YellowManReanimated Reviews

Origin (2023)

A moving discovery of the ways in which all of our lives are connected

[8/10 · 16 March 2024]

It is rarely the purview of narrative cinema to base its essential premise on an idea; this is much more typically an area for documentary. But, eschewing all of the potential pitfalls, DuVernay boldly goes forth and creates a feature film based on the book by Isabel Wilkerson "Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents". The film focuses on Wilkerson, played by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, as she researches, develops and expounds her fundamental argument: racism, misogyny and group discrimination in all of its forms is a feature of the same phenomenon: caste; namely, society's way of creating inferior and superior groups in a way that is designed to benefit those who possess the power to place themselves at the top of the hierarchy. In some ways this idea seems overly simplistic. Can one genuinely equate the Final Solution with the Middle Passage? Is it not reductive to see these two seemingly distinct phenomena as being connected by the same concept? This is an argument made by one of the characters in the film as Wilkerson travels to Germany to investigate the ways in which Jews were persecuted during the Third Reich. However, the film makes it clear that DuVernay has made up her mind: she is fully supportive of Wilkerson's thesis and she delivers a series of historical observations and montage set-pieces which rush, collide, enthral and thrill the viewer and provide a moving case for the theory on display.

The fact that the architecture of this film makes it extremely difficult to disentangle the intellectual from the artistic is what makes it so challenging to review. If one attempts to separate, for example, the art direction, the use of music, the incredible acting, particularly by Ellis-Taylor, and the beautiful montage sequences from the central concept then one is at risk of assessing the surface of the film and may miss, or perhaps betray a lack of appreciation for, what lies beneath. You see, I did think the film looked beautiful, sounded beautiful and contained exemplary performances. I thought the film soared with passionate ambition, humanity and warmth. But, despite all of these things, I'm not sure the film does enough in and of itself to merit agreement with its fundamental premise.

After all, how could a 2-hour-22-minute feature film achieve such a thing while also providing a human tale which grounds and reveals its central character? If DuVernay really wanted to achieve such pedagogical ambitions, surely she would've been better served with a documentary after all. Yet the reason this is not a documentary is because the film sets out to enable the audience to live through the protagonist's story as a unique way of accessing its central idea. It is art plus intellectualism. Taking this approach places more pressure on the film than any movie ought to be subject to. The film's merit ought simply to lie with its ability to tell its story and if it had done so without feeling the need to reach such clear conclusions in addition to persuading the viewer of those same conclusions then it would've had the potential to be a perfect film. Alas...

Art soars highest, in my view, when it encourages the viewer to ask questions. It is not for art to tell us the answers but to encourage us to search for those answers within ourselves. What this film does achieve is that it encourages us to access our own humanity, it provides a bridge for people of all colours, cultures, backgrounds and genders to find common cause and to unite in the face of prejudice and discrimination. It encourages this through the horror and the suffering it shows, while also depicting triumph against adversity, and a unity that is able to be forged against the backdrop of historic and pervasive prejudice. It presents two roads that are open to us: connection and common humanity or separation and devitalising resentment. It links the past to the present and warns us of the need to appreciate the pitfalls we are constantly in danger of falling into. All of this was achieved not because of the film's central intellectual argument but, I shall argue, despite it. You simply don't need to believe that the Final Solution and the Middle Passage were motivated by the same phenomena in order to be moved by the power the film possesses.

So, I found this to be a wonderfully powerful and engaging film that I feel privileged to have watched. It is undoubtedly one of the most unique cinematic experiences I've ever had. The fact that I have to conclude that it doesn't entirely work on its own merits should not detract from the undeniable ways in which the film is effective. The depth of emotional experience that this film has the potential to conjure is worth the price of admission alone.

Nymphomaniac: Vol. I (2013)

Inert and contemptible from beginning to end

[1/10 · 16 March 2024]

Nymphomaniac 1+2 review: a sophomoric misanthrope is enabled to make an emotionally barren, intellectually banal, and completely pointless yarn which serves as an excuse to show genitalia in close-up alongside masochistic female abuse. It reveals a deep misogyny, which preposterously attempts to garb itself in feminist clothing. It offers such a distorted view of humanity and human society that it makes an Elephant Sitting Still seem like a Disney romance. It is bankrupt of all narrative quality and is nothing short of contemptible in every respect. I was mostly bored by it but, on principle, I actively despise it. 1/10 (and that's only because I don't give zeroes)

American Fiction (2023)

Ph**k this film

[3/10 · 15 March 2024]

What an atrocious film this was. Narratively it was like watching someone attempt to juggle 15 eggs and have each one splat on his face. Cord Jefferson is not the black Charlie Kaufman, as much as it seems he wants to be. And, yes, I'm going to say it, this feels like a film that panders to "white people". It serves up a mountain of white guilt and draws on predominantly white cinematic influences in order to show "white people" how silly they are while also making "black people" palatable to "white people" by showing how much like "white people" "black people" really are. I use the inverted commas advisedly because, despite Jeffrey Wright's great acting, the film doesn't contain any real people at all. It just wastes 2 hours of the viewer's life offering such low-hanging fruit you'd risk putting your back out to gather it, all the while creating parody after parody (none of which were particularly funny in my view) and pontificating obnoxiously while saying absolutely nothing of substance. Of course the pandering was effective, Oscar nomination secured. But it doesn't prevent the whole charade from being absolutely pathetic.

3/10.

Saltburn (2023)

An emotionally barren wasteland of unconvincing characters being placed in unconvincing scenarios doing and saying unconvincingly horrid things to one another

[4/10 · 2 January 2024]

Saltburn

If one were looking for a definition of tastelessness in cinematic form then I would suggest this effort as a worthy candidate. One should note that it's not particularly worthy in many other respects, with the notable exception of its cinematography and set design; these happen to be the only areas where any true care appears to have been given. For example, there are some arresting uses of shadow, and a variety of visually stimulating locations but there endeth the praise, almost...

I also wish to make some positive remarks regarding the performance of Rosamund Pike, who, to my mind, is an extraordinary actress who hasn't received the filmic exposure that her talents merit. Her icy charisma and ability to appear authentic in pretty much any role she undertakes makes her scenes one of the very few pleasures this movie bestows.

Now onto the problems. Firstly, there are the characters. The fact that none of them, except possibly Pike's, appears credible is not actually the film's biggest issue; what is much more dissatisfying is that none of the relationships in the film are even marginally convincing. There is not an iota of chemistry between any of the film's characters and that especially applies to the relationship which occupies the film's central focus, that between Oliver (Barry Keoghan) and Felix (Jacob Elordi). Now it's easy for one to excuse this by referring to how emotionally dysfunctional Oliver and Felix (as well as the entirety of Felix's family) appear to be, but that would be to miss the point. There isn't even any superficial connection or slight moment of feeling that is generated between Oliver and Felix which would make you believe that they would bother to utter a morning greeting to each other, never mind about the idea that one would invite the other to his family home. The issue here is not with the acting but with the pacing, the writing and, most significantly, the film's incessantly odious tone.

The general misanthropy and nastiness that pervades each scene does not provide any space for the actors to begin to cultivate any sense of fine feeling, or feeling of any kind in fact, for each other. Oliver talks about loving and being in love at the beginning of the film but all we are truly presented with is an emotionally barren wasteland of unconvincing characters being placed in unconvincing scenarios doing and saying unconvincingly horrid things to one another. There is no emotional texture to draw on, there's no empathy, no joy, no connection, and, thus, there are no stakes. It is simply impossible to care what becomes of any of the characters because the film never allowed any of the characters to become anything in the first place.

Some of this would've been redeemed if the film was at least humorous. However, I'm afraid that, despite a number of obvious and jarring attempts, humour was never experienced for this viewer. The film was in fact painfully humourless. After all, it's hard to laugh at scenarios which are neither persuasive nor engaging.

A word should be spoken on the casting of Barry Keoghan as the film's protagonist. Yes, he was probably miscast. His Liverpudlian accent is inconsistent and while he does creepy and arresting extremely well in other films, he possesses none of the oily charm or comfortingly sympathetic demeanour his character requires. Matt Damon does a much better job in a film with similar themes: The Talented Mr Ripley. He demonstrates a boyish innocence and exuberance alongside an unnatural cunning which makes him endearing and credible and thus draws him into a world to which someone of his station would normally be barred entry. Keoghan's Oliver, on the other hand, one would not wish to touch with a barge pole, and, if one did, one would run away from him as soon as one had found oneself doing so. However, the casting of Keoghan only serves to speak to larger faults with the film. He was unsuitable, it's true, but so was the entire movie.

So, what seemed as if it might have been a worthwhile, visceral investigation of the way class and privilege operate in 21st century Britain ends up being an ugly, uninteresting, vicious mess. Its plot begins as muddy and ends as being ridiculous to the point of insult, so insulting, in fact, that I shan't bother to offer any further comment on it. Its sense of place is much weaker than it ought to be, bearing in mind that the film's title is eponymous with it, and its sense of time is utterly arbitrary (was it set around 2006 just so the director got to include her favourite tunes? I can't think of any other reason). Thus, the overall effect of the film is to inspire very little outside of boredom and jaded disgust.

