#37: The Fountain (2006) June 8, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : Drama, Sci-fi, Romance, 2000s, 4 stars, Adventure, 2008, Historical , 3 comments2006 | Darren Aronofsky | 93 mins | DVD | 12 / PG-13
The Fountain was one of the more critically divisive films of recent years, eliciting genuine “love it or hate it” reviews all round. I find myself leaning more towards the former. While I can’t claim to fully understand (let alone explain) much of what it means, and while I usually dislike things that can pretentiously be described as “film as poetry” (or similar), there’s something in the qualities of The Fountain that engaged me.
For one thing it looks gorgeous. While the whole film is beautifully shot, it’s hard not to single out the future segments, in which Aronofsky chose to create space with “micro-photography of chemical reactions” rather than the usual CGI. However it was achieved, the important thing is it looks great. Clint Mansell’s score is equally beautiful, both dramatically exciting and romantically tender — sometimes at the same time. Performance-wise, Hugh Jackman is undoubtedly at the centre and is as likable as ever. It’s only the present-day segments where he really has much to do, in the arguably-clichéd story of a scientist so desperate to find a cure for his wife’s disease he misses out on spending time with her. Rachel Weisz is good as ever as the wife, even if her American accent is occasionally distracting.
Meanwhile, the past segments are essentially an historical adventure movie with some of the plot scenes cut, and the future segments offer near-2001 levels of silent obscurity. By a similar token, the film has an apparently ambiguous finale that, unusually, I’m quite happy to let wash over me. I’m sure there are multiple conclusions a viewer can reach for what it’s ‘about’ — the eternity of love, the repetition of life, or simply a sci-fi/fantasy quest for immortality — but I find myself happy to accept that it may mean one, all or none of those things and just leave it be. It’s an odd way to feel at the end of a film — not caring about what it meant, but in a good way.
I can only apologise that, a bit like the film, this review is relatively brief, a tad dreamy and somewhat inconclusive. I can see why some dislike this film, and I think I’d normally be one of them, but in this case something about it captured me. I look forward to seeing it again and, maybe, getting a better idea what it was.
#33: Throne of Blood (1957) May 29, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : Drama, Akira Kurosawa, 5 stars, adaptations, 1950s, 2008, world cinema, Historical, Shakespeare , 1 comment so far1957 | Akira Kurosawa | 105 mins | DVD | PG or 12
Kurosawa moves Macbeth from Scotland to 16th Century Japan in this retelling of Shakespeare’s infamous Scottish Play. I’ve heard this described as a loose adaptation — perhaps those reviewers have never read the play. Kurosawa sticks very closely to the structure of Shakespeare’s version of the story (though based on real events, Shakespeare changed key details), often choosing to adapt it scene-for-scene. It works well in the new setting, with some of the themes — honour, respect, betrayal — perhaps becoming more understandable when placed in samurai culture. Kurosawa changes other elements too — character names are understandably localised, there’s only one witch, there’s no version of the famous “Is this a dagger which I see before me?” monologue, and so on. It’s not all omissions however, as Kurosawa adds imagery and symbolism of his own. Again this helps to place the story in its new context, but also covers the loss of Shakespeare’s original language (a major sticking point for some critics).
Beyond the Shakespearean similarities (or lack of), there’s much to see in Throne of Blood — literally, thanks to the atmospheric cinematography. Most of the exteriors are doused in fog, and while this is sometimes over-done (an extended sequence of Washizu and Miki riding in and out of it goes on too long) it also makes for some amazing moments, such as when the trees of Cobweb Forest drift menacingly forward. The interior of the forest is suitably oppressive and scary too, the perfect location for encountering a witch. Kurosawa was inspired by Japanese Noh theatre in his construction of the film, so there are a lot of longer shots that allow the characters to be blocked as if on stage. It’s not overly theatrical, thankfully, and works suitably.
