Parasite

Great that Parasite won the best film Oscar. Great for Korean films, great for foreign language films, great for the art of cinema, great for anyone who loves films. To see a film like this pull in the crowds is heartening indeed. It’s one of those rare films where everything is judged to perfection. Simply flawless. Who says art can’t be entertaining too?

Eyes Wide Shut – a film whose time has come

2019 was the 20th anniversary of the release of Stanley Kubrick’s last film, Eyes Wide Shut. In recognition of this fact, it was given a re-release in cinemas. This gave me the chance to see it for the third time in the cinema, having seen it twice when it was first released. I’ve also seen it on DVD more than once, as well as individual sequences which I love to watch from time to time, notably the masked ritual sequence.

And so I have finally decided to write about the film. A film which has been endlessly written about and which is one of my favourites, for reasons which will become clear as the article progresses.

One unifying factor of Kubrick’s filmography is that, on initial release at least, his films always seem to divide critical opinion. This being as true for EWS as much as any film he made. I personally find that the films that divide critical opinion with strong feelings both for and against, are often the most interesting films, even more so than those that have universal acclaim. (Although of course there are exceptions). In the case of EWS, it was deemed “not erotic enough”, “not sexy enough”, “unrealistic”, “slow”, and so on. To me, I’ve always felt that critics were attacking the film for things the film was never trying to be in the first place. So it’s “not erotic enough”? Who says that Kubrick wanted to make an erotic film anyway? Not realistic enough? Who says that Kubrick wanted to make a realistic film? It’s as if these critics went into the screening with this mental picture of what the film was “supposed” to be, and when it didn’t reflect their mental picture, they attacked it. Attacked it for not achieving what it was never trying to achieve. Added to the fact that critics don’t like to be made to feel dumb. Faced with Kubrick’s superior intellect, they resort to negative sniping.

Furthermore, EWS is a film which comes with an immense amount of contextual baggage that makes it hard to treat as as just a film. Most obviously, this stems from the fact that Kubrick died just 5 days after the film was previewed to Warner executives. Given the subject matter, it was always going to be difficult to remove this background context from any appreciation of the film.

I’ll never forget going to see the film for the first time. I’d been anticipating it for a long time. I first read that Kubrick was going to make it in 1996, so it had been a long wait. Coupled with the fact that some of the topics it dealt with, namely conspiracies and the occult, had been something that I had become massively interested in for the same amount of time. So my expectations were sky-high. And I’m pleased to say, they were met. I really loved the film. It was quite unlike any other film I had seen, it had an enigmatic, dream-like quality and a sense of ambiguity which made it endlessly intriguing.

Having just seen it again I noticed some things that I’d never noticed before. Near the beginning of the film, when Cruise is being seduced by the two young women, one of them is introduced as “Nuala Windsor”. Of course this makes complete sense, and also one of the girls mentions “Rockefeller Plaza”. So, within the first 10 minutes of the film, Kubrick references the Windsors and the Rockefellers. This can’t be a coincidence, he knew exactly what he was doing. And now events have caught up with the film – I saw the film just a day after the Panorama programme in which Virgina Roberts Giuffre was interviewed about having sex with Andrew Windsor (aka Prince Andrew). As always, Kubrick was ahead of the game. He knew full well what was going on, and this film was his parting shot. And the sooner the monarchy and all it represents comes crashing down the better.

One scene that stood out to me more than ever this time is the one in which Cruise visits the costumier and we meet a Lolita-like girl (played by Leelee Sobieski). There is an obvious echo of Kubrick’s earlier film Lolita here. It turns out that her Father, the costumier, is pimping her out to clients. I immediately thought of the similarity of this girl to the many girls who were being pimped out by Jeffrey Epstein and Guislane Maxwell. Kubrick’s ahead of the game again.

By the end of the film I always have so many questions, such as:

Who put the mask onto the pillow?

Just who were those Asian men at the costumiers?

Was Nicole Kidman at the masked ritual?

Was Mandy ritually sacrificed or was she really “just a junkie”?

What does the Lolita-like girl whisper in Tom Cruise’s ear?

Which is the dream and which is the reality?

