Vale Margaret and David

 

It is always hard when a favourite television show ends. The characters have become part of your life, you think of them as friends. You know their quirks, their likes and dislikes, and you are attached to their relationships to each other. Knowing you will never seeing them do anything new again is sad. 

Yesterday, Australia's most famous film critics, Margaret Pomeranz and David Stratton, announced that their 28-year partnership would finish at the end of this year; they are retiring. For those of you outside of Australia, Margaret and David are very similar to Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert; they have a television show called At the Movies where they review the week's releases, each giving a rating out of 5-stars. Before At the Movies, which has been running for 10 years, they had The Movie Show on another channel that ran for 18 years. 

 

They are famous for their inability to agree, though they do not disagree nearly as much as people think they do; they are more likely to like or dislike a film for different reasons. But when they do disagree, it is a joy to watch! Cries of 'Oh Margaret' and 'Oh David' would be traded between the chairs, though it always stopped short of insult. In recent years they added a segment where they would pick a classic and explain why it was so wonderful. These classics are international and Australian classics, and it is rare that they disagree with the choice.

Like any movie-lover, they have their bugbears. David absolutely hates 'shaky-cam,' while Margaret is rarely taken with animation (though she loved the Toy Story series). David also deeply dislikes Lars von Trier. When Melancholia came out Margaret gave it 5 stars, while David could only manage 2.5. 

 

They are incredibly supportive of the Australian film industry, encouraging audiences to embrace local productions and get over 'cultural cringe.' They both gave Samson and Delilah (2009) 5 stars, calling it 'one of the most wonderful films this country has ever produced.' David even praised the handheld camera work, calling it 'an absolute object lesson' in how to use it. The affection for them is so great, and they are so well-respected that for their 25^th year together, they had a special show where Cate Blanchett and Geoffrey Rush hosted, and played them. 

 

Personally, they are one of the reasons I love films so much. I started watching them around 2005, and have absorbed their focus on all aspects of filmmaking. They always make mention of the screenplay, the cinematography, the direction, the director's background, films in a similar vein to the one being discussed; and they have done so with passion and enthusiasm. They were the first to teach me that cinema can be art as well as entertainment, and that the best films are usually both. 

Double acts don't come much better!

 

Based On: A Clockwork Orange

 

Stanley Kubrick's film (from 1971) is a perfect example of a film adaptation that complements the source material. Anthony Burgess' novel is a vividly described story of 15-year-old Alex and his ultraviolent escapades with his droogs. After one particular incident results in a woman's death, Alex is sent to prison, where after two years he undegoes a new radical therapy, the Ludovico Technique, that will get him released in a fortnight. But what price is his freedom? Is he really free?

Kubrick's films follows the novel's plot quite closely, and asks the same questions regarding authority and government against the rights of the individual, and how the ability to make choices rests at the heart of what it means to be human. The greatest deviation from the novel's plot is the final chapter, which is completely left out. This is because the American edition of A Clockwork Orange thought it too sentimental and exorcised it, much to Burgess' chagrin.

The last chapter alters the trajectory of Alex's character significantly (if you are squeamish about spoilers, you should know better than to read analyses of films and books you haven't experienced!). In the film Alex is 'cured' of his negatively reinforced moral behaviour, leaving the audience with a stare similar to the one we were welcomed with in the film's first frame. In the novel, Alex begins to yearn for a different life, and envisages having a wife and baby son. 

 

Which ending is better? In my opinion, neither. Though the book may feel slightly too neat, it does show growth and change in Alex's character. Remember, he is 15 at the novel's beginning; he appears to be going through a rebellious stage, and is yet to mature. Film Alex is back to the way he was at the beginning, implying his two-year ordeal has not fundamentally altered him at all. However, film Alex appears to be a few years older than book Alex, maybe seventeen, so perhaps his is too set in his ways. And he does have a clearly defined idea to rebel against: the government, and the cruelty of society he experienced after prison. Why choose to be better when no one else does?

Burgess' novel is told in the first person, and Kubrick keeps that element with Alex providing a voiceover throughout. As in the novel, Alex frequently address the audience with 'O my Brothers,' drawing us to side and sympathise with him. Malcolm McDowell is brilliant in the role. Despite being in his late twenties at the time, he infuses Alex with a youthful exuberance and charisma that endears him to the audience. This is ultimately what makes the film work. Without it, we would be glad that such a violent individual is spiritually castrated; with it we empathise with his situation. 

