Review of the Year

The Gems, Duds and Heroes of Cinema in 2011

And so another year rolls by and so another list is compiled. I don't know about you dear reader but I enjoy this time of year to look back, evaluate and rejoice/cringe at the last 12 months of film. I like to read all the periodicals and magazines' takes on the movie winners of the year then I usually get angry that one of my favourite has been left out of the list, thereby I then create my own. So here goes.....

The top ten gems of the year

10) Crazy Stupid Love

The best example of the non rom-com, rom-com of the year, Crazy Stupid Love was the surprise unexpected treat of the year for me. Not one for chick flicks, this film managed to be romantic and funny but with pathos and honesty to boot, elevating it from the usual humdrum fluff of Hollywood onscreen relationships. Dealing with a myriad of characters, circling within each others narrative strands, the film manages to make each storyline, whether heartbreaking, funny or

cringe worthy, worth the screen time from Steve Carrell's sad sack dumped husband to Ryan Gosling's womaniser to the awkward teenage babysitter with the improbable crush. Carrell is particularly affecting when trading off the laughs and instead using those sad puppy dog eyes to bittersweet effect, much like his performance in Little Miss Sunshine. Crazy Stupid Love should be seen by more people as a refreshing antidote to the usual bland, over sugary romantic comedies.

9) Meeks Cutoff

Kelly Reichardt continues her ascendancy as one of the most visionary female directors in cinema with her fifth feature Meeks Cutoff. The film is set in 1845 as a band of settlers try to traverse the Oregon desert but find themselves lost and at the misguided mercy of their inept guide Meek as they try to find their way and survive the harsh conditions. Full of stunning cinematography and brooding ethereal long shots, Meeks Cutoff is a beautifully brutal film of the importance of choices and consequences in a simpler yet tougher time. Those familiar with Reichardt's work will know she is concerned with the minor details, with extracting significance from the minimal, leading to a slow pace, but one that is hypnotic, reflective and discerning. Though the final scene will infuriate many who like a clear resolution, it is an ending that resonates true and will stay with the viewer for days.

8) Warrior

The reasons that I liked Warrior so much is all the reasons why I shouldn't have liked Warrior so much. It is contrived, predictable, sentimental and overtly manipulative, the very things that usually have me running for the aisle and then for the exit. Yet this film managed to take all the bad cinematic plot devices and make them into an unashamedly rousing entertaining air punching joy of a movie. Like its character's Warrior speaks to our most primal instincts within film and sometimes you just have to give in and go with your gut feeling. That and any film that features songs by The National can't go wrong in my books.

7) Tree of Life

A film to confound, astound and divide opinion like no other. By now if you have seen The Tree of Life you will no doubt know which camp you fall into, however there is no denying the beauty of this film, that it co exists in the same cinematic timeline as Transformers ans The Chipmunks (though not likely in the same cinema complex) is both bewildering and inspiring. Terrence Malick's existential, artistic tour de force is a compelling, enriching experience, one that may not want to be repeated but will never be forgotten.

6) Drive

Undoubtedly the coolest film of the year (this sounds like a bad thing but hey we need to acknowledge the cool sometimes), Drive burst onto cinema screens with its 80s pulp aesthetic and with the hippest soundtrack of 2011. Adapted from the novel by James Sallis and directed by Danish auteur Nicholas Winding Refn, Drive created a violent sucker punch for film goers and also provided the perfect vehicle (ahem) for Ryan Gosling to cement his status as the intense leading man of choice for the discerning creative director. A tale of softly blossoming romance then ferocious disruptive vengeance, the film was a deafening showcase of style and substance.

Expect more euro cool from the dynamic duo of Refn and Gosling in their next project when they take on sci fi classic Logan's Run.

5) Bridesmaids

The mammoth hit that no one really say coming. What sounded like a nightmare to many on paper and those unfortunate enough to still be carrying the scars of Bride Wars, turned out to be funniest film of the year. Some critics have complained about the film's championing of women actually being funny when us intelligent/feminist/open minded people have known this all along, but any film that makes Hollywood sit up and taste the sugared almonds should be cause for celebration in my eyes. That a film with all female leads that are not defined by their need for a

love interest (ok there is a love interest in this film but the main arch is the women's friendship) is a step forward in an often stereotypical movie landscape.

The infamous Bridal shop scene is cited as the funniest moment of the film and whilst this is hilarious, for me the best and most cringe worthy of the film is that of the engagement party speech. It encompasses and highlights the main themes of Bridesmaids and actually shows that female friendship can be fraught with rivalry and jealousy in a time when you should be happiest for your best friend.

4) Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

And now for some class. Tomas Alfredson's adaptation of John le Carre's famous novel brought to the screen the most elegant and impressive cast of 2011 all working at the top of their game to recreate the murky, smoky world of 1970s espionage. A pitch perfect Gary Oldman plays George Smiley, coaxed out of semi retirement to uncover a Soviet spy within MI6's ranks and so leads to a tangled web of deception, deceit and murder. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is the kind of grown up film making that is sadly largely absent from cinema screens in present times, amidst an age of 3D gimmickry and sloppy sequels. The film demands your attention to piece together its intricate interweaving plot but also commands your respect by accomplishing a taut intelligent thriller that many cinema viewers want and so sorely miss in the often overrun dumbing down multiplexes of today.

3) We need to talk about Kevin

Lynne Ramsay's astonishing adaptation of Lionel Shriver's controversial novel brought to the screen two of the best performances of the year and one of the best films of the year. Tilda Swinton excels as the post natally depressed mother of the son from hell, while newcomer Ezra Miller is repulsively mesmerising as Kevin, the 'context' of the movie. Often shot like a dream which then cruelly yields to a nightmare We need to talk about Kevin is a harrowing masterful piece of film making, tackling subjects which are still taboo in our society. Ramsay's direction is intense, at times shot like a horror movie, but also composed and ethereal, lingering on the smallest details and highlighting the fragility of life and how easily this can be ruined in a heartbeat. Uncompromising and afflicting beautiful, this is thought provoking cinema at its best.

Joint 1) Blue Valentine

When it came to choosing between my top 2 films of the year, I couldn't decide whether to go with my head or my heart? Then I remembered it was my list so to hell with it, the 2 would hold the position together. So first comes the film that had my heart, Blue Valentine, Derek Cianfrance's achy breaky love story of Ryan Gosling and Michelle William's couple on the verge of relationship ruin. Filmed in heartbreaking fashion, we see the couple in the worst part of their romance and through flashbacks see the tender beginnings of their love story. Shot through with honesty and a biting edge absent from most romantic dramas, Blue Valentine depicts the subtle anguish that befalls many relationships with Gosling and Williams on achingly raw form. It also boasts a beautifully fitting score from Grizzly Bear that enhances Cianfrances dreamy yet melancholy aesthetic. The film may be too real for some used to the more saccharine version of romance but its sincere nature is what makes it all the more devastating. Sad swooning cinema to die for.

