The Artist (2011)

Posted on February 8, 2013 by badblokebob

With the important awards finally arriving (the BAFTAs this Sunday, the Oscars in a fortnight), last year’s winner is on Sky Movies Premiere from today. What better time to review it?

Beginning in 1927, you could (and some have) accuse The Artist of being a remake of Singin’ in the Rain, only swapping the milieu of the musical for that of the silent film — both equally alien to modern audiences! The story concerns a silent movie star, one of the biggest names in the business, who is ousted when sound arrives and the public want new faces. Concurrently, an ordinary girl he bumped into (literally) at a premiere rises to become one of the new era’s biggest names.

I remember hearing about The Artist when it debuted at Cannes in 2011. It garnered some acclaim and sounded interesting, especially to someone who’s interested in both silent film and modern versions thereof. But I also got the impression it was seen as a curio, no more than a film fan’s film, and so hoped it would somehow make it over here eventually and I’d one day get a chance to see it. Things turned out a little differently, of course.

Some have said The Artist is over-praised and not a patch on any of the real silent films it seeks to emulate. I take umbrage with that. While it may not be to the level of the very best the silent era has to offer, in that case you’re comparing it to the crème de la crème of some 30 years of cinema; a time of invention and innovation to boot. They churned ’em out in those days, and I’d wager The Artist is more than equal to the period’s average output.

Besides which, it isn’t a real silent film, and not just because it uses sound on one or two occasions, to very specific effect. Made 80 years after the invention of sound revolutionised cinema over night, The Artist is a tribute and homage to that great era — it’s not trying to beat them at their own game. It’s certainly not the first ‘modern silent’ either, but it’s an appropriate one to have received the most widespread attention (La Antena was a bit weird and The Call of Cthulhu a bit niche, for two other recent efforts). I think the general public still think of silent cinema as either a mustachioed villain tying a damsel to the tracks, people walking at double-fast pace, or slapstick comedy, so it can only be a good thing that The Artist gained such wide acclaim and introduced more people to a fairer understanding of the films of the time.

The film itself has much to admire, although it’s hard to put aside that its greatest impact is as a silent movie made in the 21st century. The black-and-white cinematography is frequently gorgeous, the 4:3 frame always precisely composed. LA’s Bradbury Building (now restored, but most familiar to film fans as one of the rundown locations for Blade Runner) lends its particular style to one memorable sequence: the long shots reveal staircases and floors so symmetrically squared you’d believe they were a precisely-planned specially-constructed set, and unceremonious symbolism is created with former-star George being on the way down and Peppy being on the way up.

Director Michel Hazanavicius litters the film with subtle but clear markers such as this — the man and woman statues that move further apart on the sideboard as George and his wife grow distant; a marquee advertising Lonely Star as George slopes away from an auction of all his possessions; and so on. It may not be taxing to spot such allusions — I’m sure a hardened cinéphile would bristle at the very notion such visible signs could be considered symbolism at all — but they’re still neat.

As George, Jean Dujardin exudes all the requisite charm of a silent movie idol, while later silently conveying his sliding confidence and sink into depression. Bérénice Bejo is equally charming as kind-hearted Peppy, while James Cromwell offers able support as a loyal chauffeur.

There’s no denying the real star of the film, though. Winner of the Palm Dog and a fixture of the red carpet this time last year, Uggie steals every scene he’s in. Whether he’s doing a trick (his party piece, pretending to be shot, makes a neat throughline to a tension-breaking pay-off) or just faithfully following George around, he draws your attention. I might think that was just me (we’ve been over my love of terriers before), but his near-constant presence during last year’s awards suggests otherwise. And boy can he run!

Sometimes acclaimed films suffer when divorced from awards season hype. Some people have certainly felt this way about The Artist. Personally, I think they do it a disservice. As a tribute to silent cinema, made in a flawless imitation of the style, it’s marvellous. As a romantic comedy, it’s sweet and funny with an occasional dramatic edge (more than you might expect from all the cheery trailers and clips). Much like its stars — all three of them — I found it charming.

The Artist is on Sky Movies Premiere twice daily until Thursday 14th February. The British Academy Film Awards 2013 are on BBC One at 9pm on Sunday 10th February.

