tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11379381194005889972024-03-13T04:31:33.341+00:00The AfrofilmviewerByron: Not so much a film reviewer, more of a drunk who stumbles into cinemas and yells at the screen.Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comBlogger679125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-4895806806881704002024-02-17T22:05:00.002+00:002024-02-17T23:43:59.425+00:00 Article – A Little Ramble about George Armitage's Cult Killers – Miami Blues<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq9gSZeYsrJoQv7MEcKBDX9-bOv4oohKVrZhkzoOoFsRZTBTbkSg3jx9X7n4YZgUbu9lQItjw-qw2R4Krcwp4yGfyb1G0oL4AJgvTI1jLfEZk1d330R3riqBb_BefylwsuEGPflVR1PI4R-3B1XHfDMDYTloIGnQn8-lE9tZa15hzCoEWtz5qCRaJIbVg/s500/miami%20blues%20titles.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq9gSZeYsrJoQv7MEcKBDX9-bOv4oohKVrZhkzoOoFsRZTBTbkSg3jx9X7n4YZgUbu9lQItjw-qw2R4Krcwp4yGfyb1G0oL4AJgvTI1jLfEZk1d330R3riqBb_BefylwsuEGPflVR1PI4R-3B1XHfDMDYTloIGnQn8-lE9tZa15hzCoEWtz5qCRaJIbVg/s320/miami%20blues%20titles.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I like directors when they’re allowed to be weird little
guys. When their odd visions are allowed to flourish on the screen. I rewatched
George Armitage’s Grosse Point Blank (1997) for a podcast and took so much more
from it than past viewings. This is most likely down to age. Its effective pop
needle drops, offbeat charm, and crafted cynicism towards encroaching adulthood
in the ever-ironic 90s certainly made a mark this time. I do feel the film
would be a tougher sell to the IP junky executives of today.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Grosse Point Blank was a minor hit for director George
Armitage, who struck out the last time he tried to put together an off-kilter
tale about a violent sociopath. Miami Blues, released in 1990, is a bold and
bizarre crime comedy that throws Alec Baldwin, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Fred
Ward into a blender before adding tonal shifts to the mix and switching
everything up to full blitz.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGHF4djpcvjnln90VCN5KsTUNT0FiV4ZRUX5gGCveSeysObU0gNNRp3_sJBUFKLj0zdHld2cvh3LYQ78jXUAu4QEfsE2vb2weV3l3T1gL39136B8pujJEDZc3dDrWSh-cVzyTLaOhheeNR90UwJwcfq7k6EzMLKYdgNfp6K9ZhhXGHFSbbpHlQ4-qBpM/s2009/Miami%20Blues%20Ward%20Baldwin%20Leigh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1999" data-original-width="2009" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGHF4djpcvjnln90VCN5KsTUNT0FiV4ZRUX5gGCveSeysObU0gNNRp3_sJBUFKLj0zdHld2cvh3LYQ78jXUAu4QEfsE2vb2weV3l3T1gL39136B8pujJEDZc3dDrWSh-cVzyTLaOhheeNR90UwJwcfq7k6EzMLKYdgNfp6K9ZhhXGHFSbbpHlQ4-qBpM/s320/Miami%20Blues%20Ward%20Baldwin%20Leigh.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">Fredrick (Baldwin) is a violent ex-con who flies to Miami
after being released from prison in California. After unintentionally killing a
Hari Krishna member, he checks into a hotel and arranges an encounter with a
call girl. Said sex worker is Susie Waggoner (Leigh), whose sweetness is only
overshadowed by her naivety. What starts off as a typical sexual transaction
swiftly becomes an unlikely coupling. Susie’s dreams of living happily ever
after soon cloud over Fredrick’s sociopathic tendencies. Meanwhile, a
dim-witted cop named Hoke Moseley (Ward) finds his investigation of the
murdered Krishna disciple leads towards the unconventional couple. Chaos soon
ensues when Fred manages to steal Moseley’s badge and gun.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Grosse Point Blank would be a hard sell today. I
believe Miami Blues would be borderline impossible now. This is a world of
violent, insensitive characters set against a Miami backdrop far from what
you’d see in a more populist production. Frederick’s cynicism and selfishness
make Susie’s blind interest in him feel questionable. While Moseley is unheroic
and callous and seemingly over the hill. All three characters are unmistakably
unlikable.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9n7Qo_FAPmasPCPCX8GStjUR06Pp9RAZP6u7s10MPqs8VlohHtkl5U0WvfF-vZodOTPkqXMjdqz-btjoK4lCHDasOqB5jjjkMjhlBorEjRgedEEqczzjmUXi28fHpO3QaClHb1xHbYfVhbFUFGtA-KpM_EvtPWB1RHWQI-RXJO5in8edsGb_Tsq_mL4/s800/miami%20blues%20vs.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="800" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9n7Qo_FAPmasPCPCX8GStjUR06Pp9RAZP6u7s10MPqs8VlohHtkl5U0WvfF-vZodOTPkqXMjdqz-btjoK4lCHDasOqB5jjjkMjhlBorEjRgedEEqczzjmUXi28fHpO3QaClHb1xHbYfVhbFUFGtA-KpM_EvtPWB1RHWQI-RXJO5in8edsGb_Tsq_mL4/s320/miami%20blues%20vs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">But Miami Blues does a remarkable job of mining the humanism
out of these people that would have been lost in a different movie. Then again,
when Jonathan Demme, a fellow Corman colleague, shows up producer credit, it
suddenly makes a lot of sense. Halfway through the film, Fredrick and Susie
move to a house in the suburbs. For Fredrick, it's a good cover for him to hide
out. As Susie wanders from the front garden into the house, the camera slowly
captures the mundane environment. For Susie, the two sharing the home stirs an
assorted range of emotions. An idyllic, yet idealistic view of suburban life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In a film that indulges in images and situations of
mirroring, facades and imitation, moments of introspection suddenly jump out at
Fredrick unexpectedly. By stealing Moseley’s credentials, Fredrick has no
trouble committing more robberies. However, the theft also allows him to play
the hero. Something that he gains a taste for. His selfishness plays a huge
part in his enjoyment. But a modicum of curiosity also sets in. Blink and you
possibly miss Fredrick considering this the successful conclusion he cynically
jokes to Susie over.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm5H1SAH0bCEP_CvCmIL1QMfjLEgzPMQ_EvcLoC584_EvvAKkwMc1oHyg-IhnfX41k0MqGCFUOiu_80kck0ekCflRgdAhyphenhyphenzDOygHH9Np2TdNdgfeeyB5WIAanGZ4m7p7euudifMBgrtm_7VHZwU_QuLiiaYH9atmVlHRF1cYbWcMF0CdTgfeLLxW0pJPE/s1023/miami%20blues.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="1023" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm5H1SAH0bCEP_CvCmIL1QMfjLEgzPMQ_EvcLoC584_EvvAKkwMc1oHyg-IhnfX41k0MqGCFUOiu_80kck0ekCflRgdAhyphenhyphenzDOygHH9Np2TdNdgfeeyB5WIAanGZ4m7p7euudifMBgrtm_7VHZwU_QuLiiaYH9atmVlHRF1cYbWcMF0CdTgfeLLxW0pJPE/s320/miami%20blues.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">Miami Blues becomes a strangely engaging artefact to
observe. The humour is dark in a way that many modern films would try to avoid.
Fredrick causing the death of a Hari Krisha by merely breaking his hand is the
sort of absurd, cartoony gag that some people may feel bad laughing at. And
that’s understandable. The same goes for when Fredrick witnesses a restaurant
robbery and shoots the thief first before asking him to stop. A macabre
goofiness runs through the film that may only appeal to a niche crowd. Yet
Miami Blues dovetails with its Armitage’s own Gross Point Blank by humanising
its strange characters in unexpected ways. Like Martin Blank in Grosse Point
Blank, Fredrick is an antisocial square who doesn’t fit into society's round hole. His pessimistic viewpoint bubbles to the surface more than once in
exchanges with Susie. In one scene, he cruelly mocks Susie’s desire to open a
franchise restaurant. He has little understanding
of her small, mundane dreams. Yet by exclaiming that they should “skip straight
to the happily ever after” it suggests that he sees a future with the two of
them together. Most likely a criminal one. However, in the short timeframe of
knowing each other, Fred really seems to dig all the meals Susie cooks for him.
Maybe he could tune into the frequency of domestic life. This aspect serves to
be part of the core of Gross Point Blank’s appeal. Something Armitage enjoys.
Mining humour out of at the start and end of the 90s.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Miami Blues is worth digging into if only to be reminded of
a time when American genre films were happy to be so off-centre. Armitage
refined his concept later in the 90s. Ensuring John Cusack strolled the echelon
of cult classic cool. But it’s fascinating to see him show his workings here.
Miami’s Blue’s pastel-toned world is dark and strange. It’s a little bit weird.
But hopefully, viewers will take a look back and enjoy when filmmakers were
allowed to indulge in their odd little visions.<o:p></o:p></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-64030581299522313822024-01-29T00:15:00.000+00:002024-01-29T00:15:12.798+00:00Article: The Desire and the Danger - A First Watch of Looking for Mr Goodbar <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKnKxVb3HeHHUkPpbxo7Ta6ciB7MbJq8ZeQEB2t1MYkiB5Fsqo_yTa5OUKJXSOlOS0YSEG-M0vxGuBa7W2YcIr4dzsF1iVPpTt0jdx_El6-64rIUYUTtMaDZu-3XBW5zxYUec-chZMySk2RYWle9GToT1A14yxo2lOH1EWZq5_nKytHakS7DWvy-D7Lo/s900/goodbar%20poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="900" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKnKxVb3HeHHUkPpbxo7Ta6ciB7MbJq8ZeQEB2t1MYkiB5Fsqo_yTa5OUKJXSOlOS0YSEG-M0vxGuBa7W2YcIr4dzsF1iVPpTt0jdx_El6-64rIUYUTtMaDZu-3XBW5zxYUec-chZMySk2RYWle9GToT1A14yxo2lOH1EWZq5_nKytHakS7DWvy-D7Lo/s320/goodbar%20poster.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>When I decided to write this, the film people of the internet had rolled into day three of complaining about Sight and Sound’s 100 Greatest Movie List. Instead of participating, I decided to get blown away by Diane Keaton in Looking for Mr Goodbar. A film that’s still M.I.A in terms of physical release. Not due to the subject matter, which is tough, but due to music distribution rights. The soundtrack features disco hits from the likes of Donna Summer and Thelma Houston. The upbeat tracks date the film historically, while the lyrics also foreshadow its troubling ending. Songs like Don’t Leave Me This Way flip from being well-known floor fillers into something deeply chilling. Looking for Mr Goodbar is not an easy watch. Not in the slightest. Yet the themes raised still hold a strong relevance, while the provocative nature of the film makes it difficult to forget.</p><p>Based on a bestselling book of the same name, Goodbar is a fictional account of a real-life tragedy of Roseann Quinn, A well-liked teacher who had led a double life in her spare time. Richard Brook's matter-of-fact feature is unlike modern true-crime entries. With so many current examples enjoying placing fetishist attention placed on the murderers of senseless violence, however, one could wonder if the film's availability on streaming has been able to grab the attention of true crime junkies who know of the original case but are new to the film.</p><p>In Looking for Mr Goodbar, Diane Keaton plays Thresa, a trainee teacher whose home life is suffocating by her domineering polish-catholic parents. She studies to be a teacher while her hot mess of a sister has escaped the family home and has delved into the dual pleasures of drugs and polygamy. Theresa, at first, finds herself sexually involved with her college professor. However, the relationship is cut short before her graduation. Thresa soon obtains a job as a teacher for deaf children and proves herself to be a thoughtful and nurturing guide for her students. Her work life is a marked difference from her spare time, however, as she finds herself frequenting dive bars, engaging in one-night stands and experimenting with drugs. She soon finds herself at the hands of manipulating and self-centred men. Soon, her nightlife slowly seeps into her day job. A feeling of risk begins to stem from her precarious behaviour. Tragedy strikes when Teresa while reconsidering her personal life, has a chance encounter that changes her fate for the worse.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSCQeLahCUKOUwNNOhnKtZ3C5siLsdt76_gPXupwH_vwPa0RlGBw2EcyBNU4mEHeJIkf6mZ-ek_53FxprZVojGgnJ_JK8rKJGYSfRMrTu0SpGG7V13GmT6ICi12Jy7UD4Gr8nJj2W9n5Djh8hXLZ65H9vJ1H840kPsqu_1XSSHB3XvRcLBD-nDlLZPXY/s512/goodbar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="512" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSCQeLahCUKOUwNNOhnKtZ3C5siLsdt76_gPXupwH_vwPa0RlGBw2EcyBNU4mEHeJIkf6mZ-ek_53FxprZVojGgnJ_JK8rKJGYSfRMrTu0SpGG7V13GmT6ICi12Jy7UD4Gr8nJj2W9n5Djh8hXLZ65H9vJ1H840kPsqu_1XSSHB3XvRcLBD-nDlLZPXY/s320/goodbar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Looking for Mr Goodbar has no surprising plot. Theresa's story may have viewers entering the film with an understanding of the tragic crime and controversial source novel. Despite this knowledge, Looking for Mr Goodbar remains a startling picture. Even though the film is over 40 years old, the film still holds a potent relevancy as the harrowing narrative will feel relatable to many women. Although the story sets itself against the backdrop of the women's revolution of the 70s, there's a feeling the modern world has moved as much as expected. While parts of the urban scene may have faded, the misogyny found within Goodbar feels no different from today. The opening photo montage, littered with glassy-eyed men ogling young women in bars, only needs an outfit change and a gloss of paint to feel pertinent to where we are now. Something about the aged, unchanging grimness and the sense of foreboding helps Looking for Mr Goodbar remain shocking.</p><p>Goodbar’s lack of substantial physical release gives the film an added mystique. Its subject matter and lack of typical availability only compound its notoriety. Critics who have sought the movie out remain just as divisive as the likes of Vincent Canby <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1977/10/20/archives/film-goodbar-turns-sour.html">were </a>back in the 70s. Reviews have been quick to claim the film muddles its execution. Claire Davidson is <a href="https://lwlies.com/articles/looking-for-mr-goodbar-soundtrack/">cold </a>towards the film. In a piece focusing on the film's soundtrack for Little White Lies, she dismisses Goodbar as redundant. Despite praising the film, Jim Owen of We Are Cult <a href="https://wearecult.rocks/looking-for-mr-goodbar-revisited">questions </a>the struggle for Goodbar to define itself. The film's release in 1977 has the powerful lead performance by Diane Keaton overshadowed by her more affectionate display in Annie Hall. It is a curious displacement, when in contrast to the sexual allegations that <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2023/sep/08/woody-allen-venice-applause-metoo#:~:text=To%20recap%3A%20Allen%20was%20accused,Dylan's%20case%20again%20in%202021.">dogged </a>Hall's director Woody Allen in his later years. A strange, tangential connection of abuse lies between the two films. Along with the limited availability of the film and the critical discourse, this mixture of elements almost keeps the tenacious display of Keaton overlooked.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfLJvQkQWU0tOFB6QdWPpo3y3_NkwgADtvODYbPgKoZfzXu8u8qtxVeF_Xuvi4uI823leWJ8IrkYEhYH_xo54rAumhfVohPg9eFRr7U4lJx17lOC0r8xRTPEoLMg6VrYuADLb79sEqOMAocAoh5CYEG5p45z4BYIwULM6aSgXp5P42S0jUNTLJQM8U8BE/s1724/gere%20goodbar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="1724" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfLJvQkQWU0tOFB6QdWPpo3y3_NkwgADtvODYbPgKoZfzXu8u8qtxVeF_Xuvi4uI823leWJ8IrkYEhYH_xo54rAumhfVohPg9eFRr7U4lJx17lOC0r8xRTPEoLMg6VrYuADLb79sEqOMAocAoh5CYEG5p45z4BYIwULM6aSgXp5P42S0jUNTLJQM8U8BE/s320/gere%20goodbar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>One thing that does not get overlooked in Looking for Mr Goodbar is the stacked before-they-were-famous cast. The film is bursting with burgeoning talent from all corners. As previously mentioned, Diane Keaton is completely arresting as Theresa. She flitters easily between sweet and sensual in a display that is intelligent, sexual, and yet without judgment throughout the narrative. Meanwhile, the supporting cast is a heady brew of then up-and-coming performers. Richard Gere appears as the finger-drumming narcissist Tony. While his appearances are brief, he hums with dangerous sexual energy when on screen. Gere delivers a similar vibrancy in American Gigolo (1980) and Breathless (1983). And it's upsetting that a generation of filmgoers may only know him as the corporate silver fox who chased Julia Roberts around in Pretty Woman (1990), if at all. William Atherton, known more for his smug, cinema bastard roles in Ghostbusters (1984) and Die Hard (1988), finds realms of darkness as James, a Welfare Caseworker. A hapless Irish American man who makes nice with Theresa's Polish Catholic parents but soon becomes unhinged as his traditional desires infringe on her sexual freedom. LeVar Burton shows up as the tough older brother of one of the pupils Theresa teaches. His stoic, no-nonsense demeanour is light years from his role as Geordi in Star Trek. Tom Berenger appears late on as the homophobic final partner of Theresa. He is equally as unbalanced as those who came before him while still presenting a different sexual danger to Richard Gere’s Tony. </p><p>An element of the film’s potency is that despite its cast of soon-to-be well-knowns when it stays focused on Theresa rather than the many men, the film shines. Many modern true crime stories have keenly leaned towards the suspects and killers. With fans posting online their unwholesome desires for these unstable criminals. The likes of Dahmer - Monster: The Jeffery Dahmer Story have had its admirers <a href="https://www.indy100.com/tv/jeffrey-dahmer-netflix-viewers-sorry">frame </a>Evan Peter’s portrayal of the serial killer as a pin-up. A persuasive takeaway from Goodbar is that it maintains the dubious men within the narrative as pathetic while trying to maintain an amount of sympathy for Theresa. She may enjoy an element of manufactured risk in her exploits, but her liberation and sexual freedom shouldn't cost her life.</p><p>It is easy to find parts of Goodbar reductive. At times, the film stumbles on the central theme that such a woman with her sexual freedom should not have her wings clipped. Richard Brook's stagey direction of the material sometimes struggles to do enough to complicate the matter for the better. A viewing of the film could have it read as a moralist tract, with the film arriving just before the even more conservative sex = death slashers of the 80s. A meandering side plot involving Theresa's sister Katherine begins to drift halfway through the movie. At first, she is more sexually adventurous, yet soon Katherine looks towards Theresa as an emotional anchor and is unaware of her sister's antics. By the time we enter the final third, Katherine’s exploits have led to abortions and quickie divorces. She’s suddenly moving towards societal norms, an obvious contrast to Theresa, who only has second thoughts about her promiscuity when tragically too late.</p><p>However, something about Looking for Mr Goodbar remains compelling. There is something so illuminating about Keaton’s performance that ensures the film, while overlong, isn’t lazy in what it’s trying to say.</p><p>One can throw criticism at the frayed edges of the film, yet this only pinpoints the great tragedy that hangs in the narrative. Looking for Mr Goodbar manages to highlight a multitude of struggles from intergenerational, racial and gender standpoints. The film sets up various conflicts in which characters within them will never gain the chance to move on or gain strength due to a fateful act which ends things. The film doesn’t pin down everything easily. Begging the question: If Goodbar had tightened its loose ends, could it be as compelling? Possibly not.</p><p>True Crime fiction often asks how we can load ourselves with the knowledge to calm our anxieties while protecting ourselves so that the same fate of victims is not shared. Looking for Mr Goodbar is startling because slight stumbles aside, there is no easy, comforting answer to Theresa's journey. She battles her stifling family unit against a backdrop of women's liberation, defining her independence by her standards. There is a sense that Theresa would struggle to find this liberty through traditional societal norms. Theresa does not look for a man who fits the requirements of her father, but her sexual exploration, while enjoyable at times, does not fulfil her either. If she were to follow her sister down the well-trodden path, this also betray her newfound freedom. A streak of self-destruction lies in Theresa's behaviour, but her decisions are not what set about her demise. It is the tragic swinging pendulum of fate. Theresa's fierce independence makes her a character to root for. It also makes her unknowable. And the chilling final moments, utilising a strobe effect, are disorientating. Leaving us in the knowledge that despite being a rock for her sister, championing the young, disadvantaged inner-city children she teaches, or her fight for her sexual freedom, we will never know what she was striving for and that her ending is even more wrongfully unjust.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp28I6VpCL1DfOn6CbvL1EZo58ZKDSstvY1lnG9UgAjN98LvE4FCKCx2-LnvCTiahYHogS72M3gtm0_P-VEpDe1SzbC7E558YCTLCHSxoC91ab8Z2IPnGRjA7hgkgfqg7mxPkRmUroqepJd7EOytWNz8qVnTvWOxWPup84bo74g0MONyNb82xeRWqhxzg/s1280/goodbar%20end.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp28I6VpCL1DfOn6CbvL1EZo58ZKDSstvY1lnG9UgAjN98LvE4FCKCx2-LnvCTiahYHogS72M3gtm0_P-VEpDe1SzbC7E558YCTLCHSxoC91ab8Z2IPnGRjA7hgkgfqg7mxPkRmUroqepJd7EOytWNz8qVnTvWOxWPup84bo74g0MONyNb82xeRWqhxzg/s320/goodbar%20end.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Looking for Mr Goodbar’s poignancy still hits hard because society doesn’t feel like it’s moved on from its talking points, despite Looking for Mr Goodbar approaching 45 years old. The disco-glazed city may not appear as dangerous as they do in this film. The dive bars that populate Goodbar would be hard to find now. Yet the fragile men who inhabit the dark corners still move among us. The type of man who can only exhibit control over independent, young women in aggressive, manipulative, or cowardly ways. Be it a gutless teacher who carries on an affair to feed his desires, a condescending potential suitor with a dated, traditional vision of relationships, or even a homophobic murderer who takes misinterpretation as a mocking dig at his own sexually. You can find these characters easily in movies today. While certain films have attempted to capture the anger and sadness within Looking for Mr Goodbar, they don’t hold a similar <a href="https://ayeshaasiddiqi.substack.com/p/id-like-this-to-stop-praise-for-a">impact</a>. The non-judgemental viewpoint sometimes exhibited by the lead character almost feels alien in the realm of girlboss representation that exists now. Whether Looking for Mr Goodbar will ever gain a solid physical re-issue in the UK or America, now that streaming dominates, remains to be seen. But while it finds itself on streaming channels with no sign of disappearing currently, that alone sends the message that it deserves to be discovered by a new audience and evaluated.</p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Looking for Mr Goodbar is currently on Paramount Plus and Amazon Prime at the time of writing.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal">Dug what you read? Buy me a <a href="https://ko-fi.com/afrofilmviewer">Ko-fi!</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-62881652949408644182024-01-03T22:30:00.000+00:002024-01-03T22:30:01.256+00:00Article: Ugly Enlightenment - A Quick Look Back at Happiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy1ZtqIfuQMNflJHJXWOrGgo51yHCXK4hJ1Ac75E5kLXOQBMGnFRALAs5fuRT0qkSgVlDioiQM9QqEoye65aEyDJlmiWL5a5-TU3e1vLmWYUcAVpip1B0Guf-EcOi57DITStSMlN5EPB33RYY2A33YpFwF89sHHZEKg_aujhfslIUsV474fVufkvyNyXo/s326/Happiness1998Poster.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy1ZtqIfuQMNflJHJXWOrGgo51yHCXK4hJ1Ac75E5kLXOQBMGnFRALAs5fuRT0qkSgVlDioiQM9QqEoye65aEyDJlmiWL5a5-TU3e1vLmWYUcAVpip1B0Guf-EcOi57DITStSMlN5EPB33RYY2A33YpFwF89sHHZEKg_aujhfslIUsV474fVufkvyNyXo/s320/Happiness1998Poster.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><p>January is often the month of reinvention. A month for folk to assess their unpleasant habits. With many looking towards ways of revitalising themselves for the future ahead of them. Be it career, relationships or health, January is the time for people to search introspectively about their past and present choices before looking forward to a new enlightened path of self-improvement. </p><p>Todd Solondz is the kind of guy who scoffs at self-improvement. </p><p>The shocking thing about Solondz’s 1998 feature Happiness is how unsettling it still is to this day. Watching the film in the era of social media only seems to highlight how much Solondz gets away with. Please note I am not mentioning too much of what happens in the film. You must see it to believe it. The film’s ironic and cynical jabs at suburbia could draw a concentrated amount of outrage. To those whom some would consider “over-sensitive.” In his four-star review of the film, Roger Ebert notes that it is “not a film for most people.” He hits the nail squarely on the head. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCwWYB_UtLuvAn6v-n1pIV5F1l5r2iIp3nIO7ZpYivfOAfzEikyt6A1TBxRH_qFKhOVyglRP0wDsmgR42u2ueKPbLX0ipR1J7KS9DA84DubCBjcY_zUr4r0URDjiXr6XgsiEDmc7XtrvfIRc3ZnLN4lPUYf35UysxBezdPC4sd09I90Y1_qi7rVLoB_8/s1365/happiness.