Friday 30 November 2007

Rasputin and the Empress (1932)

The Barrymores have been a major theatrical family for generations, but when I think about them, I normally think of siblings John, Ethel, and Lionel.  This is the only film in which they appear together (in fact it was Ethel's screen debut), so more's the pity that it is something of an over-stuffed mess.  (The fact that the print that I was watching was pretty poor didn't help either.)  As my favourite critic, Pauline Kael, wrote, it's as if the three of them were acting in three different rooms.

No need to mention the well-known tale, which follows the Czar's family through their murder.  What is potentially interesting here is the casting.  While normally the showiest of the three, John takes the lesser role as the courtier who is trying to rid the family of the mad monk.  However, in his long film career, John was never less than watchable, even in his final alcoholic years when he was probably reading off cue cards.  The sinister role of Rasputin went to brother Lionel and he shakes it like a dog with a bone, hamming it up with relish.  He was seldom given such meaty parts, especially when he spent the last ten years or so of his career in a wheelchair -- although he is a pretty mean villain in "It's a Wonderful Life".  Sister Ethel is somewhat disposable in the role of the Czarina; some of her later film appearances -- there were not that many -- were more memorable, especially as Cary Grant's Cockney mum in "None by the Lonely Heart" (1944) -- a strange bit of casting for both of them.

Oddly enough I also saw Lionel a few days ago in the silent film "The Bells" (1926) -- based on an old war-horse of a play, where again his was the barn-storming villainous role; getting into financial trouble and wanting to protect his family, he murders a rich travelling merchant, but is then haunted by what he has done -- the sound of bells, which is an interesting touch for a so-called silent.  However in this movie, the more memorable performance was given by Boris Karloff in his pre-horror days as a threatening "mesmerist" who tries to expose murderous Lionel, nearly acting him off the screen.

Wednesday 28 November 2007

The Guardian (2006)

One of the very first films I reviewed when I started blogging was Kevin Costner's "Open Range" (2003) which from memory I wrote that Costner was nearly very good in a well-thought out movie, since his early appeal has always been something of a mystery to me.  The only one of his films that I truly enjoyed was "Field of Dreams" way back when.  He has always had a touch of the Kirk Douglases about his movie persona with a strong "look at manly me" conceit.  However in this film he was not only at long last playing his age, but his heroics did not seem completely phoney.

He plays a Coast Guard rescue swimmer, past the usual retirement age, who loses a close associate in a disastrous rescue and who is also badly injured.  Refusing to retire, but unable to continue this work in the short term, he agrees to be the chief coach at the l8-week course for new recruits.  His hard-ass approach is unconventional, dismissing some of his charges within the first day, but he whittles the youngsters down to a well-qualified, gung-ho group.  Foremost amongst the trainees is Ashton Kutcher.  Again, as I have written previously, his early appearances in movies left me very cold to say nothing about his Demi Moore attachment, but after "The Butterfly Effect", I realised the boy can act, despite appearing in some disposable garbage in the meantime.  He is very good here as the overly confident ex-champion swimmer whose past holds the secret of why he has chosen his new career.  Between them,the two actors kept me watching what turned out to be an exhausting, overlong action movie, but the growing affection between the two leads made for a memorable climax -- even if it did end up again mythologizing Costner.

Parenthetically here, let me add that I also "saw" Kutcher in his voice-only role in the animation "Open Season" (2006) a few days ago.  While I normally have a soft spot for animated movies, too many of the recent ones try too hard, to the extent that they lose their charm.  In this one Kutcher voiced a one-antlered deer and I can confidentally state that it is the first time I have ever been asked to watch a cartoon animal poop!  Thank you but no thank you.

Monday 26 November 2007

Kings and Queen (2004)

OK, I admit it; I do occasionally nod off when watching films.  How else to explain the occasions when I end up seeing a movie where certain plot points and the actors seem vaguely familiar, but where I am convinced that the film is new to me.  Such was the case with this French film which I eventually worked out I had supposedly watched about a year and a half ago.  (Being something of a compulsive, I do keep various lists of what I have viewed -- but these are in more than one category and not necessarily alphabetical -- so I do find myself from time to time in the aforementioned puzzled state.)