4/10 (3 points for Rosamund and 1 for the pretty colours and sets)

An Elephant Sitting Still (2018)

Where's the counter-narrative?

[5/10 · 15 October 2023]

Let's start by noting the aspects of this film which are worthy of positive comment: clearly a disciple of Béla Tarr's approach to camera movement, director, Hu Bo, takes his time to glide alongside his characters using highly-mobile digital shots to capture kinetic sequences, which, at their best, offer immersion and engagement. The camera not cutting forces the viewer to keep looking. There is no respite, you are visually pulled into Bo's world and forced to bear witness to what it has to offer.

The highly saturated colour-palette also serves to aid in establishing the mood. Scenes are replete with pastel greys and washed-out blues. The absence of colour also becomes a notable feature as characters' shadows are often used to foreground scenes. As well as adding to the film's melancholy ambience, there is a certain intrigue created in such use of hue and framing. The film's acting is also a strong point. The main characters are all committed to their roles and convincingly exude vulnerability, loneliness and suffering.

The issue with the film, however, is its lack of narrative nuance or any form of emotional balance. It is highly unlikely that, in viewing a day in the life of a small group of individuals, we would bear witness to: 2 suicides, one accidental murder, a death via natural causes, a shooting, a vicious baseball bat attack, the kidnapping of a young girl and the mauling of a little dog. Yet, in this 4-hour misery-fest, the audience is treated to just that alongside various verbal eviscerations and expressions of toxic indifference to any form of human suffering. The film is clearly the product of an individual who was in a severely depressive state, as such, it lacks emotional range,only having the capacity to represent numbness and antipathy.

Yet the state of mind of the individual who served as the singular director, writer and editor of the film is not the only factor that places limitations on this piece. This being his first feature film, it appears that Bo had not yet developed the discipline to even attempt to stray outside of his own background in order to attempt to represent something of the world that did not pertain to his own direct experience. Just for the sake of attempting to represent something realistic about human society more generally, the film would have benefited from some sort of inclusion of the reasons why most people don't choose to jump out of windows or bash people over the head with baseball bats. A parent showing a glimmer of affection for their child, for example, a couple who had anything like requited romantic feelings, or perhaps just one person giving another person a hug once in a while would have provided at least something of a counterbalance to the anger and hatred on display. But there are no such moments (besides a grandparent making the questionable decision to take his granddaughter on a one-way trip without her parents' knowledge that is). This is because the film has no interest in what makes people want to live, its only focus is on why one would wish they hadn't been fated to exist in the first place.

In its self-limited immaturity, the film is reminiscent of Paul Thomas Anderson's "Magnolia": a film which was, essentially, a big, unrestrained exhibition of inner-turmoil: an indulgent, unfiltered distillation of intense subjectivity. However, while Anderson's film represented a childish crusade of redemption, Bo's film is a choral bleating of hopelessness.

The above may seem rather insensitive bearing in mind Bo's tragic suicide after the making of the film, but I feel that subjecting oneself to the entire run-time of the movie entitles one to at least provide their own honest reflections. So allow me to conclude that this is a film which possesses intriguing technique and shows the director had promise had he wished to live in order to realise it. However, its narrative and tone is far too stuck in its own head to provide a meaningful statement on a world beyond the psychological narrowness of its creator and is, thus, a fundamentally limited and mawkishly mournful effort. It is probably worth noting, however, that if you are going into this film because you want to see what unmitigated depression looks like in cinematic form, you will be fully satisfied.

The Whale (2022)

High in tastelessness, low in gravitas

[6/10 · 7 February 2023]

The Whale (2022) - Darren Aronofsky: A Review

There was a time when Aronofsky looked to be one of the most promising directors in American cinema. His pulsating black-and-white low-budget "Pi" was remarkable in its intensity, pacing and chaotic energy. Then came the modern classic "Requiem for a Dream" in which Aronofsky somehow injected even more chaos and drama, this time coupled with stellar performances by Jennifer Connelly and Ellen Burnstyn, alongside a hypnotic, pulverising soundtrack and a general atmosphere of unrelenting anguish to unsettle the nerves of the most sanguine viewer. Since then the director has mostly floundered; yes, there have been bright sparks from time-to-time: "The Wrestler" was a worthy character study of a flawed individual, brought to life wonderfully by Mickey Rourke, while "Black Swan" provided a similar canvass for Natalie Portman to give what is quite possibly a career-best performance but at no point has the director fully capitalised on the genius that seemed inherent within his film-making almost a quarter of a century ago now.

Ironically, as the director has grown older, his films seem to have become more adolescent. In 2017 we got the utterly ridiculous "Mother!" and now, finally moving onto the subject of this review, we are presented with the only slightly less ridiculous "The Whale": a film about a morbidly obese man who is on the point of a fatal heart attack. Based on the play by Samuel D Hunter, this film almost certainly has nothing to say, but that doesn't stop it from indulgently pontificating on religion, sexuality, grief and the importance of family. Allow me to observe here that when a dramatist has no particular insight on any topic, it is a common trick for him to distract the viewer from noticing this by spreading his themes as widely as possible. One should be under no illusion that any profundity is occurring in this film and there are a number of clues to suggest this.

Firstly, none of the characters' motivations are properly thought out. We have a central character, Charlie (played by Brendan Fraser), who is homosexual (the importance of this will become apparent later) and apparently suicidal . He has developed a co-dependent friendship with the fiercely protective Liz (Hong Chau). Liz is depicted as finding value in the dependence that Charlie has on her, so much so that she attempts to prevent her friend from reconnecting with his daughter lest her role in his life be usurped. Yet, so desperate is she to maintain his friendship that she continues to feed him fried chicken and brings him highly-unhealthy snacks, all the while being acutely aware of how close this food is to killing him. It is worth noting here that Liz is also a nurse, something which might lead one to believe that her instinct would be to avoid perpetuating life-shortening habits vis-a-vis her closest friends.

Then there is Charlie's daughter, Ellie, from whom he has been estranged for almost a decade. He calls her after he realises the perilousness of his health and she comes to visit him immediately. She is standoffish and hostile but it is made clear to her that there will be a financial and possibly an educational advantage in associating with him. At times it seems as if she is motivated purely by self-interest, at other times she appears driven by motiveless malignity and then, less plausibly perhaps, she appears to be doing acts of great kindness in a roundabout and easily misinterpreted fashion. By the end of the film, all three of these interpretations could easily be true and it comes across as if neither the writer nor the director decided what Ellie's motivations actually were. You could call this artistic ambiguity, I call it a lack of interest in character development. After all, if a character is not particularly defined in any substantial way then they can behave as the writer wishes them to in order to serve the preconceived plot. The character of Ellie does this as does the character of Liz as does, most importantly, the character of Charlie himself.

Taking a closer look at Charlie we see a kind, gentle almost childlike individual. He is suffering from grief, hence his extreme comfort eating, but, as an English teacher by profession, he is still capable of being moved by beautiful, honest writing. This in and of itself appears to possess the whiff of something fay but I shall just about allow it to pass. The main issue with Charlie's characterisation is that he is far too kind, gentle and caring to ever be capable of the emotional and physical abandonment of which his character is purportedly responsible. All of the invective and hostility that Charlie receives at the hands of his estranged family in the film is utterly justified by Charlie's past actions and yet Fraser's angelic performance provides not even a scintilla of evidence of the callousness he has previously been responsible for. At one point in the film, his ex-wife says that she is aware that Charlie was only using her to have a child. The audience is unsure whether to interpret this as bitterness or honesty and, once again, I don't think either the writer or director cared to decide themselves in which category the comment belonged. However, its truth would make perfect sense since Charlie is very clearly represented as being gay in the film, right from the very first scene in fact. Yet how could such a kind, genuine man who is so powerfully moved by honesty be capable of such cynical deception? It does not fit with the character that is being projected in any conceivable way.

Focusing on the character of Charlie takes me back to my observations regarding the adolescent nature of Aronofsky's more recent cinematic fare. Too much of this film includes "fat jokes", including the film's title itself. Oh, of course, this can easily be denied: it's a reference to "Moby Dick", it's a reference to the Biblical story of Noah (there's another Aronofsky association by the way). It is also, naturally, a reference to the protagonist's size. There is also too much prurient fascination with the physical degradation associated with being morbidly obese. Virtually nothing is left to the audience's imagination in terms of Charlie's impaired physicality. This doesn't stop with his outward appearance but continues to the unfortunate condition of the protagonist's heart, something which is monitored and tracked in anxiety-inducing detail throughout the film.

The film is, quite simply, in poor taste and severely lacking in artistic merit in terms of its writing, its exposition of its themes and its characterisation; however, it would be extremely disingenuous of me to claim that I found no merit in the film at all. The acting is impeccable throughout. Give Aronofsky his due, like Stanley Kubrick, he excels in eliciting powerful, tortured performances from his cast. Fraser has rightly received many plaudits for his performance, the humanity he is able to exude is heart-warming and, at times, deeply moving but he is also ably supported by Sadie Sink, Ty Simpkins, Samantha Morton and, especially, Hong Chau as his erstwhile yet viperishly domineering side-kick. Bearing in mind that the characterisations are so poorly thought out, it is even more impressive that the actors are able to deliver such impressive work. They succeed by playing scenes as much as by playing characters, the actors being malleable and flexible enough to fully deliver to the scenes' requirements without ever appearing false in their performances.