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="1365" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCwWYB_UtLuvAn6v-n1pIV5F1l5r2iIp3nIO7ZpYivfOAfzEikyt6A1TBxRH_qFKhOVyglRP0wDsmgR42u2ueKPbLX0ipR1J7KS9DA84DubCBjcY_zUr4r0URDjiXr6XgsiEDmc7XtrvfIRc3ZnLN4lPUYf35UysxBezdPC4sd09I90Y1_qi7rVLoB_8/s320/happiness.png" width="320" /></a></div><p>Solondz’s dark satire is a medley of interlocking stories involving three sisters and the immediate connections surrounding them. The film’s painful cold open is a superb litmus test for first-time viewers. The overly sensitive Joy (Jane Adams) decides to break things off with Andy (Jon Lovitz) while on a date with him to avoid complicating things. The exchange that occurs is what the younger generations would now call cringe and suggests why ghosting is now so popular among the single. If a viewer can stand to watch this conversation without wincing, then the viewer may be in good stead for the next two hours. </p><p>Happiness is uncompromising indie cinema that is tremendously comfortable when the viewer is uneasy. Revelling in hostility like a pig in shit Happiness is a grimly comic look at suburbia that landed a year before American Beauty (1999) but holds a cuttingness that lingers past the latter film’s pomposity. Solondz mines empathy out of the repulsive, finding an affinity for those who embrace the appalling. The women are shallow, while the men are pathetic. And this is before you realise that Happiness runs the gauntlet of the dark and upsetting. From obscene phone calls to full-blown paedophilia, the film challenges the viewer with the ability to dig out twigs of compassion from the unspeakable. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYaK_8tuYqts1UgtbWWfX1ltT37q4VaVED0UVqXqlTmqngWTvzUi2tbdgd_2FljHKRUuu6778Jr4aGcDUMhorcjSqAmLkOF1Q8j9pA0vEN8fi3DewRTxDYWPIvaPV0l0NOfcz9PXP2Tr_auVLMjYnwLN5mqXoRDFqQfF8f0UrqxKyesvZWSeJxkZRWHEo/s755/happiness.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="482" data-original-width="755" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYaK_8tuYqts1UgtbWWfX1ltT37q4VaVED0UVqXqlTmqngWTvzUi2tbdgd_2FljHKRUuu6778Jr4aGcDUMhorcjSqAmLkOF1Q8j9pA0vEN8fi3DewRTxDYWPIvaPV0l0NOfcz9PXP2Tr_auVLMjYnwLN5mqXoRDFqQfF8f0UrqxKyesvZWSeJxkZRWHEo/s320/happiness.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>What makes Solondz’s movie so compelling is how it states that even the perverse may be seeking contentment. He finds the darkest humour in the absurdities and constrictions which inhabit his misanthropic characters. Rewatching Happiness was invigorating. Particularly in our current climate of self-described wellness gurus and influencers shilling false promises and dubious misinformation via their social media feeds and channels. So much time they spend dropping life lessons as if they have found the key to enlightenment. One wonders what a few of the most obnoxious types would make of a film like this. Genuine hostility? Maybe. And that is what makes Happiness funny. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><div><br /></div>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-26223628709868641772023-10-05T00:52:00.002+01:002023-10-06T17:48:07.598+01:00Review: The Exorcist: Believer<p>Year: 2023</p><p>Director: David Gordon Green</p><p>Screenplay: David Gordon Green, Peter Sattler</p><p>Starring: Leslie Odom Jr., Ann Dowd, Jennifer Nettles, Norbert Leo Butz, Lidya Jewett, and Olivia Marcum, Ellen Burstyn</p><p>Synopsis is <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt12921446/plotsummary/?ref_=tt_stry_pl">here</a>:</p><p><br /></p><p>Halfway through The Exorcist: Believer, Chris McNeil (Burstyn), the mother whose 12-year-old girl Regan fell victim to demonic possession, claims that she was never allowed into the room during her daughter's possession due to the “damn patriarchy”. In the screening that I was in, the line gained an audible “right on” cheer. In wrestling, such a moment could be considered a “cheap pop”. It is a tawdry way to incite a reaction from a crowd. The vulgarity becomes evident later in the film when a grim incident befouls Chris, a mother who had suffered so much in the original film is dismissively wasted in this new legacy sequel 50 years on. The Exorcist: Believer doesn’t give a toss about feminism. It barely cares about the women in its narrative. But it knows that simply referring is enough.</p><p>There isn't much more to say about William Friedkin’s 1973 seminal adaptation of William Peter Blatty’s novel The Exorcist that hasn’t already been said. Its reputation proceeds it. A film that now constantly tops the best horror ever lists. Its infamy entails a troubled production, rating controversies and initial mixed reactions from critics. 50 years on, the aura surrounding the film has never quelled. It remains a fascinating film which despite its intentions, has allowed the contents of the production to be argued and debated for years. Its success also allowed the studios to greenlight a multitude of sequels and prequels to mixed reactions.</p><p>The Exorcist: Believer has been delivered to audiences by David Gordon Green. A director whose filmography has a whiplash effect if you read it too fast. When he first appeared on the scene, Green was touted as the new Terrance Malick. His early films were small-town indie darlings, well-loved by the critical faculty. 2008 marked the release of the stoner comedy Pineapple Express and Green’s “loosely goosy” era with the director’s changing to television sitcoms such as the remarkable Eastbound and Down (2009) to the risibly dull Your Highness (2011). After a mix match of comedy dramas, Green found himself injecting new life into the Halloween series, creating a new trilogy which followed directly on from the 1978 classic. Despite the response for each entry falling on a sliding scale, the trilogy moved the mythology forward politically. Commentating on the festering nature of evil. The move from slasher to demonic procession feels less of a surprise now than a stoned James Franco.</p><p>The same ambition that took many by surprise in Green’s Halloween trilogy could have given The Exorcist: Believer a desperately needed shot in the arm. However, like many other entries to the franchise that proceed before it, Believer fails to grasp what made the original movie so startling 50 years ago.</p><p>The biggest gripe with Believer lies with its reliance on pandering to its inbuilt audience. Believer is totally in love with referring to the film which came before it. Visual references to Friedkin’s film litter the screen. It is a film which uses constant callbacks in a way that wants to show how much the filmmakers have liberated from the original film. Although it never really considers that the viewer could be watching that instead. In fairness Green and cinematographer Micheal Simmons do a handsome job visually, giving the film a rich and textured film from a tonal point of view. Yet the problem lies in the fact that often, there seems to be no constructive reason for its visual homages. The film opens with the familiar moment of two dogs fighting, a clear nod to the moment when Father Merrin spots two angry canines duelling in the Iraqi desert. There is no real reason to rehash this moment in Believer, other than to say: “We’ve rehashed this visual moment for The Exorcist: Believer. Originally the moment provided meaning. An amount of dread and tension felt from a priest knowing soon he would tangle with an old foe once more. Believer isn’t interested in that. It suffers from the same IP flu that infects many franchised-based films today. It wants you to tilt your head and say, “I know that reference”. But it’s not bothered in locating meaning.</p><p>Because of elements like this, it becomes quick to realise that Believer isn’t interested in anything it touches upon. Sticking close to the original film's M.O. save for cluttering scenes with needless characters, making the story about two possessed girls and giving the film a slight racial bent, Believer annoyingly suggests kernels of a more potent story but is too scared to leap. Its main thread, of a single Black father who must reclaim his faith if he is to save his child, is woefully underrepresented. The screenplay lacks the weight to match Leslie Odel Jr.’s bold performance as the unfortunate father. Believer suggests racial tension but smooths things over as quickly as it started. One plot point has a character confront the fact that he had to make a life-or-death choice between two members of his immediate family. Said choice is never truly explored in any meaningful way, as it would rather waste time having Ellen Burstyn vaguely talking about spirituality. Burstyn who cannily took the role of Chris again to get an actors scholarship program off the ground, notably rejected taking up the role again until this point. It’s easy to see why she had no interest. Burstyn is only here as a reminder of what’s been before. But at least hopefully her program will allow us to enjoy more actors like her in the future.</p><p>Even without all the legacy pandering, what we get is a rather dull possession horror which does little to scare and unsettle. It relies way too much on tropes we’ve not only seen from the first film but in various possession films since. It humourlessly goes through all the motions with little understanding of what made the original film so disturbing. Blatty’s source novel, as well as Friedkin’s film, manages to attach the weight of faith upon its despairing characters. It’s frightening because you care. It enjoys being about the eternal battle between good and evil. The Exorcist: Believer doesn’t even have the strength to take on The Pope’s Exorcist, also released this year. It hasn’t got time to care. It’s more interested in being yet another reference movie. A constant reminder you could be watching something else instead. </p><div><br /></div>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-54100926058673197832022-12-02T23:20:00.003+00:002022-12-02T23:23:42.916+00:00Article: Making Promisies - Looking Back at The Pledge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXjhcTt295f7qge7qO7QguOq_cdezYkGwJ6bCgY3bLnnS8waGMLcFb6sTCRdr5Wf4o7wEU3aHnJ7lIA0yP-LY9YejTBkvbsjt8k6SE8h20VNGPtWmfyJDvtPdQMitOIP0WT7mROGx5wyrP9ggH9TrECjBIfIdTUiwmhm-57glqv7eN2wuzQwLQ6Qa/s2970/pledge3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2970" data-original-width="2003" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXjhcTt295f7qge7qO7QguOq_cdezYkGwJ6bCgY3bLnnS8waGMLcFb6sTCRdr5Wf4o7wEU3aHnJ7lIA0yP-LY9YejTBkvbsjt8k6SE8h20VNGPtWmfyJDvtPdQMitOIP0WT7mROGx5wyrP9ggH9TrECjBIfIdTUiwmhm-57glqv7eN2wuzQwLQ6Qa/s320/pledge3.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>While film Twitter indulged itself in yet another madding round of Marvel vs Scorsese discourse, I needed something to watch. I found myself settling on Sean Penn’s The Pledge. A detective thriller based on Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s 1958 novella of the same name.</p><p>In reading reviews of the film, I found opinions of some of my usual go-to writers veered wildly. Roger Ebert <a href="https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-the-pledge-2001">raved </a>about the film. Reviewing it twice and placing it on his list of great movies. Mary Ann Johnston however <a href="https://www.flickfilosopher.com/2001/01/the-pledge-review.html">despised </a>the film. Disliking its ugliness and absurd climax. I had The Pledge on my watch list for the longest time. Put off by Penn’s frustrating 2007 feature Into the Wild. A film I’ve never returned to due to the lead character’s stubbornness. Something that pairs nicely with this film. </p><p>On the Eve of his retirement, Detective Jerry Black (Jack Nicholson) finds himself caught up in a child murder case. Jerry makes a solemn promise to the victim’s mother (Patricia Clarkson) that he intends to find the killer. However, soon after the promise is made, the police apprehend an intellectually disabled native American (Benicio Del Toro) and consider the case closed after a botched detainment. Jerry isn’t so sure. After leaving the force, he decides to embark on his private investigation of the case, based on little more than his promise and a hunch. Very soon Jerry is triangulating the area of the crime with other cold cases. He’s buying gas stations which he mans, as he believes the killer may frequent there. Jerry also becomes acquainted with a single mother (Robin Wright) whose child would be the perfect next victim for the killer. Quickly they move in with Jerry and a mutual affection grows between the three. But it becomes hard to tell if he’s using the girl as bait. And what of the friendly god-fearing bachelor who befriends the girl? What is his motivation for all this?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhbxcH-xFzbCD9WHW6A8WP9dZaZfROV9Dct8E8QkSE96KGsXD0cpL02bOjrKe9Z0t3gJ0Au-eY2lKIc4MYaOpxHq9NQyKRudNCaLVbqs137mtRZhapgHf3WRxZMyPmM5gCCQRtMqNBlm8_K0X_Uwe_xV2bIt0n0qGus_Jw3IXRBcuNOm-vZy1fmbe/s318/pledge4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="318" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhbxcH-xFzbCD9WHW6A8WP9dZaZfROV9Dct8E8QkSE96KGsXD0cpL02bOjrKe9Z0t3gJ0Au-eY2lKIc4MYaOpxHq9NQyKRudNCaLVbqs137mtRZhapgHf3WRxZMyPmM5gCCQRtMqNBlm8_K0X_Uwe_xV2bIt0n0qGus_Jw3IXRBcuNOm-vZy1fmbe/s1600/pledge4.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>The Pledge is very much a Sean Penn film. It is less a film of excess as it is a film of a muchness. At times the film wants you to see that it’s directed. With a capital, D. Be its indulgence in a multitude of visual tics to having known actors swinging for the cages despite only being in one scene. It’s a film with personality. And that personality is that of Sean Penn. He may not appear in any shot of the film, but each frame feels very much like the man making it. Much like the performances of Penn in his pomp, The Pledge wants you to know of its importance.</p><p>That’s not a bad thing. Despite a sense of indulgence, The Pledge is an absorbing quasi-procedural. One that lingers on like a bad stain. Perhaps this is because Penn has chosen a story created to purposely frustrate. Sneering in the face of the kind of exceptionalism that is often found in such crime dramas. Jerry is dogmatic in his obsession, and usually, we find this to be a good trait in our cop protagonists. But much like the novella, the film is based on, the film undermines much of what we expect in detective fiction. That brilliant “cop logic” found so often within crime thrillers is greatly flawed. Obsession can be defeated. Often by chance.</p><p>The Pledge almost feels like a precursor to Bong Joon-Ho’s Memories of Murder (2003) and David Fincher’s Zodiac (2007). A crime thriller that debates that maybe such crimes aren’t sufficiently solved by a certain logic. That the puzzle may not fit together despite holding the right number of pieces. Investors of the film got nervous after another film they distributed (Battlefield Earth) sank like a stone at the box office. Because of this Penn was rushed to complete the film. Tom Noonan <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20120314111146/http://stumpedmagazine.com/interviews/tom-noonan.html">claims </a>that there were still scenes featuring himself which fully rounded his character. And yet allows Penn to indulge in distracting edits and insert shots. But it also helps show up the flawed interior of its main character. Jerry’s intention to catch the killer is absurd. His reasoning is faulty. Yet it’s easy to be charmed into his search for justice. It’s often why such movies are watched. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxLTuZN9RN5VwWiDCcDnppQRlU_z0nA49vB9ntHFa-PdrGkHCy1fudWrS06rMLB1oUdAd9QRD1_jXpfM2GRVzD6FY7T3m3mvPQiaODl-5TOZAERA0e34io8vzbXDXpfwlEGxCkKr0AsmU7EA4v2VLqAWfMwsKrN_h43fRTwqT4ldKVhovVfs4icjT/s450/pledge.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="450" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxLTuZN9RN5VwWiDCcDnppQRlU_z0nA49vB9ntHFa-PdrGkHCy1fudWrS06rMLB1oUdAd9QRD1_jXpfM2GRVzD6FY7T3m3mvPQiaODl-5TOZAERA0e34io8vzbXDXpfwlEGxCkKr0AsmU7EA4v2VLqAWfMwsKrN_h43fRTwqT4ldKVhovVfs4icjT/s320/pledge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>And there is a strong wish for deliverance here. The crime is brutal. Its grimness is on full display. The investigation into the murder is shambolic. Much like Memories of Murder, the chaos and contamination are deeply frustrating. Nicholson’s subdued yet dominating performance as Jerry is a winning one. A man sees this one last job as a chance to preserve his sense of manhood and relevance. But the film also lulls and distracts. Disarming both Jerry and the audience. Spending ample time wrapped up in tiny-town America in such a way that it helps champion the madness of Jerry’s obsession.</p><p>It's a cheat to say that The Pledge is about mood over logic. Such a statement screams cop-out. Yet Penn’s film plays with the irrationality of it all. Mary Ann Johnson considered the film thoughtless. I feel the film knows what it’s doing. Consider the star-studded cast. Big players give gravitas to one-scene roles. Pushing past the craziness of it all. Micky Rourke steals a scene as a distraught father. This is one of his best performances. He’s barely on screen for 2 minutes. Helen Mirren appears as some sort of shrink at one point. It’s never fully explained who she is and why Jerry goes to see her. Yet the casting of such a commanding actor forcibly glosses over the fact. It’s easy to go with it. The same can be said for a small, despicable scene in which Jerry speaks to a local deputy (Costas Mandylor) about evidence over an assumed closed case. Mandylor is so brash and slimy that it’s easy to ignore the surprising judgement call he makes.</p><p>It doesn’t all work. Benicio Del Toro would probably not be given such a role as a mentally challenged Native American. It’s a role in which he puts his whole self into. But also reveals why Penn’s performance in I Am Sam (2001) is also so cringe-worthy. The additional bigoty that takes place within Del Toro's interrogation scene doesn’t help matters. Now 20 years on, there would probably be at least an actual Native American in such a role. Not that it would help the discomfort of the scene. And yet, it’s not as if we haven’t seen such ugliness in other crime thrillers. Again, this seemingly fuels aspects of exceptionalism and masculinity within the main protagonist. Playing on the idea that Jerry knows best. And that tragic circumstances would not have occurred if he was still allowed to lead.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7anhuUtAgzbq-IUjExx1If-bn-cZTZfRafHlU-MxofP-lrA67PcwjrrvYPKDTKC2uzpxFiUXmr8zcX98tyVtmzIhk2_rIH67IPtqVP9Fnsjzid7LkqhfpddUAXVtSIgZdHhN9C9_fFiRA6wGq4uctnWQ-y4vQphfuTIpSqYrGTa5l241ABtiTZ2wH/s1200/pledge2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7anhuUtAgzbq-IUjExx1If-bn-cZTZfRafHlU-MxofP-lrA67PcwjrrvYPKDTKC2uzpxFiUXmr8zcX98tyVtmzIhk2_rIH67IPtqVP9Fnsjzid7LkqhfpddUAXVtSIgZdHhN9C9_fFiRA6wGq4uctnWQ-y4vQphfuTIpSqYrGTa5l241ABtiTZ2wH/s320/pledge2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>But is that wholly true? Moments of The Pledge suggest that Jerry is already somewhat checked out. Lost to his promise to avenge a tragic case. From incredible deduction skills to possibly using those who are closest to him as bait. What makes The Pledge fascinating is how Penn draws out the despair. Playing down Nicholson’s usual charisma to give a grim poker face which still tells us too much. This is a man who should fold his hands. The film decides against the easy route of gun fights and car chases. Rooting with this broken man’s blinded obsession and what he may do. With things being pushed to the brink. Of course, this makes the film's final moments even more haunting. The Pledge finishes on a note that gives no comfort or answers. Just the grim hand of chance at play. It’s a disorientating finish. One that as stated previously is rightly absurd. But it’s the right finish for this movie. Because life is absurd. And we perhaps should not make such bold promises when fate decides all.</p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>The Pledge is currently on Netflix at the time of writing.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal">Dug what you read? Buy me a <a href="https://ko-fi.com/afrofilmviewer">Ko-fi!</a></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-91064031307074046122022-09-22T00:31:00.001+01:002022-09-22T00:31:19.924+01:00Article: Refrigerator Prize<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_3kuuX1mINMcyrftIJlx02kl6qQZbEflsqQAILaHaKho36hxJcWomRBG75a84zew9raPVZjSq1dLsOjp9kF1OkGMB3mPN2dDHeZNATuAG7csUhIBIhMag4WdUU0DUUz9eUiojZpEAIt-5jqjuLVYZdEUOPO1EijD52FNP6uFcZBYMDXRRpJzkRNR/s1466/confessions%20poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1466" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_3kuuX1mINMcyrftIJlx02kl6qQZbEflsqQAILaHaKho36hxJcWomRBG75a84zew9raPVZjSq1dLsOjp9kF1OkGMB3mPN2dDHeZNATuAG7csUhIBIhMag4WdUU0DUUz9eUiojZpEAIt-5jqjuLVYZdEUOPO1EijD52FNP6uFcZBYMDXRRpJzkRNR/s320/confessions%20poster.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><br /><p>By Leslie Byron Pitt</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The best thing that Charlie’s Angels (2000) did for me was
introducing me to Sam Rockwell. I had seen him in films before McG’s sugary
gloss fest for sure. He was fun in Galaxy Quest (1999), intense in The Green
Mile (1999) and I’m sure he knocked it out of the park as “Head Thug” in the Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtles movie (1990). I don’t remember. I’ve only seen that film
once over 20 years ago. I was more of a Secret of the Ooze guy. I digress. It
was Rockwell’s performance as Tech Nerd/Draw Barrymore’s love interest Eric
Knox that grabbed my attention.
Moreover, it was his shimmying and shuffling to Pharaoh Monche’s Simon
Says after becoming a turncoat to the angels and dear old Drew which piqued my
interest. It was suave villainy that was not only enjoyable for the outlandish
movie it appeared in. It deserved to be in a better movie. The kind of movie
moment which convinces an impressionable young mind to track this actor and see
whatever film they might be in next.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The next notable performance for Rockwell was Welcome to
Collingwood (2002) directed by Marvel stalwarts The Russo Brothers. A film
which had desires to be Coen-like and ended up being mildly enjoyable yet
wholly forgettable. Collingwood teamed Rockwell up with George Clooney who soon
embarked on his directorial career with Confessions of a Dangerous Mind,
released in the same year. I was fortunate enough to catch both movies at the
UCI cinema where I worked. At the time, the cinema had a weekly slot named “The
Director’s Chair” in which films, both old and new, which were worlds apart
from things like Charlie’s Angels, were allowed one showing for supposedly more
discerning cineastes. Collingwood faded from my mind quicker than the running
time of its end credits. Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, however, bored me.
Still perhaps Clooney’s most interesting directorial feature, the film
solidified Rockwell as a preferred performer of mine. His freewheeling
performance is still a notable turn in my cinema-going. The film itself I still
consider one of my favourites.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7Y8zcYj3LNHg57NNIGWdrojxLEjZwk4B_mEaYENEHdQSaW24uE6Vj8706MiX1SesfuIt75I7AGX5b_luewH_lgN_biZemBEkSZBB4o_HD8DGPdvu5KhCeUiiXmyEs4nUZGZQ1v9yo6xOEKT6ylxOmv0ffk42gPZdKg33T-PGvjdvd9Z_fonoJqXF/s620/confessions2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="620" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7Y8zcYj3LNHg57NNIGWdrojxLEjZwk4B_mEaYENEHdQSaW24uE6Vj8706MiX1SesfuIt75I7AGX5b_luewH_lgN_biZemBEkSZBB4o_HD8DGPdvu5KhCeUiiXmyEs4nUZGZQ1v9yo6xOEKT6ylxOmv0ffk42gPZdKg33T-PGvjdvd9Z_fonoJqXF/s320/confessions2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">The story of Confessions of Dangerous Mind is the
semi-autobiographical, fully bat-crap crazy memoir of one Chuck Barris (Rockwell). Known
to American audiences as the creator of The Dating Game (U.K folk, think Blind
Date) and The Gong Show. Barris was a multi-faceted performer and producer who
did everything from hosting the shows he produced to writing hit pop songs.
What his cult autobiography reveals however is that he also led a double life
as a C.I.A operative. Utilising his hit T.V show as cover, he moonlighted as a
hitman for his country. So, he says.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">David O Russell allegedly turned down the chance to direct
Confessions saying that the film was “just not about anything but a guy who
liked to fuck girls and say that he shot people in the head." It’s
slightly amusing that Clooney, who had an altercation with O Russell on the set
of Three Kings (1999) due to his treatment of cast and crew, clearly saw
something within the story and picked it up as his debut feature. Clooney
doesn’t do anything too radical in terms of insight. At the base level, Barris
is a man who is struggling with his feelings of inferiority. However,
Confessions of a Dangerous mind still stands out as Clooney's most playful
movie since he moved into directing. It’s hard not to sense a feeling of
mimicry when watching Confessions. There’s Coen-lite energy to things. Something
that makes sense given Clooney’s then-recent collaborations. Yet Clooney’s
indulgent decision to overload the movie with a flurry of visual flourishes is
not just a sign of the first-time director revelling in the creative sandbox.