Why do so many verbal interactions include characters repeating exactly what has just been said to them? Just one example of many: Character 1: “Remove your clothes”; Character 2: “Remove my clothes?”

Why is the prostitute called Domino?

But that’s what I love about the film. So many questions, so much ambiguity.

Another thing I noticed this time is how everything is reduced to transactions, exchanges. Is Kubrick saying that the modern world has reduced sexual relations to a transaction? It’s certainly possible. It can’t be a coincidence that the lead character is called Bill.

Another question: why is it called Eyes Wide Shut? Some people say this is a mind-control trigger but I’ve not seen any evidence of that. My view now is that it refers to the state of mind of much of humanity, that walks around with its eyes open but still can’t see what’s going on in front if them. Key example: Jimmy Saville. I rest my case. He even DRESSED like a paedophile. It’s all hidden in plain sight.

And as for the orgy, the criticism it received for not being realistic enough begs the question, by what yardstick are they judging it? Maybe it’s an exact representation of what goes on, in which case it is the height of realism.

People speculate on whether the film was fully finished or not. I personally think it WAS fully finished, Kubrick himself said it was his best film and he had previewed it to Warners. If anything he may have tampered with it slightly up until its release as he did with many of his films. But those would just have been cosmetic changes. I personally think it was the sheer relief he felt in completing the film that may have contributed to his death.

Another question: was Kubrick sacrificed, or did he just die of a heart attack? Consider this scenario: after the preview, the powers that be get wind of what he is exposing and order that he be assassinated as punishment. A directed frequency weapon is targeted at him to induce a heart attack.

Or……he died of a heart attack in his sleep. The choice is yours…….a s with the film itself.

Finally, look at the poster for the film. Look again. The eye in the pyramid is there. Hidden in plain sight.

The Irishman (review without spoilers)

On Sunday 13 October I saw a preview of Scorsese’s new film, The Irishman, at HOME cinema in Manchester. A new Scorsese film is always one of the cinematic events of the year and this applied even more than usual. I mean, just say these words – Scorsese, De Niro, Pacino, Pesci. A mafia film. What’s not to like?

This film currently has a Metacritic rating of 94 and having seen it, I can see why. This has to be Scorsese’s mature masterpiece and one of the crowning achievements of his filmography. It’s a logical development of his earlier films of this type, because it combines familiar gangster tropes with something new – depth, reflection, introspection.

At three and a half hours, this is Scorsese’s longest film, but I savoured every minute of it and whilst I was watching it I just didn’t want it to end. This film has a moral heft to it and, by the end, an elegiac quality which took the film to another level. The moral and spiritual bankruptcy of these people becomes all too evident.

But let’s go into some of the specifics, some standouts that immediately spring to mind. Joe Pesci came out of retirement for this film and – far removed  from the unhinged nature of his earlier roles – he gives a performance of controlled, quiet intensity that makes him riveting to watch. If he doesn’t win a Best Supporting Oscar award then I will be astonished. And Al Pacino – surprisingly his first ever film for Scorsese – fully inhabits the role of Jimmy Hoffa, you can tell he relishes the part and he is equally riveting. I haven’t seen him as good as this in a long time. Similarly De Niro – someone who has really spread his talents thinly in recent times, and made some poor choices – comes back with a vengeance in this film. You can feel the weight of his choices on his shoulders by the end, and the sense that he has a hole where his soul should be.

Scorsese’s direction is as brilliant as ever. Beautiful tracking shots are deployed to great effect. Of course there is violence but he pulls back this time, the moments of violence are short, sharp and brutal but without wallowing in them for shock value. And the way he manages to so deftly tell a complex story which includes flashbacks and multiple plotlines, is a wonder to behold. We never lost sight of where we are in the context of the over-arching narrative.

I was also impressed with the dialogue which was dryly humorous throughout. There is some great verbal jousting between the characters, and scenes of wordplay which brought many chuckles to the audience.

The editing by Thelma Schoonmaker (geek alert – she is the widow of the iconic British film director Michael Powell) is sharp and precise. She has worked with Scorsese going right back to the Woodstock documentary of 1969. Geek alert number 2 – I once met her when she came to the Cornerhouse cinema in Manchester to give a talk in 1993.