'It's not fair! It's not fair that I should feel sick when I hear lovely, lovely Ludwig Van!'

Film has the upper hand over books in its ability to incorporate other art forms into its medium. You can show them or play them, along with the characters reactions; a novel only gives us reactions. In A Clockwork Orange music plays an integral role in the story, and throughout is associated with torture. Alex loves classic music, and its association with the sickness during the Ludovico Technique is the most devastating aspect for him. In the novel all music is ruined for him; in the film only the '9^th' (Beethoven's 9^th Symphony) is associated with the sickness.

Kubrick litters classical music throughout his film, but it is not always rendered 'purely.' During the famous Ludovico Technique scene where 'Ludwig Van' is playing over the images, we the audience hear it played, but it is on an electronic instrument. I found myself hearing parts that I recognised, but could not get the flow of piece in my head. The effect is deliberately unsettling. We do not get the full blast of the piece until later, when Alex is being tortured by the author. 

The author's torture of Alex is payback for an earlier dose of ultraviolence Alex had served the man and his wife in the story; Alex and his droogs beat the man and rape his wife in front of him. In the film Alex sings 'Singin' in the Rain,' kicking the man to the beat of the song. Later in the film, in a move similar to Peter Lorre's whistling in Fritz Lang's M, Alex sings the song whilst relaxing in the author's bath. The author, like Alex with the '9^th', has a negative association with the song, and he loses all sympathy for Alex's plight. 

 

Kubrick and Malcolm McDowell's use of 'Singin' in the Rain' has a similar effect on the viewer as it does on the author from the story. Now when I hear the song, I get a strange mixture of Gene Kelly and A Clockwork Orange in my head.

 

The film and book of A Clockwork Orange are great companion pieces, each enhancing the other. With the novel, you have the full onslaught of Nadsat, a remarkable invention by Anthony Burgess. With the film, you have the music which will forever be associated with the stunning visuals of Kubrick's film.

Great Rom-Coms: When Harry Met Sally

The rom-com is one of the most despised genres of film. The mediocre or bad ones have derision heaped upon them. Their utterly predictable outcome is bemoaned by many; what's the point of watching the film if you know how it will end up? And do not forget the unrealistic expectations it gives people about relationships!

For me, the second point is rather ridiculous: most people are not silly enough to believe that films represent actual life. And while predictability is sometimes problematic, it is not only restricted to this genre of film (in fact most genres are guilty of this because of the very nature of genre). So why is the rom-com often singled out?

Without putting forward a rather sexist response, I can't answer that question. Instead I'm going to talk about the rom-coms I think are great, brilliant, wonderful, perfect, all the superlatives you can think of, and why. First up, one of my absolute favourites:

When Harry Met Sally (1989) details the relationship between Harry and Sally, moving from the first time they meet, when they didn't like each (or at least one of them didn't), to their friendship that eventually tumbles into love. This happens over the space of 12 years (and 3 months!).

Though the main plot is linear, there are two things that are different from most rom-coms Hollywood produces. Peppered throughout the film are 'interviews' with older couples talking about how they met. These characters are not involved in the main plot, and have no tangible connection to the characters. But they are connected thematically, contextualising Harry and Sally's story within the multitude of other couples' experiences. This is not meant to be a representation of how all relationships are, but just one of many different stories that could be told. 

 

These stories do reveal the ending to us, for all the couples are married and many have been together for many years. It is implied that is the result for Harry and Sally. But we don't know the unique story of how they got there. 

 

The second difference is a bit more subtle. The plot plays out in chronological order, but there are gaps in the actual timeline. Between the drive to New York and seeing each other at the airport, five years pass; after that five more years pass before they actually start getting to know each other properly.

Coincidence plays a large part in their relationship. 'Destiny', that old rom-com staple, is not what compels them together; they hardly think of each other in the intervening periods. And, although genre conventions dictate that people who start off hating each other come to like each other, those films are rarely set over such a long period of time, and thus the transition feels forced. When Harry Met Sally allows the characters to change in a more natural way, and are influenced by factors other than each other.

