewer, he’s just some bloke who turns up with no introduction just in time to play a major role in the climax. It’s a misstep that, along with an accumulation of others, seriously damages the film.

But does an X Files movie need to be independent? Should nine seasons (and one movie) of backstory be ignored? Well, yes and no. There’s nothing wrong with making a “where are they now?” fan-pleasing reunion, but that would belong on TV with the bulk of the thing being commemorated. In the cinema, six years distant and billed as a standalone tale (note that it’s not even The X Files 2: I Want to Believe, never mind The X Files 204: I Want to Believe), it ought to stand on its own two feet and work entirely as a self-contained piece of drama. That it fails in this is perhaps the most disappointing aspect of all for me: it makes it infinitely harder to defend this as a supernatural thriller that deserves to be judged entirely on its own terms, rather than with some established knowledge of what The X Files ‘is’, when the makers are relying on those self-same established notions to tell their story.

Never mind finding an allusive audience, this is the film’s real battle: when Carter gets too caught up in making The Second X Files Movie, shifting what’s working well as both The X Files and A Movie into straight-up An X Files Movie territory. It’s this failure to be independent — not to the point of ignoring the series’ backstory, I should clarify, but to a point where this film can be wholly appreciated without ever seeing The X Files — that ultimately holds I Want to Believe back from becoming a great horror/thriller/drama movie in its own right. It’s frustrating because so often Carter comes tantalisingly close to fulfilling such ambitions, and if he had I’d have no qualms about defending this movie as an underrated (though, it is), misunderstood (though, it is) and independent supernatural-flavoured drama. Sadly, however, I think I just want to believe it is.

The X Files: I Want to Believe premieres on Sky Movies Premiere tonight at 9:45pm, then at various times throughout the week. It’s probably the theatrical cut, but who can say?

Flags of Our Fathers (2006)

Posted on August 23, 2009 by badblokebob

2009 #39
Clint Eastwood | 126 mins | DVD | 15 / R

It’s been two years since I reviewed the second in Clint Eastwood’s 2006 double bill of World War II films; thanks to the machinations of my DVD rental site, it’s taken this long to see the first. In a somewhat innovative move, the pair examine both sides of the battle for Iwo Jima: Letters from Iwo Jima from the (losing) Japanese perspective, while Flags of Our Fathers shows the (victorious, obviously) American view. I found Letters to be a fair effort, if undeserving of some of the praise and nominations it garnered, but the consensus seems to have it that this first half isn’t as good.

Perhaps that’s because Flags is a different kind of war film. While it seems to have been promoted as the story of the battle for Iwo Jima, it’s more about the experience of three men, both on the island and upon their return to America — hailed as heroes and paraded around the country trying to raise money for the war effort, purely because they happened to be in a photograph raising a flag. While there are still plenty of battle sequences and the occasional bit of “who will survive?” suspense — not to mention an examination of such issues as honour, duty, responsibility and so forth — Eastwood is clearly aiming for something different here. Indeed, while those themes may be standard war movie fare, by placing them in slightly different contexts Eastwood finds new (or at least uncommon) perspectives on them. Perhaps this explains why Letters came off better: by comparison it’s a much more typical war movie, therefore more what was expected.

Many of Flags’ weak spots also arise from this approach however. It adopts a time-jumping structure, flitting between the battle itself and what happened after. It’s debatable how well that works: at times it’s fine, at others it needlessly complicates matters. The final stretch also gets a bit meta/hyper/intertextual, following the author of the book on which the film is based as he conducts research for the book… then rams it home when the three lead actors also appear as his brothers. (To be fair, the latter is in a single shot where their faces are almost hidden.) In the end, Flags offers neither of the usual clear-cut war movie endings (“we won!” or “we lost nobly!”), closing with no easy answers or conclusions to the issues it raises. This at least sticks to its realism, but won’t be to all tastes (with reservations, I liked it).

