On Cold War

A Polish folk music film that becomes an episodic, torturous, damaging love story that at times feels like a 50s style news reel and at other the French new wave. Cold War is exceptional. Quietly powerful, quietly unsettling and completely mesmerising.  

The film begins in Poland, at the close of the WWII as a folk music troupe is created to tour the country and the continent spreading a bucolic message of Poland. Success brings attention and soon the powerful begin to influence the routines as images of Stalin and songs of Poland’s strengths are embedded into the rural folk songs of its people’s history. There is a dangerous authority at work behind the scenes.

From Poland we go on to see Berlin and Paris, the latter shot to feel electric, with doorways and window frames offering vistas onto the perpetually moving city. Through one window, while our piano player rests, a woman moves around her apartment across the courtyard. It all feels so real. It is all shot so beautifully, the whole film is crisp black and white, a 4:3 aspect ratio enhancing the sensation of the past, yet also closing in the film’s damaged lovers. Life explodes around them, yet there is no escape for either. And they are magnetic. Film stars in the sense that one cannot look away. Their transformations are significant, but evolve organically and the episodic nature of the narrative never detracts from our attachment to these two. In fact, in enhances it as questions are left unanswered, investing us further into this world.

Cold War does so much, so well in such a short space of time. It is simply stunning filmmaking.

On Isle of Dogs

Computer animation, in its most popular realisation, exemplified by Pixar, Dreamworks Animation or Blue Sky Studios, dominates the animated film category. These films, while not looking identical, share a look and a feel which is far more similar than say Toy Story 3 (2010) does with Morph (1977 -). In fact, TV aimed at children, especially that provided on CBBC and CBeebies offers more variety in aesthetic than cinema aimed at children does. It is not that computer animated cinema such as the Pixar films or Dreamworks Animation films are bad (Zootropolis (2016) for example, is a very good film), but they are repetitive in style and mise-en-scene.

This is why Isle of Dogs, Anderson’s second feature length animation after Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) is such a welcome addition to the canon of films that feature children, are aimed at children, but have adult friendly elements. Isle of Dogs looks like no other mainstream kids film. Anderson’s trademark symmetry and wit are there, but the look, even more so than Fantastic Mr. Fox is superbly detailed and incredibly attractive. The level of detail here is phenomenal and contributes towards a level of complete immersion in this world that feels neither of the past, present or future, but of its own time and being. You would surely benefit from repeated viewings, but conversely, one viewing is very satisfying. It is an experience that is difficult to dislike. And, for a child, who has been brought up with a repetitive animated aesthetic, Isle of Dogs will feel like a unique viewing experience, without sacrificing humour, story or characters.

There have been charges of cultural appropriation aimed at it, but it doesn’t feel manipulative or disrespectful. It is a piece of work that is lovingly created and while it does draw on stereotypical images, there is care in how they are handled. There are few filmmakers who deal with issues of childhood (whether animated or not) with such respect and sensitivity and Isle of Dogs enriches the Anderson canon further in this direction.