SGS On Film

Tangerine is a vibrant picture that in its every frame imbues creativity, and sheer humanism. Additionally, it is a striking example of new form giving rise to the one of the appeals of cinema, which is experiencing a unique time and place, which is fundamentally different from our own. The film was shot with the use of many IPhone 5s devices. Despite this fact, Tinsel Town comes to radiant and stunning life with breathtaking tracking shots, which makes one feel like that they are bystanders watching the characters. Finally, the film has a natural state of being about its trans-gendered individuals, which adds to the authenticity of the picture. It does not feel the need to rationalise nor moralise their gender preferences.

In my mind, Inglorious Bastards has always been Quentin Tarantino’s most polarising film. At best one can say it is a fascinating, controversial and wholly original portrait of a crucial period during the Second World War. At worst one can characterise it as an excessive, misleading, and ultimately pointless, adolescent effort. However, on this recent viewing of the picture, the film opened itself up to me and presented me with a much more interesting reading of its thematic explorations.

Primarily, the film is about a propaganda war with cinema being used as a tool to give countries and people a mythical grandeur. For example, the titular Bastards are seen by Hitler as spectral figures who have evaded capture. Additionally, he sees one of the soldiers in the infamous group who is called “The Bear Jew” as an actual Golem from Jewish folklore. The rumours and soldiers testimonies of their actions deeply disturb him and his cult of personality that he later decides that his attendance at a lavish German Film Night at a cinema in Paris is crucial.

The picture that is being shown at said event is entitled “Nation’s Pride.” It chronicles the three days survival of a lone German sniper called Fredrick Zoller and his subsequent killing of 250 enemy soldiers. One gets the distinct impression that the film represents a morale boost for the German High Command. More crucially, the picture is used as a tool to mythologise and immortalise a recent victory, which is characteristic of the primary goals of the Third Reich. Daniel Bruhl, who plays Zoller, is the film’s most fascinating performance as Bruhl imbues the character with contrary traits of arrogance and bashfulness, which results in the most interesting aspect of the film. In fact, one of the picture’s smallest moments casts the most considerable impression.

In the aftermath of the death of Zoller at the hands of Shosanna Dreyfus (Melanie Laurent), the young Jewish woman and projectionist of “Nation’s Pride.” observes the young decorated war hero in the film. She sees his vulnerability and abject fear of the situation and then she looks back at his dead body and casts this sad expression. For the first time, she can look beyond the mythic façade as well as the Nazi uniform and be reminded that she killed a human being.

The moment is also indicative of a recurring theme in the film, in which the actual truth shatters perceived truth. This theme is magnificently surmised by Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz) at the beginning of the film when he says, “I love rumours! Facts can be so misleading, where rumours, true or false, are often revealing.” Tarantino employs this on a personal level when characters confront one another on their reputations. For example, near the end of the picture, Landa defensively recoils at his title of “The Jew Hunter.” and remarks upon the nature of one of the captured Bastards’ nicknames, “The Little Man.”

Lt Aldo Raine smugly says at the end of the picture, “I think this might be my masterpiece.” Inglorious Basterds is not Quentin Tarantino’s masterpiece but it is his most sophisticated film in expounding upon the power and virtue of the cinematic medium.

Quentin Tarantino’s 8th film, The Hateful Eight is a fascinating revisitation of his central thematic fixation, which fundamentally grows into a budding new form of expression for the black-humoured and highly cineliterate auteurist.

Tarantino’s exploration and presentation of the self-appointed persona are very much ingrained in the fabric of the film. Many of the title characters are taking on personas when staying at “Minnie’s Haberdashery.” In fact, one could infer that each of their roles is Tarantino’s illustrations of different approaches to performance. Oswaldo Mobray (Tim Roth) feels like an exercise in over the top scenery chewing. He perhaps tries too hard in attempting to convince people of the illusion. Meanwhile, Joe Gage (Micheal Madsen) feels like a purposeful side character, as he keeps to himself and does not comment on the boiling political tension in the cabin. Finally, Bob (Demián Bichir) feels like someone who is attempting to play a part, but you can see through the act and persona straight away as he is extremely one-note and reactionary.

This idea of the self-constructed persona takes on richer thematic resonance with a twist near the end of the film. It’s established that the audience has been witnessing a constructed representation of “Minnie’s Haberdashery” as the day before the current events of the film- Jody Domergue (Channing Tatum) and his gang kill everybody in the secluded place and lie in waiting to rescue Dasiy Domergue. (Jennifer Jason Leigh) In this stretch of ten-fifteen minutes, the audience witnesses the expensively bountied bandits attempt to construct a conniving scene. Jody even makes a case for letting General Sanford “Sandy” Smithers live due to how it will make the scene feel more authentic as opposed pity for the old man’s life. These moments represent an evolution for Tarantino.

