A Good Woman (2004)

Posted on January 19, 2011 by badblokebob

2010 #121
Mike Barker | 89 mins | TV | PG / PG

A Good Woman adapts Oscar Wilde’s 1892 play Lady Windermere’s Fan, switching the setting to the Amalfi Coast in 1930. If one didn’t know better, one would believe that’s when and where it was always set.

And if one does know better, apparently one should hate it. Most reviews, which are largely negative, focus on it being a poor conversion of the play. I’ve never seen nor read the original and thought it slotted seamlessly into its new ’30s setting (even though I am of course aware that Wilde was not writing (or doing much else) by the 1930s).

It remains a very funny piece — well, I presume “remains” rather than “becomes”, because it seems this is purely thanks to Wilde’s outstanding wit rather than any particular skill in adaptation or acting. While I have nothing against either, it’s the witticisms — or one-liners, if you prefer — that give the film most of its quality.

Another point reviewers like to pounce on is the US cast members. Scarlett Johansson is neither here nor there, as per usual, but I thought Helen Hunt was quite good. It’s undoubtable that they’re overshadowed by British thesps like Tom Wilkinson and Stephen Campbell Moore however, but that’s just par for the course.

So it seems one’s perception of the film lies in what it is compared to. Compared to Wilde’s original, it may indeed be a pale imitation, relocated to an inappropriate country and period, with lacklustre performances and incongruous Wilde-penned lines crowbarred in. Taken without the context of the work it’s adapted from, however, I thought it was a flawed but, more importantly, highly amusing film.

Odd Man Out (1947)

Posted on January 11, 2011 by badblokebob

2010 #115
Carol Reed | 111 mins | TV | PG

It may be a bit of a cop out to begin a review by pointing you to another, but I must recommend Colin’s heartfelt appreciation at Ride the High Country. It certainly inspired me to watch the film, which had been sat on my V+ box for over a year. As you’re going to read that (assuming you haven’t already), I’ll just offer a couple of observations I jotted down.

The consciously episodic story, screenwritten by R.C. Sherriff, author of the exceptional World War One play Journey’s End, presents us with an array of characters. James Mason is ostensibly the star, but he spends much of the film in a daze, drifting from group to group. And that’s fine — it leaves the way open for other characters to shine. For instance I liked the driver, Pat, played by Cyril Cusack. My notes don’t say why, but I thought his character was rather good — not a good guy, perhaps, but a good character. The real star, if anyone, is Kathleen played by Kathleen Ryan, who comes into her own during the film’s final act and its conclusion. I’d throw an adjective in front of “conclusion”, but perhaps you should discover it for yourself.

This episodic structure does make for some lengthy, perhaps even borderline dull, asides. I could do without F.J. McCormick’s Shell and, especially, Robert Newton’s Lukey. (You’ll also note Newton’s performance is criticised in Colin’s piece so, in aid of not sounding like I’m too easily influenced, I’d like to point out I didn’t make the connection between his comments and my own notes on Newton until afterwards.) Shell and Lukey have a bit of a point in the end, but I didn’t enjoy getting through them in comparison to the rest of the film.

What the structure really facilitates is the depiction of a cross-section of Northern Irish life, and particularly their reaction to “the organisation” — it doesn’t take a genius to guess what that means. As the opening scroll said, this is indeed concerned “only with the conflict in the hearts of the people when they become unexpectedly involved”, but by leaving out detail of the politically contentious background to the unrest, it perhaps robs the characters’ indecision of any basis. All bar a couple of exceptions fall into the “don’t want to pick a side, don’t want to get involved” camp, foisting Johnny out of anything to do with them ASAP, but at least it suggests such a view was widespread across people of all backgrounds.

The score, by William Alwyn, is really nice, particularly in certain places — for example when it begins to snow and Johnny wanders the streets, or at its most effective during the haunting climax, as Kathleen hauls a near-dead Johnny through the falling snow towards the safety of the shipyard as the police finally close in.

My notes also say “discuss the use of the kids? And Johnny’s visions?” I’m afraid to say I forget why. Comments on these elements are welcomed.

