My Favourite Films of 2010

Unfortunately, I don’t have a top Ten. I have a top 5. The rest of the  movies in my list sort of fall into place as a compendium of great films, but while there might be slight increases in quality none of them push above one another. That’s what was great about this year, movie didn’t fall into place, they didn’t try to jostle their way up the chart. If anything, 2010 was an anti-oscar year, a year that doesn’t have one movie that nearly defines it all, and where everything was contributing. I loved 2010, I think partly because I was much more enamoured with the movies made this year then a lot of other people did this year (I’d say half of the stuff on this list was unnoticed or completely written off by most people), but also because it felt like 2010 was tapping into the world, and drawing great drama and power from the world’s confusion. It’s the themes we face, confusion, the idea of the world becoming large and connected, and how overwhelmed that makes us all feel. The commoditization of technology.

So, here are the movies that missed the cut:

The Social Network (David Fincher) – “Sometimes You’d say two things at once and I don’t know which one I’m supposed to be aiming at.” So flows the most important movie of the year. Sorkin’s dialogue is like a machine gun, and Fincher doesn’t make it cluttered and neat, but messy and haphazard. The dialogue is sharp, but the feeling is not. The Social Network was never about Zuckerberg, or Saverin, or Parker. It was about you, that person sitting on the computer checking his facebook every two seconds as they try to get through other, more important things, the person whose interaction has been divulged down to taking away the intricacies of communication and turning body language into simplistic gestures (You’re not this person? You’re unique.). It took someone who looked at people purely through dialogue to make something like Facebook. The world is layed out through the hazy bars, the dark and sharp nightclubs, the hip offices of Facebook. Sorkin creates, the cast captures, and Fincher observes. That is how this movie works. And so, you see the world that is becoming the norm in the western world. Is it nice?

Shutter Island (Martin Scorsese)- On the opposite end, Shutter Island was pure cinema. But it was built on a bed of intense surrealism which made it a fascinating viewing experience. Scorsese is a master of mood, camera, editing, and structure, but here he turns his attention at a cinematic trick he never really explored, colour. His colours are vivid, but more importantly they’re sharp, with the sharp and clear greys and deep blues and the sharp yellows and red. His colours are not vibrant, they are not loud and bright, nor dark and dull, they are both at the same time, and instead of inhabiting two planes the colours snaps, and his world becomes something so much different. Time draws itself out, and everything is questioned. Leo wanders in search of a soul, or a reason, or something. Shutter Island, I guess, is a wandering movie, where everything is simply a search, but not for what you think. Not for a missing woman, but for the meaning behind it all. Also, it had the best final line of the year.

Fish Tank (Andrea Arnold)- Whether or not Arnold’s minimalistic craft was broken by the strange twists and turns in the final act is debatable, but whatever the case it definitely signalled one thing…Lynne Ramsay she is not. Both come from the same idea of craftsmanship, but they are handed different worlds. Ramsay’s one in Ratcatcher is full of garbage, every image is grey and damp, whereas Arnold’s similar editing and shot composition ideas form a place full of sun, but not as uncompromising. “The Coffee isn’t even bitter, because, what’s the difference” as the bard once said, and that truth is this truth. So Arnold weaves her tale, tracking the world of Mia, a 15-year-old who dances, a 15-year-old who erupts into anger. Her world is of isolation, and of trying to just find…something. She always wants to do something good, she wants to know more. She wants to connect, but when opportunity presents itself she attacks it. A paradox known easily. We can’t know what this life is like, but sometimes, we can feel the pain. The cramped conditions of the flats, and yet this world is quiet, an intimate character drama where there seems to be not many people there. At moments, Arnold’s camera makes this place seem like paradise. But it’s obvious that the sun is just laughing, and that’s the most depressing part of it all.

Of Gods and Men (Xavier Beaufois)- An intense study of violence and how people of a certain nature react to violence. A religious movie which does not care about your religion. It is dealing with religion not in the sense of gods or of scriptures, but belief in beauty, and in the belief in beauty surrounding us. AKA this is a beautiful film. Some of those shots are extraordinary, especially the scenes in the church and the scene at dinner. This movie, before I go rambling on, is just a perfect construction, so immaculate and beautiful, with great performances from everyone. Why this has not been nominated for the oscars…..just kind of makes sense.