So why else did I not remember it?  Probably because it was not overly memorable or gripping.  Like so many French films it was something of a slice of life with two main characters: a single mother who has gone to visit her ailing father and a slightly scatty violinist who has been detained at a mental hospital by the petition of a "third party".  We are halfway through the movie before we are let in on the information that Ishmael was Nora's second "husband".  She has not actually ever been married, having petitioned the courts to "marry" her child's father after his death so that the boy can bear his name.  Now she is about to actually wed a rich man who doesn't connect with the child and she wants Ishmael to adopt him, since they always got along well -- being something of a childish personality himself.

That's about it, apart from the incidental information that Nora was probably responsible for her first lover's "suicide" and the fact that she almost certainly killed her father to ease his suffering.  So she's not a particularly nice person and it was more than a little difficult to empathise with such a selfish soul.  The actress playing the part was Emmanuelle Devos and people kept telling her how gorgeous she was -- which she wasn't to my eyes.  Mathieu Amalric playing Ishmael was by far the more interesting character, but not enough to sustain one's affections or attention.  Catherine Deneuve had a small role as the hospital psychiatrist and added almost nothing to the experience.  I think I'm unlikely to have to face this film a third time.

Saturday 24 November 2007

Journey to the Center of the Earth (1959)

This is one movie that certainly bears re-watching, but not too frequently.  An Edinburgh professor, James Mason -- with his distinctive voice which I could listen to reciting the telephone directory -- forms an expedition to follow certain clues and travel to the earth's core (which fortunately is not the ball of fire that it undoubtedly actually is).  His party consists of his student Pat Boone -- there was an unfortunate trend at about this time to cast popular singers in leading roles (and thinking about it, this trend still continues), Arlene Dahl as the comely widow of his murdered rival who insists upon accompanying him in memory of her husband, arguing that she is the only one who can communicate with Icelandic Hunk, Peter Ronson, and the hunk's duck!  Yes, you read that correctly, his pet duck is called Gertrude.

Filled with imaginative design including a selection of prehistoric monsters and graced with a literate script and a magnificent Bernard Herrmann score, this is the kind of family treat which deserves to live on to charm new audiences.  It's probably a little leisurely in its exposition and a little self-indulgent in granting Boone the occasional song ("Jules Verne the Musical"?), but still a fun watch with a truly hissable villain.  Yes, they still do make them like this -- just not often enough.  Certainly the TV remake with Treat Williams in the James Mason role is not really in the same league. 

Thursday 22 November 2007

Exiles (2004)

Here's another road movie in French and Arabic, but less involving and more puzzling than "Le Grand Voyage" below.  A pair of free-spirited lovers played by Romain Duris as Zano, the grandson of a French family thrown out of Algeria during a period of political unrest, and Lubna Azabel as Naima, the daughter of an Algerian father who has not passed on his heritage, language, or religion, decide as a whim to travel from France to Algeria.  "Travel" in this instance is not anything as straightforward as booking a flight, but a combination of fare-dodging on trains, stowing away on a ship (which it turns out is headed for Morocco rather than Algeria), and mainly what I call "Shanks Pony", i.e. on foot.  They have neither a map nor sufficient funds, but eventually make their way through Spain -- taking some casual work en route -- and across the closed border between Morocco and Algeria.  I was puzzled by a number of shots which showed them walking against the crowd -- but perhaps this was meant to be symbolic or something.

Naima is a free spirit and is totally unprudish about displaying her body or demanding sex (not always with boyfriend Zano either), and is promptly told off in Algiers for her immodest dress.  Her attempt to cover up demurely lasts about fifteen minutes and the matter is then dropped.  Zano visits his family's old apartment which (very unlikely) is still full of his family's effects and photos and, in the final minutes of the film, his grandfather's grave. Naima who is portrayed as totally rootless is told by an old biddy that she is cursed and that she must ground herself;  she and Zano then take part in what I can only describe as a musical exorcism ceremony where they engage in frantic origastic dancing.  This scene seemed to go on f-o-r-e-v-e-r and I was none the wiser afterwards as to what it represented.  The music, however, was fascinating as were some earlier gypsy and flamenco interlundes, but the film itself didn't convince me that either one of them had found the cure for their malaise.

