Year: 2017
Director: Darren Aronofsky
Screenplay: Darren Aronofsky
Starring: Jennifer Lawrence, Javier Bardem, Ed Harris, Michelle Pfeiffer.
Synopsis is here:
So that was mother! A tumbling freefall about the creative process? An overloaded allegory about absolutely everything? Whatever you may think the film is about, the main point I seemed to take from the film is that Aronofsky is Angry with a capital A, to substitute the missing capital in the film’s title card. At the time of writing, my twitter feed has been filled with snarky cinephiles bemoaning the film’s outrageousness as well as the punishing way it tortures its lead (who the director is now dating). It’s a film where its detractors must scream from the highest mountain on how much they disliked it.
Another word beginning with A that I would describe mother! With be absurd. It’s a film which wanted to make a point about humanity’s destruction of the planet, as well as flirt with the same sort of biblical subtexts that Aronofsky has been playing with since his lo-fi indie breakthrough Pi (1998). It wants to mention commentary on celebrity culture and wishes to it do so with haunted house tropes and lingering references to Roman Polanski. The film lays its cards on the table with little disregard on whether the audience wishes to go with it or not. Its execution is set at a pitch which is so high that only dogs could hear. It’s not surprising that it’s set audiences apart. There are those who clearly have the ear for it and those wondering why the other half have tilted their heads.
Did I like it? Sure. I cackled like a schoolgirl through a lot of mother! Mostly because its high camp melodrama tickled me in the right way. I couldn’t take such an audacious film seriously and I suspect that the film and its makers know this, despite its clear Anger at the world. The only way Aronofsky could lash out at everything that pisses him off (the environment, celebrity hounding, the meaning and understanding of creation/destruction). It’s reminiscent of Polanski’s apartment trilogy and holds a similar love for finding humour in its bleakness. Its main conceit had me considering the haywire temperament of Andrzej Zulawski’s Possession (1981) as well as Chuck Palahniuk’s fever dream of a novel Diary (2003). It also seems to nod at the transgressional nightmares of Lars Von Trier and tries to aim for that same troublesome headspace. I must admit I’m more with Aronofsky’s style of “lulz” than Von Trier’s. I also feel that all the aforementioned examples are tighter with their focus.
My main issue with the movie is that despite its clear intention to be an ambitious piece of audacity, is that it has the same problems as Richard Kelly’s Southland Tales (2006). It wants to be all these things to its audience, but in doing so, the film becomes much of a muchness. The cast is routinely up for the absurdity even though it’s not top tier performances from any of them. The tight claustrophobic framing, overloading of close-ups and bucking of typical structure gives the film a vision far removed from so many movies recently released. However, despite the “fun” you can have reveled in its nihilism (it’s really made for a particular sense of humour) once the film enters its extraordinary final 30 minutes, it all feels like 10 different people shouting at once, which is strange considering the film does what it can to isolate everything through the viewpoint of Jenifer Lawrence’s character.
That said, mother! is kind of the perfect type of movie for where we are as filmgoers. It’s ability to polarise audiences is heartily welcomed in the film world that seems hellbent on clogging social media streams on which bland filmmaker has been fired from whichever totally safe megafranchise. While the films detractor’s current snark levels feel somewhat insufferable, rather this than a movie that gave us no experience. To those who favour the film, it’s interesting to see what exactly they see within the hysteria. I for one enjoyed seeing a director try and reach for the sky. It’s very telling to see how many people were quick claim folly on this Icarus attempt. Each to their own. However, one hopes the conversations on mother! last for a long time. I may then be interested in rewatching it and joining in.
Showing posts with label Polanski. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Polanski. Show all posts
Sunday, 17 September 2017
Sunday, 6 August 2017
Review: It Comes at Night
Year: 2017
Director: Trey Edward Shults
Screenplay: Trey Edward Shults
Starring: Joel Edgerton, Christopher Abbott, Carmen Ejogo, Kelvin Harrison Jr, Riley Keough.