Buried (Rodrigo Cortes)- 95 minutes of a man in a box. This is somewhat emotional schlock for some of the conversations, but cynics will be cynics, and what came away for me was how well done the schlock was. It got to me. Cortes throws colours around, making a coffin visually exciting and strangely kinetic. A wonderful surprise, so it is.

Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (Apichatpong Weerasthekul)- The Palmes D’or winner of 2011 is brilliant, a twisting film, a movie which moves so effortlessly between so many different storylines and lengthy scenes that one step wrong could lose the audiences willingness to play along. And it will divide people, but at the same time you cannot deny that Apichatpong Weerasthekul is one of if not the most singular talent working in all of cinema today. Syndromes and A Century was wrestling with the world, but here his sights grow wider, as he begins to infest his mind with the supernatural, with the otherworldly, with the feeling that pervades that area of our bodies which is not there, yet which is so immaculate and overpowering. His style moves on the fly, the movie changes so quickly. Uncle Boonmee was the tightrope walk movie of the year, and Weerasthekul pulled it off.

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (Edgar Wright)-  25-year-old slacker gets new girlfriend, who is in high school and very naive about relationships, the jazz, and it’s obvious to us that this is simply a reaction to his breakup with someone who became a stalwart of rock. He then falls in love, but the Cera schtick gets repositioned as the movie surrounding him is no longer convinced they believe his words. He fights, he cracks jokes, he plays bass. All of it is naive, some way of trying to attach a persona to himself which has no true density to it. Scott Pilgrim is artificial in this movie, a fun guy no doubt, but when trying to label him with emotions and ideals he has none. He learns by the end something needs to change, and he goes a step in the right direction, but this movie tries to say that he has finished his quest. The whole movie is how he views himself, he thinks his work is done, and he can ride off into the sunset. But there’s always more to it then that, which Scott is more than willing to avoid. Why? Because humanity is like that. Scott avoids his problems, and wants to believe the simplest of solutions, or the easiest. Scott is a shaky character, always challenged and barely being able to save face, but not without getting his ego dragged in the mud. No one seems to dig deeper. I believe the movie does though, and that’s a strength to it.

Not to mention that, mainly, it’s awesome/hilarious.

Toy Story 3 (Lee Unkrich)- Toy Story 3 is an amazingly crafted movie, but the simple explanation for why it’s on this list is because it made me cry waterfalls. There doesn’t really have to be another reason, does there?

Un Prophet (Jacques Audiard)-  Un Prophet is the movie which seems like the entire crime drama avoided, turning a prison into a world of alliances and rivalries, but more importantly, it’s the way this movie creates a world which makes it so compelling. Malik, played by a transcendent Tahir Rahim, is not Pacino. He is watching the contours of his prison, trying to find meaning in the events which transpire in the movie. He’s naive and a common criminal, but he’s also smart, understanding, and ruthless. Fear runs through his eyes at the beginning, but by the end murder becomes second nature to him. The movie begins on a palette, one man in  jail gets forced to do a crime, and builds up to the most shocking and brutal scene of the year. Then the craft comes in, as Audiard’s camera captures the beautiful details in the prison as both Malik’s world and the constructs of the film open up. As it opens, scenes become larger in scale, and people become brought in and shut out, as one man’s crumbling world is set against the rise of another man’s. The Godfather is a movie steeped in nostalgia, as is most crime movies, but this one of those rare things: a beautifully unique crime movie which feels precisely of the moment. Not this moment, but everyone moment.

Macgruber (Jorma Taccone)- A slight change in pace. A movie which is built within the strict guidelines of hollywood dumb comedy, yet Built within it is the portrayal of a man who may have been a hero long ago, whether or not he was is enigmatic, but is now a raging, psychotic madman. Macgruber is messed up. Incredibly. That’s part of what makes Macgruber so funny, is this guy is not your normal madmen. He’s  strange, idiotic, and inventive, and yet still insane. I know most people have said this, but I don’t how you can be bored or unimpressed by Macgruber. Insulted? most people will be. But some of those comedic bits are pure genius. It’s a movie which has the trappings of hollywood comedy, but then proceeds to take and upper decker on what is essential in comedy.

