Three Short Films to Hypnotise

  Heartbeats and skateboards.

The Indian government once unwittingly funded experimental film.

                                            

Canadians recently restored a hand-painted film.

I Went To See A Kid's Film And All I Got Was This Lousy Blog Post

I saw Martin Scorsese's film Hugo. It was a kid's film. It inspired my co-watcher, who loved it. I wanted to love it. It just didn't impact me. I couldn't suspend disbelief; for a film set in Paris, why was everyone speaking in a variety of British accents? And why is it that as long as you copy the colour scheme from Amelie you can safely pretend that your location is French? Bah.

The two good things about this film were the bookshop and its owner (who were shown all too briefly), and the variety of knits on display. They were the only things I couldn't stop looking at. Hugo's garter stitch jumper was lovely.

As was the wide garter stitch scarf below, which I think I will make one day. The humble garter stitch scarf may be the most easiest thing to knit, but it is a beautiful bit of texture to have on hand on a cold day. Especially in the colours here, even if they are poached from Amelie.

Okay, so I do also like the amount of references of early cinema this film had. It might just have been better in a documentary form rather than this film. It was all a little bit not quite right for my liking.

The Gosla-thon Part 3: The Ides Of March

I hope I wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand the title of this film before the enlightenment of a Google search. According to a number of sources reliable and less than reliable, ‘ides’ is derived from a Latin word which means ‘halfway’; thus the ides of March means roughly the 15^th of March (give or take a day or too, depending on the lunar cycle). Now besides being the birthday of such varied musicians as Eduard Strauss, Ry Cooder and Will.i.am, the Ides of March was also the date on which Caesar was assassinated. In Shakespeare’s play, Caesar is warned by a prophet to ‘beware the ides of March’.

Cultural history lesson over. The film is set in Ohio during the Democratic Party’s presidential primaries. Ryan Gosling plays Stephen, a junior campaign manager under his boss Paul (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) and nominee Mike Morris (George Clooney). He plays an idealistic young man who sees politics as a way to change people’s lives for the better. However, he soon learns how dirty the fight for political survival is.

The Ides of March is a quiet little corker of a film. Within the limit of its plot, it manages to draw out a Shakespearean tragedy that would give Macbeth déjà vu. The script is tight and the story line is deftly woven. It is good to see a Hollywood film that doesn’t try and fall back on melodrama, especially with the kind of subject matter IOM deals with. That would be an easy trap to fall into, but IOM maintains its dignity and narrative integrity absolutely.

It was sad to see how cold and hard people can become because of their experiences. It is especially saddening to see disillusionment creep in upon idealism. While idealism may ultimately be naive and innocent, it is still sad to see it wither. The scenes I found most potently illustrative of this were the interactions between Marisa Tomei’s character Ida the journalist and Stephen.

You couldn’t really go wrong with the actors they had in this film anyway. Indie heavyweights were aplenty; Marisa Tomei (underused and underrated- give the woman a lead!), Phillip Seymour Hoffman (he must be good with three names), Paul Giamatti (the dude is in everything) and Evan Rachel Wood (dated Marilyn Manson. Enough said.) all gave fantastic performances. Like anyone was surprised by that.

And then there was Ryan. The man behind the Gosla-thon. He gave a solid performance throughout, and was especially brilliant at the cold hard politician bit. I’m so glad he has range besides taking off his shirt a lot. But that range is good too. More of that next film please, Mr Gosling sir.

The Ides Of March is a delicious morsel. There are shots of pure brilliance, which is a nice surprise from fourth time director George Clooney. This is without a doubt a film to watch and think about.

The Gosla-thon Part Two: Drive

This film makes me feel very happy. That may be worrying, considering the amount of violence in it. It’s not out of sadism though. It makes me happy because I feel safe in the knowledge that someone out there can still make mind-blowingly good noir films.

I was a bit suspicious when the pink curly Footloose-esque font came up on the screen. I rolled with it though, and I think in hindsight it works. The synth-pop soundtrack of the film (despite being a little clunky in parts) and the knowledge that Bernie used to produce cheap 80s thrillers added to the mad lettering and gave the film a unique undertone without it becoming overpoweringly stilted.

That’s the thing about noir; you risk becoming bogged down in the genre and ending up with a copy of what has come before. Drive takes a classic noir location, Los Angeles, and extends the genre by locating it in a different era and by taking on different characters.