I hesitate to make a comparison between Odd Man Out and The Third Man, director Carol Reed’s more famous film noir, because I’ve not seen the latter for far too long; but I imagine this holds its own, because it’s certainly an engaging and suitably unusual entry in the genre.

The Outrage (1964)

Posted on December 14, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #116
Martin Ritt | 92 mins | TV | 12

If you’ve ever seen Akira Kurosawa’s classic Rashomon, the opening minutes of The Outrage will leave you in no doubt that you’re watching a Hollywood remake. From the dilapidated-location-in-heavy-rain opening scene on, Michael Kanin’s screenplay sticks closely to Kurosawa’s, and Martin Ritt’s direction doesn’t stray too far either. But don’t mistake this effort for a thoroughly pointless rehash a la Gus Van Sant’s Psycho — though it can’t better the original, The Outrage has much going for it.

Naturally the story is as fascinating as ever, not just for the fact it offers different versions of what happened, but for what the protagonists feel the need to modify in their accounts — after all, they’re happy to confess to several crimes, so why obscure the facts in other ways. Was Rashomon so conclusive, though? I don’t remember it being so. Yes, The Outrage’s final retelling is still just one person’s perspective, but it’s set up as an objective and definitive one. Plus I didn’t get what was going on with the crying baby, which I seem to remember being in Rashomon but I don’t recall being baffled by. Maybe that’s just me.

Kanin’s reconfiguration of the story as a Western is seamless thanks to numerous intelligent tweaks and changes — if you didn’t know this wasn’t the tale’s original location, you’d have no reason to suspect otherwise. Ritt backs it up with some striking cinematography. It might not be as innovative as Kurosawa’s camera-into-the-sun antics, but he still produces a good-looking and meticulously composed picture.

Paul Newman is excellent, unrecognisable under thorough makeup and consistent characterisation as Mexican outlaw Carrasco. The rest of the fairly starry cast are also very good, the majority treated to interestingly conflicted or gradually revealed characters, not least Claire Bloom as the rape victim and possible murderess — and possibly many other things, depending which version you choose to believe; and possibly all of them, too.

The Outrage doesn’t seem to be very well remembered, rarely seeming to qualify even as a footnote in discussion of Rashomon (unlike, say, The Magnificent Seven for Seven Samurai), which I think is unfair. There wasn’t much chance Ritt’s film could outdo the original at its own game, but what it does manage is the almost-as-impressive achievement of retelling the story differently, and well.

The Outrage is showing on More4 tomorrow, Wednesday 15th December, at 11:20am.

Solaris (1972)

Posted on December 9, 2010 by badblokebob

aka Solyaris

2010 #113
Andrei Tarkovsky | 159 mins | TV | PG / PG

I don’t know if you’re aware of a website, dear reader, called iCheckMovies.com? It’s one of those (many, I believe) sites where you can tick off which movies you’ve seen — in this case, not just any movie (though that’s changing ‘soon’), but movies from certain well-known lists. Well, it used to be just well-known(-ish) lists, but it’s constantly broadening its horizons and… Anyway. My point is this: some movies only crop up on one list (lots of the Shorts, for instance), while others manage two or three or four, but (as you’d no doubt expect) some crop up on loads. It’s a handy way to see that, too.

Solaris, for instance, is on IMDb’s list of the best sci-fi films (#39) and films from the ’70s (#43); it’s on They Shoot Pictures…’s 1,000 Greatest Films (#227), Empire’s 500 Greatest Movies (#285), 10th on Total Sci-Fi’s 100 Greatest Sci-Fi Movies, 53rd on Arts and Faith’s 100 Spiritually Significant Films, and included in Roger Ebert’s Great Movies; not to mention half a dozen other general greatest/must-see lists featured on iCheckMovies.

What does all that matter? Not a great deal, I suppose — film appreciation is subjective ‘n’ all — but it does leave it with a weight of expectation. The fact that it’s the better part of three hours long, in Russian, and notoriously slow-paced, adds a different kind of weight. It’s quite easy to see how Soderbergh felt able to remake it into just 90 minutes (and he still made a slow-paced film).

