shanejamesbordas Reviews

Who Are You, Polly Maggoo? (1966)

Where Is Your Film, William Klein?

[7/10 · 27 May 2008]

Although certainly superior to the other two releases in the Eclipse 3 DVD set of William Klein films, 'Who Are You, Polly Maggoo?' still suffers from the same debilitating loss of steam and shapelessness which bog down the later 'Mr. Freedom' and the prescient (if turgid) 'The Model Couple'.

After a promising start with a Paris fashion show, where rake-thin models parade through a cave in Dadaesque conical aluminium outfits, we are introduced to the eponymous heroine who is being profiled for a TV show which shares the films title. Dorothy McGowan is the unconventionally pretty (and highly appealing) Polly, whose life story is that of a 1960's Cinderella; plucked from obscurity from a crowd of Beatles fans at Kennedy Airport, as she was in real life, and rocketed to become the next supermodel. We are also introduced to an ennui glazed Prince, who fantasizes about procuring Polly, while the director of the TV profile slowly comes to find himself ensnared by her bemused charm. Cross-cut with this basic story are pretty pointless secondary characters who amount to little in the grander scheme of the film. There are the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern like dolts who go off to try and fetch Polly for their Prince (their absurdist exploits become highly annoying before long) and an sadly underwritten Rasputin-like figure who seemingly works for the Prince's mother.

Although often labeled as a critique of the fashion industry (surely a very soft target for satire) there is much more going on in the heart of this film. Klein has plenty of scope to pursue the meaninglessness of celebrity and how all (even those who posses it themselves) can succumb to the fantasy ideal that it enticingly instills in us, along with notions of individual self and the ever present critique of American vs. European sensibility. However, too many scenes are fractured away from the main points (the minutiae of the Prince's daydreams get rather tedious) and the change in mediums, like the animated sequences, seem thrown in to try and grab the audiences interest from floundering rather than present any real structural intention. Fantasy sequences such as Polly's daydream about the TV directors family (reminiscent in tone to the 1965 Terry Southern scripted masterpiece 'The Loved One') show some gripping vision but, again and again, Klein drops the ball by succumbing to the same excesses which would later characterize a certain type of 1960's film-making (such as the all-star spoof 'Casino Royale' or the great Alexander Mackendrick's directorial swan song, 'Don't Make Waves' - both released 1967).

As a visionary stylist, Klein excels but as a theorist and social commentator he flounders hopelessly in circular arguments and observations. As with the director's other fictional films, 'Who Are You, Polly Maggoo?' gives plenty in the way of wacky antics and visually impressive set-pieces but delivers little in regards to a coherent, tightly structured film experience.

I'm Not There (2007)

Stuck Inside a Bio-Pic with the Post-Modern Blues Again

[2/10 · 26 May 2008]

From the onset, 'I'm Not There' will leave you reeling with post-modern malaise. Countless referencing and pastiches of cinematic milestones such as '2001', '8 ½', 'Stardust Memories', 'If….', 'The Man Who Fell to Earth', 'Whity', 'Breathless', 'Week End' as well as the slate of Dylan documentaries ('Eat the Document', 'Don't Look Back', 'The Other Side of the Mirror', 'No Direction Home') and Dylan's own 'Renaldo and Clara' and 'Masked and Anonymous' films, anyone with the slightest knowledge of both Dylan and classic cinema will be suffering cultural vertigo.

It's hard to see who this film is appealing to. Dylan die-hards will be groaning at the pedantic references and those with only a casual interest in the great man will be scratching their heads to make anything of it at all. For such an obvious film, one is left with no more knowledge of Dylan than before. Even the most mundane bio-pics (which this seems to be consciously reacting against) can have knack of propelling interest in a subject, but newbies will probably not be enticed to investigate any further after enduring this mess.

Although a handsome looking production (showing none of the corner cutting that was only too obvious in the similarly misguided 'Velvet Goldmine') and well scored with plenty of great original Dylan recordings, even these assets seem to be a crutch. The songs come so thick and fast it's as if Haynes is using them as some sort of glue to hold our interest along with the pretty photography. And for all its purported experimentalism, the film remains highly derivative and obvious. The heavy handed use of Dylan lyrics as dialogue is deeply cringe-worthy, as are the sledgehammer visual clues (such as the tarantula – itself a reference to a shot in Ingmar Bergman's 'Persona' - walking across the screen during shots of Blanchett's Dylan writing).

