
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
And I call myself a cinephile...
OK, not exactly a cinephile, but certainly someone who is reasonably well-versed in several genres of film and has a great love of it.
So how the hell did I not know that "The Rabbit Of Seville" (1950) was influenced by Charlie Chaplin's "The Great Dictator" (1940)?
Granted, I hadn't seen the film until tonight, so obviously if I had seen this:
it would've been pretty obvious that Chaplin had a direct influence on one of Bugs Bunny's greatest cartoons (sorry, the poor quality video below is all I could find):
There's even a later scene with two people (the dictators of Tomainia and Bacteria) trying to rise above each other in barber chairs.
I can forgive myself for not having seen the film (now rectified), but how did this particular aspect slide by me all these years?
What's particularly wonderful about Chaplin's scene (choreographed to Brahms' "Hungarian Dance No. 5") is that it is done entirely in one single shot. It's effective at building the humour throughout until it ends with those perfectly timed moves. There are plenty of moments like that in the film - subtle timing from Chaplin that just brings a big fat smile to your face. If his closing speech is anything but subtle (and doesn't quite serve the film as well as I felt it could have), it must've been quite amazing to see on the screen in 1940 with Hitler on the rise...
Monday, 4 July 2011
Another blogger babbles a bit about "Tree Of Life"

Does the film blogging world really need yet another post from someone who finds "The Tree Of Life" both confounding and enthralling and can't quite put their thoughts into cohesive words yet? No, it certainly doesn't. But why should that stop me? Do make sure you read Matt Zoller Seitz's article though - it's terrific. Meanwhile, some random thoughts:
- I've only seen it once, but will undoubtedly see it again in the theatre soon. My wife is eager to see it, so we'll see what we can swing over the next two weeks. I've been told by many that it "reveals" itself to you better on the second viewing...I suppose that's possible because during the first viewing I was too busy focusing on the pure visual beauty in front of me...Gorgeous beyond what I expected.
- The 20 minute "creation of the universe" segment was pretty spectacular indeed, but it's the "endless summer" sections that completely overwhelmed my senses. The scenes with the brothers playing were fantastic and so completely evocative of what I used to do as a kid.
- I've read some people's descriptions of the scene of the two dinosaurs being the first instance of "grace" or mercy since creation (ie. everything that preceded it was purely "nature"). I don't completely agree with that since I saw it as a precursor to the controlling hugs the father gave his boys (e.g. I have power over you), but I like the idea. And I like how the film allows you to find those ideas throughout it.
- Jessica Chastain's mother character floating in the air next to the tree was a perfect moment - how better for a son to remember his mother as angelic?
- Brad Pitt’s performance was superb. No, there wasn't a whole lot of dialogue, but I was sold on every loving yet controlling hug he gave his kids. Both the "hit me" scene and the blow up at the family dinner table reminded me of some fathers I had met when I was a kid (fortunately, not my own).
- The waves of waves - the crashing water, the fluid grass in the wind, the diving camera as it approached the characters (perhaps overused, but no less awesome).
- It wasn’t a perfect film for me by any means though…I never felt a sense of being connected to these people nor did I feel much emotional weight (except, as stated below, when we see the very young boys growing up). "Days Of Heaven" had that for me, but I didn’t get that here. I’m not sure why though...Was it too much of the opening universe coming into creation? The slightly affected whispering? The ending with Penn that didn’t do anything for me?
- I “think” I get a lot of the film’s intent – the struggle between nature and grace, loss of innocence, the doubling of those themes between the Waco family and the grander scheme of the universe, etc. all through the recollections of the older Jack during a particularly stressful point of his life – but I’m still not sure how I feel about how Malick put it together. Since he tends to find his films as he edits them, I couldn’t help thinking that he was still searching for “the film”.
- The most moving and emotional part of the film is without a doubt the early days of the children. The super close up of the baby lying on the ground is fantastic. I don’t know if anyone has ever shot a baby in that fashion before - being that up close, within the very short focal length of a baby’s vision, is where a parent’s face will usually be. The cradling of the foot. Young Jack's interaction with his new baby brother. Learning to walk. I know many films have documented those early stages of a child's life, but having the camera right THERE with the kids was remarkable.