And it’s true, parts are like an endurance test — Berton’s seemingly endless drive through a future cityscape (actually just ’70s Tokyo), for instance — but, though still glacially paced, most of the film has some discernibly relevant content. Provided you’re not expecting Star Wars, that is, but who in their right mind would be? Talking of things being discernibly relevant, the film occasionally switches into black & white for no reason I can readily discern. Explanations welcome in the comments.

Though ostensibly science fiction — it’s set on a space station orbiting a possibly sentient planet that’s doing Funny Things to the crew — Solaris isn’t concerned with the scientific implications of any of its concepts. While I’m going to come up short on providing detailed analysis, it seems to me Tarkovsky’s adaptation is more concerned with memory, loss, grief and what it means to be human/alive. The planet, which somehow creates tangible people — not mere shared hallucinations — from the memories of the crew, is used as a way in to these things Tarkovsky clearly wishes to consider. The sentient(?) planet is not an end in itself; the film spends no time considering what this different kind of consciousness (if it is a consciousness) means, how it might work, or any other scientifically-bent notions that other films or filmmakers might choose to focus on. It also doesn’t centre on the romantic side of events, the route Soderbergh chose to pursue; or, if it does, it does so coldly and clinically and doesn’t feel romantic in the slightest. Alternatively, that could be the point.

Solaris is one of those films I think we can safely say is Not For Everyone. There’s much to ponder for the so inclined, not least the intriguing ending. I feel certain I, much like the scientists in the film itself, have barely scratched the surface.

Read my considerably more thoughtful (if I do say so myself) review of Steven Soderbergh’s remake here.

The History Boys (2006)

Posted on December 4, 2010 by badblokebob

It’s now December (I expect you’ve noticed), which means 2010 is almost at an end. Once again, I find myself with a number of unposted reviews. Unlike last year, however, the majority of them are actually written. To help reduce the number leftover to post in 2011, I’m going to be a little more intensive than usual and post one a day for at least the next week (ish).

Just in case you were interested.

2010 #94
Nicholas Hytner | 108 mins | TV (HD) | 15 / R

Nicholas Hytner’s film of Alan Bennett’s play, about a group of unlikely ’80s grammar school boys trying out for Oxbridge, sticks with a Bennett screenplay and the original West End/Broadway cast. However, it succeeds in not being very stagey — to the credit of Bennett’s screen adaptation and Hytner’s direction, I should imagine.

All of the cast are very good. Some roles are rather small — eight boys is, perhaps, too many; though Russell Tovey, for instance, still manages to stand out with his subplot. Dominic Cooper and Samuel Barnett get the biggest parts among the boys and do well with them, the latter justly rewarded with a variety of Supporting Actor nominations. Richard Griffiths hits just the right note as Hector, the homosexual/paedophiliac old teacher, balancing his daftness, intelligence and seedier side with skill.

The History Boys isn’t really about what it’s about — the boys applying for Oxbridge is shoved into a corner almost as soon as it’s introduced — but is instead about their learning, and their experience gained while (and from) learning, and a bit about growing up and discovering oneself too. Many films “aren’t about what they’re about”, but this one is strikingly so: aside from the opening where it’s established, and a couple of brief scenes near the end showing exams, interviews and results, the quest to get into Oxbridge is only afforded fleeting mentions in and around observing the content of the boys’ lessons. For all this worthy content, it must also be noted that it’s often very funny.

I said it wasn’t stagey. That’s not entirely true: the exception is the finale, which in both execution and dialogue feels incredibly Theatrical. But it’s a nice idea — much better than a half dozen “what happened next” screens of text — and I wouldn’t want to lose something so effective. It also succinctly reminds us that, though this story is over, lives go on.

Some may find the future outcome Bennett affords some of his characters troubling, however: the tone with which they’re delivered implies it all turned out OK; the content suggests we shouldn’t be so accepting. Such a moral conundrum (if it can in fact be considered one) only supports the film’s more realistic tone and themes.

Total Recall (1990)

Posted on December 3, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #77
Paul Verhoeven | 108 mins | TV (HD) | 18 / R

Post Inception, it feels like we should be seeing a revival of interest in all things Total Recall, concerned as it is with dreams, fake memories, and what’s real and what isn’t. On the other hand, aside from an ambiguity about whether the lead character is dreaming or not — which adds texture but, arguably, is unimportant to the film’s primary thrills — there’s not that much to read into it.