Mother (Bong Joon-Ho)- Mother is about a mother. This mother has nothing but devotion to her son, as a mother does. Her son is a mentally impaired young man, who at the beginning you begin to be on edge about. He doesn’t really know what he’s saying, what he’s thinking, or what he did (memory is a huge part of this movie). Bong Joon Ho is known for how he melds genres, here creating a drama/crime drama/mystery with multiple comedic elements. But what comes away is the way he uses his ability to twist audience perception. He knows how we feel about every person on display, and so he asks us to question it. This is leads to moment of sublime beauty, of simplicity, but not for us. Not for the mother. We want to try to simply just feel the beauty of dancing in the reeds, but the world will not let us have such pleasures. We are too conflicted. We have too much on our minds. The revelations in this movie hit your soul with such power, that nothing can really be simple anymore. Kim Hye-Ja is a revelation.

Tron: Legacy (Joseph Kosinski)- Black isn’t some horrible creature in Tron: Legacy, instead it’s a viable force all itself, a vivid colour. The blacks in Tron:Legacy are deep, the neon blues are stark, and the reds are bright and fearful. The characters are new, no heroes are allowed in this world. Instead there are rockstars, zen masters, wordless soldiers. They all traipse around looking for something, validation of their path, power, revenge, money. Leverage. Jeff Bridges doesn’t want that, but is forced to look for it. In the middle are the two youngsters. One has cycles, a naive young man trying to figure out the world he’s been given, and where his world is going from there. He has the true power. Of choice. He is the fly in the wrench, and he changes it all. The girl is but a strange being, in thought and mind, to the audience, and is the epitome of the world created. They play off each other, as they are opposites but understanding. “Bio digital jazz” seems to fit us nicely. Escapism was never so beautiful.

And My Top 5:

5. Inception (Christopher Nolan)- I missed the buzz. I missed the insane buzz about this movie, and ironically only caught it on the last weekend or so it was in cinemas. What surprised me is I came away with something different from most people. A lot of the arguments, the eventual backlash went over my head. The characters are great, with wa wonderful set of actors and actresses working at the top of their game (Tom Hardy, wow). The structure is immaculate, perfect. The ideas, the themes, the emotions, are wonderful to behold and to watch unfold. Everything is perfect, and that was what was debated. The characters were perfect, but not flawed. Conflicted, emotionally scared. Not flawed. A person’s flaws allow someone into their head. To understand their thoughts, you must understand what makes them unique. But people also argued for how smart, how well realised the movie is. How fun. How exciting.

For me, Inception was a case of people arguing about a movie I didn’t quite see. I mean, I get how this movie inspired those thoughts, but it’s always a movie steeped in these images, and they seem so antithetical, all trying to go in new directions, all moving in strange places. Like it’s all just these beautiful images strung together. I love that. I love this movie. Every part of it, but it’s the image of Leo standing in front of the bursting walls of water, it’s paris being turned on itself, it’s the city eroded by a beach, it’s the spinning top, deciding your fate with a simple fall. It’s those, and so much more, which gives Inception its rightful place.

4. The Illusionist (Sylvain Chomet)- Jacques Tati could have never directed The Illusionist. His writing is to intense, to personal, that he wasn’t the person to bring it to life. He knew this better than anyone, allowing the script to be unproduced as he went on to direct one of the greatest comedy films of all time . Chomet showed talent on his debut, The Triplets of Belleville, for a sense of melancholy, of capturing emotion, pure, unadulterated emotion. However, with its big city, it’s oddball characters and pear-shaped villains, Triplets of Belleville was a movie stepped in quirk and oddities.

On The Illusionist, Chomet has gotten rid of all of that, and has turned this script into a perfect movie. It’s hilarious, sure, but you won’t be able to tell through all the tears. More people need to see this film. If you haven’t, go find it now.

3. Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik)- It is amazing that this was nominated for best picture. this is heady stuff. This is watching a director suck you into the deep and dark greys of the skies, the browns and dull greens of the trees. A camera which observes these details that they capture something beyond human imagination. This is a person giving a performance so immaculate, so able to keep up with the skill being brought by a director, so able to embody such a compelling character, and to make her even more compelling, that you wonder how any other performances can possibly match up to this. This is a movie which defies the words you are reading right now. And it’s only at number three.

