tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10081224479796758192024-03-18T03:07:21.873+00:00The Voluptuous ManifestoAll work and no play makes Jill a very dull girlAmanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.comBlogger1180125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-62949811162291436012024-03-17T21:29:00.003+00:002024-03-18T02:58:55.400+00:00A mixed bag from this lesbian road/caper/crime comedy<p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGcen8Y8RxrTiuGFIc8voIJExA5ssANqrksljndYA4v1zl04IuzYY-JoTLGirfMSdo2jRBUgt6lLdVHq4Itv0nc6oj9qoa_LAm4NVWa-J00pUANbdxxXFxi71TwttYd8k0naK-adcKcaM1mdWVc47VZCULheFDluLQH45PCDrpxO8dc2D5fWJJEMSy9NIc/s2000/Drive-Away-Dolls-scaled-wide.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="2000" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGcen8Y8RxrTiuGFIc8voIJExA5ssANqrksljndYA4v1zl04IuzYY-JoTLGirfMSdo2jRBUgt6lLdVHq4Itv0nc6oj9qoa_LAm4NVWa-J00pUANbdxxXFxi71TwttYd8k0naK-adcKcaM1mdWVc47VZCULheFDluLQH45PCDrpxO8dc2D5fWJJEMSy9NIc/s320/Drive-Away-Dolls-scaled-wide.webp" width="320" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">Well. Where to start? Ethan Coen’s second feature without his bro, Joel, is a bit of an oddity.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"> </span><i style="color: #1d2228;">Drive-Away Dolls</i><span class="apple-converted-space" face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">is a lesbian road/caper/crime comedy – not that that that is a bad thing, but it seems too have something of an identity crisis. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">Coen directs, but the screenplay was written jointly with his wife, Tricia Cooke, who has worked as an editor or associate editor on many of the Coen brothers’ films.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">This is one case where I’m going to mention people’s personal lives, because the couple are quite open about this and it seems relevant to the film.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">Cooke and Coen have two children, but she identifies as lesbian and queer, and describes her marriage as “non-traditional”. They both have other partners.</span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">The point being that this is not some some sort of straight riff on lesbian lives.</span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">Bu back to the film. It’s Philadelphia in 1999. After permissive Jamie is kicked out of her relationship with cop Sukie, she learns that her up-tight friend Marian is planning a trip to Tallahassee, Florida, to visit a relative and enjoy some birdwatching, and decides they should make the trip together.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">They use a drive-away car company (where someone can transport a car one-way for another client). However, a misunderstanding means they get the wrong car – with an intriguing cargo.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">When the bunch of crooks who had booked the car finds out, they set off in murderous chase.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">It’s so hit and miss. It seems like a very deliberate attempt to come up with the trashiest, most lesbo-exploitation flick you could – and perhaps that’s a positive finger to the state of lesbian representation on screen? But yet the film feels conflicted.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">There are some very good moments.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">Flashback sequences of Marian starting to explore her sexuality are spot on. But a series of psychedelic interludes, which have no explanation until very, very late on, are annoying. And while it’s genuinely funny in places, it’s not laugh-out-loud funny in the same way that it seems to want to be.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">It actually has a great core message – that horny women who shag other horny woman are fine!</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">But problems aside,<span class="apple-converted-space"> <span style="outline: none;"></span></span><span style="color: #202122;">Geraldine Viswanathan</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"> </span></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">as Marian is really fantastic, bringing a sense of <span style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40);">genuine</span> nuance to a generally unsubtle film.</span><span class="apple-converted-space" face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"> <span style="outline: none;"></span></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: black;">Margaret Qualley</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">, as Jamie, gives it her all, but I do wonder about the accent a bit.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Beanie Feldstein is great as the cuckolded girlfriend and cop.</span></p><p class="yiv4024986851msonormal" style="margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">There is a tiny cameo here for Pedro Pascal, a slightly larger one for Matt Damon, and a bigger role for Colman Domingo, all of whom give of their best. Joey Slotnjick as one of the gangsters is very good.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">So very much a mixed bag. But while the film itself is more than a tad all over the place, it's most certainly good to see lesbians being represented in such morally non-judgemental – indeed, in such positive</span></span><span style="background-color: white;"> ways.</span></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-91245500660519581222024-03-17T21:03:00.002+00:002024-03-18T03:06:49.609+00:00Superb film of August Wilson's Ma Rainey – and not just because of Chadwick Boseman<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ASCmhyyJptcgTNr7sC99uRgLEi0boIRTNNGSFjRZA31IT4WGpZNcrTRG6JmZecwenmf9o9lMmBwFIZ0V5nvjdd8Gwt3jpStcKmSBIut-ddBZd3ta2_NZPhQY2QRbFXUaEtJzqsxZ7IOGZ_vjI-ftnCmfNHAUaaDQ2LVSc03115U-AxmCuHhRrUXd04Wi/s1024/Ma%20Rainey.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1024" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ASCmhyyJptcgTNr7sC99uRgLEi0boIRTNNGSFjRZA31IT4WGpZNcrTRG6JmZecwenmf9o9lMmBwFIZ0V5nvjdd8Gwt3jpStcKmSBIut-ddBZd3ta2_NZPhQY2QRbFXUaEtJzqsxZ7IOGZ_vjI-ftnCmfNHAUaaDQ2LVSc03115U-AxmCuHhRrUXd04Wi/s320/Ma%20Rainey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">After yesterday’s early evening football, there was still time for a film and, in this case, it was a re-watch of <i style="color: #1d2228;">Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;">I’ve seen August Wilson’s play three times – I reviewed the National Theatre’s 1989 production, then went to see it with The Other Half when it played briefly at the Hackney Empire (where the roof leaked onto us). Then we went to see it again in the National’s top-notch 2016 revival.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">The release of George C Woolfe’s 2020 film – produced by Denzel Washington as part of his long-term project to bring all of Wilson’s plays to the screen – was overshadowed by news of the death of star Chadwick Boseman at just 43 from cancer, while the film was in post-production.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">His performance as the tragic, traumatised trumpeter Levee in Ma’s four-piece band – at once full of contempt for the white men who only tolerate the black musicians because they bring money in, but also overly deferential to them because he wants his own band – is brilliant. Little wonder that he received a hat-load of posthumous awards and nominations.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">In a way, though, Boseman’s tragically early passing dwarfed the rest of the cast. The Other Half and I streamed it early after it landed on Netflix, having linked up the TV to one of our phones because we were at the start of two months without the internet after a major blow-out. That was how much we wanted to see it – and see it early.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">Yet seeing it again now, I can not only re-engage with the brilliance of Boseman, but also better appreciate Viola Davis’s powerhouse performance as Ma.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">I’m also now familiar with Colman Domingo, who played Cutler so well, and can enjoy more fully Glynn Turman’s turn as Toledo.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">The film landed barely six months after the murder of George Floyd, illustrating just how topical the themes of Wilson’s – and Woolfe’s film – remain.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: arial;">An essential watc</span>h.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-25651811823446945632024-03-16T19:50:00.004+00:002024-03-16T19:50:58.436+00:00Rashomon: Superb filmmaking from Kurosawa<p><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNztA_9H8nhVp27hC1i7DNnpLfNtcnMCWo1tu4LmXBca5CiBYtnTwwv3N1nrY2lZdQT4kwIWPKA_ucBsMgBJWpiVU2v0W_YV0kESHAW_q8-5FgLjQ-xH1MJCVtybPyvDj6uHafNJ8dUkIwpr7RTi1JXFTNjQiQCZWxGcdmj1V_x_hiPziGWFvW5v0RVlfe/s848/mifune-rashomon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="848" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNztA_9H8nhVp27hC1i7DNnpLfNtcnMCWo1tu4LmXBca5CiBYtnTwwv3N1nrY2lZdQT4kwIWPKA_ucBsMgBJWpiVU2v0W_YV0kESHAW_q8-5FgLjQ-xH1MJCVtybPyvDj6uHafNJ8dUkIwpr7RTi1JXFTNjQiQCZWxGcdmj1V_x_hiPziGWFvW5v0RVlfe/s320/mifune-rashomon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>More catch-up cinema, as I increasingly appreciate streaming. This afternoon’s choice came from browsing the ‘international’ section on Sky Cinema. I’ve seen a couple of iconic Japanese director Akira Kurosawa’s films, but I only knew of<span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; outline: none !important;">Rashomon</i><span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">by name.</span><p></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In the last period of classical Japanese history, a woodcutter and a priest are sheltering from a torrential downpour in Kyoto’s Rashomon Gate. Joined by a commoner, they are discussing a recent case of the rape of a woman and the murder of her Samurai husband.</span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Having both given testimonies at the subsequent trial, they are bemused by the how much all of the accounts differ, including that of the murder victim, which the court receives via a Shinto medium.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The priest insists that the dead can’t lie, but even he has doubts. Who to believe?</span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The screenplay is by Kurosawa and Shinobu Hashimoto, from Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s short stories <i>In a Grove</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>and<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i style="outline: none !important;">Rashomon</i>, while cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa contributed plenty of ideas. He’s particularly famous for his tracking shots and there’s a superb one early in the film, as the woodcutter travels through a forest.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The music from Fumio Hayasaka is also worth noting – not least a bolero that echoes Ravel’s iconic one, using exactly the same beat, though changing the melodic line.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In terms of the cast, Toshiro Mifune (pictured above) shines as Tajomaru, a notorious bandit.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Machiko Kyo as the wife, Masayuki Mori as her Samurai husband, Takashi Shimura as the woodcutter and Minoru Chiaki as the priest all deserve praise.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It was awarded the Golden Lion in Venice in 1951 and an Academy Honorary Award at the 1952 Oscars and is generally credited with introducing Japanese cinema to an international audience.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Rashomon</span></span></i><span style="outline: none !important;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">also gave its name to the Rashomon effect, which notes the unreliability of witnesses.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv4063315111msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">And it’s not difficult to see why this work has regularly featured in lists of the greatest films of all time. Extraordinary filmmaking, with an enigmatic story that ultimately finds a reason to continue having faith in humanity.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-48773645860931869892024-03-15T21:03:00.004+00:002024-03-16T19:43:18.095+00:00Joyous take-down of racism and fat-shaming<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinjpT1BFCcu531egKBO39bK_UQu25YkO3GG40t-FZ8OeV76lN3FkIizBiktv0cR0qTH1EVvkkW8KRBZ54MbLpN8ZGL4jKhq6aVPECjuZhom47be_7T6CbNmqqOnUeSiV66528Pm3CoZ56n8hzUaDB4rNfKFSW5-K54nJzqij9tZG6Nh7oJqos8DUfS7aDt/s452/Hairspray.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="452" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinjpT1BFCcu531egKBO39bK_UQu25YkO3GG40t-FZ8OeV76lN3FkIizBiktv0cR0qTH1EVvkkW8KRBZ54MbLpN8ZGL4jKhq6aVPECjuZhom47be_7T6CbNmqqOnUeSiV66528Pm3CoZ56n8hzUaDB4rNfKFSW5-K54nJzqij9tZG6Nh7oJqos8DUfS7aDt/s320/Hairspray.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>More catch-up film. This time, John Waters’s 1988 comedy,<span class="apple-converted-space" face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"> </span><i style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; outline: none;">Hairspray</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">. As with Studio Ghibli, I find myself wondering how on earth have I have missed this previously?</span><p></p><p class="yiv3924321851msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">But on the other hand, what a joy to discover such pieces now!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv3924321851msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">The plot is simple – teenage Tracy Turnblad is a brilliant dancer who dreams of being on The Corny Collins show, a dance off. On the way to realising her dream, she fights racism and, given that she is chubby, fat-shaming.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv3924321851msonormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">But there’s plenty of racist opposition to her ideas, from individuals and institutions. And Tracy has a job on to win.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv3924321851msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">It’s a joy. Wonderfully camp, and with the positive messages mentioned above – plus a wonderful cast. Rickie Lake is marvellous as Tracey. Then there is Divine as her mother, Jerry Stiller as her father and Debbie Harry as the mother of her fiercest – and most bitchy – opponent.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="yiv3924321851msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">One question, though: how do you make a ‘musical’ of this, given the music that’s already an integral part of this original version?<span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-51745605622677107642024-03-12T21:36:00.001+00:002024-03-13T06:51:43.197+00:00A reminder that Ghibli is every bit as good as Disney<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4hFrfSFUaEealvZ2KbTsMx5m0yorz5qHLAXkWwpjyQXwowMqCm9agFzVPiE3p9Ymnhy2g2JXs1jay84hnEcnoClw3s9jsgnAfVd8UoOuiWhKInTWfjtKkxGmvaKizwSNj9c5ure3YV2wL2A2-G4QbKnExDKtHaTsztI6SHXC-oNCmwQBPx7GneUJvz1_/s800/Howls-Moving-Castle-film-header-800x445.