The soundtrack is also beautiful and hauntingly atmospheric. If there is so much that is tasteless in the writing and presentation of the film, the music is the exact opposite. Rob Simonsen's tones elevate the film and provide it with an otherwise unearned dignity and grace. And then there are the visual flourishes of which Aronofsky is always immensely capable. The film's use of light in key scenes and the way in which Aronofsky is able to visually invigorate what is essentially a one-set film is commendable and adds value to the experience.

Due to the power of individual scenes, you may well leave this film quite moved by what you've watched but, if you are critical by nature and you are inclined to do the maths, you will be hard-pressed not to realise that this film does not add up. Like a number of Aronofsky's recent efforts, it's a film whose main goal is to grab you by the jugular and, in its insistence on achieving this, it is far more trivial than it had any need to be.

Two for the Road (1967)

Romance portrayed in all of its fragility and splendour

[10/10 · 28 August 2022]

You haven't seen romance portrayed onscreen in all of its fragility and splendour until you have watched this film. It concerns Joanna (Audrey Hepburn) and Mark (Albert Finney) and shows the developments in their relationship across 10 years of marriage. The scenes are overlapping and interlocking, and jump in a non-linear fashion. At the most unexpected of moments we are exposed to exhilarating highs and are then, just as quickly, thrust into the most despairing of lows as the couple go on their literal and metaphorical journeys around France. Amusing and amusingly tedious supporting characters are at times interwoven into the proceedings, but this film is all about Mark and Joanna, their connection, and the suffering and joy that that connection brings.

As is often the case with the greatest films, the plot here is not central to the narrative. The significance of the events in the film is demonstrated through the way in which each character is touched by them. Joanna and Mark catching sunburn, smuggling food into an exclusive hotel, witnessing an argument in a French bistro and sleeping overnight in a concrete drainage pipe are possible highlights just because of the meaning they are imbued with in the context of Joanna and Mark's relationship. However, one of the truly special aspects of this movie is the fact that each moment of each scene has the potential to resonate. Each scene is revealing the essence of each character's connection to the other. In fact, one could easily argue the central character in this film is neither Joanna nor Mark, rather it's the relationship that exists between the two.

Stylistically, the film draws on French New Wave cinema by using editing as a central aesthetic feature. However, the results of this are more effective than in any French New Wave film I've seen and certainly than in any classic French New Wave influenced Hollywood feature of the '60s (including the likes of Bonnie & Clyde, The Wild Bunch, Easy Rider, and so on). The reason for this is that the editing is not just an aesthetic, it's a fundamental story-telling device. The cutting allows for key developments in the narrative and heightens the impact of crucial scenes. The greatest example of this is after Joanna and Mark's first argument. Joanna is running away from Mark screaming "Nooooo", the physical distance between the two becoming greater and greater, but, just at the right moment, Mark is able to produce the words that Joanna has been longing to hear, to which her response is "Yeeeeeees": then, cut. The physical distance has immediately disappeared, Joanna is now back in Mark's arms. One not paying full attention could easily write this off as an eye-catching visual trick, missing the entire point of the scene. What we witness on the screen is exactly how that moment would have felt to Joanna and Mark: the immediate dissipation of the distance, the power of the right words to instantaneously set their relationship back on course. We are witnessing the events in the way that Joanna and Mark felt them.

Aside from containing film editing which perhaps surpasses all films that have come before or since, the movie also has pitch-perfect casting in what has to be Audrey Hepburn's greatest performance, matched by an utterly brilliant Albert Finney. The chemistry between these two actors is heart-breaking. Never has Hepburn shown such bitterness and insecurity to go along with the charm, playfulness and elegance her screen persona is much more commonly known for. Ironically, the fact that Hepburn is able to channel the darker elements of her persona actually makes the lighter aspects more magical in their contrast. While Finney's rugged, boyish charm is also dissected and exposed at times showing his pettiness and petulance and even moments verging on the domineering. Neither actor is afraid to go as far as the character requires and the bravery and raw technical brilliance of Hepburn and Finney's performances are a marvel to behold.

Now to the writing: precocious talent Frederic Raphael delivers a script which manages to be laugh-out-loud funny on occasion and tear-jerkingly tender on others. There is a slickness to his dialogue which never becomes too self-admiring, relying on inflection, emphasis and repetition in order to eke out both comedic and dramatic potential. In a film in which the plot is a secondary consideration, the writing (alongside the acting, and the film's visual prowess) is able to take centre stage.

If one were to think that all of the film's merits had been covered thus far, one would be incorrect as I have not yet even mentioned Henry Mancini's score. It is simply exquisite. It is at times seductive, nostalgic, sombre and even quirky and it contributes excellently to establishing the shifting, immersive atmosphere of the film. Mancini regards it as his greatest work and who am I to disagree?

Final commendations must go to the man standing at the helm for pulling all of this together. Stanley Donen is often remembered for his musicals, most particularly Singin' in the Rain, but this film is, in my view, his greatest work. This makes it rather difficult to understand why the film does not garner more attention in wider critical circles. Personally, I've now recently watched the film on three separate occasions and I am simply awe-struck by its originality, honesty, energy and cinematic mastery every time I view it. It is a clear influence on all of the more off-beat, intelligent romantic comedies that have come in its wake, starting from pretty much every film Woody Allen made in the genre released from Annie Hall onwards and also including Linklater's wonderful "Before" trilogy (Sunset, Sunrise and Midnight). The influence of this film's use of editing and overlapping narratives can also be seen in films such as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Inception and, taken to an even greater extreme, this year's release: Everything, Everywhere All at Once. This film is so impactful because of its sheer ability to use artifice to establish a deep and pure authenticity. For this reason alone, it is easily among the greatest films I have ever seen.

My Fair Lady (1964)

A classic makeover tale which continues to enthrall

[10/10 · 25 August 2022]

My Fair Lady is the luminous film adaptation of the musical theatre adaptation of the original play by George Bernhard Shaw. It centres around two characters. The first is Eliza Doolittle (Audrey Hepburn), a working-class flower girl with a grubby appearance, a highly hysterical manner and an ear-bleedingly ghastly cockney accent. The second is Professor Henry Higgins (Rex Harrison), an arrogant, hard-hearted language scholar who finds anything other than heightened received pronunciation an offence to the English tongue. In a moment of hubris, Higgins makes a bet with a fellow professor that he can convince the most esteemed members of society that Eliza is in fact a lady of the highest breeding all by teaching her how to speak proper---ly. Upon hearing Higgins' boast, Eliza gladly volunteers to be a guinea pig to this scheme and thus the challenge is set: Higgins must get to work quickly in order to convert his cockney protege into a lady.

Yet, in their newly established relationship, there are unforeseen obstacles which go far beyond just teaching Eliza elocution. Firstly, there is Eliza's father, Alfred (Stanley Holloway), who feels entitled to recompense seeing that his daughter has been spirited away by the professor. Another more serious obstacle relates to the development of feelings between the eccentric Eliza and the cold, logical Higgins. It seems this odd couple relationship may have the potential to extend beyond teacher and pupil, and this development threatens to set both individuals on a path neither could ever have predicted.

Very much deserving of its status as one of the great musicals of the 20th century, My Fair Lady is an enthralling and highly engaging cinematic experience. One of the film's chief strengths is its plot. As an ugly-duckling tale in which an overlooked woman blossoms into a fully-fledged lady it provides fascination in its focus on transformation. This transformation is at times shown in painstaking detail, most notably when Higgins has Eliza constantly repeating her phonemes with the use of techniques such as filling her mouth with marbles and having her speak in front of an exposed flame. In scenes such as this, the extent of the challenge that Higgins has taken on becomes apparent and his exasperation slowly develops into pure exhaustion, feelings, of course, which are more than matched by poor Eliza. The latter point is a key detail, as the film is not designed as a celebration of Higgins and his ability to transform Eliza, it is, rather, a critique of a person, in the character of Higgins, and a society which is unable to see Eliza's worth until she starts to sound and behave the way that they do. Eliza is so keen to take Higgins up on his offer because she sees it as a way out of the drudgery society would otherwise have her consigned to. Thus there is an element of complexity in the plot which fleshes out what could otherwise easily be interpreted as a very conservative and potentially offensive message.

Another strength the film possesses is evidenced in its array of simply wonderful songs written by Frederick Loewe and André Previn. This includes standout classics such as "Wouldn't It Be Lovely" and "I Could've Danced All Night", along with the hilarious "With A Little Bit Of Luck" and the timeless "On The Street Where You Live". The music abounds with humour, joy and romance and, rather than operating as a drag on the film's pacing, the numbers inject the film with sumptuous energy.

