Taxi Driver (1976)
Director: Martin Scorsese
Actors: Robert De Niro, Cybill Shepherd, Jodie Foster
Synopsis: A lonely, insomniac New York taxi driver, Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro), develops an obsession with two women: Betsy (Cybill Shepherd) – a pretty girl working on the presidential campaign for Senator Palantine, and Iris (Jodie Foster) – a teenager working as a prostitute.
Review: To watch Taxi Driver is to bear witness to one of the ultimate acts of cinematic alchemy. It’s one of those films that transcends the simple world ‘cinema’, and extends into the realm of art. It’s a life-force, it’s a thing of pure, wild energy – it is. It’s a work where every constituent element conspires perfectly – the direction (amazing use of slo-mo and voiceover in particular from Scorsese), the story, the dialogue, the simply amazing central performance from Robert De Niro, Bernard Herrmann’s fantastic musical score, the stellar support cast – uniformly brilliant, and even the canvas of New York City in the mid-Seventies. I would classify it as one those rare films (there are perhaps only a dozen in one’s lifetime) that had me utterly immersed, gripped and enthralled for the entirety of its running time, and then subsequently lodged in my conscious for days after.
Perhaps the main reason why it is just so good, is that it’s an absolutely nailed-on portrait of solipsism in its purest form – and I’m sure the film represents a great case study for psychologists in identifying the mutant forms in which that solipsism takes effect, i.e. in Travis’ instance as a lethal cocktail of narcissism, paranoia and gross sociopathy.
Taxi Driver has so many classic and immemorial sequences, but watching it for the umpteenth time, less obvious scenes drew my attention. Travis and Betsy’s first ‘date’ – having coffee and cake one lunchtime – is an absolute masterclass of direction, acting and tremendous writing from Paul Schrader. You have to watch it twice to realise that what’s happening is not really a meeting or conversation at all, Travis and Betsy simply do not connect one iota from their respective polar mindsets, and Travis in particular proves completely incapable of understanding or having the cultural references to develop any rapport with Betsy. Scorsese also crucially excludes Travis from only one scene in the entire film, and this is no accident, as that different perspective highlights the complexity (completely reversing Travis’ tendency to over-simplify everything) of Iris’ entanglement with her pimp, Sport.
The end-scene is sublime – is it an ironic reversal of fortune for Travis, a wish-fulfilment exercise in his head, or a fantasy projection after he’s died? The mere existence of these alternative readings attests to the richness of Scorsese’s work, and the success he’s had in taking us inside the intense, hypnotic and hellish mind of an unreliable narrator. (October 2014)
Django Unchained (2012)
Director: Quentin Tarantino
Actors: Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio
Synopsis: Travelling German bounty hunter, Dr Schultz (Christoph Waltz), frees slave Django (Jamie Foxx) from a chain gang, and enlists his help on various missions. In return, Schultz promises to take Django to the residence of famed plantation owner, Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio), so Django can free his enslaved wife.
Review: A Quentin Tarantino picture is by definition a ‘must-see’, and his back-catalogue has rightly earned him the privilege of our attention (to coin a phase used by Jamie Foxx and Leonardo DiCaprio’s characters in this Tarantino film). Tarantino is always playing and inventing with his medium, and his filmscapes invariably throw up interesting dramatic, political and cinephilic paradigms.
Django Unchained arguably has most to offer as a sly political-cultural work. Wrapped up in its seeming Spaghetti Western/Blaxploitation/Gangsta riff are actually a couple of quite prevalent points about black identity. One is the notion that the ‘self-hating’ black man is a phenomenon directly linked to the legacy of the culture of slavery, the other is that Django ironically ‘self-realises’ through a proto-process of more familiar, celebrity black male posturing – he’s cool, badass, and stronger and smarter than the white guys.