Most embarrassing of all are the celebrity performances. Christian Bale is truly terrible, covering the folk-troubadour Dylan and (an in-joke perhaps?) the "Christian" Dylan like a bad comedian. Cate Blanchett is a pretty impressive mimic in general (witness her Kate Hepburn in 'The Aviator') but her performance falls hopelessly apart every time she opens her mouth, as her uncanny physical approximation is shattered by her all too self-conscious whine.

Most pointless of all are Ben Whishaw's 'Rimbaud' (groan), who serves no real purpose other than to get some sloganeering across, and the Heath Ledger/Charlotte Gainsbourg subplot which only serves to bog things down. This is exasperated by the fact that Ledger's character is actually that of an actor who played the role of Bale's fictional Dylan in a movie within the movie (if that makes any sense!) It's obviously modelled on the domesticated, Woodstock-era Dylan but just what it achieves by being at a further remove from its source is something lost entirely on this viewer.

To be sure, there's an interesting film essay to be made about Dylan (if any more really need be documented on the great man) but it ain't this, babe.

Le couple témoin (1977)

French Auteur or American Blowhard?

[6/10 · 26 May 2008]

Jean-Michael and Claudine are the "78% normal" couple chosen to be analysed/manipulated through a series of tests in a monitored household for a French national experiment. The couple are only too happy, at first, to comply with the scientists who regularly interrogate them, seeing the whole set-up as little more than the chance to be the star exponents of a new game show. Occasionally (in the film's stronger sequences) a television announcer comments on their goings-on and chairs group discussions with "experts" who argue the meaning and validity of what they're watching.

The couple are at first bemused by the abundance of goods and possessions given to them by the state, but this soon palls as they are increasingly asked to define why they choose to do what they do. When the "Minister of the Future" comes to visit (with Godard and Fassbinder favourite Eddie Constantine in tow), Claudine is more interested in seeing an example of the Minister's ability to bend spoons - Uri Geller style – than discerning what his policies or intention behind the whole project might be. Meanwhile, Jean-Michael becomes more argumentative, but no more enlightened, than his wife. Towards the end, their childish rebellion (involving the wanton destruction of their goods) leads to them being taken hostage by child revolutionaries who are just as unfocused as they are.

Expatriate American photographer William Klein's little known film presents a presciently topical subject for our Reality TV/'Big Brother' saturated times. However, as a piece of cinematic art, it falls short of the mark. Displaying little of the flair of his earlier (if strident and still flawed) 'Mr. Freedom', the film suffers from low rent production values and sloppy camera-work. The use of annoyingly cheesy songs (which occasionally comment on the action) and Goodies/Benny Hill style sped-up camera tricks also contribute to weakening its bite.

Although the viewer is privy to the ruminations and manipulations of the two interlocutor scientists (who are a couple themselves) we are never let much further into their motivations, other than an interest in behavioural psychology and a desire to "change" things. Possibly a more concerted interest in contrasting the two couples would have provided a richer experience. The film also lacks any real discernible shape. It's as if Klein had written it piecemeal, filming each new set-up as he devised them. In the hands of someone much more assured, like Jean-Luc Godard (who is a pervasive influence on Klein's film work), this could be a lean and fearsome beast. The end result, while intriguing, remains flabby. Regardless of these shortcomings however, there are still glimmers of elucidation to be found in the quagmire.

Passion (1982)

"...there are no rules in film."

[7/10 · 26 May 2008]

Godard's 'Passion' will inevitably draw violent reactions from didactic viewers with a classical Hollywood outlook, even though it expressly addresses the contradictions and pains in discerning just what makes a film "a film". To condemn it as boring or shapeless is to blindly miss the point.

For those of us more inclined to tackle this fascinating question, there is much to luxuriate in here. From even a purely aesthetic viewpoint, the wonderfully incongruent images (like the ship in the forest) and the beautifully lit reconstructions of classical paintings (with their attendant outpourings of classical music) are enough to hold sway.