I’d finished reading James Ellroy’s Brown’s Requiem a couple of days before watching this film, so I think my head is still in the seedy underbelly of L.A. I recognise the brutality of it from Ellroy, and the problematic morality of it as well. I have heard criticisms that Drive is too superficial, possibly because The Driver doesn’t say much. I think his actions are perfectly suited to his environment though.

I think one of the best things about noir is the fore-fronting of questions of morality. Raymond Chandler’s classic character Phillip Marlowe upheld his morals throughout the corruption he saw around him, usually getting beaten up and fucked over in the process. Ellroy’s novels also are full of corruption and people questioning their personal morality in such a destructive world. The Driver doesn’t necessarily question in that way, but he is single-minded in his protection of something he loves, something which represents goodness and happiness.

Of course, how could I forget to mention the Gosling of the Gosla-thon, the man that inspired the quest. Pure delight. Sizzling. Brutal. It is incredible how well he can move between selfless, caring and strong to utterly cold-blooded and brutal. A true noir hero. He can even make a quilted silver jacket look good.

Drive is definitely a film to watch over and over and over again; and not just for Ryan Gosling. It is a fantastic example of noir in a new era.

The Ryan Gosla-thon

Today marks the first part of my intrepid adventure into the world of Ryan Gosling films. Well, I tell a lie. I am only pretending about the serious film analysis part of it. It is just a chance to gaze upon his pecs with drool gathering at the corner of my mouth. Hardly going where no one has ever gone before.

Nevertheless, the Gosla-thon will go on. I managed to catch one of the last shows of Crazy, Stupid Love today, at least three weeks behind the rest of the world. As far as films go, it was okay. It was enjoyable enough, it was slightly funny, and it had Ryan Gosling in it. You can’t really ask for more from a Hollywood RomCom. Analeigh Tipton, who plays the babysitter, is a particularly striking young woman and played a good role.

And then there was Ryan Gosling, playing a suave well-dressed womaniser. My favourite scene is the one wherein the camera pans from his arse to his shoulders in the warm yellow light from a bedside lamp as he bends over Emma Stone. I sound like a creep because I am, by the way. I paid $18 to watch a film for a 15 second shot of Ryan Gosling’s fine physique. The sad part is that it was entirely worth it.

Seriously, this Gosla-thon thing is entirely an accident. He just happens to be in two movies that have slightly overlapped release dates, both of which I wouldn’t mind seeing. A quick IMDB search revealed that I’ve seen more of his films than I first realised. I’ve also seen The Notebook (something which probably shouldn’t really be mentioned in public) and Lars and the Real Girl. Lars was a great movie. The family really warms the cockles of your heart.

A good chiselled jaw and a cool demeanour make everything all right with the world, really. The Gosla-thon is therefore not only a foray into new cinematic masterworks, nor merely an excuse to wilt over the physical and (I believe) psychological perfection that is Ryan Gosling. It is also a way of reminding us as a society of our common humanity. Can you tell I have an Arts degree?

The next part of humanitarian re-affirmation is Drive. Stay tuned. Heaven knows I will be.

Take Shelter from Take Shelter

I would gladly have Michael Shannon’s babies. I would also gladly be his long-suffering wife. I would draw the line, however, at supporting his affiliation with the film Take Shelter.

That said it is not a bad film. The majority of it is very well done; superbly acted, beautifully shot, tense and thoughtful. It is just the end that is abysmal. Not in terms of the emotional content, but in terms of ridiculous plot twists.

Clumsy plot twists ruin films for me. I know that endings can be the most difficult things about writing, but I also believe that they should be given enough time to be worked out properly. Twists at the end of films should be done with a high amount of discretion, because they are so easy to get wrong.

Mr Jeff Nichols got this one all wrong. Take Shelter progressed as a fine, tense film about personal struggles and twisted into a supernatural hybrid mandrake beast. I don’t know what possessed him; I can only surmise that it was the old Writer’s Block when it comes to endings. I saw it all the time in my Undergrad days of editing seminars, and experience it myself all the time.

Maybe this is a reason why being a Writer/Director is a potentially dangerous thing. I think there is much to be said about collaborating on works; fresh perspectives are always a good thing for writers. Too often I think that writing is seen as a solitary pastime. Seeking help is a fine thing to be able to do. It is also good sometimes to have someone there to slap you upside the head and tell you to get your head out of your own literate arse.