The Lady Eve (1941)

Posted on February 7, 2013 by badblokebob

In the interests of completing my backlog of 2012 reviews, I’ve decided to post some ‘drabble reviews’ of the stuff I watched longest ago. In the future, when I eventually watch these again, I may well update with something longer; but if I don’t, at least there’s something here for posterity.

For those unfamiliar with the concept, Wikipedia defines a drabble as “an extremely short work of fiction of exactly one hundred words in length”. I first encountered it in a non-fiction book, so I’m going to decide Wikipedia is wrong and that it really means any complete piece of writing exactly 100 words long.

So, the first of these ‘drabble reviews’ is…

2012 #25
Preston Sturges | 90 mins | TV | 1.37:1 | USA / English | U

Screwball romantic comedy starring Barbara Stanwyck as a con woman who falls for her latest mark, ale heir Henry Fonda, until he discovers the truth and ditches her — and she vows revenge by conning him again. Packed with wit, Stanwyck shines as a slightly kooky, thoroughly daring con artist. Hers is the role with all the power, but Fonda’s gentler portrayal of her unconfident target is equally vital. It’s only let down by the ending, which rushes a conclusion in two minutes and didn’t seem to quite make sense. It doesn’t ruin the film, but it makes an unfortunate dent.

Scre4m (2011)

Posted on February 5, 2013 by badblokebob

aka Scream 4

I had heard Scre4m (Scream 4, if you prefer) was dreadful; a misguided, belated attempt to revive a once-popular franchise. Personally, I thought it was fun.

Set ten years after the trilogy-closing Scream 3, the new movie wisely kicks off in years-later-sequel mode, re-introducing us to the (surviving) old characters and setting up a selection of new ones ready to be sliced ‘n’ diced. Unlike some subsequent horror franchises, Scream was never about inventive deaths, so the focus on character and storyline (relatively, at least) makes for a welcome change of pace from gore-riddled modern US horror movies.

One of the hallmarks of the original films, as I’m sure you’ll recall, is that they featured characters who were very aware of the rules of the horror movie. It played on these mercilessly, said characters employing knowledge of decades’ worth of horror films and horror sequels in order to (try to) survive. That’s not gone in Scre4m, which sets its sights on the US horror predilections that have followed since; mainly remakes and reboots. Sadly, there’s probably more on-the-nose dialogue-y exposition-y stuff about the poor quality and predictability of remakes than actually integrating such criticism into the film itself; but then again the parallels to the original Scream are there for those who care to look.

It also leads to quite a good extended bit where some characters reel off a list of recent remakes, which rather highlights just how far it’s gone now. There’s lots of examples of this fun ‘meta’ stuff for film fans; for real-world-stuff too, including references to Courtney Cox and David Arquette’s marriage, Emma Roberts being in the shadow of Julia Roberts, and so on.

In a nod to the rise of ‘torture porn’ films, Scre4m frequently reminds us that the rules have changed. I think what it really proves is there are no rules any more. Which on the one hand is fine — filmmakers have spent decades trying to subvert our expectations and surprise us in the horror genre — but on the other means the intelligent viewer can never be surprised, because every possibility is racing through our mind. Which, again, is fine — that’s the point: like every kind of murder mystery from Agatha Christie on, half the game is guessing the killer. And if you want to get suckered in to the jump scares, or think it through so thoroughly you remain ahead of them, that’s fine too. I think that’s one of the reasons horror movies have always appealed so much to teens: they’re still naive enough, unfamiliar with the rules of film enough, to get caught out by those things; whereas an older, seasoned viewer can see them coming.

But, ultimately, all the discussion of horror movies and their rules is just window dressing: if there aren’t rules any more (which there don’t seem to be), it’s impossible for the characters to use them to survive, or for it to lend much self-reflexive weight to how the killer behaves. The only moment when it might be of use is when they predict the climax will occur at a party, and it turns out they’re having a party that very night! But then they go ahead with anyway. So much for that then.