With these tools, Godard contrasts the passion and belief in labour; the practical against the artistic. Isabelle Huppert's stuttering, incoherent virgin loves her factory job and fights for her "right" to work, while the jaded director Jerzy, surrounded by a bevy of naked beauties during the making of his elusive film, sullenly stages his reconstructions. His work, however, contains no such solace and he becomes morose to the point of inertia by his task of creating a formally perfect but outwardly fragmented piece. Jerzy's constant frustration with having to explain to others what his film is "about" is a poignant running comedic highlight. But that is only part of the battle - practical concerns impinge also. This is painfully clear (and bitterly funny) when Jerzy's ever suffering assistant points out to the frustrated producer the individual cost of each item on the set in an attempt to explain where all the money is going.

The characters aggressive tussling, either through physical pulling and pushing or through their cars (reminiscent of Godard's masterpiece 'Week End'), also signify the difficulty and pain inherent in any kind of birth. The quiet moments call out to be examined and celebrated as much as the grand statement while others jostle for their money, their moment, or even a simple explanation as to what it all means.

Like most of Godard's late work, this mosaic approach will not appeal to all who cross its path (what film ever does?) but, even if it does ultimately fall short of answering any of the questions it asks, adherents will find much to ruminate on.

Cassandra's Dream (2007)

The Continuing Tragedy of Woody Allen

[1/10 · 13 December 2007]

From it's opening homage to Vittorio De Sica's 1946 neo-realist masterpiece 'Shoeshine' (about two shoe shine boys in postwar Rome who buy a horse together; here replaced by the two leads buying a boat) onwards, 'Cassandra's Dream' seems to revel in its apparent weightiness and import. However, as quickly becomes apparent after leaden attempts at gravity and meaning, shoehorned by sledgehammer-subtle exposition and stiff and embarrassing dialogue, what we are really witnessing is the tragic decline of a once great film-maker.

As in the similarly misguided 'Match Point', Woody again gives us his rose-tinted, one-dimensional view of English life. This time, his attention is turned to two lower middle classes brothers who, nevertheless, still have access to "flash cars", own a sailboat and their own - unspecified - restaurant. The miscasting of two non-English actors, who have no real physical resemblance to each other and are somewhat challenged by the cockney accents they are trying to manage, helps matters little. You'd be forgiven into thinking they've simply dispensed with reality altogether and created their own imagined London community. In fairness, Woody work methods are mostly to blame here. Notorious for not "indulging" in multiple takes and never showing anything other than the pages relevant to the character that actor is playing, he no doubt never expanded on the finer points of his script with them either. Surprisingly, Tom Wilkinson comes off worst as the mysterious (i.e. underwritten) Uncle Howard by so frequently looking as if he has forgotten his next line while managing to stumble on the ones he does remember. Woody again treats us to another of his ubiquitous cardboard cut-out femme fatales who is (no surprise) a neurotic performer with no interest in anything other than herself, while the film is populated by merely functional players (the mother and father, the spouse) who are either in service to basic plot machinations or simply mouthpieces for their creator.

While the story (regarding a gambling brother who gets himself and his sibling into financial hot water, precipitating their having to ask a favour of their successful uncle who then asks for a murderous favour in return) and character motivations draw inevitable comparisons with Dostoyevsky and Shakespearian Tragedy, it is truly hard to take a film this risible that seriously. It's unclear why Uncle Howard wants this particular man killed (details are strangely absent in this world) or why he would choose his two hapless nephews for the job. Further, was it Howard's intention to ask this favour all along or is it just a spur of the moment request to test their mettle? Such stretching of disbelief is only one of the many problems of this haphazardly thought out script. Here the obvious subtext is the only text and that now familiar "Woody in serious mode" feeling of characters who sound as if they are speaking in poorly translated subtitles again comes to the fore. Woody's blatant overuse of coincidence and deus ex machina could only rend this as bad parody while the characters are ultimately bland and unprepossessing. Familiar elements of 'Room at the Top' and 'Crime and Punishment' are as highly evident here as they were in 'Match Point' and are as poorly used as in that film. Woody's obsessions with the social climber and an individual's ability to deal with the conscience of murder in a godless world are missing the weight and consideration that made a film like 'Crimes and Misdemeanors' one of his best. Woody shows no ear or eye for such a sustained dramatic dialogue and his episodic sense of structure (which works well in his comedies and comedy-dramas) is ill suited to this narrative. Scenes are told in such brief fashion that the whole is scrappy and set ups are often in mysteriously ill chosen locations (one can only guess that Woody's choice of having Wilkinson, McGregor and Farrell play out the key moment in the rain under a tree in a park as some sort of homage to Kurosawa's 'Rashomon' rather than due to a budgetary restriction). The rather lovely pastoral score by Philip Glass and the occasional glimpses of delicate photography by Vilmos Zsigmond lend the work much more weight than the flimsiness of the film itself can actually bear.