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="800" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4hFrfSFUaEealvZ2KbTsMx5m0yorz5qHLAXkWwpjyQXwowMqCm9agFzVPiE3p9Ymnhy2g2JXs1jay84hnEcnoClw3s9jsgnAfVd8UoOuiWhKInTWfjtKkxGmvaKizwSNj9c5ure3YV2wL2A2-G4QbKnExDKtHaTsztI6SHXC-oNCmwQBPx7GneUJvz1_/s320/Howls-Moving-Castle-film-header-800x445.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">I’m back on catch-up film. This time, more from Studio Ghbli, in that studio’s 2004 adaptation of Diana Wynne Jones’s novel<span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Howl’s Moving Castle</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">, with direction and screenplay by the legendary</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa;">Hayao Miyazaki</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Sophie is a shy young hatter in a Victorian era setting who believes herself unlovely. But after a chance encounter with a wizard – and the Witch of the Waste – she is cursed into being an elderly woman, and becomes drawn into a battle that reflects the start of a war in the human world.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Utterly astonishing – not least in its portrayal of the positives of age – this is simply wonderful, but also its deeply anti-war position. It nods to</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Wizard of Oz</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">and much more, but it’s also very much of itself.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">It’s fabulously animated, with a wonderful steampunk look, and a very real sense of morality as well as humour.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">I watched the English dubbed version, with a fabulous voice cast – not least the utter legend that is Lauren Bacall as the Witch if the Waste, and Billy Crystal as a little fire demon.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Quite simply wonderful.</span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-91997205540504924992024-03-11T17:18:00.005+00:002024-03-11T17:18:52.447+00:00Macho or not? In & Out remains a charming gay comedy<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRm73NHUr13dCTTAt4hGKYu0xvfXuAx1unNvUBc5QLLPSybe8ZmnVsZPO6r8noo481dlvU_TG5cENn-S2wg2l6a6gGI29SiK1d5bkuSK_4cdg1XCjsLuoJqG5EjiyKj-KrJ5QfOeP29iuS-mjARQW3fVbLhfH0JCJWSFCGK-VzsXGpLJAM1ew1H17tzpp/s2048/In%20&%20Out.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1378" data-original-width="2048" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRm73NHUr13dCTTAt4hGKYu0xvfXuAx1unNvUBc5QLLPSybe8ZmnVsZPO6r8noo481dlvU_TG5cENn-S2wg2l6a6gGI29SiK1d5bkuSK_4cdg1XCjsLuoJqG5EjiyKj-KrJ5QfOeP29iuS-mjARQW3fVbLhfH0JCJWSFCGK-VzsXGpLJAM1ew1H17tzpp/s320/In%20&%20Out.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">The Frank Oz 1997 film<span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; outline: none !important;">In & Out</i><span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">has been described as being one of Hollywood’s first efforts at making a ‘comic gay movie’ – can somebody mention Blake Edwards’s 1982</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; outline: none !important;">Victor/Victoria</i><span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">please, so I don’t have to!</span></span><p></p><p class="yiv0025472055msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">But to the point: Howard Brackett is an English teacher in a small Indiana town. He is due to marry colleague Emily Montgomery within days, but then the Academy Awards ceremony sees a former pupil of his not only laud him in a winning speech, but out him.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv0025472055msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">But Howard is not even remotely out to himself. The media descends on his small town and harasses him, while the entire community questions what he’s really like.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv0025472055msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Very light, very funny – full of lots of truths (arguably tropes, but then they’re tropes because they’re often true, if you get my meaning). It also very nicely pokes fun at the idea of 'masculinity'.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv0025472055msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">And it’s a fab cast.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv0025472055msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Kevin Kline is lovely in the central role of Howard; as is Oscar-nominated Joan Cusack as his finance. Debbie Reynolds and Wilfred Brimley as his parents are fab too. Then there’s Bob Newhart as the school principal – the expected joy.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv0025472055msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In a way, the surprise here is Tom Selleck as gay TV reporter Peter, who helps Howard actually understand who he is. It’s a really good performance.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv0025472055msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Here’s a fun little fact. At the end, all the characters – including Cusack’s Emily – dance to<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i style="outline: none !important;">Macho Man</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>by The Village People. She danced to the same song on film again in 1993, in<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i style="outline: none !important;">Adams Family Values</i>.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="yiv0025472055msonormal" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 34, 40); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; outline: none !important; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Genuinely charming and heart-warming.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Streaming on Sky Cinema and well worth a watch.</span></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-40392551683065180052024-03-09T19:14:00.001+00:002024-03-09T19:16:00.750+00:00An exquisite mediation on loss – and observing life<p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBwgYzQF_UWDR-VG8C4UG4AYKTnR1jouyofyZ-i4NUPDW-sVnqblS4j5sU2l4dPt07ZROdRUuRzq58TwQy2ly3by-BPLNNbUH4WocUe2rYCBUhuJvjBdkd4NddPZoTuNvadFKkYQA2jMxDMpoEOIEQmcP8nfxqGkrbGc4srjLGfYfPs_D7Bm3pTaSPlaJ/s1280/Mothering%20Sunday.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBwgYzQF_UWDR-VG8C4UG4AYKTnR1jouyofyZ-i4NUPDW-sVnqblS4j5sU2l4dPt07ZROdRUuRzq58TwQy2ly3by-BPLNNbUH4WocUe2rYCBUhuJvjBdkd4NddPZoTuNvadFKkYQA2jMxDMpoEOIEQmcP8nfxqGkrbGc4srjLGfYfPs_D7Bm3pTaSPlaJ/s320/Mothering%20Sunday.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It's 30 March 1924, and the Sheringham, Niven and Hobday families have gathered for lunch by the Thames at Henley – a <i style="color: #1d2228;">Mothering Sunday</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"> ritual that they have performed for some years and maintain, even though both the Niven sons and two of the three Sheringham sons were killed in the 'Great War'. Yet the reality of their collective loss is unspoken.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">This time, the lunch is taking place just days before the remaining Sheringham sibling, Paul, is due to marry Emma Hobday. Neither of them is particularly enthusiastic about the situation, but feel they have no alternative.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">For Paul, it’s complicated by a long-standing affair he’s been having with Jane Fairchild, a maid at the Nivens’ home. On the morning of the annual lunch, he tells his parents he’ll join them later, as he needs to cram for his law studies.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">Instead, he’s surreptitiously called Jane and arranged for her to join him at the family home. The staff have also been given the day off (as has Jane) and they’ll have the place to themselves. But when Paul finally leaves for Henley, tragedy strikes.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">Told from Jane’s perspective, Eva Husson’s 2021 adaptation of Graham Swift’s 2016 novel of the same name jumps between 1924 and further stages in Jane’s life, including her marriage to Donald, a philosopher, and her own development as a successful writer.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">The film’s been described as working “at a frustratingly chilly remove”, but this does actually work in a number of ways. First, as Donald notes to Jane, her having been a maid has turned her into an observer of people.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">Second, in a state of grief, Mrs Niven questions Jane about her past, checking that it really was the case that she has no family (she’d been abandoned at birth), before saying that that means she’s lucky, as she has nobody to lose.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">Third, the bottled-up emotions of the upper classes also plays out here – so it’s shocking when Mrs Niven breaks down at the lunch and swears that all the children have gone.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">In other words, an emotional remoteness is pertinent to the film.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">In many ways, it’s a meditation on grief and loss – and pushing through that. The screenplay from Alice Birch is very good, while Jamie Ramsey’s cinematography is lushly sensuous, Sandy Powell’s costume design is sumptuous and Morgan Kibby’s music is spot on.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">The supporting turns are excellent – not least from Olivia Colman and Colin Firth as the desperately unhappy Nivens, but also from Sope Dirisu as Donald and Josh O’Connor as Paul.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">But the film rests on Jane and Odessa Young gives a really fine performance in a film where so much is about the camera on her face.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">As an added attraction, there’s a delightful, sparkling cameo from Glenda Jackson, in her penultimate role, as the older Jane.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">I’d bought the disc on a visit to the BFI Southbank late last year, remembering having seen the film advertised and also aware that I am becoming a big Colman fan.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It’s pure coincidence that I decided to watch it today, given that tomorrow is Mother’s Day, but it will be on Channel 4 tomorrow (Film4 was one of the production companies involved) and is well worth a watc</span>h.</span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-7182727656303392302024-03-08T22:06:00.002+00:002024-03-08T22:06:53.202+00:00Drop the Dead Donkey stage reunion is an utter joy<p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDANt6Wm56n7gXW-prHpAdXceQqeayZjyTq24Y4Vin4AseGHMUKKDfXRvY0xulABhYNVkkNWXqbCEUPfsVay1SexcrUiq6CaF0LDHHLrUtgxOWcRHoGqE8f0Q8qsNmw_XFaLIHFKRuAbgNlUXSbfhfw8s9NGx_6TWBUG-TbVLDCUNPWmP5yMMgvCeNRQCw/s1000/Truth%20News.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="1000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDANt6Wm56n7gXW-prHpAdXceQqeayZjyTq24Y4Vin4AseGHMUKKDfXRvY0xulABhYNVkkNWXqbCEUPfsVay1SexcrUiq6CaF0LDHHLrUtgxOWcRHoGqE8f0Q8qsNmw_XFaLIHFKRuAbgNlUXSbfhfw8s9NGx_6TWBUG-TbVLDCUNPWmP5yMMgvCeNRQCw/s320/Truth%20News.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">When I first saw that <i>Drop the Dead Donkey</i> was going to be produced as a stage production, I had serious doubts. How often do such revivals generate huge, nostalgic excitement, yet then disappoint?</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But after heading to Brighton last Sunday for a much-needed break, Facebook algorithms decided to show me posts from the city’s Theatre Royal, revealing that the play was on tour there this week.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Enthusiasm took over and I booked for last night (Brighton might not be very far from London, but it’s light years away in terms of ticket prices, which also helped overcome any doubts about shelling out).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Decades on from the demise of GlobeLink News, most of the central figures from that TV newsroom are recruited by an anonymous source to start a GB News-like TV news channel, called Truth News, where facts will come second to what The Great Algorithm says will pull in the viewers – and the advertisers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This is one reunion that is an absolute delight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Much of that is down to Andy Hamilton and Guy Carver, the writers behind the original TV series between 1990 and 1998, who have written this stage version. The tone is absolutely spot on. It’s as though the dialogue – and the performances – have come from a sort of creative muscle memory. They’ve lost none of their satirical bite.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">To add to the fun, Hamilton and Carver are continuing to change the script to add topical comments in order that the satire is fresh. This week, these included snipes at the scandal over F1 Red Bull boss Christian Horner, plus plenty of digs at Sunak, Trump and Putin. And yes, in a spirit of even-handedness, Starmer too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Of course, a huge part of the fun here is seeing so many of the original cast back in their famous roles – and this time, live. Sadly, David Swift, who played grouchy co-news anchor Henry Davenport, and Haydn Gwynne, assistant editor Alex Pates for the first two TV seasons, are no longer with us – it’s lovely that they are remembered at the end.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But Robert Duncan as inept CEO Gus Hedges, Jeff Rawle as accident-prone, hypochondriac news editor George Dent, Ingrid Lacey as assistant editor (from season three) and lesbian Helen Cooper, Victoria Wicks as far-right, empty-headed, posh co-news anchor Sally Smedley, Stephen Tompkinson as unethical field reporter Damien Day, Neil Pearson as deputy sub-editor and general dogsbody Dave Charnley, and Susannah Doyle as vindictive and cynical personal assistant Joy Merryweather are all still very much with us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">They come on stage one by one, with the audience rapturously applauding each arrival. This gives the writers the opportunity to give us some backstory about what has happened to them all since GlobeLink’s collapse. These are hilarious.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmF1sUHZqmKSIf4WIRblkeOYSw5StprPCC_isB-P7TrU22EE7dPapmT6QHHwNAv6LbZ408fX_c7SvM6SMrvx8pP02LLygBqfJ9EjwJSlw_Xu_XWD1QnIY2L84_bwxsMBohYFulztdH6TKC6EfooAiCt91KIdmUJ2kp5jJOTXOFbKCi0mMVIVrxdWXEdiKb/s1000/Teddy%20bear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="1000" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmF1sUHZqmKSIf4WIRblkeOYSw5StprPCC_isB-P7TrU22EE7dPapmT6QHHwNAv6LbZ408fX_c7SvM6SMrvx8pP02LLygBqfJ9EjwJSlw_Xu_XWD1QnIY2L84_bwxsMBohYFulztdH6TKC6EfooAiCt91KIdmUJ2kp5jJOTXOFbKCi0mMVIVrxdWXEdiKb/s320/Teddy%20bear.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">For instance, George has done a series of jobs – all short-lived – such as working for Liz Truss during her (short-lived) premiership, while Sally hosted a TV show about revealing what your underwear was.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;">And Sally is still as gloriously, magnificently stupid as she ever was. There’s a moment during the first live broadcast from Truth News where she’s reading a cue about Chinese president </span><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;">Xi Jinping and says it as “President eleven…” before going on to fabulously and serially libel national treasure Sir David Attenborough.