The Sure Motif

A Prophet

2010-03-21T00:32:00.005Z

This dazzling piece of cinema from French director Jacques Audiard is a powerful work of art, overflowing with iconic characters and oozing confidence from its every frame.

The film focuses on young Malik (powerfully played by Tahar Rahim), serving a six year prison sentence for an unknown crime. Arriving with nothing more than a fifty-euro note stuck in his worn-out trainers, A Prophet follows his career on the inside, as he comes across Corsican mafia (led by Niels Arestrup) and other groups within the crowded prison.

To discuss the way the plot unfolds throughout the near-three hour length of the film would be to ruin one of the chief pleasures of an excellent script, but it is worth noting that the writing quality here is of an exceptional standard. Politics, characterisation, religion and elements of fantasy or super-realism are interwoven with a plot that maintains a relentless and gripping pace from start to finish. Some segments are perhaps slightly superfluous to the main narrative thrust, but these are executed with such panache that few viewers could find sufficient cause for complaint.

Audiard's direction is superlative, his keen eye filling every scene with details and touches, and effectively capturing some magnificent performances by the strong cast. There is a tangible attempt to create a truly iconic crime drama here - with the epic scope of The Godfather, the punchy style of Trainspotting and the thematic ambiguity (but notably none of the ironic overtones) of Pulp Fiction. These are not glib references - the film merits comparison with such definitive work because it is undoubtedly worthy of entry into that pantheon.

Utterly revelatory on a first viewing, A Prophet is a film to be pored over, studied, dissected and above all treasured.

5/5

Swingers

2009-03-30T23:27:00.003+01:00

'Romantic comedy' is a phrase likely to bring most cinephiles out in a rash. This 1996 offbeat comedy skirts potential artistic suicide with a strained attempt at effortless cool, and plays out like a comedy of manners for the Tarantino generation.

Jon Favreau gives a magnetic performance in the central role of his own script, as a recently single comedian trying to make it in Hollywood, held back only by coyness, self-reflection and an annoying (and occasionally far-fetched) propensity for self-destruction.

The first third of the film follows Favreau on a road trip to Las Vegas with a before-he-got-irritating Vince Vaughan in support, in a doomed attempt to banish the ghosts of his previous relationship with a one night stand. While providing some good gags and employing a measured pace that intrigues, this section of the film sits uncomfortably with the remainder, which takes place in Los Angeles.

With a mostly forgettable supporting cast (Heather Graham lifts the quality somewhat with her late appearance) the crop of reservoir dogs around which the film is centred not only idolise Tarantino, but highlight an uncomfortable level of fan boy worship in Favreau's script. Indeed the juddering slow-motion walking sequence in the middle of the film, no doubt intended as arch and ironic, comes across as patronisingly derivative.

Engaging and funny, but a little too sharply scripted for its own good, Swingers slaps a dollop of 90s chic onto a well-worn formula and, thanks in most part to some bright performances, manages to entertain more than it irritates.
3/5

Radio On

2008-12-14T21:03:00.005Z

This sparse, poignant 1979 film from critic turned first-time-director Christopher Petit is a rare example of a British road movie. Financed by Wim Wenders' production company, the film centres on a young man who travels from London to Bristol to investigate the mysterious death of his brother.

Plot is not important here. Indeed the lives of the various characters met on the way are relatively unimportant. What is most strongly conveyed, through a precise mix of bleak, monochrome cinematography, languorous tracking shots of industrialised Britain and cold New Wave and electronic music is a meditative exploration of a societal malaise.

The film opens with a long tracking shot through an apparently deserted house, taking in many minor details, and looping through different rooms to the sound of David Bowie's "Heroes" / "Helden" (the German version of the same song), finally setting on a image which transpires to be the final viewpoint of a dying man in the bath.

Oppressively bleak and yet somehow ultimately uplifting, a feat accomplished without being remotely redemptive, Radio On is worth persevering with to the end - just don't expect any answers. As with all good road movies, the lesson learnt is in the journey. In Petit's minor masterpiece we are taught that apathy is universal. Somehow, this is a comforting thought.
4/5

Se7en

2008-10-19T16:19:00.004+01:00

This unremittingly bleak tale of murder and attrition from director David Fincher is an astonishing cinematic statement, that remains as shocking today as when it was first released in 1995. It is a masterpiece of the macabre and modern gothic, and sits in the same category as Psycho - a film that proves pure genre pieces can be as profound and inventive as any cinematic expression.

Se7en follows Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt as two detectives in their respective last and first weeks on the job, following the case of a serial killer who mutilates his victims and labels the crimes with one of the seven deadly sins. The murders, though off screen, are nonetheless gory and graphic, and form the gritty substance of the film.

Murky and dark, the opening segments of the film trap the audience in a purgatorial city of depravity, fear and constant decay. As the investigators meditate on the writings of Milton and Chaucer, we are pulled in to the psychology of a killer who we've yet to meet. Most intriguingly of all, and virtually unique in good crime films, we are forced to focus on the how, rather than the why of the grisly murders.

As Fincher unveils the ace up the film's sleeve, we are pulled with the characters into the blinding light of day, and left with the uncomfortable notion that self-understanding is the worst fruit plucked from the tree of knowledge. Dazzlingly pure and perfectly realised, Se7en is in many ways the epitaph of modernist cinema, and gave Fincher the freedom to move on to tackling post-modernism, a goal he would achieve with Fight Club.
5/5

The Descent

2008-10-16T22:55:00.004+01:00

This terrifying British horror movie is, to turn a cringing phrase, "the mutant offspring of Touching The Void and The Hobbit on steroids". A group of young women meet to go potholing in the Appalachians, one year after a terrible accident threatens to tear them apart. Tensions bubble under the surface as they descend into the mountain, where they are totally unprepared for the horrors that will throw them together and then tear them, limb from limb, apart.