Joint 1) The Skin I Live In

Wow is all that can be said about The Skin I Live In. No other film this year shocked, entranced and repulsed me more than Pedro Almodovar's latest. A heady concoction of Horror, Science Fiction and romantic obsession, The Skin I Live In took body manipulation to a whole other level with the twisted tale of Antonio Banderas' controversial surgeon and the women he holds captive in his mansion whilst perfecting a new form of skin. From this opening gambit comes a twisty tale of serpentine proportions that is repellent yet entirely entrancing, the deeper the rabbit hole goes, the more compelling it becomes. Almodovar is a director working at the top of his game, able to weave through genres with deft skill and playful creative abandonment. Banderas meanwhile has never been better or more dangerously brooding whilst newcomer Elena Anaya is a beautiful beguiling presence. The Skin I Live In is an extreme experience, one that disorientates and bewitches, one to get under your very own skin and literally stay there for days to come.

The Duds of the Year

Your Highness- I expected good things from this, since I enjoyed Pineapple Express and it starred the goofy but pretty James Franco. Ok so it was never going to compete with fellow fantasy adventure comedy The Princess Bride but still I was unprepared for the heap of crap that Your Highness turned out to be. Unfunny, extremely sexist (but doesn't Portman play an ass kicking warrior I hear you cry- why yes she does, one with an inflated cleavage and a bum she likes flashing) and most painful of all, a waste of good talent. It is like they let Danny McBride ad lib all the way through and the director didn't have the heart to tell him the jokes were not hitting the mark. An extreme low point.

Paul- Bloated, self indulgent film making starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, who follow Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz with this painful miss fire. Perhaps director Edgar Wright, absent from this film, is the missing ingredient to making this duo funny because left to their own devices in this fan boys wet dream of a movie, they are irritating and bland.

Unknown- Liam Neeson continues his career as the thinking woman's muscle for hire in this latest slice of action/thriller tomfoolery. We all know Taken was a guilty pleasure that first showcased Neeson's ability to kick ass however trying to recreate that act with a lazy Bourne style rip off was a mistake. Neeson screams paycheck, January Jones sleepwalks through her role and the lovely Diana Kruger really deserves better.

The Adjustment Bureau- Based on a Phillip K Dick story, this Matt Damon vehicle could have good with its interesting central premise. However it turned out to be a completely pointless

dull film that could not execute its initial set up. Damon seemed to be on auto pilot and again in a year that contained quite a few lazy lady performances, Emily Blunt looks comatose despite being cast as a dancer. There is little chemistry between the leads which means you care little about the romance and the fate of their relationship and even less about the botched attempt at thoughtful Sci-fi. File under wasted opportunity.

Women of the Year

Kristen Wiig

Bubbling under the cinematic surface for a while after her regular stints on Saturday Night Live, with kooky roles in Whip It! and Adventureland and consistently stealing scenes in a number of cameos (Ghost Town, Knocked Up) Wiig hit the big time with Bridesmaids.

Funny, pretty, but not in an overtly sexy way, and talented (co-writing Bridesmaids), she is the new girl crush for many women. A defiant knack for comedy timing but also to deliver fragile humility, Wiig has a bucket load of skill and is not afraid to be self deprecating for the cause. Expect a lot more for this lady.

Tilda Swinton

People who know me, know I have been championing the actress for some time but my love affair with Tilda hasn't always been an easy one. When I first saw her in Orlando I was unsure of her, her distinctive looks and androgynous demeanour was something I wasn't used to but these are the reasons I love her now. That and her unflinching character portrayals and her no nonsense attitude to fame and pretty much everything else. In 2011 for me she gave the best female performance of the year in We need to talk about Kevin, a brave, unglamourous depiction of a reluctant mother who ends up losing everything. Swinton is incredible, allowing herself to be drab and at times highly unsympathetic, her face can hold a thousand emotions without saying a word. Having already won a best supporting actress Oscar for her brilliant performance in Michael Clayton, if she doesnt at least get a nod for Best Actress for Kevin, then serious fingers will be pointed at Hollywood. Yet knowing Swinton, she doesnt care much for these things anyway.

Michelle Williams

Michelle Williams has been on my radar for the past few years. Managing to break away from the binds of Dawsons Creek with her perfomance in Brokeback Mountain, she continued to traverse through films, finding herself more attuned to Independent films where she excels. Still reeling from her intensely naturalistic turn in Wendy and Lucy, this year she gave two of the best performances of the year. In Meeks Cutoff she combined tangible humanity with instinctual determination, showing girl power was alive and kicking in 1845. But it was her turn in Blue Valentine that really stole my heart this year, again like Swinton, she finds herself at times in an unsympathic role (after all who could fall out of love with Ryan Gosling?) being the half of the couple who seems more resilent to fighting for their doomed relationship. But she is also tender, adorable, vunerable and entirely human, her sad expressive eyes conveying what a thousand love up/out of love women have felt. Williams is now courting the mainstream more, most recently in My Week with Marilyn and though I will probably pretty much watch anything she is in (she is THAT good) I hope she stays true to her indie roots for which she can shine in brave roles.

Review- We need to talk about Kevin

The idea that a mother would struggle to love her child is a subject that seems taboo in society, there is still, in some cases, a reluctance in women to accept they may have succumb to Post Natal depression in the time that is supposed to be filled with joy. But even if the mother does grapple with her lack of maternal instincts for the newborn, and some resentment for the new bundle of responsibilities is laid bare, does this lay the foundation for the child to become a monster? Or they destined to align with evil no matter what the environment?

Lynne Ramsay's adaptation of We need to talk about Kevin, from the bestselling book by Lionel Shriver navigates this battlefield of a mother's love for a truly unlovable child. Tilda Swinton plays Eva Khatchadourian, a woman living with, and reliving the events leading up to, and following her son, Kevin's massacre of fellow students at his high school. The film begins with Eva at a low ebb, jobless, sleepwalking through life with a room full of pills and wine bottles. Her house is vandalised with red paint and she is verbally abused daily by the parents of the children that her son killed and injured. Even the respite of a new job is short-lived with the daily vitriol that consumes every thing she does.

Ramsay's film moves from the present to the past, cutting between what was and what is now, scenes appear like longing memories, others jarring with past pain and harsh realities return of the relationship between Eva and her son Kevin and what lead to his terrible actions. From the beginning of his conception it is clear Eva sits ill at ease with pregnancy, removed from her free spirited life as a travel writer, she now appears trapped, uncomfortable in antenatal classes,surrounded by bumps. The birth of Kevin is filmed like a scene from a horror movie with oblique angles and screams of pain and after the labour, Eva seems detached from the experience, unwilling to hold her newborn.

Once home, she struggles to stop Kevin from crying and various attempts to bond with her child are thwarted by his resilience to play along and his stubborn refusal to learn the word 'Mommy'. Only when dad Franklin (a sweet but naively dim-witted John C Reilly) returns home does the child come to life and converse with his father. Though Eva at first voices her discomfort with her role as a mother in her post natal depressive state, at one point Franklin catches Eva telling baby Kevin if he wasn't around she would be happy and living in France, she tries to connect to her child but there is something so inherently wrong with Kevin, something that no amount of withheld nurture could nature.

