The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976/1978)

Posted on June 30, 2014 by badblokebob

aka The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (Short Version)

Ever since I read the blurb for Masters of Cinema’s DVD of Maurice Pialat’s Police, I’ve been casually enticed by The Killing of a Chinese Bookie. Said blurb asserts that “Police is a genre-defying excursion rivaled only by John Cassavetes’ The Killing of a Chinese Bookie in the pantheon of cinema’s most idiosyncratic thrillers”, which is both a nice turn of phrase and an intriguing one. The thriller is very much a Genre — that is to say, it’s a label loaded with rules and expectations, and to be idiosyncratic within such a form is an interesting notion. Both “thriller” and “idiosyncratic” are pretty accurate labels for Chinese Bookie, though, even in its re-cut (by the director) ‘short version’.

The plot sees strip club owner Cosmo Vittelli (Ben Gazzara) lured in to killing the titular bookie as payment for his gambling debts to some gangsters. The title kind of gives away whether he does it or not (though an ever-doubtful Cassavetes reportedly considered having him not go through with it), but nonetheless the film doesn’t lack the genre’s requisite tension and suspense. However, it’s more of a character study. How aware is Cosmo of the mess he’s getting himself in to, and how far is he prepared to go? What drives the man? There are no easy answers, unsurprisingly, but that doesn’t make the questions unworthy of consideration.

According to the notes accompanying the BFI’s Blu-ray release, the ‘short version’ — which Cassavetes created after his original cut was “almost universally panned [and] yanked from the theatres within days” — not only makes the film shorter, but also more focused, clarifying various plot points. The style of much independent ’70s cinema — naturalistic to the point of being almost documentarian, with half-caught snatches of dialogue and sequences that seem trimmed to (almost) the relevant moments from much longer filming — still begs that you pay attention, but it seems this cut gives you more of a hand: it gets to the killing quicker (“63 vs 82 minutes”), a meeting with gangsters is “longer, more coherent and explicit”, and so on.

Perhaps the biggest change is early on: the short version implies Cosmo takes his girls out to celebrate (then gets into debt); the original cut implies he’s been invited to the gambling den so he can be set up. That’s quite a shift in emphasis, turning the lead character from a picked-on ‘mark’ in the long version to a sort-of-coincidental brought-about-his-own-downfall type in the re-edit. In his 1980 review (included in the BFI booklet), John Pym asserts that Cosmo is “clearly” a patsy, a fact obscured in the short cut by the removal of that scene where he’s invited to gamble. Is he an easily-lulled patsy, then, as the gangsters think? Or is it more as I interpreted: here’s a man who acts the fool, who pretends to be easily tricked, in order to keep people happy; but who is actually much more competent and aware of what’s going on? Look at his speech near the end about being what others want. This is a man determined to keep others happy and thinking well of him; not in a superficial way, but as some fundamental character trait. Is that how he gets lured into the killing, then — purely because they asked nicely? But then later, when he escapes and gets some kind of revenge or freedom… well, that’s not so friendly. Is he finally doing something for himself? Or was he selfish all along — not much of a leap, especially considering the world he operates in.

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie is not a neat little thriller in any respect. As Tom Charity puts it (in the BFI booklet again), “if the scenario sounds generic, the film is something else”. It reminded me of Martin Scorsese’s Mean Streets, a film I didn’t particularly like (but which did inspire Cassavetes), but I had more time for this. Perhaps that’s just me ageing (it’s the best part of seven years since I saw Mean Streets) and becoming more attuned to this kind of movie; the kind that uses “hesitations, repetitions, and longueurs as tools of disruption and misdirection”, by a director so “mistrustful of anything that smacked of tidy resolution, he regularly turned his movies around in the editing to more ambiguous and purposefully aggravating effect.”

That’s the kind of movie Chinese Bookie is: ambiguous, purposefully aggravating, without a tidy resolution. It requires the audience to work a bit. Is it worth the effort? You know, I’m never quite sure (see Bicycle Thieves for another example), and whether I appreciate it or not probably depends as much on the mood a particular film catches me in as much as its inherent quality (see also Rage). This one, while as awkward as any, engaged me just enough.

Wallander: The Troubled Man (2013)

Posted on June 21, 2014 by badblokebob

aka Mankell’s Wallander: Den orolige mannen

Krister Henriksson returns as the Swedish detective for a third and final series of mysteries, starting with this final theatrically-released episode, based on the final Wallander novel. Yes, there is a sense of finality here — albeit one not reached just yet.

The central mystery revolves around a foreign submarine being discovered in Swedish waters back in the ’80s — inspired by real events that caused a national scandal, something which (if I remember rightly) was also an element in the plot of The Girl Who Played With Fire. Thirty years on, the body of a diver who disappeared during that event is discovered, kicking off a whole political brouhaha. Wallander’s son-in-law’s father was a high-ranking official at the time, and when he disappears, Wallander gets unofficially roped in to investigate.