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In terms of national treasures, Trevor McDonald also features – but I’m saying no more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Hamilton and Carver have done a wonderful job here. The gag count is probably highest in the first act, while in the second, the point about fake news, algorithms and deep fakes is hammered home. Just when it risks getting a bit po-faced, what follows is a very clever and very, very funny indeed. The satire is no less effective than it was all those years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There’s great set design from Peter McKintosh and direction from Derek Bond. And big plaudits to Julia Hills and Kerena Jagpal as new characters Mairead, an award-winning investigative reporter, and Rita, an unpaid intern who is the station’s weather presenter. It must be tough coming into such a nostalgia situation but both are excellent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The late OH and I loved the TV series. We both worked in newsrooms (print, not TV), but we certainly knew a George Dent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It’s not the most youthful audience: the writers clearly knew this would be the case and acknowledge it delightfully when Gus is stressing the importance of getting young people to watch Truth News – and the cast respond by briefly breaking the fourth wall to look directly at the audience and raising a collective eyebrow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">An utter joy.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://dropdeaddonkey.co.uk" target="_blank">Production tour dates and more</a></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-47075959229830809392024-03-08T21:47:00.002+00:002024-03-09T10:47:46.236+00:00Wicked it might be, but it's also confused<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKoxoE0HeAOfdOyWuYMBEjxLWGqJ1qz90iV1gniq0Fep7RSb2ki0FgtZF9wsk4A-7C4TZtx6nolgeyt5vh_WPRLD-Z8prperE-wYWXriPtfqjXvR8BNgWvFsG83HuPpIl_04fZSKSaqZ2zLHA61votikjZvjJWtzIGJwc3HrWZh4jbxH3UaW8eRH_pni_5/s1000/Wicked%20Little%20Letters.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="1000" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKoxoE0HeAOfdOyWuYMBEjxLWGqJ1qz90iV1gniq0Fep7RSb2ki0FgtZF9wsk4A-7C4TZtx6nolgeyt5vh_WPRLD-Z8prperE-wYWXriPtfqjXvR8BNgWvFsG83HuPpIl_04fZSKSaqZ2zLHA61votikjZvjJWtzIGJwc3HrWZh4jbxH3UaW8eRH_pni_5/s320/Wicked%20Little%20Letters.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">Here is a real oddity:</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Wicked Little Letters</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">is billed as a black comedy but, while it manages to be that, it also has something of an identity crisis.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Based on the true story of a poison pen scandal in the seaside town of Littlehampton that scandalised England in the 1920s, Thea Sharrock’s film tells the story of neighbours Edith Swan and Rose Gooding.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When the latter moves in, she soon becomes known for her rambunctious behaviour – not least boozing and swearing.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">By contrast, Rose is the pious, stay-at-home daughter of Victoria and Edward, a domineering man with very firm ideas about ‘proper’ behaviour – particularly when it comes to women.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When a series of obscene letters being arriving for Edith, suspicion falls on Rose. As the situation escalates, police officer Gladys May decides to investigate, having concluded that the case isn’t quite as straightforward as almost everyone else believes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is much that is genuinely comic in Jonny Sweet’s screenplay, but the story has a very dark reality to it. The identity crisis is because of moments where there are instances of the comedy moving into mugging and slapstick. These are not a comfortable fit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It’s a shame, because there’s much to enjoy here – not least in the performances. There’s delightful support from Joanna Scanlon, Lolly Adefope and Eileen Atkins as local women who help Moss. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Gemma Jones gives as lovely turn as Victoria and Timothy Spall is excellent as the deeply unpleasant Edward.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Anjana Vasan has some really fine moments as Moss, but she’s one of the cast who has been directed to go over the top in a couple of scenes. Malachi Kirby, as Bill – Rose’s boyfriend – seems to have been faced with a very scant sketch of a character to work with.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But the central duo are a major reason to see this. Jessie Buckley as Rose brings wonderful vivacity and warmth to the role, but real emotion when it’s needed. Olivia Colman as Edith is delicious as the prissy wannabe saint, but every bit as good in the scenes where we discover the lived reality behind this public face.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">Wicked Little Letters</span></i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"> is good on showing just how women were expected to behave at the time – and how they were judged if they refused to conform (pressures that have notion away a century on). It also acts as a useful reminder that ‘trolling’ existed well before the internet and social media – and the damage that it can do.</span></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-42686124402209868742024-03-02T21:34:00.002+00:002024-03-02T21:35:11.517+00:00A sensitive film about first love and self-discovery<p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_t6Zfo-UWaOWwJYZeufHkSzt7whTC8YgGsEbBo-0WFo2WHA0jyQNyslLtpVz4bjf7g3os6Jx2ths326VwxoIrO6pf1haVQNdV7KuETruSPrG0OAqyfXmseOm7XI9_m1RO6f4Qm2G0QlagwgeUaFaLul-QD0NWnr7n0zAM_sxlXQReQHAAOGJxMxE9km3/s1920/Call%20Me%20by%20Your%20Name.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_t6Zfo-UWaOWwJYZeufHkSzt7whTC8YgGsEbBo-0WFo2WHA0jyQNyslLtpVz4bjf7g3os6Jx2ths326VwxoIrO6pf1haVQNdV7KuETruSPrG0OAqyfXmseOm7XI9_m1RO6f4Qm2G0QlagwgeUaFaLul-QD0NWnr7n0zAM_sxlXQReQHAAOGJxMxE9km3/s320/Call%20Me%20by%20Your%20Name.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Browsing Sky Cinema for something to watch, I came across Luca Guadagnino’s 2017 coming-of-age romantic drama,<span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i>Call Me by Your Name</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">. I knew next to nothing about it, but drawn by seeing Timothée Chalamet’s name, I decided to dive in.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;">Adapted from André Aciman’s 2007 novel of the same name by James Ivory, it tells of a summer romance between the precocious Elio Perlman, the 17-year-old son of archaeology professor Samuel, and Oliver, a 24-year-old graduate, who is staying at the family’s summer home in northern Italy to assist Samuel.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;">Set in 1983, Elio initially thinks he has little in common with the older man – indeed, that he is arrogant. But gradually, he’s drawn toward him and starts to understand that he sexually attracted to him.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;">It’s not difficult to see why it was critically acclaimed and won a batch of awards – including an Oscar and Bafta for best adapted screenplay for Ivory.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;">The look of it is beautiful – Sayombhu Mukdeeprom’s cinematography is excellent. The film uses music so well – Elio is obsessed with music, plying piano and guitar, transposing music and adapting a piece of early Bach to perform it in the styles of later composer (Chalamet plays both piano and classical guitar in the film).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;">The central cast is very good indeed. Not just Chalamet, but Armie Hammer as Oliver bring great intelligence and sensitivity to their roles. Amira Casar as Annella, Elio’s mother also deserves a mention, as does Michael Stuhlbarg’s father seems light for the main, but gets a superb final scene of great emotional depth.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;">The age difference between the main characters was controversial for some – particularly in the US, where the lowest age of consent was higher than in Italy.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;">Two writers in the American journal, <i>Psychiatric Times</i>, said the central relationship was “about asexual predation” and asked whether one scene in particular was “appropriate” (the scene involves alcohol), perhaps forgetting that it’s a work of fiction, adapted from another work of fiction – and fiction doesn’t have to deal with “appropriate” or that cultural differences do actually happen.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: helvetica;">One imagines a substantial element of that was a certain type of American prudery – not just about sex, but also about teenagers having a drink (though a gun is fine).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="line-height: 21.466665267944336px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">An enjoyable, sensitive and beautiful film about self-discovery.</span></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-18491887891831258732024-02-29T23:50:00.004+00:002024-03-01T00:11:24.456+00:00Death in Venice – a fine adaptation of Mann's novella<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdtR0us-X8sOKkF8-F-KvTA4_tHkf1Rb9QoteGk6H2UZFRS_2eomsn2vadl4tvp9vLh9valTwPdB3H2060rQ3Xs8fRwyaNvhhQWpVffdCG5JLr1n2TYPMCXUaAlBNKrresN_9QXIVmX3gy1abhd9bd-t6_pXTuJZr5OFClb0PXteCpiQAyFtcWTPPLbrk/s2400/Death%20in%20Venice.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="2400" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdtR0us-X8sOKkF8-F-KvTA4_tHkf1Rb9QoteGk6H2UZFRS_2eomsn2vadl4tvp9vLh9valTwPdB3H2060rQ3Xs8fRwyaNvhhQWpVffdCG5JLr1n2TYPMCXUaAlBNKrresN_9QXIVmX3gy1abhd9bd-t6_pXTuJZr5OFClb0PXteCpiQAyFtcWTPPLbrk/s320/Death%20in%20Venice.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It’s the last day of February – and therefore the last day of LGBT+ History Month – so to conclude my thematic viewing on that basis, a repeat watch of Luchino Visconti’s 1971 adaptation of<span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Death in Venice</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">.</span><p></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Gustav von Aschenbach</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">is a German composer in the early 20</span><sup style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">th</sup><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> century. Suffering ill health, grief and a crisis in his work, he journeys to Venice to recover. </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">At his hotel, he sees a beautiful young boy, Tadzio, and becomes utterly besotted. While never making verbal or physical contact, Aschenbach</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">follows the boy and his family around, his own personal crises increasing rapidly, while at the same time,</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><em style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">La Serenissima faces an increasing health problem.</span></em></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">The film is an adaptation of Thomas Mann’s 1912 novella, which I first read in 2001. A German friend had introduced me to Mann, recommending</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Buddenbrooks</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">. Having read – and been captivated by that – I looked for more.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">I knew the title of</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Death in Venice</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">– but nothing more. I bought it, read the short stories that fill out most volumes and then the novella itself – albeit slowly. I was utterly blown away by the novella. Having spent the decades since my very late teens believing that</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Lord of the Rings</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">was the greatest thing ever written, such a faith was utterly and irrevocably changed.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">I have long attempted to write myself and, at that point, was doing so quite regularly. But I was stopped in my tracks by</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Death in Venice</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">. My gods – you could do something like this in a ‘story’? The words wouldn’t come. It was some considerable time before I could even attempt fiction again.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">Indeed, the Late OH and I were visiting friends on the west Irish coast, at the beginning of this century. We were walking by the sea, and I noticed that the wind was sending a fine spray of sand hovering horizontally above the beach itself – as if it were a sandy magic carpet. Desperate to describe to myself – and thereby understand – what I was seeing, suddenly the words started tumbling out of me again.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">In 2010, the Late OH and I had done A Very Big Once-in-a-Lifetime Trip for his fifteeth: the Orient Express to Venice. I took a certain book by one Agatha Christie with me. When we visited again, in early 2017, I took the Mann, and sat reading it briefly on the beach in front of the hotel – </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #202122;">Grand Hotel des Bains –</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> in the film. It’s also the hotel in the novella, where Mann was staying when he was inspired to write it.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">When my own fifteeth approached, it was a question of what I’d do. I decided that I wanted a brief trip abroad on my own, having never done so previously, for all sorts of reasons; fear and lack of money being primary.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">I thought of cooking classes in Sicily and art schools in France. And found myself ultimately terrified. And then I reached a conclusion: Lübeck, where Mann himself had hailed from and where Günter Grass, another German literary laureate and personal hero, lived. And also, because the language beyond English that I know best is German, having been studying it in an – often random way – for a couple of decades now.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;">I recall sitting with a coffee, outside a cafe in old medieval Lübeck, blanket dove my knees (it was 'Baltic' cold!) and listening to a superb violinist play the adagiettio from Mahler's fifth </span>symphony, an iconic piece of music that has becomes the film's theme.</p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">That trip was a rite of passage – better late than never, I guess. But that’s an indicator of what Mann and his work means to me.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">On my sixtieth birthday, in December 2022, The Late OH gave me a signed, English-language edition of three short stories by Mann. It meant – and means – so much.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">I feel as though I’m going through another explosion of personal growth right now – akin with the language experience in Ireland. Watching</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Victim</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">a couple of nights ago, and</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Death in Venice</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">tonight, I seem to be seeing and reading more in films than I did previously. There are words in my head that would not have been in my useable vocabulary previously. Yet they’re there now. And a different way of seeing and reading is also there.