March 28, 2016

The thing lasts

F for Fake (Orson Welles, 1973). There have always been phonies, Welles suggests, what’s new are the experts who claim to know how to separate the true from the false, or the real from the fake. On one level, you can read F for Fake as Welles’ answer to the “expert” (Pauline Kael) who challenged his authorship of Citizen Kane and you can see that Welles shares infamous art forger Elmyr de Hory’s delight in proving the experts wrong, just as he and Oja Kodar enjoy fooling us with their story about Pablo Picasso, but the quiet centre of the film is the Chartres section, in which the cathedral, silhouetted like Xanadu in Citizen Kane, is a monument that transcends all the individuals who worked on it, in Welles’ remarkable monologue. In the end, he asks, why does the name of the artist matter? The thing lasts, names disappear. But is this humility, really, or is it actually the opposite? A story about anonymity comes with Welles’ visual signature, familiar from the opening of Citizen Kane, and the Welles voice-over now has an intimate seriousness that the rest of the jubilant, chaotic and enjoyably contradictory film otherwise overlooks in its rush to entertain and impress. Everything is a performance, or a trick, you suspect – seriousness as well as levity. 

March 27, 2016

The trees

The Falling (Carol Morley, 2015). A quiet, dreamy film about teen girl hysteria, set as the British 1960s were about to turn into the 1970s – and Carol Morley evokes the creepy, pagan, autumnal, erotic, supernatural feeling of the era, complete with anti-realist Don’t Look Now-style edits, beautiful cinematography (trees, rain, legs, faces) by Agnes Godard and a creaking folk soundtrack provided by Tracey Thorn. There are also tips of imaginary hats to The Devils, Picnic at Hanging Rock, The Virgin Suicides and Heavenly Creatures and perhaps even early 70s Hammer horrors, but it’s not just pastiche or revivalism – there is something deeper and fresher happening here. 

March 26, 2016

Seen and believed

Risen (Kevin Reynolds, 2015). Risen is neither a daringly revisionist Jesus movie in the mode of Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ nor a bloody slice of ideological violence in the tradition of Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, to which it was planned as an unofficial sequel. Former Costner sidekick Kevin Reynolds directs – at Reynolds’ 1990s commercial peak, you might have said that he had a knack for choreographing epic exercises in crowd-pleasing mythology (Rapa Nui, Waterworld, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves), but it’s hard to tell if this relatively low-budget and modestly staged Biblical film is a personal statement for him or just another job. Either way, the mood is traditional, respectful and slightly tepid, with Joseph Fiennes’ taciturn and death-haunted Roman centurion moved or shaken, forever changed, by his sightings of the resurrected Christ, played by the Maori Jesus (Cliff Curtis) as a figure of love, peace and generosity rather than the leader of the apocalyptic rebellion that the prissy Pilate (Peter Firth) fears. At best, the film is a footnote that cleaves closely to the story as it has come down to us, despite the invention of a Roman witness as an audience intermediary rather than the early Christian movement telling its own story – can we call this Romansplaining? 

March 20, 2016

Story ark

Northfork (Michael Polish, 2003). This doesn’t work, but it should. Angels of some sort descend on mostly empty plains in wintry Montana, into a sick boy’s imagination, while men dressed like FBI agents tell the few locals left that a flood is coming – not Biblical, although that is evoked a few times, but a power company’s dam-building. The slow, hushed style is an attempt at Lynchian Americana, but without surprise or depth or the genuine threat of something uncanny that comes as naturally as breathing to Lynch. The non-committal acting – James Woods, Nick Nolte, Daryl Hannah – doesn’t help. Just to exaggerate the Lynch B team feeling of it all, Kyle MacLachlan even has a cameo. The wide, empty, raw spaces do look kind of beautiful, though. Desolate, gloomy pioneer sublime, in shades of grey. 

March 19, 2016

Watching Belle de Jour again

Belle de Jour (Luis Bunuel, 1967). Twenty years later. I had forgotten how pitiless this is. 

March 17, 2016

Five films

I contributed to Simon Sweetman’s “Five films that stay with me” series here. Five favourites. Saddest science-fiction, most serious theological horror, most paranoid urban drama, most tender dead-girl tragedy, best prison break in cinema. 

March 16, 2016

Civil war cinema

Dream double bill: Skammen (Ingmar Bergman, 1968); Sleeping Dogs (Roger Donaldson, 1977). But they would probably be played the other way around, moving from civilisation’s colour to barbarism’s black and white, from sights of working cities to bombed or burnt-out ruins. Plane scenes, army scenes, torture scenes, betrayal scenes, uprisings and dull authority, a near future so close it is more or less the present, but with any belief in the value of change and conflict completely absent by the time Skammen is running. 

March 13, 2016

Hope and violence

Dheepan (Jacques Audiard, 2015). Sadly, most of us in the west don’t know a lot about the specifics of the Tamil Tigers and the Sri Lankan civil war – probably even less than we knew about the Bougainville conflict that produced Mister Pip – which might actually help Jacques Audiard’s powerful Dheepan, which debuted at Cannes last May and controversially won the Palme d’Or over Carol, The Assassin and Son of Saul, find wider application as an unexpectedly topical French refugee thriller. An ex-Tamil guerrilla fighter, a woman and a girl form a makeshift family in a Sri Lankan refugee camp and, using found identities, make their way to a housing estate in France, which is not exactly paradise (maybe the UK will be). It’s a humane and detailed account of the struggles of relocation and resettlement with wonderful performances by the Sri Lankan trio of Antonythasan Jesuthan, Kalieaswari Srinivasan and Claudine Vinasithamby, and French actor Vincent Rottiers as the tragic gang leader Brahim, and while I know that some disagree with the sudden, nearly overwhelming eruption of violence that is hinted at throughout, the danger and proximity of violence – which is far from celebratory or glamourised – was also an important part of Audiard’s cinematic language in his best films, A Prophet and The Beat That My Heart Skipped, both of which feel connected to this one in their blends of dark pessimism and romantic hope and a liberal concern with social conditions. 

March 3, 2016


THX 1138 (George Lucas, 1971). Found locations, futurist pessimism, remarkable ingenuity and visual sense, and a wise Robert Duvall as the last human. No concessions are made to wider context or understanding. These people had already seen what for everyone else is still unknown. I felt like I was recording the future.” Svetlana Alexievich, Voices from Chernobyl