One side effect of such a different approach is that Eastwood’s two Iwo Jima films make good companion pieces. In no serious way do they present Part One and Part Two of a story, but instead two vastly different perspectives on the same events. The points of crossover between the two are neatly used, occurring naturally rather than forcing “you’ll understand this later”-style mysteries upon the viewer, but mainly they explore the way two very different cultures reacted to the same battle.

They do directly share something however, and that’s a debt to Saving Private Ryan in their depiction of combat. A beach-storming sequence naturally invites direct comparisons, with Flags unquestionably coming off worse due to a lack of focus. It’s still an effective sequence and it’s not a clone of Ryan, but the comparison is hard to avoid and Ryan’s opening is famous for a reason.

Despite the verisimilitude the Ryan-esque visual style now has, Eastwood nonetheless shies away from some of the reality. It seems he can’t bear to explain or show what happened to Iggy, for example, though in fairness the viewer should be glad he didn’t. (If you want, some of the details can be found on Wikipedia, but be warned that his fate was truly distressing.) Knowing the truth, one can only imagine the trauma and guilt felt by ‘Doc’ Bradley in the wake of the incident.

On a lesser level, one also imagines it must be difficult as a filmmaker deciding whether to include such details or not — on one hand, I’m glad we weren’t confronted with them on screen (certainly, to show a body would have been too much), but, while the details are horrific, knowing them adds an extra layer of emotion that is absent when kept a mystery. An externally-gained awareness of the reality of Iwo Jima adds a weight that is arguably missing from the film, but which improved it for me.

Flags of Our Fathers is an unusual war movie, probably not what many were expecting when told Eastwood was doing a War Film about the battle of Iwo Jima. But by being different it has a lot to say about the experience of war — both on an individual level and in a broader sense — that is rarely (if ever) expressed on film in quite this way.

My thoughts on the second half of this pair can be read here.

Do You Wanna Date James Cameron’s Avatar?

Posted on August 22, 2009 by badblokebob

It’s always fun to mush news stories together for potentially comedic effect.*

So when I heard, on the same day, of the expected success of the trailer for James Cameron’s Avatar (or, as I’ve taken to calling it, Phantom Menace 2: This Time Everyone’s Jar Jar) and the surprising success of The Guild’s music video for (Do You Wanna Date My) Avatar… well, I couldn’t help seeing what would happen were the two to collide…

* I’ll leave it to you to decide if this example is successful.

The Lady from Shanghai (1947)

Posted on August 20, 2009 by badblokebob

2009 #37
Orson Welles | 84 mins | TV | PG

The Lady from Shanghai is an Orson Welles film… which means his original 155-minute cut was forcibly cut down by over an hour, the studio insisted he include more beauty shots of Rita Hayworth, as well as a song for her to sing, and the temp score he provided to the composer was ignored in favour of something Welles hated. Yet for all that — not to mention Welles’ distractingly atrocious Irish accent — it’s still a highly enjoyable film.

The plot is thoroughly noirish and offers up its fair share of twists along the way, while the performances are able if largely not particularly memorable. The exception to this is Glenn Anders, giving a gloriously unhinged performance as Grisby, drawling his vowels with high-pitched lunacy. Though Welles was heavily criticised for cutting and dying Hayworth’s hair — to the extent that some blamed it for the film’s box office failure — it hardly matters (I thought she looked better anyway), and the enforced beauty shots actually work thematically toward the conclusion.

Even more attractive are the skills Welles brings directorially, on display throughout. Every key sequence provides something genuinely worth looking at while still relating the intricate plot, though the cruise offers many of the best bits — the hot, sweaty foreign climes are conveyed brilliantly, aided by sumptuous location photography, and these sunny scenes contrast nicely with the noir plot. Mention must also be made of the the famous finale in the Hall of Mirrors, a precisely shot sequence that provides a fitting close. Elsewhere, Welles’ sense of humour is pleasingly present, lending the trial scenes in particular a distinctive style that brings some ever-welcome variety.