Even now it still feels like the last time Clooney let loose behind the camera.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Confessions is less engaged with its directors’ political
leanings, yet much like Clooney’s sophomore effort Good Night and Good Luck
(2005), the film delves into a period when television rubbed up against
communist ideals. Good Night and Good Luck stoically focuses on McCarthyism and
press freedom. Confessions toys with the
idea that gains could be made in the cold war via the host of The Dating Game
shooting agents in the face while acting as a chaperone for his unwitting
contestants. Both films utilise American
TV as an instrument to either reflect or neglect the fear and paranoia the
American people had with communism. Albeit Confessions stays broadly focused on
Barris’ sexual and mental fragility, with the Cold War as a side dish<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh4HyIu2Y-odZ7_H1PrR1YsSnd5PhbjaEqyHTHL2VklWnLEshG5cwCUKLlgoCh49fReN-rwdlkIAVjMDnYhmEhe4SqPZSCvPGGwP4s-kOzW-y8TOnNUJFMcAIYj9ZNa8IrNbQfKwRXRyP8u12tZxVYjqElGOLd98N_4R2-OWmrUNLPe6qwwJiAre-i/s485/confessions3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="485" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh4HyIu2Y-odZ7_H1PrR1YsSnd5PhbjaEqyHTHL2VklWnLEshG5cwCUKLlgoCh49fReN-rwdlkIAVjMDnYhmEhe4SqPZSCvPGGwP4s-kOzW-y8TOnNUJFMcAIYj9ZNa8IrNbQfKwRXRyP8u12tZxVYjqElGOLd98N_4R2-OWmrUNLPe6qwwJiAre-i/s320/confessions3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">The Barris story's madness and what could be Clooney’s naivety behind the camera instead of in front of it allow the Ocean’s 11 star to deliver a film that is off the chain with visual “moments”. A Delightfully assured tracking shot has Barris touring the halls of NBC only to be the host of the same tour an instant later. Meanwhile briskly cold silhouettes situate the frosty European countries that the TV presenter must navigate to find his targets. When time allows Clooney slots, Rockwell, in front of mirrors to implicate the duplicity. That’s not when he’s having telephone calls meld into the same location or having C.I.A agents bleed artfully into swimming pools while sitting on diving boards. A late sequence has Barris having a mental breakdown in front of an imagined slaughtered audience. A terrifying vision of a CIA hitman losing the plot? Or are we watching a deeply troubled producer seeing his brain-dead shows kill off the smarts of the audience? This is contrasted with an earlier scene in which a desperate Barris sits in a full auditorium glumly watching a movie while everyone around him is kissing. When Barris meets the free-spirited love interest Penny (An enjoyable Drew Barrymore), they’re seen necking in the theatre while everyone watches the movie intently. Seems that ol' Chuck never seems to fit in with the crowd. So why not envision them dead? It’s a moment which feels strangely apt for such a cracked mind. All this is delivered with a brightly lit retro colour palette and a wink to his usual collaborators. Blink and you’ll miss some <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=VxkXpKHdkfE&feature=emb_title" target="_blank">friends of Clooney’s</a> looking flummoxed on the dating game.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht21QXfZ9LGu6Lz-vlWWa9yZATcYlxz-HQB6aBG5TM38fwa-LL2orKBTzHKUOjmPgoaFwkyqaemVCY0VgG3Qjx2HxzfgmbvjOARsARnWhahr5hJ0xX9PQQJ7mQ4BERRUQRr4AOOvSJ2NEWblGb0zhh8hwDzLq7HVT1lYqsUFOBt0xZ1W2nzgj17s7n/s1910/confessions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="1910" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht21QXfZ9LGu6Lz-vlWWa9yZATcYlxz-HQB6aBG5TM38fwa-LL2orKBTzHKUOjmPgoaFwkyqaemVCY0VgG3Qjx2HxzfgmbvjOARsARnWhahr5hJ0xX9PQQJ7mQ4BERRUQRr4AOOvSJ2NEWblGb0zhh8hwDzLq7HVT1lYqsUFOBt0xZ1W2nzgj17s7n/s320/confessions.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It's no surprise that it can all feel a bit <a href="https://www.theonion.com/movie-marketed-as-six-different-genres-1819566764">much </a>for some. Maybe a feeling of <a href="https://filmschoolrejects.com/26-things-we-learned-from-the-confessions-of-a-dangerous-mind-commentary-f482f39ea12b/">Clooney enjoying himself a copious amount</a>. The film’s
screenplay was written by Charlie Kauffman, the misanthropic creator of such
gems as Synecdoche, New York (2008), and I’m Thinking of Ending Things (2020).
Two incredibly cynical mind benders. Kauffman has stated his <a href="https://www.slashfilm.com/542044/charlie-kaufman-confessions-of-a-dangerous-mind/">frustration with the finished film</a>, with talk of a drug addiction subplot excised from the final
film. Confessions is all a bit too sprightly for the dark trappings that
inhabit most of Kaufman’s work. The screenwriter highlighted that this was more
of a script on order, which had lounged in development hell for years than
anything else. Jumping from director to director before finally landing on
Clooney’s lap. As accomplished as Kaufman’s creations usually are, this is far
from his more sardonic imaginings. And considering the grimness which inhabited
I’m Thinking of Ending Things, that’s perhaps for the best.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Weirdly enough, Confessions still has enough Kaufman DNA
inhabiting it to remind you of the scribe. This is a film about a self-loathing
white male talent, wracked with self-doubt despite his success. This of course
runs through the likes of Adaptation (2002) and Synecdoche, New York (2008).
Although what’s perhaps lacking in this over the likes of films such as Being
John Malkovich (1999), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), and
Anomalisa (2015) is the element of communication breakdown between the film’s
lead and everyone around them. If anything, Chuck Barris is a superb
communicator. With the likes of Dick Clark leading the famous parade of known
talking heads informing us of Chuck’s brilliance. Barris perhaps has too keen
an ear on what the people want. His shows are not only still being observed in
similar ways today, but also seem to be the type of “low culture trash” that
can draw in huge crowds. The Gong Show feels no different from the most popular
element of X-Factor. Praying on normal people who seek attention, despite maybe
not having the inherent media talent for true success.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i></i></p><blockquote><i>“…To mock some poor, lonely people who just crave a
little attention in their lives. To destroy them. So everybody’s not
brilliantly talented. They’re still people. They deserve respect and
compassion. I mean, who the hell are you? What the fuck have you ever done that
elevates you above the pathetic masses? Oh, I forgot, you created “The Dating
Game”. Wow, right up there with the Sistine Chapel.”</i> - Pretty Woman</blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This quote is perhaps the most stinging moment of the film.
And perhaps one of the most crucial. A withering blow to the strutting male
ego. A beautiful, unknown woman dissecting Barris for what he is. Suddenly no
matter how often we frequent Barris’ more dangerous alternative life, this
woman’s burning critique feels seared onto Barris like a branded cow. This is a man who wished he was more than
what he became. Even when at the point of success, he is haunted by what could
be considered imposter syndrome. George Clooney is interested in the moment
where media & politics collide. But that truly comes later. In Confessions,
this is the filmmaker going down a road well-travelled. That of a mad male
talent and his demons. Is Barris telling the truth? The answer perhaps lies in
how much you feel about appealing to the lowest common denominator and when
you’re called out on it. The film ends
with perhaps one of my favourite quotes as the actual Barris is sat down, much
like the docu-style talking heads from earlier. The lighting is harsh and
bright. Blasting out any wrinkle or detail. The final moments are as earnest as
they are depressing. Barris’ last quote is as follows:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i></i></p><blockquote><i>"I came up with a new game-show idea recently. It's
called The Old Game. You got three old guys with loaded guns onstage. They look
back at their lives, see who they were, what they accomplished, how close they
came to realizing their dreams. The winner is the one who doesn't blow his
brains out. He gets a refrigerator."</i></blockquote><i><o:p></o:p></i><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I think it tells us all we need to know.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Confessions of a Dangerous Mind is on various streaming platforms. I dug out an old DVD.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal">Dug what you read? Buy me a <a href="https://ko-fi.com/afrofilmviewer">Ko-fi!</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-20955803360440485892022-04-17T11:20:00.003+01:002022-04-17T12:12:57.090+01:00 REVIEW: X<p>Year: 2022</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Director: Ti West<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Screenplay: Ti West<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Starring: Mia Goth, Jenna Ortega, Martin Henderson, Brittany
Snow, Owen Campbell, Stephen Ure, and Scott Mescudi.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Synopsis is <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt13560574/plotsummary?ref_=tt_stry_pl">here</a>:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m not sure at what moment Ti West’s X got me once again
frustrated at film awards. It was possibly around the point in which the film
delivers a tender split-screen involving Britney Snow singing a cover of
Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. It might be the moment when a character tugs at a
light switch. The film suddenly cuts back to the aftermath of a violent attack.
An almost innocuous moment that becomes the film's most effective jump scare.
West has always been an exciting horror filmmaker. However, watching the
filmmaker’s maturity grow as a craftsman within these small moments reminded me
of how much film organisations do the dirty within areas of the genre. Do I
expect Ti West to win an Oscar? Not at all. But watching West create such an
entertaining provocation on a tighter budget and with less pretension than some
of the more typical prestige movies Hollywood tries to inflict on us reminded
me of just how much horror should get more kudos. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">X riffs hard on Tobe Hooper’s gruelling 70s opus; The Texas
Chainsaw Massacre (1974). Like its predecessor, this slasher tale of an amateur
porno crew embarking on a doomed feature starts innocently enough. Aspiring
Porn actress Maxine (Goth) and his producer boyfriend Wayne (Henderson), head
up proceedings with fellow actors Bobby-Lynne (Snow) and Jackson Hole (Mescudi),
Director RJ (Campbell) and girlfriend Lorraine (Ortega) in tow, as they
gallivant off to a rural Texas homestead to film footage of their movie The
Farmers Daughter. They arrive at their location, which is home to elderly
couple Howard and Pearl (Ure and Goth again). The abrasive nature of the
shotgun armed Howard does little to deter the gang from performing their visual
carnality. However, the day’s antics stir something within Pearl. Which soon
quickly morphs from sexual to murderous, with tragic consequences. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Ti West coming off the back of a few years of TV work has
come back with a horror throwback that holds a compelling use of form. The
filmmaker seems to be in his element. Playing with classic inspirations as he’s
known to do. The homages are evident.
Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) is noted in both the dialogue and visually. Maxine’s opening moments of preparation pay
subtle homage to the mirrored finale of Paul Thomas Anderson’s porn drama
Boogie Nights (1997). Albeit without the large penile appendage. The religious
fervour peppered on old televisions holds shades of Michael Parks’ crazed
priest in Kevin Smith’s Red State (2011) as well as the likes of noted,
real-life televangelist Billy Graham. Such moments appear in the film’s neatly
detailed 70s aesthetic as lived in aspects. It never feels that the nods are
cheap. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">X spends a good deal of time allowing its characters to be
people. Let’s be honest, this is a 90-minute slasher movie, so we’re on the
lookout for grand opera. But what the film does have is characters with valid
intentions. The film’s cast is headed up by Mia Goth, whose dual role as both
adult movie starlet Maxine, and elderly host Pearl, highlights the young
actress’ incredibly versatile range. Never one to shy away from the sexual
(2013s Nymphomaniac), strange (2016s A Cure for Wellness), and horrific (2018s
Suspiria remake) Goth is remarkable here. Playing both titillating temptress
and spiteful, murderous OAP with more nuance than one would expect. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From repressed sound girl Lorraine (Ortega) whose curiosity
about the sexual exploits she’s being shown shifts almost 180 degrees, to the
rudimentary yet liberating sexual politics of porn stars Bobby-Lynne and Maxine
who are more than happy to toast to the perverts who are paying their bills.
The film is just as wry with its topical conversations about sex as it is with
its sympathetic commentary of its rueful antagonists. West’s maturity has the
director blending in modern tropes of sex positivism along with its scattered
movie references to a more seamless effect. The film's overarching theme,
however, involves ageing and regret. Howard and Pearl rue the fact that the
passage of time has removed their youthful vigour. While the porno scooby gang
has only angered up the blood. If only they could see that such frustrated
desire will occur to them too.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">West has been around the block for so long that fans are
wise to his trademark approach to horror. Slowly placing block upon block of
slow-burning dread tentatively on each other before everything collapses into chaos.
The deliberate manner is reminiscent of West’s Satanic panic feature The House
of the Devil (2009). Much like House, X takes its time presenting its
characters, giving them time to breathe before the mayhem starts. What stands
out is just how well everything is staged. Much like Hereditary director Ari
Aster, West isn’t afraid to make the whole thing look beautiful. Delivering
picturesque wide and overhead shots so pretty, they make you forget about the
unnerving isolation of the surroundings. Backlit closeups and grim set pieces
are equally well envisioned. And there’s never a feeling that a scare has taken
an easy way out.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> All the scuzzy feel
of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre can be felt in X. But with none of the
cumbersome “gen-z” pandering made by the recent Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel.
X certainly enjoys touching on topical sexual politics of the present and
playing Don’t Fear the Reaper in a slasher film is just one of the few obvious
gestures that X decides to make. However, West directs X with the kind of care
that is needed in the genre. Creating a horror film that folds in eroticism,
voyeurism, and the ravages of time with a sensitivity that a lesser film would
bypass. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There is always talk about whether the horror genre is in a
period of boom or bust. With no awareness that for the most part, the genre is
nearly always steady. However, what makes the horror of the current age
interesting is its strength in variety. There’s a genuine feeling that the
genre and its filmmakers aren’t resting their laurels on just one thing.
There’s also a strong crop of filmmakers who have something to say about the
world. Even when mining into nostalgia to do so. X displays West’s deft ability
to take what’s come before him and invigorate it with modern freshness and
energy from unexpected places. An effective shocker with something to say. X
proudly makes its mark screaming at the top of its lungs. It deserves credit. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Dug what you read? Buy me a <a href="https://ko-fi.com/afrofilmviewer">Ko-fi!</a></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-26169672100043406882022-04-14T16:45:00.001+01:002022-04-17T11:22:47.135+01:00 Review: Barbarians<p>Year: 2022</p><p>Director: Charles Dorfman</p><p>Screenplay: Charles Dorfman, Statten Roeg</p>Starring: Catalina Sandino Moreno, Tom Cullen, Iwan Rheon, Will Kemp<div><br /></div><div>Synopsis is <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10189536/plotsummary?ref_=tt_stry_pl">here</a><br /><div><br /><li class="ipc-inline-list__item" role="presentation" style="background-color: #1f1f1f; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline; font-family: Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.5px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: middle;"></li><p>There’s an element of wickedness when a Barbarians is released a few weeks after <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/business/2022/apr/11/cost-of-living-crisis-uk-benefits-plunge-to-lowest-value-in-50-years">news of the U. K’s cost of living reaching the lowest point in 50 years</a>. Charles Dorfman’s home invasion thriller deals with a country home being purchased by a toxic real estate influencer, who looks set to pass everything on to his younger screenwriter brother and his artist girlfriend. Moments of some of the self-absorbed behaviour track well. Tom Cullen who plays Lucas, the laddish older brother has an obnoxiousness that slaps you in the face like a bad smell. Lobbing words like viral and engagement around like marketing hand grenades, even as he prepares to offload this dream home to his brother, he does so with some arsey hardball negotiation. In watching the earlier scenes, the unattainable nature of what’s occurring feels all too real. </p><p>This is a distraction to what Barbarians wishes to talk about. Taking cues from earlier films such as Straw Dogs (1971), while leaning into the more recent ‘millennial dining thrillers’ such as The Invitation (2015), You’re Next (2011), Ready or Not (2019) and Silent Night (2021) Barbarians observes the often-touched themes of primal violence under the veneer of civilized culture. The film’s early segments have Adam and Lucas sitting down to dinner to seal the deal. Joining them are their attractive, Mediterranean significant others Eva (Catalina Sandino Moreno) and Chloe (Inès Spiridonov) respectively. Their inconsequential chatter about current affairs, soon turns hostile between the two brothers, before their meal is interrupted by some imposing large men wearing animal masks. As these films go. </p><p>Toxic Masculinity is mentioned in so many internet articles, Twitter threads and Instagram stories, that it’s starting to feel like a buzzword. However, Barbarians is invested in exploring the topic. And does so efficiently if although slightly typically. Cullen’s Lucas is unattractively fuelled by his machoism and self-absorption from the start. It’s impressive how quickly his live social media person begins to grate. As does his alpha posturing in front of the other members of the party. He’s the kind of man you just want to punch in the face. Of course, he’s also the kind of man who invites that type of aggression. Iwan Rheon, who plays the watery-eyed subordinate brother; Adam (make note of the name) is in familiar territory here. Rheon came to fame as the withdrawn arsonist Simon in the E4 Superhero show Misfits. His personality was so introverted, that his chosen power became the ability to become invisible. His role here is not much of a stretch. Playing a docile “beta” to his louder brother, his subservience is so profound that he holds no ability to stand up to anyone. Later revelations quickly have the writer swiftly emasculated with a dismissive “good boy”. Establishing his lowly position on the totem pole.</p><p>While being a relatively predictable piece, Barbarians deals in its fair share of violence and melodrama with energy and style. It’s worth noting how Charles Dorfman is more than happy to have the middle section of his film have a rather minimal amount of dialogue, allowing the visuals to tell the story over dull, expository verbiage. The film may only be a simple update on themes of emasculation and home invasion. Yet it does everything with an assertive amount of confidence. It’s a genre piece that does the basics rather well. Sometimes. That’s all you need. </p><p><br /></p><div>Dug what you read? Buy me a <a href="https://ko-fi.com/afrofilmviewer">Ko-fi!</a></div></div></div>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-55483962828831177452022-03-31T21:51:00.006+01:002022-04-17T11:23:10.726+01:00Article: Dog Day Afternoon - Blind Watch of Dobermann<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7LJUtM7TBr_C_9MDQfzCP4-zYytp8MR8YVzDCxGghyBFY5IcZsQVNsiyjZIYeRsCgO0JB_lVicgxfhEJKEdHoEz6Y9ForAG-m8GnK_I00g0G-F1hZWblznBaOFZHODSvPU2kLn7RBT7AbrJFFoYMjsItL_-7dW03EU8j33nMA7CFVYsZCmX4B8Pxf/s364/DobermannPoster.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="364" data-original-width="273" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7LJUtM7TBr_C_9MDQfzCP4-zYytp8MR8YVzDCxGghyBFY5IcZsQVNsiyjZIYeRsCgO0JB_lVicgxfhEJKEdHoEz6Y9ForAG-m8GnK_I00g0G-F1hZWblznBaOFZHODSvPU2kLn7RBT7AbrJFFoYMjsItL_-7dW03EU8j33nMA7CFVYsZCmX4B8Pxf/s320/DobermannPoster.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I’ve been trying to find something that would shake me out of semi-doom scrolling the socials as we enter yet another day of the Chris Rock/Will Smith Crap Joke/Stupid slap discourse that has been running since the Oscars played out on March 27. This first-time watch of Jan Kounen’s hyper-kinetic, heist actioner Dobermann was just the right thing to jolt me out of award season malaise and push me into babbling some paragraphs down on this semi disused blog. It shouldn’t take me third-party hot takes of some badly behaved actors to get me back on the blog horse. However, the fresh prince’s slap heard around the world once again reminded me of how so much of film culture is now dedicated to talking around films, but never about them. I’m sure I have my own opinions about the utter nonsense that occurred on Oscar night. But that’s far too wrapped up in my disdain for the Academy Awards themselves. I will note, however, with all the people of colour making clear gains with their wins, this was ruined by a moment of macho madness which screamed bad optics to many in the silent majority. If you think reading by reading this paragraph, you know how I feel about the whole shebang. Guess again. But thanks for helping my SEO gain marginal footfall to my lowly page.</p><p>Back to the reason for this post. Doberman. A 1997 crime flick that was recommended to me by my dear friend and Hustlers of Culture podcast co-host: Hugh David. I remember Hugh excitably telling me of this wild, French slice of madness almost 10 years ago. I purchased the out of print, Tartan Video DVD almost 5 years ago. Which highlights a point for me: If you passionately recommend a film to me, I usually put it on a list, and I do try and get around to watching it. Just don’t expect a reaction a week later.</p><p>Dobermann is a product of Dutch-born French film director Jan Kounen who is now possibly more known for his <a href="https://www.idfa.nl/en/film/4b665914-f77a-4b85-8b9d-cdc2e8a05112/ayahuasca-the-shamanic-exhibition">Shamanism </a>than his films. After working in advertising and creating two critically acclaimed shorts, Kounen drummed up the clout to create this first feature. From the film's first frames in which a Dobermann saunters through a church graveyard, we are ensured that subtly is not found here.</p><p>A smattering of plot. The wild-haired Yann Lepentrec (Vincent Cassel) otherwise known as Doberman arranges a complex heist with his misfit friends and deaf girlfriend "Nat the Gipsy" (Monica Bellucci) which leads to a large manhunt by the Parisian police. The hunt is led by Christini (Tchéky Karyo<span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: #4d5156;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">)</span></span>, a cop whose moral bankruptcy is as deep as a sandworm’s stomach on Arrakis. Once Christini catches a whiff of the gun-loving thief, chaos ensues, building up to a frenzied and brutal climax.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPyD_ApYLzE2GZxlBFyrG22qTtUFOGFCxaZuo-ghgH_zL44tuegXL0qc3Q1evQLzalu4RnrGRebQ8p3nFgo4diAnYgoRjerDj7tR-Qnq16cjmGsmQqRgE_r5Fx3f_azUyFCr3GZTlKtgi0rh-wcZB24aXOoGmiuAm7Bqnx7zy6XVuLpMzX7Mey-Gd/s1000/dobermann-1997-018.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="1000" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPyD_ApYLzE2GZxlBFyrG22qTtUFOGFCxaZuo-ghgH_zL44tuegXL0qc3Q1evQLzalu4RnrGRebQ8p3nFgo4diAnYgoRjerDj7tR-Qnq16cjmGsmQqRgE_r5Fx3f_azUyFCr3GZTlKtgi0rh-wcZB24aXOoGmiuAm7Bqnx7zy6XVuLpMzX7Mey-Gd/s320/dobermann-1997-018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>I thought Doberman would leave me shook up. My overall response was more muted than expected. It’s a film that certainly has its moments. Watching a stray Doberman run into the church and attack a criminal, leading him to throw the gun that he was holding into his crying son’s pram, is certainly a way to introduce the character of Dobermann. The film certainly enjoys trying to lob grenades of craziness into its atmosphere. Many scenes feel as if ripped out of an angry teenager’s graphic novel. Doberman excels in nailing a wild comic book style energy, despite not pushing the boat out in other needless things such as plot. I was taken aback by how lightweight the film felt overall. With the film’s eager dynamic action covering a rather ho-hum screenplay.</p><p>Perhaps with Dobermann appearing nearer the back end of the era which delivered us the birth of one Quintin Tarantino and a strain of post-modern crime flicks, the film found itself under unfortunate circumstances. Watching Doberman's dated opening titles, which features a CGI-suited dog who chomps cigars, and urinates on actors' credits all the while holding a magnum, it’s difficult not to shake off some of the film's try-hard attempts of transgression. Tarantino chopped up his narratives and made gangsters a bunch of lads who nattered about tipping waitresses and chomping burgers with Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Pulp Fiction (1994) respectively. Elsewhere, Michael Mann decided to go for all-out operatic. Pitting Al Pacino and Robert De Niro together in a long-anticipated showdown with Heat (1995). Doberman features a cameo from one Gasper Noe, one of the leading lights in the New French Extremity movement coined by Artforum critic James Quandt. Noe’s film I Stand Alone (1998) coming a year after Doberman, shows where boundaries began to get pushed. Doberman sits awkwardly in between the brash philosophies of the Americans and the aggressively nihilistic visions of directors like Gasper Noe. While Tarantino decides to cut the heist because it doesn’t matter., Doberman merely has all its characters yelling like nothing matters. But they have no interesting thematic provocations.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLGwmOp9oJAniLbSmAOM-J8q3dVZvGWHdAtkmLTTJf9BOi_B7HRlIC5q4Sh6YLME46IRg83cRfBq8Jjf0t1B5dC_J2-CGf_tvoVcrzPuVvrVpoIosNMU1E8E2aOw75Pgb9iVZbs7h3e6j861oisdXS_hvfL03M4G7SRLm6Sr4ro4X5Uz36ShUEd-e/s1362/dobermann.