As Kevin grows up, through his toddler years, where he continually goads Eva with defiant acts, through to becoming a teenager, his disdain for his mother also grows with increasingly chilling behaviour, all the while still undetected by his father, culminating in the most ill advised Christmas present in history. If Shriver's novel had fallen into the wrong hands, this could have been played out as a cheap horror movie, the devil child terrorising his mother, and though there is an element of horror to the novels subject and, in turn the film, it is the heartbreaking context delivered to heartbreaking effect that elevates the film to agonising brilliance.

The film is one of the best examples of right director for the right material, Lynne Ramsay's art house sensibilities perforate the narrative with vivid imagery and dreamlike wounds. The colour red punctuates many of the images from the paint thrown on Eva's house, that she so metaphorically cannot completely clean away, to innards of sandwiches bursting with vibrant jam to the blood that defines Kevin's final sadistic act. The use of sound is particularly effective where subtlty reigns when it needs to and the use of songs have a bittersweet juxtaposition to what is unfolding on screen. If Ramsay is the right director, then Tilda Swinton is the right actress for the film, she is able to say show much with her face, without saying anything at all, quiet devastation etched on her features, she is fearless in her portrayal of Eva, unafraid to be exposed warts and all. Newcomer Ezra Miller, who plays the teenage Kevin, is a mesmerising screen presence, wholly repulsive in his treatment of his mother, yet unable to turn away from his hypnotic snide demeanor.

We need to talk about Kevin is a beautifully afflicting film, a tragedy composed with deft skill of direction, it is a story of suffering, guilt and the fragility of life. For some it will be the best advertisement for being careful with contraception, for others it will be a emotional reminder to cherish your loved ones and be thankful for everything you have.

Review-Contagion

In an average day, think about how many times you touch your face, doorknobs, surfaces and how many people you interact with and who have also touched similar public surfaces. Now think if there was a highly infectious virus was born into the environment, spreading with every touch, cough and contact. This is the question that Steven Soderbergh’s latest film Contagion asks and in doing so becomes the non horror ‘horror’ film of the year.

Contagion begins with the clever subtitle ‘Day 2’ leaving the audience and the characters in the dark as to what happened on Day 1, as a philandering wife Beth Emhoff (Gwyneth Paltrow) begins with a cough in Chicago airport on a stop off from her way back from Hong Kong. We see her travel home to her husband Mitch (Matt Damon) and son in Minneapolis, whilst also seeing the people she has come into contact with begin to fall seriously ill, and then Beth herself two days later suffers a seizure and dies from the unknown disease. This fatality becomes the catalyst for a chain of events from the initial outbreak of the virus, to attempts to contain it, to the widespread panic, which leads to social disorder and chaos and trying to find a vaccine for the disease. The narrative runs over several interconnecting plotlines- Dr Cheever (Laurence Fishburne) works for the Centre for Disease control and prevention, trying to grasp the severity of the virus and how to handle the impending crisis. He sends Dr Mears (Kate Winslet) an Epidemic Intelligence Officer to Minneapolis to investigate and to trace back. CDC Scientist Dr Hextall (Jennifer Ehle) tries desperately to first try to find the characteristics of the virus, to then find a vaccine against it, risking her own life in the process and motivated by her father, who is one of the infected. Dr Orantes (Marion Cotillard) is an epidemiologist from the World Health Organisation who travels to Hong Kong to identify patient zero and in turn, the origins of the virus. Jude Law plays the appropriately named Alan Krumwiede, a conspiracy theorist blogger, who tries to push a homeopathic cure onto desperate people for his own financial gain. And Matt Damon is the everyman ordinary Joe, a guy who appears immune from the virus yet has lost his wife and stepson, he is mourning whilst trying to protect his daughter, who has returned home, from harm.

Though this sounds like a lot to take in and to cover, Steven Soderbergh is a director who knows how to juggle a multi strand plot, as shown in previous film Traffic, and does with ease and clarity, the time frame of days, from the first outbreak helps to keep track of the events and also highlights how quickly it escalates. Attention is needed but the viewer is rewarded with a more grown up version of the medical disaster movie. It is the matter of fact manner direction that makes it all the more intensely real, rather than a Hollywood style race for the cure hero version. The film is boasted by a stellar cast who weave through the film, intertwining but never trying to outshine each other, theatrics are kept to a minimum, a rarity for a film with so many big names. Some, inevitably, are short changed on screen time, notably Cotillard whose narrative strand is left in limbo for some of the running time and the less said about Law’s dodgy American/Aussie accent the better.

Contagion may feel at times less like entertainment and more like a biological warning, but cinema’s functions are not always focused on the pleasure aspect. It is a smart and very scary film, one to make you squirm and to induce a sense of paranoia, one that may leave you a little wary next time you open a door in public.

Review- Troll Hunter

The mockumentary/found footage approach to a narrative has become a sub genre that lends itself to films with a modest or low budget, combating the restrictive productions with lo-fi techniques such as handheld cameras and naturalistic locations. The Blair Witch Project (1999) was the game changer of this new breed of cinema, using amateur footage and unknown, untrained actors. It also used the internet to begin an online back story that what the audience was seeing was actually real, enhancing the feeling that this was something that had taken place, or at the very least that this was based on a real legend. Since this milestone, there have been many movies, particularly in the horror genre that have used this approach such as Paranormal Activity, My Little Eye, Rec and The Last Exorcism combining the simple home movie/documentary style with shocks galore.

The latest addition to this cinematic persuasion is Troll Hunter, a Norwegian mockumentary film written and directed by André Øvredal which carries a horror element but also is a dark fantasy mixing with the mundane. Troll Hunter begins with news footage of a spat of illegal bear killings that have taken place in the Norwegian western countryside, three college students are filming the events and begin to follow a mysterious man named Hans (Otto Jespersen), whom they believe to be the poacher behind the bear slaying. Through their persistent trailing of Hans, they stumble across what he is really doing and who he really is, a Troll Hunter and although the crew of students are at first skeptical of what he has told them, despite one of them suffering a bite at the hands of a creature, they ask if they can join the hunt and film it, to which Hans agrees. What follows is expeditions with frantic shaky footage, tussles with Norwegian bureaucrats and really really big Trolls.

Troll Hunter is a curious unique watch, it uses the shock doc technique for all its worth and with creative aplomb, the modest budget uses the most of the stunning Norwegian landscape as its backdrop but also affords to create visually effective creatures amidst the amateur camera feel. The film also manages to incorporate humour into the mix, the scene where Hans tries to extract a blood sample from a troll, dressed like a iron welder from the past, looks like something from Monty Python and fun is poked at the folklore of trolls with references to 'Three Billy Goats Gruff'.