Brisk (at under an hour-and-a-half) but engagingly complex, and rarely less than beautifully shot, The Lady from Shanghai may be a compromised version of Welles’ intentions, but his undeniable ability (at directing, not accents) means it remains a compelling film noir.

The Lady from Shanghai is showing on BBC Four at 10pm on Saturday 22nd August as part of a Film Noir Weekend. See this post at From the Cheap Seats for more details.

Stand By Me (1986)

Posted on August 17, 2009 by badblokebob

2009 #29
Rob Reiner | 89 mins | download | 15 / R

Stand By Me is a film an awful lot of people love an awful lot, which it always seemed to me was down to first seeing it at the right age (more or less the age of the main characters, I think) and possibly to being part of a certain generation — would it have the same effect for kids today, when the relative innocence and freedom of the ’50s is arguably lost? As I say, “seemed”, because now I’m not sure either of these factors really matter.

Irrespective of age, generation, or being able to remember the kinds of experiences suggested by the film, Stand By Me is still an effective and affecting little film. The level of enjoyment for some may depend on how much they can stomach child actors, though as kids go they’re mostly very good. River Phoenix in particular is brilliant, highly natural while bringing a lot of depth to perhaps the most important role. Wil Wheaton also makes a good account of himself, just one year before attracting derision as Wesley Crusher in Star Trek: The Next Generation. (Phoenix, of course, went on to have a tragically short-lived career.) Kiefer Sutherland is as effective a villain as he ever would be, though that aspect of the plot is almost an aside.

An aside, because the film isn’t about the fights between the young heroes and a group of older bullies. Rather, it’s a paean for childhood, with the adult perspective and the ‘lost age’ setting of the ’50s succinctly highlighting the nostalgic spirit. To be precise, it’s not so much reflecting on “childhood” as on “growing up” — the choices that are open when young that either disappear with time or, for whatever reason, become closed off. The whole film is arguably about choice: choice of friends, choice of social class, Ace’s constant listing of choices (the subtext breaking into the text, as many a film teacher would point out), even the obvious choice whether to follow the tracks or take shortcuts (surely symbolic). Thematically, it’s the choice to be put down or stand up for yourself; the choice to stick around and wind up a nobody or work hard and get out, also underlined in the present-day bookends.

Perhaps being the right age is helpful to a love for Stand By Me, but at any stage in life it’s easy to relate to its depiction of the experiences and choices of childhood, be they now lost, taken, or never even had.

Stand By Me is on Channel 5 today, Sunday 12th October 2014, at 2pm.

July 2009

Posted on July 29, 2009 by badblokebob

100 Films has moved…

No, not the blog — just me.

Yes, it is a dastardly inaccurate title; a lacklustre — nay, pathetic — excuse for a gag; or, perhaps more accurately, a weak hook for a long-delayed update. And it was going to be called “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated”, a Mark Twain misquote that I’d just been researching, hence words like “dastardly” and “nay”.

So, one month on from my last post, and at around 58% of the way through 2009 I find the actions toward my titular aim floundering this year — never mind the last post, it’s been over a month since I actually watched a film. I have my reasons — well, excuses — but as I’m really my only taskmaster I shall keep them to myself. Unless you want to know the mundanities of moving house, my new TV, or our new ickle doggy-woggy? (You don’t.)

I’m at 38 films, then, which is 10 worse than this point last year. As regular readers with strong memories may recall, the end of last year saw a bit of a rush to reach 100 in the dying days of December (11 new films in the final six days, I believe it was), so being ten behind already doesn’t bode too well. (The fact that I’m 31 behind this point in 2007 doesn’t bear thinking about.)

I could witter on with precise how-many-films-per-day-to-catch-up statistics-like things (I know, I normally do), but instead I shall probably twitter on about it at some point (do you see what I did there? Almost as good as the title, isn’t it) and… well, maybe I’ll even actually watch some films. Perish the thought.

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Category Archives: 2009