The set design is an aspect of the film which also works particularly well. Unlike some classic Hollywood musicals, it is restrained and deliberately stagey. There's very little focus on spectacle as dance numbers centre much more on physical character work and physical comedy as opposed to choreographed largesse. This helps to maintain a consistent mood and tone to the film and provides for a more intimate experience. This is particularly the case for the scenes which take place in Higgins' abode, of which there are many. My Fair Lady is every inch a musical but its modus operandum is not escapism, it is comedy.

Turning to the comedy then, so much of what works on this level comes from the performances. Most notably Audrey Hepburn and Stanley Holloway, who has a relatively small but highly impactful role. Hepburn revels in playing completely against type as a screeching, highly-strung oddball, desperately in need of reform if Higgins is to win his bet. Typically, Hepburn would usually play roles which were closer to the "straight woman" in her comedic performances in films such as Funny Face and Love in the Afternoon, but here she fully embraces the largeness and ebullience of her character and plays her quite exceptionally. Hepburn reaches the apotheosis of her skill for comedic acting during a scene set at the Ascot horse race. It represents something of a crossroads moment in Eliza's transformation and, for my money, provides one of the most hilarious moments in cinematic history. The one criticism that was labelled at Hepburn in this film was that she didn't do her own singing. This is a shame, especially as her voice was certainly much better than her co-star's, who famously couldn't sing a note and therefore talked his way through his musical numbers. Marnie Nixon (the woman who would famously dub around 90% of Hepburn's singing) absolutely had the classically trained voice but I think the film would've benefited from a less perfect yet more authentic singing voice *ahem, Hepburn's*. Nonetheless, Hepburn is responsible for so much undeniable quality in the performance that it seems churlish and, ultimately, nit-picking to focus on a dubbing decision that was taken out of her hands.

As to Holloway, he shines in every moment that he is on the screen. Playing the epitome of the lovable rogue archetype, his character is unashamedly venal and idle, in fact, he venerates his personal faults to the point of philosophic profundity. Holloway's physical mannerisms and off-the-cuff delivery also add touches of brilliance to a truly remarkable character display. All the other cast members put in stellar efforts too. Harrison has understandably become synonymous with his role as Henry Higgins as he invests his character with conviction, energy and just the right level of callousness, and Wilfrid Hyde-White balances Harrison's harshness with a compassionate, avuncular tenderness that just about allows Eliza to survive her professor's training.

All in all, this is a brilliant piece of film making which still maintains its full capacity to entertain almost 60 years after its release. Its subject matter may be dated and its fundamental premise questionable to some but its story still resonates. After all, from classic stories such as Cinderella and The Ugly Duckling to reality TV shows such as America's Next Top Model and Queer Eye, makeover stories have been, and will continue to be, told for time immemorial, and My Fair Lady is certainly among the best of them.

Charade (1963)

The first and the very best screwball thriller

[10/10 · 22 August 2022]

Regina Lampert (Audrey Hepburn) is on holiday in the Alps and she is contemplating divorce from her husband, Charles. She has grown weary of his secretive ways and has come to the realisation that she is no longer in love with him. During her trip, she encounters Peter Joshua (Cary Grant) and takes an instant liking to him, although it is initially unclear how mutual Peter's feelings are.

On Regina's return to Paris, she discovers that her husband has been murdered. Not only that, a group of shady war veterans, who first appear at her husband's funeral, soon turn their attentions to Regina. They claim that she has inherited a large fortune which belongs to them and use a range of intimidation tactics, including the threat of violence and worse, if they do not get their money back. However, despite undergoing a desperate search, Regina is unable to find any trace of this money in any of her late husband's accounts.

Regina also finds herself contacted by a Secret Service Agent (Walter Matthau), who is just as certain that her husband possessed the money as the intimidating war veterans seem to be. Regina is told that it is imperative the money is found as it belongs to the American government. Amidst all of this, Peter Joshua reappears and at first seems to be the one person who is more interested in Regina than her phantom fortune. But, as events evolve, Peter Joshua's real intentions, and even his real name, begin to come under much greater scrutiny.

As one can see, the plot of Charade is exceptionally intricate and part of the intrigue of the film is in being drawn into what appears to be an impossible conundrum. The film has been described as being the best Hitchcock film that Hitchcock never directed, and there are moving parts galore, including shifting identities and changing allegiances, as well as an almighty MacGuffin which drives the whole plot along. As a result, most audience members will be left largely confounded by the evolution of the film's events. But, rest assured, all of the mysteries will be resolved and some of the resolutions will even make sense...

Yet the above is only one layer of what the film has to offer. Charade also has wonderfully memorable performances by the two leads, both of whom have so much natural charisma, charm and screen chemistry that the film almost explodes through the effervescence of their pairing. Hepburn and Grant simply belong on the screen together. In fact, their interactions are so perfect that the 25-year age gap simply melts into the background. Their cat and mouse relationship shows each character to be the absolute equal to the other in terms of instinct, energy and resourcefulness. Hepburn and Grant are also wonderfully assisted by a crackling screenplay from Peter Stone. For instance, during a romantic boat ride along the River Seine, Peter says to a romantically charged Regina: "When you come on, you come on!" To which Regina replies: "Well, come on!"

And here we have yet another layer to Charade. Despite ostensibly being a heavily plotted thriller, at times it also sparkles with the wit and madcap charm of a screwball comedy. Note the juxtaposition between the opening scene of the film, in which we see a dead man being thrown off a train, and the very next scene which features the following dialogue between Regina and her female friend: Friend: "But, I don't understand; why do you want a divorce?" Regina: "Because I don't love him and he obviously doesn't love me." Friend: "That's no reason to get a divorce, with a rich husband and this year's clothes, you won't find it difficult to make some new friends." Regina: "Look, I admit I came to Paris to escape American provincial, but that doesn't mean that I'm ready for French traditional..." The patter is so outrageously light-hearted and deliciously mischievous that you wonder what on earth any of this could have to do with a plot involving a murder. Yet, therein lies the genius of this film: it is the first ever screwball thriller. It's both irreverent, hilarious and wonderfully over-the-top while being suspenseful, gripping and, at times, uncomfortably intense.

One particular scene demonstrates the above rather well. It places Regina and Peter in a restaurant in which a game has commenced involving the passing of an orange down a line of customers. The goal is to pass the orange along without using one's hands. Cary Grant performs some utterly exceptional physical comedy during the scene, complete with magnificently-timed body-contorting reactions and impossibly funny facial expressions and the entire mood of the piece is one of mirth and high-level entertainment. This is then followed by Regina being called to a phone booth in which she is threatened by an extremely sinister looking James Coburn. He physically backs Regina into the booth creating a menacing sense of claustrophobia before proceeding to flick lighted matches at her person knowing she has no means of escape. Hepburn's desperate, wide-eyed, terror-stricken reaction is genuinely difficult to watch.

How the film manages to constantly balance such extreme contrasts can only truly be explained by, firstly, its excellently controlled and highly unique pacing. It works in a similar way as a trip to a fun fair might do in which there are regular shifts in energy, tempo and mood: from the roller coaster to the Big Wheel; from the whirling Waltzers to a more sedate ride on a Carousel. Part of the joy of the event as a whole comes in the very variety of sensations and experiences that such contrasts provide. Such is the case with this film. Yet, alongside this, what remains throughout is the sense of intricate and enthralling spectacle. This provides an overall unity to the piece which avoids what could easily have been a collection of disparate scenes in the hands of a less skilled director than Stanley Donen.

The other reason the film works has to come back to the sheer excellence of both Hepburn and Grant. Their performances are so engrossing that they are able to sell their audience pretty much any plot theme of their choosing, ranging from romance, to comedy, to cold-blooded murder. The joy the audience may take in being manipulated by the film's constantly contorting plot is replicated in the way Peter charmingly manipulates Regina with numerous cock and bull stories throughout the film's run time, and also in the way Regina toys with Peter in order to break through his thinly constructed armour while he futilely attempts to resist her charms.

The very title "Charade" is a glaring clue to the audience that this film is an experience which is utterly eccentric and unabashedly silly, and, yet, it is actually a work of pure brilliance. It is a near magnum opus for both Hepburn and Donen. And, perhaps even more importantly, it is one-hundred-and-fifty-three minutes of highly immersive, completely original, tension-charged fun.

Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)

The Ferrero Rocher of romantic comedies

[8/10 · 21 August 2022]

The most iconic role of Audrey Hepburn's career has to be her performance as Holly Golightly in one of the defining pop cultural films of the '60s. Holly is a high-class, highly disorganised and somewhat quixotic call girl, who makes an acquaintance with Paul (George Peppard), her new neighbour and a new resident in New York. Holly has dreams of a future of riches and a life of luxury. In the early hours of the morning, she is often found drinking coffee and munching on a croissant while gazing through the inviting windows of Tiffany's, a designer store in which she sees the promise of a life of glamour and escapism.

Paul is a kept man and a failing writer. He is passively fighting for meaning and self-respect. The extremely extroverted Holly takes a liking to the somewhat more introverted Paul and what began as an acquaintance shows the promise of becoming something more. But Holly does not like becoming attached to people or places, and anything more than a fleeting romance with her neighbour threatens to introduce a level of commitment to her life that she has thus far done her utmost to avoid.