But what is most striking about Troll Hunter is the juxtaposition of the film from the everyday and the fairytale. As the hunter, Hans is a veteran of his job, his almost blase nature to what he does seems at odds with the risky, life threatening position he is constantly throwing himself into. Whenever he kills a troll, he has to fill out a form as part of his job working for TSS (Troll Security Service), it is this mundane activity, like that of an office pen pusher, that highlights how the mystical quality that the presence of a creature such as a troll should instill, has become so normal to Hans. Otto Jespersen is an imposing enigmatic presence as Hans, he commands the authority but also empathy, he is simply a man doing his job, albeit one of a very dubious quality, he is one who questions his role in the field he is in, his acceptance to let the students film his actions reveals his contempt for the government he works for. This also raises the morality of his, and the Norwegian governments actions to the audience, the trolls are simple creatures acting in nature as other creatures would, they hunt for prey, they fight for seniority and their inability to stay within the borderlines that have been drawn for them, makes them an issue for the government. If the trolls were any other endangered species, would it be inhuman to kill them off?

Part horror, part fantasy and part social satire, Troll Hunter takes a now familiar concept of the found footage film but uses it to new creative heights. Bursting with originality, Nordic folklore and a great central performance, Troll Hunter is a surprising gem, one that should be seen in its pure form before the Hollywood remake, that is already in progress, taints the entertaining original.

Drive

Directed by Nicholas Winding Refn

Neon pink titles, a strip of endless lights, mapping the roads ahead, electro beats careening over the images, as soon as Nicholas Winding Refn’s film Drive introduces itself (after a smart opening getaway chase sequence) we know we are in for a stylish, alternative ride.

Drive seemed to appear out of nowhere at this year’s Cannes film festival, it had no anticipated hype surrounding it and seemed to be a hard sell to seemingly unenthusiastic critics-indie darling Ryan Gosling drives around LA in a postmodern neo noir revenge movie. So far, so non-fussed. However after the screening, those critics were doing an ironic U-turn and took to the Internet to rave about the cinematic sucker punch they had just experienced.

Drive stars Ryan Gosling, a mysterious lone wolf, his origins are not explained and the fact that he is never named, only referred to as the kid by employer/mentor Shannon (Bryan Cranston), heightens the sense that this man is a vague soul, driving the streets in an emotional blankness. He works as a stunt driver for movies by day and provides getaway transportation for criminals at night, doing so with minimal fuss or feeling. But his equilibrium of detachment is broken when he begins a tentative friendship with his neighbour Irene (Carey Mulligan) and her son Benicio, he begins to feel, and perhaps, to imagine a future. But this is short lived when Irene’s husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) returns after a stint in prison and his homecoming proves to be a catalyst for a chain of events which starts with a bungled robbery and leads to double crossing, murder and revenge with the ‘Driver’ caught in the midst of destruction by his affection for Irene.
Adapted from the novel by James Sallis, Drive has all the makings of a pulpy B movie, and in some un-detrimental ways that is what it is, but the film also elevates past its potentially trashy origins to become a film of a whole lot of style yet also substance. This is merited by the combination of director Nicholas Winding Refn and star Gosling. The Danish director, whose previous film Bronson showed his deft touch for portraying visual violence, but also how to pull out a mesmerising performance from his lead, again here displays the flair for punctuating the narrative with flashes of intense bloodshed and balancing these with moments of tension but also tragic tenderness. From his leading man Gosling comes a performance that if they awarded Oscars for coolness, he would win hands down, as the ‘driver’ Gosling is strong, silent, brooding and completely charismatic. Not since Brad Pitt's eclectic threads in Fight Club has an actor managed to pull off such a dubious fashion choice, a gold silky bomber jacket emblazoned with a scorpion on the back, with some much style that it makes you wish you could wear such an item, despite the ridiculous reality of it. Recalling James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause or Steve McQueen in Bullitt, Gosling manages to convey more with a look than most dialogue can achieve, though behind the glacier vacant stare, there is also the flashes of longing, longing for a life with Irene, his puppy dog eyes soften, he is smitten, but we know it is a doomed affair. Winding Refn’s pacing of the narrative lets us know that it is doomed, a sense of foreboding discord hangs in the air, it navigates round the streets as the ‘Driver’ himself does. There will be no clean getaways which only makes the fleeting embrace between the ‘Driver’ and Irene, amidst all the ensuing violence, all the more heartbreaking.
Some critics have commented that Drive appears too cool for its own good, its sense of knowing is too calculated for their taste, but should we reject something that is inherently stylish just because it is unafraid to be what it needs and wants to be?
In one sardonic scene, mobster Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks) is explaining to the ‘Driver’ how he came to know Shannon from his time producing movies, he says ‘I used to make action movies, sexy stuff, the studios called them European’.
Perhaps we can take a leaf out of this European filmmaker’s book, to give cinema a jolt and make a movie with action that’s unashamedly retro but also damn sexy.

Review- Warrior

Directed by Gavin O'Connor

The sports/fractured family drama enjoyed a renaissance last year with David O Russell’s The Fighter, which went on to win Oscar awards for its supporting actors and critical plaudits galore . Following in its training booted footsteps comes Warrior directed by Gavin O’Connor, a film set around the arena of mixed martial arts where two estranged brother’s pasts in the sport, and with each other, collide to become their destiny within the fighting ring.

The story sees ex marine Tommy Riordan (Tom Hardy) return to his hometown of Pittsburgh where he goes back to the family home but does not reconcile with his father Paddy (Nick Nolte) a former alcoholic, whom he blames for driving him and his mother (who succumbed to illness) away. He instead enlists his father as his coach, as he was when Tommy was a child, to train him for MMA tournament Sparta which has a big cash prize, the biggest in the sport’s history, for the final victorious fighter. Meanwhile Tommy’s disconnected brother Brendan (Joel Edgerton), a former UFC Fighter, is working as a physics teacher and trying to makes ends meet. Fearing financial ruin, he reprises his fighting skills and returns to the ring as an amateur. But circumstances conspire and he finds himself the unlikely underdog competing in Sparta and the course is set for a physical and emotional confrontation between the two feuding brothers.

Warrior is a film that wears its heart on its battered sleeve, it puts the viewer through the ringer emotionally yet it is also unrelenting in its depiction of the brutality and violence that the sport commands. Both brothers have a driving motive to win the competition and this brings a human element to an otherwise seemingly barbaric sport. Tom Hardy, bulked up by 28 pounds of muscle for the role (and his forthcoming outing as Bane in The Dark Knight Rises) is inspired casting as Tommy, he is a man literally carrying the weight of the word on his shoulders, haunted by the past, he is a firecracker of pent aggression ready to ignite and explode in the fighting arena. And explode he does, his physicality and presence electrify the screen whenever he is competing. Joel Edgerton is a surprise revelation as Brendan, much like his character, he comes in as the mild mannered nice guy but can transform into steely intensity when pushed into the flight or fight situation. Nick Nolte brings a weary scruffy hound-dog pathos to his portrayal of the remorseful father, as only Nick Nolte can.

The narrative structure of the film follows a well worn path of sporting drama clichés and contrived outcomes yet you forgive Warrior for this. In fact a strange feeling takes over, even in the most discerning cinema viewer, you begin to wish for the inevitable, you hope the narrative takes you where you want to go, you want to fist pump the air getting carried away in all the excitement, you want the nail biting tension from the battles, you want and hope for the redemptive climatic showdown. Warrior appeals to the most primal instincts of cinema, it excites the mind and stirs the heart and who wouldn't get a kick out of that?

