Throne of Blood (1957)

Posted on May 29, 2008 by badblokebob

aka Kumonosu jô

2008 #33
Akira Kurosawa | 105 mins | DVD | PG or 12

Kurosawa moves Macbeth from Scotland to 16th Century Japan in this retelling of Shakespeare’s infamous Scottish Play. I’ve heard this described as a loose adaptation — perhaps those reviewers have never read the play. Kurosawa sticks very closely to the structure of Shakespeare’s version of the story (though based on real events, Shakespeare changed key details), often choosing to adapt it scene-for-scene. It works well in the new setting, with some of the themes — honour, respect, betrayal — perhaps becoming more understandable when placed in samurai culture. Kurosawa changes other elements too — character names are understandably localised, there’s only one witch, there’s no version of the famous “Is this a dagger which I see before me?” monologue, and so on. It’s not all omissions however, as Kurosawa adds imagery and symbolism of his own. Again this helps to place the story in its new context, but also covers the loss of Shakespeare’s original language (a major sticking point for some critics).

Beyond the Shakespearean similarities (or lack of), there’s much to see in Throne of Blood — literally, thanks to the atmospheric cinematography. Most of the exteriors are doused in fog, and while this is sometimes over-done (an extended sequence of Washizu and Miki riding in and out of it goes on too long) it also makes for some amazing moments, such as when the trees of Cobweb Forest drift menacingly forward. The interior of the forest is suitably oppressive and scary too, the perfect location for encountering a witch. Kurosawa was inspired by Japanese Noh theatre in his construction of the film, so there are a lot of longer shots that allow the characters to be blocked as if on stage. It’s not overly theatrical, thankfully, and works suitably.

Cinematic techniques are not entirely abandoned however. The most memorable is the banquet scene, in which Washizu sees Miki’s ghost: we see Miki’s empty seat, the camera tracks forward to a shocked Washizu, then back to reveal the ghost of Miki sat at his place, before tracking and panning around the room to follow Mifune’s brilliant performance. It’s an infinitely more effective reveal than any amount of jiggery pokery with dissolves or CGI could provide. Similarly, Washizu’s iconic death scene — in which hundreds of arrows puncture him and the surrounding walls — is impressively achieved (using real arrows), including one seamless shot when an arrow pierces his neck.

Macbeth is my favourite Shakespeare play — it’s a great story, with great themes, imagery and language. Throne of Blood obviously loses some of this, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest — Kurosawa has constructed an excellent and well-conceived retelling with a few of his own flourishes.

A note on the classification: the UK DVD from the BFI is rated PG, classified in 1991. A few months after the DVD’s release in 2001, the film was re-submitted to the BBFC and received a 12. Quite way the rating was raised isn’t explained, and copies of the DVD still bear a PG on the cover.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)

Posted on May 27, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #32
Steven Spielberg | 122 mins | cinema | 12A / PG-13

This review contains major spoilers.
For a spoiler-free view, see my initial thoughts.

I’ve grown up with Indiana Jones around. Not in the way Harry Knowles may have (apparently if you weren’t old enough to see the original trilogy in the cinema, at precisely the right age, then this film isn’t for you), but they’ve always been there. I was so young when I first saw Last Crusade (on video) that, even though it can only have been two years old at most, it was a film that had Always Existed as far as I was concerned (much like Ghostbusters and Back to the Future, or so many other ’80s movies that I love). I remember directing a recreation of Last Crusade in the playground (with me as Indy, of course, and one of my best friends hating me for days because he’d been Brody and I’d melted him at the end, my 6-year-old memory having confused the character with Donovan); loving Young Indiana Jones whenever they showed it on BBC Two; visiting the absolutely fantastic stunt show at DisneyWorld Florida; churning through a couple of the tie-in novels (carefully selected from the gift shop based on their blurbs); having the Raiders poster on my door for at least a decade; running around with my Indy hat and Nazi cap gun (wow, we must’ve bought a lot in that gift shop); wishing there were action figures for me to play with (and appropriating an Alan Grant from Jurassic Park for the task, because he had a vaguely similar hat)… There are many more Indy memories locked away in my head, but I think those examples will more than suffice.

