On Captain Phillips

From his first feature in 2002, Bloody Sunday, Paul Greengrass has been a director willing to challenge dominant political ideologies, especially in his adopted USA. His two contributions to the continuing Jason Bourne narrative, The Bourne Supremacy (2004) and The Bourne Ultimatum (2007) are critical of America’s foreign and domestic approach to terrorism, as is Green Zone (2010). All three of those films were unafraid to ask questions of how America has gone about protecting itself against terrorism and defending their interests abroad. Bloody Sunday, perhaps Greengrass’ most challenging film, deals with the Irish Civil rights movement and the violence that surrounded it. Again, an explicitly political film. Without going into much detail on these films, this is simply to say that Greengrass, building on his journalistic routes, is unafraid to create critical, demanding pieces of cinema.

United 93 (2006) and the recently released Captain Phillips see changes to this trend. Captain Phillips, like United 93 focuses on an act of terrorism against America. The former addressed such a powerfully emotive event that Greengrass chose, wisely, to tell a very intimate story surrounding 9/11. United 93 doesn’t directly address the issue of the terrorists and instead tells a story of bravery. In this way it is an understandably patriotic film. Five years was not long enough to criticise or question events surrounding 9/11 and it took a few more years for films like Zero Dark Thirty (2012) to explicitly question America’s tactics surrounding 9/11.

More than being patriotic, Captain Phillips is jingoistic and Greengrass’ most one-sided film. This is less understandable than in his treatment of 9/11. Many audiences outside of America will be unfamiliar with the story. Unusually, we are shown the Somali pirates as more than just one-dimensional terrorists, but their representation is untidy; uncertain, unorganised and fractured as oppose to the determined, professional and tactically astute Americans. The message is not subtle (an incredibly blunt and embarrassing piece of dialogue early on supports this); America is a dominant world power and any provocation toward them will be impassively dealt with. While these may be accurate representations when dealing with Somali piracy, it does not hide the fact that this is Greengrass’ least provocative film.

Yet, the filmmaking on display here is impressive. The direction is confident and technically astounding. There are shots of immense claustrophobia and some of real beauty. The tracking shot that follows the Navy SEALS from the air to the sea is stirring. Tom Hanks, surrounded largely by a cast new to acting is remarkable; his performance throughout is flawless and the final scene, whether you find the jingoism grating or not, is emotionally draining and shows the power that Hanks possesses as an actor. Greengrass’ talents as a director are only getting sharper, but Captain Phillips perhaps displays a dulling in his political energy. 

On Filth

A film that breaks the fourth wall, deals with cross dressing and racism, extreme sexual acts and excessive drug taking all carried out by a bi-polar protagonist needs to be audacious. And Filth is exactly that. The links to Trainspotting (1996) a film adapted by the same author that wrote the source text to Filth, Irvine Welsh, are clear. Both deal in the underbelly of Scotland, examining its drug scene in explicit detail. Filth is a difficult film; its narrative hangs by a thread that loosens as it progresses, struggling to balance the numerous directions in which a bi-polar character will take an audience. Yet challenging cinema should be difficult and the audience should be made to work and here they are, with a conclusion that is as emotionally taxing as the rest of the film is cocky. This is all held together by a performance by James McAvoy that, despite the unpredictability, is impossible to ignore; he owns every scene he is in, and that is most of them. Filth may not have the self-assurance in its ability as a film that Trainspotting had and the earlier film is a more successful adaptation, but it’s never less than fun. 

On Prisoners

In 2011 the Denis Villeneuve directed Incendies was released (see June 29^th 2011) and was essential viewing. Two years later he has followed this overtly political film with something more covertly political, but equally as essential.

Prisoners is the story of child abduction in a small American town and the consequences this reaps on the families, the suspects and the police involved. Writer Aaron Guzikowski deserves huge credit for weaving this multi strand narrative together without dropping a beat; it’s never less than gripping. The acting from the two leads (Hugh Jackman and Jake Gyllenhaal) is impeccable and they seem made for these roles, which seem they could have been written for anyone.

On the surface, Prisoners is a thriller of high quality, yet like Gyllenhaal’s earlier film, Zodiac (2007) there are shades of horror throughout and the eeriness of the film lingers long after the credits. Under the surface, Prisoners is a commentary on a Post 9/11 America; an America in a war on terror and an America under Republican rule, where ordinary citizens are taking up arms against their own individual wars. Extreme measures are taken by Jackman’s desperate father that draws direct links with questions of torture that have dogged American presidents for years. Guilt and accountability are qualities we should not easily assign, and Prisoners has the intelligence to comment on this without losing its mass audience appeal. 

On Blue Jasmine

There is something decidedly dark about Woody Allen’s latest film, Blue Jasmine much more than one usually associates with the anxious ridden, often whimsical Allen. In relation to his latest pieces of cinema, Blue Jasmine is more Vicky Christina Barcelona (2008) than Midnight in Paris (2011). And this is no criticism; it simply speaks of the director’s mercuriality and knowledge of film.

Blue Jasmine is more than a film about insecurities in adult relationships (for which Allen has perfected the formula); it is a film that traces the breakdown of its protagonist, Jasmine. A breakdown as complete as that of Curtis in Take Shelter (2011) although not as reliant on horror conventions. Like Take Shelter, Blue Jasmine’s brilliance has at its visual centre an actor in a performance that could define their career. As Jasmine, Cate Blanchett is faultless. For an actor of such recognition to disappear entirely into a role is rare. And this is not an easy role. Jasmine is a mess; she switches from charming defensive to socialite to insecure with layers of psychological collapse. Jasmine’s desperate attempt to cling to a life that was never even real manages to be both pathetic and heart breaking. Blue Jasmine is arresting cinema.  

Of course the success of this film is more than one person. Allen’s direction and writing, as always is secure and distinctive. The supporting cast do exactly as needed and despite a few moments of questionable serendipity, Blue Jasmine is Allen at his best.