SGS On Film

At worst, Suspiria, the late seventies horror movie could be accused of assaulting its audience, from a visceral point of view, with its use of imagery and music. However, this reading merely feels like a crossed arm, eye-rolling reaction to a film that stabs convention in the heart and then proceeds to throw it out of the window for an utterly unsafe and nasty landing.

Rewatching the picture proved to be a fascinating experience. One could almost spend a lifetime thinking about its many seemingly disparate elements. For example, the famous Goblin score this time sounded like a nightmare inducing and powerfully ominous, Witch ceremony. The purpose of which is to gain strength, hence it’s overwhelming, inaudible nature when playing over certain scenes.

In fact, if one were to watch it through the prism of examining Witches, a creature that has tormented generations of movie-goers, then this one form of engagement with the picture would be meaningful. The supernatural beings in the film are less Margaret Hamilton and Anjelica Huston. Instead, they are more an interesting concoction of Hansel and Gretel and the work of primordial evil, mainly speaking to the fear of the monster one cannot see.

Near the end of the second act, a character declares “A coven without its leader is like a headless Cobra, harmless!” The line encapsulates the success of the picture in keeping its audience in the dark in regards to the causes of the depicted grisly acts While additionally providing a short brief explanation that is terrifying in implication for the protagonist and narrative.

The biggest triumph of the picture is that it feels like a pure horror film, and this comes from its dreamlike atmosphere. The harsh use of red that bathes the film, like a floodlight at a lighthouse, particularly permeates the picture, even in the most mundane scenes, it appears like blood.

The camera work also contributes to the general ambience of the film. Dario Argento employs points of view shots from wine glasses, silent long takes and crane shots to great effect in unnerving the audience. Finally, the production design deserves particular credit as it gives the film this paradoxical quality of being beautiful in its depiction of death, which also feels ritualistic. It’s the final piece of the puzzle coupled with the cinematography, music and acting that make Suspiria, a truly surreal treat.

Before Sunset represents the absolute pinnacle of the perniciously named romantic comedy genre. In fact, to almost categorise it as one seems like a disservice to both the film and the aforementioned genre. As a film, it has more in common with Woody Allen pictures; ideas bursting at the forefront. However, this is undervaluing it too. On the surface, one can liken it to Jazz in the sense that it has some counter-intuitive elements that are all fused together, but the result is seamless, smooth and utterly delightful.

The story picks up nine years after the events of the first picture, Before Sunrise. The film in its first quarter does elegant work of catching up the audience who may not have familiarity with Celine and Jessie’s first meeting. Whether it is the quick flashback shots of remembrance or directly addressing plot points and ambiguities of the prior film, it is neatly done.

The film again takes place in a stunningly beautiful European city, which this time is Paris due to Jessie being there for the last leg of his book tour. The capital is used sparingly, with minimal locations and scenery changes. However, the conceit of the film that is real time in the late afternoon results in some stunning, radiant shots, which particularly impress when Jessie and Celine are travelling on a boat overseeing the city.

This is a stark contrast to Venice in the first picture, which was infinitely unfolding like a rich tapestry of discovery, as young Celine and Jessie walked its streets through the course of one long embracing night.

Paris is also the city where Celine lives and from a screenwriting perspective, this seems adept as one could argue that she has the most development. We get to observe how life has changed her, romantically and politically, as well as hear interesting stories of her time in New York.

From an acting perspective, Julie Delpy rises to the challenges of her character tremendously well, and her best work comes towards the end of the picture, two scenes particularly cast an impression. The first is the car ride back to her house. Through the course of an intense emotional six-minute monologue, Delpy finely unravels her strong, impassioned persona. As she reveals how that one night with Jessie has affected her life in many painful ways, showing a deep seeded fear, frustration and vulnerability.

The second scene is near the end when Jessie puts on some music, and Celine starts recounting her experience at a Nina Simone concert. If the aforementioned scene was a powerful emotional outburst, then this scene is a relaxing, smile-inducing, seductive scene that reveals Delpy’s excellent comic talent and natural rhythm. It is truly the best scene in the film.