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">But enough of me. To the film itself. It is beautiful to watch – Pasqualino De Santis’s cinematography is wonderful. It frequently looks like an Impressionist painting. By the way, if you wonder if the green of the lagoon is accurate – yes, it is.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">There are issues about how Björn Andrésen, who plays Tadzio, feels in retrospect about the film – to be clear, he has spoken of great discomfort etc, but never of any physical abuse from anyone involved in the making of it.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">The film is not as subtle as Mann’s novella, but it is still a thing of great beauty – and a contemplation of beauty, and the debilitating sense of guilt about who you are at your most intrinsic level.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">And then there is Dirk Bogarde as </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">von Aschenbach</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">. There is so little dialogue in the film as a whole, but Bogarde does so much with his facial expressions, including on some very, very long shots. It is a superb performance. And it is a superb film.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-74178037994872720212024-02-27T19:08:00.004+00:002024-02-28T17:16:39.200+00:00Victim: Dirk Bogarde helps the UK turn a corner on LGBT+ rights<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq09n8EYxdjvocDyF2brVuGQF5EsJy6T2leMQzSZNCJycMMWnwdc-TNrqPRzkUI6513NblM6eM7QvpD1Rb5Ru-eoIzEY-vVOQ6BIB9RZ0mBJ485csO-WA_rw5Qd29oQlgH2xssdwiCG-HYWfksnrvreNde8phfItLB9kfuzBCpVQ8qYOel6EK8sw5m-03x/s1200/Victim.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1200" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq09n8EYxdjvocDyF2brVuGQF5EsJy6T2leMQzSZNCJycMMWnwdc-TNrqPRzkUI6513NblM6eM7QvpD1Rb5Ru-eoIzEY-vVOQ6BIB9RZ0mBJ485csO-WA_rw5Qd29oQlgH2xssdwiCG-HYWfksnrvreNde8phfItLB9kfuzBCpVQ8qYOel6EK8sw5m-03x/s320/Victim.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">This evening wasn’t the first time I’ve watched Basil Dearden’s 1961 noirish suspense film<span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Victim</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">, but there was so much more that I ‘saw’ and appreciated on a second viewing.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Melville Farr</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> is a successful London barrister, married – apparently happily – to Laura. But he is drawn into a scandal when Jack ‘Boy’ Barrett, a young man he had had a secret romantic relationship with (not consummated) is arrested for stealing from his employer and hangs himself in a police cell rather than risk naming Farr under interrogation.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">It emerges that Barrett was one of the victims of a gang of blackmailers targeting gay men – the reason for the thefts.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Yet ironically, when he’d tried to contact Farr for help, the barrister had refused his calls, assuming that they were attempts at blackmail.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">When Farr learns of Barrett’s suicide, he decides that, whatever the personal cost – and there will be a large one – he will ensure justice is served on the blackmailers.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">As with any form of culture, film has the power to change minds and inform debate, but with a wider reach than, say, theatre, its potential power is increased.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">The influence of</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Victim</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">can hardly be overstated.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">It was written by Janet Green and John McCormick, after the former had read the 1957</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Wolfenden</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Report, which had recommended that “homosexual behaviour between consenting adults in private should no longer be a criminal offence”.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Green already had ‘form’ for screenplays about social issues: the 1959 film</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Sapphire</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">dealt with racism in London toward West Indian immigrants. She’d also penned the excellent 1950 thriller (which sadly seems to have been almost forgotten)</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Clouded Yellow</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">, starring Trevor Howard and Jean Simmons.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Victim</span></i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">, however, was of a different order – explicitly </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156;">proselytising against the law, not least on the basis that, as </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Wolfenden</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> had stated, the law as it stood was a “blackmailer’s charter”. It was to be hugely influential in changing attitudes so that homosexuality was decriminalised in 1967.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">The film faced problems with censors in the UK and US. Yet it is not remotely voyeuristic or sensationalistic. It is, however, clearly sympathetic to its gay characters – and it is equally important in another context, in that they come from more than one social class and transverse that in their relationships.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Sylvia Syms turns in a really fine performance as Laura. In an indication of how difficult the subject was, the role had been turned down by a number of actors. But Syms had worked on stage with John Gielgud – an experience that had enlightened her about the impact of the law at that time – while she had also known a family friend who had ended their own life after being accused of being gay.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Peter McEnery gives a great turn as the vulnerable ‘Boy’ Barrett. As does Denis Price as the – closeted bisexual? – theatre star Calloway.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">But this ultimately belongs to Dirk Bogarde as Farr. Gay himself – but never out – he apparently leapt at the chance, after several other stars had turned the role down (including James Mason and Stewart Granger). It transformed him from a matinée idol who had played romantic, comedy and action leads, to an art-house, European and intellectual film star.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">It is a searing performance. If you have only ever seen Bogarde in one of the Doctor films, alongside the likes of James Robertson Justice and Leslie Phillips, then this will be a revelation.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">While remaining silent about his own personal life, it was not the only gay role Bogarde played. In</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Luchino Visconti</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">‘s 1971 adaptation of Thomas Mann’s novella,</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Death in Venice</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">, he held centre stage again as the gay</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Gustav von Aschenbach</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Victim</span></i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> is not only a genuinely good film – it is also a very socially significant film. If you haven’t already, check it out.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-87933645894510735862024-02-25T20:12:00.001+00:002024-02-25T20:12:35.518+00:00A film about religious difference transcends religion<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3I9XTr_ZpYZH6yYiEYbXoViQDmlWwoaMVDlUC4c1v08ZaaSjJOw7MWkdiROmzeBcXh39uW6QpR00YpoZUurIwlfSO30uz7O4OZ08IOy1ouBX6J8Ib6cHxsQM6sXH2thngbdD02iPGjNkW2VzOjWms7g-GoibfZsUSy2hsxs5Zy3VHwWQpXXkP0QSA3uD/s1356/Two%20Popes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="1356" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3I9XTr_ZpYZH6yYiEYbXoViQDmlWwoaMVDlUC4c1v08ZaaSjJOw7MWkdiROmzeBcXh39uW6QpR00YpoZUurIwlfSO30uz7O4OZ08IOy1ouBX6J8Ib6cHxsQM6sXH2thngbdD02iPGjNkW2VzOjWms7g-GoibfZsUSy2hsxs5Zy3VHwWQpXXkP0QSA3uD/s320/Two%20Popes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It’s early 2005 and Jorge Bergoglio, the archbishop of Buenos Aires, travels to the Vatican after the death of Pope John Paul II in order to elect a new pope. Joseph Ratzinger – arch-Catholic conservative and inheritor of the mantle of grand inquisitor – is elected.<p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">He treats Bergoglio with disdain, but the religiously liberal – and certainly sharing many of the core ideas of liberation theology – Argentine is the only real challenger to the Bavarian’s ascent.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Some years later, Bergoglio travels to Rome to ask permission to resign as an archbishop and return to being a parish priest.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">He is astonished to find that he had booked his flight before receiving a letter from Ratzinger – now Pope Benedict XVI – calling him to the Vatican.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">They meet at the pope’s summer residence, the luxurious Palace of Castel Gandolfo, where they engage in theological debate, with Benedict tetchily disagreeing with every point that Bergoglio makes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Yet in the evening, after dinner – which Benedict always takes alone – a thaw begins as they move away from the theological and into a more personal socialisation.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">However, scandal – financial and in terms off sex abuse – has been hovering over the church. And the next day, after Benedict is called back to Rome as matters worsen, Bergoglio is told to meet him there the following morning.</span></p><p><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Two Popes</i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> is a 2019 film, written by Anthony McCarten, adapted from his own play, <i>The Pope</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It’s been argued that it’s easy to see its theatrical origins, but Fernando Meirelles’s direction and Céasar Charlone’s cinematography ensure that it doesn’t feel static or stagebound.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Having come from a very conservatively religious background myself (albeit from a different Christian denomination), and having gone through a fundamentalist, evangelical religious period in my teens (embarrassingly, I tried to ‘convert’ fellow pupils in the lunch break), I don’t think this will upset anyone of faith, unless they are particularly unyielding in terms of a single perspective or interpretation.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Equally, I came to it today as someone who no longer has a faith and whose background was very much anti-Catholic – though my clergyman father loved nothing better than sharing whiskey with the local priest in our time in a Pennine mill town, a relationship that was far more friendly to him than any with an Anglican cleric.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It feels apt to say here that my own journey was slow. I drifted first from evangelical fervour to fairly high Anglicanism (I liked the theatre of it).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">A few years further on, travelling on a train within the outer reaches of London and sporting badges on my jacket representing the Communist Party of Britain, a Christian fish symbol </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">(<span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">ichthys</span>)</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> and a green star, I was challenged by another passenger as to what that all meant. I replied that I thought of myself as a “green, Christian communist”. So yes, I know what ‘liberation theology’ means.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">He had an unopened can of beer and gave it to me, getting off at the next station.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Some years later, filling out the census, I realised, with a certain amount of surprise, that I had no faith left. Under no pressure, it had dissipated. Like the smoke from the extinguished candles in this film.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">A period of Dawkinesque detestation of organised religion followed, but thankfully that too dissipated quickly. Now, I can happily visit churches (not – yet – a mosque, synagogue or temple) and always do so quietly and with respect. Apart from anything else, I actually take off the inevitable hat I will be wearing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Though isn’t that strange? When my mother married my father, women going to church would be expected to wear a hat – and keep it on (an echo of the ‘modesty’ expected in the more conservative realms of Christianity’s fellow Abrahamic faiths, Judaism and Islam). Yet I always take mine off in a church – whether in the UK or abroad. It’s a very basic sign of respect for me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">As the protagonists of this film discuss, ‘times change’.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">This is essentially an intellectual/theological two-hander conversation – and it’s really engaging as that. The time doesn’t feel strained.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Anthony Hopkins as Ratzinger/Benedict – as with so much work he has done late in his career – is nuanced and fantastic. There is also massive credit to be paid to </span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Juan Minujín, who plays </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Bergoglio</span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> in earlier years.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">However, Jonathon Pryce as Bergoglio (later, Pope Francis) arguably gives the finest film performance of his career. The pain, the guilt (over his own actions during the time of the Argentinian military junta) are clearly covered – and are very, very moving.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">This really is an excellent film. Available on Netflix, it is very much worth a watch.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-61812806031465915782024-02-24T17:31:00.000+00:002024-02-24T17:31:03.656+00:00Zone of Interest: A haunting look at casual barbarism<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVmT1Al7_k57CvRMz3G5PYj3NAy6iGfRroyBP-jkn1BmggmBSGPX4QgiwyL7hKEGaS8N1vIuIRW0xNPj4OPaIrCXDDLPsS_vuseTNh4WLMLdoMMDKLJAN1siKMNM116t4S7Y7q3-7PAzjMPTSXMjLmSdDMn_wfaCGoC8F23v7etH1WCfZk81qj5TH9wRf1/s1200/Zone%20of%20Interest.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVmT1Al7_k57CvRMz3G5PYj3NAy6iGfRroyBP-jkn1BmggmBSGPX4QgiwyL7hKEGaS8N1vIuIRW0xNPj4OPaIrCXDDLPsS_vuseTNh4WLMLdoMMDKLJAN1siKMNM116t4S7Y7q3-7PAzjMPTSXMjLmSdDMn_wfaCGoC8F23v7etH1WCfZk81qj5TH9wRf1/s320/Zone%20of%20Interest.