Film-watching 2006

Since books and movies are the only entities to motivate me enough after a busy day to blog, this time around I thought about treating my readers to a cocktail of everything I have been watching since the year dawned. So read on:

1. All or Nothing: **** and 1/2 (2002)

A film I couldn’t find fault with. And a film that’ll forever be in my favourites list, All or Nothing is possibly one of the most realistic, honest and unmanipulated chronicle of three working class British families and their everyday struggles. In a mere 100 or so minutes I was so totally sucked into this world populated by these so-sincere-I-could-touch-them characters that I laugh-cried, cry-laughed, sympathised, agonised, empathised, felt disgusted and scared and sorry with them, for them. Boy, Mike Leigh (the same guy whose Vera Drake in 2004 hogged many a nomination–but failed to impress me) alongwith a super-efficient cast (especially Timothy Spall and Ruth Sheen) and technicians should be applauded for this piece of utter cinematic brilliance. Its sheen comes not from any new-age CGI or some profound psychobabble but from the faithfulness, optimism and compassion with which it recreates a the same world we dwell in. Spellbinding!

2. The Insider: *** and 1/2 (1999)

Just for Al Pacino’s tour-de-performance as a no-holds-barred-die-for-honest-journalism producer of a news programme, and some of the most engaging dialogue to be found in a Hollywood film, this male version of Erin Brockorwich deserves your time. Top this with a haunting background score, Michael Mann’s assured direction, deft editing and you have a film that just doesn’t let go of you. Boasting of a topical, real story of a tobacco research biologist who blows the whistle on the tobacco industry that’s influential enough to buy off the press, the media and sinister enough to hide the debilitating illnesses that cigarretes are so capable to cause, its only Russell Crowe’s staccato performance as the whistleblower in dilemma of thinking about his own family’s or the society’s good that evades the film from becoming truly exceptional.

3. Munich: **** (2005)

After the rather mediocre War of the Worlds, the movie-making machine philandering as Steven Spielberg came up with this unrelentingly violent drama chronicling the hit squad employed by the Israeli Govt after the Palestinian terrorists captured and killed off 11 athletes in The ‘72 Olympics in Munich as they hunt down the eleven suspects. With terrific and terrifyingly genuine reconstruction of the era, replete in a thriller format, laced with jaw-droppingly real performances and some of the grittiest action on the big screen ever–this dark and urgent epic worked for me by forcing meditation on the sheer futility of the terrorist attacks (then, now, whenever), the revenge strategy employed at that time and the hellish psychological impact it has on the assassins.

The tone, the atmosphere, the background score is grim-to-the-point-of-suicide, and it excels in disturbing, shocking even the most desensitised to screen violence with its rawness, and also simultaneously brings about the sheer magnitude it takes to kill a human and then live with the burden amazingly. Spielberg’s masterstroke is evident as he cuts out the whole harrowing footage of the athletes’ captivity and murder and scatters them throughout the movie, with every successive clip gorier than the last as Eric Bana goes into a lucid thinking frenzy (watch the climactic sequence where Bana reaches an orgasm as the final clip of the athletes being savagely killed at gunpoint plays in quick succession-a bizzarre, indulgent yet highly effective sequence) And I haven’t even said anything about the very good and plausible political commentary.

4. The Descent: *** and 1/2(2005)

After a long time (since 28 days later to be precise), a horror film that truly terrifies. Six backpacking, cave-digging female explorers venture into a labyrinth of underground caves and find themselves amidst crumbling walls and cannibalistic predators. If the thought of watching six femme fatales in flesh-hugging bodysuits isn’t motivation enough, there really are some genuine shocks, creeps, slashes and gore galore. Its also commendable how the screenplay and the script writers have made a deliberate attempt at steering clear of the cliches, have roped in a convincing thread of betrayal amidst the team and how much thought has been given to the camera-angle and light-play inside the caves to evoke a true sense of claustrophobia. The result-a bloodcurdling film that leaves you hating the caves and swearing to yourself you won’t venture anywhere near these godforsaken places atleast for an year. (call me a wimp, you can!)