Breakfast At Tiffany's is the Ferrero Rocher of romantic comedies: it is confectionery but it is confectionery of the highest quality. This was to the chagrin of the writer of the original novella, Truman Capote, on whose work the film is based. He wanted a more sexual, less elegant Holly (Marilyn Monroe was his preferred choice). He also disliked the romantic developments between Holly and Paul as it diluted the book's original themes in which the male lead was essentially homosexual. However, despite the film clearly being a sanitised version of Capote's story, it does hang together rather well.

The most successful element of the film is, ironically, Hepburn's portrayal of Holly, which delivers elegance and charm in abundance. In the film, Holly comes across less as a call girl and more as a big city socialite trying to bag an extremely rich man so that her desire for the good life may be eternally satisfied. Holly is not completely defined by such superficial desires, however, she is confused and misunderstood, most significantly by herself. She creates personas, even changing her name and accent in order to separate herself from the past and start anew. She avoids attachment as a way of protecting herself against the vicissitudes of circumstance; in so doing, she prevents herself from finding true happiness. Hepburn has said that she struggled with the role of Holly because of the fact that the character was such an extrovert, and one can see a new energy emerge in Hepburn's performance. She perfectly encapsulates the verbosity and sheer size of personality that the character Holly possesses. Gone is the demur, humble Hepburn persona, and in steps the loquacious, unpredictable, larger-than-life personality which defines the film. What remains consistent about Hepburn's performance in comparison to her previous work, however, is that she maintains the effortless charisma that defines her as an actress.

George Peppard's Paul, on the other hand, is about as a dull as a leading man can get. He's attractive enough but doesn't have enough agency to be a truly interesting character. This is an issue with the way his character is written for the screen and perhaps also speaks to Peppard's limitations as an actor; he just doesn't exude enough of anything to grab the audience's attention and often comes across as sulky and, quite frankly, anodyne. It therefore becomes puzzling as to how he has been able to engage the affections of his much more fascinating neighbour.

The comedic moments in the film are hit and miss. There are wonderfully entertaining scenes such as Holly and Paul's afternoon of doing things they've never done before during which they wander the streets of New York, joyously pulling pranks and engaging in petty theft. There are also painful misfires such as the entirety of Mickey Rooney's disgracefully over-the-top performance in yellowface as Mr Yunioshi.

In terms of drama, the film certainly generates investment as a quasi character study of its central protagonist, Holly. But the energy of Hepburn's performance is rarely matched by the film's plot, which eventually provides an all-too-easy conclusion for what is a complex performance.

Yet the film does succeed as a highly enjoyable slice of escapist romance. It features Hepburn in her iconic black dress complete with cigarette holder and pearl necklace. It provides Hepburn's first teaming with musical composer Henry Mancini, a relationship which would go on to be wonderfully productive and, in this film, spawned the tender classic Moon River (sung by Hepburn herself no less). And it is, overall, a rather heart-warming film in its own charming little way. It might lack bite but for those with a cinematic sweet-tooth, you won't find much that satisfies your appetite better than this.

Roman Holiday (1953)

Full of fun and frivolity but wafer-thin in depth

[8/10 · 20 August 2022]

The film which is famous for introducing the world to Audrey Hepburn is a curious mixture of screwball and broader romantic comedy. Hepburn plays European royalty in the form of Princess Ann; a young woman who is stifled by the pomp and routine associated with her role. Therefore, in a fit of frustration and desperation, she takes advantage of an opportunity for temporary escape, just so that she can have a taste of "normal life".

Gregory Peck, on the other hand, plays newspaper man Joe Bradley. He's fallen on hard times both financially and professionally and needs a big story to raise his standing in the eyes of his employer. As Joe is making his way home following a long night of gambling, he discovers a seemingly drunk young woman helplessly wandering the streets. Seeing that she is all alone, he resentfully assumes responsibility for her at first. But, eventually, he realises who this young woman is and that the story he'd been looking for may well have just fallen into his lap.

A remake of sorts of the depression-era film It Happened One Night (1934), Roman Holiday retains elements of the odd-couple dynamic which sees a royal princess joined through circumstance to working man, Joe Bradley. Yet Hepburn's Princess Ann is much less spiky than Claudette Colbert's Ellie Andrews and Bradley is never close to being as domineering as Clark Gable's Peter Warne; as a result, the developing romance between the leads in this film is far smoother than it was in the original picture, which leads to a slight lowering of the stakes and a definite lowering of romantic tension. Nonetheless, Hepburn and Peck do make a charming couplet.

It should also be noted that this film has the distinction of being one of the few major 1950s Hollywood productions to be shot entirely on location in a foreign country, and it makes the most of its surroundings. It moves along at a leisurely pace and delights in the excitement and novelty of Princess Ann's care-free jaunt through Rome. Tourist hot spots are highlighted, most memorably the Bocca della Verità, and space is provided for comical interactions to occur between both the leads and a number of minor native Italian supporting cast members, most of whom speak very limited English. This interplay provides the opportunity for comedy to be generated as much through physical gesture as it does dialogue. The scene in which a flower seller is trying to pedal his wares to Princess Ann being a particularly notable example.

Hepburn is at her most whimsical and delightful as Princess Ann, a role which would set something of a blueprint for her Hollywood career. The combination of her youthful, classically beautiful looks, her regal accent and bearing and, just as crucially, her overt appreciation for mild mischief and gaiety make her both a figure of admiration as well as thoroughly relatable. This may well point to the fundamental juxtaposition which made Hepburn such a unique star, she was simultaneously attainable and unattainable, both abstraction and reality. It seems a stretch that someone as sweet, attractive, humorous and good-natured as the persona Hepburn created in this film could truly exist, yet, watching her perform, her presence certainly possesses a high degree of authenticity.

The script is well-written with some excellent use of repetition and verbal call-backs. This alongside the physical comedy provides for a thoroughly entertaining experience. The issue with the film; however, is that everything comes together a little too perfectly. It is pure, unadulterated escapism, but escapism through the mostly quotidian. There is certainly charm in this and, even at times hilarity (Hepburn's drunk acting in the early scenes of the film are simply brilliant), but the film never quite delivers on its early promise in which a little more depth was suggested.

To elaborate, around 10 minutes into the film, we witness an inner-glimpse into Princess Ann's life in which she is experiencing palpable emotional suffocation. She initially sarcastically and then increasingly disdainfully utters her verbal preparations for her meetings with a series of foreign dignitaries alternating between the reponses of "Thank you" and "No thank you" like some sort of demented royal parrot. Each time she repeats her response, there is an increase in panic and disgust culminating in a disturbing fit of hysteria. In this one scene, one can imagine how robotic and stifling Princess Ann's life must be. She is a free spirit, a lover of spontaneity and authenticity trapped in the life of pageantry and fancily costumed public relations. Alas, after this moment, the film becomes much more light-hearted, which makes the whole thing rather more fun, but also rather less consequential.

Love in the Afternoon (1957)

An otherwise uneven film elevated by a majestic performance

[8/10 · 18 August 2022]

An investigation is being conducted into a possible affair between American playboy Frank Flannagan (Gary Cooper) and the wife of an international businessman (Lise Bourdin). The man responsible for this investigation is Claude Chevasse (Maurice Chevalier), a private investigator who is operating at the behest of a particularly nervous client named Monsieur X (John McGiver). Claude's report all but confirms his client's worst fears about his wife's infidelity. In response, Monsieur X resolves to shoot Flannagan at the earliest opportunity.

Fortunately for Flannagan, Claude's daughter, Ariane (Audrey Hepburn), overhears Monsieur X's plans. Thus she resolves to prevent the murder from coming to pass. Her intervention proves to be successful but now she herself has become acquainted with Flannagan. Despite knowing just how terrible his reputation is, Ariane ends up being drawn into a romance of her own with the shameless, ageing bachellor. If her father were to find out about this, he would surely disapprove. Therefore, to avoid discovery, Ariane conducts her affair with Flannagan only in the afternoons. Both lovers profess to prefer short romances and, ostensibly, neither has any intention of actually falling in love. But affairs of the heart are rarely so clear cut, and this affair proves to be no exception.

In many ways, Love in the Afternoon ought to be regarded as a misfire of a movie. It begins with an overly-extended, twee narration, which immediately seems out-of-step with the seediness of the affair-centred subject matter. These jarring tonal shifts continue to occur throughout the film and often lead to bizarrely surreal scenes, such as a gypsy band playing violins in a sauna, a scene which was clearly intended to be off-beat comedy but just comes across as quirkily fatuous cinematic window-dressing.

There is also the fact that characters who are initially introduced with the aura of relevance disappear and then re-emerge almost at random. Alongside this, the logic of characters' actions constantly operates on shaky ground. For example, when Monsieur X resolves to shoot Flannagan, it is unfathomable as to why Claude would not attempt to alert the authorities. When Ariane does alert the authorities, she does so in the most unconvincing of manners, all just so she is compelled to visit Flannagan herself in order that the plot can allow for their improbable initial meeting. On top of this, Claude is represented as being a savvy, accomplished investigator, yet he never comes close to finding out about his daughter's affair until the moment Flannagan literally walks into his office. This is simply evidence of a clunky plot struggling in key moments to cohere.