However, this does not take away from Ethan Hawke’s performance as Jessie. The screenplay gives him some beautiful monologues, mainly at the beginning of the film when he is talking to the press about his book. There is one where he is talking about an idea he has for a novel that lasts the amount of time of a pop song. Hawke delivers this with a great casual confidence while balancing this facade of calmness in the face of seeing Celine again.

The screenplay gives Jessie less in terms of depth, and his life experiences are put on the backburner. As a result, Hawke’s performance can be seen as reactionary through most of the film. However, Hawke brings his usual charm and likeability, that it offsets this potentially huge problem, in addition to delivering in the emotional scenes.

Finally, the film romantically deals with the reunion, which it does extremely well, evoking the real bittersweet nature of it, and almost how contradictory it can be. In one regard, Jessie and Celine are happy to see and be in one another’s company. However, on the other hand, their meeting brings up feelings of regret. In addition to a painful reminder of time and how they can’t escape it, nor the fate of what they desire or feel for one another, despite the lives that they presently lead.

Like many great cinematic works, Before Sunset transcends mere entertainment by directly speaking to the human condition. In particular, regret, the immediate choice and the lovely ways life can turn, even in the face of the impossibility of forces such as time and ageing.

There is something quite timely about Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu latest picture Birdman in its depiction of Riggan Thomas attempting to find his artistic soul. In some ways, it feels like the bratty, louder younger sibling of Inside Llewyn Davis, which was a sobering, period effort on the same subject.

Birdman seems like it has come out from the 1950s, been given the William Castle treatment and inspired by Darren Aronofsky and his two films that examined the mindset and value of two forms of entertainment. The former being wrestling in the 2008 film, The Wrestler and the latter ballet in the 2010 picture, Black Swan.

The most discerning viewer could accuse the picture of being entrenched in such eye-rolling gonzo filmmaking that it merely serves as a distraction to cover up a lack of prevailing theme or anything meaningful to say. However, this reading would only be half right as Birdman does feel like it has something to say despite the way in which it presents itself.

Aside from the aforementioned thread of searching for the artistic soul. Birdman also paints a bleak, nasty and claustrophobic portrait of the theatre, acting, the pursuit of truth and criticism. Some of the best moments of the film are the raw rehearsal scenes that are thankfully entirely free of artifice, and instead to speak to the themes in a purposeful and subtle way.

Even if the film is not entirely successful, there is no doubt that Michael Keaton delivers a career-defining, tour de force performance that holds the film together. Perhaps the greatest irony of the meta-textual element of the film is that despite Mr Keaton being primarily known for playing the superhero Batman, and the film commenting on this in its way.

Mr Keaton’s performances in those two films were not overt and overshadowing, but instead quiet and fierce, particularly in how Tim Burton shot the Caped Crusader with a particular focus on the eyes, inducing intense purpose. But at the same time, there was an underlying spark of madness, particularly in the first picture that was just waiting to be unleashed.

Michael Keaton combines these two elements into a performance that very well carries the central theme on its sleeve. Whether it is some of the quiet, introspective moments where Thomas is front of a mirror or the raw and surreal scenes. Keaton balances these varying sides with ease and showcases why he has always been an appealing and talented actor. One wishes the film played more to his rhythm of slowing descending into utter depths of dire artistic salvation and life affirmation.

Finally, the score by Mexican Jazz drummer Antonio Sanchez was excellent in giving the film a distinctive identity. In its use throughout the film, the score was like a surreal homage to Taxi Driver. The 1976 picture had a great moment of realism when Scorcese was shooting on a busy street and employed a real group of street musicians in a moment where real music harmonised well with its purpose in the film. There are similar moments here.

It represents one of the outstanding aspects of Birdman, which overall is weaker in its portrayal of a man trying to find his artistic soul. Especially compared to the previously mentioned films, which were more interesting, engaging and dramatically fulfilling.

Despite the recently published figures that showed 2014 was one of the lowest attended years for people going to the movies, the year did not disappoint in terms of showcasing the best of the medium. One aspect, where this was clear, was in the realm of acting. The following four performers all share the common characteristics of playing characters who push boundaries in order to achieve simple, but impossible goals even in the face of overwhelming and deterministic forces such as time and mortality.