Cinematic techniques are not entirely abandoned however. The most memorable is the banquet scene, in which Washizu sees Miki’s ghost: we see Miki’s empty seat, the camera tracks forward to a shocked Washizu, then back to reveal the ghost of Miki sat at his place, before tracking and panning around the room to follow Mifune’s brilliant performance. It’s an infinitely more effective reveal than any amount of jiggery pokery with dissolves or CGI could provide. Similarly, Washizu’s iconic death scene — in which hundreds of arrows puncture him and the surrounding walls — is impressively achieved (using real arrows), including one seamless shot when an arrow pierces his neck.
Macbeth is my favourite Shakespeare play — it’s a great story, with great themes, imagery and language. Throne of Blood obviously loses some of this, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest — Kurosawa has constructed an excellent and well-conceived retelling with a few of his own flourishes.
A note on the classification: the UK DVD from the BFI is rated PG, classified in 1991. A few months after the DVD’s release in 2001, the film was re-submitted to the BBFC and received a 12. Quite way the rating was raised isn’t explained, and copies of the DVD still bear a PG on the cover.
#29: Henry V (1989) May 18, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : War, adaptations, 4 stars, 1980s, British films, 2008, true stories, Historical, Shakespeare, remakes , 1 comment so far1989 | Kenneth Branagh | 132 mins | DVD | PG / PG-13
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, as I delve into a second version of Henry V in as many (viewing) days. (I dread to think how many reviews of this film began with a similar quote-based pun.) Inevitably, having watched them so close together, this is as much a comment on the relative merits of Branagh’s and Olivier’s interpretations of Henry V as it is a review of Branagh’s film in its own right.
Branagh’s version opens with almost a direct homage to Olivier’s, though with an important difference. Olivier opened with the Chorus’ narration on a stage ; Branagh opens with the Chorus’ narration on a film set. Rather than wasting half an hour with this conceit (as Olivier did), Branagh pushes into the ‘reality’ of the story before another actor has even entered. And his reality is much more real. The film looks as if it’s lit by candles and daylight, the castles and tavern are rough and dark, the battlefields muddy and grimy; everyone gets dirty and bloodied by the fights. On the whole it’s a grittier and more realistic version. Yet there’s room for more than that. The story still seems concluded at the Battle of Agincourt, but the proposal scene no longer feels tacked on. In fact it’s now laugh-out-loud hilarious, with Branagh and Emma Thompson demonstrating the undeniable chemistry that would help make Much Ado About Nothing so good a few years later. Unlike Olivier’s fluffy limp to the credits, this is an entertaining round-off to the plot.
The fact I’d never seen a version of Henry V before Olivier’s ostensibly gives Branagh’s the benefit of a better understanding on my part. Practically, it matters little that I saw Olivier’s first, as the more modern and film-friendly performances in Branagh’s version mean that, while Olivier’s allowed me to broadly follow the majority of what was happening, Branagh’s gives more access to the nuances of both plot and character. He’s aided in the latter by the inclusion of scenes deemed inappropriate for a World War 2 propaganda film: in one, Henry and co confront three traitors; in another, he hangs an old friend in order to make an example. Other scenes are played differently too, so that Branagh’s Henry is a more complex and morally debatable figure, unlike Olivier’s bright-eyed hero. Whatever your opinions on the two actors on the whole, these changes make for a better character and therefore a better film.
It would be remiss not to mention the rest of the cast. Brian Blessed is positively restrained as Exeter, one of Henry’s key associates — you’d never imagine he could turn in such a performance if you’d only seen his recent go at hosting Have I Got News For You. Paul Schofield, as the aging French King, and Michael Maloney, as the contemptible Dauphin, help flesh out the French side more than Olivier’s version managed, as does Christopher Ravenscroft’s Mountjoy, the French herald who all but switches his allegiance. The English ranks are swelled by Bilbo Baggins, Hagrid, and the current incarnations of ‘M’ and Batman (don’t worry, the French have Miss Marple); not to mention the recognisable faces of Richard Briers, Danny Webb, Simon Shepherd and John Sessions (and no doubt others I’ve accidentally missed). Of course, a starry and recognisable cast does not necessarily a good film make, but this is a dependable lot and there are good performances all round — even if Ian Holm’s Welsh accent is somewhat dubious (though it’s a lunar leap on from the one in Olivier’s version).