Tuesday 20 November 2007

French history lessons

I finally got around to viewing Sofia Coppola's weird "Marie Antoinette (2006) and while it was lovely to look at it was ever-so-slow and overstretched into its two hour running time.  Kirsten Dunst plays Marie as a shopaholic Valley Girl who manages to grow -- we are led to believe -- into a regal role.  I thought she was marginally too old to play the young Dauphine, but then again this casting was a probable improvement on 36-year old Norma Shearer in the classic MGM 1938 version.  (Mind you being married to the studio production chief enabled her to play the youthful Juliet two years earlier).  As her sexually-disinterested husband, Jason Schwartzman (a fine example of nepotistic casting  since he is Coppola's first cousin) was not a patch on Robert Morley in the earlier movie and said his lines as if he was reading from a teleprompter.  In a high profile cast, only Rip Torn as the dissolute old king and Asia Argento as his mistress Madame DuBarry breathed any life into the decorative but somehow tedious proceedings.

Also within the last day or so I rewatched "Conquest" (1937), known in Britain as the less meaningful and more unpronounceable "Marie Walewska" which was the name of Greta Garbo's character, a Polish noblewoman married to an elderly gentleman who is encouraged to sacrifice her honour to Napoleon's lust in a bid to save Poland.  Her husband annuls their marriage and she becomes the Emperor's mistress; when she finds that she is pregnant and about to break the news, he announces that he must marry a royal princess to establish his dynasty.  So Garbo nobly and silently withdraws from the scene for many years.  Napoleon here is played by Charles Boyer or rather he amazingly inhabits the role of the bumptious upstart, prepared to sacrifice everything and anything for his continued (but doomed) conquest of Europe.  This was one of MGM's most prestigious and expensive productions, but frankly it feels overstuffed and airless, and even the gorgeous Garbo seems subdued.  But with a supporting cast numbering (among others) Reginald Owen (see his Scrooge below), Henry Stephenson, Dame May Whitty, and the always memorable Maria Ouspenskaya, I'll take this film over Coppola's ornate romp any time.

Saturday 17 November 2007

Le Grand Voyage (2004)

This French-Moroccan production is something of an oddity and unlikely to be to all tastes in the current political climate, but it is certainly a strange sort of road movie.  The character only billed as "The Father" is a Moroccan Arab who has lived in France for some thirty years without noticeably assimilating.  His second son Reda, however, feels more French than Arab or Muslim.  When his father decides that he is getting on and must make the pilgrimage to Mecca before he dies, Reda is obliged to put his own life on hold and to drive his father the 3000-odd miles each way, after his elder brother loses his driving license.

That he is reluctant to do so is only the start of the problem since there are so may gaps between the pair -- language, generation, and belief.  The strain between them worsens when Reda discovers that his father has binned his mobile telephone some 200 miles back -- his only link to his non-Muslim girlfriend.  When he asks why his father could not fly to Mecca like everyone else, he gets a philosophical reply that the more difficult the journey, the more meaningful it is.  So we follow the pair across Italy, Croatia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Syria, and Jordan with no time allowed for any sightseeing en route.  What we do get are scenes of their being lost because the father who can not read maps insists that certain roads be taken, having their back seat occupied by first a peasant woman with whom they can not communicate and then a supposedly helpful Turk who steals their money (or not, as it happens), finding themselves literally snowed in when they spend the night in their car in the mountains, and their hand-to-mouth travels and travails on the road.

At least once Reda storms off in disgust since he is unable to communicate with his father or to understand his dogged insistance that they reach Mecca, but ultimately they do for their eight-night Haj.  When the father does not return at the end of the first day to their campsite outside the city. a frantic Reda goes in search of him among the throngs of pilgrims. (The actual views of the shrine at Mecca and the hordes of believers is quite staggering).  He is unable to find him and becomes more and more hysterical, until security guards take him to a vault full of shrouded corpses...   It's a heartwrenching finale to the reluctant youth's journey into manhood.