5. The Blair Witch Project: * (1999)

Backpacking and expedition came under some more axe with this supposedly inspired-by-real-events farce of a horror film. Though I was close to commending the makers for going the brave way and trying to instill horror by leaving it all to the viewer’s imagination, its really the tackiness of the whole thing (the video-camera footage is eye-wateringly shaky) and the general stupidity of the lead characters (who are basically nothing but swearing and screaming motor-mouths) that makes you wish the “Blair Witch” skins them alive in front of your eyes. Sadly, even that’s not to be. All one sees is an upturned video-camera and some ambush sounds, and yes the rolling credits. Really makes you go “what the f*ck was that?”

PS: Fans of this movie-Please fit a video-camera in your attic and watch the footage every morning to be “freaked” by the insect sounds and sudden wisps of insects flapping by. If that doesn’t do the trick, put the lens cover back on and leave the camera on for the whole day. Seriously guys!

6. The Godfather-Part 2: * and 1/2 (1974)

Another proof of how absolutely lame and repetitive sequels can get. Another proof of how hype in Hollywood is inversely proportional to substance. And another proof of the stubborn “am-successful-will-repeat” mentality. Taking the reins from the masterpiece that the first Godfather so irrefutably remains, this one attempts two tracks–Vito Corleone’s childhood and Michael Corleone going legit and in the process, degenerating to become this cold-blooded, alpha male. The film’s biggest undoing is its over-indulgence (the camera never tires of capturing long, listless faces which mouth either Italian 90% of their time on screen or seemingly profound English monosyllables during the rest) and its length (at a hefty 3 and a half hours, this one dilutes and super-dilutes any impact the script might have packed). As a genre signature, there’s a lot of glorification of crime and romanticization of gangs which I am not particularly a fan of. The film elicits almost zero emotion from the viewer and there’s nothing more painful than sitting in front of your TV for a whole 4 hours with a straight, bored face. Dull, dull, dull!

7. Underworld: * and 1/2 (2003)

Now this is going to be difficult. Writing about this movie means recalling some really painful moments of film-watching, which thankfully my brain has decided to repress in some un-recoverable region. Its not as if I expected a film like Underworld to respect my grey matter, but it did one better by insulting even my other senses–that of sight and hearing.

Still managing to remember bits-and-pieces, there was no emotion/humour, the CGI was decidedly tacky and the action sequences were downright boring and shamelessly plagiarised. Like some bad 2 hour advertisement video for leather bodysuits and hair styling gels, it went on and on about some war (yawn) between vampires and werewolves running for centuries with the latter likely to be extinct. Just then enters the heroine who discovers there are more beasts than her “boss” has been saying there were. And then starts the hunt to find out exactly what are these werewolves hunting normal humans for. Not to forget another boring thread of what started the actual war between the two quasi-beastly families (more yawn) which is just Romeo Juliet replayed. So amidst all those stoopid chases (which really never excite), lame hidden “alliances” you just sit as the credits roll saying to yourself “is that it?”.

8. Ocean’s Eleven: *** (2001)

Nowhere quite as good as Ridley Scott’s Matchstick Men (2003) which managed to pack in more charm and repeat-value with much fewer stars, Ocean’s Eleven still is an enjoyable watch-it-and-forget-it affair with precious little working against it as a con thriller. Its directed, acted and shot exceedingly well and the twists and turns catches even the most avid movie watcher by surprise. The con-job at the heart of it strikes the right balance between plausibility and convenience and with no heavy-duty conflicts/ scenes/ deaths/ redemptions, its really a film you don’t mind munching away on a lazy weekend. Sure leaves you with one big smirk on your face. Good one!

9. The Pianist: *** and 1/2 (2002)

A thoroughly watchable Holocaust drama, with some really effective, well-directed scenes and Adrien Brody’s earnest performance to boot. But quite not as moving or as profound as I had thought it would be. Its different in the sense that it follows a a character who really isn’t in there facing all the atrocities of Holocaust, but is outside the hell-ring, shuttling through flats, living at the mercy of acquaintances and peeking through flats and toilets out on the street.