Like so much of the film, Marco Beltrami’s score is amusingly overblown. He makes it sound like something terrifying is happening when someone sits in broad daylight typing “I don’t know what to write” on their computer. I had similar thoughts on bits of the acting, the murders, and so on — there’s an element of a wink and a nudge, of deliberately hamming it up. I think that some would see this as a lack of skill in the acting/writing/directing departments, but I think it’s a choice. Or I choose to think it’s a choice, take your pick. Arguably the resultant mix works as well as a comedy as it does a horror movie. This, I think, is part of why the Scary Movie movies are so reviled — they simply take the piss out of something that is, to one degree or another, already taking the piss.

In many respects, Scre4m is kind of old school. It fits better in the era of the original trilogy and/or earlier horror films than with the development of the genre in the intervening decade. Though as the main development has been torture porn, and it criticises that explicitly from the very first scene, perhaps that’s still OK. In fact, they’re one step ahead again, with a nod to the most most-recent development (the Paranormal Activity-led “found footage” boom), which actually plays a more central role than the torture porn stuff.

It’s fair to say that a chunk of nostalgia for the originals colours my liking of Scre4m. Perhaps it plays best to those who saw the first three at the right age, i.e. mid-to-late teens or so. I shouldn’t think it would engage a new audience all that much, especially ones versed in the gorier Saw and Final Destination franchises. But for those of us with fond memories (to one degree or another) of the first three films, it’s kind of a nice little revisit.

The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec (2010)

Posted on January 31, 2013 by badblokebob

aka Les aventures extraordinaires d’Adèle Blanc-Sec

Based on the long-running bande dessinée (aka “comics”) by Jacques Tardi, The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec is occasionally sold to English audiences with a handy quote from Empire: “Amélie meets Indiana Jones”. I’ve never seen Amélie (though, funnily enough, I ordered the Blu-ray in a sale last week), but I still think that’s a pretty fair summing up.

Adapted from two of Tardi’s tales (the first and fourth, fact-fans), Adèle Blanc-Sec is set in 1912 Paris, and concerns the titular adventuress’ quest to resurrect an Egyptian mummy who may be capable of healing her sister, while also having to deal with an escaped pterodactyl. Pretty instantly you can see this isn’t what we Brits typically think of as A French Film… that said, the often farcical tone allies itself with another preconception about the French, so that’s OK.

Indeed, this lightness — fairer to say silliness — might alienate some viewers hoping for more Indiana Jones and less Amélie. There’s a sequence in Egypt that’s very much in the Indy mould, and much of the stuff with the pterodactyl too, but it’s always underscored and surrounded with humour. Caricatures and exaggerations abound. And if that doesn’t put you off, the introduction-heavy opening minutes might, dense with introductions for disconnected characters and locations. Stick with it, it sorts itself out.

The film finds itself with a 12 certificate in the UK, and that age might be the perfect target audience. There’s dinosaurs and mummies, car chases and fireballs, derring do brushing up against irreverent humour, and even some boobies. Hurrah for the Frenchies’ casual attitude to nudity — its appearance here is in every possible way gratuitous, and yet with a snippet of plot information that means you couldn’t snip it out without creating an obvious jump. It’s only these fleeting nipples that prompt the film to be higher than a simple PG (the BBFC’s explanation is here), though there’s a mildly harsh edge to some of the action too. Should a man being guillotined be funny? Well, it is here.

Star Louise Bourgoin is/was a model, which you can believe from her looks but wouldn’t know from her performance. Her Adèle is quick-witted and funny, terse but likeable, and she’s prepared to don all sorts of daft and occasionally unflattering disguises in service of both story and laughs. An able supporting cast includes Bond villain Mathieu Amalric, unrecognisable under heavy prosthetics, who is unfortunately underused. Some reports say this was planned as a trilogy (whether the sequels are still in the works, I know not), so perhaps he was being established for that purpose.

Director Luc Besson managed to build up something of a following with a regular output of films through the ’80s and ’90s, perhaps culminating artistically with the exceptional Leon, which he followed with US-styled (but French-produced) sci-fi epic The Fifth Element and an ill-received re-telling of the story of Joan of Arc. For much of the ’00s he moved further behind the scenes, writing and producing a flurry of mainstream-flavoured Euro-produced crossover hits — film series such as District 13, Taken, Taxi, The Transporter, and more can all be attributed to him. Adèle Blanc-Sec isn’t his first time back in the director’s chair since the ’90s, but while there’s nothing wrong with its production, nothing suggests Besson in particular needed to be calling the shots either. Maybe someone more intimately familiar with his previous work would see something I didn’t, but though it’s all competently handled, there’s nothing to remind you this is a man who once helmed some truly great films.