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="1362" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLGwmOp9oJAniLbSmAOM-J8q3dVZvGWHdAtkmLTTJf9BOi_B7HRlIC5q4Sh6YLME46IRg83cRfBq8Jjf0t1B5dC_J2-CGf_tvoVcrzPuVvrVpoIosNMU1E8E2aOw75Pgb9iVZbs7h3e6j861oisdXS_hvfL03M4G7SRLm6Sr4ro4X5Uz36ShUEd-e/s320/dobermann.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>However, Doberman is about looking cool first and asking questions on morality much later. Best viewed as a cult curiosity, it’s the kind of lower-budgeted movie which makes use of its limited number of locations. The action sequences hold a frenzied momentum, while the film's triple-headed cast of Cassell, Bellucci, and Karyo gnaw wildly at what scenery exists. There’s a dark charm that inhabits much of the film's craft. From locking a grenade into a cop’s bike helmet while still wearing it, to a dance DJ blasting out tunes ecstatically while a full-blown gunfight is taking place beside him. Both Cassell and Bellucci enjoy themselves while being somewhat short-changed considering their talents. But it’s Karyo who fully revels in sadistic narcissism with his role of a rogue cop gone off the deep end. Like Gary Oldman’s Norman Stansfield in Leon (1994), he gets all the film's best character moments.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDIlZcLepjlbD2dcbfscKdM-v8KYBKLgiFxjv9KcpQTRFEQFes_NPJD65_XRBmnBhKkz21K7qqFIsKEBzs_7SgRwfm930fHayewGqxgV-PX8eMfOS_bqHrXF5Xy6yMFCyBBXxoL0PMtnaJzWsSPl2dyWmGJmcj6PbOkpa9LyxktItNlErs_shhKzm/s1200/dober3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="1200" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDIlZcLepjlbD2dcbfscKdM-v8KYBKLgiFxjv9KcpQTRFEQFes_NPJD65_XRBmnBhKkz21K7qqFIsKEBzs_7SgRwfm930fHayewGqxgV-PX8eMfOS_bqHrXF5Xy6yMFCyBBXxoL0PMtnaJzWsSPl2dyWmGJmcj6PbOkpa9LyxktItNlErs_shhKzm/s320/dober3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>For the most part, Doberman serves itself well as a morbid sugar rush, which would be worth a new generation of hipster films to seek out, if they don’t mind the volume of homophobia exhibited by some of the characters. The film isn’t a crowning achievement for its well-known cast, but it’s not a bad late-night watch that would make an interesting double bill with Roger Avery’s Killing Zoe (1994) if you’re up for a little bloodshed.</p><p><br /></p><p>Dug what you read? Buy me a <a href="https://ko-fi.com/afrofilmviewer">Ko-fi!</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-83784799959587438782021-12-06T17:28:00.000+00:002021-12-06T17:28:04.920+00:00Article: Love and Isolation - A blind watch of The Honeymoon Killers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjtJtPbC0LV2AOeX2JdWmFtfzdVC8NtJMim7-BZAVpikdHw0-OomHAksk1zcQNRek-mhn9GGZ7zb5Qr3Ezah9Nl1IU-ILQfxMUgYsoD8k4Ch_OI_UhiBH5HrZ2dQEjz-OZy9Or_U7VIM/s300/honeymoon-killers-1970-movie-poster-review-214x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="214" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjtJtPbC0LV2AOeX2JdWmFtfzdVC8NtJMim7-BZAVpikdHw0-OomHAksk1zcQNRek-mhn9GGZ7zb5Qr3Ezah9Nl1IU-ILQfxMUgYsoD8k4Ch_OI_UhiBH5HrZ2dQEjz-OZy9Or_U7VIM/s0/honeymoon-killers-1970-movie-poster-review-214x300.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><p>You know what's great? Finding a Blu-ray in your collection you forgot you picked up a while back. You know what is better than that? When you purchased said Blu-Ray because you knew little about the film in the first place. I had picked up the Arrow Blu-Ray of The Honeymoon Killers on the cheap, with little knowledge about the film other than the intriguing title and cult status. My first viewing of this 1970 feature was a blind one. Such a watch feels oddly quaint in the information age era. Blind purchases and viewings are something I definitely urge younger film fans do too. You never know. You may unearth a gem.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QR8_M1-Ok8XQV666t1-mTkVk7T0zzbZtCoZNuGqUCeg2zpAPevVAlREoX6Y5Sdj6HLIwhyphenhyphen8ygUJCjIOt5cO7HEvDrqCmXuCLsPBaIaQy1p5LIy8RsPB-EghMdIEGk8kgm0ggywq7nR8/s600/honeymoon_medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QR8_M1-Ok8XQV666t1-mTkVk7T0zzbZtCoZNuGqUCeg2zpAPevVAlREoX6Y5Sdj6HLIwhyphenhyphen8ygUJCjIOt5cO7HEvDrqCmXuCLsPBaIaQy1p5LIy8RsPB-EghMdIEGk8kgm0ggywq7nR8/s320/honeymoon_medium.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>The Honeymoon Killers is something I would not call a treasure. It’s far too seedy to feel beloved. It is however a startingly potent slice of viewing. In terms of tone, the best comparison would be Henry: A Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986). In skimming reviews, few noted the films macabre humour, which I do concede the film does have. Yet like Henry, The Honeymoon Killers is shoe leather tough material. A scuffed and bruised tale lifted from true crime which relishes making you feel bad that you enjoy its scandalous nature. Followers of true crime will feel at home here. Particularly in the universal ease at how the main conceit can be still be transferred into modern life. </p><p>A dash of story. Inspired by a true story and set in 50’s America, Martha Beck is an obese and embittered Nurse. Her conduct is so blunt that one can only wonder what her bedside manner could be like. Martha is also desperately lonely. Living with her mother, the fraying relationships can easily be seen. It’s not the company she wishes to keep. She craves male attention. A friend signs her up (against her wishes) to a lonely-hearts correspondent’s club. Her letter is picked up by Ray; a “Latin from Manhattan” who at first sees Martha as just another notch in his long line of female marks whom he seduces, robs money from and leaves soon after, leaving them too embarrassed to make a retrieval. Martha however thinks differently a coerces Ray into being a partner. Both romantically and in crime. The couple continues on with Ray’s lonely heart scam, albeit with Martha posing as his somewhat repressed sister. There’s now a change in the plan. The amendment is now murder.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfGhbonqKDjr4yFAWEarUfZVPzV_5hbS9bfIXfbOzKJCsxmFfzVJ_8Bj7bTBp0lxrz_KyIps7hAtNdYAwP-U0kcdUZQoKRycNleHjVuWu_Y-oWfZkj-TCfvjb1VhyFLL4-HJIA_VGFJk/s1280/f3ec6608-26a5-463b-8972-6ee6442fe098-1280x720.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfGhbonqKDjr4yFAWEarUfZVPzV_5hbS9bfIXfbOzKJCsxmFfzVJ_8Bj7bTBp0lxrz_KyIps7hAtNdYAwP-U0kcdUZQoKRycNleHjVuWu_Y-oWfZkj-TCfvjb1VhyFLL4-HJIA_VGFJk/s320/f3ec6608-26a5-463b-8972-6ee6442fe098-1280x720.png" width="320" /></a></div><p> Famed director and marvel fandom agitator Martin Scorsese was famously fired from the production of The Honeymoon Killers due to the most infamous of reasons: "creative differences". Allegedly Scorsese wished to shoot everything in master shots. This made stitching the film difficult. An amusing aside when considering the filmmakers slight at comic book movies which appear to truly adore the idea of coverage. It was also noted that Scorsese was taking too much time and eating into the tight budget. The final straw was the Goodfellas Helmer supposedly performing arty close-ups of a beer can. The firing obviously didn't hamper the acclaimed director's career prospects. However, the completed film was credited to Opera composer Leonard Kastle. The Honeymoon Killers was his only feature production. </p><p> Kastle took over from Scorsese's replacement Donald Volkman, who only lasted a fortnight on the production. While much more is said about Scorsese's involvement due to the director's statue, The Honeymoon Killers feels more owed to the likes of Volkman and Kastle. The gritty and unrefined look leans more towards the types of industrial films that Volkman was known for. While the film's overall unkemptness certainly has the feeling of a debut filmmaker, though this is by no way a knock on the product itself. Kastle’s lack of inbuilt habits allows the film to go rogue in terms of conventional cinematic traits. A moment from the film’s opening starts with the kind of roaming camera shot one would expect from Scorsese. However, once the camera positions itself, perhaps due to limited space, the actors stand awkwardly within the edge of the frame. Letting dead space dominate the frame. Cinematographer Oliver Wood’s lensing often matches the grim and disconcerting subject matter. The flatly lit, grainy images visually contribute to the film’s disturbing look at the banality of evil.</p><p><br /></p><p>All over the Honeymoon Killers lies an ugliness of the narrow social lens that existed in the period. It is easy to see why this couple chooses to prey upon these women. These victims have already been displaced by society. In the Blu-ray extras filmmaker Todd Robinson notes that after the Second World War, there was a high volume of vulnerable women isolated due to the fallout of the conflict. It’s an aspect that heightens the ease of connectivity that technology brings us today. It also highlights how easily the women in this picture were quickly spurned by the dominant way of living. That their situation was held in contempt. It’s little surprise that the advent of internet dating (despite all its many flaws) has softened the view of the so-called personal ad and the people who use them Although ask the right people, and there’s still quite a way to go. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_L-LENyTTiHH8-V3Q2dOUtTt5zfklYj2WEs_H2XvBHMVmWE3qtn8xjncHihhE4wlx01oKbFDUMyw5zkL0YccH3DVfyHQ27UZ7CsoPqWZP2YSl9GHbtkqjMwziBK11Johzu1rkUspgArc/s796/the-honeymoon-killers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="485" data-original-width="796" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_L-LENyTTiHH8-V3Q2dOUtTt5zfklYj2WEs_H2XvBHMVmWE3qtn8xjncHihhE4wlx01oKbFDUMyw5zkL0YccH3DVfyHQ27UZ7CsoPqWZP2YSl9GHbtkqjMwziBK11Johzu1rkUspgArc/s320/the-honeymoon-killers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Throughout the movie, women are viewed as spinsters or looked down upon due to wider age gaps or pregnancy out of wedlock. The conversations held between the victims in their cramped living rooms bring their desperation to light. Martha also isn’t immune to this. Her abrasive and controlling manner feel unsurprising when she loses her job early in the film. The hospital is more than happy to simply just rifle through her personal belongings just because. Scenes make a strong point of her weight and enjoyment of sweet treats. Despite trying to hide his receding hairline via toupees and hairpieces, Ray’s apparent attractiveness and ability to woo are more welcoming to an overweight woman of her demeanour who lives with her mother. When Ray first tries to con Martha, she counters by claiming she attempted suicide when he left. This type of manipulation follows throughout the film. As Martha’s jealously of the younger, more objectively prettier women is barely hidden. While the audience doesn't witness the actions, yet it's made obvious that Ray is sleeping with these women to bolster his own ego. Also, with Ray’s income stemming from conning lonely women through seduction, The Honeymoon Killers makes not that desperation is not only found in the women. </p><p>Kastle’s use of form distorts our view of time and space as if we were in a casino of hopelessness. We’re never quite sure how much time has elapsed unless a character offhandedly mentions it. So many scenes are set in cramped living spaces. If those spaces are left, it’s only to move the action to cars or buses. New York is mentioned, yet perhaps due to budget limitations, never really visited. With the film uninterested in truly pinpointing its geography. Save for a couple of moments. Amusingly while occupying a suburban household, Ray brusquely labels suburbia itself as an identikit prison of sorts, hinting at characters morose point of view. It’s also a line that reinforces the compact feel of the film itself. One key moment is set outside in which Ray does what he can to woo a young lady but ends with a jealous Martha doing her best to drown herself in a river. The camera drops down with her. Water submerges Martha and any breathable air. From aquatic disasters such as this to the brutal methods Ray and Martha use to kill victims, the film in so many aspects feels suffocating.</p><p>The film uses its twisted sense of humour to sit unsettlingly side by side with the film's overwhelming grimness. One can't shake the feeling that John Waters absorbed this before he when on to create the deviously satirical Serial Mom (1994). Courting sympathy with its monsters while selling its victims often as irritants. Despite their bratty arguments, at the film’s heart, the conniving couple does seem to have a connection with each other. More so than the hapless victims. Although do these other women get a chance? Perhaps a better question is how likely would anyone get on with a partner who screeches ‘America, the Brave’ offkey at the top of their lungs? Maybe it’s Martha’s eye-rolling at yet another unexpecting single woman believing this is her chance of happiness, or perhaps Ray’s snake-hipped dancing while Martha’s drugged mother struggles to stay awake. The film is dusted with jewels of silliness that encourages a viewer to giggle ashamedly.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4h7er_4GpwmIQ6KTdpQ51yEP9oEOGxIjmWho_zW2gOJl06eQx8WqWGBGZ79EO-eZGSyeattTa_RSNmkXraegpa2phgXy4zoBbEKQzfl6_ncY4FzHZ7TYOlxqlPDpqiwfwb31wUTl93EY/s454/honeymoonkillers4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="454" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4h7er_4GpwmIQ6KTdpQ51yEP9oEOGxIjmWho_zW2gOJl06eQx8WqWGBGZ79EO-eZGSyeattTa_RSNmkXraegpa2phgXy4zoBbEKQzfl6_ncY4FzHZ7TYOlxqlPDpqiwfwb31wUTl93EY/s320/honeymoonkillers4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>However, the film’s disarming sharp turns always ensures that the laughs are short-lived. One of the films final sequences involves the murder of the politically conservative, romantically naïve Delphine Downing and her small child. It is a scene that is chilling in its execution. It’s a sequence that is less explicit than moments that have come before it yet sticks out for the horrified and disgusted reactions that come from it. </p><p>It is unfortunate that Kastle only made one film in his lifetime. The composer finds himself falling in a similar category as William Peter Blatty (The Exorcist 3, The Ninth Configuration) or Charles Laughton (The Night of the Hunter). Filmmakers with limited filmographies, but with texts which all held distinctive visions. With his work so often considered to be celebratory of sociopaths, one wonders if Scorsese would have brought forth the same unsentimental approach to the material that Kastle achieved. The Honeymoon Killers is a killer couple feature that is nestled between Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and Badlands (1973). It may not have the same influence, yet by holding none of the romanticism, The Honeymoon Kills comes across as more honest. The impassive balance between the casual and the caustic, along with the deep isolation and despair felt by the characters makes The Honeymoon Killers stand out from its new Hollywood counterparts. A blind watch of a film shrouded in darkness. This cult classic was certainly worth partaking in. </p><p>Dug what you read? Buy me a <a href="https://ko-fi.com/afrofilmviewer">Ko-fi!</a></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-57706618949487420522021-12-02T23:57:00.004+00:002021-12-02T23:57:56.727+00:00Article: Southern Fried Chaos - Rambling Re-watch of Killer Joe<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHcQno30YlAapIGvWfMnP6Mew3_tQ_ISXATyQdDrOMh5Oll06gSHtXgWnD8VkF-O_L48Avjh1zWYu49MiqvXN5-17fn5q2jrPtBQDFtDR224swh9YTDam0FBJ74mOK1-e9Ee5f9iynDo/s2048/killer+joe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHcQno30YlAapIGvWfMnP6Mew3_tQ_ISXATyQdDrOMh5Oll06gSHtXgWnD8VkF-O_L48Avjh1zWYu49MiqvXN5-17fn5q2jrPtBQDFtDR224swh9YTDam0FBJ74mOK1-e9Ee5f9iynDo/s320/killer+joe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Killer Joe may now be a decade old, yet it’s lost none of the anarchy which made it so memorable on release. In fact, with current cinematic expressions (both thoughts and films) trapped in a moral binary state, Joe feels even edgier. There are times that this first collaboration between director William Friedkin and playwright Tracey Letts feels like a scrub down with wire wool and sand. Yet its abrasiveness still delivers a morbid delight. Once the film hits fever pitch, it is still difficult to turn away.</p><p>This tale of deep-fried double indemnity begins when Chris (Emile Hirsch) gets thrown out of his mother’s house. The young drug dealer soon hatches a ludicrous scheme to off his mother with the help of his oblivious father; Ansel (Thomas Hayden Church). Word has it that if Chris’ mother dies, her insurance pay-out will land in the lap of Chris’ innocent sister Dottie (Juno Temple). Sounds too good to be true. It certainly comes across that way to Detective Joe Cooper, the full-time cop, part-time contract killer hired to do the deed. With Chris unable to stump up the cash for Joe, the cop requests a retainer: Dottie. With Killer Joe beginning in the middle of a thunderstorm, you know these people won’t find peace.</p><p>Half a neo-noir, half grotesque morality tale, Killer Joe doesn’t hold the same gritty faux-documentary style imagery as Friedkin 70’s works. There’s a slickness in Caleb Deschanel’s cinematography which firmly highlights a stark contrast from the muted tones seen in the likes of The French Connection (1971) or The Exorcist (1973). Yet the scuzzy sensibilities that have been found in many of Friedkin’s characters remain very much intact. In an opening scene, Chris opens a door to a character introducing us to their private parts before we see their face. Each member of this low-rent family only seems to communicate in arguments. Their blind ignorance is only matched by greed. Their obnoxiousness wouldn’t feel out of place in a Rob Zombie movie. Yet even the Firefly family has more kinship than these unfortunates.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWBB94mDvzZAN69SzArWkbaxN4JL2umVvRFzC7fJjjQ73BhHSXwD6I2ZhfLOLpLsfVs0sJ_1lSe81fBfGsvzoHOVYDZiAyc5QbiCG6CW531kCtdzOU9hzWgOY2_DCZmd7OyzBSgtXJYbM/s640/1killerjoe.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="640" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWBB94mDvzZAN69SzArWkbaxN4JL2umVvRFzC7fJjjQ73BhHSXwD6I2ZhfLOLpLsfVs0sJ_1lSe81fBfGsvzoHOVYDZiAyc5QbiCG6CW531kCtdzOU9hzWgOY2_DCZmd7OyzBSgtXJYbM/s320/1killerjoe.png" width="320" /></a></div><p>This brings us to the titular Joe, who Roger Ebert remarks in his review of the film as not stupid but makes the severe mistake in not realising how stupid this family is. Dottie sees the danger that resides within him. “His eyes hurt,” she remarks more than once. Her comments are often dismissed because the stupidity of the family members is more than a touch louder. Dressed mostly in black, a shot early in the film frames Joe in a front door window peering in at the innocent “retainer”. An economically effective image of the game being preyed upon.</p><p>Matthew McConaughey’s performance as Joe was hailed as a career-best. It’s not difficult to see why. Within the decade before Joe Cooper, McConaughey’s most visible roles were a raft of middling features in which his good looks and laid-back southern drawl were the defining aspects of some bland displays. For a long time, the actor who held roles in films such as A Time to Kill (1996) and Amistad (1997) seemed almost doomed to banal rom coms in which he could be found leaning against his female co-star on the marketing posters. Lesser seen films like Frailty (2001) helped punctuate reminders that McConaughey was fully capable of complicated or subversive roles. That said, such performances probably don’t bring home as much bacon as How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days (2003). Fair dues.</p><p>Between 2011-2014, McConaughey netted a glut of roles that had media outlets hailing a 'McConaissance'. A resounding career comeback in which nearly every display by the actor was worth watching. Killer Joe was near the start of this second act. McConaughey resurrected his righteous cop act from John Sayles’ Lone Star (1996) and inverting it with a large injection of corruption. That easy-going image of the early 00s is left waving in the distance. With these new choice roles, McConaughey brings forth something more profoundly sinister. With this newfound intensity, Joe Cooper rules supreme. The lazy, baritone drawl is now something more deliberate and mannered. The knowing, slightly smug smile is missing. The haunted look on McConaughey’s face during Joe’s first anxiety-ridden meeting with Dottie becomes a primer to another of the actor’s Top tier performances: True Detective’s Rustin Cohle. Both Joe Cooper and Cohle have McConaughey throwing the kind of middle-distance stare that suggests that years of investigation have plunged each of them deep into their own heart of darkness. At least Cohle’s nihilism has a glimmer of a man looking to repentance. The moment Joe Cooper’s eyes settle on the innocent Dottie, the man has designs to remove that purity.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid31SOkcaOPlS09_1KIVrZ-hahnsZ8FTqT2BHEwah-GsZQL_C5-0HeL7FBHG4LTCX_dHznqWwoqqohs-amhkyhCoHi1Fcq-c0yRKmgFmq5_L1YNEs484d0phFrPJkSXJx8_QFozd7aimE/s564/joe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="310" data-original-width="564" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid31SOkcaOPlS09_1KIVrZ-hahnsZ8FTqT2BHEwah-GsZQL_C5-0HeL7FBHG4LTCX_dHznqWwoqqohs-amhkyhCoHi1Fcq-c0yRKmgFmq5_L1YNEs484d0phFrPJkSXJx8_QFozd7aimE/s320/joe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Friedkin revels in the dysfunction with a wicked sense of humour. Joe, Chris, and Ansel converse with each other in a morbid Three Stooges mentality. At the mid-way point, Chris has a run-in with his debtors. A scene executed with sly cordial hospitality. Later Ansel has a suited sight gag for the ages. A joke so perfect I had to scold myself as I forgot it happened. It is pitch-perfect. The finale is a different matter. The comedy soon dissipates before throwing the audience headfirst into the infamous "K Fried C" scene. With Friedkin reminding viewers that even in the twilight of his career, he knows how to put together a sequence that can make a person gag.</p><p>The graphic climax came under a cloud of controversy, with Friedkin steadfastly refusing to bow down to censor the film. “To get an R rating, I would have had to destroy it in order to save it and I wasn't interested in doing that,” Friedkin remarked in an interview with Rope of Silicon. The MPAA released Killer Joe with the NC-17 rating, often a death nail in terms of commercial viability. Looking at the film a decade later, in an era where online conversations around even the slightest moral grey area require a whiff of smelling salts, one feels an element of luck that such a film came out unscathed. These are morally repugnant crooks, whose deeds are more than a little grim. Just like the 70s Friedkin understands the assignment and the film never sympathises with its ugly people. But just like those days, he does more enough in Killer Joe for us to laugh and fear them. Praise be.</p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-9405591773663199042021-03-15T14:01:00.002+00:002021-03-15T14:06:30.880+00:00Article: Glasgow Film Festival – Findings: Part 3<p>Life gets in the way. Because of this, my belated final post on the Glasgow film festival now comes in at a time when everyone is bleating on about Awards season. Such is life. Such is life. </p><p><br /></p><p><b>A Brixton Tale:</b></p><p>This drama of black fears and white tears is a low-level mixture of The Shape of Things and What Richard Did, with a touch of Nightcrawler sprinkled in for good measure. A Brixton Tale finds ways to get under the skin with some of its themes but also frustrates with its lack of connecting tissue and shrugging resolution.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKzqaBa5Ir0FwdWSnKTG19eUf_jtJ0Qa5Ks8jS10MVG86uIDW9qSI7v1lqQIGq3PzbgtwtCbV5ddwFiMMEODl2mLd1kWTyYVVcGkeKjMVQPQbI8ezTVnQJAKQ0hEWPuUV9Rdpamz-gik/s1600/abt.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKzqaBa5Ir0FwdWSnKTG19eUf_jtJ0Qa5Ks8jS10MVG86uIDW9qSI7v1lqQIGq3PzbgtwtCbV5ddwFiMMEODl2mLd1kWTyYVVcGkeKjMVQPQbI8ezTVnQJAKQ0hEWPuUV9Rdpamz-gik/s320/abt.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>White Youtuber Leah meets Benji in Brixton by chance and decides to make the black teenager the subject of her video documentary. As they spend more time together, a romance forms between the two, as does a cultural clash between Leah’s cosy middle-class life and Benji’s inner-city background.</p><p>One of the things the film does exceedingly well is to highlight the power of white manipulation of male black masculinity. From the very start, something is unsettling on how Leah not only quietly observing Benjy through her lens but how she subtly influences situations to her whim. All the while conveniently removing herself from the line of fire. Leah’s camera, along with insert shots of CCTV cameras and crowded mostly white rooms, illustrate the feeling of a black male image always under surveillance. Particularly via white agitators. From Policeman to even best friends. The most effective example is the contrast between Benji’s mostly benevolent temperament and how he is represented by the champagne-sipping middle class in an exhibition of Leah’s art.</p><p>The film packs a lot within its short running time, but this seemingly comes at a cost. The films final third looks to elevate the drama but buckles slightly due to the weaker foundations underlying the earlier half. The film starts reaching with certain outcomes and revelations falling flat as opposed to feeling justified. Then again, there are at points a couple of moments that may ask one to suspend belief to rationalise a young teenage girl holding a film camera.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>The Mauritanian:</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjX4eqR7S44pZVAl4NEBLpTfEBZAJzmLKJwaGFpceN7VvE98p4y1rJ__zrorYk2y9_THBMP-dw3ejQ7bGfy3I4tOYfSYXamxdlrdhD51Dyl-NQI-DlXOtAeiZIfA6TWLoWAy2ejzuzRN0/s1486/The+Mauritanian.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1116" data-original-width="1486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjX4eqR7S44pZVAl4NEBLpTfEBZAJzmLKJwaGFpceN7VvE98p4y1rJ__zrorYk2y9_THBMP-dw3ejQ7bGfy3I4tOYfSYXamxdlrdhD51Dyl-NQI-DlXOtAeiZIfA6TWLoWAy2ejzuzRN0/s320/The+Mauritanian.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />With its impressive cast and heavy subject matter, The Mauritanian has its sights on gaining some glittering prestige reception. The fictional feature explores the true story of Mohamedou Ould Slahi’s, the titular Mauritanian who was held captive in Guantánamo Bay for years without any formal charge. It is a film that comes at a time when the events of 9/11 mature into its 2nd decade, and the after shocks are still being felt, if albeit less pronounced. It is certainly a subject worth looking into as America moves forward into the Biden administration, the shadowy detention centre still casting a huge cloud over each presiding government.<p></p><p>The film has a ton of moving parts and director Kevin MacDonald does a decent job trying to keep all the plates spinning for the most part. It’s helped with a cast of reliable actors capable of making material such as this engaging.