The film almost achieves masterpiece stature in its first half as it effortlessly captures a throbbing-with-life Polish Jewish family (three cheers for the superlative cast) and packs in some really difficult scenes like a wheelchair bound old Jewish man being thrown off the balcony, Brody’s old father slapped on the street and rebuked to walk off the footpath, a Jewish boy bringing food to the ghetto sliding through a passage hole in the wall but caught by the German guards who crush his legs by a through beating killing him right there, decent Jews made to randomly dance on the road– just about every scene uptil the families are sent off to Auschwitz is jaw-dropping.

With a choking separation from his family, the good part of the film’s next 1.5 hrs chronicle Brody’s character fending for himself alone as the beautiful city (and the world) around him bears the brunt of the times. Brody however makes all of this 1.5 hours watchable, almost doing what Tom Hanks did to a never-ending Castaway. Yes, it sure is quite fresh to see a viewpoint of a meek bystander of that era who slided between the atrocities and there indeed are some classic old-school morals–that of patience and perseverence being the only worthy virtues to have , and how sometimes (especially where you won’t be much use in, or be killed as just another animal) the bravest thing to do is to escape and hide as ultimately being alive is the biggest achievement-well honed into the script. Sure as hell, its one of the most unmanipulative and uncliched accounts of the era, and boasts of truly an exceptional first half and a credible redemptive climax–but even all this isn’t enough for me to watch all of it again. Maybe its the Holocaust–there’s only a certain amount of it that you can take in a movie and rewatching serious movies like these isn’t exactly the perfect recipe for an “enjoyable” movie night. So yea.. good, serious stuff.

10. The Polar Express in 3D (2004): **

Either its really me or there clearly is a huge dearth of good 3D movies being made. Whichever way, the Polar Express remains one of the strangest and possibly the most bizarre kiddie film ever. A Christmas-doubting young boy is woken up 5 minutes to the Eve by a train which he then boards and a long, fantastical trip to the North Pole (basically a Christmas-present factory) later starts hearing the Christmas bell ring. A storyline as simple as this is stretched to a sleep-inducing 1 hr 40 minutes and when you have to gulp all of it down wearing glasses that go all the way from your forehead to your nose, you are in for some real trouble. I would have happily forgiven the screen-time if only there was some quality 3D. What one gets for a wallet-ripping £12 is just the same old 3D cliches where the camera follows the steam locomotive dropping from cliffs, and rising, and dropping, and rising again. Not impressive.
What really nails this movie experience as truly bad is the animation itself. In some demented state of mind, the producers have plonked in millions to make a whole animated movie out of “performance capture” (a digital technology famously used on the actor Andy Serkis who morphed into a terrifyingly real Gollum in LOTR and Kong in King Kong)– a move that backfires completely. All the kids in the film look clinically depressed, on-the-verge-of-jumping-off-Polar-Express creatures who are in desperate need of some Prozac. Their hyper-moist eyes and stoned-into-place facial muscles make every dialogue jar, every monologue grate. There’s none of the cleverness and wit that one associates with the animations and the tired fable just goes on and on with one silly hot-chocolate song paving way for another christmas carol. The only redeeming sequences are when the whole train slides over a huge frozen lake setting off a frenzy of cracks and a lost ticket being followed by the eager camera all the way upto a vulture’s nest and then coming back into the same chair car.

Overall though it remains a confused and a thoroughly bad experiment in animation that sends its very target audience–the kids– either screaming in disgust or dozing off. As for the adults, you just heard me moan for a good two paragraphs.

Done with rating and ranting on the first 10 films I watched this year. More reviews to follow in my next post. So keep reading!

Stiff by Mary Roach (dead bodies anyone?)