For me, the joy of Total Recall is in discovering another ’80s blockbuster (ignore the fact it was released in 1990), the kind of thing I grew up watching on rented videos and BBC One Bank Holiday schedules; films like the Indiana Joneses, Back to the Future, Ghostbusters, Burton’s Batman, and all the rest (I feel I’ve used these examples before; I must have some others), whose practical effects and general style and tone — not a conscious effort by these filmmakers, I’m sure, but instead just How Hollywood Films Were Then — vividly recalls that era for me; films that at the time were, to my young eyes and understanding, enduring classics of cinema that had always existed… despite the fact most were just a few years old.

I suspect it’s for this reason that my top note on Total Recall is “fantastic effects”. But, still, they are; from the wide shots of a Martian landscape and its complex of buildings, to the mutants, disguises, and blood ‘n’ gore. That it all becomes slightly cartoony — albeit the nastiest, gruesomest cartoon (apart from, y’know, some of That Japanese Stuff) — just adds to the charm. Similarly, a lot of the ‘science’ is utterly implausible or impossible — which, depending on your point of view, either supports the “it was all a dream” reading or is just a case of artistic licence, hardly uncommon in SF cinema.

Also very much ‘of the era’ is the star, Arnold Schwarzenegger (as if you needed telling). He really isn’t cut out for any role more demanding than the Terminator, though his laboured delivery and awkward presence injects a certain amateurish, humorous charm to any scene he’s in — ergo, much of the film. Conversely, Michael Ironside makes an excellent villain. Though his death is suitably dramatic, it’s a shame he’s not The Big Bad Guy — the film follows the blockbuster rule of dispatching villains in order of importance well enough, but Ronny Cox doesn’t come close to the commanding presence required to create a memorable villain in such little screen time. It leaves the viewer longing for Ironside to be featured during the final climax instead of Cox’s limp boss.

I suppose Total Recall endures in that way successful films do, because they provide a point of shared cultural awareness. I feel its influence has diminished with time — this is entirely subjective, but it doesn’t seem to come up as much as it used to — and presumably will continue to do so, as its not-unjustified absence from Best Of lists means fewer new viewers come to it and so its cultural cachet diminishes. Perhaps it’s ultimately destined for an afterlife as a film representative of its era; the kind of thing that comes up as a footnote or personal favourite in texts & documentaries specifically discussing things like The Sci-fi Cinema of the ’90s. Or perhaps I’m doing it a disservice. We shouldn’t really try to predict these things too much, it’ll only lead to embarrassment when the opposite happens.

So, Total Recall. Good fun. Quite funny. Bit gory. I liked the effects.

Total Recall is on Syfy (UK) tonight, Monday 10th November 2014, at 9pm.

Panic in the Streets (1950)

Posted on November 28, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #71
Elia Kazan | 92 mins | TV (HD) | PG

Film noir is a pretty unspecific genre, or unconscious movement, only really defined (however loosely) once it was already over. So to say a film noir isn’t particularly film noir-y might seem a tad daft, but, Panic in the Streets isn’t a particularly film noir-y film noir.

That’s not a problem, just an observation. There’s still a criminal underworld, a (slightly) downtrodden hero, criminal wrongdoings, some shadow-drenched photography, and a smattering of other traits that do place it within the genre, but it’s not a textbook example.

Its story is the methodical investigation of a potential plague outbreak in a hot, sweaty New Orleans, the latter often strikingly evoked. There are some good scenes — the discovery of the infection through to the immediate dealings with it; some of the villains’ sequences — but I’m not convinced by how it hangs together as a whole. Our heroes do have to go to some lengths in their battle to contain the outbreak and find its source, but it also seems relatively easily contained and kept out of the press. And when the dreaded happens and the papers do run the story, it doesn’t seem to affect much at all.