Then there is the proverbial elephant in the room; namely,the bleary-eyed, saggy-faced, balding Gary Cooper playing the romantic lead opposite the pristinely beautiful Audrey Hepburn. If the description of Cooper seems overly harsh here, it is only because the contrast between he and Hepburn is so unflattering. I challenge anyone to find a film in which Hepburn looked more pure, innocent, enchanting and luminous than she does in this film. I also challenge anyone to find a film made before this movie's release in which Cooper looks even slightly as haggard as he does in this. Billy Wilder, the film's director, is quoted as saying that, after Cooper was cast for the role, he aged overnight. This is not fortuitous for the film as it means that the audience is going to need a lot of convincing that someone as stunning and charming as Hepburn would fall for someone who is not only a superficial philanderer but a physically washed up superficial philanderer to boot.

And yet, all of the above notwithstanding, the film somehow enchants. This is partly because of the dreamlike atmosphere created by the constant use of diegetic music. This is evidenced in Ariane's regular playing of the cello (she is a music student) Flannagan's seemingly omnipresent gypsy band, both Ariane and Claude's penchant for regular whistling and even an extended scene in which the introduction to Tristan und Isolde is playing. Then there is the heart-warming and highly convincing relationship that exists between Ariane and her father. Hepburn and Chevalier play off each other wonderfully and have a genuine father-daughter rapport. In spite of looking a little worse for wear, it should also be noted that Cooper's performance in this film is well-observed and, although he undoubtedly behaves badly, his Flannagan still possesses a certain winning charm.

The true centrepiece of this film, however, has to be Hepburn. Not only does she imbue the film with her natural beauty, she exudes a naivety, vulnerability and consistency in her performance which elevates what should be a hodge-podge of a film into something of an immersive, romantic tale of redemption. Hepburn is utterly convincing as a young woman who has fallen in love at first sight and the final scene, in which it seems that she has lost the object of her affection forever, would belong in the annals of Casablanca-esque romantic remembrance if the film as a whole had possessed anything like the quality of Hepburn's acting.

There are a number of examples one could cite of excellent performances in questionable films, but rarely is the innate quality of a film so thoroughly elevated by the performance of one of its central actors. This film, I contend, is an instance of this. Love in the Afternoon only succeeds in being mildly amusing but it becomes devastatingly romantic simply because Hepburn is so convincing as the embodiment of a feminine romantic ideal. She is the male redeemer, the constant lover, the one who can see a man's deeper capacity for goodness despite the clear flaws existing on the exterior. She is a fantasy, perhaps even a somewhat misogynistic fantasy, but, in Hepburn's portrayal, she is fantasy made flesh. She performs her role with such yearning intensity that one can not help but be enthralled by the sheer depth of her capacity for romance. That is quite an asset for an otherwise uneven film to possess.

How to Steal a Million (1966)

Comedic chemistry and heist-based tension with a large helping of cutting-edge couture

[8/10 · 14 August 2022]

Charles Bonnet (Hugh Griffith) is a forger of classic works of art who has been able to make a minor fortune from his dedication to his duplicity, while his daughter, Nicole (Audrey Hepburn), is concerned about the risk her father is taking. New methods of forgery detection are emerging all the time and she knows that the penalty for the discovery of the truth would be severe. Her worries turn out to be well-founded as, during the course of a sale, her father is advised that he must insure an item which is currently on display at a public museum, the value of which is one million dollars. As part of the terms of the insurance, the item will be forensically studied in order to fully establish its veracity. Such a procedure will surely expose Charles once and for all.

Alongside these events, a mysterious man named Simon (Peter O'Toole) breaks into the Bonnets' apartment. He appears to have a particular interest in one of Bonnet's paintings. Nicole catches him in the act and, from that moment, an unlikely alliance is formed as Nicole discovers that Simon may just be the man the family needs.

Following very much in the footsteps of a film Hepburn had previously stared in, Charade, How to Steal a Million captures elements of the 1930s screwball comedy spirit and blends them with the tension of an entertaining thriller. The comedy mainly comes from the interactions between Hepburn and O'Toole. Classically trained O'Toole and instinctively charismatic Hepburn have a natural comedic chemistry and, thus, play off each other highly amusingly and, at times, even charmingly. The initial meeting between their characters occurs with Nicole appearing in a nightgown and armed with a musket. A following meeting sees Nicole absurdly clad in a black mask-shaped veil with a black widow's dress to match. In the most unsubtle of subtle manners, she asks Simon whether he'd be interested in a "big-time caper".

The most memorable section of the film, however, and the part which generates the most tension, sees Nicole and Simon essentially locked in a storage cupboard for the best part of half an hour of the movie's run-time. They are attempting to steal a highly valuable object and must evade detection from the security forces. It is a brilliantly rendered piece of cinema which draws on James Bond style improbable antics and super-charges the development of the relationship between the two leads. It's amusing enough to be entertaining and just about probable enough to keep you highly engaged.

Despite the stakes in the film constantly remaining high, there is a genuine skill to the way in which it is able to maintain an overall light-touch to the proceedings. This is partly achieved by having a major focus on its style alongside its content. Hepburn's wardrobe is oft discussed when it comes to her movies but this film self-consciously makes her couture a central character. For the first time on camera, Hepburn steps away from her classic, timeless Breakfast at Tiffany's type attire and is gloriously adorned in the mod fashion of the day. Her visual presence is used to consummate effect as she looks every inch a style icon of the swinging '60s. A direct reference to Hepburn's relationship to fashion is made during a later part in the film, when Nicole is required to disguise herself as a washerwoman, Simon wittily remarks "It'll give Givenchy the day off". Alongside Hepburn's wardrobe, the film is generally full of rich deep colours and stylishly quirky cars, all of which provides a classic '60s feel. Though very much appealing to its time, the film rarely feels dated, the freshness of the performances, the sprightliness of John Williams' score and the audaciousness of the plot have the capacity to continue to engage modern audiences.

Notwithstanding the above, by the end of the film, there are a few loose ends with the characters' stories which don't completely satisfy and there is also the inclusion of characters who fail to add much to the proceedings. Eli Wallach, in particular, is wasted as an impulsive, art-obsessed millionaire, while Hugh Griffith deserves more screen-time as the man who is essentially the sympathetic villain of the piece. Yet, overall, the film is a highly entertaining and engaging watch and showed that, despite recording almost 15 years as a lead actress at this point, Hepburn continued to be a master of visual reinvention. Her character, on the other hand, was very much familiar, although there is a special naivety and benign subversiveness included as part of her performance here. She goes from constant fear regarding her father's crimes to gaining far too much enjoyment from those of her own. And then, of course, there is disarming way she delivers the killer line "You don't think I'd steal something that didn't belong to me, do you?"

The Nun's Story (1959)

Hepburn excels in slow-paced evocation of a "life against nature"

[7/10 · 13 August 2022]

Gabrielle (Audrey Hepburn) is a woman from a wealthy Belgian family who decides to join a convent. Although she continually struggles with the discipline such a lifestyle entails, she excels in her studies of science and nursing and is eventually dispatched to The Belgian Congo where she assists the forthright Dr Fortunati (Peter Finch). Gabrielle becomes dedicated to her work abroad and forges a strong professional relationship with the doctor but the longer the two spend together, the more the professional begins to bleed into the personal. Before this situation has a chance to develop further, however, Gabrielle is recalled to Belgium amidst fears of escalating war and a possible Nazi occupation. It is during this period that Gabrielle's vows are tested to the limit and she must finally discover where her life's purpose truly lies.

The Nun's Story is an, at times, fascinating account of what is essentially a lifestyle of extreme discipline. Through Gabrielle's journey, we see the intense training that nuns must undergo in order to show obedience to the "Holy Rule". This includes the restriction of speech to only essential matters, the seeking of permission for the most basic of acts (such as drinking a glass of water between meals), and the cultivation of submission and humility through physical prostration and the washing of superior nuns' feet. Added to this, the nuns are required to strip themselves of personal desire and any sense of personal pride. If they fail in their duties in even the most minor manner, they are required to note their failings and confess them to the rest of the convent. Perhaps the greatest challenge, though, is that the nuns must completely separate themselves from their former lives. They no longer belong to the outside world, they belong to the Convent. In the words of one of the senior nuns, being a nun "is not a life of refuge from the world; it is a life of sacrifice. In a way, it is a life against nature. It is a never-ending struggle for self-perfection." Zinnemann's intimate framing and minimalist visual style achieves a sense of verisimilitude when capturing the day-to-day, and even moment-to-moment, struggles that the nuns must undergo. There is a neo-realist, documentary-esque approach to the film, with minimal use of music, and scene after scene of ritual and silence. Quite deliberately, the film moves along at a glacial pace, attempting to evoke a sense of the reality of convent life.