And deserving of a paragraph unto himself is Derek Jacobi’s masterful Chorus, who, with just a handful of narrational lines and a big black coat, is somehow one of the coolest characters I’ve seen of late.
There’s no contest here me. Olivier’s version is an over-stylised, propaganda-inspired, outdated version of Shakespeare, whereas Branagh’s is a comprehensible, realistic, textured and, perhaps most importantly, genuinely enjoyable interpretation.
#28: Henry V (1944) May 16, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : War, adaptations, 2 stars, 1940s, British films, 2008, true stories, Historical, Shakespeare , add a comment1944 | Laurence Olivier | 131 mins | VHS | U
Or The Chronicle History of King Henry the Fift with His Battell Fought at Agincourt in France, as the title card (and therefore IMDb) would have it.
The works of Shakespeare tend to be a love-it-or-hate-it experience for most people, often based on one’s social class and/or experiences at school (obviously not exclusively). Just to be awkward, I’m going to say I have mixed feelings about his plays: on the one hand, I consistently enjoy Macbeth and find Much Ado About Nothing a diverting enough rom-com; on the other, I was bored by Richard III, even when played by Sir Ian McKellen, and never got on with A Midsummer Night’s Dream (to pick just two examples for each side). I imagine most people have their likes and dislikes of course, but I often feel I fall between the the dislike Normal people have for Shakespeare and the love that Cultured people have for him.
This may seem beside the point, but it does lead to Olivier’s Henry V. Simply put, I didn’t much care for it. It failed to engage me, and I’d put this down to Olivier’s infamous staging (literally) of it. The first half hour is a recreation of the play’s first performance in 1600, complete with fluffed sound cues and heckles from the crowd. The goings-on backstage and performer/crowd interactions heavily distract from the actual text being performed, as much as anything because they’re more entertaining. Then, cued by one of the Chorus’s lines, the film moves to showing the story in ‘reality’ — except this is a reality made of painted scenery, primary-coloured landscapes, and cardboard fairy castles. It’s a deliberate effect, designed to emulate pre-Renaissance painting, but it didn’t work for me — it’s over-stylised and distracting, and if you’re not familiar with the play (as I wasn’t) getting distracted is a problem. The concept of transition from performance to reality has potential (as would the idea of presenting the whole thing on stage with crowd interactions, actually, considering I missed them when they went), but I personally feel Olivier executed it poorly. For one thing, it spends too long bedding in the feel of the stage performance before it gets round to the shift to reality.
Stylised productions can work, and excellently, but here the direction and acting are sometimes as flat as the castles. Actors arbitrarily shout some lines, hush others, and put in emphasis of dubious relevance — it’s like Shakespeare-by-numbers, the sort of production that reveres the text so much it doesn’t bother to think about it. It hampers any understanding of what they’re saying, especially for newcomers. Perhaps more fairly, the performance style is incredibly stagey. My degree-related reading suggests this is one of the earliest proper Shakespeare films (previous adaptations being silent or even less complete), so perhaps the idea of a more subdued, screen-acting style had yet to permeate such productions. Things do pick up as the film goes on: the battles are effective, and the proposal scene is more comfortably performed than the pre-war politics. That said, the story seems to be over once Agincourt is won, so by modern structural standards the hasty single-scene romance that follows feels pointlessly tacked on.
Olivier’s Henry V has received plenty of praise in its time, as well as derision, largely for its conception as World War 2 propaganda. The latter is hard to ignore, with grand speeches delivered in a way reminiscent of Churchill’s and scenes removed so that Henry’s character becomes unquestionably good — both aspects that are distinctly less relevant to today’s more complex, war-dubious world. Even leaving the propaganda aside, the performances are outdated, the design several stylised steps too far, and on the whole the production failed to engage or hold my interest. However good it may once have seemed, I think this version has had its day.