And so, about 17 years or so since I first encountered Dr Henry Jones Jr, I finally get to see him in the cinema. I don’t think I’m one to be easily suckered in by that thrill factor, however. I wasn’t one of the people who came out of Phantom Menace extolling it’s virtues only to later realise how disappointing it was; heck, I came out of Two Towers not with the feeling that after a whole year (wow!) of waiting Lord of the Rings was back and wasn’t it great — I thought it dragged for at least the first half and found Helm’s Deep somehow anticlimactic. I say this in defence of the fact that I enjoyed Crystal Skull and think it’s a good film, an opinion that seems oddly rare at the minute. I suspect this will change with time.

That’s not to say the film isn’t flawed, mind. The opening’s a bit slow for my liking, there are few lines that are as funny or as quotable as in the other films, and some moments push things a bit too far — I’m thinking specifically of Indy escaping a nuclear test in a lead-lined fridge. It’s not as bad as Bond surfing the wave from a melting ice shelf in Die Another Day, but it’s not really in-keeping either. Another oft-cited problem is the amount of material the film awards to some of its starry cast members. Actors of the calibre of John Hurt, Jim Broadbent and… well, most people say Ray Winstone, but I think he’s overrated as an actor… still, they don’t get a great deal to do. The problem here is that they’re John Hurt, Jim Broadbent and Ray Winstone — replace them with unknowns and far fewer people would whinge about the size and point of their roles. Quite why an actor like John Hurt would accept such a small, almost one-note role (while there may be more depth to the character, it’s all revealed in Mutt’s memories rather than Hurt’s performance) is a different issue, but he does play the part well.

The rest of the cast fare better: Shia LaBeouf continues to be a star on the rise, here blessed with a teen rebel who isn’t also incredibly irritating. Mutt has a heart, and we don’t have to suffer a two-hour ‘emotional journey’ to find it. He pairs well with Harrison Ford too, and one can see why George Lucas suggests a future for the franchise that emulates the father-son dynamic from Last Crusade. That said, Ford gets his best partner in Karen Allen’s Marion. She was always the best ‘Indy girl’, and while her return may be as surprising as Indy wearing that hat and carrying a whip (not just because we’ve seen her in all the trailers, but who else is it going to be when Mutt first mentions a Marion in the diner?) she plays a vital role in injecting some verbal humour and banter into proceedings. The only other noteworthy female cast member is Cate Blanchett as a villainous Russian psychic (maybe). She’s clearly having bags of fun with the part, and is rewarded primarily with a death scene that is pleasingly in line with those in the rest of the series. This is another moment some reviewers have whined about, saying we’ve seen it before, but personally I’d’ve been disappointed with anything less from an Indy film.

Of course, this is all without really mentioning the man himself. Make no mistake, Harrison Ford is still Indiana Jones. The hair may be grey, the face covered in more lines, but the attitude and humour is still there. This is an older Indy, of course — he’s not only aged nearly two decades since we last encountered him, he’s also lived through the Second World War. The snippets of dialogue that explain what he’s been up to since we last saw him are all very nice for fans too, I think, but are pleasingly not dwelt upon for too long — this is a film that will work just fine for anyone who somehow hasn’t seen the first three. Ford can still hold his own in the action stakes too, running, swinging and punching his way through a variety of thrilling sequences. The screenplay could have used his age as a crutch, leaving him with some comedy running away while the much younger Mutt got stuck in; this isn’t the case, and that’s great.

As for those action sequences, they’re a lot of fun. The best by far is an extended chase through the jungle, including a fantastically conceived sword fight on the back of two moving vehicles. There’s a good deal of silliness in it — Mutt’s Tarzan-like vine swinging, or Marion’s use of a handily-placed tree to get their car into a river — but this is a franchise explicitly inspired by the B-movie thrills of the ’30s, ’40s and ’50s, in which context these things are more than acceptable. It’s a little daft, but it’s all such fun that if you’re worrying about the realism you’re not entering into the spirit of things. More disappointing is some lacklustre CGI, which is used far more often than Spielberg might have liked us to believe. There’s also a bit with some large ants that may be a little too close to the use of beetles in The Mummy, but as that’s basically an Indiana Jones rip-off it seems only fair to return the favour.