</p><p>Despite the shifts back and forth through time, and some affecting moments from Tahar Rahim, an actor who really should be talked up more, never elevates itself into anything truly memorable. As a fictional retelling, it never has the pull of something like Zero Dark Thirty or United 93, elsewhere documentaries such as Alex Gibney’s Taxi to the Dark Side have talked about the dubious practices seen in The Mauritanian with stronger provocation. This does not stop the film’s final moments – now with the commonly used real-life footage – from being holding a certain amount of poignancy.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Against The Tide:</b></p><p>I was invited to view Giulia Candussi’s delicately told short documentary Against near the end of the Festival, and personally feel it is worth it’s small run time.</p><p>Simply composed and capturing its Scottish scenery beautifully, Candussi’s short account on a woman’s trial membership with a remote, self-sustaining communion away from the relentless pursuit of modern life is a quietly warming journey. Much like Candussi’s Back to the Roots photo project (found on her <a href="https://www.giuliacandussi.com/back-to-the-roots">website</a>), the film timely highlights ideals of simplicity and finding deeper connections with ourselves against our chaotic modern world. A fitting finish to the festival.</p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-64431432377000720032021-02-26T16:10:00.001+00:002021-02-26T16:11:00.334+00:00 Article: Glasgow Film Festival – Findings - Part 2<p>One of the most enjoyable aspects of this festival for me has been a more enhanced feeling of discovery. My excursions to the London Film Festival have so often been hurried trips to packed cinemas, watching the more marketed films a few months before they are released to the awaiting public. Films by popular filmmakers are filled up quickly, and while that buzz of watching such films never truly leaves, patrons such as myself who do not have the luxury of absorbing all the fruits of the festival must economise what little time they have.</p><p>Glasgow Film Festival in its current form has given me a far more open stance on viewing opportunities. Save for Minari which I labelled as a must-see, I have found myself making a lot of choices at random. Decisions based on little else than I have the time and the film might have only a solitary element which I find worth investigating.</p><p>It may be a female director. It could be that I have simply not seen a film from that country. Hell, it might just be down to the blurb on the website. Hell with one choice, it was all these things. Either way, I took a divining rod approach to things to see if I found anything that I would consider worthwhile.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Preparations to be Together for an Unknown Period of Time:</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvYMLnqZ5rw5iXjXxScZZuxJtqbwGQa9bh6llxwQQtC-ETZBUXijRHWrbenbA89LGTPX-hIAdUUE9BE0a45ys5IIOdTdFizB25EdfIDFlXVWKm8DVnzmiFNK1PeNoinTk1ZyFqZDN52s/s1200/preparations.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvYMLnqZ5rw5iXjXxScZZuxJtqbwGQa9bh6llxwQQtC-ETZBUXijRHWrbenbA89LGTPX-hIAdUUE9BE0a45ys5IIOdTdFizB25EdfIDFlXVWKm8DVnzmiFNK1PeNoinTk1ZyFqZDN52s/s320/preparations.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>With a running time much more merciful than its title, this mysterious drama takes place in the gloomy streets of Budapest. A doctor travels from America back to her home country for a date with another doctor in a pact reminiscent of the end of Before Sunrise. She finds herself dubiously stood up by the supposed love of her life. When encountering the man soon afterwards, he claims to have never met her before.</p><p>Director Lili Horvát produces an intriguing premise to get one’s teeth into, and the blurb on the web site make grand comparisons to Hitchcock and Kieślowski. Oddly enough, this drama had slight feelings of Haneke’s The Piano Teacher, although far less cynical. The film becomes a quiet study of the irrational risks that love can produce. So much of the film harbours the kind of tension usually obtained in a more violent thriller, however, Horvát is far more interested in the light cracking of neurosurgeon Márta Vizy’s (Natasa Stork) icy veneer than delivering an overdramatic psychosis.</p><p>Vizy’s decision to leave her high position in America to pursue the doctor opens a world of perceived irrationality. She takes residency in an empty squalid flat. She takes a position in the same hospital as this stranger. Her choices lead to her work being scrutinised in spite of being the best in her field.</p><p>Holding its cards tightly to its chest, Preparations works for most of its brief run time. Stork’s impassive expression often leaves us to wonder if she is lost her mind, or something even more insidious. The film stumbles slightly as it heads towards it’s fragile yet hopeful finale, but this doesn’t stop Horvat’s impressive methodical drip-feed execution of the story from keeping everything on tenterhooks.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Sweetheart:</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-bAYdOq-Wlj62hJaAicCiR_uzvTHSaoK7plwsvQBDo__WxgMzXM3glbaYQbvJIl3v0f4vxe1re0HZf09ZJqy3dMJ4DDyqzQqhrE0LJGMRl4fUc4D8DIgGrpoeyDHcVnCvKFTStKS4BdU/s1501/sweetheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="835" data-original-width="1501" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-bAYdOq-Wlj62hJaAicCiR_uzvTHSaoK7plwsvQBDo__WxgMzXM3glbaYQbvJIl3v0f4vxe1re0HZf09ZJqy3dMJ4DDyqzQqhrE0LJGMRl4fUc4D8DIgGrpoeyDHcVnCvKFTStKS4BdU/s320/sweetheart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The type of film which deserves to find its audience. Sweethearts: a coming-of-age story of a socially awkward, environmentally conscious teenager forced to go on holiday with her family to a Butlins style park, is not a film with many surprises. It is by no means a reinvention of the wheel. Nor does it have to be. Instead, Sweetheart is a strong remainder type of film that the British can do well. Taking advantage of its beachside location and filling it with a fun cast of up and comers and character actors, the film nails the anxiety of the passage of time between leaving childhood and finding the beginnings of post-adolescence. It works because it does the basic things well. The closest bedfellow to Sweetheart is perhaps Submarine, while the former is not as quirky as the latter. Nevertheless, Sweetheart should be seen for its sharp observations, tender moments of drama, and generally being a good laugh for most of its runtime.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Tina:</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjny7MLRAjVETKNuAsXDO-e-vYsjARTkWXPJSC9ePxGMcTKN2n_B-CG758IErodIoWkozPBRIGL4eqzx60W_cvoPhCcMbGb7DW3IWVg_jtJ2YTXieZRwAGRBr7xUkEU6-WuPoMMC8COACc/s2000/tinadoc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1270" data-original-width="2000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjny7MLRAjVETKNuAsXDO-e-vYsjARTkWXPJSC9ePxGMcTKN2n_B-CG758IErodIoWkozPBRIGL4eqzx60W_cvoPhCcMbGb7DW3IWVg_jtJ2YTXieZRwAGRBr7xUkEU6-WuPoMMC8COACc/s320/tinadoc.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Not one to lie to my blog readers. Seeing this as a Sky produced documentary filled me with a certain dread. A niggling feeling that this overview of Tina Tuners musical career would be a rather flat, uninvolving affair. I was happy to say I am wrong.</p><p>This is a comprehensive and appealing account of one of the most electrifying black female performers of Rock and Roll. Beginning with her modest, church-going beginnings and her breakthrough RnB success with her abusive musician Ike, to her astonishing pop music comeback decades later. This film is a perfect introduction to the queen of Rock and Roll for the uninitiated.</p><p>One would find it hard to believe that the likes of Beyoncé were not more than a little influenced by Turners headstrong shimmying and powerful vocals. The archive footage that is shown is certainly infectious. However, this documentary, possibly at the subject’s own trepidation, cannot really do the passion without the pain. While all the elements within Tina were agreed to by the singer, the films most telling, and distressing moments are the affirmation of how trauma recurs and routinely inflicts its pain. The media near-obsessive desire to connect her career with her ex-husband is a chilling reminder of how the media machine situates its lens.</p><p>However, Turner’s dignity and professionalism not only outlay her as a performer, but it is also among the highlights of the film itself. Watching her desire to perform, along with her decorum throughout the low points of her career, it’s difficult to think of any modern-day performers who will hold as much grace in a career as long.</p><p><br /></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-27936151579593074502021-02-20T15:55:00.001+00:002021-02-26T16:10:43.950+00:00 Article: Glasgow Film Festival – Findings - Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7dd7554BYVtsm3lDO3Xj_z-nWT8F06jy3yLYROQAsPEawNmjg2_A_MgXtvk6G3F4F8C5fH_Q7uEC5b6qs9EqKyZSWGe0OaXzpmFpk990MJd2u2Y4BXgjsoxjdlPVZFzlXV5K40xNR_w/s1200/GFF-Branded-Header.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7dd7554BYVtsm3lDO3Xj_z-nWT8F06jy3yLYROQAsPEawNmjg2_A_MgXtvk6G3F4F8C5fH_Q7uEC5b6qs9EqKyZSWGe0OaXzpmFpk990MJd2u2Y4BXgjsoxjdlPVZFzlXV5K40xNR_w/s320/GFF-Branded-Header.png" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>With many parts of the world still in the grip of the pandemic, Film Festivals have been forced to reconsider how they function as a main cog in the industry. The focus is now heavily based on streamed screeners and zoom interviews as the main approach. Something that festivals were aiming towards for a small while anyway. However, the acceleration of this possible new normal has allowed a broadening of scope which perhaps had not been tapped into in previous years.</p><p>With Glasgow film festival having to adapt to the situation at hand, it has allowed the likes of myself – unable to travel up to bonnie Scotland – to be able to take part in the proceedings in a way that I would have perhaps been able to before. If the new adaptation is adopted and improved upon even further, the fact that we may be able to see a flourishing of diverse opinion provides a profoundly optimistic outlook to the world of cinema and film writing. One hopes that when COVID-19 is no longer a mainstay of our news and lives, such broadening of horizons remains with us.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>The Toll:</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8jEJAzt5FRJFUzQ1kEr9YTVGGuuHrN5Ce2kjSqN3f2XrX3_Dyu8Bqt0uhkZwX9Ktn_D_70O8ApmzVf2Ibhy5460igXStSIJ0vPQekN8YT7sYwaSmREakZu8VOTu0qVVcwb_ycWyA11U/s576/toll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="576" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8jEJAzt5FRJFUzQ1kEr9YTVGGuuHrN5Ce2kjSqN3f2XrX3_Dyu8Bqt0uhkZwX9Ktn_D_70O8ApmzVf2Ibhy5460igXStSIJ0vPQekN8YT7sYwaSmREakZu8VOTu0qVVcwb_ycWyA11U/s320/toll.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Set entirely in the sparse but photogenic Pembrokeshire countryside, The Toll casts Michael Smiley as the quiet yet sinister Tollbooth operator whose shady secret from his previous life sparks a whole manner of chaos in a remote Welsh town. Ryan Andrew Hooper’s loads his debut feature with a hefty amount of local colour and oddball characters. The film’s cast is filled with solid character actors that help deflect the purposely fractured storytelling, which may or may not convince viewers. However, the main strength of the film lies in the wryly comic observations on topics such as teen criminals asking for Instagram engagement and English ex-pats claiming Wales for themselves. British cinema could do worse than have a few more attempts at what this Welsh Western is trying.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Minari:</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqk-hLebc3q0Xf0LuDK6gdpESFOOVWSFe3AmDPSDdMItI9-Lkhex8ypq5aqJ-ebaUtjpLVUqxvVUCBUsXkQMNXP-Bink8p0gFTov6oiNdZqOgFtZ2B8q9guB9jVFPAYM1R9AycEW5Eec/s1000/minari.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqk-hLebc3q0Xf0LuDK6gdpESFOOVWSFe3AmDPSDdMItI9-Lkhex8ypq5aqJ-ebaUtjpLVUqxvVUCBUsXkQMNXP-Bink8p0gFTov6oiNdZqOgFtZ2B8q9guB9jVFPAYM1R9AycEW5Eec/s320/minari.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>While we may only be in the second month of the year at the time of writing, I would not be surprised if Minari stays high up in my list of favourite films of the year. Lee Isaac Chung’s tender drama takes place in rural Arkansas in the 1980s following a Korean American family moving from California to a remote plot of land, to grow Far Eastern produce for immigrant vendors. With its naturalistic cinematography and warm performances, the film is quietly disarming in nearly every scene.</p><p>Semi-autobiographical in nature, Chung’s film eschews the kind of typical racial conflict which one could have expected from such a film. Instead, Minari is more interested in the frayed family tensions that come from Steven Yeun’s Jacob overwhelming desire to make his way through the American dream. The film is not overtly plotted and does not have to be to deliver its emotional gut punches. A film that delivers a strong wind with butterfly wings.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Undergods:</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikuv6wRSgooqCW5rbhUiQjLMLjvtEfaq_hjDoWWyldTCLZPBNIAxVoN5IRNTo2GSIquVmavBrehGe3-1UoTrQDc3YKLSf0sHyJqG39o8lp3l0sDh4qqNXg0-IERot7gUnEQu4X1jbrAYQ/s1600/ug+gff.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikuv6wRSgooqCW5rbhUiQjLMLjvtEfaq_hjDoWWyldTCLZPBNIAxVoN5IRNTo2GSIquVmavBrehGe3-1UoTrQDc3YKLSf0sHyJqG39o8lp3l0sDh4qqNXg0-IERot7gUnEQu4X1jbrAYQ/s320/ug+gff.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>A myriad of interconnecting stories which meld within one another, the Estonian filmed Undergods is an eyeball hijacker from a production design standpoint. The stark, dilapidated landscapes perfectly capture the nature of this anthology of dour tales which centre around broken family values, mistrust, and isolation. Spanish director Chino Moya starts proceedings well. Opening with a snappy, spiteful story of a splintered relationship being suspiciously invaded by a too-friendly neighbour. </p><p>However, the film becomes a bit too self-absorbed in its bleakness to be fully invested. The film falls down rabbit holes, telling stories within stories and punctuates itself with moments of dark violence. But by the time Kate Dickie starts wildly dancing to Conway Twitty’s Lonely Blue Boy, Undergods steers into David Lynch territory, but with none of the engagement. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-22193044859794055722021-02-13T16:47:00.001+00:002021-02-13T16:47:09.612+00:00Review: Paradise Cove<p> Year: 2021</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Director: Martin Guigui<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Screenplay: Sherry Klein<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Starring: Todd Grinnell, Mena Suvari, Kristin Bauer van
Straten<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Synopsis is <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt9690790/plotsummary?ref_=tt_stry_pl">here:</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Every so often, a movie will have me thinking about Pauline
Kael’s seminal essay about appreciating great trash. Watching Paradise Cove,
always makes me wonder what she would think of a film like this or the many
similar features like it. These off the beaten track thrillers which love to
highlight their gaudy wares at the expense of logical plot.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is the sort of Yuppies-in-hell type of movie that does
not seem to be much of. Inequality is through the roof. People buy homes less
to live but to profit from. Late-stage capitalism has left many in despair. It
is the perfect time to update Pacific Heights (1990). Paradise Cove holds none
of the financial muscle of John Schlesinger’s movie, but it should not need to.
What Paradise Cove has going for it is relevancy. Its dog-eat-dog story brings
a certain amount of connectivity to an audience. To have such a topic thrown
into such an over-the-top thriller is usually enjoyable.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That said, Paradise Cove is seriously lacking in the type of
craftsmanship which could turn it into an enjoyable pulp smothered tale. It is
a film which lacks the guts or coherence to be as interesting as it could have
been. Hampered by poor pacing, cardboard flat performances, and a patchy
narrative which needed to be tidied up in the pre-production stage it is a film
which far too happily enjoys its contrivance. Better films can often have its
audience asking the same questions that one may do here. But Paradise Cove is
deficient in having the ability to distract its audience. It would perhaps be
beneficial if the film had characters who worth investing in.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Watching a young couple being terrorised by a disturbed,
homeless women could be an intriguing premise if the screenplay cared about any
of the people at play. However, Paradise Cove is a place where every person is
annoyingly uncompelling and profoundly unsympathetic. A couple who seems
uninterested in the memories within the house they cannot wait to flip. They go
up against a middle-aged vagrant, whose tragic backstory never feels strong
enough to tolerate her causal slip into needless violence. The film’s habit of
playing fast and loose with plot strands, along with some tone-deaf
characterisation ensures that none of these characters provides empathy.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The annoying thing is when you have the likes of Mena Suvari
in the casting roster, you should allow her to be more than a shrill,
hysterical wife. It is a role with no agency or sympathy and some of the most
egregious pieces of dialogue. So much of what this character says makes
whatever plight this couple may have unappealing. Kristin Bauer van Straten has
a better time with things. Her performance as a jilted housewife is at one
which knows what type of movie this could have been.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately, this is not about what the film could have
been, but what the film is. Folks like me may get a kick out of the unintentionally
humorous set pieces and plot points that seemingly go nowhere (that shower
sequence does what for the film exactly?). However, for those who are looking
for a thriller with more…well thrill, it may be worth heading elsewhere.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-44056566444736325382021-01-17T17:49:00.000+00:002021-01-17T17:49:00.926+00:00Article: Giving The Shunt a Punt <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi86GQUFsAxUae1FnDMSbUuybR0Y6fnCd0rwBWNyKHMKc7EFX7_znZZLwLEZ2O14FrGvljKa5DyLqSnaOT_cpzA_N6nKiA-iJ-_zRvsUGNxieOHlITMip99t4NAXnOoeXeVTxTZnM2E5-g/s550/society.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi86GQUFsAxUae1FnDMSbUuybR0Y6fnCd0rwBWNyKHMKc7EFX7_znZZLwLEZ2O14FrGvljKa5DyLqSnaOT_cpzA_N6nKiA-iJ-_zRvsUGNxieOHlITMip99t4NAXnOoeXeVTxTZnM2E5-g/s320/society.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">During this pandemic, the wish of many has been revisiting
films which bring about comfort and losing oneself in safety. I, however, found
myself routinely absorbed in more disconcerting material. I have gone back to
reading Pet Semetery and re-watching warped texts such as Society. Escaping the
bleak into the realms of cheerful escapism does not make it go away. Staring at
the abyss may not bring warmth but it has helped me push away that sense of
complacency which can arrive in the face of uncertainty.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Society deals with one teenager’s deep pit of uncertainty.
Billy is unsure of his parents. On the face of things, in the eyes of those
without certain privileges, it is difficult to see why. Growing up amongst
Beverly Hill’s upper class, Billy’s increasing worries over his parents and
sister should come across as the kind of growing pains one expects to face if
your hill has one tree, or your creek has a Dawson in it. Billy’s fears deepen
as he slowly uncovers indications that suggest his family are not what they may
seem. As a horror film, it is best to keep quiet on the gory secrets, however,
Bill soon learns the price of privilege can cost more than an arm and or a leg.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh484batSphileR3JUaFMnmmd0WoO22SMSvxKa0nyg9o9HOrNmKoinbRcacUcQwYohFWTXZzu5bADyDCjQ0x4GA-63HPo1TUQHZj1-S2B-Do5iNdK6LsIhAKg9mAfcMb2-ezNAwn7Y2lAQ/s369/society2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="204" data-original-width="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh484batSphileR3JUaFMnmmd0WoO22SMSvxKa0nyg9o9HOrNmKoinbRcacUcQwYohFWTXZzu5bADyDCjQ0x4GA-63HPo1TUQHZj1-S2B-Do5iNdK6LsIhAKg9mAfcMb2-ezNAwn7Y2lAQ/s320/society2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">There is a somewhat twisted pleasure in watching Brian
Yuzna’s cinematic attack on the ruling classes. Even now 32 years on, as a
sickly satirical horror film Society is still notable for slapping its social
commentary right in the face of those who watch it without a hint of subtly.
The rich are different from you and me. They see the world almost as if they
are a different species. By the much-commented end of the film, we find how
just how different they are. This is a film with no room for subtext.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is easy to dismiss society as a film because a lot of the
film's runtime would not look out of place in a bland 80's teen romp. The film
has so much wrapped up in its outrageous climax that the rest of the film can
feel off. A little forgettable. Save for some of the other more absurd visuals
and hints which keep prodding us to the grand reveal. Charlie Lyne <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/jun/13/society-greatest-cinematic-finale">writes </a>about
the film’s ending as an extraordinary yet laments the films first hour as
tedious. An unfortunate response as while the film’s opening hour rolls at a
deliberate pace, it is peppered with crude and surreal clues. Contorted spines are
witnessed through shower screens. Bodies disappear and are quickly covered up.
The impassive reaction to the death of a school colleague by Bill’s parents is
ominous, made bleaker in watching the current events at the time of writing in
which a global pandemic has had politicians and talking heads make blasé
comments about fatality percentages. Often because of their desire to kick
start the economy. But Society is also a film about building to a crescendo.
Its finale is a fountain of viscera, yet it means nothing without the build-up.
The reaction to the apparent death of Blanchard is grim. His actual demise is a
fate worse than death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXYKKqCvybwE2MziDTCEitNH5pllEgLhYG3BoVK4RpsdB-1GbKf3RehYgACNywhAGA1wQnqe8wp-Bm1vqUAEXG1kBA23k116V5Znf7A-rUqNF16kF6sAxXUst520YbDtiXnf7OrC_Q1NQ/s1920/society4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXYKKqCvybwE2MziDTCEitNH5pllEgLhYG3BoVK4RpsdB-1GbKf3RehYgACNywhAGA1wQnqe8wp-Bm1vqUAEXG1kBA23k116V5Znf7A-rUqNF16kF6sAxXUst520YbDtiXnf7OrC_Q1NQ/s320/society4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">At the time of writing this global pandemic has highlighted
how labour outside the ruling classes has kept our current system
functioning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elsewhere people have
weighed up the economy in comparison to the health of others. Placing terms
such as underlying conditions under disturbingly vague terms. Only recently
Conservative MP Esther McVey made <a href="https://nation.cymru/news/tory-mp-slammed-for-tolerable-level-of-covid-deaths-comments/">comments </a>regarding “tolerable levels of
death".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Referenced in comparison to
costs in a way which would fit snugly into a rough draft of Dr Strangelove
(1962). Such statements are stated with conviction to express seriousness, yet
the blasé nature of such remarks come to be quite unpleasant when you consider
the commenter to appear disengaged from the reality of the words. Something
often stated about the comfortable class. The indifferent <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/esther-mcvey-dwp-benefits-welfare-stance-comments-controversial-a8149811.html">way</a> those who do not
worry look upon those that do. Something that Society enjoys toying within the
most sweaty, gruelling way. Fuel for pleasure.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Society is so memorable because the metaphor is so blunt and
yet so remarkably pure. Horror films are often great features to craft
social-political subtext within them. Brian Yuzna does away with any idea of
subtlety. Recent current affairs only seem to make the film more potent. Ryan
Lambie <a href="https://www.denofgeek.com/movies/society-celebrating-the-subversive-surreal-classic/">notes</a> in Den of Geek that the film’s title song is the Eton Boating
Song. A piece of music associated with Eton College. A university is known for
not only known for its elite standing, but also for the fact that both ex-Prime
Minister David Cameron and current leader Boris Johnson were both educated
there. Kieran Fisher <a href="https://filmschoolrejects.com/society/">remarks</a> the dubious <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/us-politics/donald-trump-ivanka-trump-creepiest-most-unsettling-comments-roundup-a7353876.html">statements</a> made by America's 45th President,
Donald Trump about his daughter. They unwittingly mirror the incestuous nature
of Bill’s parents towards their female offspring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Conversations over the one percent have been drawn into
sharp focus in recent times. Billionaires made serious bank during a time of
great trauma for many areas of the working class and a film like Society is not
the first film to highlight the riches ability to feed off the lesser
advantaged. But within the purity of the film’s message lies its relevancy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Reaching comparisons aside, in the film’s text, the rich are
just rich. You do not need knowledge of the Eton Boating Song. There are no
party-political lines drawn, yet the incestuous aspect of the film brings
around the feeling that it does not matter whose president or which party
leads. Those who have can dominate those who have not. Despite more recent
comparisons being made in this piece, the film still leans to the
anti-materialistic cult films of its decade. Paired with John Carpenter’s They
Live (1986) both make a potent double bill about the rich v poor era they
inhabit. One of the most unsettling aspects lies in their protagonists
discovering the hideous plot by the ruling powers, only to have their journey
end in partial disruption, not completion. Both film’s climax with the secret
world revealed, but not quelled. The film gives us a basic resolution to the
plot but never imparts full closure.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The opening third features scenes which seem to imply that
Billy paranoia is not false but has been blindsided by materialistic culture.