Alongside this runs a more personal story for our hero: he’s free to go off on this personal inquiry because he’s been suspended from the police after leaving his gun in a cafe while drunk. It’s moderately clear to the viewer, however, that Wallander wasn’t drunk, but that he’s perhaps getting forgetful more generally… A major part of the first couple of British Wallander series was Kurt’s father’s battle with dementia, something which I don’t think has been touched on in this Swedish series, but that knowledge makes it all the more clear where this is headed.

It’s here that Henriksson gets to show off his acting chops the most. At a dinner party with his family, Wallander largely sits quietly with a drink rather than interact with others, occasionally staring aimlessly into the distance, or only remotely engaging with what the others are doing. He witters about a painting of a goat. Later, he has a disproportionately angry response when his friend brings news that he’s been suspended. He dotes on his granddaughter, but one day loses her and her buggy when he pops into a shop — but finds her quickly enough that no one will be any the wiser. Little signs like this are scattered around, clueing us in to where Wallander will presumably end up: retired from the force, and possibly retired from his life. Whether Mankell brought the issues to a head in his novel or not, I don’t know, but here I can only imagine it will build throughout the series.

As a fan of the character, it can be a little difficult to watch at times, I suppose similar to the way I imagine it must feel to watch a loved one begin to struggle so (not that I mean to equate the life of a fictional character to real-life suffering, but you know what I mean). That’s really another credit to Henriksson, for making a character we identify with who is now in trouble. He’s never been a maverick or a whizz kid or any of those flashy things that make some characters obviously identifiable as The Hero that we’re supposed to love, but his steadfastness created a character many admire and are attached to, and it’s disquieting to see that begin to slip away.

The one thing that really cuts through Kurt’s newfound confusedness is when he gets a nose for a case. Quietly, by himself, he sets about digging in to what’s going on, unearthing evidence that’s been missed by others, piecing it together to complete a picture of long-kept secrets and new crimes committed in the name of keeping them. It resolves into a complex conspiracy, one that touches the lives of altogether innocent people. Is there justice at the end of it? Of a sort, but how satisfying that justice is… well…

Incidentally, this story is on the slate to be filmed as part of Branagh’s final series of Wallander tales, whenever he gets round to it. He’s said in interviews that he feels it requires two full 90-minute episodes to tell, which is interesting because here it’s completed in just one — and not one that feels rushed. Quite the opposite, if anything: this has all the slow pace of gradually unfurled storytelling that you’d expect from European Drama. Perhaps there’s some personal stuff that’s been bumped to the rest of this series; perhaps subplots were ditched. I’d like to have seen more of the female detective Wallander encounters in Stockholm, Ytterberg, who seemed like a great character given too little to do — perhaps she has a bigger role? We’ll find out, eventually. (Or I could just read the book now, of course.)

The Troubled Man is not the greatest of Wallander tales, in the end, and as the opening act of a final movement it lacks conclusions that will, one can only assume, ultimately come in a few episodes’ time. But, like our titular hero, even when not at his best, he’s still a force to be reckoned with.

The last-ever episode of Wallander, The Sad Bird, is on BBC Four tonight at 9pm.

Once Upon a Time in America (1984)

Posted on June 15, 2014 by badblokebob

2013 #38
Sergio Leone | 220 mins | DVD | 1.85:1 | Italy & USA / English | 18 / R

Part of Leone’s intended trilogy about the history of violence in the USA, Once Upon a Time in America is the life story of four friends and gangsters in Noo Yoik during a large chunk of the 20th Century. So it’s a gangster film focusing on violence, then? Well, no… not at all, really. Indeed, saying Once Upon a Time in America is a film about gangsters is a bit like saying Die Hard is a documentary on police procedure during a hostage crisis — sure, there’s something of that in there, but if you’re focused on it then you’re missing the point.

I refer to “the point” as if, a) I’m some kind of expert about to expound on it, or b) there is a singular ‘point’ to this three-and-a-three-quarter-hour epic. Neither is true. In fact, I’ve perhaps never felt less qualified to discuss a film in depth. Thing is, it’s a difficult film to digest in one viewing, because there’s so much there. It’s not just the length (Titanic is pretty straightforward through its three-and-a-bit hours; even something superior like Apocalypse Now Redux I ‘got’ first time), though that is a factor: over such a long time, it’s packed with incident, and shaped in a non-traditional — or non-common (uncommon, you might say) — narrative structure. A first viewing is an exercise in following what’s going on, what connects to what else, why things are happening in such an order. It fairly begs, “get a handle on it this time, you can analyse it when you watch it again”.