The music is by Éric Serra, who murdered the score for GoldenEye with some electronic modern rubbish instead of the classic John Barry-inspired style David Arnold brought for Tomorrow Never Dies through Quantum of Solace (and, one hopes, he’ll bring to Bond 24, after Thomas Newman’s bland and self-copying effort on Skyfall). Serra has clearly spent the intervening 15 years learning how to copy, however, as there’s a distinct John Williams flavour to the music. I’m not objecting — this is an Indiana Jones-esque tale and Indiana Jones-esque music fits like a glove.

I suppose Adèle Blanc-Sec won’t be to everyone’s tastes. Comparisons to the Stephen Sommers Mummy have been made, but its tone is sillier still than that and not everyone approved then. That’s before we get on to its occasionally scrappy nature, including a slightly overlong third act. But that’s piffle I say, because in the right frame of mind it’s all rollicking good fun. I sincerely hope those mooted sequels happen.

The UK TV premiere of The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec is on Film4 and Film4 HD tomorrow, Friday 1st February, at 9pm.

It placed 10th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2013, which can be read in full here.

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Part II (2013)

Posted on January 25, 2013 by badblokebob

The two-part animated adaptation of Frank Miller’s comic, regularly voted among the top three stories ever told in the medium, concludes here. If you’ve not seen Part I, I recommend you start there — I imagine you could follow much of Part II without it, but why bother?

In the second half of Miller’s tale, the Joker is being released from incarceration to appear on a talk show, apparently reformed. Batman doesn’t believe a word of it, but the new police commissioner isn’t about to let Gotham’s vigilante have his own way. Meanwhile, in Washington D.C., a President concerned about the ramifications of Batman’s return has a little chat with a red-and-blue-clad chum…

Miller’s original work is most often consumed as a graphic novel these days, but it was originally published as four individual parts and is consequently quite episodic. What screenwriter Bob Goodman has done with his adaptation is manage to make it feel like a story of two halves, with each movie being largely self contained — you could stop at the end of Part I and feel you’d had an entire tale, I think. Here, elements from Miller’s fourth chapter are introduced earlier (at least, that’s how I remember it, but note I’ve not read it for years), lending Part II the sense of being a whole movie, rather than two back-to-back shorter tales.

Nonetheless, a pair of big battles form the cruxes around which the story works: Batman vs the Joker, and Batman vs Superman. I won’t spoil the outcomes for those who’ve not read the book, but both are excellently realised on screen. Action can be tricky in comics — you’re stuck with a series of still images to convey fast-paced, often intricate movement. I also generally have the impression that action sequences are not 2D animation’s forte — too many frames need to be drawn, too many different angles to make it quick and exciting enough. The Dark Knight Returns is one of the exceptions, however, and the two big sequences in Part II — as well as a couple of smaller ones — outclass anything in Part I, which was good in the first place. I’d go so far as to say the Superman fight improves on the novel’s version, at least in a visceral sense — Miller delivers Batman’s internal monologue and a certain pleasing disregard of Supes, while Oliva wisely skips any kind of voice over and delivers the entire duel blow for blow. It’s a fantastic climax.

It’s also quite dark and brutal, particularly during those action scenes. Translate this shot-for-shot to live action and I don’t imagine they’d get away with a PG-13, even from the violence-friendly MPAA. Producer Bruce Timm revealed in one interview that they were concerned they’d get an R even for the animated version. The UK Part I classification of 15 is much more in step with the content.

The story may provide some déjà vu for those only acquainted with live-action Batman, because Christopher Nolan borrowed liberally from Miller’s TDKR for his TDKR, The Dark Knight Rises. This is even less obvious than the Batman Begins / Batman: Year One issue, though, because most of what Nolan used is in Part I, and most of the story he told wasn’t remotely similar. Still, you may spot one or two correlations.