The cast are good, particularly Richard Widmark as Clint, the family man whose job seems under-appreciated and who longs for a bigger break. Is an outbreak his chance? He doesn’t approach it that way — he’s too busy getting the police to see sense, and managing his wife’s expectations and desires. Lead villain Jack Palance has a beautifully bad-guy-friendly skull-like face, with his jutting cheek bones and flat-ended nose. (I imagine I’m far from the first to make this observation, but hush.)

The investigation is at times almost a straight procedural, for which you’ll find no complaints from me — there’s something inherently satisfying about a very precise, focused procedural, such as Anatomy of a Murder — but Kazan and screenwriter Richard Murphy cut through this with Clint’s home life and unorthodox investigative methods. The balance between investigation and Clint’s family issues is quite well maintained for most of the film, and admirably doesn’t dive for a pat resolve on the latter, but the home life subplot ultimately lacks any kind of significant resolution, leaving its various elements aimlessly hanging.

Some hail Panic in the Streets as a five-star classic, but the problems I mention mean it falls short of that for me. I don’t want my negatives and four-stars to come across as damning with faint praise, though: it’s still an engrossing thriller with much to recommend.

Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie (1996)

Posted on November 25, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #97
Jim Mallon | 74 mins | DVD | PG / PG-13

I’m not that well versed in the cult fandom of Mystery Science Theater 3000 but, as I understand it, Turkey Day (i.e. Thanksgiving) is the MSTie (as fans call themselves) High Holy Day (I’m presuming not literally, but who knows?) Something to do with Thanksgiving marathons on whichever network MST3K was on at the time, I think.

Anyway, with that in mind, what better day to finally post my review of MST3K’s big screen endeavour than on that beloved American holiday.

The world, so they say (and by “they” I mean “absolutely no one” — I’m making this up), is divided into three sorts of people: those who love MST3K, those who’ve never heard of MST3K, and those who have a vague notion of what it is but have, for whatever reason, never seen any of it. (Of course, there will be that fourth group who don’t like it, but my saying’s already stretched at three. This is why I said “they say”, y’see, to absolve me of responsibility for the glaring oversight. But anyway…) I fall into the latter category. Having bought sci-fi mags for the past decade or so (thereby overlapping with the time MST3K was actually in production) I naturally have an idea what it is, but had never actually seen any of it… (you know what’s coming…) (wait for it…) …until now.

For those who’ve never heard of MST3K, it’s a bit like a DVD commentary… except instead of people involved with the film recounting anecdotes or academics offering analysis, we have people taking the piss out of it. I say “people” — one person and two robots. Who are obviously voiced by people. Look, that’s not the point. The movies they watch are all cheaply-made rubbish ones, well deserving of having the mickey taken (not to mention the all important fact that such efforts are generally copyright-free). The bloke and two robots appear on screen at the bottom as silhouettes, because… well, there’s no real need for it, other than to remind you they’re there and remove the issue of disembodied voices. The series started before DVD, remember, so the notion of an “audio commentary” wasn’t yet widely known. Besides which, I quite like seeing them there. OK, they don’t do much besides wiggle their heads or arms occasionally, but it feels more congenial than the disembodied chatter of an audio commentary.

Anyway, the gang set their sights on one film per episode — or, in this feature film, one film per film. They’re being forced to watch these movies, for various unimportant reasons, and every once in a while we get comedic ‘host segments’, where they get up to hijinks on their space station (I forgot to mention, they live on a space station). These bits are well-meaning and quite funny — and in this big screen outing have been shot with a suitably filmic gloss that the video-shot TV episodes lack, which adds a surprising magnitude to the still-small-and-cheap sets and props — but the real meat of the humour is in the riffing over the film.

In this film, the film is This Island Earth, Joseph M. Newman’s 1955 sci-fi… film (“2½ years in the making!”). “Classic” wouldn’t be the word, though MST3K: The Movie provoked some controversy among some film critics because they considered This Island Earth to be an SF classic, one that didn’t merit the derogation that MST3K usually lavishes on B- (or lower letters) movies. On the evidence of what we see here (not, it should be noted, the full film, which runs a quarter-hour longer than MST3K: The Movie; including those host segments, quite a lot must be lost), This Island Earth is perhaps of higher quality than some of the films tackled by MST3K, but is clearly a cheap effort and no classic.