Review- The Skin I Live In (Pedro Almodovar)

The transformation of the physical appearance and the obsession it can bring is a subject which has long fascinated and influenced cinema with films as diverse as Vertigo to Face Off. The latest film to rear its modified head on this matter is Pedro Almodovar’s The Skin I Live In, a heady concoction of genres spliced together to create a repellent yet intoxicating mix of drama/horror/science fiction/suspense and dare I say it, romance.

The Skin I Live In begins with an opening shot of a Spanish town, where we are then whisked to a vast residence with a secured gated fence and long driveway, leading to the ominous dwelling. We see that there is a woman, dressed in a skin like leotard, who appears to be a kept prisoner; she is given food through a dummy waiter by the housekeeper, her fluids tampered with some form of drug. It later transpires that the house belongs to a brilliant but wholly unorthodox surgeon Robert Ledgard (Antonio Banderas) who is keeping the woman named Vera (Elena Anaya) as a human guinea pig who he is using to test a new hybrid form of skin, resilient to burns, scars and bites. But the reasons for Vera’s imprisonment are as tightly enclosed as the doors of the mansion that hold her, until an encounter with a stranger, clad in a tiger suit (which even though is explained, is still comically disturbing) blows apart their transmuted environment and the secrets of Robert and Vera’s pasts are revealed in dream induced flashbacks.

To give anymore away would ruin the dark delights of the film, one with many interweaving, contorting plot twists that seem somewhat ludicrous but entirely absorbing. This is attributed to the skill and flair with which Pedro Almodovar directs with his eye for creating arresting, bold imagery and the expertly paced construction of the narrative. He is a director who knows how to compose a film full of daring, risque concepts and will not, and thankfully does not have to, compromise his vision. And there is some risque material to contend with. The assault on Vera carried out by the intruding tiger is deeply distressing but crucial to the story and the shift of power in the house is readdressed. After the vicious attack Robert lets Vera stay in his room, letting down the barriers physically and emotionally, thus causing tension between Vera and Marilia (Marisa Paredes) the housekeeper, who guards Robert like a loyal yet vicious dog, ready to attack for her master.

We then discover the reasons behind the captive Vera and the enigmatic Robert which takes the film in a new direction of melodramatic and horrifying revelations that leads to climatic repercussions. Antonio Banderas showcases acting depths that are rarely tapped in his Hollywood outings, he is a brooding, controlling presence, consumed by the need to avenge past sins, even if these needs drive him to the edge of moral ambiguity, a place he cannot come back from and can only lead to despair. Elena Anaya creates in Vera a beguiling screen presence, her beauty so luminous that she looks like she has been created in a lab, it a fearless performance, every inch of her sculptured body is used to be taken advantage of and to take the advantage herself, behind the fragility is a steely determination for survival. But this is Pedro’s show, in lesser hands the film would have been the fodder of B movie trash or torture porn manipulation but the director is so astutely aware of his material and his mature, visual creativity, that The Skin I Live In becomes a devious, delicious, audacious thriller. The director has described the film as ‘a horror story without screams or frights’ which it readily embraces, the idea of body mutation is one rooted in the realms of psychological horror. The film also bares close comparisons with the 1960 horror Eyes without a Face (directed by Georges Franju) in which a mad scientist consumed with guilt tries to reconstruct his daughter’s severely scarred face by kidnapping young women to use their features for reconstructive surgery. Both feature men drawn to the brink of insanity by grief and longing for their loved ones, there is almost a compassion for these lonely figures, no matter how monstrous and twisted they become.

The Skin I Live In will no doubt confound many viewers, it is an experience that will leave you disorientated upon leaving the cinema, a feeling that may be too much for some but if you let yourself give in to the film, Almodovar will take you on a bewitching journey of revenge and psycho-sexual obsession that will literally get under your skin and stay there for days to come.

Musing on Modern Movie Magazines

A recent article in The Guardian regarding the segregation of movie magazines in newsagents has become a talking point on Twitter amongst us film loving folk. Cinema loving Louisa Robina Happe was fed up with having to trawl through the male dominated entertainment section to get to the film periodicals so decided to start her own film magazine Studio. However the Guardian questions whether this is just another women’s lifestyle magazine in a different form as it features articles on how to ‘steal the style of actresses’ rather than just focusing on their actual films. So is there such a thing as a real female film magazine or better still, is there a publication where gender is not even an issue, where it is simply a shared love of cinema regardless of the sex?

This article got me thinking on this subject which has been a sticky point in the past. I have been a reader of Empire for many years, however one article that was printed a while ago, made me question what I was reading and how this suited my needs as a film lover. The article in question was titled ’50 Movies that make men cry’ and featured films broad in range such as Star Wars, Saving Private Ryan, The Shawshank Redemption and Spartacus with written explanations as to why these films got under men’s skin and produced the elusive tears. Shoehorned into this article, in a corner of the page, was a sub piece titled ‘And 5 films that make women cry’ with barely a one sentence reason why and featured simply ‘chick flicks’ such as Dirty Dancing ‘nobody puts baby in the corner’ and Beaches ‘You are the wind beneath my wings. Sob’.
Now I know that for many women these chick flicks do produce the tears (most of whom I am certain work in my office), however as an ardent film fan, someone is more likely to cry at Sam Rockwell’s plight in Moon or to the brutality inflicted on the aliens in District 9, I felt patronised and insulted. Now I know that Empire has a predominantly male readership but surely they wouldn’t go out of their way to alienate their female followers?
I thought about this the next time I went to buy the magazine (yes I continued to buy it out of habit and also because my friend Ian and I take it in turns to buy it, then send it to the other one with added ‘amusing’ notes next to the bits we like and bits we don’t). Walking round the newsagents, I felt out of place next to the issues of FHM and Loaded that were in close proximity, I even mistook Empire for one of these ‘Lads Mags’ once due to a half naked Megan Fox on the front cover (don’t worry this was quickly defaced and transformed into a disturbing Let the Right one In mash up). Perhaps Empire magazine, which does feature some well written articles and the legendary Kin Newman’s dungeon, is simply pandering to a target market or maybe its just one big boys club where a films merit is determined by whether Natalie Portman’s bum looks good in HD? A female, serious about her film knowledge would have to look further afield to satisfy her cinematic needs and also to not feel like she is not intruding on the man’s arena.

And so rejoice for publications such as Little White Lies and the recently formed New Empress Magazine. These are independent film magazines that do not feature shots of Zoe Saldana in her underwear, nor do they overtly push the feminist angle in cinema, they simply write about film for film lovers. Little White Lies features in depth analysis of predominately art house and independent cinema with a reluctance to rely heavily on the mainstream releases. New Empress meanwhile covers an array of weird and wonderful topics in cinema, with many women writers on board and a female Editor.

And there in lies the rub, if we want a magazine that is not gender specific and aimed at a horny 13 year old boy, we have to seek out the leftfield, it is not offered in the mainstream. To provide film reviews and news, there is the feeling that they also have to provide sultry shots of Jessica Alba, thus perpetuating the idea that the woman is the object in cinema.
I would like a film magazine that doesn’t treat actresses as centrefolds. I would like a film magazine that’s gives an absorbing discussion about the themes of The Tree of Life but also acknowledges the guilty pleasures of Hot Tub Time Machine. I also would like a film magazine that gives an analysis of The Oscars and not ‘who’s wearing what on the red carpet’. Certain periodicals are making waves and addressing the needs of both genders and from all walks of film appreciation, however this is still in the minority and needs to be questioned more.