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Jonathon Glazer’s acclaimed film,<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Zone of Interest</i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">, is about the commandant of Auschwitz, Rudolf Höss, who lives right next door to the camp, where he and his wife Hedwig have built an idyllic family life.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Based loosely on Martin Amis’s novel of the same name, it creates an incredibly effective picture of the casual barbarism. On Höss’s birthday, for instance, he holds a meeting with engineers to discuss plans for more effective crematoria at the camp, before being toasted by his fellow officers and enjoying cake with his family later that day.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Hedwig is more than happy to receive clothes taken from camp inmates. We see her try on a fur coat and, finding a lipstick in one pocket, try that too.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Her visiting mother muses, almost jokingly, whether a Jewish woman she knew, and whose book events she attended, had been sent to Auschwitz. And in a throw-away comment, she notes that she was out-bid for the woman’s curtains in a street sale.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">It is the normalisation of the dehumanisation that’s vital for genocide.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Repeatedly, the camera tracks a figure down one length of the vast garden, alongside the wall of the camp, with its buildings, chimneys and guard towers rising above.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Hedwig happily takes her youngest child around the magnificent garden, introducing her to flowers, while in the distance, we hear the sounds of the camp.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Glazer didn’t want to show the inside of Auschwitz – and he doesn’t have to for the film to convey a real sense of horror.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Sound designer Johnnie Burn put together a 600-page document in order to understand the camp layout and witness statements, together with a sound library that included the sounds of crematoria, machinery, historically correct gunfire, cries of pain and trains.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">It is a soundscape that means however perfect the Höss family’s life looks, the viewer can never see it without being reminded that it happened within earshot of industrial mass murder – and that they all choose to ignore this.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And then there are the two central performances. Christian <span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Friedel</span> as Höss is so utterly engrossed in work that it is a mission – no matter the horrific reality of it, and Friedel portrays him as cold when on that mission, yet a dedicated and loving father. Sandra Hüller as his wife is also superb – little wonder that she has picked up a raft of award nominations – as a woman who is happy to bring up her children in such proximity to mass murder.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122;">Łukasz Żal</span>’s <span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">cinematography is deceptively simple – almost ‘flat’. Yet the look works incredibly well.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Glazer – who also wrote the film – has received nominations too. The film itself has already picked up awards, including the unique double of best British film and best film not in the English language at the recent Baftas.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Burn, together with Tarn Willers, have also been rewarded for the sound.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">It is in many ways a very calm film, but most certainly not a comfortable one. It is, without doubt, an extraordinary piece of filmmaking that will not be easy to forget.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><br /></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-63226717495110981552024-02-23T20:48:00.000+00:002024-02-23T20:48:03.594+00:00Orlando – throughly entertaining queerness<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHKDIAxDpOC_aBo61GZaeUALSmfxF9DFN-P0Ap3jW7pN9TEOXtv0eOuvepvRwcMi8k7gR71ns_WA63iTkOgZGXluCuHzgUlllSumHXkH7Tmb4HCdOUNWtjStyatNLnBNnLH2MbRrGcDHo-GDFwVPNXmuobFfYaJHNvcmwtXW3mgDfMema1GCxNTxYZOB8V/s1000/Orlando%20Tilda%20Swinton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHKDIAxDpOC_aBo61GZaeUALSmfxF9DFN-P0Ap3jW7pN9TEOXtv0eOuvepvRwcMi8k7gR71ns_WA63iTkOgZGXluCuHzgUlllSumHXkH7Tmb4HCdOUNWtjStyatNLnBNnLH2MbRrGcDHo-GDFwVPNXmuobFfYaJHNvcmwtXW3mgDfMema1GCxNTxYZOB8V/s320/Orlando%20Tilda%20Swinton.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It was time for another spot of film catch-up this evening – and back to an effort at being thematic for LGBT+ History Month – with a first viewing of Sally Potter’s 1992 adaptation of<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Orlando</i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">, Virginia Woolf’s 1928 novel of the same name.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The film opens in 1600, with aristocratic youth Orlando pondering over his loneliness and his desire to write poetry. When his family is visited by Elizabeth I, the aged monarch takes to him, making him her “mascot” and granting him property and money. There’s one condition:</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">“</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Do not fade. Do not wither. Do not grow old”, she orders.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In the novel, there is no explanation of how Orlando becomes immortal, but Potter added this to the film to suggest how this occurs, feeling that a cinema audience would need at least a hint.\</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">As part of the wider court of James I, he becomes utterly besotted with Sasha, a beautiful Cossack, who is visiting with her father. But when she dumps him, he’s left to muse on the “treachery” of women.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Time passes and, in the 18</span><sup style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">century, the eternally unchanging Orlando – nobody ever comments on this, ‘because it’s England’ – is appointed ambassador to the Ottoman Empire. There he enjoys a brotherly friendship with the Khan, before participating in a battle.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Shocked at seeing his first violent death, he flees and falls into a deep sleep for seven days. On waking, he discovers that he has become a she. Heading back to England, Orlando is stripped of her home on the basis of being a woman – and thus effectively “legally dead”.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Somehow, she continues living there until the time of Victoria, where she has an accidental meeting with Shelmerdine</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">, an American revolutionary, with whom she enjoys a passionate fling, before he departs for home. She refuses to join him – and muses on the “treachery” of men – before her life takes her into the 20</span><sup style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> century, through the mud of Flanders and beyond, to 1990s London, where she has a young daughter.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It's not a devastating script, but there is wit – not least in the wonderful to-camera shots of Tilda Swinton as Orlando, where Potter has her break the fourth wall.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It is beautifully shot – cinematography was by Alexsei Rodionov – and beyond Swinton’s fabulous performance, which really grounds the film, it has a wonderful ensemble cast.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Billy Zane posts a nice turn as Shelmerdine</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">, but one of the real joys here is Quentin Crisp as Elizabeth I – “the Queen of Queens”, according to Potter – which also adds to the queerness of the whole thing.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPsUZI-LVZXs1tKmksVZZXyC4x0bVodgGnzYtsjQot-QRHdR_I12gCH5zkTafswIpmJ4KqOcH_bwJvZIJrSyy6RP6KHTEQXN7WAuUDyIRRBFiL9NrNeRJu_nJAkfm5sthHH38LFYhg6UQ49SjWKhHMyvWaErS3bwHUkC2v-1i-x-V5pFPVYaa5y6TiPBTU/s1000/Orlando%20Tilda%20Swinton%20and%20Quentin%20Crisp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="629" data-original-width="1000" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPsUZI-LVZXs1tKmksVZZXyC4x0bVodgGnzYtsjQot-QRHdR_I12gCH5zkTafswIpmJ4KqOcH_bwJvZIJrSyy6RP6KHTEQXN7WAuUDyIRRBFiL9NrNeRJu_nJAkfm5sthHH38LFYhg6UQ49SjWKhHMyvWaErS3bwHUkC2v-1i-x-V5pFPVYaa5y6TiPBTU/s320/Orlando%20Tilda%20Swinton%20and%20Quentin%20Crisp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Then there’s Jimmy Sommerville, Kathryn Hunter, Simon Russell Beale and Toby Jones among many other familiar faces, while John Wood provides a delightful cameo as a bumptious, elderly archduke who falls for Orlando.</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Potter’s direction moves things at a nice pace – easy to expect an epic, given the century-spanning scale of the story – but it’s just 93 minutes. She also wrote the screenplay and the music (the latter, along with David Motion and, for one song, Sommerville).</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It’s thoroughly entertaining – and with the added spice of the gender politics, not least in terms of the differing attitudes toward men and women throughout history.</span></p><p><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34);">And as <i>Vogu</i>e put it in 2020: </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">“</span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34);">Nearly three decades later, Sally Potter's </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34);">Orlando is more topical than ever</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">”</span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34);">.</span></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-89097506340040823732024-02-22T23:24:00.002+00:002024-02-23T11:00:44.646+00:00My Neighbour Totoro – taking joyful to the extreme<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikag4ELUTsxY73OLFwErI7-lA2C5zgtvHw8d-wvn6NDDV77bfzwWWavokBKBqo8elLe__2LhYtWdHwFX-dnoyP-6CfaH8YFBTDO9rywFx62Kix7qCvCt7rc7n9WpuQtPZ5-u_MiVXRCprytWjKDRiMdO2dKxGGWBSERysZeSo9E08HdmdCtppzqDV_IU_8/s1024/my-neighbor-totoro-hero.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikag4ELUTsxY73OLFwErI7-lA2C5zgtvHw8d-wvn6NDDV77bfzwWWavokBKBqo8elLe__2LhYtWdHwFX-dnoyP-6CfaH8YFBTDO9rywFx62Kix7qCvCt7rc7n9WpuQtPZ5-u_MiVXRCprytWjKDRiMdO2dKxGGWBSERysZeSo9E08HdmdCtppzqDV_IU_8/s320/my-neighbor-totoro-hero.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Back in mid-autumn, as I was coming out of the initial dark phase of my partner of 34-plus years having died, I started rather frenetically booking cultural events. The quoted reviews on the trailer for the return of the RSC production of</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">My Neighbour Totoro</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">at the Barbican particularly caught my eye. One, from</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Stage</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">, declared that it was a “huge healing hug of a show”.</span></span><p></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">Got me right there. I had no knowledge of Studio Ghibli or any of its films, but a “healing hug” sounded like a bloody good idea! I bought a ticket.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">I mentioned this to my niece</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> who, while envious of the theatre ticket, told me in no uncertain terms to ‘see the film first’.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Then, as we neared Christmas, I saw cinema trailers for a new Studio Ghibli film,</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Boy and the Heron</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">. It looked worth watching – so I made it the centre of my Boxing Day. And was blown away.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">I subsequently ordered</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Tortoro</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">and</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Spirited Away</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">on discs – better than streaming, not least given the home cinema set-up I have.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Spirited Away</span></i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> was the centrepiece of my New Year’s Day – and I loved it.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">And so I came to watching</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Totoro</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">this evening, as my theatre date with the Japanese troll is on Monday.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">Wow – just wow.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">I</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">t’s set in 1950s Japan, where kind university professor Tatsuo Kusakabe and his daughters Satsuki and Mei (10 and four years old, respectively) move into an old house in a rural environment, close to a hospital where their mother is recovering from a long-term illness.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The children start seeing – and interacting with – varied sprites and supernatural beings, including Totoro, a giant (fluffy) troll.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">There are familiar themes from the Ghibli films I’ve previously seen: children finding themselves in new environments after a move; lonely, disoriented and distressed by family loss</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">; nature, adventures that lead to supernatural encounters.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is a short film (blessings be upon the studio!) but absolutely gorgeous and utterly joyful! By the end, I had tears streaming down my face while also wearing a Cheshire cat (like the cat bus) grin.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 6pt 0cm;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">Directed and co-written by Hayao Miyazaki, it is an absolute joy. Wondrous.</span></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-86753713212380263552024-02-16T23:39:00.008+00:002024-02-17T15:47:43.826+00:00Prussianism meets lesbianism in 1931 school drama<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkkt0W2X48SM3B7kRGgSdOFv_9_swFjL2YmVQBDc1qP2MglKyPJ6w-QtsYHcpk8glRa90VWTgbEAnKVEsHoECGDX8dYXK4EwuuWOiH-CdZALUWO-l-x9hMtzQC8kOoLOjyggg2y2hb2w4DXx1mMapq3IvrRffDHuq29FRLCLAoGw8EVrPgCv-n1MIkj0d/s600/Madchen.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="483" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkkt0W2X48SM3B7kRGgSdOFv_9_swFjL2YmVQBDc1qP2MglKyPJ6w-QtsYHcpk8glRa90VWTgbEAnKVEsHoECGDX8dYXK4EwuuWOiH-CdZALUWO-l-x9hMtzQC8kOoLOjyggg2y2hb2w4DXx1mMapq3IvrRffDHuq29FRLCLAoGw8EVrPgCv-n1MIkj0d/s320/Madchen.jpg" width="258" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span>In </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif;">Mädchen in Uniform</i><span face="sans-serif" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); color: #202122;">, t</span></span><span>he apparently difficult Manuela von Meinhardis (‘you’re big for 14’ – ‘I’m 14 and a half’), whose mother died when she was young and whose father serves in the Prussian military, is enrolled by her aunt at an all-girls boarding school headed by strict disciplinarian Fräulein von Nordeck zur Nidden.