And analysing it may, I think, be a requirement, because this isn’t a film of straightforwardness or easy answers. For one, it asks much of the viewer in our interpretation of the characters: this is a film where our (supposed?) heroes do truly despicable things, and not in aid of a “they’re actually the villain” twist either. Is Leone exposing us to reality — that not all those who do horrible things are horrible people? Or is he just a misogynist? Or a lover of violence? It’s something grander critics than I have battled with for decades.

Leaving aside the less savoury aspects (as, it seems, many have to), a lot of the discussion when it comes to a Leone film is always of his fantastic visual and storytelling style. That’s not unmerited, and while it’s not as overt here as in his Westerns, it is present. But he was a filmmaker with an awful lot of substance too — perhaps a daunting amount. What he created here is an Epic in the truest sense of the word, but in addition to that, it’s a peculiarly intimate one. It has an epic’s length and a decades-long sweep, at times exposing and commenting on facets of entire eras that it traverses; but it’s really ‘just’ the story of a small group of friends, their successes and their failures, their triumphs and their tragedies — probably with the emphasis on the latter — over a more extended period of their lives than most movies are prepared to tackle. That probably doesn’t make it unique (someone else must have attempted such a feat, surely), but it does make it rare; and when something rare is created with such undoubtable skill and achievement, it certainly merits deeper consideration — over an equally long period of time, I suspect, as the ghost of 82 notes in his summation.

My relationship with Leone’s oeuvre is, on reflection, a vexed one. While I liked A Fistful of Dollars and was instantly beguiled by For a Few Dollars More (both fairly straightforward action Westerns, or at least digestible in that way), it took me two or three viewings to appreciate Once Upon a Time in the West (now it would contend for a place among my favourite films), and I wasn’t congruent with The Good, the Bad and the Ugly — to a point where, about a decade on, I still haven’t found time to revisit it and try to see what all the fuss is about. Once Upon a Time in America falls somewhere between these two stools. It’s a film that is, I think, easy to instantly admire — if not wholly, then for its majority; but also one I found difficult to process a full personal reaction to. With the recently-extended version set to arrive on DVD/Blu-ray/download later this year (in the US, at any rate), an ultra-convenient chance for a second evaluation looms.

Once Upon a Time in America was viewed as part of my What Do You Mean You Haven’t Seen…? 12 for 2013 project, which you can read more about here.

Elysium (2013)

Posted on June 13, 2014 by badblokebob

The year is 2154 (the same year as Avatar, apparently. No idea if that’s meant to signify anything). The wealthy have left Earth to live in a giant space station of luxury called Elysium, rendering Earth (or, at least, Los Angeles) one gigantic ethnic slum. It’s in the latter we meet Max (Matt Damon), an ex-con who winds up in a factory accident that leaves him with just five days to live — unless he can get to Elysium, where their Magical Medical Machines could heal him in minutes. Unfortunately he doesn’t have the cash to buy transport from his criminal connections; and even if he did, the station’s over-zealous security chief (Jodie Foster) has a habit of blowing up approaching illegal immigrants. Fortunately, there may be a more revolutionary option…

That said, this isn’t a film about a principled revolution, something it seems a few viewers have unfairly judged it for because that’s what they expected or wanted. It is an issue-driven film (to an extent), but rather than present a mass revolt motivated by the desire to Change Things, it follows the effects brought about when people — even one man — are pushed to extremes just to survive. Whether the world this occurs in is a wholly plausible SF future is debatable, but I’m not sure that’s the point. Elysium is a parable; one related to current hot-button topics (in the US especially) like immigration and access to healthcare for the poor. I’m sure some would therefore characterise it as Left Wing, for good or ill, but I think its underlying message is more fundamental than that: it’s just humanitarian.

Unfortunately, it seems writer-director Neill Blomkamp (of the acclaimed District 9) got distracted by his Point and slipped up in other areas. There are various bits and pieces of the plot that don’t quite hang together — so many quibbles, in fact, that I’m not even going to attempt to go into them. Some are hand-wavable under the “it’s a parable” excuse, others just seem sloppy; how much they impact your enjoyment will vary.

Characters get short shrift too. Every one is more sketched than drawn, which is problematic for the leads: Damon is left with little to do other than fight things and try to inject pathos in to what scraps of personality are there. It’s the same for sort-of love interest Alice Braga, who alternates between looking concerned and looking caring. An early tease of a romantic subplot all but evaporates: Damon persuades her to meet him for coffee at eight, but then he doesn’t seem to turn up and neither of them mention it again. You what?