Talking of things being shortened (I was, in the brackets), MST3K: The Movie is, unusually, a good fifteen minutes shorter than a regular episode of the series. There are reasons — partly to do with helping mainstream appeal, more necessary on the big screen than a minor cable network, and not wanting to outstay their welcome. Similarly, the jokes feature fewer obscure references than on TV and they’re more spaced out, to make sure people catch them (when laughing as part of a large audience, you see). This latter fact means that when the film is watched by yourself the gags can be more spread out than might be desirable, which is a shame. This improves as it goes on though — clearly most of what got lopped out of This Island Earth was cut from later on, and as the film they’re watching becomes harder to follow so we’re compensated with more laughs.

The quality of the humour varies, as is the case with so many comedies. For me, there were enough laugh-out-loud moments and significant chuckles to make it a good experience; equally, there were also a couple of fart-related gags, something I’ve never found funny personally. There are some current affairs-related references that not so much date the film as lose their currency as time wears on (this is 14 years old now after all), as well as culturally specific jokes that don’t carry across the pond. Such occurrences are an inevitably of this kind of humour, I think, and they’re not too prevalent to destroy the experience. That experience is very much like watching a movie with some mates when you’re in the mindset to take the piss out of the film. That is, if you get on with the characters (as it were) and sync with their sense of humour; if you dislike them or their humour, or like whatever they’re watching too much, then it’s probably more like some irritating yobs nattering away over something you’d quite like to watch thank you very much. (Equally, if you embark on this intending to watch This Island Earth, more fool you.)

MST3K: The Movie was disliked by the production team — too much studio interference during production left it an unpleasant experience. Tales of this pepper the web, if you want to go looking, but they include the studio forcing a story arc on the film, before conducting test screenings (to completely the wrong audience) which concluded they should cut out the resolution to said enforced story arc. Or the stupid release pattern, which failed so badly it’s never been repeated. MSTies have a more mixed response, as far as I can tell, but a significant number like it, particularly those for who it was their first experience of MST3K.

And that’s me, as you may remember. I can see that not everyone will like MST3K — the concept won’t appeal, or the style of humour won’t tickle some funnybones. But if the concept does appeal, the only way to tell is to try. Personally, I can’t wait to get stuck into more of the series. I believe there’s almost 200 episodes…

It Happened Here (1966)

Posted on November 23, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #98
Kevin Brownlow & Andrew Mollo | 96 mins | DVD | PG

Alternate histories are always fun, and nothing seems to have provoked more than the Second World War. Which, as a defining event in modern history for a good chunk of the world, is understandable. It Happened Here is perhaps one of the earliest examples, depicting a 1940s Britain under Nazi occupation.

Co-directors Brownlow and Mollo use a dramatic narrative, as opposed to faux-documentary, to show off their vision of an occupied Britain. They shoot it in grainy, handheld black-and-white with a rough-round-the-edges feel that gives it the air of documentary even when it’s undoubtedly scripted and performed. How much this is deliberate and how much an accident of circumstance, I don’t know — they were both young, amateur filmmakers at the time, working on a small budget; United Artists spent more on the US trailer than was spent on the entire film. Whatever the cause, it works, because they’re also not trying and failing to convince us this is a documentary, simply employing the visual cues which help sell their history as real. Using a dramatic narrative also gives the viewer an identifiable character, nurse Pauline, which works nicely by drawing us into the story’s world, helping us feel and relate to the compromises and sacrifices that have to be made — and, as the film forces us to realise, would be made — under such circumstances.

Pauline is apolitical, which for the sake of the film means she can get buffeted around, seeing many facets of occupied life. She’s drawn into the regime without losing our sympathy, but when she legitimately disagrees with it she’s shoved out of the way to a country hospital — which allows us to see another aspect; namely, the quiet but methodical enacting of The Final Solution in an occupied territory. The whole film builds to this point, gradually showing the darker and deeper levels of cooperation — which starts out almost harmless and ends with organised mass murder — meaning it never feels like Brownlow and Mollo are pushing an agenda too hard, but still confront us with the reality: that we’d probably succumb too, and this is where we’d end up.