While on paper this premise sounds overblown and more than a little silly, The Descent is actually a refreshing change: a horror movie that is subtle in characterization and sharply acted. Once the subterranean odyssey begins, the dialogue is reeled in, and director Neil Marshall allows his astonishing visuals to command the action. A happy conjunction of realism and textured artistry, the aesthetic is dark, claustrophobic, and unnervingly effective.

Indeed the claustrophobic first half of the film is arguably the stronger, where the tension is maintained by the fracturing emotions and crumbling setting. Horror aficionados especially will appreciate the punch behind the claustrophobic terror shown here, of woman-versus-nature at it's most raw. Inevitably this is lost somewhat in the second act, as Marshall pulls out all the stops to unleash a torrent of gore. Surprisingly, the tension remains.

Important to note here is a conscious effort to avoid clichéd visual terminology, meaning some of the symbolism is surprisingly potent. Where one "dirtied" character lands in a pool of water, another apparent innocent lands in... something rather less appealing.

Ultimately the main point of contention in whether the film succeeds is in the reading of the dénouement. Marshall attempts to append "into Madness" to the title of his film, and whether he successfully achieves this coup de grâce is for the viewer to decide. What is certain is that The Descent stands tall as a terrifying, brutal and witty horror film, that no doubt will age better than many of its contemporaries.
4/5

Punch-Drunk Love

2008-05-28T20:09:00.004+01:00

This beautiful indie flick from art house maestro Paul Thomas Anderson is a deliberately understated study of neurosis and first love. Light and playful in the most part, but with an undercurrent of ire directed at societal complacency, it is perhaps most notable for an excellent performance from Adam Sandler, certainly a diamond in the turgid rough of his career.

Sandler takes the central role as Barry Egan, a frustrated, possibly mildly autistic businessman whose life is ruined by both his own repressed psyche, and the meddling of his seven ghastly sisters. Indeed, all the women that Egan encounters in the film (including the woman he speaks to on a phone-sex hotline) are a source of nothing but trauma, save for one. As his relationship with the quiet Lena, pointedly underplayed by Emily Watson, blooms, Sandler nuances his performance with a surprising amount of depth.

Combining plot elements of comedy, romance and thriller, the film is pitched as a minimalist and artistic piece. The use of colour is bold but not overpowering, and there is striking use of the late Jeremy Blake's video artwork to break up the narrative. Yet the balance is maintained, as Philip Seymour Hoffman (enjoying himself) and his goons manage to cause a believable amount of mayhem.

Anderson's screenplay and direction are typically unpredictable, and repeat viewings will undoubtedly reveal a complex substructure to the playful narrative. Despite this, Punch-Drunk Love is a pleasure to watch on a first viewing, and proof that Anderson can churn out quirky, clever little indie gems in his sleep.
4/5

El Mariachi

2008-05-21T21:54:00.004+01:00

This micro-budget Mexican thriller marked the feature-film debut of Robert Rodriguez, who's taste for superlative action and grungey horror has made him a Hollywood success story over the last decade or so, including two collaborations with Quentin Tarantino. It comes as something of a shock then, to re-visit this early exercise in style and suspense and see the restraint on view.

Carlos Gallardo plays the near-destitute mariachi who arrives in a strange city, guitar in hand, looking for work. Unfortunately for him, a recent breakout at a local prison (which forms the drily amusing opening of the film) has meant that a local crimelord has ordered his men to kill a man carrying a guitar case (in this case loaded with guns). A case of mistaken identity serves as the McGuffin to kick start a reasonably predictable but enjoyably twisted cat and mouse thriller.

Some may dismiss the low production values on offer as limitations, but in many ways they ring more true than the high-budget B-movie worship of later works such as From Dusk Till Dawn. Peter Marquardt makes for an hilariously unconvincing villain, and there are certainly continuity goofs that even the most casual viewer couldn't fail to spot.

Regardless, the film comes across as an effortless fusion of style and charm, and deservedly became something of an international hit.
4/5

Thirty Two Short Films About Glenn Gould

2008-03-17T19:59:00.005Z

This experimentally-structured dissection of the life of reclusive Canadian pianist Glenn Gould is far more watchable than it has any right to be. The short films referred to in the title are spread across a range of styles and genres - from talking heads through dramatic reconstructions and including abstract pieces set to Gould's performances and compositions.

Gould himself, a child prodigy and concert pianist star at a young age, retired from performing in the 1960s at the tender age of 32 to concentrate on recorded performance (a trick the Beatles would pull two years later). In the majority of the films here he is played by Colm Feore, who captures the essence of an idiosyncratic - arguably obsessive-compulsive - personality.

Director Francois Girard follows a loose chronology though Gould's life, breaking the biographical sections up with a range of excellent - occasionally inspired - shorts centred around the man's music. These include snippets of cinematic expression similar to those found in Fantasia, enacted or genuine response to the music, abstract animation, and perhaps most memorably one astonishing sequence of X-ray video footage.

This is not a film for entertaining the family on a weekday afternoon, but - for those so inclined to watch - is is gripping, fascinating and beautiful. As an artistic exploration of one man's life and work, and a study of the music that engulfed it, the film is a triumph.
4/5

There Will Be Blood

2008-03-16T00:06:00.006Z

This breathtaking masterpiece from director Paul Thomas Anderson is one of the best American films in decades. Uniquely innovative from start to finish - both in Anderson's excellent script and his unorthodox direction - it also contains a career-best performance from the finest actor of his generation.