Supporting characters are commonly less detailed anyhow, so at least the remaining cast are not so poorly served. Sharlto Copley is in a deliciously scowling-panto-villain mode as the primary physical antagonist, almost seeming to be from a different movie because he’s having such fun. Diego Luna and, in particular, Wagner Moura offer able support on the side of our hero, even if it is sometimes a bit “white person with person-of-colour sidekicks”. Goodness only knows what Jodie Foster is doing, though. It sounds and looks like she’s struggling with a bizarre accent, while always being American. A similar problem seems to afflict William Fichtner to a lesser extent, so perhaps it’s some incomprehensible deliberate decision to differentiate the wealthy from the normal folk? I’ve read one report that Foster’s entire performance had to be dubbed, which might be a better explanation.

Ultimately, there’s little that can undermine its social point (even if the solution here is perhaps not as splendiferous as it first appears), but if you’ve decided to not be cognisant of that in favour of The Plot, they might grate more. Conversely, if you want to watch people in cool future spaceships wearing cool future armour shoot at each other with cool future guns, not much is going to trouble you. There’s a fair degree of that, because Blomkamp has (wisely?) slipped in his moral points under the aegis of an action movie. In that regard it’s fine — there’s nothing exceptionally memorable, and there’s some borderline-distracting hoop-jumping to keep threats both coming and suitably dangerous, but it’s efficient enough.

There’s also something viscerally pleasurable about seeing a decently-budgeted R-rated effects movie these days. You’d think that classification would keep the budget down, but it reportedly cost over $100 million — and it looks it, with epic must-be-CGI situations that are faultlessly rendered. I suppose when the biggest PG-13 blockbusters are seeing their costs spiral towards triple that, a budget that only nudges into nine figures doesn’t look so bad. Hopefully that’s good news for those of us who would like to see more grown-up (whether that be intellectually or violently) effects-requiring movies.

In fact, the film’s strongest element all-round is almost certainly its production design. Some of it is of the “nothing new” variety (the robot police, the ‘ship designs, the see-through future computers — all good work, but broadly familiar), but then you have pieces like the mission control-style command room of Elysium’s security services: large, multi-level, glossily black, but with vine-like plants crawling up the surfaces. It’s a bit different; it works. Everything is crafted or augmented with that flawless CG work, providing a drip-feed of enjoyable or intriguing sights.

Blomkamp is a writer-director clearly committed to doing bold work in a film genre that is increasingly about spectacle over story, action over allegory, popcorn-selling over point. Elysium may not be the fully-realised vision he was likely hoping for, and more work on the screenplay would clearly have been a benefit, but top marks to the man for trying to do something worthwhile. Surely he remains one to watch.

Elysium is new to Sky Movies this week, starting today on Premiere at 4pm and 8pm. It’s also on Now TV, of course.

Mad Max (1979)

Posted on May 29, 2014 by badblokebob

The man who would go on to helm Babe: Pig in the City and Happy Feet here delivers the best-known Ozploitation movie, an occasionally scrappy B-level production that’s primarily concerned with violent gang antics and road chases. It stars everyone’s favourite Hollywood madman Mel Gibson as Max Rockatansky, a road cop in what might be a slightly dystopian post-apocalyptic Australia or might just be a bleakly-considered version of ‘now’, where he and his colleagues are targeted by a biker gang after one of their members is killed during a pursuit.

Said pursuit opens the film in style. It’s a surprisingly-lengthy white-knuckle sequence that introduces us not only to Max, but to what director George Miller is capable of. Even 35 years on it remains a mightily effective set piece, with more punch than the average over-choreographed CGI-addled chases of the last decade-and-a-half of moviemaking.

Unfortunately it’s so good that the rest of the film struggles to match its adrenaline-pumping level, which must leave some viewers particularly underwhelmed. After meandering through something approaching a plot, the film really comes alive again when Max takes a holiday. No, really. Even though Miller can’t again match the excitement of his opening salvo, he at least offers sequences of tension and shock, including the pivotal moment where Max is driven Mad.

The film’s finale is surprisingly fast, a brief explosion of revenge that doesn’t provide your standard Action Movie thrills, but can muster some memorable stunts and lines. It’s here Max goes from average super-cop to full on movie hero. In reading up on the film, a few pieces analyse the ending as Max going to the dark side — becoming as bad as those he was fighting against; or, at the very least, becoming an anti-hero. I didn’t see it that way at first, which I think is the difference between 1979 and what’s happened in movies since. Now we routinely have heroes who do bad things: look at Jack Bauer’s love of torture in 24, or everything Liam Neeson does in Taken. Those characters are never presented as anything other than the good guy; there’s no (or very little) question that what they’re doing is right, and that we should root for them. Maybe we should be questioning Max’s actions at the end, and considering the possibility that he may have become a villain himself. Maybe people did that, once. Now, I think the majority of viewers (especially for this genre) would uncomplicatedly cheer him on.