Dialogue is incredibly important for films about relationships, and this film has some of the best lines in film history. Of course, everyone knows the (in)famous 'I'll have what she's having,' but there are many Nora Ephron gems in this script. 'Baby fish mouth' is a hilarious moment, and for me is now a saying; Sally's deadpan 'It's amazing, you look like a normal person, but actually you are the angel of death' is fabulous. Most of Harry and Sally's exchanges are wonderful, but the films declaration of love is perfection:

Harry: I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Sally: You see, that is just like you Harry. You say things like that and you make it impossible for me to hate you! And I hate you Harry, I really hate you …. I hate you.

 

  Great dialogue is all well and good, but Ephron also wrote great characters. Harry and Sally are not bland stereotypes; Sally may be high maintenance, but she is not a shrill, demanding person. Harry is at times cavalier in his relationships with women, but he is also coming to terms with a painful divorce, which has understandably rattled his approach to commitment. They also have small quirks particular to them: Sally orders food in such detail that I assume it often comes seasoned with spit (not on the side!), while Harry reads the last page of the books he reads just in case he dies before the end. These don't affect the plot, but they help flesh out these characters.

The supporting characters are just as well-drawn. Jess and Marie, Harry and Sally's respective best friends, could almost have a film of their own. They are not simply there to offer advice to Harry and Sally but have their own story arc, which involves falling in love and marrying each other, all in the time it takes Harry and Sally to figure out how they feel for each other.

One cannot talk about this film without mentioning its huge debt to Woody Allen's films. I saw this before I saw any of Allen's films, and when I watched Annie Hall I was struck by the similarities: set in New York, smart-talking characters; Sally reminded me of Annie, Harry had aspects of Alvy. This is in no way a bad thing; Allen's rom-coms are some of the best out there, and if you are going to be a bit derivative, take from the best!

It is interesting to note that the film was originally going to end with Harry and Sally not getting together, an ending which some like Rob Reiner, Nora Ephron and Carrie Fisher have said would be more realistic. They may be right, but this approach takes me back to the 'unrealistic' tag thrown at many rom-coms. The film is not a definitive answer to the question 'Can men and women just be friends?' but an exploration of that tension. As the couples show us, everyone's story is different, so an attempt at 'truth' is rather irrelevant.

I first watched this when I was fifteen and I have loved it since. It is not just a great romantic comedy, it's a great, brilliant, wonderful and yes, perfect movie. 

 

Based On: Rashomon

'Based On' will be posts about book to film adaptations. If I am not too lazy they will become a regular feature. Warning: sometimes the book's plot is slightly different from the film, and if you don't want it spoiled for you, do not read this post (I mean that in the nicest way). First up:

Ryunosuke Akutagawa's 'Rashomon' and 'In a Bamboo Grove'; and Akira Kurosawa's Rashomon

Akira Kurosawa's Rashomon (1950) is a cinema classic based on two short stories by Japanese author Ryunosuke Akutagawa: 'Rashomon' and 'In a Bamboo Grove.'

Rashomon is the gate of Kyoto, a city which has recently undergone a several severe calamities. A young servant with a festering pimple on his cheek is sitting under the gate taking refuge from the persistent rain. He decides to become a thief in order to survive. He has an encounter with an old woman who is plucking hair from corpses in order to make wigs to sell.

'In a Bamboo Grove' presents seven separate testimonies and confessions relating to circumstances surrounding the death of a man in a bamboo grove (what a surprise). Four of these are different versions of the events in the grove, and the reader learns very quickly that no one is telling the exact truth.

If you have seen Kurosawa's film you will have noticed that the screenwriters stuck very closely to 'In a Bamboo Grove.' So why call it Rashomon?

The film keeps the torrential rain from 'Rashomon' but has three disparate people, a woodcutter, a priest and a commoner, take shelter underneath the Rashomon. The commoner retains some of the servant's characteristics from the short story: near the end of the film he steals trinkets from a baby abandoned at gate. He also berates the woodcutter, who may have inadvertently killed the dead man, for being a hypocrite.

In the short story the servant is morally disgusted at the sight of the old woman plucking corpses' hair, but she attempts to justify it, explaining that she had known the dead person, and they had sold dodgy fish to survive when alive. The old woman says 'I think she'd understand what I'm doing to her.' (8) The servant responds by stealing the old woman's clothes, and before he runs off into the night replies 'That's what I have to do to keep from starving to death.'(9)

This world that Agutagawa presents is clearly an amoral one, and for the majority of Kurosawa's film the audience is presented with the same world. People will do anything to protect themselves: lie, cheat, steal.