Next I’ll be reviewing Kenneth Branagh’s all-star 1989 version of Henry V, here.
#24: Rashomon (1950) May 5, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : Akira Kurosawa, 5 stars, adaptations, 1950s, 2008, Mystery, world cinema, Historical , 2 comments1950 | Akira Kurosawa | 88 mins | DVD | 12 / PG-13
One has to wonder if Dr. Gregory House was exposed to Rashomon at a young age. House’s universal truth — “everyone lies” — is also the conclusion of Kurosawa’s much-lauded film, in which four witnesses tell different versions of the events surrounding a samurai’s murder.
The “Rashomon” of the title is one of two gates to Kyoto, built in 789 and in disrepair and disrepute by the film’s 12th Century setting, but thanks to this film the word has come to signify a narrative that retells the same event from multiple perspectives. Mentioning it seems unavoidable when writing about a film (or episode of TV, or novel, or…) with such a structure, as reviews of the recent Vantage Point would attest. However, most similar tales aren’t quite as radical as this ‘original’ (which is based on two short stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa), in which the four tales differ wildly.
Justifiably, much has been written about Rashomon, both critically and analytically. As such I’m not going to dig too deeply here, but instead just highlight a couple of reasons why it’s so acclaimed. For one, it looks great. Kazuo Miyagawa’s cinematography is exemplary, producing gorgeous rain at the gate, wonderful shadows in the forest, and employing numerous inventive shots and moves, always effective rather than showy. Fumio Hayasaka’s music underscores proceedings beautifully, coming into its own during long dialogue-free sequences. The performances are also accomplished, especially Toshiro Mifune as laughing bandit Tajomaru, but also Masayuki Mori’s largely silent turn as the murdered samurai, and Fumiko Honma’s chillingly freaky medium.
As I said, there’s much more that could be (and has been) written about Rashomon — I’ve not even touched on the intricacies of the plot, the presentation of the courthouse scenes, the significance of the fights, and so on. Certain viewers might be put off by the subtitles, the black and white photography, the film’s age, and its occasional ‘arthouse’-ness — and, I confess, I’m one of the first people to get fed up with films like Tati’s Play Time or Ozu’s Tokyo Story — but, for me, Rashomon was an incredibly enjoyable first encounter with Kurosawa.
#19: Beowulf: Director’s Cut (2007) April 19, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : Animation, Action, Fantasy, 2000s, adaptations, 2 stars, Adventure, 2008, extended/director's cut, Historical , 5 comments2007 | Robert Zemeckis | 110 mins | DVD | 12
Back to catching up on last year’s films that I missed, this time with Beowulf in its Director’s Cut form — which, much to my amusement at the time, prominently featured a BBFC 18 icon on its initial cover art but only received a 12 when classified. Clearly the BBFC didn’t feel the “bolder, never-before-seen images” were any more unsuitable for kiddies than the originals. Personally, I’m not so sure. This version of the film is bloody violent (literally); more so than Lord of the Rings, which is the comparison the BBFC make. I’m not a parent and I’m not pro-censorship (far from it), but this feels more like a 15 to me.
Anyway, that’s not the point. What of the film itself? Well, let’s stick with the violence for a moment. It’s bloody and brutal… and completely undermined by the quality of the animation. I like animated films; I have absolutely no problem with animated films for adults; but the issue here is that most of the characters (especially the ‘extras’) seem of about the same quality as humans in Shrek. So while the battle scenes are often very violent, it becomes hard to take them seriously because it’s all too cartoony. Perhaps this is where classifying became problematic. But it’s not just the violence — the animation is awkward throughout. It’s not lifelike enough to be confused with reality, but not ‘animated’ enough to accept on that level. The characters move stiffly, are mostly too smooth (things do improve with aged characters in the final act), and are ‘dead behind the eyes’. The creatures are largely less realistic CGI than you’d see in a live action film. There are even times when things aren’t far above the graphics from a high-end computer game.