- I love the feeling of movement the film creates. I really could watch this trailer all day long...
I'm very much looking forward to another viewing. If it doesn't all become crystal clear for me (which I don't really expect nor want), at least I can revel in the wonderful combination of images and music and let the film stir my own recollections.
Saturday, 2 July 2011
Monday, 27 June 2011
Cars 2
Re-posted from Rowthree.
Though filled with their typical beautiful animation and penchant for including a myriad of little touches and background jokes, Pixar's 2011 summer entry "Cars 2" is easily their least significant piece of work. It's not as horrible as many people expected (and even seemed to want it to be), but it doesn't feel like the same effort has gone into the story and characters as even their lesser films. There's a great deal of creativity here (in the details - particularly when they take their car society to other parts of the world), but for the most part it's flash and brash and gets bogged down with chase after chase after chase. The story isn't propelled by the characters this time around - and everything suffers as a result. There's some fun to be had, but not really a great deal of humour and not a speck of warmth.
The majority of the film is based around a conspiracy to ensure alternative fuel sources are ridiculed, oil and gas remain as the primary source of energy and that cars that were regarded as "lemons" (Gremlins, Yugos, etc.) get more respect. Through a World Grand Prix sponsored by the discoverer of a brand new clean source of fuel, Lightning McQueen and, primarily, his rusty sidekick Tow Mater become wrapped up in spy hijinks to prove that the conspiracy exists. This all provides the backdrop and impetus for a multitude of car chases topped by a barrage of weaponry. As mentioned, Larry The Cable Guy's voice takes centre stage when Tow Mater accidentally and unwittingly becomes involved in the spy efforts to bust open the criminal activities. As two agents try to fit the pieces together (voiced by Michael Caine and Emily Mortimer), they believe Mater to be their American contact. While they bounce through different corners of the globe meeting up with the 3 races of the World Grand Prix (in Japan, Italy and England), the spies close in on the cartel of dud cars who plan to control the world's gas supply and embarrass the top race cars while they're at it. Mater gets the lion's share of the action while Lightning McQueen simply battles an Italian F1 car and considers what his friendship to Mater really means to him. The rest of the "Gang" from Radiator Springs are shuffled to the sidelines and are only occasionally glimpsed throughout the movie.
Therefore, your mileage will depend heavily on how much Larry The Cable Guy you can take in one sitting (when things aren't blowing up that is). Speaking as someone who actually enjoyed the first film and has no major issues with Larry as a voice actor or even as a stand-up comedian, Mater wears thin as a compelling character pretty quickly. The plot gets moved forward by Mater continually doing something stupid or naive and even though he always shows he has a good heart (or should I say pistons?), there's little arc available for any of these characters. Short of a minor fight between McQueen and Mater, there's little to resolve for the denizens of Radiator Springs and so it's all up to the machinations of the spy plot to keep your interest. Each chase is clearly designed with great care and there's always something inventive going on, but there's simply nothing to latch onto except for spotting the details (the references to previous movies, character names, the kaleidoscope of colours, etc.). I smiled and chuckled occasionally, but not once did I laugh out loud. And, more importantly, neither did the two 10 year-olds I brought to the screening. Even after the film, neither of them spoke a single word about it - when asked, they said they liked it but did not proffer up any examples of why or relive any of the moments.
I can't quite get to the point of of accusing Pixar and Disney of being completely cynical by making an hour and fifty minute long toy commercial, but it probably wouldn't take a great deal or persuading since there is a definite lack of effort to build something original this time around. Lasseter obviously likes these creations and still has his boyish sense of fun, but he's lost (at least this time out) his adult radar for character-based humour that pulls you in and provides the deeper pleasure. Or perhaps just blinded by the shiny lure of residuals from the sales of little Tow Maters. Ka-ching!