It is clear that Woody Allen no longer desires to do what he does best and is seemingly unwilling to take a break or, ultimately, retire from the business of making films. No doubt, because of his past reputation and success, no one he chooses to work with in the near future will be brave enough to suggest this and therein lies the real tragedy of this piece.

Woman in the Moon (1929)

Overstretched But Gorgeous

[7/10 · 26 November 2007]

Let's face it – 'Woman in the Moon' is hardly one of the great Fritz Lang's best efforts: far, far too long, badly paced, ludicrously over-melodramatic and just plain silly. Nevertheless, it contains prescient details in regards to space travel and (as should be expected) looks absolutely fabulous. Lang even made claims that this was the first film to feature a rocket launch countdown and who are we to question him? One thing you can be certain of is that going to the moon would never again look so stylish. Even though this is the tail end of Lang's classic silent period, those who love films like 'Dr. Mabuse' and 'Spies' will still find much to enjoy here.

Decoy (1946)

Intriguing But Mediocre

[5/10 · 26 November 2007]

For those who have heard about this film as being a great forgotten classic of Film Noir, prepare to be disappointed. 'Decoy' is ultimately just another cheap and badly acted B-movie. In spite of a few moments of inspired camera work and a tantalizing opening, 'Decoy' slogs its way through its badly paced 75 minutes, quickly turning flat and staid. Anyone even half-awake during the duration will be two steps ahead of the deeply silly, almost Ed Wood-like, plot twists. Although much has been made of Jean Gillie's femme fatal as being darker and nastier than any other from the period, she comes across as rather prissy and one-dimensional. Despite displaying a plethora of admittedly intriguingly dark and unforgiving traits, she remains a somewhat indifferent creation.

For a really legendary poverty row Noir classic with a more memorably nasty female, seek out a decent print of Edgar G. Ulmer's masterful 'Detour' (made the year before this) instead.

Why Does Herr R. Run Amok? (1970)

Highly Assured And Unsettling Early Fassbinder

[8/10 · 15 December 2006]

Co-directed by the young Fassbinder (then only 25 years old) with his friend and producer Michael Fengler, 'Herr R.' shows Fassbinder's tendency to get up the nose of the middle class.

Here, in opposition to his more characteristically considered style, a shaky hand-held camera eavesdrops on the eponymous Herr R.(played to perfection by the great Kurt Raab) who is tediously seen at his work, with his wife, during a visit from his parents and the like, while slowly unwinding inside.

Long takes predominate and we are also let into the life of Herr R.'s pretty but equally vapid wife for whom he, in a most affecting scene, buys a record without knowing the singer or song title - much to the shameless merriment of the shop-girls who serve him. Fassbinder keeps the tension tightly wound throughout and it is this knowing sense of what to show and when to withhold that gives the greatest indication that this is the work of a man who was to become one of Europe's greatest film-makers since Ingmar Bergman.

No doubt, many will find the extreme sense of realism and boredom too oppressive but 'Herr R.' has proved to be highly influential on a much later generation of film-makers and still retains the power to provoke and unsettle.

Querelle (1982)

Problematic Final Work

[25 August 2006]

A very difficult film, for many reasons. As a source novel, Genet's 'Querelle' presents a challenge for any adaptation but as this is R.W. Fassbinder's final work, one is compelled to ignore one's initial (poor) response and dig for signs of the vision seen elsewhere in his cannon.