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">An emotional child, she is drawn to teacher Fräulein von Bernburg</span>, who has a considerably kinder attitude toward the girls than the head and the rest of the teaching staff.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">But while most of the girls have a crush on the teacher, for Manuela it becomes more serious, with hints too of the same from Fräulein von Bernburg</span>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span>While this is a film from Germany’s extraordinary Weimar era, you probably won’t guess at how it works itself out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span>Written by Christa Winsloe (with FD Andam and based on Winsloe’s own play, <i>Gestern und heute</i> – <i>Yesterday and Today</i>), it’s set firmly at the start of the 20<sup>th</sup> century.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">The themes are clear – from the head’s austere version of “Prussianism”, insisting that even if the school is struggling financially and the girls go hungry as a result, “</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;">poverty is not a sin; poverty enobles<span class="apple-converted-space">”; that the girls come from military and aristocratic stock and will, ‘God willing’, become mothers to more Prussian soldiers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span>“Discipline and order” are paramount here.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;">None of this is far-fetched. I went to the state Lancaster Girls’ Grammar School in the late 1970s and into the 1980s – and the head in this film reminds me absolutely of our head then, Miss Owen (albeit the film version is infinitely thinner) with her deputy, Mrs Rigby, reminiscent of </span></span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); color: #202122;">Fräulein von Kesten</span>, a<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"> smarmy adjutant.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span>It is a remarkable film that I ‘discovered’ via a <a href="http://www.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/news-bfi/features/30-best-lgbt-films-all-time">BFI list of 30 best LGBT+ films</a>.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span>Directed by Leontine Sagan – her first film – and with an all-female cast, i</span></span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;">t’s astonishingly filmed, remarkably naturalistic – yet with nods to the visual look of German Expressionism – and wonderfully acted. The stand-out performances are from </span></span>Hertha Thiele a<span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">s Manuela, </span><span class="mw-page-title-main">Dorothea Wieck </span>as <span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Fräulein von Bernburg</span> and <span class="mw-page-title-main">Emilia Unda as the headmistress.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span>A really powerful lesbian film for LGBT+ History Month.</span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-91905611930501099372024-02-15T18:32:00.000+00:002024-02-15T18:32:04.730+00:00Andrew McMillan's debut novel, Pity, packs a big punch<p><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiIbCY_CKiCBGlqYO2dFtEj5qoQnCE2hfVJ-_lPJmbD7ChHCF30JttMf6t8W1W-OyVFCnELMpLe9fWqNIbhyphenhyphenOKBkpS5o24MPwbr-sQL7x_3ULFwQd5Tt6K1av8rIzCnOIXwZ8SMcSlN3WOwKR4IL-i2F-V6t0_9eGE0IngdlZpVDbTkl0A8WYN6H1HkWk/s1000/Pity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="625" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiIbCY_CKiCBGlqYO2dFtEj5qoQnCE2hfVJ-_lPJmbD7ChHCF30JttMf6t8W1W-OyVFCnELMpLe9fWqNIbhyphenhyphenOKBkpS5o24MPwbr-sQL7x_3ULFwQd5Tt6K1av8rIzCnOIXwZ8SMcSlN3WOwKR4IL-i2F-V6t0_9eGE0IngdlZpVDbTkl0A8WYN6H1HkWk/s320/Pity.jpg" width="200" /></a></i></div><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Pity</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">, award-winning poet Andrew McMillian’s debut novel, is, at under 200 pages, feels hardly much longer than the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">archetypal</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> ‘slender volume of verse’ – but don’t let that deceive you, because this packs a powerful punch.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Set in a former mining village near Barnsley (where the author hails from), it tells the story of the men of three generations of the Banks family: Brian, his sons Brian and Alex, and Alex’s son, Simon.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The brothers had followed their father down the mines – there being little alternative at the time. Simon, born into an era after the miners’ strike and the pit closures, works in a call centre by day and as a drag performer at night. He has recently started a relationship with Ryan, a security guard in a local shopping centre who wants to become a policeman.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A group of patronising, nameless academics, spending time in the village to record the memories of those who lived through the tumultuous 1980s, observe that the years since the strike have seen almost every trace of the industry that once sustained have been obliterated.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And they are bemused that the locals they talk to are reluctant to talk of those times – and not least of a disaster that hit one of the local pits.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">McMillian tells his story in sparing terms – though throughout the book, there are brief sections that describe the local men leaving their homes in the morning to go to work, over and over; the grim reality of the ride down the pit shaft in the cage, and the bleak, dangerous work, as the coal dust works its way into the lungs of the miners.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">These sections have an incredible poetic quality. Not that they romanticise the industry – quite the opposite. It feels like a nod to WWI poetry.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the first such section, as the men walk to their work, McMillan writes: “The village, on their shoulder now, still asleep, not watching the migration of tired bodies. One of the men once said that he thought he could hear the coal ticking. Another man told him to stop talking daft. And beneath their feet, a mile down, history; waiting to be hacked into chunks and pulled out.”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It’s a motif that is repeated with slight variations throughout.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Part of the power of the novel is that it doesn’t pander to any sentimental attachment to the industry – or indeed, to the strike – while also portraying the contemporary world of work as far from perfect.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It also doesn’t seek our ‘pity’ and portrays the men as strong, yet also vulnerable and flawed.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There is little in these crucial passages to suggest that any of the men would regret not having to trudge to the mine. Yes, there’s an element of community, but it comes across more as something comparable to men going into battle rather than something remotely joyous.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">And within this context, McMillian makes a wider exploration of male identity, community, relationships, sexuality and fear. In maintaining an emotional distance from his characters, he has increased the power of this. And in a splendid example of how this can work (see Thomas Mann’s</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Death in Venice</i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">), by the end you really do care about these men.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">This is a seriously good novel about working-class, male experience in the late 20</span><sup style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">and early 21</span><sup style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">st</sup><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> century. Very much worth reading.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-61484256400780540272024-02-14T17:34:00.003+00:002024-02-15T10:00:49.764+00:00Perfect Perfect Days – an absolutely glorious new film from Wim Wenders<p><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6-KIGJfBjL-cClC_2pP03uyBY0juibQj3JpvuZr5h3VUuchRVdQEJWVtwupR0ssfXJOKsSlDGW95hSp35ozhvVpr8IQKQaik7o1DrCWGt0hDtOtyc8bgawqXXP3E774zO644jJSxz3TSGzsGNRROOkUaBbvDCnOQjY-4RF3fB_BnJx3c-S4g5Vus2k31/s1436/Perfect%20Days%20landscape%20still.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1077" data-original-width="1436" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6-KIGJfBjL-cClC_2pP03uyBY0juibQj3JpvuZr5h3VUuchRVdQEJWVtwupR0ssfXJOKsSlDGW95hSp35ozhvVpr8IQKQaik7o1DrCWGt0hDtOtyc8bgawqXXP3E774zO644jJSxz3TSGzsGNRROOkUaBbvDCnOQjY-4RF3fB_BnJx3c-S4g5Vus2k31/s320/Perfect%20Days%20landscape%20still.png" width="320" /></a></i></div><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Perfect Day</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">s is the latest film from veteran German auteur Wim Wenders. It premiered at last year’s Cannes Festival, picking up two prizes, including best actor for </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Kôji Yakusho</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">.</span><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">It has been nominated for best international feature at the forthcoming Academy Awards, becoming the first film not directed by a Japanese director to be nominated as the Japanese entry.</span><p></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">So ahead of the film opening in the UK on 23 of February, it’s easy to see why there are serious expectations.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Middle-aged Hirayama</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> works cleaning public toilets in Tokyo – a job that he takes great care and pride in. His life is a simple and highly ritualised one. He hardly ever speaks, but is polite, respectful, helpful to – and concerned about – everyone he comes into contact with.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Beyond his job, he enjoys listening to music on old-fashioned cassettes, takes care of a small indoor garden of tiny, potted trees and reads literary books each night in his humble and simple home. He eats, bathes and takes his lunch in the same places – the latter, in a park, where he photographs the trees on a compact, non-digital camera that he buys a new roll of film for on his day off once a week. On that same day off, he visits the same small bar.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">The first part of Wenders’s film shows us this is extraordinary detail, where it acts, in effect, as a meditation on meditation – a film about living as mindfully as possible and taking pleasure in the simple things in life. There is something of the monk’s life about Hirayama</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">. But there is a constant of joy constantly found in the smallest things.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">However, when Hirayama</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">’s carefully structured life is disturbed, we start to learn – obliquely, leaving the viewer to draw conclusions and realise the pain that is present – that he must have had a previous life that was quite different to the one he’s living now.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">The film had an extraordinary conception. Wenders was approached by the Tokyo Toilet project to visit a city he loves and to make small documentaries about the project, which had seen top architects design 17 public toilets in the </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #121212;">Shibuya</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> district of the city</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> – architecture being another Wenders passion.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Visiting to see said toilets, Wenders decided a fictional feature film would be a better way to showcase the new conveniences – and he convinced the project leaders that he could make such on a small budget and film it in the same 16 days they’d factored in for the mini docs.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">The result is quite extraordinary – hugely dependent on an astonishingly beautiful performance from Yakusho</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> as Hirayama.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Wenders wrote the film alongside Takuma Takasaki, with Frank Lustig as cinematographer.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">The toilets themselves are obviously crucial to this – and they are quite extraordinary pieces of civic architecture. Yet even as the camera explores them in detail – and although they were prime motivation for the film – they never threaten to overwhelm it.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">And Wenders pays as much care and attention to the Tokyo urbanscape in general, so often coming back to focus on the city’s Skytree tower, which seems to be at the hub of a physical circle within which Hirayama</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> lives and works. This is, in part, a love letter to the city and to its culture. And that culture is absolutely a working-class culture.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">There is also a thread that runs through the film, between the days, of B&W images of Hirayama</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">’s dreams, created by Donata Wenders.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">And then there is the soundtrack, from The Animals to Patti Smith to Nina Simone – and a couple of Japanese tracks, including a Japanese cover of </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The House of the Rising Sun</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> – and an absolute needle drop of Lou Reed’s </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Perfect Day</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">It’s two hours long. You might think that, from my description here, it sounds a tad tedious. Funnily enough, I saw it last night at a press screening, courtesy of a friend, who before it started, was bemoaning a film they’d seen earlier that day by a favourite director, which was an example of slow cinema and had prompted the comment that perhaps that type of film was done for.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">This, on the other hand, is mesmerising, beautiful cinema. Wenders has, one critic noted, made his “lifetime masterpiece”.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">And I will reiterate: Yakusho</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">’s performance is simply outstanding. And yes – that includes an incredible final shot. This is amazing filmmaking.