Daniel Day Lewis has had a career notable for its consistent level of excellence, no doubt due in part to his highly selective choice of roles. Here, he portrays an entrepreneur and self-proclaimed "oil-man" on his rise to wealth and power in the first decades of the twentieth century. On screen for virtually the entirety of the near-three hours of There Will Be Blood, his complete, full-blooded, human and ultimately demonic portrayal of a man's spiralling collapse within his own soul deservedly won him a second Best Actor gong at this year's Oscars.

The rest of the cast is also excellent, especially the young Paul Dano (best known as the one who doesn't speak in Little Miss Sunshine) who excels in a difficult role as a proto-evangelist preacher. Religion is a core aspect of the areas examined by the film, but Anderson does not presume to pass comment for or against it. Instead, religion and the economics of oil exploration are fused into a complex exploration of a number of issues underlying the surface fabric of the film.

Many reviews have praised the depiction of the period setting, but it isn't hard to see through this to a modern America, being chewed up by oil and religion. Both are seen as blood, coursing respectively through earth and society, a blood which boils up in the veins and arteries of the central character and is unleashed as cholic hatred on all within range.

The power and brilliance of There Will Be Blood is almost overwhelming on a first viewing - due in no small part to Johnny Greenwood's astonishing experimental score - and the film demands a second viewing. Watching it is like having your guts pulled out through your stomach, and yet somehow you leave the cinema walking on air. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant.
5/5

Blood Simple

2007-10-27T14:30:00.000+01:00

This hugely impressive debut feature from Joel and Ethan Coen is a brilliantly cast, highly stylised modern noir. Immediately showing its hand, the film opens with a beautiful scene, with two characters talking in a dark car at night, viewed from behind. We glimpse their faces only as headlights approach and pass. It sets the tone for a film that is built around the characters never quite seeing the full picture.

M. Emmet Walsh is the sleazy private eye hired to kill a debutante Frances McDormand, the cheating wife of bar owner Dan Hedaya, and her lover John Getz. A spate of twists and excellently scripted misunderstandings follows, as the body count mounts, and the characters are each pushed through their own private hell.

The acting is excellent throughout, especially the vivid, droll performance from Walsh, who is truly disgusting and yet mesmerising in his own way. McDormand's character emerges from the wreckage in the state described in the title - that of a childish simplicity into which those immersed in violence slip.

Indeed the central premise of the original script appears to be the emotional and psychological chaos that is formed in violence. The Coens' juxtaposition of this tumultuous idea with the calm, almost stately direction is intoxicating, and the film intelligently builds to a deeply satisfying, subversive and highly original conclusion.
4/5

A Zed & Two Noughts

2007-10-22T11:32:00.000+01:00

This 1985 surrealistic analysis of the notions of decay, evolution and the trappings of flesh is one of the most vivid films of the decade. Peter Greenaway's film concerns twin brothers, whose wives are killed in a freak swan accident outside the zoo (the title spells out the central location in a pun) at which they work. As they struggle to cope with the notion of their loved ones' decomposition, they form a bond with the only survivor of the accident, a French woman who is to lose her leg.

In parts extremely disturbing, the film contains much footage of plants and animals (and eventually worse) decaying, using time lapse photography that the brothers use as an experimental means to consider the notion of death. There is also much screen time spent watching characters watching a series of David Attenborough-narrated nature documentaries. The central postulate of the first act seems to be the futility of any evolution which can climax only in death.

As with all of Greenaway's films, there is a glorious mix of lush cinematography, full of rich colours and steady tracking shots, and the propelling force of Michael Nyman's pre-Baroque score. As well as the virtuoso use of the time-lapse photography, there are many visual tricks, such as the twins' appearances gradually converging, and this being mirrored in an increasing symmetry in the shot framing, culminating in the most perverse and profound of finales.

The real joy here is the sensual overload that coils around the increasingly surreal plot. The doctor obsessed with amputation, the stranded amputees, the decaying fabric of society compared with decomposed flesh, the resurgence of animalism over humanism, the sexual frustration of losing a partner, the association of animals with nursery rhymes (and the repeated use of the "Teddy Bear's Picnic"); all these ideas and more combine in a visual, sonic and intellectual smorgusboard of decay and despair in modern society.
5/5

Hard Eight

2007-10-10T10:09:00.001+01:00

This 1996 debut by rising talent Paul Thomas Anderson is an underplayed, rewarding drama about gambling and crime. Philip Baker Hall is brilliant as Sydney (the film's working title), a professional gambler who takes a young John C. Reilly under his wing after finding him penniless outside a diner. The pair go to Las Vegas, where the protégé is taught a few clever tricks to earn himself a bed for the night in a luxury casino hotel. Without warning, the films shifts forwards two years, and the pair are still working together. Reilly's character is mixed up with Samuel L. Jackson, unusually in villainous mode, and Gwyneth Paltrow is the hooker who is the object of his affections.

Pleasingly moving along an unpredictable plot at a stately pace, the film rewards in a style that Anderson would later perfect in Magnolia. Philip Baker Hall gives a magnetic performance, lending a mixture of gravitas and humanity to a role that could easily have been pantomimic. Reilly and Jackson are as excellent as ever, and Paltrow is believable as the confused prostitute whose actions catalyse the violence of the second act. There is also a small appearance by Philip Seymour Hoffman as an impertinent gambler.

