Oscar Observations - Part 2

Continuing on the subject of Oscar, a few people expected Peter Jackson to follow up his LORD OF THE RINGS success with nominations for KING KONG. I wasn't sure, until I saw the film.

A bloated mess that squandered enough money to make ten half-decent movies, KONG was a spectacle too far. The film was Jackson's playground but the problem with playgrounds is that they tend to get out of control without teachers to rein in the kids. With nobody to restrain Jackson's urges, we were treated to a three hour showcase of Weta's digital effects and Jackson's unnecessary flourishes (the slow motion reveal of Skull Island was, to be honest, a bit silly).

My concern before the film was that the padding before the action would ruin what KONG was all about (i.e. apes fighting dinosaurs) but sadly the opposite was true. The opening was actually one of the more interesting parts of the film, in particular the striking job that was made of recreating 30s New York. The action on the island, on the other hand, just seemed to be an endless string of set pieces showering us with blow after blow of computer-generated flights of fancy. In the original movie, one feels sorry for Kong when he's killed; in the remake, they couldn't get to the Empire State fast enough as far as my ever-numbing rear end was concerned.

Unsurprisingly, KONG was nominated only in the technical categories and not for any of the "big" awards. If the film achieved anything, it was to prove once and for all just how pointless remakes can be.

Sam Mendes also had his hopes dashed when Gulf War movie JARHEAD was completely ignored. It would be easy to suggest that maybe it was too politically sensitive - for me, it's easier to suggest that the film just isn't that good. Someone mentioned to me that it was like FULL METAL JACKET but not as good - I wouldn't know, as I've never seen that film (no, seriously).

However, in its desert location, admittedly lovely cinematography and its study of the effects of war on soldiers who never even get to fight, I was thinking more of Valerio Zurlini's 1976 epic IL DESERTO DEI TARTARI. This film dealt with a group of soldiers awaiting an enemy that never arrives and also boasted gorgeous desert photography, but had the added bonus of a haunting score by Ennio Morricone and a top-notch multi-national cast including the likes of Max Von Sydow, Jean-Louis Trintignant and one of my personal favourites, Giuliano Gemma.

More Oscar observations to come!

Oscar Observations - Part 1

With the nominations now announced and having already mentioned MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA and MATCH POINT I thought I'd throw out another bunch of random observations on some of this year's Oscar hopefuls.

There were whisperings among us normal folk (backed up by nominations at other recent awards ceremonies) that this could finally be the year when David Cronenberg finally got a nod - but of course the Academy are not normal folk and are given to whims that us mere mortals may never understand.

Accordingly, the biggest recognition that THE HISTORY OF VIOLENCE has received is the token gesture of a supporting nomination for William Hurt. Rubbing salt in the wounds is that neither Ed Harris nor Maria Bello receive any nomination in the support categories despite being more deserving for their parts in the very same film. And is it even worth me pointing out the irony of Cronenberg being denied any chance at the big awards by the inclusion of a film named CRASH?

Not that I'm intending any disrespect to race-relations drama CRASH here - it's fully deserving of its nominations and was a fine directorial debut for MILLION DOLLAR BABY screenwriter Paul Haggis (being a Scot, I think he deserves a nomination on the strength of his surname alone).

It's not perfect by any means - some of the dialogue is embarassingly pretentious while the coincidences that cause the characters' lives to overlap involve a little too much suspension of disbelief but, nevertheless, it's a clever tale and packs a mighty emotional punch. One scene in particular (involving the little girl with the invisible cloak) caused everyone in the screening I attended to gasp out loud. You've got to admire any scene that has that effect. Well, unless you're watching Joel Schumacher's BATMAN AND ROBIN, in which case the chances are you're gasping in disbelief for all the wrong reasons.

Leading the pack with 8 nominations, the so-called "gay western" BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN looks a dead cert for the major awards - at the time of writing this, one online bookie is taking odds of 1/20 on Ang Lee picking up the directing gong. The subject matter has undoubtedly hindered the film's box office but to those of you avoiding the film because of you're uncomfortable with a love story between two men, stop and think about it for a second. I mean, I'm not entirely comfortable with human beings shooting each other to death but does that stop me enjoying spaghetti westerns? A large pile of DVDs on the shelf next to me would seem to suggest otherwise.