2. Monsters (Gareth Edwards)- This movie was bogged down by comparisons to Cloverfield, then bogged down by people telling people it was not Cloverfield, and that it was actually a good movie. I saw one person describe it as “Before Sunset with Aliens” this criticism showcases something  prevalent in modern-day criticism….in some cases, if something new is presented, people will try to attach elements of it to other movies in order to quantify what it truly is. It’s called Monsters, and it has giant monsters, so it’s Cloverfield. There’s a central romance, Before Sunset surely. Aliens with humans, touching scene? Surely he’s just doing a Spielberg and making War of the Worlds. Low budget sci-fi? District 9, obviously. this is sad, because Monsters, taken as its own movie, is one of the greatest cinematic achievements of all time.

So many colours. So much beauty. One of these moments, the broken town, the flooded tank, the gas station romance, the mayan temple, the vigil for people killed, in any other film would be The defining image of that movie, but here they are part of a whole. I’m hoping this is just an overlooked classic and one day people will realise how much love this film deserves.

1. Exit Through the Gift Shop (Banksy)- There was no other option.

Whether or not Banksy planned it, he pulled a beautiful trick with Exit Through the Gift Shop. He made a film about the street art movement, capturing its revolutionary ideologies, its artistic tendencies, but he also made a movie about art. Who is it for? Should everyone be an artist? (Will be answered later) He created a movie which dealt with all these problems better than anything else out there, better than anyone else. Because more than any art form, at least at the moment, Street art is the one which is the one dealing with the idea of art, should “vandalism” art? Using the civilised world as your canvas? Banksy made a movie questioning everything, a fascinating story about a man who should not be a street artist because everybody on the scene agrees that he doesn’t have any. But who should say that Banksy and co. were able to declare that Mr. Brainwash was worthless?

But then something weird happened.

Suddenly, the idea came out, and spread, that it might all be a hoax.

People came into the film with this idea, and suddenly everybody was talking about it because they were in on it. It was the official stamp of cool, of knowing that you’re on Banksy’s side, the side of the true artists. Of asserting your position over the rest of people. Like getting into an exclusive club by “knowing” that it was all a hoax.

And then people probed deeper. Well, if it’s a hoax, how much of it’s a hoax? How much is fake? Is it just that Banksy pulled strings behind Thierry’s back, or was he in on it the whole time? Was it simply a decision to show people they were saps by simply saying Thierry should put an exhibit, or was it a grand conspiracy?

The film was then parsed through with a comb, people searching for the evidence for one side or another. As if they could somehow find an answer to all of this, as if Banksy could somehow tell everybody exactly what they need to think. As if he had planted the answer somewhere. So arguments began. Debate happened. and it led to that ever eternal question, what is art, what is good art, and why does it spark such an emotional reaction in us?

I don’t care whether it’s a hoax or not, but it opened the thousands of brilliant details contained within this movie. Suddenly, the true depth of whatever Banksy is doing opened up, even if it was just a story to be told. People though Banksy was too well spoken, but I’ve never heard anyone quite as confused, even though he knows he’s being an enigma, as he is at the end of this film. “I used to encourage everyone I knew to make art. I don’t do that so much anymore”. There is no answer, if there was, Banksy would feel no need to make this film, but after all his acclaim then after the acclaim of Mr. Brainwash, he needed to ask these questions, to see if someone knew. Because he didn’t. Because there is, and never will be, an answer.

But all of that feels like a wonderful addition. The movie comes alive for me when we see people making street art, because it reminds me that people are still making provocative works, that people are still challenging ideas and it makes me want to pick up a can of spray paint and then destroy every rule written. It is the only movie which has infected my life in this way that was made this year.

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Mogwai – Young Team

What Mogwai does on Young Team is that they focus on the little things. They highlight what other bands would ignore, and bring them to the surface, and make them the flux of a song. They have this ability to remove any artifice from the song, and present ideas in their purity, which is something most artists can’t do. The opener, “Yes! I Am a Long Way From Home” shows this. The opening progression feels like in a way it could be used by a simple and dull emo band to form the crux of one of their songs, yet Mogwai twist it subtly, by adding a sense of importance to the notes, and the music, and by allowing the sounds to float through your brain, before having the song build up to a conclusion which shows off their post rock sensibilities, conforming that, yes, Young Team is nothing like anything you have heard before.