Thursday 15 November 2007

The Moon is Down (1943)

During the Second World War, the Hollywood studios produced a number of morale-boosting movies and this is one of the most moving of the "resistance" sub genre.  I also really like "This Land is Mine" of the same year, but that was more of a prestige production, directed by Jean Renoir in exile and with a heavy-hitting cast, led by the superlative Charles Laughton as a coward forced to take a stand.  The film here has rather less exalted credentials, although based on a John Steinbeck novel from the previous year, but it states its case with great aplomb.

A Norwegian village has been taken over by the Nazis because of its strategic coal mine, with the inhabitants unable to put up any meaningful initial resistance.  However this starts a silent war between the resentful townspeople and their invaders.  The two sides are embodied by the ever-so civilized commander, played by Sir Cedric Hardwicke, and the simple yet clever mayor, played by Henry Travers (everyone's favourite angel Clarence from "It's a Wonderful Life").  They maintain a surface politeness, but each knows that the other side will never completely give in.  As acts of sabotage increase and as the Germans retaliate with more and more executions, even the lives of Travers and the town doctor, Lee J. Cobb, are insufficient motivation for their friends to stop their resistance -- and both are prepared to die for what they know will be an ultimate victory.  Part of the film's strength is that most of the actors are little-known, but the belief in their humanity and goodness is visible in each anonymous face.  When they raise their voices as one in a patriotic song, you can tell (through your tears, if you are like me) that they will prevail. 

Tuesday 13 November 2007

A Christmas Carol (1938)

This tale has been filmed so many times -- and opinion seems to vary wildly as to who is the definitive Scrooge -- but this is, as far as I know, the first talkie version -- an A-list production by a major Hollywood studio with something of a B-list cast.  Before I go any further I shall stake my claim that Alastair Sim in 1951's "Scrooge" (just to confuse matters, called "A Christmas Carol" in the States) nails the role perfectly, with the right combination of humbug eventually morphing to humanity.  I know that some people feel that George C. Scott in the 1984 production is superior (no way, Jose) and goodness knows there have been all manner of riffs on the subject since -- female Scrooge, black Scrooge, black female Scrooge, musical Scrooge, ad nauseum.

This early black and white production is hardly faithful to the novel with various minor changes, but it is still a totally satisfying endeavour.  Scrooge is played here by character actor Reginal Owen, a frequent face in dozens of 30s movies, but almost never as a lead.  His lean and stooping frame is perfect for the part and he certainly makes a brave effort.  Gene Lockhart in the role of Bob Cratchitt is far too plump to be believable, but he too seems to welcome a meatier role.  The rest of the cast is relatively minor, although there are early parts for Leo G. Carroll as Marley's Ghost and a very young Ann Rutherford also puts in an appearance.  While this movie will never supplant the 1951 version in my affections, it is a totally acceptable contribution to one's Christmas viewing.  Owen's conversion may appear far too abrupt, but the viewer is still left with the necessary seasonal glow.

Sunday 11 November 2007

The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

Since I had previously read the novel of the same name on which this film was based -- typically disposable light reading -- I didn't come to this movie with particularly great expectations.  The book was written by an erstwhile lackey of  Vogue's fashionista Anna Wintour and the author's venom managed to leak over each page;  her story is of an ambitious and talented young graduate (based of course on herself), who forsees a brilliant intellectual future, having to subject herself to the whims of an autocratic editor of a high-fashion magazine -- the relevant roles taken here by Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep. Now just about any non-anorexic young actress could have played the Hathaway role and I guess she did a reasonable job of the serious soul being seduced by the surface glamour and the demands of the job.  What in fact saved the movie from being totally pedestrian was the casting of Streep, who makes the editor a far less one-dimensional monster than the same character in the book.  As I have written previously, perhaps I am softening with the years; while Streep used to annoy the hell out of me with her "actorly" skills, I now find that I am able to admire her total immersion into a part.  One could read her "monster" here as a woman whose determination hid a core intelligence and a masked, yet tangible, vulnerability.

Some praise is also due to Stanley Tucci playing the magazine's fashion director and Hathaway's quasi-mentor who dominated his every scene with his sly humour.  Also, Emily Blunt in her first major American role as Streep's hungry (in every sense) first assistant did a great job in projecting her neediness and determination.  With all these interesting characters, it's a pity in a way that it was Hathaway's about which we were meant to care most.