Trust only a prolific columnist like Mary Roach to embark upon a science-n-history-laden world of dead bodies and turn it into something of an un-put-down-able page turner. Non-fiction with a dose of journalism seldom got this readable.The book, as Roach so excellently puts it in her introduction is, about “behind-the-scenes dead”–the cadavers. Right from a brilliant introduction (Roach’s conviction for the subject alongwith her experience with the first cadaver–that of her mum’s sets the ball rolling!), one is introduced to the worlds of surgery, anatomy crimes, body decay, cadavers in crash tests, injury analysis in catastrophes such as air-crashes, ballistic and weapon testing, organ transplantation, decapitation, medicinal cannibalism, freeze-drying funerals, tissue digestion, plastination in reasonable detail. It doesn’t set out to be some exhaustive illustrated guide to the world of cadavers but ends up being a fairly comprehensive and updated account on the subject.

Each of the topics above finds itself seeped in some history, some science (the research by Roach is marvellous– just a look at the number and diversity of sources she extracts the information from is proof enough) and some first-hand personal experience (with Roach herself probing at crematoriums, labs, dead-body fields, surgeons, scientists, analysts–each of them equally insightful). Having said that, let the book not lull you into a false feeling of having known everything about cadavers after reading it– I see it more as a corridor to the curious lives of cadavers.

As said earlier, Roach’s a masterful writer who can elicit a chuckle or make you ponder without too many words or preaching. There’s nuggets of sarcasm and wit providing the required relief and there are some very passionate and thought-provoking critique of the procedures dead bodies have had to go through over the years. If you have got hilarious footnotes, you also get some wonderful ending words at each chapter’s climax (e.g. “We are biology. We are reminded of this at the beginning and the end, at birth and at death. In between we do what we can to forget.”)

Dealing with the world of dead bodies, the book talks about the subject in such colloquial and matter-of-factly language that nowhere does the tone make you feel like some medical student or its details make you switch off your night-lamp.

The wow factor remains very high throughout, most possibly because of the unconventionality of the “lives of dead bodies”. Though its tough to decide what for me was the best chapter, the ones on human decay and injury analysis are superbly penned. The crucifixation experiments and the medicinal cannibalism are perhaps the most graphic and gory chapters of the book (squeamish, sensitive readers-watch out!) while the one on whole body transplant isn’t quite as well written as the others. And yes, the one on freeze-drying funeral where the body ends up as compost is indeed one helluva practical idea and something worth discussing.

But all said and done, I’ll probably always remember this book and author for lending me some knowledge about this elusive world of cadavers in such a witty and passionate manner, and for making me ponder over the fact of “What shall be done to my body once I die?” In author’s words, I’ll leave it for my parents to decide (with an exception for organ donation). No strict wills, no after-death wishes and no post-death offending.

Strange what some books do to you! Highly recommended!

Brokeback Mountain

Brokeback Mountain: ***
Munich: ****

2 movies that made the most noise. So much so that I had to get my lazy arse up and rush to the nearest cinema to see what the chatter was all about. And I have to admit that there indeed was some substance to be found amidst the pile of hype that both of these were buried under. As if the rating hasn’t already declared, its Spielberg’s historic recreation of a government employed hit squad that comes up trumps. Both of them vying for the Best Film at the Oscars and in my humble opinion, even though I am gutted that they’ll hand it to Brokeback.., Munich is a more deserving candidate.

Coming to Brokeback Mountain first. In noway is this gay cowboy drama as profound or as powerful as every critic in every newspaper, every online daily claims it is. Granted, its good cinema–but giving it the status of the best to come out of Hollywood is insulting the film industry, if I can be polite enough. Since Hollywood fever caught me only back in 2003, despite my continuous valiant attempts to be abreast with the plethora of movies released and classics over these few years, I have never felt drawn into the celebrity culture–the interviews, the scandals, the break-ups, the awards, the casting coups etc etc. Which meant that I was more or less oblivious to the presence of the lead actors as A-list stars. Okay, so Gyllenhall caught my attention in the godawful Day After Tomorrow last year. In arguably, one of the most artificial and stilted performance I have seen on the big screen. So I wasn’t all that jazzed up when I looked at the star cast. Which, in a way, is good because when I was watching the movie, I wasn’t hung up/awed by/clapped at the courage of two A-list actors kissing on screen. I mean if BM was made in Bollywood (strictly hypothetical folks… don’t worry, it won’t happen EVER), I’d be applauding it (or more so-the actors) for being brave, courageous, forthright and what not. Yes, I could have been biased by the star-status.