And so it’s a problem for me trying to review Young Team, because I’m afraid of repeating myself when talking about the album. Young Team is simple, but so utterly unique, a band with a vision for an entirely new soundscape and then, over the course of an hour exploring ever single space of that soundscape. Nothing is like Young Team, because Young Team is music. Which sounds normal, but is so utterly rare, a band trusting their sound and using sound as a way of communicating. The best way of describing Young Team is the clip at the beginning of “Yes! I Am A Long Way From Home”, saying “music can put human beings in a trance like state…..music is bigger then words and wider then pictures”.

The sounds feel like a thick black, not dark or morbid, but deep and colourful, like the rest of the album it feels as though Mogwai is trying to destroy the preconceptions of everything people might bring to music like this, and whether you have the cover of a japanese street corner or the simple black cover seen above, it shows that off.

There are variations within Young Team. The album moves between epics which incorporate quiet/loud dynamics and post rock pedal manipulation (Like Herod, Mogwai Fear Satan), smaller songs of damp guitar lines , sometimes building to a smaller incorporation of post rock (Yes! I Am A Long Way From Home, Katrien, Summer (Priority Version)), quieter, simpler songs like R U Still Into It, Tracy, and Radar Maker. Then there’s something so starkly striking as A Cheery Wave From Stranded Youngsters, and the mind-blowing With Portfolio, which actual gives you the feeling of sound rushing through your mind, in one ear and out the other, back and forth like a ping-pong match being played through your head.

The real credit has to go to Mogwai Fear Satan. The 16 minute epic closer, There are few songs as brilliantly constructed, that use quiet/loud dynamics and the art of adding distortion and walls of sound to add more and more and allowing a song to build, as this one. There are few songs as unabashedly beautiful as this one. Emotion wells up in the heart, and everything in life becomes complete.  It’s beautiful and, in contrast with the rest of the album, joyful. Those drums contain a perfect beat to bring us in, and to make us part of this world. And it is a brilliant world. It’s nameless really. Like the rest of Young Team, you have to listen to it to understand.

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Black Swan

Comparisons to The Red Shoes were inevitable, but sort of misguided. They were simply made because The Red Shoes is one of the defining masterpieces of our generation, that it is timeless, and, most importantly, it is a ballet movie, a category which contains so few important movies. I remember the news felt odd when it first came out that Aronofsky was going to make a ballet movie, in the same way I was sort of skeptical when Fincher announced he was going to be making a movie about facebook. Ballet? Really? Leotards and jumping and prancing? Of course, this is bias, because the best ballet films get to the heart of the art, the emotional power it contains within those movements.

Whereas The Red Shoes wanted to enrapture your soul, Black Swan tries to hit you in your gut. The movie effortlessly builds tension, surreal imagery, and gut wrenching emotion until those final moments, and when the lights came up in the cinema I had that amazing feeling of my organs having been beaten, battered, and tossed around. The beginning sets up characters and story, simply and effectively, and adds little hints, Portman’s back, her bleeding fingers, etc. as the movie goes on, character development gets finished and tied up and loses its focus, and those hints are built on, the themes and mood heighten till you get those unbearably tense, imagistic, brilliant moments, Portman’s hallucinations backstage, that utterly surreal sex scene, those moments capture, and shock.

Aronofsky follows, his intense close-ups perfected after his wonderful technique on the Wrestler, but her the pain is front and center, the sort of monstrosity and hallucinations are psuhed to their full force, and hit hard. Aronosky also does a wonderful job, although credit has to be given to art direction, costume design, cinematography, et al, at bringing these ideas to life, whether the simplicity of simply creating a darker Portman, or the complexity of turning her into the black swan itself.

Portman is very good, and while she doesn’t quite deserve the awards buzz she is getting (I thought she could’ve played more scenes subtly and I get that this is camp in a way and virtuoso, but I thought she went too far.), as is Kunis, Cassell(He is fine, not great, but I enjoyed watching him), and Barbra Hershey(Who is alright, but like Cassell, not great).

Brilliant. Definitely worth seeing.

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Old Reviews

I have a couple of old reviews sitting in my computer which might be worth sharing. Granted, they are also reviews written a while ago, so they may also be, maybe not outdated opinions, but an outdated writing style. Anyways, it’s worth a read, as they are all quite short, so, here you go:

1984

When trying to critique a film, there are a couple of unwritten but universally known laws to how you should judge every film, not strict rules but rules that should be inherently obvious when you are even barely recognising the idea of observing why you like something. One, for example, is that no matter what everyone has their own opinion. Whether film is entirely subjective or not is entirely debatable, but it’s important to understand that.