This is a film that unrelentingly refuses to let the viewer in. Narrative is piled upon narrative which is further punctuated by Brechtian title cards containing quotes from a variety of sources (including, of course, Genet's novel). The high stylisation of setting and performance is deliberately off putting and distancing. In this world of almost exclusive homosexual desire, women are severely marginalised which leaves the great Jeanne Moreau with little to do other than warble a rather ridiculous (and ridiculously catchy) pop ditty that uses Oscar Wilde's 'Ballad of Reading Gaol' for lyrics. Here, choice of sexuality is symbolic for how one stands in opposition to social rules and true fulfilment and depth of being comes only in humility and, ultimately, humiliation. Of course, much of this overtly gay posturing can be seen simply as high camp and add an undeniable veneer of silliness which is, quite frankly, hard to shake off.

However, this is a deeply serious film. Maybe Fassbinder was simply looking to upset as many people as he could and the whole point is to alienate the viewer as much as possible, either into anger or submission. It's hard to fully know what to make of 'Querelle' but either way, although stunningly lit, it has little of the swagger or movement of his best work and comes across as rather staid and inert. But, again, possibly that's the point. Confusion and denial as to individual identity leads to frustration and random acts of violence (if only to oneself) and self imploding inertia. It's hard to criticise a film that is deliberate about these points but, ultimately, it is equally hard to like and finding a place for it is no easy task. Possibly a work to admire and provoke rather than one to enjoy.

Life, Love & Celluloid (2005)

Missed Opportunity

[3/10 · 25 August 2006]

Unfocused and rambling, this is a missed opportunity from long time Rainer Werner Fassbinder editor Juliane Lorenz. Although advertised to be about the filmmaker, Fassbinder is actually only discussed in a fraction of the narrative, which goes off on other tangents to varying degrees of success. Disappointingly, no clips from his films are shown as Lorenz opts instead for excerpts from American productions of his plays (which don't fully translate for the camera) and footage of Hanna Schygulla performing a Fassbinder inspired one-woman show. Elsewhere, long tracking shots of New York City, LA and desert scenes are shown set to moody music with little sense of purpose. Random bits of narrative - some of Lorenz reading, some of Fassbinder himself - are overlaid without any indication as to their source. Too much focus is also given over to a 1997 MOMA retrospective of Fassbinder's work which incorporates comments from various punters and former collaborators which range from the moderately insightful to the rather banal.

There are some moments of interest if looked at more as an overview of the power and importance of film art in people's lives (in contrast to the Hollywood perception of it) but anyone seeking a fuller appreciation of Fassbinder is strongly recommended to instead seek out 'I Don't Just Want You To Love Me', Hans Günther Pflaum's superlative overview of the man and his career.

I Don't Just Want You to Love Me: The filmmaker Rainer Werner Fassbinder (1992)

The Perfect Introduction

[10/10 · 25 August 2006]

A wonderfully insightful and idea rich examination into the life and work of Rainer Werner Fassbinder.

Filled with excellently chosen excerpts from his many films and insightful comments from many of his collaborators, the film is divided into various sections which profile his life, career, and thoughts regarding the creative process.

Anyone with the slightest interest in Fassbinder (and European cinema in general) will be captivated and much rewarded by this documentary, which is far superior to the later 'Love, Life & Celluloid' by long time Fassbinder editor Juliane Lorenz. This incisive examination is the perfect starting point for anyone who seeks to know more about the great director. Very highly recommended.

Match Point (2005)

Woody, It Might Be Time to Go Out to Pasture...

[1/10 · 24 August 2006]

A problematic film for long-time Woody Allen fans.

Essentially, this is the Hallmark card version of Crimes and Misdemeanors (via An American Tragedy, A Place in the Sun, Room at the Top and many others) which provides as much sustenance as gorging on angel-food cake. There are so many miscalculations and misjudgements that the mind reels in the attempt to list them. For starters, how can a director as experienced and spoilt for choice as Woody Allen frame an entire film around a performer who can't act? Jonathan Rhys Meyers is so unsure of himself that even his accent isn't credible although he's only required to play an Irishman which, in reality, he is! It's logical that an aspirant attempting to ingratiate himself with the Upper Class (which he seems to manage in just a few seconds, at most) would purposely modify his accent to fit in but anyone with half an ear will be distracted by the strange melange that issues forth even in the earliest moments of the film. Put that together with the numerous pouts and bizarre facial ticks that Allen's camera devotedly captures (again, why so many long shots and close ups on a performer who can't deliver the goods?) which supposedly constitute for projection of deep inner conflict and you have something approximating an automaton being controlled via faulty wiring. This is a deeply embarrassing and misguided performance that some might see as mysterious or enigmatic but, to the perceptive viewer, remains woefully inadequate. Scarlett Johansson fares somewhat better by at least consistently sounding like the New Yorker that she is but the role does seem out of her current emotional depth. Allen's view of her character, at least, is the most three-dimensional in the film possibly because he is writing about things closer to home. The rest of the cast consist of reliable British actors who have severely underwritten and badly observed parts (Brian Cox's monotone father tends to grate, as does the ludicrously plummy brother and sister) or distracting cameos by well known TV performers who have seemingly wrangled themselves a bit of immortality by being in a Woody film.