Scarlett Johansson’s performance in Under the Skin is an excellent recent paradigm of an actor and director collaboration. Johnathan Glazer uses Johansson as a sketch to make potent commentary on image and objectification while additionally changing our perception of the actress. Johansson adds to this vision by creating a fascinating portrait of a foreign being who learns what it is like to be human, with all the pitfalls that come with that. Her performance accentuates a film that is dazzling in showcasing the unexpected, unconventional and power of independent cinema.

The Grand Budapest Hotel’s central character Monsieur Gustave H is perhaps the most delicate character on the list because he could have easily become a one-note exercise in comic indulgence. However, Ralph Fiennes finds the humanity and innate melancholia while balancing this odd and quirky side that all combine to create a figure who encapsulates director Wes Anderson’s nostalgia for a Europe and time long gone.

Inside Llewyn Davis felt like an authentic piece from an era when the medium was pure, and not marred by commercialism. At the same time, it was also contemporary in its depiction of Llewyn Davis, a man struggling to find a break after the death of his musical partner. Part of his hardships are caused by his unlikeable, prickly demeanour. However, this is redeemed when we see Llewyn Davis perform. Oscar Isaacs during these moments, authentically shows us a rare exhibition of what art can do. It can redeem us, show us at our most vulnerable and remind us to fight even when it seems bleak, impossible and ultimately foolhardy.

Finally, Patrica Arquette in Boyhood was an exceptional reminder of just how powerful cinema can be in showing the mundane and seemingly everyday trials and tribulations of life. While the film on the surface is about a boy growing up between the ages of 7-18. The subtext that makes the central narrative fascinating is seeing the parents develop too and the effect of their parenting on how Mason will turn out.

Patricia Arquette’s Oliva is arguably the most interesting character because she is strong, tenacious and not held down because she is a single parent. She has goals, dreams and a vision of how her life should be, and that is admirable. Arquette’s finest scene is her last one which is a powerful reminder of not only the central theme of the film, but also how good things in life never truly last and how short they can feel.

It is still hard to believe that Star Wars is coming back to the big screen. With the small nuggets of information that are creeping up on fans, week after week, this is seeming more and more like an exciting inevitability. The two big pieces of news that have emerged recently are the title and teaser trailer.

Briefly commenting on the title, it is very bold and unique. The first thing that stands out about it is its metatextual quality. It is announcing to the audience that Star Wars is coming back in a major way and is aware of its lofty ambitions. Additionally, the title still retains some of the cheesiness present in the other titles, which were fashioned after the Saturday-matinee serials that George Lucas grew up with and was one of his chief inspirations.

As for the eagerly anticipated teaser trailer, I loved how it provided an excellent microcosm of what this post Return of the Jedi world is going to look like. The vehicles are a little beat up; the environment looks harsh, and the galaxy looks like it is going to be shaken. Filmmaking wise, the balance of the stylistic differences between Original Trilogy and Prequel Trilogy were evident. Of the former, the beat up used future is visible, showcased with shots such as the first reveal of John Boyega’s character. As well as the junk yard, which shows us a glimpse of a Droid.

As for the latter some of the images had the clean, pristine quality, that many of the shots from the Prequels had. In fact, the broadsword lightsaber shot felt like a great homage to the Darth Maul doubled sided lightsaber reveal in Phantom Menace. Additionally, some of the speed and ferocity seems like it could come from the Episode I-III era. So far, it is clear that JJ Abrams has reverence for the saga as a whole, which is refreshing to see.

Additionally, as an aside the rolling Droid, was a great fine touch. It was a good reminder that the film is going to have the same kind of fascination of the odd and absurd alien creatures and robots as the originals did. The trailer was also being hyped for the apparent inclusion of new and original John Williams music. From the sound of it, this seems right, and the new material is hair-raising, experimental and intriguing in its use.

The tone of the teaser feels foreboding, urgent while additionally feeling like a literal and loving adoption of the infamous Lucas’s mantra- “Faster, more intense! This aspect coupled with a lack of the big three characters, and you have a trailer that is carving out a bright future for Star Wars. Like the best moments of the epic space saga, it sparks the imagination with images, which are exciting, mythical and finally, a grand reminder of the power of cinema.

Mike Nichols was a visionary director, his body of work was unparalleled in showcasing pure authenticity in what could be seen as the ordinary moments of life. He proved that the cinema can be intimate and small.