Another important one is “The movie is NEVER the book” It’s hard to bring that sort of feeling when going into a film, but you have to try. It’s especially hard for something like 1984. Not only is it my favourite book of all time, but one of the things I love about it is how well Orwell is able to bring those images to life. And they are iconic images, Big Brother, Room 101, The Ministries, the city, the telescreens. A director trying to deal with making a film like this has to deal with the baggage of every single person who has read this book bringing their own imagery to the film.

What so interesting is that Michael Radford does the best job possible as a director, but as writer, also fails in a large way. First, the good things. Radford knows in some way that he won’t be able to bring this world to life in a way which will be as everyone sees them, but with some wonderful set design and a great use of shadows and composition of images by Roger Deakins (as is expected of Deakins) he is able to bring these locations and images to life in the way HE sees them as, and is able to bring them to life where even if it’s not exactly how we thought of them, it perfectly brings across the emotion we connect to these images. The imposing face of Big Brother, and the disgusting depravity of the living style. Radford, by some odd miracle, was able to bring these places and this world to life, which is amazing.

But other than the empty spaces of Oceania, Radford, in my opinion, didn’t bring the rest of the book to life, and squandered the movie in the process. The problem is that Radford didn’t want to exorcise anything out of the book, and so details which are so vividly brought to life are squandered because Radford wasn’t able to fully focus on them as he much as he needed to too fully bring them to life.

(SPOILER ALERT!!)

On great example of this is that, like the book, the movie is split into three acts, and  the event which shifts the story from the second to the third act involves Winston and Julia to be taken from their hideaway in the proletariat area to the Ministry of Love by the Thought police. in the book, Winston mentions the thought police all the time, in regards to paranoia about being caught, wondering whether Julia is a member, etc etc. But in the movie, Radford does not mention the Thought Police once until that scene. That’s perfectly fine, there’s no need for him to bring up The Thought Police as they aren’t needed in the general arc of the storyline, but just as Winston is being taken away he looks at the shopkeeper and whispers “The thought police.” and that phrase is never mentioned or explained for the rest of the movie. There’s no reason to have it there, but why is it then? (END SPOILER)

Another problem is then important plot elements are brought in hastily and then thrown away in a way where they can’t have any emotional impact. The revelation that the war has suddenly changed from being always against Eurasia to being always against Eastasia is the best example of this. The book gives it time, and shows it in a context which allows the full breadth of what the party is doing and the depression inherent in that act to sink in, but the movie simply passes over it by showing the ministry of truth working much harder then usual. The ideas aren’t communicated, and in a push to fit everything in they are stifled by a need to rush the storytelling.

This isn’t how it is for the whole movie. Radford slows down and cuts out portions in the third act about changing conditions, about how Winston moves from cell to cell, nourishment and depravity, and instead showcases a war of words between Winston and O’Brien. Hurt does a good job as Winston, the thought criminal who is on his last lifeline, but I felt as though he could have brought more to this part. It’s Richard Burton as O’Brien who steals this movie, so effortlessly and subtly inserting menace into every word. He is mesmerizing to watch as he ruthlessly pulls apart every belief Winston thought he had held. The third act, apart from some particularly awful scenes involving a chance encounter with his neighbour and the ending in the bar, is particularly wonderful to watch unfold. The only time I fully felt the emotion was the depression and pain in those dialogue scenes and the fear inherent in Room 101.

To finish off, I want to mention the music in the film. I’m wondering why the Eurythemics were picked to do the score, it feels to me as though the music was overpoweringly joyful, or at least simple and emotional, which felt like a release. It kept me outside of this world, from fully investing myself into the lives of these characters. The music should have added to the depravity, and instead pushed me away from it. In a way, that’s the problem with the film. It’s as if, in some way, no matter how wonderful the mise-en-scene is, the movie is pushing you away from the depravity as if it thinks you can’t handle it.

Twelve Monkeys

Hmmmm…..

Hmmmm…..

Talking about bananas would make as much sense as waxing rhapsodical about Gilliam’s work. Mentioning monkey outfits would seem as relevant as talking about time travel. Is this Gilliam’s genius? I think so. He makes the insane seem normal, the normal seem insane, and everyone lives in the same mass. Does this affect our lives? Like a virus? I think Gilliam has that power. But he doesn’t use it as much in other films I’ve seen by him. Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus used it, but it was working as levels of oddity more than anything else, and Time Bandits was nothing but fun (but SO much fun at that). Monty Python’s creations weren’t meant to affect your head.