Ryunosuke Agutagawa committed suicide at thirty-five, and spent much of his life fearing he would suffer from mental illness like his mother. This partially explains his pessimistic view of human behaviour, a view which leaves a reader without a morally upright character to lean on.

Kurosawa's film ends quite differently. The baby, as babies often do, stands as a symbol of hope for the future. It acts as a reprieve for the woodcutter, who tells the priest that he will look after it, as he has six other children at home; it is a place is will be cared for and loved. The film's final shot is the woodcutter walking home with the baby. He is able to go home because the rain has stopped; his way is now clear.

Kurosawa and the screenwriters could have chosen to tell only the story of 'In a Bamboo Grove.' It is a very clever story but it the audience leaves mistrusting the characters. The reason for the more uplifting ending is likely to lie with the historical context of the film.

It is five years after World War II, and we all know Japan had suffered and inflicted lots of pain in that war. People would have felt that society was in a decay similar to the decay represented by the flooding rain at the film's beginning. The positivity about the future at the end, with the passing of the rain and the return of sunshine reminded the viewer that just like climate with its changing seasons, the world goes through decay and re-growth.

If you haven't read Agutagawa's short stories I would highly recommend doing so. It is interesting to note that Kurosawa's Rashomon is not technically a 'faithful' adaptation of its source material, and a good argument against that approach to book-to-film adaptations.

A Few of My Favourite Things ... (Part Two)

Now for my favourite directors (and occasional screenwriters).

Woody Allen

In all of his films (bar Interiors) I have laughed out loud several times. The slightly surreal approach he has in his stories are great, adding an air of unpredictability to the plot. He also writes great parts for women. The scene in Hannah and Her Sisters where the three sisters meet up for lunch is beautifully choreographed, both in its dialogue and camera movements.

Pedro Almodovar

The bombastic humour in all of his films is charming and appealing. He also keeps their humanity in the foreground, letting us see their foibles as well as their strengths. Almodovar is also another male writer/ director who writes great roles for women.

Billy Wilder

This man was simply a genius. He crossed genres with great ease, and would often make a genre-defining film (comedy: Some Like It Hot; noir: Double Indemnity). Wilder also knew how to get the best from his actors. Though Marilyn Monroe was having breakdowns during Some Like It Hot her performance is wonderful. And the slow collapse of Ray Milland in The Lost Weekend is wonderfully paced.

Steve McQueen

I have been rendered mentally speechless watching all three of his films. They all deal with some aspect of imprisonment, making them often difficult viewing. But it is so hard to look away when they are shot, lit and acted so beautifully. For me Shame is his best.

Stanley Kubrick

Like Wilder Kubrick could cross into any genre and be exceptional. 2001: A Space Odyssey is the greatest science fiction film ever (and I do love a good science fiction film). Dr Strangelove is one of the funniest films ever made, and a brilliant satire.

Andrei Tarkovsky

For someone who only made a handful of films in his lifetime, Tarkovsky figured filmmaking out very quickly. Though I cannot pretend to understand what he is saying to me half the time, his films are so beautiful that I am happy to simply let them wash over me. He rarely uses special effects, instead taking natural elements, like fire, water, wind, and imbue them with a mythical or metaphorical quality.

I have noticed that all of these directors not only direct, but also have a hand in writing the films (if not being solely responsible for the script). Do I subconsciously subscribe to auteur theory? Probably yes.

These listed here are either directors who I have seen a lot of, and like but don't love, or have seen only one or two of their films, and don't feel I can say I love them yet.

A few others: Alfred Hitchcock, Ingmar Bergman, Preston Sturges, Roman Polanski, Hayao Miyazaki, Rob Reiner, Franco Zeffirelli, Sanjay Leela Bhansali, Fritz Lang, Nicholas Roeg

A Few of My Favourite Things … (Part One)

Here is a snapshot of my favourite films.

Some Like It Hot (1959) dir. Billy Wilder

The perfect ensemble film. It never fails to make me laugh, particularly the first shot of the Curtis and Lemmon's newly shaved legs scuttling along in heels. Jack Lemmon steals almost every scene he is in with his energetic performance. Tony Curtis is handsome as a man, and ridiculous as a woman. Marilyn Monroe is funny and lovely. My sister and I constantly quote this film to each other. ('Nobody talks like that!')

