I am baffled by the obsession of sitting in the back of the cinema. Every time I go to buy my tickets for an allocated session the girl at the box office, apologetically tells me something along the lines of, “um the best I can do is three rows from the back in the middle”. Is there anything three rows from the front? I ask. She looks relieved and happily tells me there is plenty available near the front. The absurdity of all this particularly struck me in a small cinema where there were ten people crammed into the back two rows with the rest of the theatre empty.
The only reason I can think of for this obsession is a hangover from the old tradition of making out, snogging, necking or whatever you like to call it, with your date at the back…when it used to be naughty. But in these liberal times who goes to the cinema to get hot and heavy anymore? Perhaps I’m just loser who believes in the sanctity of movie watching. Or perhaps I don’t understand the fire of teenage passions.
Furthermore, these myths of your neck getting sore if you sit too close to the screen are rubbish. I’m paying money to see this film so I want to be as close as possible to the big screen so I can have the full movie-going experience!
I don’t think the cinema will ever die (no matter how easy it is to watch films in your own home, on the road, or pretty much wherever you damn like these days). There is something about going to the movie that is a special experience. Sitting a darkened room, filled with strangers, engulfed by the giant screen and surround sound. The experience is at once individual and communal. It puts you in an environment to be completely absorbed by what is happening on screen, which can not be replicated in the home. It’s a ritual, it’s an experience. All the psychoanalytical theory about Plato’s cave and Lacan’s mirror phase aside, each time you go to the cinema it is a unique experience. It’s a pity so many popular films are largely underwhelming, churned out by the Hollywood manufacturing line – predictable, clichéd, mindless and forgettable (not that I’m against pop culture per se, there’s something to be said for it too but I’ll save that for another rant). I love seeing works of the masters on the big screen. The magic of their genius is enhanced by the cinematic atmosphere.
What makes me believe in cinema is when I walk out and I feel like I’ve had an experience, like I’ve lived through something special. It’s the way cinema can be visceral, the experience of watching becomes a part of you. And it stays with you long after you have left the theatre.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Wajda's Kanal
Stark, dirty, horrific portrayals of war have become common over the years but what really sets great war films apart is the ability to focus on a group of interesting characters in extraordinary circumstances. Andrzej Wajda’s Kanal is an amazing achievement portraying an incident from the Warsaw uprising.
In a city torn apart by World War II, Lieutenant ‘Zadra’ and his rag-tag group of soldiers are attempting to hold off the inevitable German invasion at the last line of defence during the Warsaw Resistance. The film really hits its straps when the resistance group is ordered to withdraw and the film follows their descent into the city’s sewers. It is appropriate that the artist of the bunch quotes Dante as they descend into what can only be described as hell on earth. The cinematography evokes this with the fog rising off the sewer’s liquid depths and the visceral effect of darkness and claustrophobia, which is at time expressionistic. A floating body appears ghost-like in its paleness and gas-induce moaning.
Arguably all war films are horror films but Kanal effectively makes the turn into the horror genre. From the seeming openness of the war ravaged town, the mis en scene of sewers is reminiscent of the horror genre (like the lair of a monster). You can never be sure what is around the next corner and Wajda builds tension admirably conveying the dirtiness and claustrophobia of the sewer tunnels.
The company is faced with the dual threats pressing on them from above and below. Above it is the possibility of any moment emerging into the face of a German pistol. Below it is the gas, the panic and confusion in the maze of seemingly identical tunnels, the dirtiness of wading through knee deep excrement, the darkness and fading torches, and most of all the madness that results from all of this. A man’s mind can be his own worst enemy and as the characters start to doubt their own eyes so does the audience. Is the artist really hearing music or is he going mad with the fumes? Is the moaning a man or a beast? Are the lights ahead friendly torches or a German ambush?
The film features an ensemble of distinct characters, whose personalities and interactions shape their fates. The stoic lieutenant, who is devoted to the company and feels his only duty is to his men. The dreamy artist, musician and poet, who only joined the company a few days ago and is doomed to wander the misty sewers playing his pipe for eternity. He becomes a part of this hallucinary underworld landscape. The youthful idealist, who thinks he can still make a difference, throwing himself into battle and who, as one lieutenants puts it, is ‘too young to appreciate living’. The young girl ready to die for love. The dashing soldier who uses alcohol to dull the pain but is hiding the truth.
In the mayhem of the sewers the chronology of events becomes distorted. As the film cuts between different groups of the company who have became separated in the initial chaos, Wajda provides some interesting visual clues as to the timelines of their journeys. This adds to the tragedy, with the audience knowing their companions have (or will) pass the same spot. Although the narrator warns the audience from the outset that none of the characters will make it through the night, you are still sucked into the cycles of hope and despair so poignantly portrayed. You find yourself hoping against hope that this group will make it and characters you have invested in come so close that you feel the anguish of hope being extinguished at the moment of its peak. As the fates of the characters are revealed one by one, you can feel the full weight of the tragedy of coming oh so close. Furthermore, it is often personal relationships which cloud the characters’ decisions adding to the heartbreak. The final image of duty (and perhaps madness) is striking and haunting.