Synopsis is here:
It Comes at Night has been marketed as a typical horror film. I’m sure that there were a few people who saw posters and trailers and assumed that it would be the type of bland, stereotypical nonsense that leaks out into cinemas at the arse-end of January or the back end of the Netflix new release queue. Not so.
It Comes at Night found itself referenced in Steve Rose’s Guardian article which tries to make that argument that the film is part of a newly termed (by Rose himself) post-horror movement, in which films which don’t run the course of a so called conventional horror film, like say The Conjuring (2013), are slowly taking over at the multiplex. The problem with a term such as post-horror is that quite simply, it's the type of term used by people, who don’t seem to be particularly interested in the genre. At one-point Rose states as a result of successful titles such as Split (2017) and Get Out (2017) means, as a result, there’s now a market for horrors with low budget and mass appeal. Most people who enjoy horror films know that this has been the case for decades and not just now.
The same goes for the very idea of post-horror. In the documentary The American Nightmare (2000), director Adam Simon details many of the so-called aspects of post horror that Rose depicts. While true that a modern glut of films has brought around a sense of “refinement” to the ideas Rose describes. What Trey Edward Shults brings across in his second feature are the same types of concerns and societal anxieties that inhabit horror films since the likes of George A Romero appeared on the scene. Things don’t jump out at you during Romero’s Martin (1978), David Cronenberg’s Dead Ringers (1988) or Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man (1973), but we certainly accept the existential dread that comes with them.
Much like Shults first film, Krisha (2016) It Comes at Night is a film in which the horror comes from regular people reaching deep inside them to do horrific things. It opens with a family being forced into the difficult decision to extinguish the life of an elderly member suffering from an unknown epidemic which has – from what we know – ravaged America as we know it. Shults opens his film almost exactly like his debut feature: with an older face framed in extreme close-up. Despite looking at a stranger, Shults manages to portray familiarity, uncertainty and fear in a few short moments. He also sets the tone for the rest of the movie.
The atmosphere is one of intense grief and paranoia as we follow a family struggling to survive a contagious disease which has taken hold of the nation. Tempers flare when a second family interrupt their secluded sanctuary.
It Comes at Night feels quite plain when laid out on paper. In execution, it’s an exceptionally deft piece of work from a filmmaker who has quickly developed an authoritative vision on screen. Much like Get Out (2017) or Polanski’s apartment trilogy, Shults is an auteur that understands and utilises the idea that what can destroy us is simple mistrust. The horror that unravels within the film comes from the simple fact that with the right amount of pressure, decent people will do horrific things.
Shults mostly eschews overt violence and, like his previous feature focuses fully on mood. Save for one sequence, there are no ‘BOO’ moments, merely a steady feeling of unease that parades throughout. The camera set-ups are simple. Nothing complex. But the use of slow foreboding zooms, tight close-ups and powerful use of sound help bring around an inescapable feeling of dread. Tension builds as we quickly realise that the events that occur could be easily avoidable, yet the very real craving for self-destruction makes everything seem unavoidable. The terror stems from our wish to pick at the frayed edges of our humanity. To tongue the cut roof of the mouth. To pick at the scabs.
It Comes at Night picks an exceptionally on point cast to bring the terror home. You can feel that both Joel Edgerton and Christopher Abbott’s father figures are striving to make things work for their families. You can really feel that search for catharsis through Kelvin Harrison Jr’s display as Travis. Carmen Ejogo and Riley Keough are well drafted as the film’s motherly characters and each actor manages to tap into the right amount of feel to bring round the fraught and delicate bonds needed for such a story. Bonds which have their fragility heightened as uncertainty creeps in.