Mr Nichols, on the bizarre and unlikely chance that you are reading this, please next time hire someone to help you out. I am available during regular office hours, and fully prepared to spend late nights with you talking over scripts and Michael Shannon.

I wouldn’t recommend Take Shelter. However, I would always encourage people to go and see new things. Why the heck not; see it. Just don’t expect the brilliancy that the hype suggests.

The Tree of Strife

Terrence Malick’s latest film has proved to be nothing if not divisive. I had an interesting conversation with a drunk man in a Pharaoh’s costume about this very thing one night. We both very loosely agreed that parts of it were good; we just couldn’t agree on which parts.

I’m all for experimentation in film. I love it. But Malick doesn’t do anything new. Sure, a lot of it is surreal, or semi-real. But it’s all been done before. There was one shot in the whole film that made me lose my breath a little; the flock of pigeons flying in the city. It sounds dicky when I explain it like that, but it is a truly beautiful sequence. I loved the early ‘beginning of time’ sequence. But then we got to the dinosaurs. Oh the dinosaurs. I was on his side up until then. I was willing to indulge him. Next time however, it will be the naughty corner.

I have heard critiques of critiques (suitably po-mo) which say that people who don’t like it just don’t ‘get’ it, that they need more patience or a more thorough ability to wank. I don’t think that is fair. It is not about being smart enough to understand the film or the director’s intention. Just because something is surreal doesn’t mean it is beyond understanding or beyond critique.

For Malick’s benefit though, the scenes with the family were incredible. The actors who played the sons and Brad Pitt as the Dad did a fantastic job. I liked that it wasn’t linear; it was like a small insight into the life of this family that you dipped into and left. Nevertheless, you left it feeling something for them, wondering about what happened to them for the rest of their lives. It was nice that there was no happily ever after type of scenario also. That is one of the first marks of a film beyond average.

I failed to see the point of the mother also. Her role was to look pretty and ethereal and be the nurturer. It would have been nice for her to have some complexity. Honestly too, by the end of it I think I would have screamed if she lovingly caressed one more person’s face. The dream-like sequence of the last half hour I thought could have been cut completely; it just looked like an ad for an insurance company.

Dear Terrence. He did try hard I think. Good on him for that. But ultimately it isn’t particularly new, the style is not unique and the surreal sequences are very clumsy. Also, it is so immense it just seems to take up your entire day. See it if you’re unemployed, elderly, or a stay-at-home-mum-or-dad. Possibly hallucinatory drugs might help.

Things That Make Me Want To Go To New York

1. Godzilla (1998): This was the second monster movie I’d seen. The first was King Kong, the 1930s version, which was also set in New York. Needless to say giant creatures seem to like tearing that city up quite a bit. My favourite scene was where the Chrysler Building came a-tumbling down. A morbid fascination really.








2. Alfred Hitchcock’s North By Northwest: The scene in Grand Central Station especially, but also the visit to the UN building. I guess it also has a lot to do with Carey Grant, the stylish minx. You just have to love a man who sends his suit for pressing right after someone tries to kill him with a crop duster. Class.






3. Dave Chappelle’s Block Party: Dave Chappelle is an American national treasure. I’m not American, nor am I qualified to induct him officially as their national treasure, which does sort of mess up the power of my statement. However, I reiterate; the man is awesome. I saw a conversation between him and Maya Angelou on TV by accident one day, and then saw this film. It is such a fantastic film too; the concept is immense, and it may be a cliché to say, but the people are the most interesting thing in it. I love how he pulls different communities together to claim a piece of the city, even if only for a day or so. I especially love the quirky couple with their self-built ‘Broken Angel’ building. I like to think that people who are a bit offbeat are unique to big cities. That’s not to say that smaller towns don’t have them; I just think that their eccentricities would make them outcasts. I think bigger cities accommodate strangeness. They let people be. Not necessarily in a nice way, maybe in a cruel way too, but they are still allowed to be who they are.



4. How I Met Your Mother: Only really for that one episode where they try to find the perfect burger that Marshall stumbled upon one evening. I love food, and I love cities, and I love the idea of a perfect-burger-treasure-hunt. Especially if the place has a red door!

5. Home Alone 2: You can probably tell that most of this list revolves around buildings and interesting human beans. Home Alone 2: Lost in New York is full of both! Duncan’s Toy Chest (which is apparently actually in Chicago. Hmph.), Central Park, the Plaza Hotel, the pigeon lady who sees the opera for free, the scary cabby, that house under renovation which is the scene of the sticky, oozy, firey, hurty, laughy, ouchy mayhem.... Absolute classic.