In a city torn apart by World War II, Lieutenant ‘Zadra’ and his rag-tag group of soldiers are attempting to hold off the inevitable German invasion at the last line of defence during the Warsaw Resistance. The film really hits its straps when the resistance group is ordered to withdraw and the film follows their descent into the city’s sewers. It is appropriate that the artist of the bunch quotes Dante as they descend into what can only be described as hell on earth. The cinematography evokes this with the fog rising off the sewer’s liquid depths and the visceral effect of darkness and claustrophobia, which is at time expressionistic. A floating body appears ghost-like in its paleness and gas-induce moaning.
Arguably all war films are horror films but Kanal effectively makes the turn into the horror genre. From the seeming openness of the war ravaged town, the mis en scene of sewers is reminiscent of the horror genre (like the lair of a monster). You can never be sure what is around the next corner and Wajda builds tension admirably conveying the dirtiness and claustrophobia of the sewer tunnels.
The company is faced with the dual threats pressing on them from above and below. Above it is the possibility of any moment emerging into the face of a German pistol. Below it is the gas, the panic and confusion in the maze of seemingly identical tunnels, the dirtiness of wading through knee deep excrement, the darkness and fading torches, and most of all the madness that results from all of this. A man’s mind can be his own worst enemy and as the characters start to doubt their own eyes so does the audience. Is the artist really hearing music or is he going mad with the fumes? Is the moaning a man or a beast? Are the lights ahead friendly torches or a German ambush?
The film features an ensemble of distinct characters, whose personalities and interactions shape their fates. The stoic lieutenant, who is devoted to the company and feels his only duty is to his men. The dreamy artist, musician and poet, who only joined the company a few days ago and is doomed to wander the misty sewers playing his pipe for eternity. He becomes a part of this hallucinary underworld landscape. The youthful idealist, who thinks he can still make a difference, throwing himself into battle and who, as one lieutenants puts it, is ‘too young to appreciate living’. The young girl ready to die for love. The dashing soldier who uses alcohol to dull the pain but is hiding the truth.
In the mayhem of the sewers the chronology of events becomes distorted. As the film cuts between different groups of the company who have became separated in the initial chaos, Wajda provides some interesting visual clues as to the timelines of their journeys. This adds to the tragedy, with the audience knowing their companions have (or will) pass the same spot. Although the narrator warns the audience from the outset that none of the characters will make it through the night, you are still sucked into the cycles of hope and despair so poignantly portrayed. You find yourself hoping against hope that this group will make it and characters you have invested in come so close that you feel the anguish of hope being extinguished at the moment of its peak. As the fates of the characters are revealed one by one, you can feel the full weight of the tragedy of coming oh so close. Furthermore, it is often personal relationships which cloud the characters’ decisions adding to the heartbreak. The final image of duty (and perhaps madness) is striking and haunting.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Before the Devil Knows You're Dead - Review
I’d been meaning to see this film for while, having read some flattering reviews about it. I was disappointed. Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is an accomplished film with good performances and a solid script but it lacked that extra spark to make it memorable.
The first third works well with its time-hopping structure, telling the story of the robbery (central to the subsequent events) through the point of view of four different characters. In this way the audience is actively involved in the film, having to incrementally piece together the information in order to fully comprehend the tragedy which has already unfolded. This structure is effective in presenting the idea of fate, where a character’s destiny is predetermined and the audience has been granted a portal to the future. What the film does well is present chains of cause and effect, where a meeting or conversation will have a consequence later in the sequence of events. The problem is it often flags important objects and conversations too obviously and there were very few surprises in this film for me. Some of the twists could be seen coming a mile off.
Changing the chronology of events is not a new device and it’s been done better before (for example Tarantino’s revolutionary Pulp Fiction and Alejandro Gonzalez mortally depressing 21 Grams or the better Amores Perros).
Once the initiating event is explained, the film loses momentum. The middle section of the film descends into family drama, which is rather uninteresting and filled with issues which is typical fodder in film these days (the oldest brother feeling unloved and underappreciated by his father, the wife sleeping with her husband’s more attractive brother, the divorced dad struggling to give his young daughter all that she is desires). The tension is variable throughout the film and is finally cranked up towards the end but drops off again as the film goes too far in needless violence showing the true nastiness of the characters. We already know they’re nasty – they planned to rob their own parents’ store!
The major problem is the Andy Hanson (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) character. He shows no true human feelings anywhere in the film and remains an inaccessible character towards the end. Even his reaction to his wife’s departure is calculated, as he methodically pushes things off tables, never in a true rage and never actually breaking anything. Since this character lacks any shred of sympathy, I couldn’t care less what happened to him. In fact none of the characters develop throughout the film and continue their, by now, predictable behaviour. So by the ‘shocking’ finale you just feel like you are watching events unfold to their inevitable conclusion.