London itself is reduced to a cardboard cutout Manhattan-like island where people always bump into each other (whether it be in Mayfair shopping for Casmere jumpers or casually hanging out at the Tate Modern), and every move made includes the incorporation of some major landmark in the background. If Woody had decided to pay homage to Rene Clair's wonderful surrealist film 'Paris Qi Dort' (about a man who lives at the top of the Eiffel Tower) by having his main character find a great flat inside Big Ben, I wouldn't have been any less convinced.

As for the dialogue, the less said the better. A major point (not much discussed in other reviews) is that, at over 2 hours, this is his longest film. He also, pretty much, has the least to say in it. It's a long way down from 'Another Woman' and his other idea rich 'serious' films which barely approached the 90 minute barrier. Possibly the only way to endure this particular turkey is to imagine it's a 'Love And Death' style comedy and that Woody is actually sending the whole thing up.

Enthusiasts of Woody Allen's work will be severely shell-shocked to see how badly their idol has fallen, even in light of his post 'Sweet & Lowdown' (the last major work) output. Woody, please, either wait till you have something to say (and know how to say it) or take up gardening or something. Please!

The Butcher (1970)

Gallic Hitchcock?

[7/10 · 24 August 2006]

Hitchcock comparisons abound with Chabrol. However, you may be hard pressed to see anything other than a superficial similarity between them here.

Although nicely acted and crafted, 'Le Boucher' has a curious sense of disengagement that will either fascinate or frustrate viewers. While not necessarily a bad thing in itself, this can also give the impression of a lack of depth. It's hard to fully discern what the character motivations are so, depending on your proclivity, you are likely to become either enthralled or disinterested in what they might actually be.

Viewers familiar with Francois Truffaut will notice some similarities in approach but Chabrol lacks the concise poetry of that other French great. Even though the opening wedding sequence nicely sets up a scene of normality for the events that follow, it's rather overlong and a more Hitchcockian terseness would certainly have helped.

Still, the film does have a strange charm and there are some excellent character ideas regarding the schoolteacher (content with her celibacy long after a bad relationship) being seduced? threatened? by the promise of new love from the local butcher - who may or may not be a murderer. These threads are either unexplored or deliberately withheld, depending on your point of view.

A worthwhile watch for those interested but, possibly, not quite the masterpiece some might lead you to believe it is.

The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (1972)

Key Film From The German Master

[8/10 · 22 August 2006]

Claustrophobic, talky and highly inventive – The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant is a key film in the development of R.W. Fassbinder's art. According to longtime colleague Ulli Lommel, Fassbinder wrote the entire work (which also became a play and, posthumously, a modernist opera) during an 11 hour plane journey from Germany to LA. Excited by this flush of creativity, Fassbinder ordered his entourage to head straight back home and shot the entire film in a extraordinary 10 days.

Set wholly within one room in the home of successful fashion designer Petra Von Kant, the film deals with the destructive love affair Petra (Margit Carstensen) begins with aspiring model Karin (Hanna Schygulla). As one of Fassbinder's early forays into the reexamination of 1950's Hollywood melodrama, the film has the tendency to polarise audiences with it's highly stylised and almost stagy approach. Even the lack of incidental music may jar with those not familiar with the director's work. Rather than using a swelling score giving cues to the emotions the audience is meant to feel, Fassbinder opts instead for selective natural sound (a typewriter endlessly clacking away in the background during an important scene, for instance) and records from Von Kant's (i.e. Fassbinder's) record collection. Without this trapping, we watch Petra's self-destruction with a certain ambiguity and a more considered response is elicited from the viewer. More space is also given to the magnificent dialogue and inventive camera-work (shot in long, winding takes) which allows the fine ensemble cast to to plunder the depths of emotional despair, all the while dressed in Von Kant's wonderfully outrageous designs.

