On the Top Ten for 2010

2009 was a strong year for cinema. Great films such as An Education, Synecdoche, New York and Public Enemies gave way to break though science fiction (Moon), break through technology (Avatar) and simply breathtaking cinema (The White Ribbon). We have not been as spoilt for choice in 2010. While it is possible to assemble a top ten for 2010, the list of those that just missed the cut is not nearly as long as last year’s.

To select the number one has also been much harder, with at least three pushing hard for contention. Although there is a runaway worst film of the year and that honour goes to Sylvester Stallone’s The Expendables. But back to the best and those that almost made it. John Hillcoat’s The Road gave us as a bleak a vision of the future as we’ve seen, but failed to convey the same power of loss as Cormac McCarthy’s excellent book on which it is based. Tom Ford’s A Single Man suffered a similar fate to Sophia Coppola’s Somewhere; wonderful to look at and fantastically acted, but lacking emotion to make the character relatable. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Niels Arden Oplev), Green Zone (Paul Greengrass) and The Town (Ben Affleck) were all fantastic, fast paced thrillers that only narrowly missed out. Special mention must go to the rerelease and digitally re-mastered Metropolis (Fritz Lang, 1927), or as it has become known, The Complete Metropolis. Completed with recently found footage from Argentina and magnificently cleaned up and put together, this classic of cinema has never been as complete, entertaining or as accessible.

So, the top ten for 2010 goes as follows;

A Prophet (dir. Jacques Audiard)

Shutter Island (dir. Martin Scorsese)

Up in the Air (dir. Jason Reitman)

Monsters (dir. Gareth Edwards)

The Social Network (dir. David Fincher)

Toy Story 3 (dir. Lee Unkrich)

Inception (dir. Christopher Nolan)

The Secret in their Eyes (dir. Juan Jose Campanella)

White Material (dir. Claire Denis)

Four Lions (dir. Christopher Morris)

With the exception of Toy Story 3 and Four Lions, 2010 has been a bad year for levity with the list primarily made up of serious, adult orientated films (Four Lions is also based on very serious issues, but the comedy cannot be ignored). Existentialism seems the theme of the year with Shutter Island and Inception (which compliment each other brilliantly and highlight DiCaprio as one of the finest American actors working) leading the way. Up in the Air was the first adult orientated romantic-comedy in years to deal with mature issues of identity crisis and with an incredibly prescient message. Even Toy Story 3 looked at questions of identity and what it means when you feel your reason in life has been taken away.

White Material’s lack of national identity made it a powerful statement on the politically stability of sub-Saharan Africa with a memorable leading performance by Isabelle Huppert. Again, looking at identity and belonging is the film that tops the list. A Prophet (a film that made it on Sight & Sound’s top 10 of 2009 and 2010 due to different release dates) brought style and grit in equal measure to the prison genre and deserves multiple viewings to really absorb its brilliance. See http://www.altfg.com/blog/movie/sight-and-sound-top-ten-films-2010-the-illusionist/ for Sight & Sound’s much revered list.

On the Trappings of Luxury in Somewhere

Sofia Coppola is a child of opulence and her four feature films have in some way reflected the lives of people that want for nothing and therefore could all be partly biographical. In fact Coppola has claimed that Somewhere, her fourth feature, is partly based on experiences of her childhood, living in hotels and being surrounded by the fantasy of the film industry. Somewhere follows Johnny Marco, a famous Hollywood actor who is in between jobs. Johnny’s 11 year old daughter pays an unexpected extended visit that slightly changes the way Johnny would live, but not by any great degree. Otherwise, what we get in Somewhere is a glimpse of the day to day life of an famous out of work actor. The mundane (breaking down in the car) to the exciting (have a head mould taken).

Somewhere is a patchy film. It is at times effortless, eluding an almost documentary like realism and naturalism in the acting. This is thanks to Coppola’s still camera which lets us watch, sometimes too long, without any interference. These effortless scenes occur most often when Johnny’s daughter takes centre stage. Elsewhere Somewhere feels too forced; Johnny falling asleep while sleeping with a girl; Johnny sat, silently, drinking beer or racing his sports car for several minutes. We know we are meant to feel sympathy for Johnny’s existential concerns, but the problem is it is very difficult to feel sympathy or empathy for a character that has more than his fair share of luxuries. This is a problem which dogs the whole film and has dogged all films that attempt to show us the difficulties of celebrity. So, when Johnny breaks down and cries to his ex-wife that he is a shell of a man, we understand the meaning and know what Coppola wants us to feel, but cannot help feeling that this is just the melodramatic whining of an actor.