Finally, there’s the MacGuffin: the eponymous Crystal Skull (the “Kingdom of the” prefix isn’t really needed). It’s alien, as long-rumoured, which has undoubtedly angered some fans. Personally, I don’t find it any sillier than the Ark of the Covenant or the Holy Grail, equally unreal items (in fact, less real — maybe the aliens are too likely to be true for some viewers?) with equally fantastical powers. It also fits with the mid-50s setting, post-Roswell and heading into the Space Race. The design of the aliens and their saucer is pleasingly retro, though obviously achieved with CGI, and it does tie to theories that ancient monuments and civilisations had contact with aliens (again, true or not, they’re no worse than the religious artefacts of the other films). Like everything else about the film, the MacGuffin may not be quite as good as the equivalent elements in Raiders and Last Crusade, but it pushes close enough.

Speaking of which, it’s worth quickly mentioning the UK rating. For some reason, Crystal Skull is a 12A while Raiders and Last Crusade are both only PG. I swear there’s nothing worse in this film than those; in fact, I’m sure there’s nothing here that’s as likely to be traumatising for youngsters as Donovan melting at the end of the third film. I expect it says more about our variable rating system than it does about the films themselves, but in the unlikely event anyone reading this is wondering about its suitability for a younger audience, there’s my thoughts.

As I mentioned earlier, reaction to the film, both from critics and the general viewing audience, has been somewhat mixed. It seems plenty of fans have left their rose-tinted glasses with their DVD box set and viewed Crystal Skull with the all-too-critical eye of one who isn’t aware they don said goggles to watch the older films. Crystal Skull is a suitable return to the Indiana Jones series — full of fun and excitement, and a good chance to be reacquainted with old friends. It can’t beat Raiders because that came first, automatically embedding itself as the best in the minds of many; and it can’t beat Last Crusade, partly because it lacks the wonderful dynamic between Harrison Ford and Sean Connery, and partly because I just love that film. But, crucially, it is in the same league as them, and that’s fine by me.

My initial reactions to Kingdom of the Crystal Skull can be read here.

Iron Man (2008)

Posted on May 25, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #31
Jon Favreau | 126 mins | cinema | 12A / PG-13

This review contains spoilers.

“Iron Man, Iron Man, does whatever an iron can. Flattens clothes, nice and smooth; burns a hole if he doesn’t move. Look out! Here comes the Iron Man!”

OK, maybe not…

Irritating ‘humorous’ review intros aside, Iron Man has never been at the forefront of my comics experience. X-Men and Batman, yes yes yes; a few of Alan Moore’s, of course; a solid stab at getting through Preacher; occasional diversions into Spider-Man or Ghost Rider… But never Iron Man (or a slew of others, but they don’t have a surprisingly successful movie currently in cinemas). Whilst he’s obviously a popular character with fans, the film’s phenomenal success — both financially and critically — has rather taken me by surprise, and consequently dragged me to the cinema for the first time in over 10 months.

Tony Stark is, perhaps, Marvel’s answer to Bruce Wayne: the billionaire playboy CEO of a huge technology company who uses his technological know-how to become a superhero in the wake of personal tragedy — but in Stark’s case the company is an amoral weapons manufacturer and the playboy lifestyle isn’t just a front. What this means for the viewer is that, in the title role, Robert Downey Jr gets to shine. He has all the best lines and comedic moments (of which there are plenty) and a couple of cool action bits too (of which there are few). As he’s the hero this would seem just, but you only have to look at earlier entries in the Batman franchise to see how the hero can be sidelined for the villain. Elsewhere in the cast, Gwyneth Paltrow brings humanity to proceedings as the improbably named Pepper Potts, whose biggest flaw is that the filmmakers refuse to have anyone make a joke about her name. Not even one! Jeff Bridges gives a suitably dastardly performance as the eventual villain, but the plot woefully underuses him.

Because this is an origin story, you see, and sadly falls into most of the typical origin story traps: the ‘major’ villain exists only to provide a final act punch-up while the rest of the film explores how Ordinary Man (or Ordinary Rich Man in this case) gained Super Powers (or Built Super Suit) and went on to Save Mankind (or Save Some Foreigners, but I’ll leave deeper debates over the film’s dubious international perspective to others). It used to be the case that superheroes arrived on the screen ready to go — look at Burton’s original Batman, for example — but since the genre’s ’00s revival it’s all about the origins. What this typically means is a decent-enough first film that serves only to introduce the characters for the sake of a fully-formed second entry. One can only hope this will be the case with Iron Man.