Friday 9 November 2007

Sophie Scholl: The Final Days (2005)

I knew that this German film had been Oscar-nominated (without winning) and  that it was about a student resistance group in Germany during the middle years of World War II, but I was not prepared for the gut-wrenching experience it was as it traced the last six days in the life of a young woman.  Sophie Scholl, vividly brought to life by actress Julia Jentsch, and her brother were members of a group called the White Rose who aimed to foster anti-war sentiments in the hope that this would bring a quicker end to the slaughter.  When they are caught distributing their manifesto at their University, their struggle came to an abrupt end with their arrest, interrogation, kangaroo-court trial, and execution, all within a few days.  The claustrophobic atmosphere was nearly overwhelming. 

At first Sophie denied all involvement in an attempt to protect her brother, but when she was shown his signed confession, she proudly acknowledged what she had done and what she believed, without further implicating any of her friends.  At her so-called trial where she had hoped her beliefs would be heard by the public, the courtroom was filled with Nazi officers and the pompous judge in no way allowed a fair hearing.  She could only counter with the words that he might soon be standing in the same dock.  When convicted, she expected the usual 99 days before the sentence was carried out, but she, her brother, and a married friend with a young family were rushed into a hurried and undignified execution.  What was most moving about this reconstruction of a real-life heroine's attempt to make the world a better place was the clear indication that here was a young woman who really loved life and who deserved so much more.  The scene as she feels the sunlight on her face for the last time as she is dragged to her hasty end was unbearably moving.

Wednesday 7 November 2007

Simon Says (2006)

I watched an interesting documentary a few days ago titled "Going to Pieces: The Rise and Fall of the Slasher Film" which took a semi-serious approach to this horror sub-genre starting with the original "Halloween" and "Friday the 13th" and tracing its development throughout the 80s when every conceivable holiday was milked for an excuse to slaughter more promiscuous teens.  Slasher movies are still very much with us and even the recidivist "Scream" did not kill them off.  Mind you, they haven't improved too much over the years, and the only appeal to a dyed-in-the-wool horror buff like myself is for new and innovative ways of killing to be introduced,  This would possibly explain the popularity of the (progressingly worse) "Saw" series.

The only other thing that can delight me nowadays is having a truly iconic actor in the boogeyman role, which is what one has here with creepy Crispin Glover.  He plays redneck twins who have slaughtered their parents (and eventually the one kills the other) who get their kicks from the usual wheeze of disposing of nubile young ladies, muscular young men, and all potheads.  Glover has been such a noticeable actor since he came to the fore playing Michael J. Fox's dad in the first "Back to the Future" film (he is actually three years younger). In subsequent movies his parts may not have been large, except in the icky remake of "Willard", but his is a face you remember with shivers.  This particular movie is no great shakes with its disposable cast, but it is a somewhat affectionate throwback to earlier movies and does have some inventive deaths by flying pickaxes!  It also proves the convention that a true boogeyman is indestructable when the nominal 'heroine' does not quite manage to kill him and is saved for an amusing coda at the film's end (which I won't reveal here).

So, am I praising this movie?  Not really, but it has its moments and anything featuring Glover is bound to please a horror fan, even if he is probably so far over the top here as could be.  I do love the fact that his full birth name is Crispin Hellion Glover.

Monday 5 November 2007

East is East (1999)

If there is anything more annoying than having a catchy tune constantly running through one's head, it is hearing such a tune and not having any idea whatsoever what it is or why one knows it.  Recently there was a TV series called 'British Film Forever' and there was one clip from the above movie; the minute I heard the snippet of melody behind the scene, I thought "Oh yes!", but didn't know why.  After plaguing me for weeks, the only answer was to watch the movie again.  To put my mind at rest and to preserve my own sanity, I shall record here that the tune was "The Banner Man" by Blue Mink which forms the background music to the opening titles and very funny first scene.  However I still don't know why I recognized it.