As Batman, Peter Weller’s vocals are largely fine but sometimes lack heft. His rousing speech to a massed army sounds more like a weary chat than a bellowed rallying cry, which is just poor direction… or an uncooperative star, I don’t know which. Lost and Person of Interest star Michael Emerson makes a great Joker though, understated and calm but with a loony edge. He wouldn’t be right for every tale of the Clown Prince of Crime — sometimes you need Mark Hamill’s crazed cackle — but for Miller’s older, sneakier version, he’s bang on. Elsewhere, Ariel Winter’s shining moments came in Part I, and Mark Valley is a bit of a limp Superman — this is pretty much a piss-take of the Big Blue Boy Scout, but the voice doesn’t go OTT to match. Indeed, never mind over the top, it’s barely halfway up.

But these feel like niggles, because on the whole The Dark Knight Returns, Part II delivers exactly what you want from an action-packed Batman animated movie. There were many sceptics when DC first announced they were going to tackle such a sacred Bat-story, and not all were convinced by Part I. I don’t imagine Part II will change their minds, but for those of us who did enjoy the first animated interpretation of Miller’s seminal tale, this is even better. In fact, even without its first half, I’d say it joins the ranks of my very favourite Bat-films.

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Part II is out on DVD and Blu-ray in the US from Tuesday 29th January 2013. No UK release date has been announced.

It placed 9th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2013, which can be read in full here.

Special (2006)

Posted on January 23, 2013 by badblokebob

2012 #40
Hal Haberman & Jeremy Passmore | 78 mins | DVD | 1.85:1 | USA / English | 15 / R

A lot of praise was slung Kick-Ass’ way for being the first superhero movie genuinely set in the real world, showing the actual problems someone might face if they tried to fight crime behind a mask and a cape. But it wasn’t the first film to hit such a vein, just the most high profile.

One of the forerunners was this, in which a bored man signs on to a drug trial that, it turns out, gives him special powers — levitation, running through walls, etc. Or does it?

If you’re looking for comparisons, Special is more in line with Super than Kick-Ass. It doesn’t quite have James Gunn’s crazy surreal touch, but it shares the low-budget realist aesthetic and a surprisingly recognisable cast (albeit with smaller, TV-er faces here).

One might also argue it’s not strictly a superhero movie per se, more a comedy-drama about a man with mental health problems… though it’s less bleak or inappropriate than that might sound. That doesn’t mean it’s devoid of action or special effects, but they emerge largely in the third act and mostly serve a different purpose to the norm. Or, to put it another way, this isn’t as much of a sci-fi/fantasy film as you might expect.

Those after a more genre-aware “real world superhero” movie would do better to stick with Kick-Ass or Super, but those who might embrace something a little different — especially something with an indie sensibility — would do well to take a look. Indeed, being a comic fan is certainly not a prerequisite for enjoyment here.

Room on the Broom (2012)

Posted on January 22, 2013 by badblokebob

From the makers of the successful Christmas TV shorts The Gruffalo and The Gruffalo’s Child comes another adaptation of a children’s book by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler.

This one concerns a witch, her broom, and all the creatures that want to ride on it. It’s a simple story with simple rhyme for little kids, of course, but that’s where its joy lies. Pre-schoolers are treated to far better poetry (because, ultimately, that’s what it is) than the dreary stuff us adults are meant to engage with. Along the way there’s moral lessons and whatnot too, which even if you can see coming, are freshly presented.

The animation retains the claymation-esque style employed for the previous two films, and consequently looks just as good. The creatures are all imbued with acres of character, mainly thanks to the animators — there’s an all-star voice cast, but as each has about two lines to deliver (literally, with the exception of the narrator), it’s in their actions and reactions that most of the character comes through, and consequently that most of the story is told. For what it’s worth, voice work is provided by Simon Pegg (narrating) with Gillian Anderson, Rob Brydon, Timothy Spall, Martin Clunes, Sally Hawkins and David Walliams.

Those seeking adult-aimed sophistication must look elsewhere, but for a family audience — or anyone who’s a bit of a child at heart — I think this is charming fare, more or less the equal of any short film Pixar has to offer. If these adaptations are to become a regular Christmas Day treat, you’ll hear no complaints from me.