The beauty of the film’s ugliness lies in how well Shults navigates and toys with those processed ideas of the American family. This theme has lingered in American horror films since Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1960). It’s apparent that it is these generational and social tensions which trigger something within the filmmaker. It also highlights why the idea of “post-horror” garnered such a negative reaction. It seems to be quite clear that Shults is updating tried and tested ideas for a different generation. For this writer, It Comes at Night works exceedingly well. Understanding the pitfalls of what could be considered “lesser” horror, the film manages to destabilise and unnerve viewers without the simple need to throw guts at the screen or use flagrant jump scares to catch the attention. It Comes at Night’s fears comes from the simple fact that the darkest monsters are the ones who we instil our trust in. When we look back at so much horror through the ages, we realise that it has always been that way.
Director: Trey Edward Shults
Screenplay: Trey Edward Shults
Starring: Joel Edgerton, Christopher Abbott, Carmen Ejogo, Kelvin Harrison Jr, Riley Keough.
Synopsis is here:
It Comes at Night has been marketed as a typical horror film. I’m sure that there were a few people who saw posters and trailers and assumed that it would be the type of bland, stereotypical nonsense that leaks out into cinemas at the arse-end of January or the back end of the Netflix new release queue. Not so.
It Comes at Night found itself referenced in Steve Rose’s Guardian article which tries to make that argument that the film is part of a newly termed (by Rose himself) post-horror movement, in which films which don’t run the course of a so called conventional horror film, like say The Conjuring (2013), are slowly taking over at the multiplex. The problem with a term such as post-horror is that quite simply, it's the type of term used by people, who don’t seem to be particularly interested in the genre. At one-point Rose states as a result of successful titles such as Split (2017) and Get Out (2017) means, as a result, there’s now a market for horrors with low budget and mass appeal. Most people who enjoy horror films know that this has been the case for decades and not just now.
The same goes for the very idea of post-horror. In the documentary The American Nightmare (2000), director Adam Simon details many of the so-called aspects of post horror that Rose depicts. While true that a modern glut of films has brought around a sense of “refinement” to the ideas Rose describes. What Trey Edward Shults brings across in his second feature are the same types of concerns and societal anxieties that inhabit horror films since the likes of George A Romero appeared on the scene. Things don’t jump out at you during Romero’s Martin (1978), David Cronenberg’s Dead Ringers (1988) or Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man (1973), but we certainly accept the existential dread that comes with them.
Much like Shults first film, Krisha (2016) It Comes at Night is a film in which the horror comes from regular people reaching deep inside them to do horrific things. It opens with a family being forced into the difficult decision to extinguish the life of an elderly member suffering from an unknown epidemic which has – from what we know – ravaged America as we know it. Shults opens his film almost exactly like his debut feature: with an older face framed in extreme close-up. Despite looking at a stranger, Shults manages to portray familiarity, uncertainty and fear in a few short moments. He also sets the tone for the rest of the movie.
The atmosphere is one of intense grief and paranoia as we follow a family struggling to survive a contagious disease which has taken hold of the nation. Tempers flare when a second family interrupt their secluded sanctuary.
It Comes at Night feels quite plain when laid out on paper. In execution, it’s an exceptionally deft piece of work from a filmmaker who has quickly developed an authoritative vision on screen. Much like Get Out (2017) or Polanski’s apartment trilogy, Shults is an auteur that understands and utilises the idea that what can destroy us is simple mistrust. The horror that unravels within the film comes from the simple fact that with the right amount of pressure, decent people will do horrific things.
Shults mostly eschews overt violence and, like his previous feature focuses fully on mood. Save for one sequence, there are no ‘BOO’ moments, merely a steady feeling of unease that parades throughout. The camera set-ups are simple. Nothing complex. But the use of slow foreboding zooms, tight close-ups and powerful use of sound help bring around an inescapable feeling of dread. Tension builds as we quickly realise that the events that occur could be easily avoidable, yet the very real craving for self-destruction makes everything seem unavoidable. The terror stems from our wish to pick at the frayed edges of our humanity. To tongue the cut roof of the mouth. To pick at the scabs.