After all, as legendary film producer Bob Evans might say ‘A film fan is a film fan is a fan’.

Super 8 (directed by J J Abrams)

The Monster Smash?

In a Hollywood production line of sequels and remakes, it would be nice to experience again the Summer Blockbuster of days gone by, the type of movie event which had originality but also crucially a heart and soul.

Step forward J J Abrams with Super 8, a throwback to the early work of Steven Spielberg, who handily holds the producer credit for the film. In fact Super 8 bares many of the themes of the classic Spielberg movie-the reminiscent warm hue of childhood, the joys and growing pains of friendship, the absent father, who in this case is present but still scarce and the misunderstood Extra Terrestrial. One might argue why we need a film where Abrams does his best Spielberg impression? But any movie that instills the nostalgic yearn of childhoods spent riding bikes and long summers with your friends is a welcome addition to break the monotony of Superheroes and Smurfs.

Super 8, set in 1979, tells the story of Joe Lamb, a young boy whose mother has tragically died in a factory accident and whose father, the town sheriff, is unable to relate to his son. Fast forward four months and Joe and his friends are making a zombie movie in their summer holidays for a film competition. One night they sneak out to a remote train station/platform to film scenes with the new addition to the cast Alice, an object of teenage lust for the boys (particularly Joe) and a catalyst for division in their friendship. While filming they witness a train derail in suspicious circumstances and flee the scene when the U.S Air Force arrive and surround the area. The gang agree not to tell anyone what they have seen; however things start to take a turn for the strange in their small town. People begin to disappear, all the towns pet dogs flee to neighbouring areas, electrical appliances appear to have been looted and finally the shady U.S Air Force take over the panicked town.

Abrams film provides all the thrills and spills you would expect from a summer monster movie, his flair for directing action set pieces and building suspense, clearly evident in the train crash sequence and the slow reveal of what is now lurking loose among the town, moving through the trees and hurtling up water towers. Yet the films real ace is the kids, the interaction between the group of friends is utterly believable, funny and bittersweet, they are the spirit of the movie (stick around for the post film credits to see the results of their antics). Top marks should go to the casting director for finding such a natural, genuinely likeable bunch of child actors, the standout being Elle Fanning (sister of the precocious Dakota) who shows that her charming screen turn in previous film Somewhere was no fluke and displays an affable screen presence that could outshine her sister.

Super 8 does have a few flaws, at times it veers into schmaltzy territory (something that Spielberg himself is no stranger to) and the third act doesn't quite reach the giddy heights of the original premise but there is enough good old fashioned entertainment and bye gone whimsy to please many a film lover. To quote a former Apprentice candidate everything Abrams touches 'turns to sold'.

Review- Blue Valentine (dvd)

Directed by Derek Cianfrance
A stolen glance, a passionate embrace, a music set montage of playful dates. These are all the 'hallmark' moments of the traditional Hollywood romance. But these moments are redefined, stripped back and then crushed in a subtle anguish in Derek Cianfrance's Blue Valentine. Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams star as the flourishing/decaying couple Dean and Cindy whom meet, fall in love and then fall out of love, but what sets this apart from many other cookie cutter, run of the mill romances is the honesty, often brutally bleak and unflinching portrayal of human emotions.
Like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind which showed the end of the relationship at the beginning and the beginning of the relationship at the end, Blue Valentine starts with the fleeting hours of the couple, all the nasty elements that come from years of resentment and disappointment and then alters through a series of flashbacks to the first blooms of their romance, the sparks that fly through their first encounter. The film begin a rhythm of shifting from one time period to another, juxtaposing the sour present with the bittersweet past as the pair make a last ditch attempt at their fledging romance with a night in a motel, staying in the 'future room' (a symbol of their relationship and also the disillusion of what advance society would be). In one climatic scene we see Dean and Cindy in a final embrace, intertwined with the couple getting married, making the film all the more heartbreaking as we long for the past to be present again.
Ryan Gosling has been treading through indie waters for some time after the over sentimental swooning of The Notebook, shows why he is the go to guy for the thinking person's leading man, showing an impulsive sporadic nature, yet all the while maintaining a delicate tenderness. Michell Williams meanwhile has shown she can depict downtrodden yet spirited with uncanny astuteness in films such as Brokeback Mountain and Wendy and Lucy, she is at home in the independent film where she excels with vulnerable, raw, passionate performances.

Shot through with an accurate eye that still retains a dreamy aesthetic, without being overly mawkish, Derek Cianfrance creates a wholly believable picture of the fragility of love, his direction infringing on awkward angles and uncomfortable close ups, that the camera shows his two leads sometimes in uncomfortable lights should be praised for the realistic nature that it constructs and the authenticity that Gosling and Williams bring to their roles.

Blue Valentine may be a thorny watch to bear, but it is one that reminds us that beyond the Hollywood gleam, love stories, even those with moments of beauty and grace, do not always have happy endings. We must remember that love is a many splintered thing and can only hope that we can weather the storm and keep it alive.

Tree of Life

Could it be Malick?
The latest directorial output from Terrence Malick arrives in a flurry of film column inches, dividing viewers by winning the Palme D'Or at Cannes, but in turn also receiving just as many deflated scowls at the ceremony.

If you are the kind of film viewer that only sees cinema as a means of narrative entertainment then stop reading now, this really isn't the film for you and you will probably find this article pretentious in some way. That includes you Dad, I love you to bits but Con Air this ain't.

To even use the word film seems almost redundant in many ways as Malick has reached new heights in creating a experience so singular and unique that it defies and rewrites the concept of conventional film making. There is no easy way to explain the plot of Tree of Life that would either make sense or do justice to the experience, (this is what it feels like more than a film-an experience). It does however, concern a family in rural Texas in the 1950s, taking in on the way, ideas of creation, evolution, life and death. The themes of our existence in the world and the loss of innocence by the eldest boy in the family are the main contributors of the film, but this my reaction to the film, I believe that each viewer will take away something different from the Tree of Life. The key is to give in to its power (and it does yield a power that becomes apparent when leaving the cinema), to immerse yourself in the vast, consuming landscapes, the intimate portrayal of family life, so simple yet so tender, the nostalgic hue of the beautifully recreated 50s backdrop and the notions of the creation of the world we live in.