From a historical perspective the film is also fascinating.  It touched on several important events and, being a conspiracy buff, it was great to see the connection between the mafia and the Kennedy assassination. Anyone interested in the Kennedy assassination will know about David Ferrie. He makes a very brief appearance in the film. Geek alert number 3 – he was played by Joe Pesci in Oliver Stone’s brilliant film JFK.

You will note that I have not mentioned the de-aging technology, which enables the actors to play roles that cover decades. That’s because I was so engrossed by the film that I simply didn’t notice it. Which shows how effective it was. That’s all I need to say about it.

Hats off to NETFLIX for giving Scorsese carte blanche to make this film. If they continue to give the green light to films of this quality then I will forgive them for all the rubbish they show. There are scenes  here which will be watched and quoted over and over again. It is an instant classic and am sure it will be seen to be one of the top 5 films of Scorsese’s career. I’m already getting excited about seeing it again.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (Review with spoilers)

I always get excited when I know there’s a new Tarantino film coming up. You just know it’s going to be one of the highlights of the cinematic year. And this film didn’t disappoint. I would recommend seeing the film before reading any more of this review because otherwise your viewing experience will suffer.

There’s so much one could say about this film. I’ve seen it twice now and found it just as enjoyable on a second viewing. The over-whelming sense one gets when watching it is that the film is made by someone who has a real passion for cinema. This passion shines through every frame. It shines through in the camera-work, in the dialogue, in the acting and in the evocation of a period. Because more than anything, the film is about evoking the Hollywood of the late 60s. In face I would say that the evocation of period over-rides plot. The film meanders, goes off on tangents and takes its time pulling us in.

I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck right from the opening credits sequence where we see the backs of Pitt and Di Caprio in the car, driving along over a rocking 60s song.

The attention to period detail is amazing. Whether it be obscure songs from the period or tv shows that have long since been forgotten. To give just one example. At one point there is a billboard advertising the 1968 film Lady in Cement, starring Frank Sinatra and Raquel Welch. However Raquel is mis-spelt as “Racquel”, ie with a C in the middle. Her name was sometimes mispelt back then, before she was a household name. Only Tarantino would have thought of this kind of detail.

There’s so much to enjoy in this film. From the recreation of B movie westerns to the relaxed interplay between the two leads (Pitt and Di Caprio) to the sly humour (I loved the nod to the Great Escape) and the memorable minor parts (who could forget the young girl acting in the Western within the film – she gave Di Caprio a run for his money!).

The film is not without its flaws though. I mean, do we really need two scenes of the Pitt character feeding his dog? Do we even need one ? I felt some scenes went on a bit too long and also sometimes it felt like Tarantino was almost showing off with his knowledge of the minutiae of 1960 culture. And did we need the scene with Steve McQueen? But these are minor quibbles.

There is a tremendous scene about halfway through the film where the tone changes. Pitt picks up a hippie girl (another spot on performance from this actress) and takes her back to Spahn Ranch. At the Ranch Tarantino brilliantly increases the feeling of discomfort. We know something’s not quite right but we can’t put our finger on it. Is it a religous commune? Have they killed someone? Is Pitt’s life in danger? The whole ambience here – lighting, photography, etc reminded me of a Spaghetti Western.

As the film goes on there is an increasing sense of doom. The film has its own in-built tension since we all know what tragic fate befell Sharon Tate. The Manson murders were symbolic of the ending of the 1960s and showed the ugly flipside to the unrestrained hedonism. The film ends with the quintessential Tarantino ending. I was really hoping Tarantino wouldn’t spoil the rest of the film with the finale and I’m pleased to say he didn’t. As the title hints at, this is an alternate reality, a fairy tale. It ends with a sense of poignancy and a bitter-sweet tone of “What if…?” In its own way it serves as a tribute to Sharon Tate too.

So where does the film stand in the Tarantino canon? I would put it above Hateful Eight but below Django Unchained. So I think it’s a flawed masterpiece. It is undoubtedly a film I will enjoying seeing again and again.