They had better hope they get to heaven before the devil finds out because this whole family lacks redemption!
Three and half stars – Above average but nasty at the heart
The first third works well with its time-hopping structure, telling the story of the robbery (central to the subsequent events) through the point of view of four different characters. In this way the audience is actively involved in the film, having to incrementally piece together the information in order to fully comprehend the tragedy which has already unfolded. This structure is effective in presenting the idea of fate, where a character’s destiny is predetermined and the audience has been granted a portal to the future. What the film does well is present chains of cause and effect, where a meeting or conversation will have a consequence later in the sequence of events. The problem is it often flags important objects and conversations too obviously and there were very few surprises in this film for me. Some of the twists could be seen coming a mile off.
Changing the chronology of events is not a new device and it’s been done better before (for example Tarantino’s revolutionary Pulp Fiction and Alejandro Gonzalez mortally depressing 21 Grams or the better Amores Perros).
Once the initiating event is explained, the film loses momentum. The middle section of the film descends into family drama, which is rather uninteresting and filled with issues which is typical fodder in film these days (the oldest brother feeling unloved and underappreciated by his father, the wife sleeping with her husband’s more attractive brother, the divorced dad struggling to give his young daughter all that she is desires). The tension is variable throughout the film and is finally cranked up towards the end but drops off again as the film goes too far in needless violence showing the true nastiness of the characters. We already know they’re nasty – they planned to rob their own parents’ store!
The major problem is the Andy Hanson (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) character. He shows no true human feelings anywhere in the film and remains an inaccessible character towards the end. Even his reaction to his wife’s departure is calculated, as he methodically pushes things off tables, never in a true rage and never actually breaking anything. Since this character lacks any shred of sympathy, I couldn’t care less what happened to him. In fact none of the characters develop throughout the film and continue their, by now, predictable behaviour. So by the ‘shocking’ finale you just feel like you are watching events unfold to their inevitable conclusion.
They had better hope they get to heaven before the devil finds out because this whole family lacks redemption!
Three and half stars – Above average but nasty at the heart
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Venus and Adonis - Malthouse April 2008
Postmodern deconstructive (or whatever the current catch phrase is) theatre is often lost on me. Assumedly there was a lot of workshopping that went into this piece where the actresses would subconsciously respond to the text, attempting different physicalities and deliveries with the director picking out the ones that she/he most liked. The problem is for the audience on the whole it is random. Why is this particular line hissed? Why the sudden dog-like panting? And the simulated solitary sex…don’t get me started on that! The audience reaction to this postmodernism seemed to be awkward chuckles not sure whether to take it as a joke or as a serious statement on…something.
Venus and Adonis is a poem of female obsessive desire. Thus it was appropriate that it was performed by two women, leaving Adonis up to the imagination (or in some cases projected onto the audience) was appropriate. But unless you are familiar with the poem, there is confusion as to which of his lines I have been appropriated by the female leads.
But here are the things I liked:
a) the musicians in a jungle cage – the only visual reference that the original tale took place in the wilderness (unfortunately we do not get to see Adonis’ battle with the boar)
b) the actress’ floorlength ponytails – an example of over-exaggerated symbols of femininity
c) some of the singing – except when I thought they were going to break into ABBA’s Mama Mia
Updating Shakespeare’s work to modern contexts has been a trend for a number of years, of course the best known example being Baz Luhrman’s film Romeo and Juliet (as well as a number MTC productions). Certainly Shakespeare’s work lends itself to this with its universal themes and a need to make it accessible to contemporary audiences. I love my Shakespeare. I love it to wash over me, to enjoy the delivery. This washed over me so completely I nearly fell asleep. The delivery was disjointed and at times plain rough, obviously intentionally, but the joy of Shakespeare is in the rhythms of his writing. When you hack up the text like this it loses that.
Venus and Adonis is a poem of female obsessive desire. Thus it was appropriate that it was performed by two women, leaving Adonis up to the imagination (or in some cases projected onto the audience) was appropriate. But unless you are familiar with the poem, there is confusion as to which of his lines I have been appropriated by the female leads.
But here are the things I liked:
a) the musicians in a jungle cage – the only visual reference that the original tale took place in the wilderness (unfortunately we do not get to see Adonis’ battle with the boar)
b) the actress’ floorlength ponytails – an example of over-exaggerated symbols of femininity
c) some of the singing – except when I thought they were going to break into ABBA’s Mama Mia
Updating Shakespeare’s work to modern contexts has been a trend for a number of years, of course the best known example being Baz Luhrman’s film Romeo and Juliet (as well as a number MTC productions). Certainly Shakespeare’s work lends itself to this with its universal themes and a need to make it accessible to contemporary audiences. I love my Shakespeare. I love it to wash over me, to enjoy the delivery. This washed over me so completely I nearly fell asleep. The delivery was disjointed and at times plain rough, obviously intentionally, but the joy of Shakespeare is in the rhythms of his writing. When you hack up the text like this it loses that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)