6. Green Card: Oh! To have Andie Macdowell’s apartment! And a Frenchman with a hard past and a musician’s heart! Sigh.

7. Ryan Adams’ song ‘New York’. Also Gene Kelly’s song ‘On The Town’: Basically any young man, fit or scruffy, dancer or singer, pasty or tanned, army, navy, airforce or civilian who sings about New York makes me want to go there. I like to believe it combines city-lust with male-lust. The two most important forms of lust after yarn-lust.



8. Catcher in the Rye: Of Course. Obvious. Is there a person alive who didn’t like this book and didn’t want to be Holden Caulfield?

9. The Babysitter’s Club books: Because Stacey, the one from New York was described as the ‘sophisticated’ one. I wanted to be sophisticated. So I wanted to go to New York. Still applies.

10. Breakfast at Tiffany’s: Holly Golightly. Because she was a weary sophisticate. A Woman Without A Past. Rather, she could reinvent herself and live life fast and loose in stunning dresses with a cat and good wine. Not bad for a country girl.

11. Radio Days, Woody Allen: This was such a beautiful film. It was like listening to small anecdotes from your grandparents. The family is such a beautiful example of the messed up-ed-ness of families, but it also shows how at the end of the day family is always there to love you. They may box your ears, but then they’ll give you a big hug and a glass of milk. Goofy grin inducing film. I wanted to hug everyone I saw after watching it.

I Am Not Worthy

This post is to give thanks to my mother. Mothers are generically described as being beautiful human beings without whom we couldn't live. Mothers are complex beings, and I don't like to stereotype them. However, I Truly Could Not Live Without My Mother. Not just because she makes sure I can walk out of the house with matching socks and hole-less underwear. Not just because she made chocolate brownies when I came home. Also because she saved the unsavable; my yellow hat!

Stitches are picked up! And she did it to match the pattern! She is a Goddess among knitters! I am truly not worthy.

That Damned Hat is findable on Ravelry, as is my new project (started to mourn the old one, a potentially vicious cycle really) the Rylands Cabled Hat, which looks a real treat in the red. The wool I have is much darker, a very drinkable wine colour. I'm looking forward to seeing how it turns out!

On another note, a while ago I saw My Own Private Idaho for the first time. I have to say, I didn't entirely understand it but it was a madly beautiful and heart breaking ride. This is one of those films that makes me want to see America. Such fantastic scenery, I love the way that Gus Van Sant lingers on it. Also have to love how it lingers on Mr Phoenix and Mr Reeves at times. Can it somehow be possible to see America in the early 1990s? I'll bring my own Docs and flannelette, I promise. Truly, I am not worthy.

Touch of Bronzer

Orson Welles’ 1958 film Touch of Evil is fantastic. Except for one thing; Charlton Heston. It’s mostly not his fault. It’s the make-up.

I assume it is the make-up because with black and white there is that ambiguity of what the colour of things actually was. I was too busy trying to guess whether he had a really strong natural tan, or whether the man was heaped with make-up to concentrate much on his performance. He plays a Mexican detective in the film, Mike Vargas, which is why I assumed the semi-blackface make-up. It’s off putting.

So is his thick American accent, mind you. The other Mexican characters in the film seemed to be played by South American or Hispanic actors, so Heston stands out like a sore thumb. I guess in that regard casting was a star vehicle; they probably didn’t have an option to cast someone better suited to the part.

Welles is deliciously ugly as the corrupt cop Quinlan. Even though her scenes are brief, Marlene Dietrich oozes... well, I can only think of clichés, but whatever it is she oozes makes me weak at the knees. That woman was a goddess.

Welles as a director is incredibly good. I hate to sound like a wanky film nerd but Touch of Evil is why films should be made. The choreography of that opening scene is just masterful, as is the lighting, the angles at which characters are shot and the editing. This is one of the last noir films to be made, but unquestionably one of the best.

If truth be known it makes me feel quite bourgeois. That is, it makes me want to discard all the lowly second rate films and books and TV around and only watch the best. The best of the best of the best, the classics, those things that have lasted and are still loved and worshipped; the epitomes of genre and the revelations of changes in style. None of this reaching the end of something and saying, ‘It was okay, but....’ That *meh* kind of feeling you get when something turns out to be not as awesome as you first thought. No More Meh! Who’s with me!