Sadly, it is at times quite an undramatic film – particularly in its second half, and there are two clunky ellipses or ‘leaps of faith’ required by the audience that dissipate the strength of the drama. The first, as I alluded to earlier, is that Django morphs into an intelligent, cocky freeman suspiciously quickly. I know his mentor, Dr Schultz, asks him to “act the part”, but the move from mute, disempowered slave to steely-eyed hero feels arbitrary. Second, Samuel L. Jackson’s ‘Uncle Tom’ stumbling across Django’s plan to free his wife, is a clear case of convenient dramatic ellision – a transparent sense that Tarantino wants to rush on the plot at that time, even though there’s no real sense that Jackson’s character should be wary. In some of the longer scenes too, Tarantino gives the impression he’s feeling for a touch of his old dialogue golddust, yet it never really quite comes off. That said, the opening stretch of the film is evocative and funny, due in no small part to the excellent turn by Christoph Waltz as the loquacious German bounty-hunter who sets in motion some of the wittier and more subtle asides about the American South at this time. (October 2014)
We are the Best! (2013)
Director: Lukas Moodysson
Actors: Mira Barkhammar, Mira Grosin, Liv LeMoyne
Synopsis: In 1980s Stockholm, three schoolgirls – all nominal ‘outsiders’ – join forces to form a female punk band…
Review: This sweet, compassionate drama about the burgeoning shoots of adolescent realisation in three young Swedish girls (as emblematised in their attempt to form an all-girl punk band) is a finely judged piece of cinema from Lukas Moodysson.
Befitting the plucky spirit and inherent gaucheness of his three protagonists, Moodysson keeps the scenario simple, avoiding the temptation to overly determine and politicise the story. Instead, We are the Best! is a gentle ode to female camaraderie and that precious time in a young person’s life (between approximately the ages of eleven to thirteen) where they’re on the cusp of teenage – and by extension, adult – concerns such as identity, sexuality and their general ‘ideological’ consciousness.
It’s nicely filmed as well by Moodysoon – it’s shot on handheld cameras and with natural light, and the acting – if not exactly improvised – looks like it was probably helped by having a close-knit, relaxed production ethos. Moodysson creates a great sense of place for his wintry Stockholm milieu, and I particularly liked the scene where the three girls go to meet a fellow young punk band in Solna (one of the girls jokes about this being out in the ‘suburbs’) and we get a feel for Swedish municipal housing and how just generally fricking freezing it all looks! (October 2014)
The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)
Director: Martin Scorsese
Actors: Leonardo DiCaprio, Jonah Hill, Margot Robbie
Synopsis: Stockbroker Jordan Belfort (Leonard DiCaprio) builds up an estimable fortune in the Eighties and Nineties, but the hedonism and loose morals of his ways threatens to catch up with him…
Review: The Wolf of Wall Street is a quite staggering piece of relentless, indefatigable cinematic invention, and is testament to the sheer energy (as well as the more cerebral qualities) of Martin Scorsese and Leonard DiCaprio as storytellers.
I know the film has generated many column inches from what are (in my opinion) misappropriated criticisms whereby Scorsese is somehow accused of condoning Jordan Belfort’s grotesque, hedonistic form of Capitalism. That reading has two fundamental flaws; first, it confuses documentation with subjectivity (in this case, condoning), and in many respects, the film reveals just how seasoned and respectful a storyteller Scorsese is. He’s not rubbing our faces in the obvious moral to the story (the one end sequence where Belfort’s prosecuting cop has a quietly victorious ride in the subway besides), as he’d be justified in hoping his audience has the intelligence to apply the subtext anyway. I also think it would be a far worse film tonally and dramatically if Scorsese watered down the excesses of Belfort’s lifestyle and practices (and the verve with which he depicts that), by putting in inorganic, morally equivalent references to ‘victims’ of Belfort’s economics. And finally, the film is art, a ‘treatment’, a good few removes from reality in its characterisation of Belfort and his ethos as one-long nutty, vacuous, chemically-fuelled surge of excess – that’s the only obligation Scorsese has, to commit to the telling of that story.