Repo Chick (2009)

Posted on January 21, 2013 by badblokebob

2012 #35
Alex Cox | 84 mins | TV | 1.78:1 | USA / English | 15

Alex Cox’s belated non-sequel (despite the title, there are apparently no links besides some cast members) to cult favourite (and 2012 Masters of Cinema release) Repo Man. It’s also the second of his “microfeatures”: films shot for a budget below the Screen Actors Guild cut-off of $200,000. Although it was written for a budget of $7 million, by shooting his actors quickly (in ten days) on green screen, then putting in sets made from toys, Cox made the entire film for closer to $180,000. It’s not going to work for every film, but perhaps there’s some lessons big over-expensive Hollywood productions could learn…

Not everything, though, because Repo Chick is definitely an acquired taste — which may be an understatement. Most reviews on the internet seem to be negative; most people will tell you it’s awful; and I could sort of tell it was rubbish… but at the same time, I sort of loved it. Everything is heightened. This is emphasised by the incredibly mannered greenscreened-actors-on-toys visual style, but the performances and plot are pitched at the same daft level, so that it all kind of works… in a crazy cult-y kind of way. The humour is equally quite broad; satirical, but on the nose about it.

It’s been asserted that there are no likeable characters, which I don’t think is true. The titular Repo Chick, Pixxi (Jaclyn Jonet), starts out as appallingly irritating as her obvious inspirations (the Paris Hiltons of this world), but somehow she grew on me. I think it’s around the time of a montage which shows her to be an exceptionally gifted repo person — from then on, she’s the hero, and I was properly rooting for her by the end.

True, the other characters are mostly dim and unlikeable, but is that a problem? We don’t need a film full of characters we like (otherwise we’d never have villains) — do we need there to be any? Or is the problem not that we don’t like them, but that their dimwittedness makes them too-easy targets for humour? I suppose it’s easier to just hate the film than grapple with such questions.

I’m not going to assert Repo Chick is actually a misunderstood masterpiece. As I’ve said, it will only appeal to a specific audience (and not one that’s easily defined), the satire can be blunt, and it does get a bit repetitive towards the end — all the stuff on the train once the real plan has been revealed could’ve been cut back. But, overall, Cox makes his point about doing things cheaply very well, I think… though, at the end of the day, it’s only going to work by embracing the craziness of a style such as this film’s toy sets. You’re not going to get Sin City for such little money.

Repo Chick should be a mess. In many ways, it kind of is. It’s not for everyone — it’s not even for most people — or even many people, come to that — but it worked for me. I sort of loved it.

Django (1966)

Posted on January 18, 2013 by badblokebob

The ’60s were a pretty exciting time for cinema. In France, the Nouvelle Vague were tearing up the rulebook and pushing forward their own techniques; in Britain, the James Bond series was ditching kitchen sink drama in favour of reinventing the action movie, turning itself into a global phenomenon in the process; and in Italy (and Spain) they were pulling a similar trick on that most American of genres, the Western.

Say ‘Spaghetti Western’ to most people and what they’re envisioning is the work of Sergio Leone, but you and I know it stretches much further than that. Aside from his works, the original Django is arguably the best known, so successful it spawned over 50 sequels and rip-offs (only one, made 21 years later, is official). With Quentin Tarantino adopting the name for his latest cinematic outing (in UK cinemas from today), I imagine its renown has only increased.

The titular gunslinger (Franco Nero, dripping with silent tough guy masculinity) is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, walking into a near-deserted town on the US-Mexico border dragging a coffin in his wake. There he runs afoul of a local Major, who consequently descends on the town with his 40-strong army… and that’s just act one! That alone would sustain plenty of films, but Django has more in store.

Much of the film plays as an action movie. There’s a lot of atmospheric ponderousness at the start, but once things kick off they rarely let up. In just over 90 minutes the film rattles through a damsel-in-distress rescue; a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shoot-out; a 40-on-1 massacre; a raid on a fort; a barroom brawl (one of the stand-outs, that — anyone who thinks handheld ShakeyCam fights are a modern invention should take a look); a tense, silent escape; a brutal punishment (or two); a valley ambush; and a graveyard stand-off. I think that’s all, but I may have missed some. It’s practically a definition of bang for your buck, which I’m sure goes a long way to explaining its popularity.