On the bright side, such moral considerations at least lend some extra depth. Even without it, Mad Max delivers a fitfully exciting car-action movie. It’s probably best known today thanks to its sequels, but still has much to offer those who like, or would like to discover, the almost-grindhouse-esque gritty thrills of ’70s independent exploitation movies.

The Wolverine: Extended Cut (2013)

Posted on May 22, 2014 by badblokebob

aka The Wolverine: Unleashed Extended Edition

Rather than a sequel to the poorly-received X-Men Origins: Wolverine (which I mistakenly gave four stars back when it was in cinemas — hey, everyone else was too harsh), Fox’s X-Men film franchise here jumps back to the present day (after a ’60s aside for the excellent First Class) for the first time since 2006, to see what happened to fan-favourite Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) after he (spoilers!) killed the love of his life to save the world in poorly-received (though, again, it’s not as bad as most people think) X-Men trilogy-closer The Last Stand.

We catch up with Logan as a recluse in the wilds of his native Canada. He’s soon sought out by swordswoman Yukio (Rila Fukushima), who has been sent to bring him to Japan. There, a man whose life Logan saved in World War II (Haruhiko Yamanouchi) has become a technology giant, and wants to offer Wolverine the one thing no one else has: the removal of his healing factor, and with it the chance to finally die a normal death. Of course things aren’t all they appear, with numerous threats emerging to the old man, to his family — including his daughter, and Logan’s love interest, Mariko (Tao Okamoto) — and, of course, to everyone’s favourite beclawed mutant.

For the most part, The Wolverine feels refreshingly different to other superhero movies. That’s largely thanks to its Japanese setting and supporting cast, the primary element inherited from the acclaimed Chris Claremont/Frank Miller comic book miniseries that loosely inspired the film (not that anyone gets a credit for that). Those might sound like superficial differences, but the change of faces, scenery and culture seems to have infused the film’s attitude. Couple that with a plot that is more of a thriller than one of the usual three Superhero Movie storylines, and the end result is a moderately unique movie. OK, it doesn’t ooze originality, but nor does it feel quite like your run-of-the-mill powered-people-punch-each-other comic book yarn.

Indeed, in places it threatens to become a proper character study. Although almost all of the X-Men movies have focused on Logan, it’s debatable how much they’ve dug in to him as a person before now — they’ve not dwelt on what his mutation means for his life or personality, merely used his memory loss as the chance for a mystery. There’s lots more exploration of the former here, at least by the standards of a summer blockbuster; and alongside that, the plot incorporates issues of honour and familial responsibility, which are suitably echoed by the Japanese setting and culture.

While it may be Jackman’s film — something only emphasised by a sprawling array of new characters that there isn’t quite enough time for — he’s not the only one who stands out. It’s Fukushima and Okamoto who are memorable in particular, and having such effective female characters once again distances the film from the majority of its genre brethren. It seems a shame neither feature in Days of Future Past — not that there’d be room for them, I suppose — but if the mooted third Wolverine solo outing comes to pass, I hope one or both are back.

Talking of women, you can’t overlook Logan’s lost love, Famke Janssen’s Jean Grey. Considering the build-up pitched The Wolverine as a standalone film, with perhaps the occasional nod to the wider X-universe, including rumours of a Jean cameo, the final film is surprisingly tied-in to previous events: there’s actually loads of Jean (how? Well…), and Wolverine’s personal journey is very much grounded in the events of The Last Stand. I’m sure you could watch this without having seen or remembered a previous X-movie, because the bulk of the plot is indeed standalone, but the emotional journey is invested in what came before.

Unfortunately, a couple of things spoil the party — for starters, another woman: as Viper-lady, Svetlana Khodchenkova camps it up too much. When the rest of the film is more serious, almost plain dramatic in places, her OTT comic book stylings jar uncomfortably. It doesn’t help that the movie is bizarrely overstuffed with villains. Considering the general dramatic emphasis, it needs them even less than usual; plus, when it’s been observed for over 15 years (i.e. since Batman & Robin) that a superhero movie suffers under the weight of too many antagonists, there’s no excuse for it anymore.

More of a let down is the regular-superhero-schtick climax. A mix of muddled storytelling (things go unexplained, then are suddenly clarified in a rush of exposition) and a trashy “make the villain stronger, then punch him lots” escalation of action, it’s a disappointing end to a film that has otherwise felt on course for “genre classic”-level distinctiveness. Without seeing all the behind-the-scenes goings-on it’s difficult to know whose fault this was, but it’s equally difficult to imagine the screenplay that Darren Aronofsky (far from your regular blockbuster director) described as “a terrific script” could have concluded this way; and knowing that his replacement, James Mangold, fiddled with the script before shooting commenced… well, draw your own conclusions.