Anderson is an extremely talented writer and director, both in terms of his visual style and how well he coaxes interesting performances from characters often typecast. Hard Eight is not his best picture, but it is an interesting and under-rated debut from a director who would go on to great things. For a film concerning gambling and crime, there is pleasingly little of either on show here, and instead he bravely focuses on the human drama surrounding the idiosyncratic plot.
3/5

My Neighbour Totoro

2007-10-04T09:14:00.001+01:00

For true appreciation of Miyazaki's genius, his films must be watched with children. Because they are Japanese films its easy to forget that they're not art house cinema; they are cartoons written with children in mind. For my money, My Neighbour Totoro is perhaps the most wonderful expression of childhood ever found in a film that can be enjoyed by children.

An early high watermark from Studio Ghibli (indeed the film that gave them their icon, the titular "Totoro"), the story is astonishingly simple, and is perhaps unique in featuring no antagonist whatsoever. A frequent device in Miyazaki's films is to undermine the simplistic notion of villainy, but here there is no villain of which to speak. We follow the story of two sisters, the school-age Satsuki and her younger sister Mei, as they move into a new house and explore the surrounding area.

With a small crop of wonderfully realised characters (academic dad, the helpful old lady who asks them to call her "granny", and a mother sick in hospital, possibly from tuberculosis) the true joy in the film is the children's giddy excitement at such simple acts as collecting acorns. When Mei discovers a series of increasingly large squashy rabbit-trolls, the adventure begins. Despite there being no antagonist, the latter half of them film is still extremely tense, and had my young cousins biting their nails at the thought that young Mei had become lost in the woods.

The animation here is obviously done on a smaller budget then later works such as Princess Mononoke or Spirited Away, but is alive, and the rural landscape breathes and moves unbelievably. The film is wonderful fun, and very funny for both adults and children. The score by the ever-excellent Joe Hisaishi is superb, although the English-language title song is cringingly terrible (but then you were going to watch it subtitled anyway, weren't you?).

The Totoro himself is a wonderful, comic creature that has a deliriously idiosyncratic character (try to stop yourself giggling with glee at the effect an umbrella has on him). If nothing else, the film is worth watching for the two appearances of the Catbus, perhaps the single greatest piece of animation ever seen in cinema.
5/5

Barton Fink

2007-10-03T12:45:00.000+01:00

This 1991 surrealist drama swept the board at Cannes that year, winning the Palme d'Or as well as awards for best director and best actor. Despite this, it remains one of the Coen Brothers less known pictures, as indeed do all of their films before Fargo.

The chameleonic (and impossibly faceless) John Turturro is brilliant as the titular playwright who (perhaps literally) sells his soul to Hollywood in 1941. After achieving critical success in his native New York with a social realist play about fishmongers, he moves to Hollywood and is immediately set to work on a demeaning B-movie about wrestling. Nonetheless, writer's block sets in, and as he imprisons himself in a run-down hotel and attempts to connect with "the common man", the only people he encounters are the twitchy "Chet" (Steve Buscemi), the receptionist, and his unnerving neighbour, played with disturbing amiability by John Goodman.

Stylistically owing a huge debt to David Lynch's Eraserhead (from the industrial drone of the hotel down to John Turturro's hairstyle), the film can be read in any number of ways - vitriolic satire on Hollywood; character study of writer's block; blackly comic analysis of Nazi influence in the 1940s; even a twisted take on the biblical (or perhaps Satanic) epic. Crammed full of inventive and frequently nightmarish ideas - the wallpaper in Fink's room slowly peeling down to reveal a worrying flesh underneath - the film bravely moves into less familiar territory in its second act, and provides one of the most stunning, if perplexing, finales I have seen in some time.
4/5

The Host

2007-10-02T20:40:00.000+01:00

This Korean monster flick (literally translated as "Monster") was a box-office smash back home, and has received critical adoration the world over. In addition to this, it has been wilfully rejected by horror aficionados, who fail to realise that it was never really aimed at them in the first place.

Concerning the story of a giant mutant tadpole/fish born in the Han River, filled with toxic formaldehyde, its a tremendously entertaining and riveting blend of teen-horror flick gore, human drama and black comedy, with a cunning line in political satire too. Kang-ho Song is terrific as the simple-minded father of Hyun-seo, the little girl kidnapped by the monster and kept in his sewer lair for food. The plot follows him and his family as they attempt to rescue the child, but uniquely the main obstacle in their path is not the monster itself, but the paranoia and bureaucracy that its arrival prompts.

Indeed, the film refuses to conform to any genre stereotypes on a number of levels. Firstly, the monster is not hidden, waiting to be revealed from darkness at the climax (as in virtually all horror films post-Alien and Jaws). Instead, it is shown in broad daylight in full shot right from the start; this does not diminish its impact. Secondly the characters are all deeply flawed, making stupid mistakes (such as miscounting the number of bullets in a gun) that frequently have tragic costs. The film also subverts the notion of 'form a plan, preparation, enactment' by repeatedly throwing in innovative and unexpected plot twists.

As an entire film, The Host in fact feels much more like one of George A. Romero's Living Dead films than other monster flicks from Jaws to Ringu. Nonetheless, it plunders what it wants from these, and creates a truly original and hugely entertaining piece of subversive blockbuster entertainment.
4/5

Hostel

2007-09-30T13:39:00.000+01:00

This abysmal progenitor of the non-existent 'torture porn' genre is a cynical, xenophobic and misogynistic mess of a badly plotted flesh-and-gore horror film, which in no way deserves any of the success or attention it gained on release. Exec-produced by Quentin Tarantino, who evidently loves the terrible films to which his work so frequently pays homage, the mind boggles as to how such a distinguished film maker could put his name to such a poorly-scripted rubbish dump of a movie, and as to how director Eli Roth is somehow being proclaimed the saviour of American horror with such uninspiring and frankly tame adolescent fantasy.

