On Looking Back with Nebraska

Thematically, Nebraska is about America looking back and it is therefore fitting that stylistically, it is shot in black and white. Alexander Payne’s film follows OAP Woody Grant a man in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, trying to reach Lincoln Nebraska to claim $1,000,000 from a marketing company. A $1,000,000 everybody but Woody knows is a myth.

To reach Lincoln, Woody embarks on a road trip with his son and is joined by the majority of his close and extended family as he nears his destination. The idea of the American dream being a myth has often been explored, yet its current examination is prescient.

The heart of America is being ripped out by a failing economy and growing inequality and it is in America’s heart that we find ourselves with Nebraska. Payne fills his frames with sparsity. From the crossroads towns with a bank, a couple of bars, a garage and a car rolling through to the vast, unmanned spaces of America’s farmlands; still standing, but no longer being worked. Lincoln is the biggest place we visit and even this feels devoid of life. Only the interiors of Woody’s family homes are full of vivacity as Payne reminds us that the work may have gone, but the heart of the people endures.

Amongst all this looking back (searching for a more secure time?), Woody insists on going forward. From the first scene where a police officer asks him where he’s going and Woody points forward he never defers from this path. At first we may believe Woody’s perpetual motion to be blind trust, but even when he discovers the myth and accepts it in his taciturn manner, Woody still moves forward; he realises the past is gone and the present is difficult. Woody simply wants to leave something for his children. Is Woody the modern middle American, screwed by big business but remaining resilient? Whether Woody is evocative of the current economic problems in America (an issue referred to explicitly once) or whether the whole narrative is suggestive of the greed and unfortunate naivety of different sets of Americans is up for debate. Either way, Nebraska remains a beautiful and touching piece of cinema.

On Blue is the Warmest Colour

That there are no good roles for women in Hollywood used to be a far more ubiquitous statement than it is now. In Europe, female actors have probably always faired a little better. That women in film exist purely to be sexualised was a far more common theory than it is now, one most popularly proposed by Laura Mulvey as the Male Gaze. In Blue is the Warmest Colour we are witness to two of the most powerful and engaging performances from two young female actors; newcomer and protagonist Adele Exarchopoulos and the slightly more experienced Lea Seydoux. But does the film, so focused on the lives of women, do anything to advance the idea of women as purely symbols for male objectification? And was it even attempting to?

The ferocity with which these two actors undertake their roles is astonishing and it is the performances that on first viewing make the film such a powerful experience. The director and writer Abdellatif Kechiche frames them in intimate close up and lights them beautifully, so that contrasting ideas of realism and romantic beauty are perfectly juxtaposed.

Blue is the Warmest Colour won the Palme D’Or at Cannes in 2013 and for this reason has received a lot of press. It has also made it on to the lists of many critics’ best films of the year, another reason why it has received a lot of press. It also contains some of the most explicit sex scenes in a film that has gained this level of attention and achievement and sits outside of pornography. And it is within the sex that one may become agitated by the film’s aims.

The narrative follows the romance of Adele and Emma. From the first glance and meeting the parents, through to the honeymoon stage and routine happiness setting in; the fights, the making up, the suspicion, the affair and the break up. The last of which is incredibly emotional cinema. It is therefore natural that sex is a part of this narrative and a film for adults must not feel that it needs to bypass this natural and necessary feature. Yet, the way Kechiche films the sex scenes and their regularity throughout the second act is transgressive. Our observing an intimate romance starts to feel uncomfortable and arousing, the combination of which is jarring.

Kechiche films Adele and Emma’s sexual activities through the eyes of a man wanting to glamorise sex between two women. These scenes stand apart stylistically from the rest of the film. There is no music, far fewer close up shots and in length they go beyond any other scene. We are no longer following Adele’s first real love, we are watching male fantasies in an environment of heightened excitement, for in the cinema, we are not used to seeing this. What Kechiche was attempting to achieve with these scenes is unclear (he would have known the controversy they would create), but it is credit to his two actors that they can keep this love story so involving amongst the explicit sex scenes. 

On Catholicism and Philomena

Catholicism comes under subtle, but harsh criticism in Stephen Frears’ new film, Philomena. Although the larger slice of the credit for bringing Philomena to the screen goes to Steven Coogan as writer, producer and actor. As a biography this is far more interesting than the rock and roll rags-to-riches-to-rags biographies that are usually made and that is because Philomena is real. It is immediately relatable even though the subject matter is horrifically difficult and will be unique to most audiences.

The good guy of the film (although nothing is black and white) is Coogan’s journalist and to some extent Philomena, although she is a little too resigned, understandably, to be a hero. The bad guy is the Catholic Church, here represented by a convent in Ireland. While Philomena refuses to blame the church, the film paints her as a figure of the past, while Coogan’s Sixsmith presents a more contemporary view and his often savage critique of the church and religion rings true. Yet Coogan and Frears recognise the difficulty of their subject matter and allow the audience to judge, without judging themselves. Although they gently push the audience towards a criticism of Catholicism.

Philomena manages to successfully be a balanced criticism of Catholicism, with particular focus on the convent where Philomena was forced to stay. An environment that was occasionally kind, frequently cruel and without doubt an incredibly oppressive religious environment. The cruellest part is that interviews with the actual Philomena Lee reveal the film to take few liberties.

Philomena is a quietly impressive piece of cinema. 