This is an unfortunate thing to feel because there is no sense in it. Celebrities, regardless of how much money they have and how much luxury they are exposed to, are perfectly entitled to suffer emotionally and mentally. The struggle is communicating this in a relatable way. Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard (1950) achieves this, but then Norma Desmond was a film star who had already faded. Johnny Marco is at the peak of his fame. Somewhere, a beautifully shot and acted film, cannot quite reach the levels of significance it strives for as it just can’t shake the fact that the opulence, in this case, is not a trap, but a blessing.

On Something Special in Monsters

Hype is an erratic and volatile creature within the film industry. It is mostly created by the producers to sell their film. Sometimes this is done with some creativity and in a way which seems like the hype is generated by the public and therefore more genuine (The Blair Witch Project (1999), Cloverfield (2008)). More often than not the hype is generated by adverts and trailers full of the empty rhetoric that bad film critics live on. It is therefore wise to always approach a film objectively, difficult as that may be. Occasionally the hype is warranted and even more occasionally, the film surpasses the hype. This tends to occur when a film is considered art house and trailers and reviews are aimed at a smaller audience (The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007), Atonement (2007)). With Monsters there didn’t seem time for hype. There was a trailer that misrepresented the film to draw in the audiences and by the time reviews were published the film was due to be released. There was no festival circuit or word of mouth from America. There were simply a few good reviews to suggest this was something more than a monster film.

This is more than a monster film. It is also more than a road movie or a love story, both of which could be its primary genres. Monsters follows a photojournalist and his bosses daughter as they travel through the infected zone during ‘the season’ to get back to America. The season refers to the time of year when the creatures that inhabit the infected zone (giant land octopuses) are more active and therefore travelling through the zone is more dangerous. What follows is a story told with a mix of beautiful documentary style realism and stunning cinematic camerawork all carried by two relatable and engaging characters. This is a film rooted in the tradition of storytelling. The issue of the monsters is inconsequential; they appear infrequently, but appropriately. This is a film propelled by the characters and only progresses organically. The monsters or the threat of the monsters is always present (road signs, children’s cartoons or destruction is shown subtlety to remind us of the change in culture), but we never wait for their appearance or grow restless for action. The relationship between the two characters is so interesting that we are wholly engaged in their lives. This is helped considerably by two brilliant performances from relatively unknown actors.

Subtlety is a key word when discussing Monsters. Much is implied and the payoff is fantastically constructed and rewarding. The performances are as much about what isn’t said than what is and the direction is creative without being flashy. Monsters is one of the highlights of the year and combines science fiction, horror, romance and road movie conventions without putting a foot wrong.

On the Use of Sound in The American

This quiet existential character driven drama was marketed as an action thriller in America to bring in the crowds and to give credit where it is due, it was a financially successful move as it opened at number one. Yet this is far from accurate advertising. The American has little action and few thrills. Instead, what it has in abundance is atmosphere. As expected this is achieved through photographer turned director Anton Corbijn’s use of light and framing; he brought the same sense of atmosphere to his first feature, Control (2007). Another technical tool The American uses to its credit is sound.

The gentle piano score, the echoes of footsteps around the claustrophobic Italian village, the silence, are all used to great effect to build tension. There are many scenes of the American watching the passing village life, or observing those he suspects. These scenes are accompanied by quiet background noise or none at all and further suggest his loneliness is a product of a self imposed isolation. After all, he chose this life and as we see earlier, becoming close to people is not a skill he possesses. The narrow cobbled streets exacerbate all the sound that passes over them. Where an American thriller would have required fast paced music to build the tension, The American relies on a steady beat of footsteps, followed by silence to achieve the same effect.

The use of sound is highlighted even more by the lack of dialogue. Clooney’s protagonist, Jack, is a taciturn man who rarely starts a conversation and contributes little when in one. Surprisingly, when there is dialogue it falls flat and seems incongruous with the film, which is far more like a nouvelle vague character piece, than an action thriller staring one of America’s most popular actors. The American is far from perfect. In addition to the flat dialogue, the surrounding characters feel too one dimensional (with the exception of Clara who’s presence is always welcome). Yet the technical aspects of this film are to be admired and the careful employment of sound (including silence) illustrates how less can be more when used intelligently.