His sister maybe favoured but he gets the flash jeep. There is an element of
being bought into the culture. The film still resonates due to that point of
view being still quite deep-seated in the current culture. As the western world
glorifies billionaires while demonising lower-wage workers on social media
platforms, ignoring the manipulation of labour which has allowed such an uneven
balance between the rich and poor, Society still holds a sense of potency. We
all have smartphones. We blast off whatever opinion about those we deem lesser
than ourselves while those in the upper echelons feed off the exploitation. In
Society, the antagonists of the film have been with us forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still feeding and shunting. In the present,
dark humour exists. Watching the space race between the Musks and Bezos’ of the
world, it is as if we have modern-day shunters. Seeking a way back home after a
long feed.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkgtx66GIIXiXpnsENzu_K6lQ9JYSQa36-jVdIwuqDm81rK18u0kuvrOFHSfzD27_WLa_VYUD8gQjeAbHSArYzgvFJhEHIGR9wNlj29zxN8K0kzJrqY-NI9GXQBEnvAz4aF36riQ4eZV0/s300/society3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkgtx66GIIXiXpnsENzu_K6lQ9JYSQa36-jVdIwuqDm81rK18u0kuvrOFHSfzD27_WLa_VYUD8gQjeAbHSArYzgvFJhEHIGR9wNlj29zxN8K0kzJrqY-NI9GXQBEnvAz4aF36riQ4eZV0/s0/society3.jpg" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">Do we need more films that play in the same satirical
playbox as Society? I feel we have them. Both Jordan Peele’s <a href="https://afrofilmviewer.blogspot.com/2017/03/review-get-out.html">Get Out</a> (2017) and
US (2019) load themselves with similar sinister underpinnings. The death cult
which inhabits The Invitation (2015) may not be as macabre in its dealings or
as blatant with its targets, yet the film harbours elements of bizarre cult
ritual which work well with Society as a double bill of the west of America
losing its mind. One does hope budding filmmakers go back to films like Society
and take notes. From its modest openings of late 80s cheese to its perverse
ending. A finish which must be seen to be believed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Society is a cult film for a reason. It is
doubtful that a consensus will be willing to give the Shunt a punt. However, in
a pandemic like which with the ongoing discourse of current events being what
they are, it is quite possibly one of the perfect times to watch such a film.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Society is available on Blu-Ray</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Like what you read? I'd love some support. Buy me a <a href="https://ko-fi.com/afrofilmviewer">Ko-fi</a>.</i></span></p>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-76803444146440959312020-06-25T01:17:00.002+01:002020-06-30T09:46:21.223+01:00Article: I wanna be adored. – Looking Back at The Rules of Attraction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9suxkXwwzRfRKh4W5_gAsUJvtPmIWi2ZXahYVpgiNQvcdnb0kFBrhdLowL3Uzdlj6-m8LSDsRFcG8XfudiAEjZIl080o-HF-igw5ImIhZ5-hVb_HaFpygAsp94MD33rd0g3TxHC2LTic/s1800/TheRulesOfAttraction_onesheet_advance_International-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><font face="inherit"><img border="0" data-original-height="1295" data-original-width="1800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9suxkXwwzRfRKh4W5_gAsUJvtPmIWi2ZXahYVpgiNQvcdnb0kFBrhdLowL3Uzdlj6-m8LSDsRFcG8XfudiAEjZIl080o-HF-igw5ImIhZ5-hVb_HaFpygAsp94MD33rd0g3TxHC2LTic/s320/TheRulesOfAttraction_onesheet_advance_International-3.jpg" width="320" /></font></a></div><font face="inherit"><br />
</font><p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit"><o:p> </o:p>…and it starts and finishes in mid-sentence. Just like the
book. Echoing some of that stylistic ego of its author Bret Easton Ellis. I’m
sure many can sense that kind of edgy pretension that one can feel from Ellis’
work. But starting in medias res but by mimicking the book in the way he does
from the very beginning; director Roger Avery primes the chaotic nature The
Rules of Attraction. Giving us a sense that the corrupt nature of these spoilt
brats never truly ends. The final lines of Ellis’ most well-known book;
American Psycho take on solid form. THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.</font></p><p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit"><o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">“From the corrupt minds that brought you American Psycho and
Pulp Fiction”, the marketing screamed. With its teddy fornication poster, to
its Clockwork Orange (1971) riffing teaser spot, Roger Avery’s adaptation of
The Rules of Attraction knew exactly what it was selling. Although the hubbub
wasn’t as loud as what we often see from mainstream movies now, the outcome was
so very similar. The film split critics but captured a glut of the audience
that went to see it. Consensus scores are not the best way to evaluate a film’s
success, but I always remember how distinct the viewpoints were between the
film’s lowly Rotten Tomatoes score (now at a Rotten 43%) and the higher-rated
Imdb score (at time of release it was in the 7.0 range out of 10, it’s now at
the still decent 6.9). The A.V Club <a href=" https://www.avclub.com/the-new-cult-canon-the-rules-of-attraction-1798213892" target="_blank">listed</a> the film in its New Cult Section. Roger Ebert
<a href="https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/the-rules-of-attraction-2002" target="_blank">felt </a>an indifference for the film's characters and hoped they get better. When I
first saw it on it’s UK theatrical release in 2003, I fell for it in a way I
never really did with American Psycho, although that has changed over the
years. My best friend who I watched the film with, walked out at a notable
sequence. It’s that kind of film. <o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">At the time of writing this film adaptation of Rules is 17
years old. In America, it is almost reached the lawful age of sexual maturity,
yet the ramblings of the current culture wars still reek of this debauched
little number. It’s no surprise that Bret Easton Ellis claimed that the film
adaptation is the closest anyone had got to capturing his novel universes. Mary
Harron smartly undercuts so much of American Psycho (2000). Capturing the
shallowness of its era as well as the ugliness of the toxic masculinity of the
time. Roger Avery goes all for leather in Rules. He gives us little respite.
Attractive youngsters being entirely unattractive in a way only young people
can. Controlled, nee overwhelmed by the id, wading rudderless in a sea of
hollow depravity. But while many college/coming of age movies, leave its
characters – and audience – with life lessons. Rules simply does not give a
damn. Avery himself allegedly stated that the film is the assassination of teen
comedies. Rules lumps us with people with no need to be depressed glaring
glassy-eyed at the world as if it were a hopeless void. No life lessons here.
Detention in purgatory. Simply said: Fuck Maturity.</font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">Three kids attending a liberal arts college fall into what
can only be considered as a love triangle of misconception. Sean Bateman
(brother of American Psycho’s Patrick) keeps receiving glittery post from an
unknown recipient in the mail. To Sean, this is a slight distraction from the
borrowed drug money he owes from a couple of townie tweakers. Sean believes the
notes are from his classmate Lauren, a cynical woman who pines for her beau,
Victor, who is currently travelling Europe. Lauren is a virgin and starves off
any urges to cavort with any of the campus boys by reading a rather large
medical book of venereal diseases. Lauren’s dedication to Victor is strong but
there are hints that she may have an interest in Sean. Lauren used to date
Paul; a bisexual man whose attraction to Sean is set off by a misheard
exchanged between the two. The film is less of a conventional plot as opposed
to a series of loose vignettes. Much like American Psycho, the characters are
driven by their base urges, so much so they often neglect their
misunderstandings. So far so college am I right?<o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">The film's disjointed plotting must have been something of a
comfort to director Roger Avery. The other screenwriter of Pulp Fiction (1994)
is once again swimming in a world of time-hopping narratives. As stated by the
director, the jumps from point to point and hollow relationships between the
characters were done so to resemble people's splintered memories of college.
But was also a chance for him to direct another film with flashy flourishes and
nihilistic themes. Avery’s first feature-length film; Killing Zoe, was labelled
by Roger Ebert as Generation X’s first heist caper and is executed as such. A
film in which characters are surrounded by the colour red and they delve deeper
into the bowels of the bank they’ve decided to Rob. Avery also uses Otto Nemenz
Swing & Tilt lenses to create the distorted feeling of being on heroin
midway through the film. Rules is a mutation of this. While Killing Zoe has Eric
Stolz’s Zed character holding the ability to ensure of earth-shattering orgasms
to sex workers that he meets within minutes of sleeping them, Rules plays on
the idea that these kids obtain absolutely no joy from their carnal pursuits or
anything else for that matter.</font></p><p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit"><o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">Avery captures the novel's stream of consciousness with a
variety of self-involved narration from a variety of characters. A handy way of
capturing the distorted leaps in transition that occur in Ellis' book. There is
also the splintering of the narrative in a way that candidly reminds you that
this corrupt mind enjoyed teasing structure with Mr. Tarantino. The film
punctuates acts through parties and leaps through seasons with little desire to
notify the viewer, distorting the sense of time. Both the leaps and narration
not only provide an insular feeling but give a sense that these characters have
harboured these lustful misunderstanding for longer than they care to
admit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></font></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><font face="inherit"><br /></font></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fGZJ2Iyg-CCGUFcK-7vx8AX4nu4jeSaKKqeI8YSEs4FmRpBB7l6BpWzTYlsK4kuDMW-WkYGx25howJHlOESdMvf0C-cCgvNmpbVU2QmXNHR-p_63_p16MUlze5zBg_l13g7K2u_iTLM/s1265/rulessplit.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><font face="inherit"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="1265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fGZJ2Iyg-CCGUFcK-7vx8AX4nu4jeSaKKqeI8YSEs4FmRpBB7l6BpWzTYlsK4kuDMW-WkYGx25howJHlOESdMvf0C-cCgvNmpbVU2QmXNHR-p_63_p16MUlze5zBg_l13g7K2u_iTLM/s320/rulessplit.png" width="320" /></font></a></div><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><font face="inherit"><br /></font></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">The use of split-screen finds itself being used in a small
dorm room scene in which we’re provided with what looks to be a fantasy and a
reality. Paul invites Sean to his room for some pot. The screen splits in two
as we see Paul and Sean kiss and initiate sex (perhaps an eye-opening moment
for young Dawson Creek fans). The other half of the screen has Paul
masturbating in the same instance. Perhaps to the thought of what’s happening
in the former half. It looks to be a rather straightforward dream sequence yet actually becomes more interesting for fans of the book. In the book, Paul holds
comprehensively described accounts of himself and Sean being sexual partners.
In Sean’s accounts, these encounters are absent. This allows both accounts to
be ambiguous and contradictory. Avery’s use of the split-screen allows that
ambiguity into the relationship if only for a second. Either Paul is pursuing
and fantasising over a straight guy. Something we have already seen him do
earlier in the film, or he’s having a difficult intimate relationship with a
closeted bi guy who by all accounts, wants to keep it that way. It’s easy to
find the moment to be cut and dry, however having read the book, I personally
enjoy the idea that Avery appears to be giving the fans a hefty nod to the duo’s vague
relationship. <o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">The film’s biggest trick lies in the middle of the film. A
five-minute, split-screen meet-cute in which Sean and Lauren encounter each
other in a class they share. A flashy sequence, but not one without substance.
In The Sundance Anatomy of a Scene series, Avery details that he wanted to
visually illustrate connection within a world of disconnection. Admittedly
borrowing film language from Douglas Sirk; who used the frame to unify and
divide characters within the frame. Avery uses the split to depicts the
differing routines of the two students before melding into a singular moment.
It’s a sequence so playful and in line with what one would typically expect from
a sweeter college comedy, it feels like it’s been lifted from an entirely
different film. This moment pertains to be the film's emotional centre. Sean
and Lauren seldom share a scene together. The scene plays up the dissimilarity
between the two characters. But the removal of Sean sunglasses by Lauren
provides a spark of connection. Initiating a small, elusive moment of
association in a film that enjoys disrupting connection at every turn. It’s
also the rise before the fall.<o:p></o:p></font></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnLpr8_XP5FwQAeG-P1-2IjnbqHUavw2dO53OQIWs-RUIj4AQAhmb5vXZf5xcxVDTOwbc0Bl_RoLcCw57j0cpjC2efqtsAuONA7X7jVtjcv4dfjyWbkAx0UI5ypnoI_eGGbPS0etxFnc/s1280/rulessean.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><font face="inherit"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnLpr8_XP5FwQAeG-P1-2IjnbqHUavw2dO53OQIWs-RUIj4AQAhmb5vXZf5xcxVDTOwbc0Bl_RoLcCw57j0cpjC2efqtsAuONA7X7jVtjcv4dfjyWbkAx0UI5ypnoI_eGGbPS0etxFnc/s320/rulessean.png" width="320" /></font></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">For a film full of stylistic tricks such as the split
screens or whole sequences where time moves backward you still need cast the
right good-looking people to make all the ugly antics click. Rules is a film
known for its stylistic traits but also features career-high performances from
many of the people involved. Let us not mistake dead-eyed and disaffected for
flat. Whether it’s James Van Der Beeks glazed Kubrickian stare or the way
Shannyn Sossamon holds a cigarette in a manner that screams “sardonic swagger”.
Each performance seems to grab hold of the film’s energy. Van Der Beek
especially thrives in the film. Rules was released with the young actor having
one last year has the so-called eternal optimist that was Dawson Leery. Sean
Bateman gives Van der Beek the type of role that could break the shackles of
the sweetheart character that made him known. Van der Beek holds a similarity
to Ryan Phillipe. Both seemed more well known as late 90’s heartthrobs, here,
much like Phillipe in Cruel Intentions (1999), both equally known their way
around sleazy and corrupt slimeballs. One of Van der Beek’s best moments lies
in the split-screen sequence. The small moment when Sossamon’s Lauren removes
his sunglasses and that small flicker of emotion is glimpsed. It’s an earnest
moment only bested by Sossamon’s tiny giggle moments later. Sossamon, who
looked fast-tracked to be a major star after a formidable run of mainstream
hits also hits her stride in this movie as a Daria Art School Dream Girl. It’s
easy to see why a college kid (especially Sean) would fall for her. That air of
devil may care attitude. The hint of being unattainable to anyone but Victor,
yet the films playing with form as already highlighted a pain that is already
made its mark. Ian Somerhalder may now enjoy a tv career of cavorting with the
undead, but his naïve and catty bi-guy performance mines a lot of the more
“approachable” humour. If you can call it that.<o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">Credit should also go the film’s secret gem Theresa Wayman.
Shannyn Sossamon’s actual roommate at the time. Her small yet pivotal role is
wordless yet harbours all the feelings that the other character pretends to
have. Wayman’s major scene still holds an unbelievable amount of potency.
Mostly due to the combination of Wayman’s eyes wincing at the pain, and the
distortion that takes hold of the musical score. Even now this moment, the
hidden heart of the film, brings around destabilising feelings. The BBFC has
since cut the “bathtub” sequence for home screenings due to a technique that is
used. When I first watched it at the cinema in 2003 with a friend as stated previously, he
immediately left his seat after this scene. Returning 10 minutes later. Understandable.<o:p></o:p></font></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5UfYgDmIUsi01JMqBpC_-y25b2eAmxw9PdPH3hzq5nLO8xEJHCWwMMtiyGyAH_gzWYUEXWF58w0RzmRpIvC_hRFNMC9uhq5EsylXtUxti50xTso4MpJ7hpZIVDM8eWVNfGrgxJkztug/s600/ruleseruope.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><font face="inherit"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5UfYgDmIUsi01JMqBpC_-y25b2eAmxw9PdPH3hzq5nLO8xEJHCWwMMtiyGyAH_gzWYUEXWF58w0RzmRpIvC_hRFNMC9uhq5EsylXtUxti50xTso4MpJ7hpZIVDM8eWVNfGrgxJkztug/s320/ruleseruope.jpg" width="320" /></font></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">And yet an unforgettable moment is completely lost on many
of the vapid characters. This is enforced when the film introduces us yet
another tactless character during the film's third act. The introduction of
Lauren’s beau Victor (Kip Pardue) is perhaps the most loved sequence of the
movie. Possibly because it is the most flashy and inimitable sequence of the
film. A rapid 4-minute hedonistic headrush, in which Pardue’s character leaps
from city to city in Europe in a cornucopia of base indulgence. The sequence
when isolated is an amusing four-minute short. However, when fitted into the
film it brings around a larger point of how all this indulgence is without
feeling. A young man with the means to travel Europe, notes his meaningless
sexual deviances longer than any of the landmarks and experiences he breezes
by. All the while his girlfriend pines for him, despite possibly wanting to
feed her needs with someone else. It all becomes swings and roundabouts as
everyone involved becomes entangled in their unrequited lusts. These people
pine for connection and yet yearn for lust. <o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">I find that I tend to lean into certain youthful black
comedies and The Rules of Attraction is no different. I wonder if it is because
we are moving further into a culture in which people bicker even more about
what is politically correct. Ellis' book and in turn Avery’s film capture a
dark psychosis which would perhaps be more lost on a more “sensitive” movie. As
I loved the film from the time it was released to now, a part of me wonders if
there is sometimes a bit of honesty in the vacuous. Avery detailed that there
was a generational dissonance between critics and fans of the film and that if
you have never met the type of characters in Rules of Attraction then how could
you relate? I am inclined to agree with this. The American Pies of the world
sell you the lie. <o:p></o:p></font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="inherit">That said. One thing about that meet-cute moment I still
really love is that the class they missed was on the Post-modern condition. A
quick google shows that there was a good chance they had read up on
Jean-François Lyotard, who argued the notion of knowledge in postmodern society
as the end of 'grand narratives'. I find that funny to see that in a film in
which the plot has no real beginning or a true sense of...</font></p><font face="inherit"><br /></font><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-28287824454679955302020-05-21T00:01:00.016+01:002020-05-21T00:16:47.447+01:00Article: All Hail the Cinema Bastard<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>It is said that audiences love a good villain and when looking through the annals of cinema it isn't hard to dig up a Darth Vader here or an Ursula there. The appeal lies in their charm. That swagger. Confidence. With good villains, it's hard not to sympathise, but never surprising if we empathise. I for one was not surprised by the Thanos is right truthers. He tells his tale convincingly. Great stories have antagonists as compelling as their heroes.</div><div><br /></div><div>This piece isn't about that. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCs0Gizf2Ui0t4rLP3iVRNsnwUz-Dfpz0fe_5Fli2c38WJe-H5AQPULUtS2Ls7SQb_zGZ-ACoeSrgZqS3U9qPFQBIFsUW26vxtkDheBzbC7wwSKeIc_24ClN9ScRR2TTzsN-lpNtgHA8Y/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="158" data-original-width="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCs0Gizf2Ui0t4rLP3iVRNsnwUz-Dfpz0fe_5Fli2c38WJe-H5AQPULUtS2Ls7SQb_zGZ-ACoeSrgZqS3U9qPFQBIFsUW26vxtkDheBzbC7wwSKeIc_24ClN9ScRR2TTzsN-lpNtgHA8Y/" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I've decided to write about the toe rag of movies. The obnoxious, self-serving clowns who are not the villains of the story, yet they're certainly not the heroes. The Richard Hammond of the seventh art. The Cinema Bastard.</div><div><br /></div><div>Usually a melding of a well-horned screenplay and a brilliant character actor, the cinema bastard is the stock character of legend. An underrated individual who can really make a film. The bureaucratic gatekeeper, the smug sleazebag. He will never be the true villain but is happy to cosy up to him as his hype man. If you are thinking of a right-hand man like Oddjob or the muscle-bound, metal-mouthed Jaws then you're mistaken. Those guys can handle themselves against Bond in their own right. They are worthy foes. Boris from GoldenEye, on the other hand, is a cinema bastard. Arrogant, smug, and just a traitorous pain in the ass as opposed to a more accomplished, formidable ass-kicker. The Cinema Bastard will not get his hands dirty and if there is a chance to screw over the protagonist without doing so. He is all in. He is the gambling turncoat. The morally bankrupt also-ran who will sell you out to get a leg-up. The pencil pushing office dweeb who has a sudden taste for needlessly enforcing rules against our hero. Especially if a girl is involved. He is a jerk, but he is never the main boss.</div><div><br /></div><div>Do I have an example? Why of course. There are so many.</div><div><br /></div><div>Director James Cameron is one of the first names that springs to mind when we consider the Cinema Bastard. He gave us two of the best. In The Terminator (1984) we are introduced to Dr. Silberman (Earl Boen). A criminal psychologist who is an infuriating mixture of somewhat decent intentions and justifiable ignorance. He is not seen what Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) has seen, so it’s understandable that he simply marks her tale of an indestructible mental man as pure delusion. However, it is not so much that he doesn’t believe Sarah, more than the smarmy, offhanded way he denounces her claims. This, of course, comes into the forefront in Terminator 2 Judgement Day (1991) when Silberman arrogantly parades an imprisoned Connor in front of some other colleagues. Channelling his inner Dr. Phil with haughty aplomb. His reaction when the T-1000 turns up is priceless.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8eqnhILb4JbUBIL6Lptm9j8NgferDTfIB38a2MsX4n595akzTfH27rbyqnpJvDfin4ggFoAPA6Z2606tyJ-3vJn5W9G6OYiG_ZYsoiqiUYsEIFkjSFmS89S354mj8kysAua4kKQZ6UM/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="667" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8eqnhILb4JbUBIL6Lptm9j8NgferDTfIB38a2MsX4n595akzTfH27rbyqnpJvDfin4ggFoAPA6Z2606tyJ-3vJn5W9G6OYiG_ZYsoiqiUYsEIFkjSFmS89S354mj8kysAua4kKQZ6UM/s320/Burke.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Cameron gives us the quintessential Cinema Bastard in Aliens (1986). Carter Burke (Paul Reiser) is the smarmy corporate lap dog. The smirking stooge who hides the insidious wants of the Weyland-Yutani corporation under his cheap suit and tie or trashy plaid shirt, beige ghillie combo. There’s good reason to think of Burke has the villain of Aliens due to his morally bankrupt actions. “Let’s release those face-huggers!” “I’m going to let you all deal with the Aliens. Let me close this door!” Proper villainous. However it’s important to remember that the aliens are the main course, Burke is still really a side dish. A heinous one, but a side dish all the same. What is important about Burke is the reason why he’s pulled such acts. All the chummy interaction he holds with Ripley. All the weaselling around the Army men. Going down to LV-426 as a “representative”. Burke is Ian Holm’s Ash muscled up from the 1979 original, but at least Ash was programmed. Burke is more than happy to skirt past the line of moral decency because…money? A corner office?</div><div><br /></div><div>Like Ellis in Die Hard (1988), Burke seems to operate on the deluded belief that he’s somewhat impervious to the chaos, for little reason other than dishonest bluster. One of the key aspects of the best cinema bastards stems from the fact that we know they’re a wrong un from the off. Villains can obtain a sense of empathy. Audience members never side with the morality vacuum that is The Cinema Bastard. Even if what they’re saying makes sense, they’re a prick about it. One of the nastiest things about Burke is the best part of Paul Reiser’s performance: The sheer blank-faced denial that he is ever in the wrong. He is a pure oily politician. Born and raised to convince and deceive. Nearly everything he says is an angle. The most disturbing thing about Burke is how easily we could image him in congress or parliament today, spewing fake news without blinking an eye. Burke would happily cause disruption and confusion in the streets of a seismic global event. If there’s a price.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CRf3W7Vtu40BJOxZ0gzcW_bu6tsmfmxfd_Ep1Qg26lciTf_oIN1qVhVBM-v2d4e8IVUlcHBDXDiANRaGQebuy6CcnsIyvl1dymazxVYtna9MDOw2cZyUIKmyxSNgxs_sW5SlE5IPUPo/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="1920" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CRf3W7Vtu40BJOxZ0gzcW_bu6tsmfmxfd_Ep1Qg26lciTf_oIN1qVhVBM-v2d4e8IVUlcHBDXDiANRaGQebuy6CcnsIyvl1dymazxVYtna9MDOw2cZyUIKmyxSNgxs_sW5SlE5IPUPo/s320/Nimziki.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Everyone has their own special Cinema Bastard. Walter Peck (William Atherton) from Ghostbusters is well loathed. My personal favourite? Resident warmonger Albert Nimzicki in a deliciously sleazy turn by James Reborn in everyone’s beloved hawkish blockbuster Independence Day. He can be summed up in two moments. Getting his way and getting President Bill Pullman to launch nukes at the volatile little grey planet destroyers who have invaded Earth being one of the major ones. As the POTUS rightly hesitates upon the action (“God have mercy on our souls”) Albert Nimzicki just leans over his shoulder and apples EVEN MORE PRESSURE on the Prez with his gentle nudge "Mr. President” he mutters as if he hasn't already doomed us all.</div><div>The nukes launch, they strike the spaceship, and Nimzicki is already polishing his brass neck way before the hit is even confirmed. That is a pure bastard. A man that's so sure of himself that he doesn't even wait to see if the ship is still there. Of course, it hasn’t made a dent. ID4 is a long-ass summer movie and the nukes occur at the midway point. But nothing is more satisfying than when this bastard gets his pink slip near the end of the films running time. For bastard watchers, that’s when the fat lady sings.</div><div> </div><div>What is it about the cinema bastard? The human face of banal evil. The bouncer who IDs you on a night out when you are clearly old enough. The retail customer who pulls demands to see the manager over a mild inconvenience. When the bastard arrives in the movie, we already know the problem and they love to pretend that they are the solution. Think Harry Ellis in Die Hard. We all love a villain, but we love to hate the cinema bastard. The contrarian asshole who wonders what's in it for me. The red-tape loving nightmare who stirs the administrative pot for the hero.</div><div><br /></div><div>That is just who they are. Mr. Status Quo. The devil's advocate for Thanos. The open-plan office arsehole whose answer needs to be heard, despite no one asking the question. There's nothing wrong with holding libertarian values if you feel that way. However, the cinematic bastard feels endeavored to tell you it's the only way to go and he’ll do it with a smug grin.</div><div><br /></div><div>The zombie sub-genre is prime real estate for the cinema bastard to move in with his awful taste in furniture. A Twitter colleague reminded me of the superb turn played by Dylan Moran as David in Shaun of the Dead (2004). The so-called pacifist whose blatant affection for Shaun's girlfriend manifests itself into a particular method of passive aggression towards Shaun before of course, he becomes lunch.