Actually it was no chore watching this movie again.  Set in the north of England in the early seventies, it is the story of a Pakistani immigrant (Om Puri) who has married an Englishwoman (Linda Bassett) -- although it is implied that he already has a wife back home -- and has seven children.  While Puri wants to indoctrinate his family in traditional ways, the kids are sufficiently westernized to want to make their own way of life and their mother just wants them to be happy.  The eldest son is already persona non grata by walking out at his arranged marriage (it turns out he is gay) and the next two sons want nothing to do with meeting their 'chosen brides' (and very ugly they were too); as Jimi Mistry says, "I ain't marrying a Paki".  In frustration Puri uses his fists against his wife and most obedient son who is protecting his brother, until an uneasy truce is reached.  If this makes the movie sound grim, it really isn't.  What we have mainly are various scenes of the family's inbuilt culture clash -- some of which are wickedly funny -- and a probably fairly realistic look at a whole new generation.

Saturday 3 November 2007

Hannibal Rising (2007)

I refuse to argue whether Anthony Hopkins or Brian Cox made the better Hannibal Lector, but I have some respect for both interpretations and have been more or less a fan of the series since I first read the original novel.  In the last book there was some indication of Lector's backstory and this film develops it into a full and generally satisfying prequel.  Since it was written by the original author, Thomas Harris, one can't quibble too much that the picture is not faithful to his vision.  Generally the information we have had previously is fleshed out and we are led to understand how he became the "monster" that he did.  Surprisingly, the viewer is even left with some sympathy for his character, given the horrific unfolding of events.  Without giving away too much, one already knew that his sister had been eaten by starving soldiers during World War II; here we discover how the human part of him was destroyed at the same time and how he swore to take his revenge.  That this subsequently developed into a taste for human flesh is not at issue here.

If I have any quibbles with this movie, it is with the casting.  A relatively unknown (which is OK) French actor, Gaspard Ulliel, plays the teenaged Lector and a pretty convincing job he makes of it.  However there is no way on earth that he could have grown up to be either Hopkins or Cox for that matter.  I admit this may be  nit-picking.  The next problem I have is with the choice of Gong Li to play his uncle's widow in France, Lady Murasaki; not that she isn't a fine actress, but why in the world does her character have to be Japanese when she is Chinese.  (I know, the viewer is not supposed to notice such small discrepancies!)  However my final problem with the 'name' cast is finding Rhys Ifans as the big, bad, sadistic main villain; he carries too much baggage as a feckless, slightly goony creature to be the least bit believable here.  However, all that apart, I see no reason why this entry will not generally please Lector's fans.

Thursday 1 November 2007

Fay Grim (2006)

This was my final selection from the just-ended London Film Festival and I'm afraid I found it something of a parson's egg.  I used to be very keen on the films of indie director Hal Hartley with their smart deadpan dialogue and off-beat characters, but he has done very little of late and the last movie of his that I watched (at a previous LFF) "The Girl from Monday" was absolute twaddle.  I must admit here that I have not seen "No Such Thing" from 2001 which has joined those missing pictures under the floorboards.

Anyhow his last remarkable movie was "Henry Fool" back in 1997 and when I heard that he had re-united the main cast for a sequel, I was ready to welcome this with open arms.  Back are Thomas Jay Ryan as the enigmatic Henry Fool -- who may or may not be dead since he disappeared at the end of the earlier movie, Indie-Queen Parker Posey in the title role as his estranged wife, and James Urbaniak as her garbageman-cum-avant garde poet from Queens brother, Simon.  Joining the mix is CIA spook Jeff Goldblum.  For the first hour or so my reaction was "Hartley's back" as the sharp scripting, spot-on acting, and growingly absurd situations caught my fancy; however increasingly I felt that he had lost  both the plot and his way by a trying to be ever-so-clever and switching the storyline to one about terrorists.  It seems that Henry may have been a double or triple agent back in his earlier years and everyone is dead keen to get their hands on his notebooks which previously had been dismissed as hopeless literary drivel.

To make matters worse the characters were no longer consistent with their previous incarnations, and when Hartley set up the action for a possible third installment (in another nine years?) my reaction was 'God help us'.  However to give credit where credit is due, Posey was magnificent in the lead role and one can only hope that Hartley can tame his dubious instincts to give the viewer a contemporary political story and stick to the off-beat approach which has served him well in the past.  I can't even excuse this lapse by arguing that he was really presenting a tongue-in-cheek satire -- I just don't buy that.

P.S. (as 6 Nov): This post has disappeared from technorati -- UPDATE please!!!
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