The plot, as we are forced to refer to it, follows American backpacker Jay Hernandez and his clearly soon-to-be-dead companions, a fellow American and a ridiculously sex-mad drifter from Iceland, as they blunder their way across a Europe populated entirely by stoned glamour models. Roth may claim the film as an indictment of ignorant American sensibilities abroad, but attempts to use this as a shield against his own incredibly blunt and bizarre realisation of Slovakia as a pit of hell, inhabited only by evil, beautiful prostitutes, violent, twisted German businessmen and feral packs of murderous children is offensive.

More offensive still is the sickening mound of stupidity we are force-fed through the characters' cataclysmicly dumb actions. Oh, there's a youth hostel near Bratislava filled with beautiful women who are horny for American men? Yes, I believe you, sinister pimp, lets trot off on a merry expedition over there. Oh, my friends have disappeared mysteriously, I know, I'll ask that suspicious prostitute who drugged me if she can help. She can? Brilliant! I'll just follow her into this ominous old warehouse surrounded by shady business and from which all those screams are emanating. Oh, whoops.

Perhaps most infuriating is that Roth is clearly a talent, to which the few spatterings of genius attest (the baffled receptionist in the titular hostel, the monetary use of bubblegum) and it is impossible to understand why he so deliberately goes out of his way to blow gaping holes through his own film. Jay Hernandez is a good actor (as he showed in the underrated Crazy/Beautiful) but has little to do here apart from grin flirtatiously and then scream as his fingers are chainsawed off.

Indeed, the torture scenes are surprisingly tame, given the controversy at time of release. There is only one full one, in which the other American is drilled to bits (killing off the only interesting sub-plot, and conforming to the tired cliché of kill those who give in to sex), and the other bits here and there are generally mostly off screen violence. In fact, everything here you will have seen before. If you want to see a grimy, horrific film, watch Se7en. If you want to see gore, watch Braindead. Hell, if you want to see eyeball-related violence (the supposedly unique selling point of Hostel) then watch Un Chien Andalou, a film which by seventy-six years predates this ill-conceived, narcissistic and adolescent pile of cinematic excrement.
1/5

Ran

2007-09-29T11:35:00.000+01:00

Not so long ago, I used to think of the 1980s as a cultural void. In music and cinema, the relative golden era of the 1970s had given way to brainless commercialistic drivel. But then I realised it was actually the golden age of the alternative, the underground, the hard-to-find gems nestled in among the post-Star Wars, post-pop detritus. Suddenly, I connected with music in a new way, listening to The Smiths, New Order, Pixies and R.E.M. And in cinema, I found the birth of independent American cinema (in Alex Cox's Repo Man) as well as a wave of auteurs such as David Lynch and Peter Greenaway.

All of this was an act of profound realisation and also profound ignorance. Ignoring the mess in the English-language, world cinema was as much a source of originality and excellence as ever. Ran, maestro Akira Kurosawa's last epic, is one such example. Shorter than such lengthy epics as Seven Samurai, it is a tale most recognisable to non-Japanese audiences as that of King Lear, transplanted to feudal Japan. A king divides his land between three sons, the youngest of whom calls the decision foolish and is banished. However, it becomes clear that he fears only for his father, and is proved right when civil war breaks out between the other two sons.

The story was initially developed as a twist on the traditional parable of Mōri Motonari, who gave each of his sons an arrow to break, which they did. He then gave them three arrows together, and they were unable to break them, thus demonstrating their united strength. In Ran, the youngest son ably demonstrates that even together the arrows can be snapped.

There is so much that could be written about Ran without ever passing judgement on it. The use of primary colours (one each for the three sons) and their comparison with blood, sunlight and so on; the amazing visual impact of the King losing his mind (and possible comparisons with Kurosawa's own deranged attempt to secure his legacy); the phenomenal, exciting and bloody battle sequences so powerful that their effect is still felt today in, for example, Peter Jackson's The Lord of The Rings trilogy.

Ultimately, it is the final image that most haunts. The war is over, and the Shakespearean tragedy has taken its toll, leaving a blind young man stood on a precipice, uncertain of how to find his way home. You leave the film with a sense of loss that is intangible, but stays with you for days.
5/5

Shadow of a Doubt

2007-09-28T12:10:00.001+01:00

This wonderful thriller from 1943 is a mid-period masterpiece from director supreme Alfred Hitchcock. His sixth American production since Rebecca only three years earlier, it was regarded by the auteur as his personal favourite, and it is not hard to see why. Neither is it hard to see why it is so often overlooked in favour of other masterpieces such as Psycho, Rear Window or The 39 Steps.

The subject matter here is dark and perhaps more psychological than other examples of his work from this period. Joseph Cotten plays Charlie Oakley, a suspicious character on the run from the law. He goes to stay with his sister's family, whose daughter, also called Charlie (played by Teresa Wright), feels a pseudo-telepathic link with her mysterious uncle. This is not overstated; merely, she feels they share a connection akin to twins, though to the modern viewer this relationship may feel a tad more unhealthy than that.

Shot in inky black and white, the film's aesthetic is dark and yet never murky, a decided contrast to the bright clarity of Rebecca. There is a vaguely surreal feel to some of the plot - the girl's father and his colleague pass the time by discussing diverse and grim ways to murder each other. The surface tranquility of the Californian suburb in which the family live is gradually disturbed, revealing the unrest underneath; a pair of men who may be investigating the elder Charlie turn up asking the family about their apparent normality, a concept the younger Charlie cannot bear. Not until the final act does the tension break, as Charlie's suspicions of her Uncle finally come to a head, and yet we are not treated to a trademark Hitchcock showdown, rather the denouement is abrupt and deliberately unsatisfying.