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry (Karl Hardman) from Night of the Living Dead (1968) may be doing the best for his family in his eyes, but the socio-political tension that inhabits this movie, with its black lead, helps turn the claustrophobic house into a battleground. Harry does what he can to rub our hero the wrong way. Romero often stated that he wasn't trying to be political and yet considering every zombie film he did after Night, as well as that film's brutal ending, it's hard not to think that Harry would probably listen to the lead character if he shared the same skin tone.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngcA_NbIeXWYEtF6rCx2DdZrcezQif1EA58rdJHLNzWN6EPGtGnnWEOO5gVlYss3O-qm0v1FxqMPcQKJ6yhfNVHZIMKTO4GWMAMUSyNluYQNc4uuHmSNJdjYYKuWfwkbpmzoKktLZ264/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="635" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngcA_NbIeXWYEtF6rCx2DdZrcezQif1EA58rdJHLNzWN6EPGtGnnWEOO5gVlYss3O-qm0v1FxqMPcQKJ6yhfNVHZIMKTO4GWMAMUSyNluYQNc4uuHmSNJdjYYKuWfwkbpmzoKktLZ264/s320/Kibnar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Leonard Nimoy, most known for being Star Trek’s stoic logical foil behind Captain Kirk as Spock, plays self-help bastard Dr. David Kibnar in the first remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978). His new book’s out. He's the toast of the town. Always informing folk of his opinion but never listening to their words. He says things like giving people a psychological band-aid after giving them some pop psychology. If the film was made now? He would be a self-help scammer on Instagram. He would be Dr. Phil. He is the man telling everyone that nothing is wrong while the world's on fire. The smug cynic. We are never surprised when he succumbs to the alien spores. But he’s never the chief enemy. Merely an irritating distraction. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4HjmVGyG176JR_gwTRcR6qd0dtxCD_NSjLe_FJMlhUwUKfhHUETU45u5uC9ORS_6IXd8Yasz8m63QCzrDYP30_CCmQeB5RQfNz6oRawnSVjT-KzRS-1C-TUYf0eEqWIhjU-TDxNy0zE/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="632" data-original-width="1244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4HjmVGyG176JR_gwTRcR6qd0dtxCD_NSjLe_FJMlhUwUKfhHUETU45u5uC9ORS_6IXd8Yasz8m63QCzrDYP30_CCmQeB5RQfNz6oRawnSVjT-KzRS-1C-TUYf0eEqWIhjU-TDxNy0zE/s320/zara.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Zara from Jurassic World (2015) is a weak example from a franchise that gave us 1 of the 90’s best bastards in its first cinematic entry. The insidious notions of Dennis Nerdy (Wayne Knight) seem so far away in a movie marred by retrograde views on gender. Unfortunately, Jurassic World also decides to give Zara a bastard style comeuppance. The unlucky babysitter is marked as the first female on-screen death of the Jurassic Park franchise, yet her demise is highly obnoxious considering her lack of bastard level. The appeal of the Cinema Bastard lies within a film dishing out a delicious brand of its own rich creamy Moral Justice. That director Colin Trevorrow wanted to switch the script and surprise the audience is understandable. We've kind of seen it all at this point. But the jarring aspect of Zara’s death without even a level of bastardry can give off disabling effect in terms of tone. The level of assholery is so close to what we know so a cinema bastard comeuppance is a small hooray. Not here. Her death feels frivolous and senseless. An outcome with little of the weight of a true cinema bastard. It's a reminder that we go to movies for the same way Mia Farrow’s character does in Purple Rose of Cairo (1985). We love to indulge in the black and white escapism that the movies so often give us. The cinema bastard is all about getting his way and getting hoisted by his own petard.</div><div><br /></div><div>It’s the likes of Zara from Jurassic World that make us realise that we’re seeing less of this kind of this jerk of a character. This piece has referred to films of the ’60s and ’70s (The Mayor from Jaws anyone?), but it’s no surprise that the Cinema Bastards entered a rich vein of form in the ’80s and ’90s. Particularly in larger mainstream movies where you need an authoritative or administrative figure who may stand in the way of our brave protagonists, but only for so long. The cinema bastard was a great role for a solid character actor who may not have been the main draw of a movie but held a “that guy” presence that keen-eyed film fans would always appreciate. The list of actors is a long one: JT Walsh, Paul Gleason, Anthony Heald, John C. McGinley, Ronny Cox, Miguel Ferrer, James Tolkan, Colm Meany…need I go on?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWHnmWXhjfbrw2YCtYR4SFNb7K0RaSJFr9rFSyJcJS5Yml_RZ7TKZ4mEI7KWotOLM_i5hyphenhyphenao4mweLlJKXRfV315fKIYM9PL5TLYODrV2Fs8VWb-GJ6GkCCjOPbUkD6BjakYQSStDRzGc/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWHnmWXhjfbrw2YCtYR4SFNb7K0RaSJFr9rFSyJcJS5Yml_RZ7TKZ4mEI7KWotOLM_i5hyphenhyphenao4mweLlJKXRfV315fKIYM9PL5TLYODrV2Fs8VWb-GJ6GkCCjOPbUkD6BjakYQSStDRzGc/s320/auntlydia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </div><div><br /></div><div>As film tastes have changed hugely since the arrival of mega franchises and cinematic universes it does feel like there is less space to take up the cinema bastard mantle. When I tweeted about how much I missed the cinema bastard, I quickly had a thread filled with amazing jerks from so many films of my adolescent years. The Cinema Bastard has taken a step back in recent times, despite having the likes of Ben Mendelsohn (Rogue One) and Ann Dowd (Hereditary, Compliance) keeping the throne warm. The Cinema Bastard seemingly has a healthier living in the world of TV, possibly due to the time allowance a show has for it to grow. As major films place their focus squarely on spectacle, there’s little shock that we see the likes of Ann Dowd rising to the occasion in The Handmaids Tale in spite of her superlative displays in the aforementioned movie examples. For me it one of the reasons why Zara’s character and death feel so out of step in Jurassic World. The pieces all seem to be there, but they just don’t fit. It is a bit of a shame. Sometimes we need jerks.</div><div><br /></div></div><pre style="text-align: left;"><br /></pre>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-57940083337818879802020-05-05T23:46:00.002+01:002020-05-05T23:52:29.816+01:00Article: Looking back at City of God<br />
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Despite my recent viewing being an
umpteenth watch of City of God, my reaction is still the same. From the opening
credits to the final moments, I was pulled back to when I used to work at my
local cinema and I dragged my friends and co-workers to see a Brazilian
Gangster coming of age film that they have never heard of. I saw a five-star
review of the film in the now-defunct Hotdog magazine. To this day the best
film magazine, I had the pleasure of reading. The magazine hyped the film as a
Brazilian Goodfellas (1990), which was enough for me to lure my pals into the
feature. As the “film guy” of the group, they never truly trusted my opinion on
movies. They still don’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The film guy came good in this
case. We all left the film rocked by what we just saw. Not just due to being
the perfect age (18) to be blown away by a gritty, gun-toting journey into the
favelas of Brazil. Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund’s piece is an astonishing
piece of filmmaking. The Goodfellas comparisons from critics were clear and understandable,
but the film’s signifiers came from a different place. They bought a new and
eclectic vibrancy to proceedings. The way the film exploded on to the screen
was simply something else. Watching the film now, it still hums with
energy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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A Docufiction adapted from Paulo
Lins’ 1997 novel of the same film, the film throws its viewers into an
intertangled mesh of organised crime beginning in the late sixties and
continuing throughout the seventies. We’re guided through the film’s narrative
by Rocket (Alexandre Rodrigues), as he navigates his way around the drug wars
which inhabit the Cidade De Deus suburb where he lives. The film wouldn’t feel
too out of place with the criminal coming of age films of Made in Britain
(1982), Scum (1979), or Neds (2010). However, while the mentioned films have
moments equally as shocking in their way, none have the same vibrancy that
takes place here. It’s a film that truly illuminates, not only shedding light
on the unlawful activity of Brazil’s notorious favela but doing so with a spark
of electricity. High contrast, richly saturated cinematography, quick sharp
cross-cut editing, and converging stories. Even now rewatching the film again,
I found myself astounded by the breathless way directors Fernando Meirelles and
Kátia Lund inform the story. It’s a shorter film than Goodfellas or The
Godfather (1972), but it holds a similar richness. From its expressionistic
close-ups to its Funkadelic soundtrack. It is an ugly story beautifully
told. <o:p></o:p></div>
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If there is one thing I forgot about
the film, it’s how horny it is. From the first meeting between the young
hoodlum Shaggy (Jonathan Haagensen) and Bernice (Bernice) to the death of one
character (and the war which comes later from it) hinging partly on the sexual
frustration and machismo of a character. Isn’t it funny that a film writer who
co-hosts an erotic thriller podcast would note this aspect of the film? That
said, this is a film that has no qualms over showing beautifully tanned bodies,
often encased in sweat. One reason why this film writer felt so aware of the
film’s libido, is because it feels like 18 years on, films have only now
seemingly reached a point where they are more undaunted with ebony bodies and
sensuality. Yay progression.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Films are no less violent than they
were back in 2003 and yet the volatile acts that occur within City of God still
feel like a sobering slap to the chops. City of God crafts an environment where
poverty and struggle breed corruption. Existence is cheap. The emotional tug
which comes from the film’s bleak set pieces often stems from just how young
the victims and killers are. The grim fatalism which hangs over the death of
groovy playboy Benny. The still horrific hand or foot sequence which befouls
some kids who may not have even reached double figures in age. The despair that
loiters in the dark alleyways is set against the modest desires of the film’s
more amiable characters. To remind us of the previous paragraph, so many of
these guys should be out trying to get phone numbers.</div>
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The films of Fernando Meirelles
often portray an element of innocence lost. Something that the kids in City of
God were rapidly losing while teenagers like myself and our first world
problems held on to. Granted I am sure many more films have done similar. Let
us not be so naïve that I knew nothing about the world at large. But there was
something about this film’s urgency despite being a period piece struck me.
Something that Meirelles did further on in his career with the likes of The Two
Popes (2019), a fictionalised account of a meeting between the incumbent,
conservative Pope Benedict XVI, and the liberal future Pope Francis. City of
God was a film that blunted the fairy-tale coming of age that I started to
notice in American films at the time. Films that were quick to mark growing
pains as a passing awkward phase. It expressed a greater world in which young
people at my age were inhabited by people who would not be so lucky. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This is probably why the film is
such a formative one for me. That first watch of City of God came at a time
when I so close to the age of the characters. With much of my time watching
coming of age films and television where the pubescent struggles were somewhat
“safer”. It’s understandable to see how the film's violence could provide a
stigma to those who live the favelas of Brazil, it’s also films like City of
God which broadened the horizons of a viewer like myself. It’s a film that
never felt exploitive but impassioned. It tells its story without the kind of
romanticism that the likes of Coppola or Scorsese invoke. A period piece with a
powerful immediacy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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City of God wasn’t just a film that
became a small bridge to me and my friends in terms of film watching (I also
got turned one of my same friends on to Duncan Jones’ brilliant Moon). For me,
it’s still a marvel of bold cinematic filmmaking. You don’t need to hold a
degree in the socio-politics of Brazil to get what’s at stake, but it does
prime a viewer for what is witnessed in films such as Elite Squad (2007). It’s
also no surprise there was a boom of production filming shortly around the time
the film was released with 45 productions being completed around the same time.
People were seeing the potential of creating new challenging works with
different areas of the world. The film introduced me to a director whose future
work on similar themes of corruption and exploitation have been executed with a
comparable amount of skill. <o:p></o:p></div>
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City of God was one of the films
that started the odyssey. The gateway to different and challenging experiences
with film. A strange liberation in watching teenagers who we’re trapped in
hell. A film that would make how you look at other movies differently. I still
marvel at the film's rich use of technique and inventiveness in its intricate
storytelling, but as a piece of cinema, I was able to sit with my friends in a
dark cinema and hold a shared cinematic experience. It’s also why I find the
warm reception at the cinema of the likes of the Oscar-winning Parasite (2019)
to also be a large positive. When World Cinema is given the distribution and
push, it finds the audience. It makes the connection. Then film guys get to sleep soundly at night. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-19897280403786760132020-05-05T22:52:00.001+01:002020-05-05T22:52:32.031+01:00Article: Up All Night<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1tWzdAMZWdTxC52W_sxRp1Ba2FYP4lCHD5RBGr4C4qDjoteRkk7TEG1d77F0ukyS9C9IB4utlz-MObU4ggBXp6Kgt5H9sf2wTnQyuDktHwP1SWfWjP6Eqt-o43y6Nsf2MLh4mJn2QMU/s1600/afterhours1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="417" data-original-width="1000" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1tWzdAMZWdTxC52W_sxRp1Ba2FYP4lCHD5RBGr4C4qDjoteRkk7TEG1d77F0ukyS9C9IB4utlz-MObU4ggBXp6Kgt5H9sf2wTnQyuDktHwP1SWfWjP6Eqt-o43y6Nsf2MLh4mJn2QMU/s320/afterhours1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p><i><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></b></i></o:p><blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-style: italic;">"Kids, your grandma always
used to say to me, "Nothing good happens after 2:00 a.m.," and she
was right. When 2:00 a.m. rolls around, just go home and go to sleep" –
</b>Ted Mosby, How I Met Your Mother </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After spending a lot of my younger
life in office jobs and still being in one now, the idea of living for the
weekend is a common and desirable aim. Whatever you do in your glass and
concrete cage it matters little when the clock hits quitting time. It’s your
time to spend. It’s precious. This is clearly obvious for Paul (Griffin Dunne),
a word processor and protagonist of Martin Scorsese’s spiraling midnight farce
After Hours. The opening moments are so wryly put together. Paul’s wandering
eye gaze over the seemingly never-ending piles of paper being carried around to
nowhere. His colleague: Lloyd is a new blood trainee who bores him with his
mundane chatter about not wanting to be stuck in this humdrum world forever. We
all know the type. Especially when you work in an office in your
mid-twenties. It’s clear Paul wants to break free from the shackles of
the working day. Very soon the gates that keep him trapped will open and he’ll
get his chance of freedom. The trouble is after tonight will he really want
it? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After Hours is usually the first
film of the various movies I think of when I hear the overly recycled argument
that “Marty only makes gangster films”. Such is the quarrel that I’ve heard for
nearly 20 years. After Hours is as old as me, so god knows how long others have
had to listen to such lazy claims. Paul this lonely, bored office drone, meets
a slightly kooky, bohemian girl, Marcy (Roseanna Arquette) in a diner after
work. They bond over the book he’s reading. She’s a little off, but not as much
as the weird cashier who they both laugh at. Paul is clearly looking to spice
up his life with a lady. Forget about his job for a bit. Looking for an escape
from the monotony, it seems there might be something between the two of them.
She invites him back to her place in Soho. She lives with a punk artist who
makes paperweights. He could have one. Although he’s sure that’s not what she’s
inviting him for. That said. What’s the worst that could happen?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxEDmdkZbgkpvxeLCMv3hCOitCDyHZf3l-TLyODdXNcvvGHfbqNeT_fvZW_COlVhP1vyZ0H3BCvFdZrny5_ABdu6FYOUAr6gIhrCIMlhBhfGZxr0l31I2NGWIAdPNar0l-g5Eh26gcOS8/s1600/afterhours2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="1276" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxEDmdkZbgkpvxeLCMv3hCOitCDyHZf3l-TLyODdXNcvvGHfbqNeT_fvZW_COlVhP1vyZ0H3BCvFdZrny5_ABdu6FYOUAr6gIhrCIMlhBhfGZxr0l31I2NGWIAdPNar0l-g5Eh26gcOS8/s320/afterhours2.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In revisiting After Hours, I
couldn’t help but snicker at the glee the film has in hiding everything it can
from Paul who hasn’t got the facilities for the Soho life. He is not supposed
to be there. He does not fit in and it shows in the conversations, the glances.
The film isn’t a large-scale clash over social culture, but After Hours makes
it clear that Paul is the kind of button-pusher that shouldn’t be hanging
around Soho at night, least he found him plummeting into bohemian purgatory.
It's not really paranoia if they're really out to get you and the clues circle
all around him while he stumbles throughout his urban nightmare. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Often considered a “lesser”
Scorsese, it was a project that the director took up after admitting that he
was out of touch with a new blockbuster led world. Both Raging Bull (1980) and
The King of Comedy (1982) had failed financially and Scorsese’s pet project The
Last Temptation of Christ was abandoned by Paramount at that point. With this
as the background, Scorsese moved towards smaller more independent fare. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Smaller? Yes. Independent? Indeed.
Lesser? Not by a long shot. Rewatching After Hours only highlighted how much of
an anaconda of a movie it is. Full of the high running anxiety which bleeds
through so many of his movies. Watching Paul squirm and struggle after each
minor inconvenience wraps around him and becomes a larger problem is something
of a macabre joy. Looking back at the one-two punch of this and the King of
Comedy, I am fascinated by the amount of dark humour Scorsese gets out of the
pervading menace of the urban night dwellers of the New York streets. Like
Greek Theatre, Scorsese sees both the tragedy and the comedy in machismo. He
still toys with masculinity in later movies (GoodFellas, The Wolf of Wall
Street) however it is within earlier works such as this that feel somewhat more
defined. Possibly because Paul is only one step up from a two-bit putz. Henry
Hill and Jordan Belfort both have the charm to spare. It’s easy to see why
people consider their actions in their respective movies to be glamorised. In
After Hours, Paul is not so lucky. Late on in the movie, Paul witnesses a
murder in a nearby apartment window. “I bet they’ll blame it on me.” He
remarks. The crazy thing is, he is so deep into the inner-city sludge, a lot of
it his own doing, we would more than likely agree. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After Hours falls into the strange
small sub-category of films in which our protagonists often stuck in a rut in
their regular lives, endure madcap hijinks over the course of one night. Other
features include the likes of John Landis’ cameo loaded Into the Night (1985),
Doug Liman’s kinetic three-storied Go (1999), and perhaps my favourite movie
House Party (1990). It’s a sub-genre I find myself enjoying due to the
unpredictability that comes with the territory. Paraphrasing from the opening
quote nothing good happens after 2 am. The lure, however, is seeing what
happens to *these guys* at that time. Watching the cranks start to turn and the
oddballs slide out of the shadows, with everything falling under a tightly
wrapped cage of controlled chaos. It is the type of film that allows filmmakers
to flex their muscles with economy and pace. If Scorsese was feeling frustrated
at the idea of blockbuster movie making at the time, he conquers it here with a
film that still harbours all his visual tics and themes. Hell, it even allows
him to throw in shots reminiscent of the short silent Workers Leaving the
Lumière Factory (1895). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">New Jersey writer Joseph Minion
seemed to have a passion for the oddballs that wander New York City at night.
Along with After Hours, his other feature screenplay of note is the Nicolas
Cage vampire vehicle Vampire’s Kiss. Watching Cage as a literary agent slowly
descend into hallucinatory madness is eventful, yet despite Vampire Kiss’s
holding comparable surreal darkness to After Hours, along with similar
anxieties towards women and yuppiedom, Minion’s work holds far more presence
and control under the gaze of Scorsese and his crew. Vampire’s Kiss lacks the
punch in the storytelling that the likes of Scorsese provides, allowing an
overacting and irritating Cage lord all over the material. Amusingly it is no
surprise that one of Cage’s best (and more subdued) performances comes in
Scorsese’s 1999 film Bringing Out the Dead. Another film which deals with New
York in the dead of night. It’s also a film that flopped commercially yet was well
received by most who did see it. Additionally, there are no gangsters in
sight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s interesting reading reviews of
After Hours (Paul Attanasio and Vincent Carnby are examples) which state that
the film “fails to satisfy”, that in itself brings around a small measure of
humour. The film itself is almost entirely wrapped with male anxiety and the
wish to please and satisfy women. The amusement comes from watching this office
type flounder in front of all these women who are clearly more creative and process
more control in their destinies. To quote The Rolling Stones “You can’t always
get what you want” and that within this turn of events is not only funny but
satisfying in its own way <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It would be wise to take note that
the demise of one character does come off as unjust from a feminist reading
standpoint, helping confirm what many already feel about Scorsese as a male
director. Particularly after recent discourse over Anna Paquin’s character’s
silence within The Irishman. However, I cannot say that this one aspect
confirms the entire whole of the twisted universe of After Hours, in which the
other female characters hold their own spikiness. Scorsese has never been the
type of director I would look towards for certain female representation and
I’ll try not to go back into the likes of his filmography to try and retcon the
matter. However, I do find the women that appear in After Hours to be
entertaining and sharp in the film's own special way, even if they are not the
focus. Linda Fiorentino’s Kiki, for instance, may not feature in many scenes,
but her “fuck you” attitude coming 9 years before The Last Seduction (1994) is
certainly holds its charms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqtsoYiF6g3zl74AEwYHl93LIxMtEMHaH_U3-WbERjfVrIE2ELP3E2pcsOMLYcYU5OXp0kFHUavEd958Xcq8neTEPud3irei2g8HeLv0bC9BPj52TUhS1xWMl4uUb1aedhKjq0ZcATpC0/s1600/afterhours3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="425" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqtsoYiF6g3zl74AEwYHl93LIxMtEMHaH_U3-WbERjfVrIE2ELP3E2pcsOMLYcYU5OXp0kFHUavEd958Xcq8neTEPud3irei2g8HeLv0bC9BPj52TUhS1xWMl4uUb1aedhKjq0ZcATpC0/s320/afterhours3.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The spotlight is however on Paul
who holds a type of guilt which is common with Scorsese films of its ilk. Paul’s
“blame” comment is funny because while his punishment doesn’t fit the crime,
the film suggests this simps arrogance within the earlier segment of the film;
courting Marcy (Roseanna Arquette) while hitting on rock chick Kiki, when Marcy
steps out briefly, is more than enough to set the wheels of fate turning. It is
the type of butterfly effect turn that has the film in common with Scorsese’s
Cape Fear (1991). Someone is going to pay for that somehow. It is little
surprise that The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) and Goodfellas (1990) are quick to
get picked on when looking at Scorsese's work. Their asshole protagonists have
little care in guilt or shame, which can make them dangerously glamourous to
some. If only Paul was as brazen, he was in the earlier scenes. Then again,
it’s clear he doesn’t know that nothing good happens after hours. He should
have just gone home and slept. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-23870619478082219212020-04-17T15:17:00.002+01:002020-04-17T15:18:14.680+01:00Article: The Dirty South<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRKwpk4jRk7SqoQ7V3Gb7rqF_oLZg4dXM9Kygif-qLmo5iInIsciV8NLtilJewcaVKyKD5qYAHpnpl5EBiLmRr1qpt814IOjYOlhRS7Ah0Gtf5BdQLKX5Vg8kOcGgmJzScOGFFu3kuDk/s1600/TIGER+KING.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="960" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRKwpk4jRk7SqoQ7V3Gb7rqF_oLZg4dXM9Kygif-qLmo5iInIsciV8NLtilJewcaVKyKD5qYAHpnpl5EBiLmRr1qpt814IOjYOlhRS7Ah0Gtf5BdQLKX5Vg8kOcGgmJzScOGFFu3kuDk/s320/TIGER+KING.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A favourite podcast of mine that I often have filling my
earholes when I am preparing the Sunday roast is the highly informative, often
funny podcast <a href="https://www.iheart.com/podcast/105-behind-the-bastards-29236323/" target="_blank">Behind the Bastards</a>. Hosted by former Cracked Writer Robert
Evans; each episode documents an infamous grifter, villain or dictator from the
world’s rogues gallery. A recent episode dealt with the recent phenomenon of Tiger
King. If you’ve not got Netflix and have been living under a rock, The Netflix show
depicts the beyond the bizarre tale of a polyamorous, gay wild cat owner, whose
increasingly insane antics ended up with the aforementioned Joe, banged up in
Federal Jail for violating the endangered species act and the attempted murder
of another Big Cat owner Carole Baskin. The limited series delves into the
outrageous lives of a variety of eccentric characters. Joe’s nonconformist
lifestyle is as much of the documentaries focus as his grifting and obsession
with Baskin. Everything seems to hold itself in a twisted sense of
balance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Much has been said about the show and the background of the
people for whom it is about. But the thing that really picked my brain about
the show came from comedian Billy Wayne Davis who guested on the Behind the
Bastards Podcast. With his origins based in a more rural, part of southern
American, Davis’ reaction was one of near <a href="https://www.iheart.com/podcast/105-behind-the-bastards-29236323/" target="_blank">passivity</a>. To him, he had met so many
people like the cast of colourful characters on the show, that while he found
the show funny, he was non-plussed by their behaviour. Remarking in a near
throwaway comment that folks like Joe Exotic only shock city folk due to the
little knowledge they hold of locations that the likes of Joe inhabit. Such
criminality is common. Crooked lawmen. Hired hitmen. Dubious means of obtaining
sums of cash. And always wrapped up within a lifestyle which goes beyond the
fringes. Davis also stated on the podcast; The Daily Zeitgeist, that the likes
of Jodie Hill and Danny McBride nailed the rural, southern way of life way
before the hit Netflix show in their films The Foot Fist Way (2006) and the
sitcom Eastbound and Down (2009). Personally, a part of me thinks that we
should have been primed for the likes of Joe Exotic in films such as the 1998
Florida noir, Wild Things.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There is plenty of southern fried features with questionable
escapades that could easily make an enjoyable overnight binge along with Tiger
King. But for me, it’s Wild Things that sticks out as the crown jewel. True Crime has made a splash in the podcast and streaming world with its lurid elements
and forensic details. However, a film like Wild Things was indulging itself in
the same type of sociopathic chicanery way before Joe Exotic hit the zeitgeist.