Is it Twelve Monkeys which gives us this idea? I think so. After watching it, everything in life comes under question, and then the question is thrown away, leaving you to try to reconstruct reality. But reality is built from a morsel at birth, to destroy it is to destroy it forever. So, what is real Mr Gilliam? Or, maybe a better question is, does it matter whether anything else is?

It’s not just those questions which are floating in that large implement of thought I have, it’s more that in Gilliam’s world everybody is part of the same creation. It’s as if the world is constructed to fit around you, to control you or at least to conform to you. Does it? I don’t know.

Does anyone know?

Insanity and it’s sanity leaks out of every frame and word of this film. The bit of stunt casting of Willis is used to utter perfection. Working under a studio production, Gilliam gains control of one of the biggest stars under the hollywood system, and then abuses that privilege as much as possible. Willis is a character you expect to be in control, but he never is. He never knows what’s real, how to react, how to keep control of the situation, He constantly seems to be at sanity’s edge, not by what he’s saying, but by how he’s reacting to it. Willis plays Cole so perfectly it feels unreal, adding to the film.

Other delights come from a younger Brad Pitt, drafted as the clinically insane son of a virologist. It’s in these roles where Pitt excels, turning the recklessness of Tyler Durdan and combining it with the violent insanity of Jesse James (Yes, I know both of these were after Twelve Monkeys.) and then taking that character and exploding it. His twitches and turns, his yells and screams, he is truly on the edge. Is that a bad thing? Gilliam forces me to question, and I don’t know if I have an answer.

Sure Gilliam has imagery in all his movies to spare. But the symbols of monkeys, the snow swept, germ infested future world, those suits. They stick on the mind. Gilliam may not have captured the ending as well as he could have, nor did I think Madeleine Stowe brought anything interesting to her role at all. But bits and pieces don’t mean anything in the end right? Not when a movie has me gibbering on like this?

Take leave of your sanity, and maybe this film will answer questions. Keep it, and it will only plague you with thoughts, crushed by the knowledge of future events. A tough question that Gilliam forces you to ask, would you rather be insane and live peacefully, or sane and racked with the knowledge of future disasters?

Don’t Look Now

Nicholas Roeg’s masterpiece from 1973 reminds me a lot of the style of something like Deliverance. It bleeds that wonderful style employed by those artists who weren’t working at the top of the pile of The New Hollywood, of Midnight Cowboy and of Deliverance, of the grainy handheld style of those films. And like Midnight Cowboy and Deliverance, Don’t Look Now lives and breathes so freely in the confines of a particular setting. Midnight Cowboy captured the street life for two bums in New York City (?) and Deliverance meticulously traced the journey of a boat trip up a river. Don’t Look Now isn’t set in the canals of Venice, it lives it. It wraps itself around the bridge, the alleys, the water, the boats.

On top of that, Don’t Look Now has some wonderful imagery. There’s the obvious stuff, Sutherland holding his daughter on the banks of the river, The red hooded murderer wandering the streets, but even the less obvious, Of Julie Christie so beautifully trying to compose herself in the bathroom, shot in the mirror over the sink, Christie lighting candles in a church, any nighttime scene really, Sutherland hanging off a rope in the church. Roeg’ cinematography is wonderful.

All of this is to create a sense of tension in upcoming events. Even though what happens at the end isn’t the main plotline of the story, they are all created in to merge together at the end, but not nearly in the way you think they will. It’s particularly genius.

I’m trying to be as vague as possible in that regard. It’s a movie which unfolds so intricately. The pieces all unwind at a perfect pace, all are used even though you might not think so.

It’s also wonderfully constructed. Every aspect is great, from Graeme Clifford’s (awesome name) editing, Pino Donnagio’s music, Peter Davies’ sound, and Especially Anthony Richardson’s cinematography. This leads to the performances too. Julie Christie is luminous, but also so delicate of a personality, it’s devastating to watch play out. And Sutherland plays the everyman at the center of the film very well. A perfect film.