It was this aspect that was quite immediately clear when watching his films, which sadly at this moment stand at just two. In the 1967 classic, The Graduate, in one shot, Mr. Nichols illustrated the pitfalls and tragedy of youth, showcased in the lingering last moment of the picture.

Despite feeling elated at what we have just witnessed, the film leaves us with the subtle point that perhaps the rash action was a mistake. We see doubt slowly creep in, thus showing how many youth-oriented actions can end in misery. It is a point that is further emphasised when one reflects on Mrs Robinson and the thematic point of her character in relation to the narrative.

The Graduate was a film that Roger Ebert thought had lost its shine, citing that it was a film of its time. I respectively disagree with Mr Ebert as the film still feels important and seminal in its portrayal of growing up in one’s twenties.

Closer (2004) is another film that stood out at me and for reasons utterly opposed to The Graduate. The picture illustrates the sting of infidelity in such a resonate and cathartic way. The best demonstration of this was the scene when Larry (Clive Owen) finds out that his respective other, Anna (Julia Roberts) has been cheating on him. Aside from the writing and the location, Mr Nichol’s direction is key in synthesising dialogue, acting and shots to show how even the littlest details can affect an already painful revelation.

Whether you have seen one moment from his films or his entire filmography. There is no doubt of the impression that Mike Nichols has left on American cinema and the medium of film as a whole; he will be sorely missed.

RIP Mike Nichols

Vertigo is the closest film in the history of the medium to achieve a dream like quality. While one can point to David Lynch or many other surrealists for essentially doing the same thing, one could argue that Vertigo perfectly replicates what it feels like to experience a dream.

It was most apparent on my second viewing of the picture. It was on television and the famous silent portion of the film where Scottie (James Stewart) is keeping a close eye on Madeline (Kim Novak) was occurring. During this moment, not only was the visual storytelling impeccable but also was Hitchcock’s ability to craft great images with no dialogue and minimal score.

Furthermore, it dawned on me during this moment that I had forgotten the plot, the sequencing, and the general orientation of the scene in regards to how it fit in with the rest of the film. I assure you, fair reader that this was not the consequence of being forgettable. But more out of the effect of the film being purposefully designed like a dream. You do not remember, how you got there, what point of time or place, you’re just thrust into a dream, and this was my reaction to that lengthy scene.

With this aspect in mind, the lenses can now be sharpened and focused upon the third act of the film, which warrants much discussion and examination. Narratively, Scotty had witnessed the death of Madeline and is recovering in a halfway house, emotionally crippled; as a result. Filmmaking wise, Mr. Hitchcock has just committed one of the most trippy scenes of his career to screen. We witness Scotty mentally breaking down due to his fear of Vertigo and Madeline falling from the top of the church.

The third act plays out as gut-wrenching tragedy. Scotty is doomed almost in a fatalistic way to repeat the mistakes of the past, and his former traumas are worsened with his new obsession of wanting back Madeline. In itself, this sets up an elegant twist. Scotty, loved an illusion, a conception of Madeline that was based on superficial details. Additionally, the Madeline that Scotty was watching earlier in the film was played by an actress who looked like the real Madeline, and whose death was faked. While, we can comment on what loving Madeline meant for Scotty earlier in the film.

What makes the third act so interesting is that aside from its plot twist and Scotty getting over one trauma to be doomed to gain another, is the presentation of the act. One could make the logical assumption that the third act represents Scotty’s attempt to get over his trauma. However, he is doing so while still being in a halfway house and being a silent, broken person that we saw earlier.

So what evidence is there for this reading? Well, firstly, Mr. Hitchcock never shows us Scotty leaving the establishment officially, he just makes a quick cut to him seeing Madeline’s green car and thinking he sees her driving it. Secondly, a pre-established character is completely dropped and does not appear in the third act. It is an odd choice as she was established as being an active almost maternal figure for Scotty, caring for him a great deal.

Thirdly, the scene closely follows the one where we see our protagonist snap psychologically, so it gives this reading some validity. Finally, the explanation of the twist, aside from working on a thematic level, holds little logical ground, it sounds preposterous and is given minimal description. Could it be possible that Scotty is working out his issues and out of some self-loathing or other factor, he conceived of this betrayal?