Innovative in both its direction and plot, the film is blessed with a terrific script by renowned writer Thornton Wilder. As an interesting side note, this film probably most directly shows Hitchcock's influence on David Lynch, whose Blue Velvet borrows somewhat from the plot and themes here.

So, an assured and innovative masterpiece from the master of suspense, and a film both psychologically and visually well ahead of its time.
5/5

The Matador

2007-09-25T11:02:00.002+01:00

This 2005 black comedy serves as a vehicle for erstwhile (then current) James Bond actor Pierce Brosnan to distance himself from his defining role by parodying the spy. He is the middle-aged, alcoholic hitman, complete with comedy moustache, who finds himself in a mid-life crisis, unable to kill with the coldness he once had. Greg Kinnear is a nervy businessman who encounters Brosnan on a trip in Mexico City, and the two strike up an unlikely friendship.

Written and directed by Richard Shepard, the film's plot is rather clichéd. Its difficult not to cringe when you realise that Brosnan's character has turned up on Kinnear's doorstep halfway through, leading to a predictable fish-out-of-water farce in which Kinnear's shy wife (Hope Davis) reveals a desire for guns. There are also a couple of twists towards the end, pretty much all unfortunately predictable, and the spattering of irony doesn't really distract from the gaping holes in the plot. For my money, you either need to embrace the cliché, or avoid it all together.

Despite all these (major) problems, the film is actually a real treat to watch, almost entirely due to the two male leads, and the bizarre undercurrent of homo-eroticism in their relationship. Pierce Brosnan is amusing as the loser hitman with no friends, and shows once again how underused he was in the Bond franchise (check out The Thomas Crown Affair or The Tailor Of Panama). Similarly, Greg Kinnear demands more attention from Hollywood. A previous Oscar nominee, its something of a mystery as to why his profile is so low, and he proves himself as a good comic straight man here.

Ultimately, The Matador is not essential viewing, but is an enjoyable slice of rather brainless comedy, greatly improved by some fine comic acting.
3/5

Kids Return

2007-09-22T22:23:00.001+01:00

This character study from Japanese writer/director Takeshi Kitano is a measured consideration of the alienating effects of the end of adolescence. One of my favourite directors, Kitano's films have an annoying habit of being impossible to find on DVD, VHS or TV anywhere, and such is the case with Kids Return. Having managed to rent it as a download, I was pleased to discover that this low-key film is a treat among Kitano's strong work.

The story concerns two friends, who misspend their time at school getting into fights and stealing dinner money. As their education falls apart, they each take up boxing, and one eventually moves away into the local yakuza gang. As ever for Kitano, the action and acting is understated. However, for the first time here the camera is somewhat dynamic, a move away from the static tableau that dominated earlier works such as Violent Cop and Sonatine. The score is provided by Joe Hisaishi, and is uncharacteristically dependent on electric instruments; it's still a winner, though.

As his first film following a horrendous traffic collision that left Kitano semi-paralysed, it begins a loose trilogy of contemplative pieces that move away from the violent downward spirals in his first films. Kids Return lays the template for a formula that would be perfected in his following two masterpieces, Hana-Bi and Kikujiro.

Its as good an entry point into the Kitano catalogue as any, and as such is strongly recommended for those with an interest in Eastern cinema that avoids the vaguely trendy 'extreme' scene, or simply for anyone who wishes to see a well-realised, moving drama.
4/5

Princess Mononoke

2007-09-22T12:46:00.001+01:00

Princess Mononoke, to give this Japanese anime feature its English title, is the strongest of the films of Hayao Miyazaki (Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle) that I have yet to see. Set in sixteenth century Japan, it follows the story of Prince Ashitaka, cursed from a battle with a terrifying boar-demon, on his quest to cure himself, and the encounters he has with the industrial, personified in trigger happy Lady Eboshi, and the wild, in the eponymous 'Monster Princess'.

At over two hours in length, this is no throwaway children's adventure story, and indeed the PG rating it received in Britain in no way anticipates the violence in the story; blood is a recurring theme, and there is a great deal of dismemberment and decapitation, as well as a hoard of terrifying demons and gods of the natural realm. Developed from Miyazaki's original script, the story is typically unpredictable and features a host of, to Western eyes at least, completely innovative encounters. It possibly reads as a parable for the destruction of nature by industry, although the symbolism and realisation is so complex as to feel that Miyazaki has produced a complete, epic fairy tale, with all the hidden meanings and emotions thus inherent.

As ever with Studio Ghibli productions, the animation is astonishing throughout. The life breathed into the natural world is amazing, from the huge lush landscapes down to the tiny details. There is also a terrific sense of pace to many of the action scenes, unusual in animation for often featuring a roving camera that swoops and flies along with the action. The whole thing is held together by a lush, sweeping score from the inimitable Joe Hisaishi. Moving from minimalist ticks and thumps to sweeping orchestral mayhem, he cements his place as one of the best composers of film music in the world today.

As a point of principle I watched this film in Japanese, subtitled in English, but for those disinclined to do so, there is apparently one of the finest examples of translation and dubbing in modern cinema, so this should be no reason not to watch.