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2024/feb/11/wim-wenders-perfect-days-tokyo-toilet-cleaner-paris-texas-werner-herzog" target="_blank">Interview with Wim Wenders</a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/16/britain-useless-public-loos-basic-sanitary-provision" target="_blank"><i>Guardian</i> architecture feature about the Tokyo toilets</a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-interview/wim-wenderss-cinema-of-sincerity#:~:text=Four%20decades%20and%20dozens%20of,appear%20to%20be%20total%20opposites." target="_blank"><i>New Yorker</i> interview with Wim Wenders</a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p></div>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-55316630984383590712024-02-12T16:18:00.003+00:002024-02-12T18:05:46.104+00:00Beryl Reid kills it as a sadistic lesbian in '60s London<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2NBzi96FtZiHm6MNn31DTpIz9WjoY7FSjiOX35sIa4zGyKTg6wXbSTBeDVZA2BirHsoTu1ndXkpjxxxpezCpB3qXTIHuqNkZYBShGj__xjRmyyTPAgSkC_rB8WgmTXX14je95z0WjdbtgeU0Fw_8B-TrMqZLIVPF-ovmLACgW2dc2xSXGtO_5CXI6u4d/s700/killing%20of%20sister%20george%20landscape.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="700" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2NBzi96FtZiHm6MNn31DTpIz9WjoY7FSjiOX35sIa4zGyKTg6wXbSTBeDVZA2BirHsoTu1ndXkpjxxxpezCpB3qXTIHuqNkZYBShGj__xjRmyyTPAgSkC_rB8WgmTXX14je95z0WjdbtgeU0Fw_8B-TrMqZLIVPF-ovmLACgW2dc2xSXGtO_5CXI6u4d/s320/killing%20of%20sister%20george%20landscape.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Robert Aldrich’s 1968 film,<span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Killing of Sister George</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">, was based on a 1964 stage play of the same name, by Frank Marcus. That was a black comedy, but the movie was sold much more a as a “shocking drama” – 'melodrama' would be more accurate – with a far greater explicitness about the lesbian relationships that are a central feature than the original.</span><p></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">As a result, it struggled to get past the censors on both sides of the Atlantic, while some reviews were deeply critical, with at least one accusing Aldrich of ‘coarsening’ a subtle play.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">It’s become more critically appreciated as time has passed – and it seems a fair bet that that’s largely a consequence of considerably greater acceptance of lesbianism within our society, but in 1968 – only a year after decriminalisation of homosexuality in the UK (lesbianism had never been illegal) – the very blunt portrayal of a toxic lesbian relationship must have had a lot more power to shock that it does today.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Middle-aged actor June Buckridge plays ‘Sister George’, a lovable district nurse in a fictional, long-running BBC television soap opera,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #202122;">Applehurst</span></i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Off screen, she’s the opposite of her much-loved character – gobby and coars; a cigar-smoking heavy drinker; masculine in appearance and with a decidedly sadistic side to her.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">We see that particularly in her relationship with her younger live-in lover, Alice. But if tensions in their relationship already exist, June’s problems are exacerbated by her fears that her character is going to be killed off – worries that are not helped by her own behaviour, including toward TV producer Mrs Croft, as she spirals out of control.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">It’s a fascinating watch for all sorts of reasons. Joseph F Biroc’s cinemaphotography is very stagey in places, but at others, it’s quite exhilarating. The opening title shots, as June walks home along a series of streets, are really impressive.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">There’s an interesting costume contrast here that illustrates the – apparent – power dynamics between June and Alice: the former in a heavy, brown tweed suit standing over the latter in pink baby doll pyjamas. It would be more than a bit of a cliché now, but was probably quite powerful at the time, as would have been the couple's appearance at a lesbian party in male drag.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">But the film really relies on the three central performances. Coral Browne is in steely form as the apparently conventional Mrs Croft, while Susannah York as Alice is both believably childlike and vulnerable, but convincingly hard-nosed when required.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Having created the role on stage – and won a Tony when the play transferred to Broadway – Beryl Reid was no shoe-in for the screen version, with Bette Davis and Angela Lansbury both being offered it. I love both of them, but thank goodness Reid got it. It’s a barnstormer of a performance, not least in the convincing way she portrays not only June, but in the contrasting Sister George.</span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">You can see why Aldrich wanted Davis, having worked with her on his 1962 camp classic,</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> – and this film has a sense of the same macabre camp – but casting Reid was absolutely the right decision.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Well worth seeking it out if you haven’t seen it – and not least in LGBT+ History Month.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-48723384274839802062024-02-09T19:35:00.002+00:002024-02-09T19:43:34.229+00:00The Royal Tenenbaums – an absolute catch-up joy<p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYl43YLPUly6WXh8s0bh4PcaHOIYT7BzMWy3NK0coYqIszYUzgNHftQq_bVTtb61PYoU9zxBOMtiixSU073qyN8_17mAtmO9FX6d0xyaWewswsKaOBZpBbP92ChY1VhOlj-DT06Nost5XLMxsO3LKd3aeLHN-iws4GsEopV8g06ykW9j_3nE092_S_Yxk/s1600/Tenanbaums.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1107" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYl43YLPUly6WXh8s0bh4PcaHOIYT7BzMWy3NK0coYqIszYUzgNHftQq_bVTtb61PYoU9zxBOMtiixSU073qyN8_17mAtmO9FX6d0xyaWewswsKaOBZpBbP92ChY1VhOlj-DT06Nost5XLMxsO3LKd3aeLHN-iws4GsEopV8g06ykW9j_3nE092_S_Yxk/s320/Tenanbaums.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>Playing catch-up again, I started the weekend – and it’s going to be a fairly busy (for me) few days of film watching – with sticking a disc on to watch Wes Anderson’s 2001<span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Royal Tenenbaums</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">for the first time.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Tony and my first encounter with Anderson’s utterly individual style was via a disc of</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Grand Budapest Hotel</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">, on the particularly enthusiastic recommendation of a friend/colleague who is also a part-time film critic (and is taking me to a critics’ screening next week).</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">We were seriously impressed – so much so that we saw the next three Anderson releases in the cinema.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">And as that implies, we continued to like – and increasingly ‘get’ – what we were seeing; not least, in terms of Anderson’s cinematic vernacular.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Early this evening, half an hour after finishing work, after feeding Otti cat and doing a bit of house work, I popped a Blu-ray of Tenenbaums into the slot and sat back with a tumbler of Hotel Chocolat chocolate salted caramel vodka.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">It’s brilliant – I mean the film (though the booze is excellent too).</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">A family with Royal Anderson at the head is full of success and childhood genius, yet falls from that with bickering, betrayal, deceit and also the sheer fear of others knowing the truth.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">The style is totally Anderson: colour palettes, mannered dialogue, short scenes as ‘chapters’, dysfunctional relationships, narration, and an incredible ensemble cast.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Gene Hackman, as the titular Royal Anderson, is arguably not an obvious Anderson-type actor, but gives a superb performance in one of the last films before his retirement. Such a great contrast to the likes of Popeye Doyle. Without doubt one of the finest of his career.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Angelica Huston as his wife is also simply wonderful, bringing a contrasting quietness to this central relationship.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">I was astonished to learn that Owen Wilson co-wrote the script with Anderson as well as playing a significant role. Until relatively recently, I’d only seen trailers of Wilson in films that looked (to me) like they were a waste of time – until Tony and I saw him in the first season of</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Loki</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">. And were a tad re-educated. Here – never mind finding his CV credentials being buffed by his writing credit, it’s also a very good performance, and he looks … well … buff’.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Possibly the best I’ve ever seen Gwyneth Paltrow; Bill Murray is lovely, subtle and warm in his role, and Danny Glover adds real dignity, grace and warmth too.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">I realise I haven’t mentioned Ben Stiller, who in general, I feel an active dislike for on the basic of what I see as, being in infantile bollocks. I was moving to that view here. Until late on, when he showed the ability to move from the least nuanced character to one experiencing a real revelation.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Luke Wilson too, is less well known than his brother. But really does give a great performance in this as the desperately unhappy tennis genius.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Funny and moving. Absolutely loved it. What a great start to the weekend!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-53586385102592971002024-02-04T17:11:00.000+00:002024-02-04T17:11:12.396+00:00All of Us Strangers – a moving meditation on relationships<p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dc019Uheh0_iA42hQLa7R1PvW7l1bazhSf96acUfLQa4AAzFOYXpqFzPr8RPFu3eHr6l8IrtgWGJ3D_v6fzsVKVSoT4WS46p3d_DBf0I0lEck-WOgkzTU2xQ-rJF3n5iCpUajBWOm9RAoXWOQuZbyHIWDx48GOng5Mc7NIAAXaWrSx75G4WYDEGyPqlI/s1499/All%20of%20Us%20Strangers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1499" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dc019Uheh0_iA42hQLa7R1PvW7l1bazhSf96acUfLQa4AAzFOYXpqFzPr8RPFu3eHr6l8IrtgWGJ3D_v6fzsVKVSoT4WS46p3d_DBf0I0lEck-WOgkzTU2xQ-rJF3n5iCpUajBWOm9RAoXWOQuZbyHIWDx48GOng5Mc7NIAAXaWrSx75G4WYDEGyPqlI/s320/All%20of%20Us%20Strangers.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Adam is a middle-aged screenwriter living on his own in an almost-deserted new tower block in London, from where he can gaze down and across the city, a reflection of his lifelong loneliness.</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Struggling with his latest project, he becomes aware of another resident on a lower floor. When Harry turns up at his door, drunk, with a bottle of Japanese whisky, and propositions him, Adam is quick to rebuff.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The next day, he takes a train and visits the home where he lived until he was 12, when his parents died in a car crash. There he finds it completely unchanged – and his parents are living there, frozen at the ages they were when they died.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Between increasingly frequent visits, as his parents get to know their adult son, Adam begins a relationship with Harry, where they share not only sex, but a tentative exploration of their emotions and fears.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Director and screenwriter Andrew Haigh’s feted film is based on the 1987 novel</span><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Strangers </i><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">by Taichi Yamada and is a quiet and very still meditation not only on grief, but also isolation and the fear of rejection within all our relationships.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Inevitably, given that Adam and Harry are gay – as is Haigh himself – the issue of coming out and acceptance (or lack) of being LGBT is a central part of this meditation and the script allows for an exploration of changing attitudes toward sexuality, from the time when Adam’s parents were alive to the present day (including generational differences of using gay’ or ‘queer’ to self-describe).</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Weighing in with the look back to the 1980s is the use of pop hits from Adam’s childhood – Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s</span><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Power of Love</i><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">is an absolute needle drop here – but the likes of Alison Moyet and The Pet Shop Boys are further musical pleasures that also work as a musical counterpoint to the bitterness of an era of Section 28 and the Aids panic.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jamie D Ramsey’s cinematography adds a sense of unreality to this unconventional ghost story with his use of soft focus in places throughout.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Beautifully paced, this is a four-hander, with Andrew Scott in superb form as Adam, his silences every bit as effective as his words.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Paul Mescal as Harry is in fine form, revealing the character’s vulnerability and tenderness.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jamie Bell and Claire Foy are wonderful as Adam’s parents, in tricky roles that could have been clunky stereotypes reflecting those ’80s attitudes.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The central pairing raises some interesting questions about current conversations on casting: should only actors who understand the ‘lived reality’ be cast as, say, LGBT, disabled or some ethnic characters?</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here, Scott is gay, but Pascal is not. If you go down that route, would it logically follow that, for example, Dev Patel should not have played David Copperfield? I’ll leave that with you.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In the meantime,</span><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">All of Us Strangers</i><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> is a very moving and thought-provoking film that never descends into sentimentality or simplistic tropes. And perfect for LGBT+ History Month.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f8f9fa; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-82390822381626040712024-02-03T18:57:00.004+00:002024-02-04T04:58:29.332+00:00Lady Day – a delight that avoids all the obvious tropes<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcakvtIYKpFk0AeutP-lrRTQQ3BpQa3JqCOst70njR6WJzYRBzSse277usvLRzWWd-R-ROs7B1Adu4fC9k2woZA4Olz3Pd2FVWrckLv7w52HRw_X2o7vTCPWssXPGXtJhtP4zSWTzcLp3IFP90KEn3xUP7dw_gfytbGC2k8SK6Pa1QyYYgZLmlgle-gaEw/s1600/Lady%20Bird%20poster.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcakvtIYKpFk0AeutP-lrRTQQ3BpQa3JqCOst70njR6WJzYRBzSse277usvLRzWWd-R-ROs7B1Adu4fC9k2woZA4Olz3Pd2FVWrckLv7w52HRw_X2o7vTCPWssXPGXtJhtP4zSWTzcLp3IFP90KEn3xUP7dw_gfytbGC2k8SK6Pa1QyYYgZLmlgle-gaEw/s320/Lady%20Bird%20poster.jpg" width="212" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Greta Gerwig’s 2017 feature debut, the comedy-drama coming-of-age feature<span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Lady Bird</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">, is a delight.