The film is distinctly anti-Nazi, then, though not without its controversies in spite of this. At one point, real fascists play themselves. I think you can tell, because I suspected as much before I looked it up to see: they’re not great actors, but they deliver their horrific polemics with a calm zeal. The argument that this merely gives some hateful people a platform for their views isn’t without merit — they’re certainly given a good chunk of time to discuss them — but it’s an ultimately effective sequence. Other characters ask questions — or perhaps other cast members do, because, knowing the fascists are real, it becomes hard to tell if it’s all scripted and in character or just a real-life Q&A that Brownlow & Mollo filmed. Either way, it works because any right-minded person is going to see the inherent ridiculousness of their views with ease.

Another controversy arose over the villains being British collaborators — few German Nazis are seen — and the ease with which many agreed. But this is based in the facts of what occurred in other occupied territories; maybe Britain’s plucky spirit would’ve shown through, as many like to believe, or maybe many would have caved for the easier life — or, indeed, life at all. The film is examining several perspectives of occupation, and using the fictional context to good effect: this could have happened, the film says, however much we like to believe we wouldn’t have collaborated like (and/or resisted better than), say, the French.

Talking of the resistance, I presume the controversy didn’t stop with its depiction of collaborators: both sides are shown to be just as/almost as bad as the other. The film opens with occupying Nazis massacring women and children, including a hurried and confusing gunfight in which it’s unclear whether Pauline’s friends — all women and children — were slaughtered by the Nazis or a group of resistance fighters holed up nearby. Mirroring this, the film ends with a group of British resistance (and/or invading American and British troops) rounding up surrendered collaborators and gunning them down in cold blood. No one comes out of this well — and that is perhaps the most truthful part of all.

Nonetheless, It Happened Here is more anti-Nazi than pro-Nazi propaganda, in my opinion, though it’s easy to see why any material critical of the Allies could have outweighed the overall bias when the film was first released, just 20 years after victory in Europe. Generally, and viewed from a much more removed perspective, Brownlow and Mollo do a good job of offering conflicting perspectives with minimal comment, allowing the viewer to decide how ridiculous certain newsreels or opinions are, or how weak or misguided characters may or may not be — on both sides.

Born Free (1966)

Posted on November 12, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #109
James Hill | 91 mins | TV | U / PG

Born Free tells the true story of Joy and George Adamson, a Senior Game Warden in 1950s Kenya, who adopted three lion cubs after mistakenly killing their mother. Though they give two away to a zoo, Joy can’t bear to part with one, Elsa, and so they raise her — until circumstances force them to part with her. Despite Elsa’s age, Joy insists they try to release her into the wild rather than send her to a zoo.

Though obviously scripted, acted and directed as a drama, the film nonetheless often plays like a documentary. Partly this is because it’s based on a true story, so (allowing for dramatic licence) we know it happened, emphasised by an occasionally episodic narrative and Joy’s voiceover narration; and partly because the plentiful wildlife footage is real. The film benefits in this respect from being made in an era before animatronics or CGI could be used to have the animals do whatever the filmmakers wanted. It makes the storytelling that much more impressive and complements the ‘true story’ angle.

I don’t know how trained the lions used were, but all their actions come across as entirely naturalistic, be it playing early on or attempting to fit into the wild later. It’s easy to see why this is a classic for animal lovers: the constantly playful cubs are are delight, the affectionate older Elsa endearing, the attempts to release her ethologically engaging… Then there are the other animals, including elephants (always wonderful) and the Adamsons’ adorable pet… rodent… (look, I’m no expert.) Best of all is a head-butting warthog, who has instantly become my favourite film animal. The entire film was worth that sequence.

It might be kindest to say the script and acting are often “of their era”, the plummy British accents appropriate but also instantly dating. Not that it matters a jot, because the film isn’t really about the people, it’s about the animals they look after and peripherally how the humans’ lives impact on that care. Those that don’t give a monkeys about wildlife films may wish to subtract a star (or three); for everyone else, it’s delightful.

Tomorrow, my thoughts on the sequel, Living Free.

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