Of course, it helps that the film in question is plain good too. It almost felt like a blast of old Scorsese, not the establishment pro who has turned in brilliant (if increasingly, workmanlike) pictures in recent years, but the man who almost had copywright on that genre of rich, dense, characterful ‘corruption’ epics which he gave life to some twenty years before with the likes of GoodFellas and Casino. It’s evidence of a filmmaker at the top of his game – the story never lets up at any point, the necessary relentless correlative of narcotic mania from filmmaker to character is sustained the whole way through, and Scorsese is ever inventive (we get the familiar ‘ironic’ narration, there’s plenty of shifts in chronology, some of the scenes are filmed in quasi-screwball, comic style, and there are lots of devices like films-within-films and infomercials merging with the actual storyline). It’s all hugely enjoyable, it’s one of the great Hollywood critiques of Capitalism, and an unqualified triumph for Scorsese and an electric Leonardo DiCaprio in the title role. (October 2014)
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)
Director: Shane Black
Actors: Robert Downey Jr, Michelle Monaghan, Val Kilmer
Synopsis: Petty New York thief, Harry Lockhart (Robert Downey Jr), is catapulted into the glamorous world of nocturnal LA when he inadvertently gatecrashes an audition in downtown Manhattan and proceeds to convince the casting agents of his worth. When in LA, he accompanies Private Detective-cum-Studio Consultant, Perry (Val Kilmer), for research for a part, and also bumps into childhood sweetheart, Harmony (Michelle Monaghan). These two strands converge when Harry and Perry come across a dead body….
Review: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is a quite brilliant, funny, and not altogether unnuanced, riff/pastiche/send-up (call it what you will) of fatalistic, old-school LA noir. I’ll come on to the humour in a moment because comedy is probably the strongest facet to Kiss Kiss Bang Bang‘s artillery, but the film does quite an uncanny job of honouring those noir conventions. There’s the intentionally convoluted, confusing plot, plenty of play on ‘starlets’ and mixed identities, and the fuzzy line between the glamorous and salubrious aspects of Hollywood culture is mined acutely.
It’s also a very funny commentary on LA. It captures the party/nightlife scene wickedly – from the desperate, toxic ambience of competitiveness and careerism, to the dating/mating game being utterly mercenary. Director Shane Black has not only done his homework in terms of appropriating the constituent elements of noir, but in also making it a vibrantly directed piece of zany action cinema too. There are moments of amusing, propulsive editing where Harry continually gets denied his moment of ‘consumation’ with childhood idol, Harmony – first, when he seems to have made a ‘charm’ breakthrough with her on their first night out (only for the action to fast-forward to a scenario where Harry has got annihilated and slept with Harmony’s obnoxious best friend instead), and then later in the piece, Harmony gets into bed with Harry and the ‘deed’ seems finally set to be done, before Harmony is catapulted out of Harry’s apartment because she reveals she slept with his best friend when they were younger.
The postmodern, ironic bent of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang lends it much of its anarchic energy too. Harry’s wry noir commentary is a great piss-take of famous crime voiceovers of yonder, and there’s a fair amount of ‘breaking the fourth wall’ with Harry speaking direct to camera and even getting involved in some of the story’s editing. With actors as cool and smooth as Robert Downey Jr and Val Kilmer, Black probably didn’t need to overdemonstrate the ‘wit’ of the piece as much as he does, and the closing gambit of Downey Jr and Kilmer’s characters closing the film as a ‘film within their film’ almost seems a tad tame, and I felt it could have been even more radical if Downey Jr and Kilmer had introduced that conceit as their actual, real-life, actorly selves – adding an extra layer of irreverence to this most scabrous of films. (October 2014)
Nymphomaniac: Volume I (2013)
Director: Lars von Trier
Actors: Stacy Martin, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Stellan Skarsgård
Synopsis: A lonely man, Seligman (Stellan Skarsgård), chances upon a destitute and beaten up woman, Joe (Charlotte Gainsbourg), on the street outside his apartment. He brings her inside, gives her shelter, and hears her stories about her sexual escapades up to that point.