This is all the more fascinating when read as a thinly veiled confession of Fassbinder's domineering ways with those in his inner circle. As also pointed out by Lommel, the film's exclusively female characters were actually all based on men. Fassbinder, however, mostly preferred to work with women as he felt they were freer to express extreme states of emotional truth and more open to the requirements of high melodrama. As a primer for the great director's work, The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant is an excellent example of Fassbinder's over-riding theme: how the hunter can quickly become the victim and that the universality of desire and need within all human relationships is a constant, regardless of status, sexuality or age.

Confidential Report (1955)

An Enigma Unto Itself

[7/10 · 16 August 2006]

Essentially, 'Mr. Arkadin' is Orson Welles' attempt in using cinema to elevate Pulp into Myth. Based on "a lot of bad radio scripts" (in Welles' words) written for the Harry Lime radio shows, one could also read it as a more personal attempt to free himself from the shackles of 'Citizen Kane' (with which it has numerous , although superficial, parallels) and be reborn as a Europeoan filmmaker. The fact that (again) Welles was restricted by budget and eventually dismissed from the editing room due to the commercial concerns of his producer Louis Dolivet does not diminish what is still a highly intriguing work. In fact, 'Mr. Arkadin' has become something of an enigma unto itself and the story of it's creation and subsequent undoing is as fascinating as the film itself.

For those interested in investigating further, The Criterion Collection have done a wonderful 3 disc edition which collates all the available edits (including two Spanish versions which are known, hilariously, by the unexplained mis-crediting of the lead actor!?) and working them into a 'final' version hinted at by Welles' notes and conversations with the ubiquitous Peter Bogdanovich (who also features in the documentary, unsurprisingly). This 'final' version, while far from perfect, restores the original flashback structure as well as the original beginning and ending sequences. On the first disc, however, is the 'Corinth' version (originally discovered by Bogdanovich) that already incorporates some of the author's original intentions. This particular edit also features a highly illuminating commentary track by Welles scholars Jonathan Rosenbaum and James Naremore who consider this version to be the most satisfying. Also included are three mp3's of the aforementioned Harry Lime radio plays that had a direct influence on the story, featurettes by Welles biographer and actor Simon Callow, and a highly welcome reprint of the Mr. Arkadin novel (or novelisation? - you decide) with an excellent newly commissioned introduction by Robert Polito. All in all, this set is a must for the Welles aficionado and should be of interest to anyone with a true appreciation of cinema.

The Da Vinci Code (2006)

Bland Blockbuster

[1/10 · 17 July 2006]

I personally never managed to get past the few pages of the hugely successful source novel and now I no longer feel the need to. After watching this bland and cinematically challenged 2 1/2 hour regurgitation, I feel I've done enough time on the cross.

Fundamentally, this is a B movie with an A-list budget. You'd be forgiven, however, for wondering where all that money went after the world famous locations were secured. Flashbacks are told with an amateurish acid-wash Digital Video look (easily achievable with a camcorder and a good software program), chase scenes are poorly shot and badly montaged, while the atmosphere is nil as each setting is quickly established and then followed by exposition. Then talk. Then more exposition. And then more talk. You can imagine what this does for the pacing. Only the leads appear tireless as they scramble around from location to location without ever seeming run down at any point. Rather impressive when you consider that the time frame of the story only stretches from night to the following day, during which they've covered numerous landmarks in Paris and London. As for the performances, Tom Hanks sleeps walks his way to another multi-million dollar paycheck, Audrey Tatou does herself no favours by showcasing her heavily accented and sometimes unintelligible English, while the others ham it up like Pantomime baddies.

This movie will be hard going for anyone unfamiliar with the book and will probably incense those who are familiar with it. If you do feel a burning need to see this, then rent (preferably borrow) the DVD - at least you'll have the comfort of falling asleep in your own home.