Malick's camera lives every inch and detail of the everyday nuances of life, whether its gliding through the rooms of the family house, an extreme close up of a newborn baby, and in turn the vengeful elder siblings reaction to the new addition, or the realisation that life is not all about riding your bike or climbing trees, that childhood has to end. It is a journey that, once succumbed to, reaps rewards in a once in a lifetime cinematic episode. There are elements to the Tree of Life which will be familiar with viewers of Malick's previous films, with its existential mood and use of melancholy voice over. The film also recalls images usually reserved for documentaries such as Planet Earth and comparisons can be made in some of the scene's style to the film Koyaanisqatsi, which used visual images and haunting music to create a scenario of the creation of the world and the landscapes around us.
However Tree of Life still feels completely unique, the term 'like nothing you have ever seen before' is saddled around a lot in Cinema, but in this case, it resonates profoundly. That this film ever saw the light of day in the realms of contemporary Hollywood, must be attributed to Malicks clout as a director and the star wattage that Brad Pitt brings to any project. That it shares cinema listings with the latest Transformers film is absurd but also empowering.
Terrance Malick has only made five films in the past forty years but with Tree of Life, he has left an enriching encounter that will last in the memory and mind for a long time.

Disappointing dvds

Recent viewings have been disappointing to say the least as follows

Paul (Directed by Greg Mottola)


When does a movie go from paying homage to its favourite sci fi films to just ripping them off every five minutes? The answer is Paul.

Paul is the bloated, self indulgent offspring of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, a film about two sci fi geeks who encounter an alien on their way across America's outback of Paranormal hotspots. There is no denying Pegg and Frosts love for the films of Spielberg, Lucas et all and their in joke tributes to them have worked well in the past in the series Spaced. However over the course of an entire film it feels lazy, unfunny and unoriginal (apart from a Star Wars bar reference which is a doozy). The script is predictable and not up to the standard of previous efforts and one cant help wonder that perhaps the duo's secret ingredient is really Edgar Wright who is absence on directing duties, after Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. The lovely Kristen Wiig is wasted in a role that does not play to her strengths and Jason Bateman is well Jason Bateman. It seems left to their own devices, the boys don't know when to reign it in, Paul at times feels like a film just made for themselves. Wish they had included the audience a little more.

Best left assigned to a galaxy far far away......

The Adjustment Bureau (directed by Gregg Nolfi)

Grrr, this film makes me a little mad. It could have been so much better. It had the pedigree for pity's sake. Based on a Phillip K Dick story, starring the reliable Matt Damon, it has Mad Men's Roger Stirling! (ok so it's John Slattery but he will always be Roger Stirling to me) and an intriguing premise of how we are not in control of our destiny and everything is in fact pre ordained by a shady organisation The Adjustment Bureau.
What emerges from this sci fi thriller is a very bland, dull pointless film. The plot revolves around Matt Damons politician and Emily Blunts dancer falling for each other and then being kept apart by the forces on high, as they were not supposed to be for one another and for some inexplicable reason, the Bureau is intent on keeping them apart. Cue clever plot devices, involving romance and edge of your seat tension, guess again. Instead it's a series of meandering scenes, silly code breakers (Hats, really is that all it takes and a few twists of a doorknob?) and half hearted relationships entwined in a narrative that might as well not bothered. Damon is wasted paired with the comatose Blunt who looks like she is falling asleep in every scene (that she is a dancer is laughable given her languid performance). The fact that she doesn't even seem interested in Damon for three quarters of the film means that you care little that this pair even get together which leaves the film at a loss with the audience and you almost wish that Damon is caught and lobotomised (Blunt looks like she already has been).

Ladies and Gentlemen please adjust your sets.

Movie of the Month

My movie of the month is Spanish thriller Julia's eyes. Check out newempressmagazine.com for my review.

Why the Movies made me want to Roller-skate

A young girl sits on a living room carpet, idly playing with a Barbie doll, whilst her Dad pops a VHS into the tape player. The film begins and the girl’s attention is drawn to the TV screen, to the images that dance before her. A glamorous cornucopia of women on roller-skates appear out of walls and begin gliding around in a sea of colour beams and big hair. The girl becomes transfixed. The girl was me and the film was Xanadu. From that moment on, all I wanted to do was pick up a pair of skates and hit the pavement in a blaze of Technicolor glory, such was the passion instilled from witnessing this movie. Perhaps Xanadu could be considered to be one of the influences of my love of film, purely for the reason that it made me feel at that time and age that anything was possible, that I could burst through walls and induce a flushed frenzy in my wake. (Though if anyone asks me what I consider influential films I will of course, say something more intellectual like Citizen Kane).

Xanadu stars Olivia Newton-John as an all singing, all wheel rolling floaty muse, sent to reinvigorate the life and creativity of a struggling artist with whom she ends up falling in love with. She also hangs out with Gene Kelly! who she inspired years previously and he opens a roller skating disco in a gloriously glitter infused extravaganza.
The film did not make any sense to me at the time and on a repeat viewing recently some 20 odd years later, still doesn’t make much sense. The plot is slight, some of the acting borders on woeful and features incredibly dated cheesy graphics (though the ELO soundtrack still rocks) yet the film is enjoyable and entertaining. Perhaps this is due to the feeling of nostalgic bliss it leaves on me, remembering the first time I experienced its headily camp enchantment as a small girl. Film touches and inspires us in many different ways and sometimes even the guiltiest of pleasures can stay with us, if it stirs such unadulterated revelry. And so I donned a pair of roller skates, Barbie printed as I recall, and set about recreating Xanadu in my back garden, with varying degrees of un-success and me being of an age and mentality where I didn’t stick to things that I didn’t pick up straight away, left the roller-skate obsession to flourish and then fade out in my day dreams until......

On an overcast April day last year, myself and my sister took a trip to the cinema to see Whip It! a film about a teenage girl finding a love and solace in the sport of Roller Derby. Now I knew there would be skating involved in this film, that was a given, but at this point I felt I was past my roller fantasy and was more drawn to the impressive cast and the promise of a feisty female orientated narrative. However as soon as the lights went down, in and on the screen for the first scene of derby mayhem, I was hooked. The giddy excitement came rushing to the forefront again, my feet began dancing under my seat, my body wanted to hurtle out into the open as I was hit by the overwhelming desire to hit the streets on a pair of wheels.

Whip It! tells the story of Bliss Cavendish (Ellen Page) an awkward teen whose pushy mother (Marcia Gay Harden) makes her compete in Beauty Pageants but longs for something different. That something different comes in the form of Roller Derby in the neighbouring town. Bliss finds herself drawn to this tough girl sport and taking on the alias of Babe Ruthless, becomes the newest and fastest member of the Hurl Scouts team, but the ride is bumpy as she drifts apart from her best friend, has a brief flirtation with a muso crush and traverses her domineering home life. As Bliss/Babe Ruthless discovers her way in the Roller derby arena and in turn, her place in life, she tells her mother ‘I am in love with this’ and my own heart sang with the refreshing declaration of worship for something other than a mans affection (this is second fiddle in the film compared to Derby), which is the usual fare for a ‘chick flick’. The strong female vibe, funky monikers and skating action, embellished with eyeliner war-paint and coloured hair was an intoxicating combination and I left the cinema trying to use my feet as skates and coming up with my own derby name, Disgrace Kelly. Since watching Whip It! I have contemplated purchasing a pair of skates again (sans Barbie who doesn’t fit the pro female image), held my own Whip It! themed party (try it, its oodles of fun) and downloaded the soundtrack to motivate me as I jog. I have also researched into roller derby possibilities in my area as this past-time has taken off in the UK since the release of the film and has recently been recognized as a sport by the British Roller Sports Federation with a Great Yorkshire showdown taking place annually right on my doorstep! As the coach of the hurl scouts Razor declares in training ‘There is a lot more to Roller Derby than picking a tough girl name’ I will have to wait and see if this reignited zeal actually bears fruition but whether I don those skates or not, it does not take away the fact that I am constantly delighted and amazed at cinema’s power to evoke a myriad of emotions in people and instill this girl with the glee and musings of a secret life as a Derby queen.


