Sunday 14 November 2010

SOMEWHERE

Someone pretty please reveal the punchline to me.

I'm waiting earnestly to have some kind of epiphany, where I  wake up and realise how brilliant this film really was, just like the reviews say!

And just perhaps I'll realise that the issue was indeed my lack of wit or know how. I was just having a sleepy evening and somehow dodged the profound symbolism waiting to overwhelm me.

Hmmmmm...nope.

It's been a couple evenings now and I'm still as puzzled and agitated at having lost 2 hours of my life watching this stew of muddled ingredients and painfully drawn out moments.

I'm a big fan of Sofia Coppola inventions, her Marc Jacob commercials, her subtle photography, soft, vintage references and yes, interesting, although not always wildly engaging films. The cast and soundtrack of Virgin Suicides were intensely romantic, i felt like this woman from the netherlands of Hollywood royalty had touched upon something visually and emotionally that I'd only captured in my honey scented dreams.

And then of course she went and made a film that perfectly and quite scarily captured a moment in time, a sentiment appropriate for only this generation of cynics and young intellects. Lost in Translation, again, a brilliant soundtrack and performances to boot.
Mary Antoinette was purely a guilty pleasure to be tasted, partly swallowed and spat out by all.
Pretty, but also pretty vacant.
Was she a one hit wonder people were starting to ask?
Was it her heritage alone that set her up for this perfect fall?

No! I said, absolutely not!
She is classy and stylish and perfectly poised to take the prize.
What could be more appropriate than a savvy, young woman of extraordinarily royal blood lines to conquer the Hollywood dynasty?!?!

And then man oh man, she just had to go prove me wrong.
WHY????
Why did they let her make this?
I know that everyone was at the previewing of this film, Francis, Roman, Jason, the whole clan. Her husband, probably the whole band, her publicists, managers, financiers, producers and so on. And youre really telling me that not one of them, not one, could summons the courage to desperately urge her to re edit or re shoot some of the film or just shoot the film in the head.

I dont know how it works. So, its absolutely naive and ridiculous of me to assume that i do and that this calamity could have been rectified somehow at any point without risking some major losses.

I guess, what i'm asking is why did she make this film?

The story was grotesquely cliche, the acting terribly uninspiring and the music, even the music was dum. Foo Fighters and unplugged Julian Casablancas?  Who cares man???

If you have any light to shed on this, then, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeese alarm me, alert me, enlighten me. Otherwise I am destined to take shelter under this rock of deep Coppola disappointment which apparently I am but one of only few!

Sigh.

Friday 12 November 2010

ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST



I was watching a doco on the history of LSD the other day and about half way through they announce that one of its more dedicated followers, Ken Kesey, wrote a little novel called One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. Sadly, Ken was so distraught at the interpretation of his novel, that he refuses to even watch it, instead, deciding to sue the producers of the film, as it is not presented through the eyes of Chief, as is in the novel, instead we see it through the eyes of Mc Murphy. Played seamlessly by Mr Jack Nicholson.

Brash, unkept, animalistic and really very, very sexy. Nicholson, like Brando before him possesses an undeniable magnetism that draws far beyond the screen.
It's hard to say whether this film, although still brilliant in execution, would be as interesting, as charming, as enjoyable were he not playing the lead of McMurphy. It's important that he is dangerous and he is, although, he is never menacing or corrupt.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is a weighty, provocative film. To create the quiet suspense and contempt we experience throughout ain't no easy feat, however,  director Milos Foreman does a brilliant job of this. Mostly because we develop a strong connection with McMurphy and his loony bin friends, Chief being our favourite friend of course. A giant, spirited character, his quiet wisdom and energy give us all something to hope for.
He is the anchor in the film.
The rest are starving for attention, affection, something more than what life has dished them. As a result a few of them create conditions, a few embellish, a few of course, are genuinely raving mad though.
None the less, they become our buddies, we all go fishing together, play b ball together, drink and drive together and then of course, feel a united disdain and hatred together for the unbearably cruel, Nurse Ratched.
Undoubtedly one of cinemas magnificent villains.
She taunts, teases and plays with each and every one of them. In the end, as we know, she gets the last word. Sadly, we are left hoping with the films tragic conclusion, if perhaps, she might be left for decades with the unsettling consciousness some of us tend to develop much later in life.