On Looking at Skyline from a Different Perspective

So, you’re an alien who likes to eat brains. You and your alien pals have travelled the universe eating brains and you come across this little planet called Earth. You do your research and realise that these ‘humans’ need their brains (although not for making Skyline) and aren’t going to give them up easily, so you decide to invade. Using your clever light/tractor beam technology and advanced weaponry you attack Los Angeles. Initially you’re all really successful and eat loads of brains, but then the pesky army attack and blow up your mother ship! So now you’ve got to use a lot of energy to rebuild your ship, which makes your carbon footprint huge. You like to eat brains sure, but you still care about the environment. Anyway, you rebuild your ship and suck up a load more humans, decapitate them and eat their brains. Remember to recycle their bodies.

But wait, what’s this; your alien pal has just eaten a brain that looked a little off. The others were all blue and this one was redder. Damn, you know what happened; he’s eaten the brain of someone who’s survived several attacks and has absorbed some of your alien powers and now his brain’s all weird and stuff and tastes like pumpkin. Now your alien pal has taken on the characteristics of the human whose brain he just ate. This is messed up. There’s nothing you can do, so you just watch as he hears the screams of his pregnant girlfriend who is about to get decapitated and kill the alien about to eat her. This is going to be a pain in the ass when you have to explain this to human resources. What’s this? It looks like his human girlfriend can recognise him; he’s stroking her pregnant stomach! This is getting really weird. We better end it here and not explain what happens next...

Take Independence Day (1996), War of the Worlds (2005) and District 9 (2009). Remove any talent, especially acting and writing and what do you get...Skyline.

On the Horror Codes of Let the Right One In

What does Let the Right One In tell us about vampire films? Many of the expected conventions of vampire films are present in this minimal, Swedish horror film, but director Tomas Alfredson presents them in such a way that Let the Right One In is an extremely original vampire films.

Fangs, crucifixes and garlic are all absent, but drinking blood, heightened strength and fear of daylight are all present. So why is Let the Right One In so special? Firstly it reverses our expectations of good and evil by defying our expectations of who is good and who is evil. Eli, the vampire, is a 12 year old girl who does not think twice about brutally attacking someone for their blood or sending out her daylight protector to cut the throat of an unsuspecting by passer. Yet when Eli meets Oskar an unexpected relationship emerges as the main story thread of the film. After the death of her daylight protector, Eli befriends Oskar to the point where she can admit her true identity to him without losing his friendship.

Oskar, also 12, is from a broken home and is bullied and violently abused by older students at school. Eli not only gives him the confidence to fight back, but also the protection he needs when he needs it. Oskar treats Eli like a girlfriend and a confidant after she is left alone. That their romance becomes so appealing and endearing is a feature that confuses any categorisation of Let the Right One In, but at the same time, makes it such a beautiful and touching film.

Despite its lack of ‘jumpy’ horror moments and its abundance of stylish cinematography and deftness in direction, Let the Right One In is horrific. A young boy hung from a tree and bled; a bite victim combusting; the distorted face of a self mutilated acid victim. Yet, the most horrific scene is left till the end. What we thought was a genuine relationship between two lost souls suddenly takes a sinister turn as Oskar runs away from home and becomes Eli’s new daytime protector. There is now the suggestion that Eli is grooming Oskar to take the role of the man she lost. As she is much older than she appears, it is perfectly reasonable that she met her last protector at a young age and befriended him until he was attached to her, just like Oskar is now. When we remember that Eli drank the blood of her last protector after the police caught him (no one can be a serial killer for ever), we suddenly see Oskar’s future as being in jeopardy and this beautiful film ends with a genuine moment of darkness, during the daylight.

Let the Right One In knows its place is amongst the horror genre and presents enough of the conventions to earn its classification. But the film’s unwillingness to be placed alongside every other vampire film has meant the bar has been raised for creating new and interesting ways to represent the vampire in film.

On the Brilliance of Shutter Island

“Which would be worse; to live as a monster, or die as a good man?” This is one of the last lines that Leonardo DiCaprio’s Teddy Daniels speaks in Martin Scorsese’s Shutter Island (2010), right before he voluntarily walks away to be lobotomised. However, the meaning of this line is open to interpretation and that interpretation differs depending on whether this is the first or second viewing of the film.

Cultural theorist Stuart Hall determined three ways in which we absorb visual texts, such as film. These are the dominant-hegemonic reading, the negotiated reading and the oppositional reading. The majority of people will always absorb visual images as a negotiated reading; this means that they naturally complete a process of acceptance and rejection and can enjoy the visual images, in this case a film, but become a maker of their own meaning, rather than being influenced. This is of course possible with Shutter Island, but for certain viewers, after a second viewing, the film can exist of two very clear levels that fit in with Hall’s dominant-hegemonic and oppositional readings.