Whatever, you may feel about the issue in question or the film at large. There is no doubt that Vertigo is a film worthy of its reputation, and one hopes that there are many more enigmas hidden deep beneath its dreamy depths.

Along with Citizen Kane, no film has been more deserving of a brief examination then Interstellar. It is not only because it is a spectacular film that demands repeated viewings, but also because one can imagine that it will stimulate the imagination and discourse for years to come.

The area that cast the most substantial impression on first viewing was Christopher Nolan’s meditation on time. In prior pictures, Mr. Nolan has used time as a methodology in the way he constructed narratives. Memento being the best example of this where two narratives threads were established, one representing the past and the other, the future, until they both converged at the end of the film. Time is not just an exclusive concept that Mr. Nolan deals with in his pictures.

Earlier this year, Richard Linklater presented a fleeting portrait of the concept in Boyhood, which depicted a child growing up from age 7-18. Mr. Nolan responds to this ephemeral picture in an emotional and harrowing scene when protagonist Cooper comes back from a mission and realises it has been twenty three years since he has been gone. As a result, he has video messages backlogged from two decades and we witness his reaction to his children growing up before his eyes.

The sequence is simultaneously interesting for its moving content but also for its social commentary of showcasing how we do see people grow via social media and through a non-contact basis. But also like last year’s Gravity it shows the hardships of space, that along with an intriguing plot point at the beginning of the film, further crushes the idealistic 1960s American image of space.

Time in Interstellar aside from the aforementioned context is also critical to the plot. Many of the characters speak of how to evade it, due to the difference of it on Earth, versus where they are currently.  Mr. Nolan has stated in interviews that if there were an enemy in Interstellar, it would be time. The statement has a lot of weight and is true in many regards.

Hans Zimmer’s score uses the counter-intuitive primary instrument of an organ. Its use against images of space seems strange at first.  But if it is thought of as the musical identity of time then, its value is elevated, due to making the concept sound ominous, majestic and eternal.

In the third act, Time is presented at its most potent in an ambitious sequence where Cooper is perceiving the concept in a physical dimension. Within this space, he can see his memories in many shifting windows, in an environment that looks like an abstract, fading silvery library. The scene as a whole, while harkening to 2001, also serves as Mr. Nolan’s best use of the concept. It is showcased in the form of a story point that loops around itself and the effect is emotional and awe inspiring.

Bill Murray in my adult years is an actor who has impressed me a great deal. He has essentially taken the baton from Robin Williams, an actor who had greatly made my childhood that much more happy-filled and meaningful.

He was a key reason that I had decided to watch the American War Comedy picture from 1981-Stripes. It was a film that had made me much more interested to seek out his early films, which as of this moment, are at an abysmal two.

The picture is very interesting, seeming as though it is directly spoofing, Full Metal Jacket. Though, this can only be observed in hindsight as the Stanley Kubrick Vietnam picture came out in 1987. But its existence within the era of the Cold War still makes it a provocative picture. It feels more like an amusing post-Vietnam film, seemingly showing the pitfalls with how random the draft was, and how young people fought in a crazy war.

The time of which it exists, before some of the major 80s Vietnam pictures gives it a special resonance because it shows that the war was still prevalent in the American consciousness. At best, it takes shots at the army. Not only in its recruitment of the regular but disturbed schmoes but also in its leaders. One quite apparent example of this is in the character of Captain Stillman, who is played with a great blend of slimy, buffoonish smugness by John Larroquette.

The best moments of the picture are some of the montages that depict the regiment getting trained. They are amusing and uplifting in equal measures, whilst still reminding the viewer of the hard worn, dedicated life which soldiers have.

Bill Murray is fantastic as a man with a joke for every occasion. However, it is his early scenes that cast an impression, showcasing true vulnerability and fragility that manifests itself in impulsive actions and amusing words. The performance feels like a fascinating pre-cursor to some of his future work in which played truly lost and broken people. I was particularly thinking of the characters in Rushmore and Broken Flowers, when watching those beginning scenes.

Finally, the composer Elmer Bernstein punctuates the film with an incredible score. It gives it a great identity of being a picture that relaxes and sees the virtues of the army in all its comical and patriotic glory.