Does she wake up one morning and suddenly realise what she's done? Who she's tormented? And maybe she realises that long after the damage has been done, her victims will be haunted by her cruelty forever.

Well, sometimes, the most painful revenge is for one to be cursed with an eternal guilty conscious.

We can only hope!

Friday 27 August 2010

Easy Rider Love

Below is a cool fashion shoot and video inspired by my new favourite film....

Also, check out this clip by cool Canadian band Sloan, it's a great re enactment of the opening scene in the film.










Thursday 26 August 2010

EASY RIDER

Man oh man oh man oh man, it pains me that until this very moment, I've never actually seen this film in it's entirety.

A great part of who i am today, is no doubt a result of the film's profound influence and effect on modern culture. The wisdom, philosophy, music, style, rhythm and flow of the film felt like everything and nothing I've seen. Definitely everything I've heard before, it's astonishing to me to consider that these songs were new at the time, imagine that!?!?!? It's one of the few times i can recall being so moved by the marriage of film and music.
Steppin Wolf, Dylan, Hendrix, The Byrds. But more to the point, it's about the songs, the feeling.

Then there's Peter Fonda, magnificent and humble. Dennis Quaid, adventurous and eager. Jack Nicholson, just perfect, always perfect.

It's the ideal film really.

A moment in time captured beautifully, some of it on 35mm, some 16mm, the LSD scene (one of my new all time favourite scenes) was apparently a visual accident, a result of leaked film.

                                                 

 

          
In any case, the format in which way we view the happenings throughout, seem's insignificant compared with the message. The collective pieces made something that feels truthful. They were reaching for something, grabbing at clues and ideas at any   and every turn. The commune, the self made man,  the stoner campfires, they are on the eternal American road redefining the
unattainable American dream, all before our very eyes.

69 was a lucky year for receiving this film.







       

Thursday 12 August 2010

ANNA KARINA



Karina, Karina......she dances under fairy lights.





         

Tuesday 10 August 2010

ON THE WATERFRONT



What could possibly be said about this film that hasn't already? 


Who else could possibly contribute to the canon of film wisdom already dedicated to this masterpiece?


Not I really.


So, instead of a careful and painfully detailed synopsis of On the Waterfront, i'll just tell you what I thought......


It's fucking astounding cinema.
Seriously.
If every film were a zodiac sign, this would surely be a Taurus. 
Strong, stubborn, proud, bursting with good intention. 
Often questioning ones own moral and intellectual character. 
If this film were a car it would be a hard working Ford Pick-up, rusted but valuable.


You think I'm being flippant with this, but trust me I'm not. I often identify art in terms of a relative comparison.


Brando dances on film, his spirit, his expression, his voice. 
He moves on film like no one I've witnessed, perhaps touches of James Dean and Paul Newman et al, but they all express that same NYC school of brutal realism. 
But where Dean possesses an underlying sadness, Brando seems angry, which makes him just that bit more intense than the rest of them and perhaps it's what lies underneath that hints at that aura. An undeniable nonchalance that's brooding and incredibly attractive.


And then there's that dialogue, ya know, the line within that monologue towards the end:
"You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it. It was you, Charley."
 You've heard it a million times before, seen it worshipped at award ceremonies for decades, sat through a tonne of poorly impersonations. But to finally see it within the context of the film, to watch him react to his brother Charlie's sly admission of lowly character is something special.