While this approach is effective to a certain degree, it does demand a lot from the audience, and if you are not particularly curious about the lifestyle of a nun, then there is every chance you will lose patience with the film. Yet, naturally, there is a trump card that the film has to play in the form of its lead actress, Audrey Hepburn, who excels in playing against type in the main role. So often famed for her delightful frivolity and Givenchy-inspired immaculate sense of fashion, Hepburn, in this film, trades her stylish dresses for a nun's habit, and instead of delivering witty repartee, delivers vows. She appears without make-up, which has the perhaps unintended effect of making her appear even more attractive, and demonstrates a seriousness of character and a stiffness of bearing that was alien to her typical cinematic persona. One senses that this was among the most demanding performances of Hepburn's career. The fact that she achieves it with such conviction and authenticity shows just how much talent she possessed as an actress.

While Hepburn excels, there is a glaring missed opportunity in the telling of her character's story. The film never makes clear what is motivating Gabrielle to go through the extreme privations and prostrations that being a nun entails. She is shown to come from a loving family, which is well-off financially, and she never shows any significant signs of underlying fanaticism or intense religious devotion that one would think undertaking such a commitment in her circumstances would require. The fact Gabrielle so often seems like a fish-out-of-water in her convent's surroundings has the benefit of making her character more relatable to the audience but it also has the disadvantage of making her decisions appear less credible.

Another issue the film possesses is with its pacing. I've previously alluded to its glacial quality but, around half-way through its run-time, the audience is transported away from the convent and into a volunteer-run hospital in the Belgian Congo. The intimacy of the interior settings of the convent and the familiarity that had been generated with its rhythms and routines is, thus, lost and, instead, we are provided with an under-cooked romantic angle in the jungle with the appearance of Dr Fortunati. There is still something compelling about the scenes, which were shot on location in central Africa, and tension is achieved in the depiction of Gabrielle being forced to balance her commitment to her vows with her commitment to her patients, but it feels as if we are watching a rather different film to that which we had been watching before and the change in location and the slightly increased pace of the film during its second half does deliver a somewhat jarring experience overall.

So, I would certainly recommend this film to both fans of Audrey Hepburn, especially those who are not yet educated as to the range of performance she was capable of, and to those who have an interest in convent life in the first half of the 20th century. But, if you fall into neither of these camps, you might struggle with this one.

The Children's Hour (1961)

A flawed yet intriguing, pioneering social drama

[7/10 · 12 August 2022]

Karen Wright (Audrey Hepburn) and Martha Dobie (Shirley MacLaine) are two teachers who operate a private boarding school. After expending a fair degree of both effort and money getting the school afloat, Karen thinks it may be the right time to leave the school in Martha's capable hands as she considers the prospect of marriage to long-time beau Dr Joe Cardin (James Garner). There are, however, multiple tensions simmering beneath the surface. Karen and Martha have more than a professional relationship; they have been friends since college and the idea of parting from Karen, even temporarily, seems to cause Martha a significant degree of distress. These feelings spill over one night when Martha verbally attacks Karen for what she perceives as potential abandonment. As this is going on, a particularly precocious and vindictive child, Mary, (played by Karen Balkin) overhears the teachers arguing and subsequently concocts an incendiary story which places the two women in the setting of a romantic relationship.

Mary initially tells her lies to her grandmother, played by Fay Bainter, the content of which are so salacious that she can not countenance the idea that they could be invented by a child. Mary's statements are also supported, under psychological duress, by a trusted classmate, Rosalie, (Veronica Cartwright) and further bolstered by Martha's own aunt (played by Miriam Hopkins) who talks of Martha's "jealous" and "unnatural" attachment to Karen. From this point forth, the rumours spread through the school like a wildfire and engulf everything Karen and Martha have worked so hard to establish. Each and every child is removed from their studies and the two women face social and financial ruin. Where they will turn next, it is difficult to discern.

Based on Lillian Hellman's, at the time, controversial 1934 play, The Children's Hour was described by the playwright as being less about homosexuality and more about "the power of a lie". It is worth noting, however, that the first cinematic adaptation of this film, These Three (1936), which replaced the rumour of a lesbian relationship with the allegation of a heterosexual menage-a-trois, had nothing of the resonance of this 1961 remake. It is also worth bearing in mind that The Children's Hour is now essentially regarded as the first major Hollywood production which focused on the concept of homosexuality in anything other than an oblique fashion. In this way, it has genuine historical relevance as one of the first LGBTQ+ films that Hollywood ever released. But, is it any good? I would argue, yes, although it is not a film without flaws.

Let's start with the positives. Despite certain critical reactions, it is fair to say that the film does possess a fair amount of courage when one bears in mind the censorship restrictions of the period. In fact, what provides the film with its power is that it is willing to show the extent to which the lie that is told actually represents a truth. Martha does love Karen, and that love is of a romantic nature. An early scene in the film provides a strong hint of this as it shows Karen and Martha in what initially appears to be a state of domestic bliss. They are both drying dishes and discussing when they will be able to get Martha's aunt out of the house so that it will be just the two of them (plus a fair few unruly children). They then go on to discuss how much money they have made for the month and what they will do with their profits. In a tender and slightly flirtatious exchange, Martha says to Karen "You need some new clothes." To which Karen replies, "So do you." "I'm strictly a blouse and skirt sort of girl." Martha says, "You're 5th Avenue, you need to be kept up." Martha then goes on to reminisce about the first time she ever saw Karen, she ends on this reflection: "I remember thinking, what a pretty girl...". It's these moments which show the film at its boldest. They establish the clearly palpable rapport that exists between Karen and Martha as characters and Hepburn and MacLaine as actors. They also show how nourishing a romantic relationship between the two could have been.

The most obvious strength the film possesses is, of course, its lead actors. Both Hepburn and MacLaine are among the greatest to step in-front of a camera and they both give measured and affecting performances. Hepburn shows grace and compassion in a role which is, at times unhelpfully, ambiguous. She possesses an innate sense of decency and propriety in her enunciation, poise and demeanour. It is this propriety which, at least to an extent, seems to prevent her from appreciating or even acknowledging the true nature of the feelings her friend has for her until they are explicitly spelt out. It also prevents the audience from establishing whether those feelings are in any way reciprocated. Yet there are clues to pick up on. For example, Karen is initially hesitant to get married to her partner and eventually decides to do so because of her desire to have a baby, the one (and possibly only) advantage a male partner would possess over a partner of the same sex. Also, when the rumours begin, Karen suggests that she and Martha move to another city together to start again. It's also worth bearing in mind that at no point in the film is Karen's attachment to Martha in any way shaken, even after she has good reason to believe that Martha does in fact have strong romantic affections for her.

There is absolutely no ambiguity, on the other hand, with Martha, who elicits deep pathos as a woman who is genuinely conflicted about her sexuality, not because she is unsure whether she is gay, she clearly is, but because she is sure that her feelings are utterly toxic and immoral. Here it should be stated that, ultimately, this is MacLaine's film, her performance is what provides the movie with its intensity and tragedy. Martha is a good woman: hard-working, loyal, dependable, and, basically, honest. She also happens to be gay and in love with Karen. The fact that her capacity for love and the inherent nature of her sexuality is what demonises her in the eyes of her community is devastating to watch and this leads Martha down a horrific path of self-condemnation and self-hatred. The film shows this, MacLaine's performance shows this, powerfully, uncompromisingly. So the film is not quite as pusillanimous as many reviewers at the time accused it of being.

Yet, when the film was released, it wasn't the 1930s any more. The '60s had arrived and would presage a revolution in social mores and attitudes. The film was in no way reflective of this and instead transposed a post-Victorian sensibility onto a world which had just witnessed the rock-and-roll revolution and the release of the contraceptive pill. The extreme hysteria over an alleged relationship between two attractive, pleasant, well-adjusted women no longer seemed credible. Certainly, homophobic attitudes existed in the '60s, they still exist today, but the way in which Karen and Martha are treated after the town hears the accusations and the speed of the disintegration of their reputation and social standing would have been more fitting if the teachers had been accused of abusing the children, it certainly did not seem proportionate as a response to the idea of them possibly having romantic affection for each other.

The film's sense of datedness in its own time and it's relative timidity are further demonstrated in the fact that the accusations are constantly and literally whispered from one character to another, indicating that the statements are too horrific to be heard by the audience's delicate ears. In this way, the tone of the film suffers from the still powerful code of censorship which existed in Hollywood in the early '60s. On a related note, it is worth asking why theatre audiences were deemed ready to process this material as originally conceived in the '30s and cinema audiences could not be exposed to it until almost 30 years later. In many ways, the consequences of this delay meant that this film was doomed to be released too late to have a truly meaningful contemporary impact.

Nonetheless, I believe that, with hindsight, cinema is a better place with this film in existence. As previously stated, very few in Hollywood were making films that were even beginning to seriously address homosexuality. In this way, I think the film deserves its recognition as a pioneering effort. We should not forget that it shows the suffering that good people endure when society treats them as monsters purely because of their sexual orientation. Whether this was the intended message of the film or not is debatable, but it is surely the aspect that resonates most deeply when it is watched today.