Hmm now wheres's that website with the roller boots again...........

An ode to Harold and Maude

You know you really love a film when you put it in your top 5 list of all time greats. You know you really love a film when the mere mention of its name, be it in someones conversation or a magazine article, makes your heart skip a beat and pulls at your emotions. You know you really love a film when you name your cat after one of the main characters.

I have such a love for the film Harold and Maude, which has been called something of a cult film, though most people I have met have never seen or heard of it (this I have tried to rectify in my own small way by forcing copies of those nearest and dearest who I believe will dig its individual charms).

The movie bombed upon its release in 1971 and a sufficient dent in the reputation of director Hal Ashby, as cinema goers were not tempted by the (slightly misguided) premise of a romantic comedy between a nineteen year old boy and a seventy nine year old woman.

Though there is an element of romance to their relationship, to me Harold and Maude is more about friendship and how this has no age bounds when two people truly connect. Harold is a sombre young man obsessed with death, who daydreams of suicide plots and frequents funerals. It is at a funeral that he meets Maude, an effervescent old lady who turns his world upside down with life's simple quirky pleasures such as stealing trees from roadsides to give them a better, more dignified life. And yes the film is quirky (though this was in the days when the term had not been overused and thrown at every other film to make it seem 'cool') with singalongs, fake death sequences and a one armed Army General but the film out rides all the kookiness to deliver a genuine heartfelt love letter to two outsiders finding their soul mates.

The influence of Harold and Maude can been seen in many contemporary works, particularly on Cameron Crowe who lists the soundtrack (composed entirely by Cat Stevens) as one of the greatest ever in movie history. The sequence which uses the song 'Trouble' is in my opinion one of the best uses of music and image in a movie, cutting together the unfolding story and heightening the mood that the film has taken.

If this review encourages others to seek out this little gem, then it would make this fan very happy. If not, it has made this fan very happy to simply reminisce about one of my favourite movies.

Oh and I named my cat Maude.

Things I have learnt this week

No news is not always good news, its sometimes just plain rude. A simple story of a girl losing her dog can bring heartbreaking results (see Wendy and Lucy). You may have the imagination of a great film director but this is hard to put into practice with a poundland budget. Jason Schwartzman's mum is Talia Shire aka Adrian in the Rocky films!!

Rubber (Quentin Dupieux) Film Review

Ah a film the world has been waiting for, Rubber tyre comes to life and forms telekinetic powers thus enabling 'it' to kill people as it stalks across the desert land.

I was attracted to this film by the cheeky trailer and the trashy but fun premise, enticing the viewer with the tag line 'Are you tired of the expected'. This film is in some ways nothing anyone could expect. If the above plot was not barmy enough the film adds eccentric layer upon layer with its interwoven segments of 'spectators' watching the film unfold as we the audience do (though they do this with binoculars and the aid of a very dubious accountant).

From the opening gambit, we are told , straight to camera, by the lieutenant overseeing the tyre's crime spree, that things happen in movie land for 'no reason', he confirms this with references to other films that leave us with accepted yet unexplained details. Thus this allows Rubber a celluloid get out of jail free card, to go about its merry strange way without having to justify the actions. The film also seems intent to address the minor audience that Rubber may find, as the spectators/audience are systematically killed off, bar one, thus the film somewhat grudgingly has to continue.

And yet, despite its limited appeal and left field execution, Rubber is an intriguing, oddball gem. Those wanting a killer tyre movie that simply delivers a large body count and B movie nastiness might want to drive on by as the film may have a selection of exploding heads and animal body parts but it is not primarily concerned with generating cheap thrills.

The star of the show is Robert, the murderous tyre with anger issues, he is shot in such a way, that we are drawn to him and every simple action he takes, from his first tentative steps, like those of a newborn child, to his breathing as he rests from a hard days rolling, the tyre takes on full dimension as an actual character (so much so that when he comes across a pile of tyres being burned in the wasteland, we can almost feel his silent pain).

Rubber defiantly lies somewhere to the left, a well crafted, expertly shot, pseudo oddity that will be too much for most but took this viewer on a bumpy but entertainingly bonkers ride.

No news is not so good news

Finally got round to watching the Oscars last Friday (even though we all know by now who the winners were), as I like to watch the whole ceremony. My highlights included

James Franco- It has been well documented that Mr Franco was not the most popular of hosts, somewhat mismatched with Anne Hathaway and portraying an air of detachment to the whole proceedings, but his facial expressions were a treat and his almost stoner like presence was a welcome relief from Hathaway's try hard giddy girl routine. That and seeing him in a white leotard during their skit of Black Swan was a hoot.

Luke Matheny- The director and winner of Best short film for God of Love gave the sweetest most genuinely excited speech of the evening.

Kirk Douglas- It was slightly awkward watching him try to move around the stage but the old timer still showed a cheeky charm.

Cate Blanchett's dress- Best of the evening for me, just the right side of quirky.

It is the Bradford Film Festival this week and there are many screenings and talks going on. I missed out on going to the Terry Gilliam talk, however tomorrow I will console myself with the screening of the classic 'Labyrinth' which they are showing on the big screen in all its glory. Expect Graham and I will be singing "You remind me of the babe" all the way home.....

Filming for Forgotten Reverie- Blackpool Bridge, Meltham 11th February 2011

Day 1 of filming of 'Forgotten Reverie'.




This began in the rolling countryside of Yorkshire, at a hideaway picturesque location called Blackpool Bridge, near Digley Reservoir in Meltham. With the narrative of the poem, we wanted to create a dreamlike memory. of lost love and regret and we wanted to find somewhere that would evoke a melancholy mood.

After a very muddy and long walk through the Yorkshire countryside, we found the hidden gem of Blackpool Bridge and shot some footage there, along with the surrounding fields. This will be layered with some close ups.

Breathless in Paris

Have just returned from a wonderful long weekend in Paris and thought I would share some film related findings of my journey. As a fan of the french new wave it was a personal desire of mine to see the final resting place of Francois Truffaut, one of the leaders of the movement. The cemetery in Montmarte has many pioneers of the French arts buried there and it is a testament of how high they hold their regard for artists and creative innovators.

Francois Truffaut's grave at Montmarte Cemetary. A true pioneer of filmmaking

The streets of Paris are awash with stunning architecture and picturesque views that have inspired many films and is somewhere that ignites the creative passions, a place steeped in iconic scenery. And has made this part time filmmaker yearn to get back behind the camera.

Henri George Clouzot's grave at Montmarte Cemetary. The director of such French classics as 'The Wages of Fear' and 'Les Diaboliques'.