When you watch a film like On the Waterfront, you have to feel very grateful.
Grateful that you are privy to view such artistic beauty within the confines of your own home.
Grateful that at that particular point in film culture someone with enough balls and savvy wrote a script that challenged certain ideals of the time and then you have to be grateful knowing that a team of only the most perfect human beings capable of expressing that sentiment were around at that very moment to contribute to what essentially becomes one of the greatest films of our time.


I am indeed more than grateful to have seen it!




  
   

Saturday 7 August 2010

GAINSBOURG (Vie heroique)


Whilst I'm waiting for my next classic film to arrive in the mail, I'm gonna keep ya posted on the in between films i may have seen about town......I know this blog is dedicated specifically to working my way through the Top 100 filmlist, but rules are boring anyway.

So, a bunch of us went to go see Gainsbourg the other night at Baker St cinema, if you don't live in London, it should be known that Screen on the Green theaters are the most super dooper of them all. There are a few of them about town, they are small, unique, artsy dives where you can see the newest and oldest art-house/independent gems, grab a chilled glass of rose and kick back.

Tonight's film was Gainsbourg. Please keep in mind I have been DYING to see this film forever, it's a bio epic on one of Frances most respected and misunderstood legends, Serge Gainsbourg. I grew up loving his music, loving his style and of course that of his many muses and just, well, he is so undeniably, positively, beautifully French.

There are hundreds of reviews for this film currently out there and growing by the minute....some are praising the life out of it, some mystified by its success.

I sit on the fence.

I'm still trying to work out what it was about the film that didn't quite resonate with me the way I dreamed it would. I mean how could this be anything less than the immaculate visual and emotional inspiration for a girl like me?? Truth was, as my friend's put it, it was all about the first half.
There was a beautiful portrait painted of Serge's early life, which consumes a mere half the film, we develop along with him, through the war years, his artistic fumblings, first loves and so on.
And then we have the second half, BAM, POW, WHIZZ (as Bardot so seductively purrs at one point) we have the second half!
Qu'est-ce que c'est!?

A speedy and clumsy escapade through the trials and tribulations which spans the rest of his challenged existence. The problem is, well, he becomes an asshole. We stop to develop sympathy or remorse for anything he does or any outcome he is responsible for. And no, it's not true that we are unable to develop sympathy or admiration for the wildly uncompassionate protagonist...we do it all the time in films, often empathizing with the villain. That's the beauty of great cinema. Sadly though, we leave the film a little trodden instead, defeated perhaps?
We suffered through this momentous journey with one of music's greatest pop chameleons.....and what do we get for it?
A sudden ending and not much to hold dear to our hearts, but, like i say, for the first 30 mins or so of beautiful film making, which I suppose is more than most films today can claim to possess.
Pfff...c'est la vie ay!

Tuesday 3 August 2010

UNFORGIVEN



Unforgiven, the last of the great great westerners they say.

Clint Eastwood's induction into the actor/director hall of fame.
It's grim and dirty, sparse and dusty, everything you want from a modern day western.
It feels like a Morricone score, looks like you're best nightmare and glows dimly like the remains of a distant campfire,

Eastwood plays the retired gunslinger, William 'Bill' Munny, who is mourning the death of his beloved and has since been struggling with his crops and two children. One day he is propositioned by a young cowboy who comes a riding from the distance, 'The Schofield Kid', who asks Munny to ride with him into the town of Big Whiskey where there is a bounty on the head of 2 cowboys who unjustly terrorised an innocent whore.

After brief consideration, he decides to take on this journey, along the way he pays visit to an old friend, Ned, who joins him for one last kill. Two retired, legendary cowboys taking to the plains and fields of Wyoming. Battling torrential rains, challenging landscapes and the rest.

They eventually arrive in Big Whiskey, faced with a tough crowd, predominantly in the form of the town sheriff Lil Bill, who takes joy it seems in kicking the shit out of anyone who dares walk his territory. And he does just that to Munny, who recovers in a barnyard near by until he can regain his strength. He is nursed back to health by the sweet young lady whose unfortunate fate has called him there in the first place.