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Catching up on the director/writer’s back catalogue after seeing</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Barbie</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">just before Christmas, I managed, on the one hand to wonder how I missed it at the time, but also to feel joy that I can have that experience now.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Christine McPherson</span><span face="Aptos, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Aptos, sans-serif">is in her final year at a Catholic high school in Sacramento, California. Her family is struggling financially</span><span face="Aptos, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Aptos, sans-serif"> and her relationship with her mother is particularly strained – she refuses to call herself by her given name, but calls herself instead, ‘Lady Bird’ – but she harbours dreams of getting a place at a prestigious East Coast college, where there’s some ‘culture’.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That might sound like a wide open door for tropes and cliches, but Gerwig takes it and makes it into something so much more complex and emotionally satisfying.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It benefits from an excellent supporting cast – not least Timothée Chalomet, Bernie Feldstein, Stephen McKinley Henderson, Lois Smith and Lucas Hedges.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But Saoirse Ronan as the titular character and Laurie Metcalf as her mother, Marion, take it to a new level.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A late scene has the camera hold on Metcalf’s face for an age, as her character comes to an emotional realisation – it is a wonderful scene from actor and director alike and just one example amid many.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Absolutely no wonder that it has garnered so many awards and such praise.</span></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-65763027326252698992024-01-28T18:43:00.003+00:002024-01-30T12:22:19.744+00:00The Holdovers is a bittersweet symphony of life<p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMwbkU0WtjvMMAzEAji7wYlymT_Oh8fUKhkWa13GPE4RtlOV5idqxepjlgfwp3bGvuqe2rx7GPM4AGpF_z5Um3RJw4YniBvAYuaiwRpGPGJvnRjY6_kI-3YvIsFvG8SJCqACaX0vo4iFWVmBdrQAQpO3MOzmdvbz5TKlJo1HgREOZkQouiagCSP1ZW4h1/s1400/Holdovers%20landscape.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="1400" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMwbkU0WtjvMMAzEAji7wYlymT_Oh8fUKhkWa13GPE4RtlOV5idqxepjlgfwp3bGvuqe2rx7GPM4AGpF_z5Um3RJw4YniBvAYuaiwRpGPGJvnRjY6_kI-3YvIsFvG8SJCqACaX0vo4iFWVmBdrQAQpO3MOzmdvbz5TKlJo1HgREOZkQouiagCSP1ZW4h1/s320/Holdovers%20landscape.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">When curmudgeonly New England classics teacher Paul Hunham makes the ‘mistake’ of honestly marking the work of a bad student at Barton Academy, with the consequence that the boy’s wealthy father backtracks on a donation to the school, he is punished by the headteacher (one of the first pupils he himself taught) by being forced to babysit the ‘holdovers’ – any boys who have to stay at the school over the Christmas holiday in 1970.</span></span><p></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">The five that do remain include troubled Angus Tully, whose mother and new stepfather have decided they don’t want him around for a delayed festive honeymoon.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">Making up the film’s central trio is Mary Lamb, the head of the school’s cafeteria. A single black mother, she took the job so that her son could have an education as a ‘Barton Boy’. But a lack of funds meant he couldn’t go on to college and instead, was conscripted into the military and died in Vietnam earlier that year.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">Initially antagonistic, the inevitable happens as relationships between the three slowly thaw. What avoids this all descending into chiché is David Hemingson’s excellent script and Alexander Payne’s excellent direction – both of which allow the audience to slowly come to understand and empathise with the protagonists – and the performances of the leading actors.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">It also allows a commentary on racism, class, mental health, and the importance of education; in particular, that of history – both global and personal.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">Making his film debut as Angus, Dominic Sessa has already picked up several best newcomer awards and is up for a Bafta later this year as supporting actor. It’s a remarkably assured performance, full of awkwardness and vulnerability, but shot through with a self-destructive anger.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122;">Da’Vine Joy Randolph</span><span face="Aptos, sans-serif"> as Mary brings toughness and vulnerability to the role, and she and the film thankfully avoid tropes of a suffering black character. Having already picked up a Golden Globe, she’s nominated in the supporting actress category for both the Baftas and the Oscars.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And so to Paul Giamatti as the central grouch. He absolutely shines in the role of the misanthropic teacher. There are moments of great humour here – not least in terms of his pomposity – but as with the others, it’s a performance that slowly reveals the character’s vulnerabilities.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Giamatti too picked up a Golden Globe and has best actor nominations for both London and LA.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122;">The Holdover</span></i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122;"><i>s</i> is proving an awards dark horse, threatening the juggernaut that is <i>Oppenheimer</i>. Having seen it, there’s no surprise to this. Indeed, the only shock is that it took until the second half of January for this to be released in the UK, given that it is a quintessential Christmas movie, which is already being lauded as one of the very best of that species.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A real bittersweet joy. Film making on an absolutely human scale, with story and dialogue taking the lead. Do see.</span></span></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008122447979675819.post-17800072593697110212024-01-21T21:17:00.001+00:002024-01-21T21:17:14.285+00:00Blue Velvet: The dark underbelly of the American Dream<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2dyY3EvF0HE0Xp3AO7XqPRJ4a2NXRSPyTPy5g6fEuOokGqeHDiqq5jnVBu9mybVknUP4k7tskRwt1Di8xLW54WcBbflpAPiytY4-5m_3bZ2NY5GsJ2GTVK_5QFMLdbiWFvD9fqr7YE9VI8TcdKlwEhCX_Zenv8-mPxFYNYstD8-5PC0KzJw1M_Uh_yHB/s1469/Blue%20Velvet%20poster.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1469" data-original-width="1065" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2dyY3EvF0HE0Xp3AO7XqPRJ4a2NXRSPyTPy5g6fEuOokGqeHDiqq5jnVBu9mybVknUP4k7tskRwt1Di8xLW54WcBbflpAPiytY4-5m_3bZ2NY5GsJ2GTVK_5QFMLdbiWFvD9fqr7YE9VI8TcdKlwEhCX_Zenv8-mPxFYNYstD8-5PC0KzJw1M_Uh_yHB/s320/Blue%20Velvet%20poster.png" width="232" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">For the second day running, a birthday present from my niece gave me the opportunity to catch up on an iconic film that I’ve never quite got around to watching. In this case, David Lynch’s 1986<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Blue Velvet</i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">– an “adult fairytale”, according to the BFI.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Why have I not seen it before? Largely, I think, because I’d wondered if I’d find it ‘too much’, such is its reputation and also, because inevitably, I’d seen fleeting clips of Dennis Hopper inhaling something that turns his character more psychotic and dangerous than ever.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Writer and director Lynch opens the film with surreal scenes of a sugar-sweet, small-town America; an immaculate white picket fence, red roses and a blue sky – redolent of the Stars and Stripes – and a fire truck moving down a street in slo-mo, with a fireman on the back waving directly toward the camera, a dalmatian sitting alongside him. Then a middle-aged man watering his lawn, while his wife inside the house watches a crime mystery on the TV.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So far, so good. But then the gardener has an accident with his hose (the implement seems almost to turn on him) and everything is spun on its head, as the film dives beneath the carefully manicured grass to find a churning mass of insects in the dark below.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The gardener is Tom Beaumont. Hospitalised, he’s visited by his son,</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Jeffrey<span class="apple-converted-space">, who has returned from college because of the accident. But on the way home after his visit, Jeffrey discovers a human ear in a field, which he takes to the </span>police station, to a Detective John Williams</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">, who’s also a family neighbour.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Later, after he’s called on Williams at home to see if there is any news, Sandy, the policeman’s daughter, stops him in the street to say she’s overheard that the ear somehow relates to a nightclub singer named Dorothy Vallens.</span><span style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif;"> Fascinated by the idea of a mystery, Jeffrey decides to investigate – and is drawn into the word of psychopathic gangster and drug dealer Frank Booth.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">So the film moves from surrealism into noir. But this is no conventional noir. The hero, for instance, in no hard-boiled, cynical character – à la Bogart in <i>The Big Sleep</i> – but a boyish </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">ingenu</span><span style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif;">.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Likewise, neither the ‘good girl’ (Sandy; blonde) nor the ‘femme fatale’ (Dorothy; dark haired) fit simply into those cinematic cliches. Both are more complex.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnCGqmIaVrW-6XsFQHtiCUc2W1BruthQXFEyqSYsP1TzzXxzWUZOaOJHr8kFzItCHTxXpyX3QIsLX6cHhi0qh9l_zsd4n9SCUXuIGdrv-4APOqA144qGzH9v4B1osHBucLEQnCKpDXgZW1ls0bRVY0QRkh7-UiOzHD0PWHBgpTVeutH7o62mOw0r3MF4h4/s980/BlueVelvet1200x800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="980" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnCGqmIaVrW-6XsFQHtiCUc2W1BruthQXFEyqSYsP1TzzXxzWUZOaOJHr8kFzItCHTxXpyX3QIsLX6cHhi0qh9l_zsd4n9SCUXuIGdrv-4APOqA144qGzH9v4B1osHBucLEQnCKpDXgZW1ls0bRVY0QRkh7-UiOzHD0PWHBgpTVeutH7o62mOw0r3MF4h4/s320/BlueVelvet1200x800.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And that’s before we get to Frank (left, with Dorothy), with all the suggestions that at least an element of his ultra-violence is down to self-loathing: is he straight, gay or bi?</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It’s never a bigger question than in an extraordinary scene when Frank and his thugs have dragged Jeffrey and Dorothy to the den of fellow drug dealer Ben. There, the camp, made-up ‘Suave’ Ben lip-synchs to Roy Orbison’s</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In Dreams</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">, right at Frank, as though in an act of seduction, moving him to tears of rage or something else.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Right after, before beating Jeffrey, Frank smears the young man’s lips with lipstick and savagely kisses him.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Is this about toxic masculinity and the pressures to conform to heteronormative stereotypes? It’s certainly about power relationships; Frank’s exercise of power over everyone in his orbit – except Ben, who seems to have the upper hand there – and Dorothy’s over Jeffery are both crucial, but there is also the question of who exercises the power in the relationship between Sandy and Jeffrey.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">There are so many things to take in here.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Sandy, in her blonde innocence, nods back to 1978’s <i>Grease</i> and the leading character of the same name. The naming of the ‘femme fatale’ begs the question: is Frank (who is obsessed with her) really a ‘friend of Dorothy’?</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Then there’s the contrast between the darkness and violence of the film and the two big musical themes – Bobby Vinton’s cover of 1950 song</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Blue Velvet</i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">by Bernie Wayne and Lee Morris, and Orbison’s 1963</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In Dreams</i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> – as if they hark back nostalgically to a gentler time and their use by Lynch is a subversion of that ‘gentler time’ – a time that was suggested by the opening shots.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was far from universally acclaimed when it came out, but Lynch’s film has more than stood the test of time and well deserves its status as a classic.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The central cast is excellent. <span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Isabella Rossellini</span> as Dorothy is strong and vulnerable at the same time. Kyle MacLachla</span><span style="font-family: Aptos, sans-serif;">n is suitably innocent as Jeffrey, finding himself out of his depth when drawn toward a stranger world than he had previously imagined possible. Laura Dern makes Sandy both plausibly girlish, yet also with a tough core.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But it’s Hopper who dominates the film as Frank, in a performance that is absolutely riveting; even when you want to flinch and look away, you cannot.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhowkMsqASXyu68380VB0eqS8NQuDwjKwZVUxROuPr2WVHf-pBPpFM7j9awN64rF1YP3ZmgFvRTqHxdy-1j1MLEW4-qjPwOfNeScOYszWjmW43R_YChhfG642mSHNjxGKS42OYHEyQnBrWDiIpTH9Oo7WmnmydBjdht6de_uoAACDmlWgoS_08McqsCIdDl/s800/stockwell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="800" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhowkMsqASXyu68380VB0eqS8NQuDwjKwZVUxROuPr2WVHf-pBPpFM7j9awN64rF1YP3ZmgFvRTqHxdy-1j1MLEW4-qjPwOfNeScOYszWjmW43R_YChhfG642mSHNjxGKS42OYHEyQnBrWDiIpTH9Oo7WmnmydBjdht6de_uoAACDmlWgoS_08McqsCIdDl/s320/stockwell.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The supporting cast are largely sketches – with one exception. Dean Stockwell’s Ben (left) – albeit a one-scene turn – is simply exceptional.</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lynch wraps it up with a ‘happily ever after’ finale, which returns us to the surreal openings, but with the addition of an animatronic robin, which reiterates the message that all this is really just artifice and wishful thinking. Indeed, the film it culminates with a repeat of those very first sequences.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But by now, we are well aware of the dark underbelly of such an American Dream. Brilliant.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34);">• <i><a href="http://thevoluptuousmanifesto.blogspot.com/2024/01/femme-is-serious-take-on-effects-of.html" target="_blank">Femme</a></i> is a 2023 film takes a deeper dive into the theme of sexuality-driven self loathing. </span></span></p>Amanda Kendalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13753421608510794753noreply@blogger.com0