While his pictures have always been novelistic in structure, which is most evident by the chapter headings and the use of time feeling like paragraphs. In The Hateful Eight, Tarantino has made a film that is inherently stagey, which fundamentally feels of a piece with the themes and structure of his films. For example, the previously mentioned scene seems like Tarantino creating a new theme of the self-constructed scene, which greatly synthesis with his typical narrative set up of the aftermath of a significant event, such as a robbery, massacre or death.

Despite the staginess of the film, Tarantino inherently adheres to some of the axioms of the cinematic medium. In his use of Ultra Panavision 70, Tarantino reminds the viewer that cinema can be incredibly potent and powerful because of its focus on faces and the effect they have on us. The use also punctuates his newly minted theme of the self-constructed scene as it adds detail and texture to the scene in question. It is also a firm reminder of the experiential and voyeuristic nature of cinema. Rather, then witness an abstract scenery change like one would get on stage, we observe the real-time making of a scene, which in some way makes us complicit as viewers.

1) Mad Max Fury Road

A veteran like Miller understands the power of the image and what it yields, which is on full display in this visionary post-apocalyptic film.

2) Whiplash

An exhilarating and lingering depiction of ambition.

3) Bridge of Spies

A perfectly crafted period picture that captures the Cold War in all its murky and paranoid detail.

4) It Follows

A fascinating and loving embrace of the slasher genre that conceptualises death in a frightening new way.

5) Ex Machina

The cinematic equivalent of seeing a Chess Game unfold.

6) Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens

The Force Awakens greatly articulates and expounds upon the appeal of the enduring Star Wars saga.

7) Slow West

A fundamentally tragic Western that chronicles the changing perspectives of two men’s outlook on life.

8) Inherent Vice

A superb piece of experiential cinema and admirable adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s dense and psychedelic novel.

9) Macbeth 

Nature and War are at the heart of this commendably artful retelling of William Shakespeare’s powerful tragedy.

10) Crimson Peak

A fantastic harmony between Gothic horror and the exuberant, surreal style of Italian horror cinema.

In Slow West, the West bursts with bountiful colour, heightened optimistic starry skies and entertaining, quirky strangers. At least, this is the West seen through the eyes of a young man called Jay Cavendish (Kodi Smit-McPhee) whose immediate goal is to search for his long-lost sweetheart- Rose. (Caren Pistorius)

Slow West primarily works because of this intrinsic optimistic world-view and its interplay with the traditional conception of the West. The harshness and immorality of this latter idea of the West are represented by Silas Selleck (Micheal Fassbender) He believes that there nothing else to living other than survival. And part of the film’s fascination is how his world view is shaped and changed by Jay, who he initially deems as too positive for his sake.

As Selleck, Fassbender delivers his most subtle performance to date as the changes in his character are expectedly conveyed through body language, vocal tones and demeanour. All these three elements are wonderfully encapsulated in the closing scene as Selleck sees Jay lying dead in the corner of the house in which he enters. His reaction upon seeing his fallen partner is one of utter admiration and sadness as opposed to annoyance and contempt as portrayed earlier in the film.

Finally, Slow West marks the directorial debut of John Maclean and is commendable what Maclean achieves in his first picture. From these surreal and almost Andersonian remembrance scenes to these bleak and tense action sequences that have small, poignant character moments. Maclean has fundamentally made a tragic Western, which chronicles the changing perspectives of two men’s life within it.

The Man from Uncle is a pure stylish exercise and embrace of the sixties spy picture that one has to admire Guy Ritchie’s directorial prowess in evoking this period. From ingenious uses of split screen to a rich colour palate, Ritchie has commendably captured the inherent exotic travelogue quality that characterised many of the spy pictures of that era. However, despite this substantial primary virtue, at the heart of the film resides a deep seeded problem. The picture is too smirky for its own good.

This aspect is most evident in the performances. Henry Cavil plays Napoleon Solo like an American, who has ingested the collective works of Roger Moore, which results in an amusing, brash and temperate performance. This fundamental problem that is centrally evident in Solo’s character nullifies any sincere attempts at drama, moments of sustained tension and Cold War intrigue. The tone is so perversive that it even seems that the historical conflict can be solved over cold glasses of beers as opposed to moments of profound trust with other nations.