She inevitably falls for the warm, handsome charm of Munny who does his darndest to protect and honour her, not just because he is seeking a reward, but because you genuinely believe he wishes to nurse her wounded spirit.

The finale is spectacular, it's so incredibly heroic you want to cry with the pull of every trigger and watchful glance courtesy of Eastwood. A piece of work which will undoubtedly go down in film history as one of the greats, regardless of time, space and genre.

Saturday 24 July 2010

SOME LIKE IT HOT



I love Marilyn.Honestly, I do.
Like any teenage girl, I had quite the film star crush on her. Posters on my wall, best-of collections, imitated pouts and purrs with my friends to get a giggle. But as a young gal there are elements of an actors performance and energy you will neglect to pick up on. Whilst watching Some Like it Hot tonight, in my darkened living room in east London, with a world of creative happenings behind me, I discovered a side of Marilyn I never had.
More so than anything, just how incredibly vulnerable she is, sad, brooding, lost puppy that she was. Of course knowing how her tragic fate unfolds, doesn't help. But whatever it was going on under those half open eyes of hers only helps Sugar Kane Kowalczyk, her slow, sultry character in what was to be one of the more charming and funny films of the decade.

Some Like it Hot is about 2 shmucky guys, Joe and Jerry, the struggling saxophonist and violinist who find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They witness a murder in Chicago and need to take shelter quick smart. The first escape route presented to them is a train headed to Miami with a big band, only problem is, they need to be women to play in the band, so naturally they find some wigs, jewels, frumpy outfits and jump aboard.



Fooling everyone, especially Sugar Cane, who instantly becomes the subject of 'Josephine's' utter infatuation. Meanwhile upon arriving in Miami, Jerry himself becomes the subject of a certain millionaire's infatuation, Osgood Fielding II.
They flirt, flutter and fight throughout.
Will Sugar cane figure out Joe's true identity? How long can Jerry fool the millionaire? Will the mobs find them? How many more times in this scene can Marilyn close her eyelids and then open them again ever so slowly?

It's a silly film really. Ridiculous, light hearted fun.

It's all capped off with the legendary scene where all four characters are en route to escaping the mobsters in a speed boat and in a desperate effort to deter his admirer, Jerry starts to list a hundred reasons as to why he, himself, is a less than perfect character.
Finally pulling his wig of to reveal his true identity as a man, to which Osgood plainly replies, "well, nobody's perfect".

Tuesday 20 July 2010

ALL ABOUT EVE



I absolutely loved this film.

Within the first 15 mins, one of my favourite film quotes to date had been coined, when they are describing the intoxicating spirit of its lead starlet, Eve Harrington: "the times moves with her".
And then there's: "I'm Addison DeWitt. I'm nobody's fool, least of all yours. "


Eve Harrington, (Anne Baxter) plays a crafty, young thing who weaves and manoeuvres herself into a very impressive circle of Broadway actors and directors. Including her mentor, stage star Margo Channing, played by the brilliant Bette Davis.

Yes, yes, we've all heard of Bette Davis, a divine film inspiration, marvelled universally for her acting prowess, revered by actors world-wide for her unparalleled performance. But have you ever really watched her in an entire film? Admired for her reserve of complex facial expressions and emotions. Well, I hadn't, until All About Eve.

She's dead funny, cool, high strung and manic.
Oddly attractive which just makes her more interesting really.
But i guess that's besides the point.

From a modern day perspective, All About Eve, not dissimilar to Sunset Boulevard, deals directly with the consequences of fame and fortune. The starvation for success, the inexplicable obsession and willingness we have to say anything, be anything, do just about anything and in some cases, everything, to acquire some level of universal recognition.
Keep in mind, in 1950, you were expected to be somewhat capable in some field of entertainment to access that recognition, as opposed to now, where you merely have to lift a manicured finger....well....in some cases, that's all you really have to do to manage a crowd.