The primary exception to this rule is Batman Begins, which succeeds because it’s less about the origin story and more an exploration of Batman’s psychology in general, something only vaguely alluded to in preceding efforts. Where Iron Man falters on this score is in completing Stark’s move from uncaring weapons manufacturer to socially conscious hero relatively early on, from which point he spends ages building his suit and battling, not an evil villain, but off-screen corporate machinations. The final fight, when it arrives, lacks punch (literally) and is over too soon. The amount of time, depth and humour awarded to the characters is to be applauded, but it comes at the expense of some excitement. At least it makes a change, as it’s thoroughly unusual to find the balance skewed that way.

To touch on an exceedingly minor element, the fan-pleasing post-credits scene with Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury is quite disappointing. While it’s cool to see Jackson as Fury, and a nice lead for the now-confirmed Avengers movie (which will come after Iron Man 2, so you have to wonder why the scene is at the end of this film), it’s too brief. When Fury informs Stark he’s not the only superhero in the world it provides a mixed reaction: on the one hand, we’re all too aware that from the Marvel Universe we’ve had three X-Mens, three Spider-Mans, a Daredevil, an Elektra, a Hulk (and soon another), a Punisher, and even a Ghost Rider — if they all take place in the same filmic universe then Stark ought to have noticed at least a couple of them on the news! And if they’re not in the same universe, one wonders if the cast of The Avengers movie will be padded with second-string heroes who barely warrant their own film. But that’s a debate for another review (one in three years’ time, in fact).

This may all sound a tad harsh on Iron Man, but when a film receives near unrelenting praise from most quarters it’s hard not to spy the faults when coming to it late. What it most resembles is a great TV pilot: at the end you enjoyed what you just saw, but your thoughts lie with what’s to come — “that’s the setup, now what will they do?” Hopefully Iron Man 2, due in two years, can take the many positive elements and run with them.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)

Posted on May 21, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #30
Tim Burton | 112 mins | DVD | 18 / R

Tim Burton and Johnny Depp collaborate for the sixth time (as the DVD’s blurb is so keen to point out) for a film adaptation of Stephen Sondheim’s musical adaptation of the classic tale of the titular barber who slaughters instead of shaves and sells the resultant meat to all of London in the pies of his accomplice, Mrs Lovett.

As with 2005’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the announcement of Burton as director of Sweeney Todd was one of those “well, of course” moments, despite the vastly different audiences. And with Burton come Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, naturally. But whereas the eventual product of Charlie resulted in a “that’s that done then” feeling of the inevitable, Sweeney is more of an unknown quantity for me — I’m familiar with the basic story, of course, but not this particular version. It’s a dark tale, but told here in a heavily stylised manner — no gritty realism to be found (for that try the Ray Winstone TV movie), but instead there’s bold and striking performances, design, direction, and storytelling. One is tempted to call it “theatrical”, but the direction is anything but and the actors do much more than project for the benefit of the back row. It’s anti-naturalistic in all elements, which suits both the ghoulish and musical subject matters perfectly, but is consequently not to everyone’s taste.

As for the musical elements, Sweeney is done in an operatic style — the majority of dialogue is sung and the story is almost entirely told through these songs, rather than having a couple of numbers peppered throughout (quite how they managed to edit a trailer that was both comprehensible and light on song is near miraculous). Anyone who’s seen an Andrew Lloyd Webber production will be familiar with this way of doing things. Personally, I find it a more immersive style — everyone’s singing from the word go, not disconcertingly launching into song a little way in. The cast’s voices may not be perfect (and I’m far from a knowledgeable judge), but they do the job more than adequately. Rough moments almost add to the film’s style, and the cast’s acting abilities more than make up for them anyway. One casting oddity is Anthony Head, who turns up for a sole inconsequential line. He may not be a regular film actor, but surely he’s bigger (and certainly better) than a glorified extra? He’s not even listed in the end credits. I smell deleted scenes… (A bit of IMDb reading reveals I’m right. Sadly, these aren’t included on the DVD.)