It Comes at Night picks an exceptionally on point cast to bring the terror home. You can feel that both Joel Edgerton and Christopher Abbott’s father figures are striving to make things work for their families. You can really feel that search for catharsis through Kelvin Harrison Jr’s display as Travis. Carmen Ejogo and Riley Keough are well drafted as the film’s motherly characters and each actor manages to tap into the right amount of feel to bring round the fraught and delicate bonds needed for such a story. Bonds which have their fragility heightened as uncertainty creeps in.
The beauty of the film’s ugliness lies in how well Shults navigates and toys with those processed ideas of the American family. This theme has lingered in American horror films since Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1960). It’s apparent that it is these generational and social tensions which trigger something within the filmmaker. It also highlights why the idea of “post-horror” garnered such a negative reaction. It seems to be quite clear that Shults is updating tried and tested ideas for a different generation. For this writer, It Comes at Night works exceedingly well. Understanding the pitfalls of what could be considered “lesser” horror, the film manages to destabilise and unnerve viewers without the simple need to throw guts at the screen or use flagrant jump scares to catch the attention. It Comes at Night’s fears comes from the simple fact that the darkest monsters are the ones who we instil our trust in. When we look back at so much horror through the ages, we realise that it has always been that way.
Monday, 2 September 2013
Review: Magic magic
Year: 2013
Director: Sebastián Silva
Screenplay: Sebastián Silva
Starring:
Juno Temple, Emily Browning, Micheal Cera
Synopsis is
here
A film that
is destined to polarise the audience with its abstractness, Magic Magic is a
film that will take people to the brink of irritation or sympathy but if it
gets one thing right, it’s the fact that it doesn’t wait around for you to get
your head around it.
Set in
Chile, Magic Magic is a thriller plays with cultural arrogance in the same vain
as Repulsion or Frantic, yet seems influenced by the fractured psychology
of Polanski’s most famous features also. Here we have a woman who is culturally
and emotional isolated amongst a group of people too juvenile and ignorant
fully understand what may be at play. The film can feel distant as there’s no
sign posts telling you where to go, but even when the film treads on the line
of obtuseness, the basic aspects of the narrative is simple enough to follow. As a whole the film doesn’t pound its note as
hard as Aronofsky (Black Swan) or hold the pomp of Von Trier (Melancholia), but
it understand simple dreads and fragile emotions with an assured deftness of
touch.
The island,
in which the film is set, becomes the largest signifying aspect, morphing
into a physical and emotional quarantine for the pale faced Alicia (a brilliant
Juno Temple). One scene has Alicia out with her new found friends as they go
cliff jumping. All except Alicia are able to jump in. She is quite literally
unable to take her feet of the island, a place which has brought forth a huge
amount of disconnection to her. Like Polanski at his best, the island slowly
shapes itself into a prison.
Cinematographer Christopher Doyle takes centre stage here, capturing the
off kilter mood with near perfect composition, and shooting the landscape in
such a way that even nearby animals take on ominous presence with their
gaze.
The films main strength
is in how it maintains its tone throughout. The ambiguous nature of the film is
kept in balance due to Temple’s fragile performance. It becomes apparent that the
film subtly changes from a more conventional thriller with horror tropes into a
subtle cry for help. We are once again seeing yet another “delicate woman in
trouble” and Magic Magic doesn’t reach the same heights as the likes of Amer,
Black Swan or Carrie But Temple keeps us engaged throughout. Having such strong
casting in place, makes the “woman in peril” such a sticking point in cinema.
Cast-wise; it will very likely infuriate more casual viewers that the
film cares little about the fact you may know these actors from Harry Potter,
Superbad or otherwise. That said I'm not shocked to see Emily Browning in this
considering her work in The Uninvited/Sucker Punch. Michael Cera does well with
a one note performance.
The pacing is a little wayward and the film doesn’t really push anything
in the way of originality. However Magic Magic is a nightmare film which
unsettles well as it toys with the lead’s fractured state. Magic Magic will
only really turn on those with a particular taste for these things. The films
conclusion can possibly leave you aggravated, but only if you don’t fall for
Doyle’s beautiful camera work and Temple‘s display.
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