It’s not all bad. Anthony Hopkins is entertaining (and sounding more Welsh than ever), and I enjoyed Alan Silvestri’s score. The screenplay plays fast and loose with the original poem, but Gaiman and Avery have justified this and it’s mostly pretty good. While the third act initially slows the film’s pace to a crawl, the tiredness of an older Beowulf and an exciting duel with a dragon make it the best bit, despite the occasional lack of internal logic (why doesn’t the dragon’s fire burn his heart?) It goes someway to making up for the Beowulf-Grendel battle earlier on. In a rare attempt at genuine faithfulness, Beowulf strips naked for the fight so as to be on equal terms with Grendel. Understandably, the filmmakers don’t want his CGI manhood flying around, so he’s always shot with something helpfully blocking his groin. Problem is, the lengths and tricks involved in achieving this are too reminiscent of similar bits in Austin Powers, turning what should be a big heroic action sequence into a comedic exercise (though, it must be said, not an especially amusing one).
I wanted to like Beowulf. All those people on IMDb who whined that it was animated and you couldn’t do an animated action movie for adults annoyed me something rotten, and I really wanted them to be proved wrong. Plus I like many of Zemeckis’ other films, I like the poem, and there’s a lot of potential for a good adaptation. But the weak CGI, sometimes leaden dialogue (I forgot to mention the 300-wannabe “I am Beowulf” and comedically repetitive “I’ve come to kill your monster”), and uncertain level of violence all get in the way. For the majority of its running time, Beowulf left me with a sadly inescapable feeling of disappointment.
There seem to be a couple of conflicting reports on how different the two cuts are. A comparison lists 90 seconds of new material, but shows the running times to be four-and-a-half minutes different (without credits). On the other hand, the BBFC list the director’s cut as being just 30 seconds longer. However much is completely new, there’s definitely added blood in existing scenes and some shots have been replaced with more graphic versions.
#18: Troy: Director’s Cut (2004/2007) April 16, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : Action, War, 2000s, adaptations, 4 stars, 2008, extended/director's cut, Historical , 8 comments2004 / 2007 | Wolfgang Petersen | 188 mins | DVD | 15 / R
A lot of people didn’t like Wolfgang Petersen’s big budget version of The Iliad. I can’t remember the specific criticisms any more, other than that some friends who’d read the poem found this to be simply laughable. Personally, I quite enjoyed it — it may not be classic art like its source, but the theatrical cut of Troy was a more than passable example of swords-and-sandals entertainment. If not an epic, despite its running time, it was quite fun.
This director’s cut adds almost half an hour of new material, which is about a 15% increase in length — enough to justify a new number here, I feel. That said, I can’t spot most of what’s new, undoubtedly because the last time I saw Troy was in the cinema almost four years ago. Rose Byrne’s character seems to get more screen time, which in turn helps flesh out Achilles; and, based on what it says in IMDb’s trivia section, Trevor Eve’s role has also increased. He’s still a minor character, but as an advisor to King Priam the reinstating of his scenes means there’s more politics on screen. And I believe there’s some extra nudity too — quite why that couldn’t be in the R-rated theatrical cut is beyond me, but there you have it.
What this reveals is that, on the whole, Troy hasn’t changed much. If you know it well enough to spot the differences then you surely already like it, in which case I expect you’ll like this cut too. Despite the length and additions (which, in some extended cuts, can throw things out of kilter) it feels well paced, taking time to build character and plot in between the action sequences. Some of the characters have (relatively speaking) complex motives and actions — I expect we have Homer to thank for that — while several of the action scenes are fairly impressive — due more to the Hollywood production team. If you didn’t like Troy first time round, I doubt you’ll be swayed now. Some of the script is very clunky, dragging the performances down with it, and if you didn’t like its level of faithfulness then that hasn’t improved either. Mind you, compared to the 1997 TV version of The Odyssey, which opens with a twenty minute version of this tale, Troy seems like high art.
This score is one higher than I gave the theatrical cut (not reviewed here). I’d attribute this more to generosity and lowered expectations than the added material.