Vertigo

You know how, if you’ll be reading blurbs in those greatest movies of all time articles they have, more often then not as they get to the top, towards the stone cold classics, they will say stuff like “What more is there to be said? It’s a classic for a reason.” While I don’t doubt there’s a reason for it, it’s interesting because this act has been carried out for most classic movies for years now, and so for someone to be going into a movie fresh those thoughts and comments aren’t there. I feel like I can review Vertigo fresh, that what I say everyone understands but they communicate in a hush, a whisper and a nod, but I can talk about freely, as it has been so long since anyone has.

So what about Vertigo? Well, it seems that Vertigo, for all its insanity, seems to be less subversive then the two other big Hitchcock films I’ve seen, Rear Window and Psycho. Both of those movies tried to either make you complicit in the acts of characters and question the reason you are watching the movie in the first place, or trying to lull you into a false sensibility before tipping you upside, respectively. By those standards Vertigo is relatively straightforward. It lays out every plot point, every moment in front of you, and it’s hard not to see what is happening.

Vertigo includes some of the most brilliant work Hitchcock has ever done. Whereas before His touches would be the construction of a sequence in a way which ratchets up tension, here he is more interested not in tension but in ratcheting up the mood, by placing the viewer inside this world and yet at the same time making this world seem so strange and unreal. It’s the miniature touches that work this time, that multitude of little things which make or break a film. It’s the colours so vividly screaming at you from that first moment in Ernie’s, it’s the silhouette of a nun in the doorway, it’s the sound of the scream coming from a figure rushing past the open window, it’s every swirl of Bernard Hermann’s pitch perfect score.

The craft is hitchcockian, but the story is pure Shakespeare. Hitchcock weaves a truly grand story, one of great power, but more importantly he weaves these motifs throughout the film so perfectly, that I have to think of the virtuosity something like Macbeth has. The plotting in Vertigo is pitch perfect, down to the bone.

It was exciting, to able to watch this on a huge screen in a dark cinema, as the images washed over me, because it really allows you to highlight some of the brilliant camera and colourwork on display, but also because the movie doesn’t let up. As Mr Stewart gets more intimately engaged with Miss Novak, the construction seems to peel away bit by bit, and I feel as though things are deliberately disappearing. It’s still my contention that Miss Novak never existed in the first place, and some part of this is coming from Scotty’s head, and as the movie goes on, bar one or two scenes, this idea is supported by the generally fragmented nature of the film. By the time we get to that infamous dream sequence, the walls of filmmaking break down, and Hitchcock plays with the craft with a childlike glee, but also keeps the essence of the dream integral to the plot.

But, in the end, the thing I most attest to Vertigo is the way I felt watching it. I felt shook up, disturbed, and when I got up out of my seat at the end of the movie I was scared, shook up, I had to lie against the wall. My body was just in shock from the experience, and THAT the is the mark of a true masterpiece.

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Introductions

I will let you know now, for all those very few people who will be reading this, that all previous attempts at keeping a blog have gone horribly horribly wrong. Actually, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but there has been little success from blogs. I believe this one will be a success though, maybe cause I’m older? Wiser? More determined?

So, hello. this blog is here as a tool to sort of allow myself to write about things, and as an outline for thoughts on my mind and to allow myself some outlet for creativity and all that bio-jazz. It’s kind of a catharsis, but more it’s something I want to do because I have something to offer. I have so many areas I need to improve on in my writing. Most of all, I’m passionate. About the world, about life, every bit of it. And it’s nice to share passion.

The only things I am certain I am going to do is film and music reviews. Film is what I’m passionate about, and I’m going to try and review every single film I see on this blog. As well as that, I want to do music reviews, which will be more structured in terms of articles. I would like to review one new album I have never listened to each week, as well as reviewing a “classic” album each week, an old album I’ve listened to but would like to construct and share my thoughts on. It also helps because I have a list of my favourite 70 albums of all time, which these reviews will be taken from, with the aim of constructing a complete top 50 by the end of all this.

Other then that, It’s really just random ideas for articles or things I want to write about. I’d say more continual columns and topics will come out after time, but for now this is the gist of it.

BTW, in case you were wondering, the screenshot from Mononoke. It is my favourite movie of all time, my favourite thing of all time. Princess Mononoke encapsulates my soul, my memories, my ideas, my persona, more perfectly and vividly then I could have ever dreamed a piece of work could. It’s as perfect an introduction as any to my mind.

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