On The Counselor

The Counselor promises much in all departments, but perhaps most exciting amongst its talent is the debut of Cormac McCarthy as a screenwriter. McCarthy is one of America’s most talented working writers and his novels have been adapted fairly frequently with varying levels of success. From All The Pretty Horses (2000) to the excellent No Country For Old Men (2007). McCarthy has a way with language that is superbly symbolic and creates stark, violent worlds of immense beauty. The Counselor is his first work that has bypassed the novel form and gone direct to screenplay.

Whether The Counselor worked on the page or whether it has been edited and McCarthy’s vision has been lost is unknown, but what is known is that on screen it does not work. The characters are enigmatic to the point of frustration as is the narrative. At no point is it clear what is going on. And not in a good way, where we are guessing the fate of the characters, but in a bad way, where boredom sets in. What is worse is that McCarthy’s dialogue comes across as hackneyed and sends us running back and craving the creativity of The Road, published in 2006. This simply feels misjudged in all areas and is better glossed over for the careers of all involved. 

On the Most Contemporary of Commentaries with Don Jon

Don Jon addresses an issue that is hard to address as we are within it and therefore lack a perspective that offers clear judgement. With this in mind, writer, director and actor Joseph Gordon Levitt deserves a huge amount of credit for being able to articulate this modern societal issue and work it into a film that works.

The issue at hand is, bluntly, pornography. If the statistics are to be believed then pornography is the most common use of the Internet and is a bigger industry than Hollywood. It is also a huge societal concern that brings commentary from all parties, including political ones. Therefore a topic worthy of examination.

Within the narrative of Don Jon Gordon-Levitt proffers the idea that pornography (and in more general terms the use of soft core sexuality to advertise) has reached such ubiquity that it is acceptable; he may be right. Yet the film goes onto suggest that this is contributing towards a disintegration of ‘real’ relationships and is instead promoting extremely superficial ones. And again, Don Jon makes a convincing case. 

Added to this, the film provides a subtle criticism of Catholicism as Jon strives to reduce his number of Hail Mary’s by watching less pornography and sleeping with fewer women out of wedlock. His reaction when he sees there is no connection between the church’s punishment and his confession is an enjoyable realisation for us to witness.

Don Jon needs its first act to find its feet and discover its confidence, but when it does and the story settles down it is hugely enjoyable and easily achieves a level of depth that offers an acerbic commentary on where society may be heading. 

On Ambivalence with Thor: The Dark World

And so it rolls on and on. Already achieving the number one box office spot in the UK and America, Thor: The Dark World demonstrates the continued power of Marvel. The story is ridiculously messy and the dialogue does it no favours, despite the actors, especially Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddlestone, remaining very watchable. The main problem is that on screen it’s all becoming boring. The almost complete reliance on CGI and the convoluted story means what we have here and for several years to come are computer games on cinema screens. Marvel is undoubtedly a ground breaking company in the comic book medium, but when it comes to film its impact has mixed results. In one corner they are certainly damaging the variety of cinema we are offered on our screens. The summer season that Marvel films (and their like) dominate is slowly growing and now begins late April and runs into October. These films make a massive amount of capital for the studios and can help prop up funding for smaller budget films of a greater quality, which leads to the other corner. The dominance of these films has encouraged (forced) filmmakers to find other outlets as competing is out of the question. Therefore we have new, lower risk methods of distribution, such as iTunes, Netflix and other analogous platforms. Lower risk distribution leads to more experimental film choices which can only be a positive. Whether these films make enough capital to allow the filmmakers to continue is another story, but the issue here is that Marvel's long term impact on the film industry, positive or negative has yet to be felt. 

On a Rare Cinematic Experience with Gravity

Avatar (2009) could never claim to be a fantastic piece of narrative cinema, but it could lay claim to making the best use of 3D. It can no longer claim the latter as Alfonso Cuaron’s Gravity is the most beautifully realised use of the technology to date. It may seem something of an oxymoron, but the detailed sparseness of his mise-en-scene benefits the technology. The hectic, filled to the edges Marvel films, which seem to be the most common use of 3D are almost impossible to follow. Their mise-en-scene is confusing enough without adding poorly realised and out of focus 3D. By using space as the setting, Gravity is built for 3D and the technology enhances the film, rather than being an excuse for earning enhanced ticket sales. Additionally, this will be a perfect IMAX experience for the same reasons and therefore satisfy the two growing technologies, competing for cinema’s attentions.

More than just a beautiful film (Cuaron knows enough to linger on the stunning shots of Earth’s orbit) Gravity is a cinematic experience that goes beyond all the superlatives that are thrown its way. Yet, terrifying and heartbreaking seem appropriate and Gravity often achieves them at the same time. The characters may be thinly drawn, but the weight brought those characters by Sandra Bullock and George Clooney makes them believable and engaging. Additionally, the script worked on by Cuaron and his son Jonas adds to the feeling of authenticity, as does the detail in the setting, costumes and the entire mise-en-scene. Cuaron said that after the film’s release, he wanted NASA to call up and enquire as to how a camera was placed on their space station. Cuaron has the advantage that few in his audience will have been to space, but from a layman perspective the level of detail is astonishing.

Despite the incredible visuals and cathartic experience, Gravity has depth in its narrative. Whether you see it is allegorical of loss and rebirth or a commentary on a reliance on technology, there is depth beneath the glossy surface. The acting, the script, the detail and the special effects all contribute towards this piece of stunning entertainment. Gravity is impossible to look away from and in this way it is a rare cinematic experience.