So, here we have a very familiar circumstance, a cute blonde playing her cards perfectly, moving into Margo Channing's well oiled world, maids, midday martinis and friends on call 24/7 to remind her of how successful she is. Increasingly, Ms. Harrington becomes a big threat to Margo, questioning her own self belief. She deals with some very contemporary issues, our obsession with youth, fame, worth, success. Margo drowns her concerns to the tune of a sorrowful melody, dragging her very loyal, adoring partner and friends down with her.

They try to their best ability to pick her up, drawing her attention instead to the achievements she's acquired thus far.
It's not an abstract sentiment really, Margo once was and desperately still wants to be. Although how can she when the star-lit arrival of her younger protege, Eve, plays as a perpetual reminder of this. She is surrounded by starlets, all of which are younger and more beautiful. Of course it doesn't help that Marilyn Monroe makes a cameo as a ditzy, young wannabe, she is gorgeous and desperate, it is insinuated not very talented either. But none of that matters in Margo's increasingly hazy universe, all she recognises is what she does not have control over anymore, her youth, aesthetic and demeanour.


Fast forward to the end scene, we have the original fated star, Eve Harrington , tired, seemingly regretful and alone in her hotel room, or so she thinks, until she discovers, Phoebe, a complete stranger poking around uninvited. Phoebe, another young starlet, fresh of the conveyor belt, wide eyed and hopeful. Another broad with the same air of desperation and eagerness Eve herself had not so long ago.

And so it begins all over again.

Monday 19 July 2010

NORTH BY NORTHWEST







My second in the 100 film challenge is Alfred Hitchcock's, North by Northwest.

This film sets the standard for the smart, sassy, spy thriller.
Set in a highly stylised era of crisp suits, classy bars, breathtaking fashion, the martini crowd, whistling and wooing their way through a fast talking new age.

He, devastatingly handsome, she, hopelessly attractive, they meet on a 20th Century Limited train headed who knows where, who knows when.
All we do know thus far is that Cary Grant must escape a couple henchmen who mistake him for a Government agent by the name of Kaplan.
It feels about as cliche an introduction as any thriller you're likely to have seen, however, I have to keep reminding myself that this is an experimental format for the time. This is 1959, Hitchcock is inventing a genre, the very cool, spy escapade. We're talking years before the greatest Bond Films, decades before cop shows, award winning spy novels and so on.

It only helps that Cary Grant is painfully charming, it's hard to believe no one has sued George Clooney for performance plagiarism, were there such a thing. It was like hearing the original version of your favourite song, the one you never knew existed, you know that feeling, simultaneously disappointing as is intriguing. Clooney has borrowed every twitch, twinkle and mannerism he could hope to replicate from Grant.
Eva Marie Saint sets the standard for cool, icy blondes to date.
They sure don't make em like they used to.

When Grant recognises what danger he's gotten himself into, he sets out on a grand adventure of sorts. Racing automobiles, skipping trains, dodging planes, tracing footsteps, picking hotel locks, you get the drift. It's a magnificent journey to be on, the performances are entertaining and the story is seamless.
I keep thinking of Madmen the entire film, (and please tell me whoever you are, that you've at least seen the complete first series!?) you have the slick advertising exec and the perfect blonde, I'm certain the honcho's at Madmen turned to North by Northwest for some very specific inspiration. Look no further than Donald and Betty Draper........

Again, I don't wish to give away too much, but there is the inevitable climax, gun shots, cliffs hanging, a heroine in danger of her life and a small plane which may or may not take off into the night sky.
Nominated for 3 oscars at the time and countless other film awards, there is a perfectly good reason why North by Northwest stands the test of time. It's crafty, humorous, brilliant and all the while hopelessly good entertainment!

Thursday 15 July 2010

SUNSET BOULEVARD


My first of the '100 films' challenge is Sunset Boulevard. A noir-ish thriller, staring the mesmerising Gloria Swanson

In short, a fabulously creepy, over sexed, frightening old woman who lives in what appears an old haunted mansion, finds her long awaited solace in Joe Gillis, a grumpy and trouble ridden film writer, who out of desperation (running from debt collectors) drives in to her garage one night and ends up living there in what becomes a deranged and ultimately fatal relationship.