Many will be familiar with Spirited Away, the Oscar-winning fantasy animation that was to be Studio Ghibli's next production. In that film, a modern-day setting was juxtaposed with the fantasy world into which the central character is drawn. While brilliant, I personally feel that Miyazaki's best is when these elements are distilled into their own stories. My Neighbour Totoro is a delightful fantasy about childhood that is given a completely non-fantastical setting, inhabited by strange creatures such as the 'Kittenbus'. Princess Mononoke steals Totoro's crown as my favourite Miyazaki feature, and indeed may be the best animated film I have ever seen.
5/5

Inland Empire

2007-09-20T15:43:00.001+01:00

The career of David Lynch has, much like his films, been profoundly unpredictable and reliably surreal. His feature debut, Eraserhead is a landmark piece of American cinema, a surreal, post-apocalyptic black comedy horror that plays out like some form of demented silent picture, and was followed with the superb character study of The Elephant Man. From that point, via a few mis-steps (Dune) and light-hearted blips (The Straight Story and TV's Twin Peaks), and taking in such masterpieces as Blue Velvet and Mulholland Drive, his output has been ever darker psycho-sexual thrillers with a biting surreal edge. By 2001's Mulholland Drive, the Lynch format had become developed enough to experiment outside of the usual strictures of character and plot.

And so, in Inland Empire, Lynch finally returns to the dizzying experimentation of Eraserhead, in the process seeming to complete a loose trilogy with Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive. Shot over five years on digital film, this three-hour mystery is incredibly complex, with a myriad of interweaving plot lines moving through different realities between Los Angeles, Poland and the set of a terrifying sitcom about talking rabbits. A potentially impenetrable nightmare of non-sequiturs and surreal musical interludes, the film is held together by a magnificent, career-defining central performance from Laura Dern. Perhaps the word here should be in plural - her character morphs from declining Hollywood starlet to Southern wife to battered woman to whore and back again several times, all played with a believable combination of strength and frailty.

To discuss the plot of Inland Empire is to miss the point somewhat (at least on the first or second viewing), but essentially it follows the story of an actress becoming trapped inside the character she plays in the strangely named film "On High In Blue Tomorrows", itself a remake of an unfinished, presumably Polish film in which the leads were murdered. The first third roughly follows this storyline, and her embarkation on an affair with leading man Justin Theroux. However, Dern's character soon loses her mind, and we are dragged into nearly an hour of surreal interludes, some comical, some disurbing, all surreal and unexplained. Eventually some form of plot re-emerges and a conclusion of sorts (albeit a baffling and inexplicable one) ties things together before the brilliant end credits leave you with a smile on your face.

Many have turned their nose up at what is, to the uninitiated, a wholly impenetrable and confusing experience. And yet even on that count the film is a success. If nothing else, Lynch manages to convey a sense of mental breakdown. The film is technically brilliant, and personally I think his use of the digital film is extraordinary, although this does not perhaps have the visual beauty of many of his earlier films. The acting is excellent throughout, with the cast populated by a range of familiar faces (Jeremy Irons, Diane Ladd, William H. Macy) as well as Lynch's usual hoarde. Deserving of special mention is the superb sound design throughout, a delirious mix of industrial noise, jarring orchestration (courtesy regular collaborator Angelo Badalamenti) and pop culture references.

This is no entry point to the Lynch canon; newcomers should watch Blue Velvet or Mulholland Drive first. Inland Empire is, however, a treat for those who know what to expect; it delivers the completely unexpected.
5/5

Enter The Dragon

2007-09-19T16:37:00.001+01:00

Bruce Lee's final complete film, released six days after his death in 1973, is a puzzling affair. Iconic in many ways, it is almost completely responsible for the James Dean-esque degree of posthumous worship directed at Lee, and yet in many ways it is simply a straight forward action thriller, with only the added bonus of a handful of martial arts scenes. A sequence of stories about Lee's behaviour on set, and a myriad of conspiracy theories around his death, add weight to a plot that is a little more lightweight than you might expect.

Watching it today, its hard to escape how similar in feel it is to many '70s action films. In particular it owes a great debt to the Bond series, as the story meanders along the lines of an evil criminal overlord, who even comes equipped with a pair of Dr No-like steel hands (usefully exchanged for claws at one point) living on an island training an evil army for no particular reason, and the spy sent in to stop him.

Another touchstone I rather suspect is 1971's Shaft, a film which I have not seen but the influence of which I can still recognise. This includes a considerably greater level of violence than the Bond films, as well as a soundtrack that repeatedly strays into soul-funk territory. There is some attempt at social commentary which doesn't really come off (the bizarre sequence in which a slave trade ring is exposed is truly odd, and it boggles the mind to consider how emaciated drunks could overpower a trained army, but hey) and the supporting cast is an uneasy mix of American C-listers and under-used local talent.

As is to be expected, the main reason to watch the film is Lee, whose electrifying performance and lightning-fast, violent fight choreography has to be seen to be believed. There is no over-reliance on extended, escalating 'mano-a-mano' action (there is one example of this, seemingly later stolen for use in The Man With The Golden Gun), and Lee's hero is pleasingly reserved in his use of one-liners. The mask of Shaolin monk quickly slips, and the combination of his crazy eyes and trademark high-pitched yelps is frequently terrifying.

Not a great film then, but a good piece of entertainment held together by a singularly powerful and peculiar central performance, which was tragically the last of one of the twentieth century's greatest lost icons.
3/5

United 93

2007-09-15T18:07:00.000+01:00

That the first important and successful piece of cinema about the events of the 11th of September, 2001, should be written and directed by an Englishman seems to suggest a certain unease in American film-makers to tackle a subject that has become taboo. Paul Greengrass here follows the story of both the titular aircraft, the only one of four hijacked that day not to reach its destination, and air traffic control attempting to understand what is happening.