Still, other technical elements shine: there’s beautiful cinematography from Ross Emery, and Marco Beltrami’s score is nice — no bit particularly sticks in my mind, but it felt suitably evocative. Even if the climax disappoints, there’s a smattering of entertaining action sequences before that, including some great claws-on-sword duelling. Some of this has been amped for the twelve-minutes-longer extended cut, though a lot of that additional time actually goes to the dramatic side of things, as detailed here. There are 65 alterations in all, which frankly I couldn’t be bothered to read through. (However, I noticed at least three uses of the F-word, a number which I believe America’s tick-box classification system grants an automatic R. In the UK it seems such antics can be allowed to slide at a 12.)

The Wolverine isn’t quite the movie it could have been; nor, I think, quite the one the makers hoped they were producing. Jackman has intimated since that it’s studio interference that pushes for silly-big action sequences and the like, but that fan feedback might slowly be winning them around to the things viewers actually care about. Whether that’s true or not, I guess we’ll see in the next instalment…

X-Men: Days of Future Past is released in the UK today, the US tomorrow, and pretty much everywhere else at some point this week. The next Wolverine movie is currently scheduled for release on 3rd March 2017.

Visions of Light (1992)

Posted on May 18, 2014 by badblokebob

2014 #33
Arnold Glassman, Todd McCarthy & Stuart Samuels | 90 mins | TV | 16:9 | USA & Japan / English | PG

Cinematographers discuss cinematography in this AFI-produced documentary. Initially a whistlestop history of film photography, it segues into analysis of movies the interviewed DPs had shot. Unfortunately, casual film fans may judge it monotopical, while hardened cineastes may find it a haphazard, Hollywood-centric overview.

However, there’s real delight to be found in the clips, and the discoveries you can make through them. It opens with an extended section on David Lean’s Oliver Twist, which in my experience is mainly discussed for Alec Guinness’ Fagin, but on this evidence is visually awe-inspiring. This showcasing, plus a smattering of insights, redeem any imperfections.

In the interests of completing my ever-growing backlog, I decided to post ‘drabble reviews’ of some films. For those unfamiliar with the concept, a drabble is a complete piece of writing exactly 100 words long.

Bicycle Thieves (1948)

Posted on May 4, 2014 by badblokebob

aka Ladri di biciclette

In the interests of completing my ever-growing backlog, I decided to post ‘drabble reviews’ of some films. For those unfamiliar with the concept, a drabble is a complete piece of writing exactly 100 words long.

The victor of Sight & Sound’s inaugural “greatest film” poll (though it’s slipped down the rankings ever since), this is the simple story of a man hunting for his stolen bicycle, which is vital for his job, hard-won in a time of unemployment and poverty.

Bicycle Thieves is deemed “one of the masterpieces of Italian neorealism”, which apparently means it’s without symbolism or allegory. But if it’s nothing other than a “slice of life”… if we’re to garner nothing more than “here is something that happened”… well, is it even more simplistic than it already appears? And is that enough?

Bicycle Thieves was viewed as part of my What Do You Mean You Haven’t Seen…? 12 for 2013 project, which you can read more about here.

Solomon Kane (2009)

Posted on May 1, 2014 by badblokebob

The year 1600: British ship’s captain Solomon Kane is not a nice man, a mite too fond of pillagin’ and killin’ and quite possibly other not-nice things ending in —in’. That is until he has a run in with the Devil’s Reaper. Hell has claimed his soul, and its time to collect. Solomon does not plan on being collected, renouncing his former life and trying to hide at a monastery in England. But as a gang of possessed men lay waste to the countryside, burning its towns and enslaving its people, will Solomon be able to stick to his newfound pacifism? Yeah, we all know the answer to that…

Star of a series of pulp fantasy stories and poems by Robert E. Howard, creator of Conan, this version of Solomon Kane is inspired by those works rather than adapted from them. It’s an origin story, showing how Solomon came to be the man he is in Howard’s tales, though you’d be forgiven for missing that: writer-director (and lifelong fan) Bassett has managed to construct a story that feels entirely complete in itself, not mere setup for future adventures. Even though the ending is ready for the planned-but-unlikely sequels, it’s open for, rather than expectant of, them; a pleasing oddity in today’s franchise-driven blockbuster landscape.

The style is a fantasy-horror mash-up, recalling everything from the 1982 Conan to Witchfinder General, and plenty more besides. That’s not to say its a rip-off of those movies, or even some kind of cobbled-together reference-fest, but rather that its roots and inspirations — the previous works it aligns itself with — are discernible for those familiar with them. There’s some creepy creatures and sequences, no doubt thanks to Bassett’s previous directing horror movies, but also a more-than-requisite amount of swordfighting and the like — all told, Kane is more period action-adventure (with demons) than period horror.