The other striking element of Sweeney Todd is its look. London here is a dingy monochrome metropolis, interrupted only by fanciful fairytale-coloured fantasies like the song By the Sea, and, of course, gallons of vibrant spurting blood. Wisely held off until relatively late in the film, when the blood comes it is all the more shocking. And from that point it flows like wine — or, more accurately, squirts like a stamped-on ketchup bottle — in perfectly judged amounts: it gushes far more than you’d normally see but, because Burton never pushes it to the mad excess that Tarantino did in Kill Bill, it remains on the disturbing side of believable. The stylised theatricality of it almost makes you question the high classifications, but the underlying morals and sheer bloody volume ultimately justify them.

Yet there’s something missing from Sweeney Todd. I can’t work out what it is — perhaps the numerous numbers Burton cut or trimmed have unbalanced proceedings slightly, in some frustratingly ephemeral way? — but despite all this praise and only vague criticisms, I’m certain it’s a four-star film. A very solid four, to be sure, but it doesn’t achieve enough to pass higher.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is on Channel 4 tonight, Saturday 9th August 2014, at 11:10pm.

Henry V (1989)

Posted on May 18, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #29
Kenneth Branagh | 132 mins | DVD | PG / PG-13

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, as I delve into a second version of Henry V in as many (viewing) days. (I dread to think how many reviews of this film began with a similar quote-based pun.) Inevitably, having watched them so close together, this is as much a comment on the relative merits of Branagh’s and Olivier’s interpretations of Henry V as it is a review of Branagh’s film in its own right.

Branagh’s version opens with almost a direct homage to Olivier’s, though with an important difference. Olivier opened with the Chorus’ narration on a stage ; Branagh opens with the Chorus’ narration on a film set. Rather than wasting half an hour with this conceit (as Olivier did), Branagh pushes into the ‘reality’ of the story before another actor has even entered. And his reality is much more real. The film looks as if it’s lit by candles and daylight, the castles and tavern are rough and dark, the battlefields muddy and grimy; everyone gets dirty and bloodied by the fights. On the whole it’s a grittier and more realistic version. Yet there’s room for more than that. The story still seems concluded at the Battle of Agincourt, but the proposal scene no longer feels tacked on. In fact it’s now laugh-out-loud hilarious, with Branagh and Emma Thompson demonstrating the undeniable chemistry that would help make Much Ado About Nothing so good a few years later. Unlike Olivier’s fluffy limp to the credits, this is an entertaining round-off to the plot.

The fact I’d never seen a version of Henry V before Olivier’s ostensibly gives Branagh’s the benefit of a better understanding on my part. Practically, it matters little that I saw Olivier’s first, as the more modern and film-friendly performances in Branagh’s version mean that, while Olivier’s allowed me to broadly follow the majority of what was happening, Branagh’s gives more access to the nuances of both plot and character. He’s aided in the latter by the inclusion of scenes deemed inappropriate for a World War 2 propaganda film: in one, Henry and co confront three traitors; in another, he hangs an old friend in order to make an example. Other scenes are played differently too, so that Branagh’s Henry is a more complex and morally debatable figure, unlike Olivier’s bright-eyed hero. Whatever your opinions on the two actors on the whole, these changes make for a better character and therefore a better film.

It would be remiss not to mention the rest of the cast. Brian Blessed is positively restrained as Exeter, one of Henry’s key associates — you’d never imagine he could turn in such a performance if you’d only seen his recent go at hosting Have I Got News For You. Paul Schofield, as the aging French King, and Michael Maloney, as the contemptible Dauphin, help flesh out the French side more than Olivier’s version managed, as does Christopher Ravenscroft’s Mountjoy, the French herald who all but switches his allegiance. The English ranks are swelled by Bilbo Baggins, Hagrid, and the current incarnations of ‘M’ and Batman (don’t worry, the French have Miss Marple); not to mention the recognisable faces of Richard Briers, Danny Webb, Simon Shepherd and John Sessions (and no doubt others I’ve accidentally missed). Of course, a starry and recognisable cast does not necessarily a good film make, but this is a dependable lot and there are good performances all round — even if Ian Holm’s Welsh accent is somewhat dubious (though it’s a lunar leap on from the one in Olivier’s version).

And deserving of a paragraph unto himself is Derek Jacobi’s masterful Chorus, who, with just a handful of narrational lines and a big black coat, is somehow one of the coolest characters I’ve seen of late.