It all culminates in a final act that’s remarkably fatalistic, almost to Shakespearean levels. Without wanting to spoil too much, nearly everything goes wrong and hardly anyone makes it out alive. The answers about Django’s past aren’t exactly cheery either. It’s all a bit doom and gloom, though ultimately not as depressing as it could be. But almost.

I don’t normally comment on the format in my reviews — especially Blu-ray, which I never feel well enough qualified to offer detailed comment on — but it’s fair to say the US Region A-locked BD from Blue Underground has questionable picture quality. Some would say it was atrocious. The film begins with a note that this transfer is from the original negative and there were some age-related faults, but if that leads you to expect the odd scratch or speck of dirt, you’d be wrong. Detail, colour, and so on are actually all very strong, but it’s like watching something on a not-quite-correctly-tuned analogue TV; like you’ve found the channel, but you’re one or two points off the optimum frequency. Or, to put it another way, it’s really snowy. As I said, I’m no expert in BD quality, but this looks like it needs a sympathetic dose of DNR. No one but fools want a waxy Predator-esque hack job, but the mess here is equally distracting. When the odd clear bit comes along, though, it looks gorgeous. There’s a UK version out on Monday, but obviously I have no idea if it’ll be any better.

Django is exactly the kind of film you’d expect Tarantino to love: violent (so violent it was denied a UK certificate until 1993), yet classically stylish, but with boundary-nudging parts, the odd vein of dark humour, and a rough-round-the-edges feel (no doubt because they started shooting without a finished story, and never had a full screenplay!) It’s not as slick as Leone’s work and, even with Tarantino shining a spotlight on it, won’t challenge the Dollars films or Once Upon a Time in the West for a place at the top table. But it is entertaining.

As noted, Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained is in UK cinemas today, while Argent Films release a UK Blu-ray of the original on Monday.

Moonfleet (1955)

Posted on January 14, 2013 by badblokebob

2012 #91
Fritz Lang | 86 mins | TV | 2.35:1 | USA / English

Moonfleet is probably what you’d call a curio. It’s a colour CinemaScope Hollywood adventure movie from a director best known for epic German silents or dark film noirs; it’s not been passed by the BBFC since its original release in the ’50s, meaning it’s never been released here on DVD or (presumably) even VHS; I believe it’s also unavailable in the US; yet despite this dearth of attention in both the country that made it and the country in which it’s set, a poll in France’s Cahiers du cinéma ranked it the 32nd “most essential film”, besting the likes of Battleship Potemkin, The Godfather, Seven Samurai and The Passion of Joan of Arc. That probably explains why it has been released on DVD in France.

It was brought to my attention by a passionately positive article in MovieMail’s catalogue (because they currently sell imported copies of the French DVD), and then I caught it in the middle of the night on Channel 4, complete with sign language accompaniment. It’s based on a children’s adventure novel by J. Meade Falkner, though going by comments from the novel’s fans it makes some considerable changes that they find none too impressive.

Rendered on screen, it starts out feeling like a Dickens adaptation — part Oliver Twist, with orphaned blonde poppet John Mohune arriving by foot in the titular village, and part Great Expectations, with an unwilling guardian in a run-down, closed-off mansion and an attempt to forcibly send the boy to a distant boarding school. Gradually it becomes more overtly exciting, with smugglers, hidden treasure, adventures down wells and crypts, fights and chases of various kinds, a dramatic shoot-out on a beach, midnight escapes, and so on.

These moments provide some of the excitement one hopes for from a swashbuckling adventure, but they take a little while to trot along and feel hard-won. It’s difficult to see what so inspired the voters in Cahiers du cinéma’s poll, but then the French have always had their own ideas about cinema. On the bright side, between the film and the comments online, I do quite fancy reading the original novel.

At the very least, Moonfleet deserves more recognition as a curious aside in the accepted narrative of Fritz Lang’s career. Plus, for fans of mid-century Hollywood adventure movies (of which I’m sure there are more than a few), I imagine it’d be right up their street.

Another aside from Lang’s Hollywood career, war film An American Guerrilla in the Philippines, is on Channel 4 today at 12:35pm.

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