There is a clear love of the sensationalised indulgences that true crime shows,
and podcasts enjoy playing into. But while a show such as Making a Murderer
(2015) still can claim an element of moral justice. Tiger King leans into the
outlandish mechanisms that also lie within John McNaughton’s humid cult hit. A
backcountry playground removed from a so-called civilised world far to up its
backside. Non-conformist sexual behaviour, crooked cohorts and the feeling that
everyone not only for personal gain but are also a law into themselves. Likable
characters are not what you watch either Tiger King or Wild Things for, but the
needling desire to see thorn filled rabbit hole leads for these creatures is a
strong pull.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In an article for The Ringer released around Wild Things’
20th anniversary, bestselling author Shea Serrano <a href="https://www.theringer.com/movies/2018/3/23/17153396/wild-things-movie-20th-anniversary-matt-dillon-denise-richards-neve-campbell" target="_blank">recounts </a>the amounts of
double-crosses that occur in Wild Things’ 108-minute running. Shea notes the
number of deceptive shenanigans with glee, yet it’s not noted at how well the
film manages to do this. Wild Things comes out in an era where plot-twists and
post-modern monkeyshines are well noted. Let’s not take into account Neve
Campbell popping up in Scream (1996) or the question of Who is Keyser Soze.
Wild Things still comes out a year before The 6th Sense (1999) a film in which
that film's major plot twist leaves the audience shook for years to come. Wild
Things has TWELVE double crosses within its running time, with Shea averaging
that at a double-cross every 9 minutes. Doing for plot twists what Airplane!
(1980) did for sight gags. This is, however, a showcase to how drum-tight the
movie’s narrative is and how well-oiled the mechanics play out. John McNaughton
(Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer) is not a directorial name that features
often in circles of social media, those who know the name, know that he is no
slouch. Watching Wild Things again, it is fascinating to watch how characters
are blocked in scenes to foreshadow hidden agendas and to keep the audience
guessing. The positioning of characters, as well as cutting and story shaping
from editor Elena Maganini, are a great example of “the seen unseen”. A character
placed behind a gated fence, but only after certain aspects play out first. A
coupling of characters suggesting an unfortunate outcome for one, but almost
signaling out another character who is running out of view. It’s also worth
noting aspects such as casting Theresa Russell as the rich bitch Sandra Van
Ryan. Russell who had a notable role in crime drama Black Widow (1987) in which
she plays a murderous sociopath who murders for money. The film’s sheer
audacity to cast Robert Wagner in a film that obtains mysterious boating
incidents as set pieces is a clear note of the film’s gallows humour.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Poor Taste? Of course. But Wild Things is a film that knows
what it is playing at. Salacious is the order of the day. Both Tiger King and
Wild Things embrace taboo and scandal with loving arms. They ride on the idea
of the guilty pleasure. Itching at spots that many would like to claim they do
not have. The infamous threesome is a moment with a decent amount of sleazy
steaminess yet is sneaky enough with the ages of the female students that no
one appears to care that they are sleeping with their former teacher that
should know better. However, as the camera gleefully glides slowly over the wet
body of Denise Richards midway through the film, you see that the film is
playing you like a flute. Roger Ebert in his <a href="https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/wild-things-1998" target="_blank">review </a>of the film asks people to
refrain from telling him the film is in bad taste. It is quite clear. It makes
no excuses. Ebert also remarks that the film is designed for “connoisseurs of
melodramatic comic vulgarity”. How do you feel when you see Richards’ washing a
dirty jeep in short shorts? Do you note that she is a school student in the
film? Your answers will guide you on whether you would want to watch the film.
It may also dictate your feelings towards something like Tiger King. The only
difference (thankfully) Wild Things is fiction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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Listen to the Fatal Attractions Podcast episode of Wild Things <a href="http://fatalattractions.libsyn.com/episode-12-wild-things" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<br />Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-10539229107521043682020-04-14T01:13:00.000+01:002020-04-14T01:22:04.537+01:00Review: Below Her Mouth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVv_dfKPWuAtrWDcOP-RY4fwccvD9n_bXDh4ba4N67fijV1cow8ChU_m3IT-nam92ITasTwhKLyoZsq3zeS2aS1a40QYYIU-jiJblPbWIzdIF-E5B2fcszgg6i2KET5_v_k-BDMgKQQ8/s1600/BHM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="840" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVv_dfKPWuAtrWDcOP-RY4fwccvD9n_bXDh4ba4N67fijV1cow8ChU_m3IT-nam92ITasTwhKLyoZsq3zeS2aS1a40QYYIU-jiJblPbWIzdIF-E5B2fcszgg6i2KET5_v_k-BDMgKQQ8/s320/BHM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Year: 2016<br />
Director: April Mullen<br />
Screenplay: Stephanie Fabrizi<br />
Starring: Erika Linder, Natalie Krill<br />
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Time for an odd story. One of my hobbies is photography. Most of my work is mainly women. I often ask my subjects “how do you want to be shot?” I like the subject to have an aim of the shoot and their answer will usually provide a steppingstone to the type of tone the finished image will be. One model who I enjoy shooting with was quick to voice her concerns with previous photographers over sexualizing her recent shoots. A more than reasonable argument, so I looked to avoid heading down the same path. However, the model bought props which unfortunately would negate her comments if used. When she asked to place these items within the shot. I refused. The simple reason. If you don’t want to be observed under a certain gaze, it may be wise not to utilise things that may suggest otherwise. Below Her Mouth holds a similar problem. Although the film has an issue of addition as opposed to subtraction. It is a film full of sex. However, it has the same conundrum I felt I had with my model friend: What story are you trying to tell?<br />
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Films that single-handedly deal in the female gaze on screen still seem to be somewhat of a taboo even in 2020. Which is why it’s easy to a film like Below the Mouth wanting to be a lesbian romance straightly told. However, April Mullen’s sexually charged tale of an illicit affair between a female roofer (Erika Linder) and a fashion editor (Natalie Krill) in a heterosexual engagement is not too dissimilar to the testosterone-based cliché we often hear. It’s only interested in one thing.<br />
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Let’s not lie. Below Her Mouth is sexy. It’s really sexy. The negative reviews I read about the film after watching the film, gave off the sort of puritanical leaning which seems to claim that they were somewhat above the film depicting sex which may cause an actual element of desire. It wasn’t hard to find a review that labelled the film as pornography. The physicality within the sexual scenes is substantial. It’s a film that never shies away from sex. The scenes are as plentiful as they are explicit. The film is very happy to depict two very desirable women in a variety of sexually tense situations, often bathing them in natural light or framing their writhing bodies in aesthetically pleasing compositions. Both Mullen and Maya Bankovic have done their homework here. Being a non-Hollywood movie, it also means they can push the bar on what they can show. And with no snickering in the back, the film knows how to make the sex look good.<br />
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The film’s struggle for substance in the narrative, however, provides the perfect element of truth to any cynic. Every sexual composition is lush and will no doubt corner the male gaze as well as the female one. However, the film’s turgid dialogue, sloppy metaphors and lack of characterization help push the idea that Below the Mouth is titillation and titillation only. The film’s use of one character nailing the roof outside while intercutting with the other woman masturbating in the bath while fantasizing over her is not only comically on the nose, but some of the scenes particular logistics feel unnecessary. The story keeps roofer Dallas’s backstory needlessly hidden while highlighting that she enjoys sex. The building of her character gives us little reason to care for her motives. In addition to this, as Dallas’ coded as the more masculine character, with her assertiveness being nearly her only trait, some of Dallas’s behavior is considered non-problematic simply because it’s a woman performing the actions. They could easily be perceived as toxic. The film gives little attention to Dallas's development. Keeping her an enigma, her pull towards Jasmine as well as her methods are left elliptical and unpolished.<br />
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Fashion editor Jasmine fairs only slightly better as an engaged woman who was seemingly scared straight due to one singular event in her childhood, however, the films lackluster character development again does little to convince as to why she’d be willing to drop her otherwise happy existence.<br />
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The film hints at a gender and sexuality struggle which may have been compelling. A secondary character exclamation of having to wear “conventional” women’s clothes to dictate that she fits in with certain societal expectations is sadly never built on. While Dallas’s statement of a coming out story being never-ending may not fully justify her lack of background story but is a small amount of profundity in a film that is far more interested in strap-on dildos.<br />
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All the elements add up to a film which is full of scenes that could make one hot under the collar but with sexual politics which were held together better in films which were more invested in who the film was about. The likes of My Summer of Love (2004), Moonlight (2018) or Princess Cyd (2017) name a few films which may not observe same-sex relationships with the same sexual explicitness yet hold an emotional attentiveness which Below Her Mouth seems disengaged with. If, however, one can ignore the battered clichés and slight dramatic displays at play, Below Her Mouth may hold some appeal simply by having scenes that could stream up a few windows. Don’t look for a powerfully told story through. It dissipates as quickly as condensation.<br />
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<i>Below Her Mouth was viewed via Netflix UK</i><br />
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Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-36420091662466464662020-04-09T00:15:00.002+01:002020-04-09T00:15:57.114+01:00Review: Empathy Inc<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you have a bad day at work what do you do to turn it around? Vent to the wife? A swift half with the lads? Switch on the PlayStation and shout horrible slurs at 14-year olds? I’m sure we all have our ways of dealing with having an absolute mare. In case of venture capitalist Joel, whose multimillion deal has just gone the way of Orlando Bloom’s character’s in Elizabethtown (2005), things go beyond your usual hectic day at the office.<br />
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Forcibly moved in with his nightmare in-laws and with hardly a penny to his name, Joel (Zack Robidas) is in dire straits. That is until he meets an old friend with a fancy new scheme in the line of VR. What if you spend some time in someone else’s shoes? Someone who’s life is less than fortunate? Would that place your issues into perspective? Thus, the conceit is born. A VR system that places you in the shoes of someone who is desolate. By doing so, your hang-ups will become more manageable. And all those proverbs and maxims people like to band about would be justified.<br />
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It all seems too good to be true in Empathy Inc, the lo-fi, sci-fi head spinner from Yedidya Gorsetman. Of course, it certainly is, as the little bit greedy and all to nosy Joel soon finds out. With a conceit that feels a little bit Primer (2004) and noir style black and white that couldn’t help but remind me of Darren Aronofsky’s debut Pi (1998), Empathy Inc is the kind of askew, oddity that you’d use to find late nights on the weekend when terrestrial tele was our media gods and you were never quite sure if you saw what you watched or dreamed it. Safe to say, trying to tell your wife or the lads over a swift half about this flick may get you some strange looks.<br />
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It’s also safe to say that this is a very confident piece of filmmaking from a film that is seeing how resourceful it can be while on a very limited budget. It’s lack of expansive or varied locations not only keeps the focus on the characters but gives the entire film an inescapable, hemmed in vibe. It’s also notable that while the film is limited in funds the film's compositions and transitions highlight an eye for the cinematic.<br />
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Drenched in punchy black and white, giving the whole exercise a touch of the noir to its sci-fi leanings, Empathy Inc’s strengths lie in its simplicity. The film gives us just enough of its lofty idea to make the story compelling. The characters may be broad, but they’re never flat. Although the actors struggle with the tasks given as the film ramps up the tempo and twists later in the film. While Empathy Inc toys with deeper themes of haves and have nots, corrupt corporate investors and the identity of the self, it’s far more at home as being a moderately thrilling sci-fi that would fit comfortably on the same shelf as the films of Shaun Carruth. Although it may not get as far under the skin.<br />
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<i>Empathy Inc is available now on VOD via Amazon Prime, Google Play and YouTube</i>Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-66264808554985542142020-03-28T23:16:00.000+00:002020-03-28T23:31:08.808+00:00Article: Digging for Answers<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I remember first discovering Dellamorte Dellamore through an old
horror film website around the time the internet was young and dial-up ruled supreme.
Through a stroke of luck, I managed to record it off channel 4 a year or two
later. Channel 4 being the prime location for film oddities at the time.
Nowadays, the likes of Dellamorte Dellamore can be found through scrolling
through Amazon on whatever home entertainment system you favour. At the time of
writing, you can stream it free on-demand with Amazon Prime.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">For a film nearing 30 years old, Dellamorte Dellamore has lost
little of its macabre strangeness. Like so many cult features, it’s defined by
not being forced into an anorexic space of specification. Francesco Dellamorte
(Rupert Everett) is a cemetery custodian who is sick of having to kill the
city’s dead a second time around, as they keep raising from their grave for an
unknown reason.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While Francesco has grown weary of being the town’s sole
caretaker of the living dead (his intellectually impaired assistant Gnaghi is
of little support), the Gilliam-esque bureaucracy of the local administration
seems uninterested in looking into his claims. Although as opposed to filing
the correct paperwork, Francesco prefers dispatching the living dead with his
revolver as not only he finds it easier, he also wishes to keep his job. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Francesco soon becomes fixated on an unnamed young widow (Anna
Falchi) whom he encounters at her husband’s funeral. After a frosty reception,
she responds in kind. Things become complicated however when the woman dies
while consummating their relationship on the deceased man’s grave. Because this
is an Italian zombie horror film that looks at the word taboo with a hilarious
amount of disdain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That speck of plot doesn’t even cover half of what Dellamorte
Dellamore is about or is really interested in. In the same way, George A
Romero’s zombie saga made satirical commentary on American society dependant of
the era, Michele Soavi’s feature leans in towards surrealism and philosophical
observations. The film’s English title; “Cemetery Man” sounds so infantile when
you consider that the original title Dellamorte Dellamore is Italian wordplay which
can be interpreted as either the rather literal “About Death, About Love” or
the slightly more poetic “About the death of love”. No doubt the change to
Cemetery Man for English Speakers was brought about due to some claptrap about
being “more commercial”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dellamorte Dellamore is not as interested in being commercially
viable as it is in surrealist and abstract alliterations and pontification
between love and death. Both Francesco and Gnaghi are transfixed throughout the
film with ideas of re-claiming the unclaimable. From fixing shattered skulls to
falling in love with re-animated, decapitated heads of teenagers. The duo is
somewhat obliged to both embrace and repeal the final float down the river Styx
in a way that’s compelling as well as deeply humorous. An early scene has
Gnaghi fighting against the wind as it blows away dead leaves. He ends up
literally lying on top of them in a futile attempt to fight the inevitable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The film appears to owe a lot to the surrealist movement with
visuals that directly lift from Rene Magritte’s painting “The Lovers”.
Meanwhile, Francesco keeps seeing his unnamed infatuation in different
encounters as different women, although always played by Falchi. Each
confrontation has Francesco delivers a new challenge to navigate, all the while
each persona acknowledges Francesco as if they’ve met and loved each other
before. The surrealist notions play out in a manner that feels like an offshoot
of the cinematic works of Luis Brunel. More acutely Brunel’s final feature That
Obscure Object of Desire (1977). Whereas Brunel interchangeably uses two
different actresses to play the temperamental Conchita from scene to scene,
both films use surrealist juxtapositions to heighten each film's quixotic
sentiments of love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">While the film is as gruesome as one would expect from a
particular type of Italian horror movie Dellamorte Dellamore has a dirty love
for lobbing metaphysical pipebombs towards its viewer. “Hell, at a certain
point in life, you realize you know more dead people than living.” Francesco
rambles in a plaintive voice over. Morose, twilight life thinking from the
proclaimed “engineer” of a cemetery with the Latin inscription “RESURRECTURIS”
on the gate. Of course, this plays into the film’s dirt dry humour. One of the
film’s earliest shots earmarks a snowglobe. We witness the visual that inhabits
the globe later in the movie in a way that will either take viewers out of the
film or have them embrace its eccentrics. As a good cult film does. Either way,
the element encapsulates the circular patterns that inhabit the film but also
slaps the viewer in the face with the film’s poignant final moments. When the
film asks us to reconcile with a man whose obsession with the grave takes him
to the brink. What is there beyond love, beyond death, and past our
imagination? When we leave the comfort of our former ourselves past the point
of no return, what else exists? Anything? In the morbidly wicked view of
Dellamorte Dellamore perhaps not.</span></div>
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<br />Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137938119400588997.post-76751435905467735262019-02-21T22:21:00.005+00:002020-08-05T00:37:31.846+01:00Article: Belonging on Beale Street
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfxEi7ocrSiRW-ulSfg7RotdOBrY8eebEEi_Scc3OO8MBSJeN8zMxchVEJBn8FZGjLjJqsJMgd_DH1ePXPWcOlUCgLLBJf24yAyFFy7A8gr01mb8591FiegUMQT_xA-XsmiM8JSPx5jQ/s1600/hero_beale-street-talk-2018.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="1200" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfxEi7ocrSiRW-ulSfg7RotdOBrY8eebEEi_Scc3OO8MBSJeN8zMxchVEJBn8FZGjLjJqsJMgd_DH1ePXPWcOlUCgLLBJf24yAyFFy7A8gr01mb8591FiegUMQT_xA-XsmiM8JSPx5jQ/s320/hero_beale-street-talk-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Forgive me for
the weasel words at the start of this. I cannot remember for the life of me the
many people who state that when writing about cultural commentary on media that
it shouldn’t be personal. Apologises on this opening which is something that attribute
to me and what I’ve seen. </span></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">On one of the
photography forums that I frequent, a woman made a post asking about what could
be done to celebrate and encourage more female photographers on the site.
Photography like so many creative endeavours can be considered top-heavy when
it comes to gender, although of course there are many variables that should be
considered. Almost straight away the inquisition came. Prods and pokes at a
relatively harmless question. Nothing said held out and out aggression, but
many replies held a clear defensiveness. The response that struck me more than
anything was by one gentleman who stated:</span></span></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">“Call me biased
as a middle-aged white male, who has not transgendered, and has all his limbs
and hopefully faculties, but I really don’t even think about these things until
people decide that the world is” unfair” in their eyes. Can we maybe just look
at the quality of images.......?”</span></b></i></blockquote>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Isn’t this the
sticking point? The crux of the argument? The problem? That the person of such
a description can brush off the idea of celebrating a different group’s foray
into creativity because they do not have to think about it? That because they
are usually considered the target market, they can dictate the themes and hold
the gates on what is worthy? Suffice to say, I ducked out of my forum lurking
at that point. You can always see where such debates go. It was much better for
me to go to the movies, another medium which suffers from similar trappings.
Just go to any forum debating Captain Marvel…</span></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Often the
critique thrown at certain black films often sounds similar to the “I don’t see
colour" argument. Not everyone will get something out of Films such as Get
Out (2017) and Moonlight (2017), but the dismissive nature which sometimes
comes from people when they observe such films, consciously or not, highlight
their dismissiveness of racial identity. There have been films like Black
Panther (2018) before and watching the many MCU entries help establish that
point. But there’s rarely any colour represented films like Black Panther and
this is where the discourse becomes fractured. In the same way, black audiences
helped the likes of a problematic racial sitcom such as Love Thy Neighbour become
popular, the latest glut of black-led movies have staunch support for the
simple reason that in not seeing the racial aspect in such features is to erase
swathes of people's viewpoints alongside it too. In the same way, a female
photographer may have a different stance on how to create images thematically
but can be ignored under a certain presence of “quality”. A white audience
member can view movie concerns from particular viewpoints, safe in the
knowledge that their next film is merely around the corner. For minority
viewers, they have not been able to. Due to this, as a black audience member, I may now feel that I can be quick to dismiss viewpoints if I consider the
commentator would be softer on a “white” movie for having the same faults. </span></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Berry Jenkins’
tales of unrequited love can and have been criticised by people and of course
we can all do this, however, I would be interested in how many people who
dismiss Moonlight would be doing so in contrast to its particular blend of
unapologetically black queer cinema. As if there’s that many. The same would go
for Medicine for Melancholy (2008) a black romance which riffs on the
mumblecore movement, a group of films not particularly known for its diverse
demographic. </span></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenkins’ If
Beale Street Can Talk is very much more of the same when we consider his body
of work. A matter of fact drama based on a novel by James Baldwin. With the
inspiration of Wong Kar-Wai clearly in mind, the film ebbs and flows in a
fashion which may be unfamiliar to those who expect a more typical sense of
narrative structure. Characters we expect to reappear, do not, yet their
actions and thoughts linger long after they leave the screen. Much like
Jenkins’ previous works, this is not unexpected. For a viewer like myself,
whose enjoyment of more typical modern features is at a slight point of contempt,
Beale Street’s way is warmly met by me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Bathed in the
beautiful, warming glow of James Laxton’s cinematography, Jenkins captures the
thoughts and emotions of his character's feelings in tightly framed, richly
light close-ups. Shots so detailed they point out the needless endeavour of 3D
or Secret Cinema to provide immersion. When Nicholas Britell's score soared, my tear ducts
often swelled, as is Jenkins ability to deliver us in front of these simple
characters leading complicated lives. The film explores the problematic themes
of redlining, rape, and racism in America, yet it never preaches. It’s
emotional moments never feel like they are pandering. The film’s expressions of
love never feel cloying or plastic. </span></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The beauty in
Jenkins work, for an admirer like myself, lies in his ability to show us lives
that are being lived with no need for huge telegraphed scenes of sensation, yet
plenty of moments to provide reflection. When we observe the intimate moments
of our lead characters making love for the first time, it should be noted of
how black male sexuality is captured as not only an expression of love but as a
moment of vulnerability. The black male without aggression, something that
could possibly be missed by viewers as it is an element which still feels alien
to them. </span></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">If Beale Street
Could Talk, did not hold the same immediate emotional response as Moonlight
did. The latter film lodged a lump in my throat so large, I felt it may never
have left. However, Beale Street firmly establishes Jenkins as the most important
black filmmaker for a viewer such as me. Being a sensitive soul, it is
unsurprising that I hold a soft spot for many emotional and expressive
features, but it is with Jenkins for the third time running, that I have
watched a film of an artist and felt my chest would burst. The third time that
a filmmaker has opened a part of myself and explored particular emotions that I
myself have grappled with. It’s not to say that other filmmakers have not done
this. They do. Just not like this. </span></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The point of
this ramble, which has taken me too long to write and you perhaps too long to
read, is that Jenkins’ framing of people of colour in Beale Street, like his
other features, or even Charles Burnett's, highlight and frame western black
cinema in a way that many other white filmmakers would quite simply be
uninterested in. The quality is there. What he’s doing with it is celebrating
us.</span></span></div>
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Afrofilmviewerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02496201078047006999noreply@blogger.com