There’s no contest here for me. Olivier’s version is an over-stylised, propaganda-inspired, outdated version of Shakespeare, whereas Branagh’s is a comprehensible, realistic, textured and, perhaps most importantly, genuinely enjoyable interpretation.

Henry V (1944)

Posted on May 16, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #28
Laurence Olivier | 131 mins | VHS | U

Or The Chronicle History of King Henry the Fift with His Battell Fought at Agincourt in France, as the title card (and therefore IMDb) would have it.

The works of Shakespeare tend to be a love-it-or-hate-it experience for most people, often based on one’s social class and/or experiences at school (obviously not exclusively). Just to be awkward, I’m going to say I have mixed feelings about his plays: on the one hand, I consistently enjoy Macbeth and find Much Ado About Nothing a diverting enough rom-com; on the other, I was bored by Richard III, even when played by Sir Ian McKellen, and never got on with A Midsummer Night’s Dream (to pick just two examples for each side). I imagine most people have their likes and dislikes of course, but I often feel I fall between the the dislike Normal people have for Shakespeare and the love that Cultured people have for him.

This may seem beside the point, but it does lead to Olivier’s Henry V. Simply put, I didn’t much care for it. It failed to engage me, and I’d put this down to Olivier’s infamous staging (literally) of it. The first half hour is a recreation of the play’s first performance in 1600, complete with fluffed sound cues and heckles from the crowd. The goings-on backstage and performer/crowd interactions heavily distract from the actual text being performed, as much as anything because they’re more entertaining. Then, cued by one of the Chorus’s lines, the film moves to showing the story in ‘reality’ — except this is a reality made of painted scenery, primary-coloured landscapes, and cardboard fairy castles. It’s a deliberate effect, designed to emulate pre-Renaissance painting, but it didn’t work for me — it’s over-stylised and distracting, and if you’re not familiar with the play (as I wasn’t) getting distracted is a problem. The concept of transition from performance to reality has potential (as would the idea of presenting the whole thing on stage with crowd interactions, actually, considering I missed them when they went), but I personally feel Olivier executed it poorly. For one thing, it spends too long bedding in the feel of the stage performance before it gets round to the shift to reality.

Stylised productions can work, and excellently, but here the direction and acting are sometimes as flat as the castles. Actors arbitrarily shout some lines, hush others, and put in emphasis of dubious relevance — it’s like Shakespeare-by-numbers, the sort of production that reveres the text so much it doesn’t bother to think about it. It hampers any understanding of what they’re saying, especially for newcomers. Perhaps more fairly, the performance style is incredibly stagey. My degree-related reading suggests this is one of the earliest proper Shakespeare films (previous adaptations being silent or even less complete), so perhaps the idea of a more subdued, screen-acting style had yet to permeate such productions. Things do pick up as the film goes on: the battles are effective, and the proposal scene is more comfortably performed than the pre-war politics. That said, the story seems to be over once Agincourt is won, so by modern structural standards the hasty single-scene romance that follows feels pointlessly tacked on.

Olivier’s Henry V has received plenty of praise in its time, as well as derision, largely for its conception as World War 2 propaganda. The latter is hard to ignore, with grand speeches delivered in a way reminiscent of Churchill’s and scenes removed so that Henry’s character becomes unquestionably good — both aspects that are distinctly less relevant to today’s more complex, war-dubious world. Even leaving the propaganda aside, the performances are outdated, the design several stylised steps too far, and on the whole the production failed to engage or hold my interest. However good it may once have seemed, I think this version has had its day.

Next I’ll be reviewing Kenneth Branagh’s all-star 1989 version of Henry V, here.

Vantage Point (2008)

Posted on May 14, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #27
Pete Travis | 86 mins | download | 12A / PG-13

Vantage Point is nothing like Rashomon.

I don’t imagine you’ve missed the endless comparisons — every review seems to have them, IMDb’s single-line plot description mentions it, the film itself certainly pretends to be like it, and I imagine even the pitch to the studio went, “well, it’s like this Japanese film…”. But, in fact, it’s nothing like it, and here’s why: Rashomon is about four people who tell completely different versions of the same events, some or all of which are therefore untrue; Vantage Point repeatedly shows the same events from different angles, revealing a sliver of new information each time. There are no lies and no real misdirection; none of the characters interpret what they see, we’re just shown it from where they were standing. Nonetheless, it’s a potentially interesting way to construct a thriller, but Vantage Point doesn’t exploit the concept’s full potential.