More shortly...

Memoirs of a Gusher

It's that time of year so I guess I may as well take a look at some of the films expected to be in with a shout of Oscar glory. First up, it's MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA.

Let me be totally clear about this before I go on - I do like this movie. I really liked it. Now let's continue and address the "but..." clause that you all expected to be on the end of my previous sentence.

It's been said that many of the best examples of "cult" movies are the ones that become that way accidentally, and that films that deliberately set out to be cult often end up failing miserably. The same, it would seem, could be said for Oscar contenders.

MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA is my case in point. This film tries too hard to be an Oscar-winning movie instead of just trying to be a good movie. Nobody's doubting Rob Marshall's ability to helm a film (as the gongs notched up by CHICAGO would show) but here he just tries too hard with what seems like an endless montage of clips that have been designed to be shown on Oscar night just before someone collects an award.

There's the usual emotional scenes where people burst out crying for any old reason; there are endless shots of people standing against the skyline or in the rain or underneath falling blossom; and there's plenty of up-its-own-arse dialogue (when someone asks you if you are still a geisha, a simple "yes" or "no" is expected, not some half-arsed diatribe about trees and that sort of bollocks).

Even the language seems to be a concession to Oscar glory, or at least if you're a cynic like me. Okay, so the main reason for getting an almost entirely Asian cast to speak English for no apparent reason is box office receipts... but part of me can't help thinking it's because filming it with subtitles would ruin its chances of going for the Best Film award (because as we all know, subtitled films have a category all of their own in order to avoid stealing some American's deserved award). Not that this film is likely to scoop that award anyway.

It's a shame really. The film is still worth seeing but at two and a half hours of directorial showboating on the part of Marshall, it begins to breed impatience. Eventually what is, I freely admit, a joyful, beautiful and touching final scene was, for me, tinged with the dawning realisation that I desperately needed to urinate.

Black and White Magic

"Black and white? I'm not watching a black and white movie!"

Incredibly to reasonable folks like you and me, there are still people who think like this and I'm not sure why. There seems to be some feeling that black and white means old and that old means it isn't as good as modern films. At least I think that's what it is, as I certainly haven't been able to come up with any other reason.

Of course the standard response is to point out SCHINDLER'S LIST, usually evoking the usual "oh, that's different" reply. Or if you want to go really up to date, George Clooney is currently receiving plenty of plaudits (and award nominations) for his latest directorial outing GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK despite having the cheek to film it with a lack of colour. (Incidentally, Clooney also starred in and was an executive producer on the TV remake of FAIL SAFE - again a monochrome effort.)

Aside from age and artistic reasons there's also just the fact that it's very often cheaper and, accordingly, many directors have turned in black and white films first (or at least early) in their careers which have established their talent and allowed them to go on to bigger and better things.

Take a look back at the recent past - George Romero gave us the wonderful NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD in the 60s; the 70s brought us Peter Bogdanovich's paean to the end of a cinematic era in THE LAST PICTURE SHOW; the 80s gave us LE DERNIER COMBAT from Luc Besson; and the 90s brought us a pair of bad-taste comedy cult classics in Belvaux's and Bonzel's hilarious Belgian movie C'EST ARRIVÉ PRÈS DE CHEZ VOUS (you probably know it as MAN BITES DOG) and Kevin Smith's franchise-spawning CLERKS.

If all this has suddenly made you decide you've been too harsh on our two-colour friends, get yourself down to the local independent cinema as soon as you can and you might be able to catch the latest black and white wonder, 13 [TZAMETI].

This French film concerns a young man who accidentally becomes involved in a big-money variation of Russian roulette. It takes a very simple concept and wrings so much tension out of it that by the end of the hour and a half you're probably sweating as much as the contestants.

Then again, since it's French (or rather a French-Georgian production) there might be some extra convincing required for some people.

"Subtitles? I'm not watching a subtitled movie!"

Alan on Allen

"I don't like him."