Monday, 20 June 2011
One Of Those Moments - "Kes"

I posted the following on Rowthree as part of its Finite Focus series and thought it might fit nicely with my own "One Of Those Moments" posts.
Suppose a man has a hundred sheep. lf one of them strays, does he not leave the other 99 on the hillside and go in search of the one that strayed? And if he should find it, I tell you this, he is more delighted over that sheep than over the 99 that never strayed.
The bible passage above, as spoken by a young girl at a school assembly in Ken Loach’s magnificent film Kes, is pretty straightforward in its message: embrace those who are different and who wander away from the expected. It’s a shame none of the adults in the movie actually pay attention to it and quite ironic that they spend a great deal of the time bemoaning how “these kids” never listen.
Every single adult – parent, teacher, boss, social servant, etc. – appears to obstruct the children from pursuing their own paths. They berate them constantly, push them towards the same dull existences they were forced into and seem to demean them at every turn. The assembly scene is a precursor to the school’s principal admonishing a group of boys (most of them innocent) for various “crimes” and, before caning them, essentially telling them all that they are worthless and that it is pointless for him to even try talking to them since they never listen. It’s comical, yet very sad due to the very realistic style of the movie and the picture it paints of the working class of 1960s England.
It’s the scene that follows this, though, that is one of my favourites of the film and one that shows that you can occasionally find hope (even if at some point it may be dashed) in dire circumstances. The titular character of the film is actually a falcon (a kestrel to be precise), but it is his owner, the young schoolboy Billy Casper, that is the focus. Picked on by just about everyone and having just come from his own caning (simply for having fallen asleep at the assembly due to his early morning chores), Billy is pulled into his class’ discussion about “Fact And Fiction”. His teacher Mr. Farthing is asking students to define what a fact is and to tell the class a factual story or event that occurred to them. Catching Billy not paying attention, he singles him out and appears to be yet another adult trying to assert his control.
You’re going to tell us a story about yourself.
I don’t know any sir.
His classmates, fearing they will all suffer if he can’t come up with a story, inform the teacher about the hawk. Gradually, Mr. Farthing coaxes out the details of the bird, Billy’s care of it and what he has done to train it.
Are you gonna tell us about it? How have you trained your hawk?


Billy begins to open up as Mr. Farthing has him come to the front of the class and write on the board some of the terms he uses when describing the training methods (“jesses”, “swivel”, “leash”). It’s at this point that you realize his teacher is different – he sees a light in Billy, he knows he’s different and he’s trying to find a way in to encourage him. While the class listens quite attentively (they even ask questions) to his gradual training methods and how he would slowly expand the distance his feathered (but tethered) friend had to fly to his food, Billy begins to describe the most exciting facet – the first free flight he allowed Kes. In a breathless tone that only young kids can really get away with without appearing to be overly dramatic or succumbing to exaggeration, Billy keeps his audience (both the class and the viewers) on pins and needles as he describes how he “were terrified” to let Kes roam free. After putting it off for awhile, he got mad at himself and realized that he had to just let Kes go and see what happened. He follows this thought with a wonderful tale of the first flight:
I saw her flying. She came like a bomb. About a yard off the floor, like lightning, head still, and you couldn’t hear t’ wings. There weren’t a sound from the wings – and straight onto the glove – Wham! And she grabbed me for t’ meat.
Billy finishes by saying “I trained her sir and that were all I could do”. There’s no posturing, no great big grin to his classmates, no great finale. He finishes with more of a whisper than anything. It’s all a sharp contrast to pretty much everyone we’ve seen previously – in particular, his bullying physical education teacher (who boasts of his soccer skills and punishes Billy for letting a goal in). It’s a terrific scene that puts a smile on your face and grants some possibilities for Billy. A later scene which shows Mr. Farthing watching Billy fly Kes and then joining him in the bird’s shed is equally as wonderful. Kes is beautiful – just as gorgeous sitting on a perch as he is in full flight. As Farthing says, it’s almost as if we have an instinct to give it respect.
However, this is 60s working class England and Loach doesn’t want to leave you with too much hope…The very next scene after Billy’s classroom tale has a much larger boy taunt him in the schoolyard which leads to a fight between the two – it’s as if the kids realized he had an upper hand on them. Billy actually had something he was good at, enjoyed and made him happy. How dare he. He had to be reigned in, controlled and brought right back down into the mud and filth (they end up fighting in a pile of coal). Just like the rest of the adults treat him. Sobering, but a truly fantastic telling of a great story.

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