Nonetheless, some viewers have found the pacing off. It’s true that after a big opening action scene the story slows down for a time, and that later on events become a tad episodic, but I think this gives the film more of a unique flavour than your usual action-adventure flick, where the action sequences are carefully designed to build in scale and are methodically spaced throughout the running time. The way Bassett plays things allows more time for character and mood to grow, and while his screenplay doesn’t always excel at uncovering those things, a first-rate cast brings the necessary.

In the titular role, James Purefoy is best as snarling action hero rather than when tormented and penitent… but that might just be because all-action Kane is more fun. Indeed, the less-nice version we meet in the opening sequence is perhaps the best of all. On his solo audio commentary, Bassett says that everyone on the crew fell in love with that incarnation, and suggests there might be room for a prequel starring the pre-heroic version of the character. If we’re not getting sequels then we’re certainly not getting that, but Kane’s anti-hero antics do promise entertainment value. (I’ve read that Kane isn’t actually all that nice in Howard’s original stories — perhaps, contrary to the film’s “origin story” aims, more like the movie’s opening version? The film has given me a desire to check out the original works, though I don’t know when I’ll get round to it.)

In support there’s the likes of Pete Postlethwaite, Alice Krige and Max von Sydow, all of whom bring instant heft to roles that need it. I don’t mean to say the screenplay doesn’t contain it, but the shorthand the actors bring with them certainly does favours. Cameo-sized appearances by Mackenzie Crook and Jason Flemyng are also effective, and watch out for a pre-Game of Thrones appearance by Rory McCann, aka The Hound.

Although made for a relatively tight budget on a swift schedule, every technical element sings. Dan Laustsen’s cinematography is gorgeous, whether it be the golden hues of an African throne room, the cold blue-whites of an English winter, or the muddy browns and rainy greys of later sections. I’m sure there’s a lot of digital grading involved in all this, but does it really matter how something was achieved when it’s achieved so well?

Full marks too for Ricky Eyre’s production design, David Baxa’s art direction and Lee Gordon’s set decoration. I don’t want this to read like the credits scroll, but the work done on the sets and locations is phenomenal and those responsible deserve the praise. Their work wouldn’t look out of place in something as crazily budgeted as The Hobbit — and hurrah to them for actually building it, whereas the majority of Jackson’s Middle-earth locales now seem to be CGI.

My praise also extends to those responsible for the film’s location shooting. Shot in the Czech Republic, for once that genuinely looks like Britain. OK, the style of some buildings give the game away occasionally (in particular the monastery), but until I read different, I just assumed the fields, forest and coastline had been found in our real South West, on the moors or what have you.

Further kudos to those responsible for the fight choreography (so good that even a deleted sequence (included on the Blu-ray) is better than many films can manage), for make-up, for creature design, for costumes, for the CGI… Rare is the element that lets this movie down. Indeed, my one real gripe is a final-act monster that seems to be beyond the scope of the filmmakers — between slightly jerky animation and a flatly limited choice of camera angles, it literally looks like a modern video game cutscene. Considering the excellent effects in the rest of the film (the opening sequence is a highlight in this regard, particularly the flaming sword that begins to melt Kane’s own), it’s a shame. That said, it’s not bad CGI, just not top-notch. If that’s the biggest complaint, there’s nothing to worry about.

Also, it’s permanently raining. Which looks great. Whoever was in charge of rain did a fab job.

At the end of the day, Solomon Kane is a period fantasy action-adventure, something which doesn’t seem to be everyone’s taste — it has relatively weak scores on the likes of IMDb and Rotten Tomatoes (though, in the context of how this kind of movie often performs in those arenas, they’re far from awful). For my money, however, it’s a great little film. It looks beautiful, it renders the tone of pulp fantasy brilliantly, its action sequences are exciting (so many swordfights! Heaven!) and its creepy bits unnerving. It may not be ‘trash’ elevated to art — it’s not a Tarantino movie — but it is pulp fiction treated with due reverence.

The UK TV premiere of Solomon Kane is on Film4 tonight at 9pm.

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013)

Posted on April 7, 2014 by badblokebob

The Desolation of Smowg-not-Smorg begins in the same way the preceding part of the Hobbit trilogy ended: with a glaring logic hole. After the giant eagles carried our band of heroes many miles away from the party of orcs that have been stalking them — but not all the way to Erebor because… um… — we begin Part 2 with our heroes being chased by… that party of orcs that had been stalking them. You what now?