Shutter Island follows US Marshall Teddy Daniels and his partner Chuck as they investigate a missing person’s case on Shutter Island, the home of a hospital for the criminally insane. Daniels has an ulterior motive for taking the case as it is revealed that the arsonist who killed his wife is a patient and the House Un-American Activities Committees is investigating the hospital for its communist leanings and experiments. Daniels is still suffering with the loss of his wife and cannot move on, but wants to shut the hospital down. Added to this is Daniels’ own issues with his violent past; he was a soldier in the first wave at the concentration camp Dachau and murdered Nazi soldiers. A series of events lead Daniels to a lighthouse where he believes the experiments are taking place and it is here that the reveal is presented. Everyone on the island, including Chuck, has been playing a role, ensuring the Daniels is drawn closer and closer to discovering the ‘truth’ and takes himself to the lighthouse. Not unlike the residents in The Wicker Man (1973). Here Daniels discovers that this elaborate role play is a last resort to prevent him being lobotomised. Daniels, real name Andrew, has been a patient for two years because he murdered his wife after she drowned their children. Unable to accept the death of his children or the murder of the women he loves, he created his own reasons for being in the hospital; he is a US Marshall uncovering a communist conspiracy.

Dicaprio’s performance is so intense and emotionally powerful that we want to believe him and this is one of the many skills in the direction. Our first reading could very easily be the oppositional one. When the role play is revealed and we think back, everything points to the ‘truth’ being that of the role play, but Dicaprio draws us into his world so fully that we are with him every step of the way and to accept defeat is difficult. Therefore, when Daniels/Andrew complies with the doctors at the end we are shocked. But does that final line show an awareness he would not have if he had accepted the truth? With the oppositional reading it would follow that this line indicates he has accepted that getting off the island is impossible, but that he is holding onto his own sanity and his own beliefs and is willing to die as a good and right man, than live in the hospital with everyone believing he is a murderer.

Watching the film a second time, with the knowledge of the role play, reveals the brilliance of the script and the direction. Every second line, every glance between characters supports the idea that Daniels is in the middle of an elaborate role play. A dystopian version of The Truman Show (1998). With a first viewing such lines and interactions between the characters seem innocent. That Scorsese and writer Laeta Kalogridis have created such a layered film with two clear readings, one of which is hidden, is a testament to the work that has gone into Shutter Island and makes it Scorsese’s most complete film in years. With a second viewing it is difficult to see Daniels as the renegade US Marshall and everything points towards the idea that he is a patient – the dominant reading. Therefore, at the end he has accepted his true identity and now he knows the truth he cannot live with the memory of what has happened; he cannot live knowing what he has done. However, this being Scorsese, a master of his craft, there remains just a few indications that point to the opposite, to those of us who want the conspiracy to be true, who want Daniels to be right. Shutter Island is one of the best horror/thriller films to come out of America is a long time.

On David Fincher's Status as a Director

David Fincher has always been interested in complex male characters. Since 1995 and Seven, his first film which really cemented his style, Fincher has given us a canon of films with similar male leads (the exception being Panic Room (2002)). The serial killer in Seven (1995), Michael Douglas’ suicidal magnate in The Game (1997), Brad Pitt and Edward Norton’s anarchists in Fight Club, Jake Gyllenhaal’s determined reporter in Zodiac (2007) and Pitt’s age defying Benjamin Button. All these characters occupy dark worlds; worlds of danger and death. Additionally, they occupy real, recognisable worlds that are being manipulated by a force greater than can be comprehended. Jodie Foster in Panic Room must deal with the confinement of the room, forced upon her by the threat of three home intruders. Fincher is also occupied by the tangible threat of time, or more specifically, running out of time. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008) is Fincher’s first foray into fantasy and exemplifies this perfectly as Benjamin is constantly running from time, from which he’ll never escape.