The Book of Mormon (musical)

Yes I know it’s not a film, it’s a musical, but on this rare occasion I want to talk about something other than a film because I saw it recently. So here’s my review:

Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. Funny.

End of review.

Best Films

It’s been a while, I have been busy compiling a list of my all time best films. I define “best” as being films to which I would give a rating of at least 8 out of 10. These films are the cream of cinema, and the first 30 are the cream of the cream. These are given a rating of 10.5 as they are films that are particularly dear to me, and are arranged alphabetically. The rest are arranged in order of rating, from 10 to 8. Essentially, 10 equals Masterpiece. The spreadsheet can be arranged by Title, Rating or Director.

Here is the link:

Best Films

Films Seen at the Cinema in 1998

Top ten favourite new films are listed in a purple font. Films I consider to be masterpieces have the letter M written after the title in red.

Regeneration

The Wings of the Dove

Plein Soleil (France) (1960)

The End of Violence

Titanic

The American Friend (Germany) (1977)

Boogie Nights

The Ice Storm

In the Company of Men

Good Will Hunting

The Butcher Boy

M (Germany) (1930)

Deconstructing Harry

Jackie Brown

Kundun

Breakdown

Live Flesh (Spain)

The Big Lebowski

Prisoner of the Mountains

Wild Man Blues (Documentary)

Mad City

The Daytrippers

The Gingerbread Man

Point Blank (1967)

Kiss or Kill (Australia)

Out of the Past (1947)

Le Bossu (France)

La Grande Illusion (France) (1937) M

The Spanish Prisoner

The Last Days of Disco

The X-Files

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) M

There’s Something About Mary

Saving Private Ryan M

The Truman Show

Mulan (Animation)

Snake Eyes

Funny Games (Germany)

Character

My Name is Joe

Out of Sight

Henry Fool

The Prince of Egypt (Animation)


Aleksei German – the unknown genius of cinema

“I am not interested in anything but the possibility of building a world, an entire civilization from scratch.” A. German

I have been wanting to write a post on Aleksei German (1938-2013) for some time, but I needed to make sure that I could do justice to his films. (I should also add at the outset that he shouldn’t be confused with his son, Aleksei German Jr, who is also a film director but none of whose films I have seen.)

I first came across the work of German in 2015, when I read the synopsis of Hard To Be A God in the Manchester HOME Cinema programme. It immediately intrigued me and I knew that this was a film I had to see. And I have to say it was a film unlike any other I had seen (the nearest in comparison is Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev but even that doesn’t do it justice). From the first frame to last, my jaw was on the floor and it felt like my eyes were popping out of their sockets. It was as if I had forgotten to blink! There was so much going on in each frame that I didn’t know where to look. This film that just came out of nowhere (to me at least) portrayed in minute detail an immersive, hellish world the like of which I had never seen before, other than in the works of painters like Breughel and Bosch. And in my opinion this film is entirely worthy of being spoken of in the same breath as those great painters. The level of detail in this film is simply astonishing. It’s a film of texture and sensory overload. It’s grotesque, brutal, harsh, but it’s also beautiful in its ugliness. Indeed in a way I find the film quite life-affirming which seems bizarre given the subject-matter but I think it’s a tribute to German’s ability to infuse every scene with a sense of “realness”.

The dialogue is full of sentences that go nowhere and cryptic non-sequiturs that don’t move the narrative forward. There is a bare minimum of exposition. I’ve seen the film more than once and, strangely, I can only remember fragments of the dialogue.

Something else that impressed me about the film was German’s use of sound. This was evident right from the opening frame when one hears an atonal wailing but one never finds out where it is coming from or who is doing it. All the sound in the film is diegetic too. I was gripped from the moment Rumata plays modern jazz on his clarinet. The incongruity of that modern sound expressing itself in a medieval setting was startling and I knew from that moment that I was in for something special. German (like Orson Welles) knows how important sound is to a film. It’s not just about the visuals (hello Ridley Scott). To me, German’s cinema is the ultimate expression of total cinema.