And then, halfway through, it gives up on it.

At first it seems like the filmmakers have simply lumped the gang of terrorists together as one character for the purpose of their perspective, an example of typically uninsightful American action-thriller ideology. But it soon becomes clear that, instead of continuing the perspective-shifting high concept of the first half, the rest of the story is going to play out like a normal thriller. And suddenly it’s a lot more entertaining, freed of pointless repetition and an irritating tendency to stop each story at an appropriately cliffhanging moment. If only the whole film had been constructed this way! Yes, it would have lost out on the odd mystery and some revelations wouldn’t have been so spread out, but continually retelling the story to pull this off seems a cheap trick anyway. Not that it matters, as most of the twists are blatantly obvious, and possibly the biggest of all was blown in the trailer — and is glossed over in the film as if they expected you to have seen it there.

Of course, the already slim running time would be reduced to the length of an American TV episode if they edited it chronologically, because there are plentiful repeated shots of speeches, explosions and crowds running, as well as the over-egged ‘rewind’ sequence each time the chronology is reset, a trick that’s as pandered to an inattentive brain-dead audience as ever you’ve seen. Another reason for employing this disjointed wannabe-Rashomon style is that the timelines probably don’t add up: some characters seem to squeeze an awful lot into a couple of minutes before their plot has to sync with someone else’s, while others presumably stand around doing nothing now and then.

Ultimately it’s the much-reported attempt to be ‘Rashomon-like’ that really scuppered Vantage Point for me. It only manages the multiple perspectives trick until halfway through, and even then it’s not especially well executed. The style has clearly been foisted upon it to mask a story that isn’t that original — the plot is a bit like half a season of 24 on speed — but it could have made passable enough entertainment for 90 minutes, especially as there are a couple of half decent action sequences. As a straightforward thriller it might not have been a great deal better, but it would have been less disappointing.

L.A. Confidential (1997)

Posted on May 12, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #26
Curtis Hanson | 132 mins | DVD | 18 / R

Once again I’m watching an adaptation shortly after plowing through the source novel, a situation that has so far proved awkward for giving films a fair assessment. L.A. Confidential is an especially tricky one: how does a 480-page, densely written, intricately plotted crime novel, spanning seven years and “no fewer than four and perhaps as many as a dozen major crimes”, translate into a two-and-a-quarter-hour film? With more than a few surprises, as it turns out, because the apparently minor changes near the film’s start turn out to be the proverbial pebble in a pond: their ripples spread so far that, by the second half, not even a reader who can remember the many details of the novel’s complex plot will know for sure what’s coming.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If screenwriters Hanson and Brian Helgeland had tried to squeeze in everything the movie would have been rushed even at three hours. Instead they’ve excised several unnecessary subplots and trimmed others to the bare minimum. Most impressively, they’ve picked apart several of the multitudinous plot threads and completely restructured them. It’s an incredible feat of adaptation. The downside is that some great strands are lost. Ed Exley’s father plays a huge role in the novel but is completely absent here; Inez Soto, the victim of a brutal gang rape, is reduced from a key supporting character to a couple of lines. Another connected loss is some characterisation. Jack Vincennes and Exley lose the most, though Bud White’s development is tied too closely to the main storyline. That said, the characters are still mostly there, painted quickly and precisely; they may lack some of the depth and complexity the novel can offer, but that’s an almost unavoidable difference between a film and a long, well-written novel. To make a good film such sacrifices are necessary — even though it’s been simplified, the novel’s complex plot is still a long way from becoming straightforward.

What impressed me most about L.A. Confidential is that, despite spending huge chunks of the film pondering what they’d cut and changed, I still enjoyed it immensely. Even while distracted with thoughts of the novel, its differences and its relative merits, I could still enjoy the fantastic filmmaking. The casting is perfect, especially Spacey, Pearce and Crowe (perhaps the last most of all, considering his penchant for real life violence). For once it really is as if the roles were written for them, making it easy to forget that Pearce and Crowe were virtually unknown at the time. They’re supported by a cracking screenplay (which I think I’ve praised plenty already) and beautiful direction, which manages to evoke the period without being shot like a period film — Hanson has stated that he aimed to make it period-accurate but shoot it like a modern thriller, and he’s succeeded. There may be one or two imperfections (the music felt a little repetitive to me, for example), but they’re slight and it seems churlish to pick on them in any depth.