The Magnificent Ambersons (2002 TV Movie)

Misguided Adaptation

[1/10 · 29 June 2006]

If you are a fan of Orson Welles, I have only one word of advice for you: avoid. This is a truly dire and misguided attempt to 'correct' Welles' masterpiece by including passages from Booth Tarkington's novel to make up for the long lost sequences cut by RKO in the 1940's. What the filmmakers have overlooked, however, is to include modern equivalents for the innovative direction, lighting and great performances that make the original version (even in its forever truncated form) one of the most eminent masterworks in American cinema. Although I will refrain from going into length here about its many shortcomings, the main detraction (even for curiosity's sake) is the (mis)casting of the wooden Jonathan Rhys-Meyers as George Amberson Miniver. No match for the wonderful Tim Holt, Rhys-Meyers pouts and whines his way through the film with seemingly no understanding of what the story is about or is trying to convey. Taking the shallowness and pomp of the character too literally, this vanity performance shows no inner life and, as a result, the character arc is practically nil. For those of you who want some idea of what Welles had originally shown that ungrateful audience in Pamona, track down a copy of Peter Bogdanovich's book-length interview with Orson ('This Is Orson Welles') and refer to the appendix which contains stills and script pages that reconstruct the missing scenes. Beware though, it just might make you cry.

Good Night, and Good Luck. (2005)

Gripping B&W Drama

[7/10 · 14 March 2006]

The main motivation to see 'Good Night And Good Luck' should overwhelmingly be for David Strathairn's superbly calibrated performance as 1950's journalist and broadcaster Edward R. Murrow in this somewhat talky but intriguing film. However, its director George Clooney proves to be a surprisingly deft hand behind the camera and should certainly give more thought to a career move further in this direction, away from his usual lacklustre acting performances. Here he wisely opts to stay in the background. Elsewhere, Robert Downey Jr. gives a dependable but unexciting performance in a rather unnecessary parallel plot line while Jeff Daniels and Frank Langella show admirable gravity.

One could argue that the film offers little psychological insight into what gave Murrow his motivation to take on McCarthy "The Junior Senator" other than journalistic integrity and more often than not comes across as a political tract with a rather too obvious contemporary relevance. 'Good Night And Good Luck' (Murrow's catch phrase) also arguably errs towards becoming a stylised filmed stage play in its reliance on confining most of the action to the TV studio but as other directors have proved in the past (such as Sidney Lumet with '12 Angry Men') this can in turns be an equally gripping technique and the word perfect transcribing of Murrow's eloquent broadcasts are thought provoking and moving. Numerous newsreel clips are used (and perhaps over-used) but their historical fascination is undeniable and to see a recent film with such glorious B&W Kane-like photography is quite simply a thrill.

Spider-Man (2002)

Truly Unbelievable

[4/10 · 14 March 2006]

One can't really expect too much in the way of enlightenment from a comic book adaptation but even by those standards 'Spiderman' has a dreadfully hokey script rife with cliché and unexplained coincidence. Lest we forget, suspension of disbelief applies even here.

A number of the performances are just plain corny (Cliff Robertson certainly milks his small role as Peter Parker's uncle) but Willem Dafoe's theatrically hammy performance does entertain in an Olivier-like fashion.

The film has most to offer in its beginning section which features a number of spectacular special effects during our insight into the origins of the hero's super-powers. Later when he becomes fully fledged (with little further explanation as to how he got there) the film looks decidedly more like a video game and will surely fail to sustain interest except in the youngest and most uncritical audiences.

Human Nature (2001)

Approach With Caution

[2/10 · 14 March 2006]

The biggest question one should ask in regards to this work is: how does stuff like this get made - who finances it? Although boasting an impressive cast and a script by Charlie Kaufmann, the result is a chaotic mess.

He may present us with interesting and strangely twisting scripts but somehow Kaufmann's work always leaves me less than fulfilled. Maybe it's because he lets too many thoughts come to the surface and then stray as he buries each under a morass of themes that all peter out long before the end. Work like this mostly comes across as a poor man's Preston Sturges; 'Miracle Of Morgan's Creek' it ain't.

Still, there are some moments of interest and it is intriguing to see an actress as attractive as Arquette defile her body image (including a very young Hillary Duff playing Arquette's character in flashback) so thoroughly as she does here. Yet there seems precious little insight or depth of ideology and Gondry's pop-promo directorial style helps matters little.

This is certainly a curiosity for fans of Kaufmann's writing but surely even the most die-hard admirer would have to admit to its many failings. Approach with caution.