The danger of recreating any sort of tragic event that still burns in recent memory is not that lines will be crossed, but rather that caution can ruin any sense of cinematic worth. Thankfully, Greengrass treads a careful line that panders both to cinéastes and those with emotional attachment. Some of the dialogue is lifted from actual phone calls made by passengers on the flight, but there is no sense of morbid fascination with these calls from the dead. Well acted (including the FAA's operations manager as himself) and unobtrusively shot, the film's dispassionate focus on accuracy builds an excellent tension, whilst at the same time avoiding either over-sentimentality or crassness. There are no manipulative swells of music to pinpoint the moments of tragedy, but nor is there any sensationalisation of the violence inherent in the plot.

One minor sticking point is the timidity of the only European passenger. He and he alone repeatedly insists that no action should be taken against the hijackers, assuming they will land somewhere and be ransomed. Its lazy scripting that has no basis in the reality of anything that is known about the flight.

A powerful film that reaches far beyond the "dramatic reconstruction" sensibilities of most films its type, United 93 is an artistic success that also succeeds in capturing the atmosphere of a pivotal historic moment.
4/5

V For Vendetta

2007-09-07T12:13:00.000+01:00

What a peculiar, infuriating mess this British-set, American-made graphic novel adaptation is. Set in a future London ruled by a Big Brother-esque John Hurt through his grip on the media, it concerns the pseudo-fascist government being undermined by the actions of "V", played by Hugo Weaving (and perhaps also Rome's James Purefoy?), an eloquent, thespian Guy Fawkes lookalike with a love of explosions and kung fu. This preposterous setup is confounded by a terribly drawn analogy with the original Guy Fawkes, which paints him as some sort of 17th Century Che Guevara and completely ignores any of the multitude of conspiracy theories.

The novel apparently centres on the clash between fascism and anarchy, an interesting and reasonably unexplored area of political analysis. In the film there is no such consideration; the state is certainly fascist but there is no attempt to explain the cause or motives of such a system, rather it is a pantomime villain embodied by (the, as ever, brilliant) John Hurt. On the anarchist's side, there is no cohesion to V's political doctrine, only a perfunctory attempt to tack on a sense of rebellion. The fact that the encircled V symbol used repeatedly so closely resembles the symbol for anarchy seems completely lost on the film-makers.

On the positive side, Natalie Portman in the lead role, V's would-be apprentice, is as interesting to watch as ever. While her accent is somewhat suspect, and tends to drift around a bit, the sweetness and ultimate toughness that she portrays is extremely watchable. Hugo Weaving is given little acting opportunity, permanently glued behind a gurning mask, but neatly wraps his tongue round his complex dialogue. Its nice to actually see some local actors as well, especially a rare appearance from Stephen Fry in an interesting role. Stephen Rea adds unneeded but efficient comic relief as well as a sense of pace, playing a conflicted detective.

I had been somewhat suspicious of the positive critical reception the film recieved, given the Wachowski brothers last couple of films - while The Matrix remains a (post-)modern classic and a personal favourite, the two sequels were uninspired, insipid pieces of blockbuster fodder that I only wish I could describe as brainless. The fact that they attempted to fill the scripts with the same philosophical and, in particular, religious symbolism present in the first only served to hammer the final nails in their respective coffins. In V for Vendetta's case I am again, and to my ongoing horror, forced to agree with Jonathan Ross's disapproval of what I see as a total artistic failure, rescued only by a strong cast, and relying at its core on a huge, unbelievable twist which is in no way explained or justified.
2/5

The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover

2007-09-06T09:53:00.000+01:00

I must confess this is the first Peter Greenaway film I have seen. I had come to accept that the high points of British cinema would always live in the shadow of the 'angry young men' of the British New Wave. That gritty social realism and the prevailing sense that "its grim up North" were as good as it got. Grim in Yorkshire in Brassed Off. Even worse in Edinburgh in Trainspotting. So this absurdist masterpiece of black comedy from 1989 came as something of a shock to the system.

Michael Gambon gives a brilliant, repulsive performance as the titular criminal, constantly bullying and beating his wife, a never-better Helen Mirren. The film is set almost entirely in and around the high society restaurant "Les Hollandais", and different parts (the kitchen, the toilets etc.) are represented by different colours, with the costumes of characters moving around often changing to match the decor. To say that the film is bold or a visual feast can not convey how rich each frame is, loaded with rich food and striking costume and set design.

The plot progresses on the basis that the Wife begins a secret, initially silent affair, in the restaurant under the nose of her violent husband. There is a great deal of nudity which was apparently controversial at the time, but it is obvious today that Greenaway is painting decadence in the style of Renaissance paintings, of which the nude is obviously a central icon. Indeed the entire film highlights the director's painter's eye (think Kubrick's Barry Lyndon or Lynch's Blue Velvet), with much of the action seen in long, wide shots, where the camera drifts back and forth along the length of the restaurant. Special mention must go to the music. A pseudo-classical score by Michael Nyman rises and falls along a strong central theme, a technique I can only think of being used so extensively in Requiem for a Dream.

The film is obviously a technical success. But it is also extremely engaging, carried by a delicious mix of disturbing black comedy and shocking, violent action. The acting is excellent throughout, and the cast contains a smattering of the cream of British acting talent that would achieve success in the next decade. Its impossible to take your eyes off the sultry, refined Mirren, nor the loud, unpredictable and vulgar Gambon, and as the film spirals towards it magnificent, horrific finale, I was completely transfixed.

A truly independent and artistic British film, The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover is a complete success on every level. The squeamish may find it too hard to watch, and those who last to the finale will be shocked at the power of Greenaway's imagery in the final scenes. As a piece of satire on Thatcherite society, the film packs as much bite as the rest of this delicious treat.
5/5