Unfortunately this is a sign of what’s to come: the ensuing 160 minutes (shorter than An Unexpected Journey, but feeling far longer) are littered with odd and borderline-nonsensical decisions. Thus we have a film that skips briskly past some parts of the novel it’s adapting, but later throws in massive new subplots all of its own. Unlike some audience members, I don’t have a problem with the very idea of Jackson embellishing this tale in its telling, but rushing parts of Tolkien only to find room for new asides strikes me as an odd choice.

And there is an awful lot of stuff in the film. If the first instalment was indulgent in setting up the adventure we were about to embark on, this middle part is restless to the point of distraction. It buffets us from action sequence to action sequence with barely a chance to catch our breath. Rather than making time fly, however, this has the unfortunate side effect of making everything feel much longer than it actually is. However, I accept that this may be “Two Towers syndrome”: a film that left me clock-watching the first couple of times, but which I eventually came to accept and enjoy on its own merits.

It’s my understanding that the originally-planned (and shot) two-part version of Jackson’s Hobbit adaptation was transformed into a trilogy by, essentially, taking what was to be film #2 and splitting it in half. That might explain why individual sections are allowed to go on so long here: to bulk up the running time to the kind of epic proportions audiences expect from a Middle-earth movie. Anything less than two-and-a-half hours isn’t going to cut it. But when your climax is a battle between a giant dragon (cool!) and a small army of dwarves (kick ass!) around a deserted underground city (hell yeah!), but my main thought afterwards is, “God that went on a bit”, then you’ve failed at something.

The other headline action scene is the dwarves’ river-based escape from an elf city, pursued by both elves and orcs, who fight each other over and around the river even as they chase our heroes. It’s a visual cacophony; a whirling dervish of elements that becomes hard to follow, much less enjoy. We’ve come a long way from the grounded realism of Helm’s Deep — this is full-on, cartoon-style, obviously-computer-generated bluster. This extends right to the climax: while most of the dwarves are having a runaround with Smowg-not-Smorg, Legolas fights some orcs — well, quite a few orcs; which is rather my point: it gets numbingly repetitive. Less can definitely be more, a lesson the filmmakers must have forgotten by this point.

The already hefty cast is padded out further here, several of the additions battling against strange new accents, particularly Evangeline Lilly’s elf warrior(ess) Tauriel, though at least Lee Pace’s elven king is supposed to be haughty. Meanwhile, Luke Evans’ Bard is as Welsh as the actor’s name suggests, which is a little bit of a surprise. But then the dwarves’ accents have all the rest of the UK covered, so why not. Benedict Cumberbatch sounds like Benedict Cumberbatch playing ‘big’ as Smowg-not-Smorg. It feels like this should be an iconic villain performance but, while good, I found it somehow lacking. Expectation may be scuppering him; maybe I’ll warm to it on future viewings.

Yet for all that, the most surprising thing, at least to anyone not versed in the original story, is where the film ends. Clearly there’s more tale to get through, but not two-and-a-half-hours’ worth, surely? Co-screenwriter Philippa Boyens has said she “got a shock when the audience got a shock” about where this part ended, adding that “if you can imagine what transpires next and what’s coming, it’s quite a huge chunk of storytelling.” I’ll take her word for it for now.

One thing you can’t fault these films on is their production design and the craft in bringing it to life. During production the studios were a 24/7 operation, dismantling, building and re-arranging sets overnight to be ready for the next day’s shooting; while the prosthetics department had to work continuously, and at a 98% success rate too, just to keep up with demand. I suppose that’s what happens when every actor in a large ensemble cast has at least some small thing stuck on them. As with Lord of the Rings before it, this is a fully-realised world, with Laketown being perhaps the most impressive setting… but then maybe that’s because I know they essentially built it for real, and I alway feel that’s more impressive than rendering a ginormous hall in a computer.

I haven’t picked apart everything that’s wrong with the film (what purpose is there switching from one made-up-for-the-film orc general to another?!), but then nor have I praised everything that works (there are some quality actors in amongst all that crashing and banging). It seems a fair few people liked this Hobbit instalment more than the first; the best explanation I can find is, “because it’s got more action”. Far be it from me to accuse other film viewers of being shallow, but… really? I genuinely enjoyed An Unexpected Journey as a return to the beloved realms and peoples of Middle-earth. The Desolation of Smowg-not-Smaug has some of that, and the charm of introducing us to new parts of the world too, but it’s drowned out by so much aimless noise. Here’s hoping it improves with repeat viewings and/or the inevitable extended edition, because this time I nearly slipped down to a lowly 3 stars.

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug is released on DVD and Blu-ray in the UK today, Monday 7th April, and in the US tomorrow.

My review of the Extended Edition can now be read here.

The concluding film, The Hobbit: There and Back Again, is in cinemas from December 12th in the UK, December 17th in the US, and a whole host of random dates everywhere else.

100Films.co.uk

100% movies. Except when it's about TV.

Category Archives: 4 stars