A Zed & Two Noughts

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

The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover

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