The Lady Eve (1941) dir. Preston Sturges

Barbara Stanwyck is highly underrated. She never stuck to one film genre, and in my opinion deserves to be as well-remembered as Bette Davis and Katherine Hepburn for her acting abilities. Here she is gorgeous as Jean Harrington who seduces and bamboozles Henry Fonda's Charles 'Hopsy' Pike. Their chemistry is perfect; and that scene on the couch (or at least one of them is on the couch) is one of the best scenes I have ever seen, and it is all done in one take! (Why Hopsy!)

I have realised that these two films have several things in common. They have great scripts full of quotable dialogue, and casts with natural chemistry. Both also explore (not too seriously) ideas around sex and deception. Joe fools Sugar into thinking that he is Shell Oil, Jr. Gerry as Daphne attracts Osgood Fielding, III (despite being a man in drag). Even Sugar pretends with Shell Oil, saying she is really a society girl, just doing the band gig as a laugh.

Hopsy engages himself to Jean thinking that she is the daughter of a wealthy oil man (hey I'm sensing a pattern). She then wins his hand as Lady Eve, and in a wonderful act or revenge teaches him that good girls aren't always as good as they appear (and the bad not nearly as bad as you think).

None of these people may be perfect, but darn me if these two films aren't! Expect me to come back to them often.

After these two my list of favourite films is a jumble. Most of them are funny and romantic, like When Harry Met Sally, The Thin Man. If I ever decide to write a list of my favourite films I would have two separate lists: one of feel-good movies that make me laugh and have happy endings; and other of more serious fare, like 2001: A Space Odyssey, Stalker, Shame. I love these films, but in a different way to the other list. They are beautiful, thought-provoking but not for everyday consumption.

Neither list is superior to the other. Sometimes one needs a good comedy, others time I want to be challenged and inspired. Here are a few from both lists, in no order:

When Harry Met Sally, It Happened One Night, The Princess Bride, Annie Hall, La Belle et la Bete, Aladdin, Lady Chatterley, The Thin Man, Volver, The Apartment, Trois Coleurs: Bleu, Singin' in the Rain, Amelie, Stalker, Notorious, Rosemary's Baby

Are you similarly two-minded when it comes to films? What are some of your favourites?

Oh, look. Another film blog.

Films have always been a significant part of my life, but until this year they had uncomfortably played second fiddle to my love of reading. I was a casual viewer who fancied themselves pretty knowledgable about films: I was slowly working my way through Steven Jay Schneider's 1001 Movies You Should See Before You Die, crossing a new film off the list about once a month; I was not averse to subtitles, thought Black and White was (and is) beautiful, and thought myself pretty cool for having seen around 10 silent films (mostly Chaplin ones).

Then one day I stumbled upon a spreadsheet I had started when I was 16. It was a list of all the films I had seen, though I hadn't updated it for seven years. After adding the few hundred I had seen in the meantime I was suddenly struck by how small the number was: just over 600.

No, that couldn't be right. I mean, 600 is not a bad number, but I've spent hours watching films, there are several hundred DVDs in our house! Surely it's more than that!

That was the catalyst for a huge change in my life this year. I have how started pursuing films: I use my library card to borrow ten DVDs at a time (compared to two or three books), scour the TV guide for movies to record, and have joined the film club at my local art gallery. Unfortunately, due to lack of funds, I rarely go to the cinema (in Australia you don't get much change from $20!).

Not only have I started watching a large number of films, I have begun exploring film history. Though my knowledge is still rudimentary, I can at least place a film into a vague genre, and think about the historical influences on its production. I am now far more interested in who is behind the camera than who is in front of it, and how the camera is even positioned and why.

I have started this blog in order to connect and discuss these things with like-minded people, as well as to put forward my own thoughts about these films. I am not entirely sure what approach I will take on this blog (just reviews? Analyses? Comparisons? Rants?), but expect a lot of talk about lists (the longer the better!). Also, I have not entirely abandoned reading, and have been interested in book-to-film adaptations since high school; therefore expect many musings on what makes a good movie adaptation.

It has taken me ages to get around to starting this blog. It is largely due to laziness, but also an uncertainty about the credibility of my ideas. But if I don't share them, I will never know.

Oh, and the number of films I have seen? Up to 780 in three months.