The shot composition is breathtaking in its use of high-contrast black and white photography. What I found most unique about it was the way German has action occurring on three planes- near, middle and distant. We may see someone’s hand close to the camera, which may partially block out our sight of what is happening in the middle distance, and then we see something else significant in the far distance. And this all happens virtually at the same time. Another time we may see some chicken legs dangling in front of the camera, or some sausages. One wonders if there were a lot of out-takes where the camera crashed into something! German is creating a hyper-real world which has more truthfulness than many films depicting the “real” world. He once made a comment about Fellini being “cinema’s only realist” and watching Hard To Be a God one can see exactly what he means. Who needs 3d when you’ve got this? Who needs colour when you’ve got this? Who needs non-diegetic sound when you’ve got this? Who needs plot when you’ve got this? One feels that German’s film is going in one direction but the rest of modern cinema is going in a different direction.

I see the world portrayed in Hard To Be A God as one in which entropy and stasis have taken over. The force of gravity may well be stronger on this planet too, which would explain things like the nosebleeds that Don Rumata gets from time to time. The movement is one of constant downward motion, whether it be the inventor trying to fly his plane or the bird-droppings that fall at points throughout the film. (And that’s another thing – just how did German get such great performances from the animals in the film?)

Since seeing Hard To Be A God, something about the film really got under my skin and I have to say that it is the film I have thought about more than any other film I have seen since. It seems to be permanently lodged in my psyche. (Which probably doesn’t say much about my psyche, but that’s another matter). I was also shocked that I had never heard of German before as I pride myself on my film knowledge. I have since read everything I can find on him (which isn’t a lot) as I find him an immensely fascinating film-maker, who really deserves to be more widely known. I’ve since found out that Russian film critics voted My Friend Ivan Lapshin the best Russian film ever made, even above Tarkovsky. I’ve also sought out his other films and apart from Lapshin have also seen Trial on the Road (1971) and Khrustalyov, My Car! (1998). Both of which I loved. That only leaves Twenty Days Without War (1976) of his fully realised films and my eventual viewing of that will be tinged with sadness knowing I won’t have any more German films left to see.

The critic Robbie Collins made an insightful remark when he said that watching Hard To Be A God was like having an “encounter with the Necronomicon”, in the sense that you feel as if you are watching something that shouldn’t exist. And that is exactly it, the film has such verisimilitude and sense of authenticity that one feels that German has gone in a time machine back to the Dark Ages and simply filmed what he sees without any filter. One aspect of his technique which I found startling was the way he has characters break the fourth wall by occasionally looking into the camera. Now this is breaking one of the rules of film-making, but it works brilliantly here because it conveys the impression that we – as the viewer – are observers on Arkanar, like Rumata himself, and hence it really adds to the sense of authenticity. In other words, rather than breaking the spell of believability, it actually increases it. Which seems counter-intuitive I know, but it makes me wonder why more directors don’t try this approach. Another product of the breaking of the fourth wall is that it raises the question, what are the inhabitants looking at when they look into the camera? We know that Rumata wears a camera round his head (disguised as jewellery) so it’s certainly possible that we – as the viewer – are seeing everything through another disguised camera filmed by another visitor from Earth.

I was also impressed at German’s mastery of narrative and structure. Again, he never takes the obvious approach. Key events happen off-screen. A couple of important characters are killed and we only see the aftermath, as if the camera is having to catch-up with events as the sense of momentum increases. Life is happening beyond the camera. The camera is merely a blinkered observer.

German was once asked, why is it taking so long to make your film? (It was filmed between 2000 and 2006 and post-production was between 2006 and 2013, making it one of the longest shoots in film history). He replied by mentioning a famous painter whose painting took 20 years to paint. And this raises an interesting point – why shouldn’t a film take as long to make as a masterpiece of painting? Why shouldn’t it be accorded the same respect as a great painting or a great novel or even a great piece of architecture? Look at the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, which is still unfinished after about 100 years of building.

So to return to the quote at the beginning of this piece: “I am not interested in anything but the possibility of building a world, an entire civilization from scratch.”

With Hard To Be A God, German achieved that objective. And a film that can be compared to any of the great artistic masterpieces in any medium.

I can’t wait to enter its world again…