Fincher’s latest film brings together all of his idiosyncrasies in a world less familiar than his others. The Social Network is the story of Mark Zuckerberg and the creation of Facebook. This is therefore not only Fincher’s most contemporary film, but one that is also the most relevant film that exists as its history is not only the immediate past, but also the immediate present and the changing future. The film’s accuracy will always be debatable, but what Fincher gives us is a fascinating insight into the world of a computer genius who changes the world and those who try to ride along with him. Like the serial killers of Seven and Zodiac and the anarchists of Fight Club, Zuckerberg changes the world around him in a way very different, but just as immediate as killing someone. In one hour, the film tells us, Zuckerberg receives 22,000 hits on an early version of Facebook and crashes the Harvard database. Despite the law suits, the loss of friends and the insults, the only threat Zuckerberg feels is that of time, as he fights to keep Facebook relevant and cool.

There is much to admire in The Social Network and the relevance of the film to our changing online world, makes it all the more interesting.

On the Composition of Bright Star

There are few films as effortlessly beautiful as Jane Campion’s Bright Star (2009) the story of John Keats’ romance with Fanny Brawne. The romance, like all great romances is tragic, and Campion realises that the power in this story lies in her skill behind the camera, not in changing a classic narrative formula. Everything about Campion’s mise-en-scene compliments the story; the characters’ costumes reflect the seasons and their emotions and reflect Fanny’s trade as a seamstress. The framing of every scene recalls images of traditional painting and the same care has been taken here by Campion that Jean-Pierre Jeunet took with Amelie (2001), but without the syrupy colour addition. The score by Mark Bradshaw feels so relevant it speaks volumes about the characters while they say nothing. Campion’s direction is pitch perfect and the two leads (Abbie Cornish and Ben Whinshaw) turn in subtle, but powerful performances. Cornish is a revelation and her Fanny Brawne is strong and independent in a decidedly male time period, yet at the same time vulnerable; her reaction when she hears of Keats’ death is as powerful as any other portrayal of grief. At the heart of Bright Star, along with the romance is the poetry. Keat’s work is recited regularly throughout the film and other poets’ work is discussed. Knowledge of poetry, especially the meanings behind Keats’, would no doubt make Bright Star an even more enriching experience. However, without that, this remains one of the standout romantic films and a near perfect representation of a director at the top of her game.

On Ben Affleck's The Town

As an actor, Ben Affleck has been often criticised. This seems to have happened in the early part of the decade, but has tarnished his career. In 2007 Affleck changed his approach and wrote and directed the excellent Gone, Baby Gone, set in working class Boston. Back in the same neighbourhood, he now offers bank robber thriller, The Town.

The Town follows a group of career criminals in Charlestown of which Affleck’s character is the boss. After Affleck begins dating a bank manager they took hostage (they wear masks so she doesn’t know), serious strain pushes the crew and tensions build.

The Town is more hit and miss than Gone, Baby Gone, but does hit more than it misses. Affleck’s knowledge of the area adds a sense of authenticity to the film and the robberies evoke those of Heat (1995). The set pieces are genuinely exciting, especially one involving nuns. Where the film struggles is in the relationships between the main characters. Affleck and his bank manager girlfriend and between his old friend, Jim. At times they feel inconsistent and unbelievable, yet the acting remains impressive from all involved. The Town is a good companion piece to Scorsese’s The Departed (2006), both focusing on career criminals in what is always a fascinating on-screen setting. New Jersey has the same effect of being instantly attention grabbing.

The Town juggles a lot of balls and is unable to keep them all in the air, all the time. As a director though, Affleck is two for two.

On the Starkness of Winter's Bone

Winter’s Bone is a stark film. The story is bleak and mostly depressing. The character’s lives are harsh and carved out of a severe landscape; the Ozark region of Missouri. In this small, impoverished community drugs are the business and clannish law is followed at punishment of death. 17 year old Ree’s father has missed his court date after putting the family property up for his bail. With her mother too ill to help, Ree must raise two young children and find her father.

Winter’s Bone is the opposite of melodramatic. There are several angles into which the film could turn (drug story, missing person’s thriller, horror), but it resists these temptations and opts always for brutal realism. The problem with this is that the film is so stripped to the bone that unless you completely invest in the story and the characters from the very beginning, then it can be hard going. This is a problem that The Wrestler (2008) suffered from. Both films share much in common; they follow a protagonist struggling to keep their life together under enormous pressure. Both also present a view of America we rarely see. The unpolished areas. The realism of the country where tourism doesn’t reach. Yet, because both reject melodrama, their lead characters are vey low-key and also, in many ways, clichéd. They are simply stripped down clichés.

Winter’s Bone is a very well made film and its dedication to its subject matter and the realism of the environment is commendable. It feels longer than its 100 minutes and at times almost documentary like, yet it remains compelling and at times shocking throughout.