I look forward to watching L.A. Confidential again without the novel hanging over my head. I’ve made my comparisons now, and my memory’s weak enough that, by the time I get round to watching it again (perhaps when the long-rumoured special edition re-release turns up), I’ll have forgotten enough of the novel’s specifics to not be bothered by them. I expect I’ll enjoy it even more then. It’s an excellent achievement, both as an adaptation and a film in its own right. You can’t say fairer than that.

The Baskerville Curse (1983)

Posted on May 7, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #25
Eddy Graham | 67 mins | DVD | U / G

Peter O’Toole is Sherlock Holmes (well, his voice) once again in this animated Conan Doyle adaptation from the ’80s (see also my reviews of two others, The Sign of Four and A Study in Scarlet). Of course, this is an adaptation of that perennially popular Holmes story, The Hound of the Baskervilles, and as such O’Toole barely features. A shame, as he’s the only half decent thing in this mess.

As I’ve previously expressed, The Hound of the Baskervilles is not my favourite Holmes story, though it has its moments and there have been some enjoyable screen versions. Unfortunately, this pointlessly renamed offering retains all of the original’s faults but loses most of the best bits, despite wasting time on train journeys, telegram writing and pointless flashbacks to things we saw just minutes earlier. The animation is poor, even for a production of this level, with dire character design and a total lack of atmosphere (it opens with jolly music over views of primary-coloured countryside!) There are further flaws, but there’s no point wasting any more time going through them. I can only hope that the final entry in this series, The Valley of Fear, will be closer in quality to the other two instalments.

In retrospect, I’m certain I underrated the 1939 adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles. I’m equally certain that I shall have no such regrets over this lame attempt.

The Baskerville Curse featured on my list of The Five Worst Films I Saw in 2008, which can be read in full here.

Rashomon (1950)

Posted on May 5, 2008 by badblokebob

2008 #24
Akira Kurosawa | 88 mins | DVD | 12 / PG-13

One has to wonder if Dr. Gregory House was exposed to Rashomon at a young age. House’s universal truth — “everyone lies” — is also the conclusion of Kurosawa’s much-lauded film, in which four witnesses tell different versions of the events surrounding a samurai’s murder.

The “Rashomon” of the title is one of two gates to Kyoto, built in 789 and in disrepair and disrepute by the film’s 12th Century setting, but thanks to this film the word has come to signify a narrative that retells the same event from multiple perspectives. Mentioning it seems unavoidable when writing about a film (or episode of TV, or novel, or…) with such a structure, as reviews of recent thriller Vantage Point would attest. However, most similar tales aren’t quite as radical as this ‘original’ (which is based on two short stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa), in which the four tales differ wildly.

Justifiably, much has been written about Rashomon, both critically and analytically. As such I’m not going to dig too deeply here, but instead just highlight a couple of reasons why it’s so acclaimed. For one, it looks great. Kazuo Miyagawa’s cinematography is exemplary, producing gorgeous rain at the gate, wonderful shadows in the forest, and employing numerous inventive shots and moves, always effective rather than showy. Fumio Hayasaka’s music underscores proceedings beautifully, coming into its own during long dialogue-free sequences. The performances are also accomplished, especially Toshiro Mifune as laughing bandit Tajomaru, but also Masayuki Mori’s largely silent turn as the murdered samurai, and Fumiko Honma’s chillingly freaky medium.

As I said, there’s much more that could be (and has been) written about Rashomon — I’ve not even touched on the intricacies of the plot, the presentation of the courthouse scenes, the significance of the fights, and so on. Certain viewers might be put off by the subtitles, the black and white photography, the film’s age, and its occasional ‘arthouse’-ness — and, I confess, I’m one of the first people to get fed up with films like Tati’s Play Time or Ozu’s Tokyo Story — but, for me, Rashomon was an incredibly enjoyable first encounter with Kurosawa.

Rashomon placed 5th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2008, which can be read in full here.

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