Mind you, if he had any sense about him in the first place, he would have considered the fact that he was initially invited into the mansion having been mistaken for an undertaker who was expected to bury Norma's monkey........o.k.......he might have left about that point, he didn't, instead sticking around for a stiff drink, in which case, i say he deserved a similar fate to that of the monkeys.

Gloria Swanson gives about as magnificent a performance as your ever likely to see in a film. She is whole heartedly pathetic and completely delusional as an ageing silent film star, who over the years has created a kind of permanent film set of her own within the very secure walls of her Hollywood fortress. Max, her ex husband, who is now her butler and confidant of sorts, plays a huge part in reinforcing this secret world of hers where she is still a major star, a coming attraction, the worlds greatest actress!

Gradually we figure out, as does Joe, that she is not and has not been for a very very long time now. At this point, he very quickly starts to 'put the car in reverse'. One night he successfully manages to escape Norma's claw and attends a friends party in town, it's there that he bumps into Betty Schaefer, the cutesy, all American blonde studio writer, who is clearly taken with Joe and subtly pursues him until they start collaborating on a script together. This, inevitably leads to a love affair and the gradual discovery of this affair by the mad old bitch back at the mansion.

To be fair, I wont unravel every detail just incase you end up seeing the film.
And in the very humble opinion of this amateurish film critic, I strongly recommend you do!

The final scene in Sunset Boulevard is spectacular, riveting, mesmerising, mad and brilliant.
Possibly the earliest and greatest film account of the stark raving lunacy in which intense stardom and success is capable of manifesting.

Just as relevant today, as was yesterday.

Monday 12 July 2010

THE LIST........









I adore films.

They have informed so much of how I exist in the world.
The way I think, the words I choose, the clothes I wear, the way I wear them, the dreams i have, the people I meet.
From the earliest age, I remember holding on to those hazy visuals as some kind of refuge.
The first films I fell in love with were The Labyrinth, Back to the Future, Heathers,The Breakfast Club and so on. A few years on I met a girl in high school who had the biggest crush on old glamour, ol' fashioned films, ol' fashioned stars, the ol' fashioned way.
She introduced me to the lot of them, Ingrid Bergman, Lauren Bacall, Humphrey Bogart, Clark Cable, Lana Turner. Mind you, I never saw all the films, it was more of an ideal we were attracted to. Posters on the wall, scarlet lipstick, dashing men. You get the drift.
Then there was my River Phoenix obsession, Film Noir, Elvis films, French New Wave, everything Luc Beeson, Woody Allen, Cheesy 80's la la la.....
Over the years I've been able to cull my list down to atleast 5 all time favourites, movies that make me feel that something, move me, inspire me, shake me. They are The Professional, Chinatown, Vivra Sa Vie, Pleasantville, Almost Famous, more recently, Let the Right Ones In, Anchorman, Donnie Darko, When You're Strange and La Vie En Rose.

It was an accidental stumbling upon the AFI's official list of what they consider to be the 100 greatest films of all time that has led me to this moment in time. The films, judged on a criteria considering "popularity over time", "critical acclaim", "cultural impact" and so on, helped to shape a fairly intimidating list of movies, most, of which, to my absolute horror, I have never actually seen. 23, is the exact number in fact, of the films I had seen on that list
Upon this humiliating realisation, I had decided to embark upon my own personal quest. Hence, 100 films in 100 days.
I do not promise to see a film a day, it may be 3 in one week, 3 in one day, nothing for a month, I'm a busy gal as I'm sure you are, its a dynamic time we live in and with all the distractions a town like London has to offer, this will in fact be a challenge.
Be it in between drinks, after hours or pre dawn, I will see each and every film on that list if it's the last thing i do!