Review: It must be serendipity but I saw Nymphomaniac just off the back of finally catching up with François Ozon’s more ‘conventional’ treatment of an unusual female sexual odyssey, Jeune et Jolie, and they certainly make for interesting companion pieces. Where Ozon’s piece is a classic, classy piece of French psychoanalysis on the phenomenon/state of ‘nyphomania’ so Von Trier’s Nymphomaniac is a more discursive and wry take on the subject (not surprising given Von Trier’s back-catalogue, although this is certainly one of his straighter, less disingenuous pieces).
I haven’t seen Nymphomaniac: Volume II at the time of writing this, so I can’t comment on how the framing device of Stellan Skarsgård/Charlotte Gainsbourg is going to be concluded, but I like it so far – with its ironic juxtaposition of the woman viewing her nymphomania through the prism of guilt and sin, while the caring man – almost to a comic extent – tries to counter her self-hatred through compassion and increasingly pseudo-intellectual justifications for her behaviour.
The use of vignettes to recount the sexual escapades is colourful in its own right, as well as being a commentary on the art of storytelling itself (Skarsgård’s character even acknowledges the potential unreliability of this set-up, before carrying on to take Gainsbourg’s stories at face value). The stories themselves are all different – ranging from outright smut, to sex comedy, to farce (the sequence involving Joe getting more than she bargained for from Mrs H – a riotous cameo from Uma Thurman – is fantastic) – although Von Trier can’t help but revel in the opportunity to push the boundaries of bourgeois-bating decency with among other things a collage of penises, plenty of actual sex (using the genitalia of porn actors?), and even having the father character played by Christian Slater soil himself! There is almost a predictability to Von Trier’s licentousness, though that’s not to say I don’t appreciate what I perceive to be his increasing skill at image-making, and his ability to infuse each sequence with some element of dramatic or spectatorial ingenuity. (October 2014)
For Those in Peril (2013)
Director: Paul Wright
Actor: George MacKay, Kate Dickie, Nichola Burley
Synopsis: In an isolated Scottish coastal town, Aaron (George MacKay) is the sole survivor of a fishing boat accident which has claimed the lives of many of the other young men in the community. Some months on and George is struggling with a clear case of survivor guilt…
Review: When I was hawking my debut screenplay project round to various film agencies and production companies earlier this year, one of the producers I spoke to referenced a similarity he saw between my screenplay (Eivissa) and this British film which had just gone out on general release. Having finally caught up with it, I can see the loose similarities for sure – they’re both about bereavement, they’re both set in distinctive coastal milieus, and they’re both expressionistic dramas. Therein the comparison ends alas, for although I haven’t actually made my film yet, they are poles apart in sensibility, and I really feel For Those in Peril is a naive, undercooked, clumsy film which squanders all the potential inherent in its scenario (and the evident technical skills of its director, Paul Wright).
The biggest problem with For Those in Peril is that it ends up not really being about its subject matter (trauma, bereavement, social exclusion, folklore). Instead, the narrative raw materials are simply an excuse for a cacophony of superficial and increasingly sadistic filmic devices and images. The story there to be told is a decent one, and I’m certainly all for immersive, unconventional cinematic universes, but Wright’s command of film grammar is utterly hollow. No scene lasts longer than a few seconds, there’s a continual, almost comical use of Super-8 flashbacks, there are too many broody/mysterious close-ups, an abundance of inorganic colour-coded expressionistic mood scenes, and a predictable late detour into horror, gore mode. Where the story warranted more patient, sensitive, Malickian poetics, Wright simply pulverises the material rather than letting it breathe. (October 2014)