That's probably the phrase I've heard most when I mention the films of Woody Allen to any of my friends.

"Er... um... ah..."

That's the phrase I usually hear when I ask them which of his films they've seen. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not going to have a go at anyone for this because to be honest I used to be exactly the same. That is, until I came up with the revolutionary idea of watching one of his films rather than basing my opinion on a few seconds of footage I saw ten years prior.

Now I'm just talking from the point of view of his films here, but Woody's had it tough in recent years. It seems that those who are unfamiliar with his work assume that all his films are about a balding Jewish neurotic who spends all his time moaning about things, while those who have enjoyed his career start claiming that his recent output "isn't as good as his earlier, funny films" (a complaint he addressed with mixed results in the Fellini-inspired STARDUST MEMORIES).

Well here's where I come to his defence. There's an element of truth (a large element to be honest) in the stereotypical view of Allen's films, but the man has offered so much more. In films like SLEEPER and BANANAS he demonstrated his gift for slapstick comedy; ANNIE HALL and MANHATTAN are simply two of the best films ever (and you can quote me on that); his mockumentary film ZELIG was proof of his utter mastery of the mechanics of film. His films have always been intelligent, often witty and take in all of life's grand themes of love, art, philosophy and, well, the neuroses of balding Jewish men from New York.

In recent years, he managed what I'd class as a return to form with the tragedy/comedy MELINDA AND MELINDA, with Will Ferrell ably stepping into Allen's shoes in front of the camera - one in the eye for all those who still complain that he's "not as good as his earlier, funny films".

And now we have MATCH POINT, which once again demonstrates the flexibility of the man as well as giving all you doubters a chance to go and watch one of his films. It takes a bit of getting used to, seeing a Woody Allen film that has nothing to do with New York (it's his first film in London), and without the presence of an Allen-like character (or indeed any comedy at all) there are times when it seems like an endless parade of posh people being annoying.

But forget all that - in MATCH POINT, Allen proves himself more than adept at emotional drama (and, following a final-act twist, a competent helmer of thrillers too) and serves up a tense film that will have you on the edge of your seat in suspense. The film is worth seeing and fully deserves all the praise heaped on it by critics of late.

It's not quite as good as his earlier, funny films though.

"Christ kid, you're a weirdo!"

"You could start a blog," said one of my colleagues while we discussed how much of my life is spent in front of movies instead of human beings.

Well of course I could. That is, after all, what the internet was invented for - young blokes sitting in front of their computers spouting nonsense as if somehow the outside world actually cares what they think.

What better way to start off then, than a quick look at a mad Australian film by the name of BAD BOY BUBBY. This film happens to be the source of the above quote by the way - just in case you thought it was maybe the way my friends and family speak to me. Not that I'm saying it isn't.

Nicholas Hope stars as a man who has been kept locked in his house for his entire life, his mother convincing him that the air outside is unbreathable. When he finally breaks free, the world is not ready for him, nor he for the world. And so begins an epic adventure of rock'n'roll, perverse behaviour and lots of pizza.

Bubby, able to communicate only through imitating others, is a tragic but rather disturbing figure, a description that matches the film as a whole. Though much praised, it was little seen on release and you can't help but see why - it would take a marketing genius to get something like this into your local Odeon. For a start there's Bubby's rather, er, unusual relationship with his mother (use your imagination); his rather disturbing relationship with a soon-to-be-dead cat that would have animal rights campaigners choking on their tofu burgers; and a whole lot more that I won't bother going into here. Oh, except to say that seeing a man being "seen to" by a prison cellmate while a bunch of men play the bagpipes made me wonder if the director was making some kind of statement about Scotland's national instrument.

It's fun, it's interesting and it's not for the faint-hearted. And neither is it for the strongly religious types, since the whole film seems to me to be a swipe at the heavy-handed way in which religion is forced upon many.

Of course this message was wasted on me as I live in the UK. Here, there are no such problems, with people of each and every religion existing in perfect harmony with each other in a picturesque utopia of love and tolerance.

Yeah, I know. But as Elvis once sang, if I can dream...