But BM is free of any such biases of mine. And to start on a positive note, credit has to be given to Ledger as the lead who pitches in one of the most true-to-character performances ever (I have read the short story and Ledger is indeed well cast). The guy sure does make you wince with his silences and laconic speech but thanks to the length of the movie, he grows upon you like anything and towards the end, he’s one of the strongest reasons why you are not dozing off in your seat.

At its heart, BM is a tragic love story and with the skill of Ang Lee, the film does manage to tug at your heart enough to choke. Yes, the film douses you into half an hour of pity and sympathy for the doomed lovers and gives you ample time to meditate on the sheer injustice and prejudice imparted by the heartless society to homosexuals (no seriously, I really was sitting with one hand on the chin and really wished they got together and pondered over the fate that would have awaited them if they’d gone ahead with their relationship. At this point I also found myself mumbling “f*ck this society”). Proof enough for effective direction and focussed screenplay.

But all isn’t quite right in BM. For once, its far too long, and way too brooding. Especially the opening hour. Its a faithful translation of the short story, granted, but the absolute absence of direction, progression for a whole one hour sends all the wrong signals to the sleep centre. And sure enough, just as the movie was catching steam, I was groping for my Airwaves gum to keep myself alert. And then there’s the mumbling. Again, when did sporting a Southern accent meant you shouldn’t open your mouth. Atleast the director and the lead guys seem to think so. With a thick accent, the dialogues are just as comprehensible as a foreign language. I didn’t mind it that much as they are lifted almost line to line from the short story but I sure saw and heard numerous tuts and frowns on the fellow viewers’ faces. On a retrospect though, maybe speaking with one’s mouth almost closed is probably one of those classic signs of repression in Ledger’s character. In fact as I think about it, there’s so much about Ennis suggesting he’s uncomfortable being himself (hands in pocket, funny gait, odd constricted body language–typical signs of self-hatred, repression)

Overall, a good enough, if a bit rosier and romanticised translation of a piece of literature, BM’s got a terrific scene (one hell of a cinematic moment this one… when Jack and Ennis have a final confrontation and Ennis breaks down) and a terrific performance from Ledger as its only trump cards. The length, editing (or the lack of it), the brooding nature in the first half dilute the impact that the gritty short story packed. But still, good refreshing piece of cinema that’s quite direct in showcasing the problems of being a homosexual (being in closet, getting on with what society perceives as “normal life”)–something that its publicity designers shy away from and we have “universal love story” etc etc plastered on every hoarding, every poster.

To remind myself of my favourite scene, here’s the dialogue of the same:

Ennis Del Mar: I’m gonna tell you this one time, Jack fuckin’ Twist, an’ I ain’t foolin’. What I don’t know - all them things I don’t know - could get you killed if I come to know them. I mean it.
Jack Twist: Yeah well try this one, and I’ll say it just once!
Ennis Del Mar: Go ahead!
Jack Twist: Tell you what, we coulda had a good life together! Fuckin’ real good life! Had us a place of our own. But you didn’t want it, Ennis! So what we got now is Brokeback Mountain! Everything’s built on that! That’s all we got, boy, fuckin’ all. So I hope you know that, even if you don’t never know the rest! You count the damn few times we have been together in nearly twenty years and you measure the short fucking leash you keep me on - and then you ask me about Mexico and tell me you’ll kill me for needing somethin’ I don’t hardly never get. You have no idea how bad it gets! I’m not you… I can’t make it on a coupla high-altitude fucks once or twice a year! You are too much for me Ennis, you sonofawhoreson bitch! I wish I knew how to quit you.
Ennis Del Mar: [crying] Well, why don’t you? Why don’t you just let me be? It’s because of you that I’m like this! I ain’t got nothing… I ain’t nowhere… Get the fuck off me! I can’t stand being like this no more, Jack.

Jack Twist: God, I wish I knew how to quit you!
Ennis Del Mar: Well, why don’t you?

The scene alone is worth the admission price.

PS: Munich review to follow soon.