Wait Until Dark (1967)

In turns both compelling and preposterous, yet a film all Hepburn fans must watch

[7/10 · 11 August 2022]

Susy Hendrix, played by Audrey Hepburn, is a woman who has recently lost her sight. On one fateful afternoon, after finishing at "blind school", she returns to her apartment and unwittingly finds herself thrust into the middle of a desperate search. The search is being conducted by three unscrupulous criminals, played by Alan Arkin, Richard Crenna and Jack Weston, each of whom is engaged in trying to find a doll within which there is a significant amount of heroin hidden. Due to a series of unfortunate events, they have good reason to believe that the doll is within Susy's home. What they can not be sure of, however, is whether Susy is herself aware of that fact. Cue a series of assumed identities and a slew of attempted manipulations with the threat of violence only ever a whisper away as the criminals seek to take full advantage of Susy's vulnerabilities. Yet, while her visual sense may no longer serve her, she has other ways of discovering what is truly going on. And if she can just hang in there until the day gets dark, she may be able to even the odds against the malign forces that surround her.

Long before Al Pacino won an Oscar for his portrayal of blind Lieutenant Colonel Frank Slade, Audrey Hepburn was demonstrating her acting chops in what is a compelling and typically sympathetic performance. Hepburn's movements and physical positioning as a blind person are meticulous and convincing. And, as an actress who is naturally skilled in exuding vulnerability, the situations she is placed within are often excruciating to watch. To compound this, Alan Arkin plays an utterly remorseless psychotic killer who should be trusted by no-one, including his hapless sidekicks. As the film progresses, the angelic grace and charm of Hepburn placed against the diabolical intensity of Arkin makes for one of the most compelling cinematic character face-offs you could ever hope to witness.

With regards to the acting, then, we are in safe hands. The pacing of the film, however, is slightly less accomplished. The film begins with several scenes designed to establish the set-up of the plot. The problem is that it takes a good while for that process to be completed and, thus, the film somewhat stutters into action. Once it gets going, though, it does a fine job of ratcheting up the tension and providing a dark thrill-ride to its unsettling destination.

The real missed opportunity with this film comes in the form of the plotting itself. It is, essentially, utterly unconvincing. A fundamental example of this is that the atmosphere and logic of the film rely on the female protagonist being isolated from outside help. But the fact she lives in an apartment in a clearly residential area makes such isolation highly unlikely. Poor Susy doesn't even think to scream for help until the film is well into its run-time and her situation has become particularly perilous. This doubtful element of the plot is exacerbated by the fact that Susy's one ally is a young teenage girl who lives in the apartment above her and is made fully aware of the danger Susy is in. But not once are her parents or guardians of any description invoked or contacted during Susy's moments of extreme duress.

So, overall, Wait Until Dark is certainly a tense, compelling watch if more than a little preposterous in places. The sense of claustrophobia provides the film with a heightened tension while Hepburn's channelling of blindness is a marvel to behold and in itself ought to silence any critics who question her acting credentials. Her performance is made even more effective by the fact that she maintains the presence and charm in this role that she is still so often revered for possessing. Yet, ultimately, one must acknowledge that the film rarely makes more than superficial use of Hepburn's deeper gifts for eliciting compassion, the stock in trade here is edge-of-the-seat drama. On this particular level, the film very much delivers.

Pleasure (2021)

Heavy on atmosphere and sexual subversion, yet unhappily light in insight

[7/10 · 2 July 2022]

Pleasure is the story of 19-year-old Swede Bella Cherry (Sofia Kappel) and her attempts to establish herself in the LA porn scene. She claims that she wants to become the world's next big porn star; however, achieving this goal will prove to be anything other than simple. Along her journey, she meets a variety of performers, agents and directors, all of whom are at different levels in the porn pyramid. If she wants to get to the top, she will have to become a fearless, dedicated performer, and go beyond emotional and physical boundaries that she could only previously have imagined attempting to cross. She quickly learns that the porn world is an intense, sometimes brutal, sometimes insane place to be, and it is not certain that Bella Cherry has what is takes to survive.

The debut feature effort of both director Ninja Thyberg and actress Sofia Kappel, Pleasure is a film which is extremely comfortable with making its audience squirm. This starts from one of the film's first scenes, which has an extreme close-up of Bella's most intimate region while she shaves herself in preparation for her first shoot. There is a slight scratch just above the perineal area which has previously been bleeding. Such details immediately remove the arousal that a young, naked woman in another context might elicit. They show her physical vulnerability, thus, her humanity. From there, we must bear witness to Bella being directed in a sex scene with a man who is more than twice her age. She is instructed as to how to move, where to look and what to say as she gets to work on fellating and copulating her way through her first scene. Shots of erect penises and ejaculation are filmed in a way that is more akin to something from a horror film than a sex scene. Thyberg has a way of visually emphasising the coldness and detachment that engaging in such work involves. The way the male's erection engorges the camera in extreme close-up is reminiscent of one of Ridley Scott's aliens emerging into shot on U. S. S Sulaco. Bella then films herself at the end of the scene on her smartphone with her face covered in ejaculate, a substance that doesn't look too dissimilar to that which infamously burst from John Hurt's character from the same film. The scene is a brilliant evocation of naked objectification. Sex for money is literally shown as invasive, intrusive, borderline horrific and fundamentally unarousing.

This is one of the great strengths of Thyberg's film; it completely subverts the purpose of pornography. There is very little that is titilating about Pleasure, a film title that is very much a misnomer. There are also insights into the off-camera realities of porn as the audience is exposed to the insidious psychological manipulation which takes place. Whenever Bella gets uncomfortable and does not wish to continue with a scene, the directors often know the right words to use and the right approaches to take in order to get her to do their bidding. They'll be encouraging, sensitive and supportive when necessary and they'll be threatening, hostile and borderline forceful when it suits. However, it would be wrong to see these people as the enemy. What lies behind all of the film's events, no matter how uncomfortable and dark they become, is the fact that Bella is there to experience them of her own volition. In fact, she has travelled halfway across the world to have these experiences. And so that takes us to a pretty salient question: why?

This is where the film struggles. The motivations for Bella's desire to be part of a world which she clearly finds alienating and intimidating are never made clear. This is despite Kappel giving a flawless performance in the central role. She exudes both fearlessness and extreme vulnerability; cold detachment and youthful naivety; single-minded ambition and profound ambivalence. There is so much range to Kappel's performance but the character is not written in such a way as to find any central motivation. Porn is a world of extremes and only extreme personalities belong there. Bella doesn't seem to be all that interested in sex, in fact the film never depicts her having sex off camera. There is no evidence of any events from her past influencing her decision either. Quite the opposite, the cliché of all pornstars being abused as children is very quickly mocked and dismissed in the early scenes of the film. So why is she there? Is she just a product of an extreme generation that is so obsessed with Warhol's predicted fifteen-minutes of fame that she'll take whatever route best available to get her there? This is never made clear. And the fact that the film is so tightly focused on her character (she is in literally every scene) means that it is hard to find any reason to extrapolate from her character to her generation as a whole. It is worth noting that the only scene we get which reveals anything of Bella's life back in Sweden only confuses matters even more. The background motivations for her actions just don't seem to be present.

What we have, then, is a twisted, subversive film experience in which a young, pretty naive woman is thrust into an environment of humiliation, degradation and brutality. We are shown sex scenes which are not arousing. We are shown glamour which is utterly unappealing. We are shown a character who is trying to establish herself in a world that is constantly in flux. The art direction is astounding and the soundtrack is atmospheric and unsettling, while the overall tone of the film is unflinchingly menacing. Yet, despite some interesting reveals as to attitudes and approaches which exist behind the camera, and despite the heavy on-camera involvement of actors and directors directly from the porn industry, what we do not get is a genuine insight into the mindset of a porn star. Bella is quite simply an abstraction of a real-life porn performer, she's not the real deal. As interesting and as darkly engaging as this film is, less atmosphere and more psychological revelation could have led to a genuinely vital document. Most of us will have been exposed to, or exposed ourselves to, porn at some point in our lives. It is now virtually ubiquitous. But how many of us truly understand what the porn industry is, or what motivates its most recognised performers? I'm not sure I do, and I don't really feel much the wiser for having watched this film.

Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

Expertly navigated throwback thrill-ride

[8/10 · 26 June 2022]

When Top Gun was released in 1986, it made quite the impression upon audiences. People flocked to cinemas time and again to watch groundbreaking flying scenes interspersing a particularly juvenile version of the hero's journey. The hero in question was Maverick, played by Tom Cruise, and the original Top Gun was very much his film. It is therefore fitting that the sequel be in the same vein. Top Gun Maverick provides us with a lot more flying and a lot more Maverick. 36 years later, one can see how updated technology, of both the plane and camera variety, would make fresh flying scenes appealing, but surely, three-and-a-half decades later, Tom Cruise as Maverick can not be the same heroic figure that he once was. Well, no-one told Tom Cruise that and nor should they have. As a film star, he still has the presence and the bravura to remain front-and-centre of this hyper-charged vehicle.

Of course he is much older now, although, in fairness, he really doesn't look it. In fact, Tom Cruise has defied the aging process much more successfully than the original Top Gun film. Technologically, Top Gun Maverick soars miles above its predecessor. Gone are the miniature model plane shots and scenes filmed in aircraft simulators. This film sees its characters genuinely taken into the skies, and it's a marvel to witness such adrenaline and action captured on the screen. The poor pacing, uneven tone and unbridled machismo of the original film is also improved upon in the sequel. The pacing is helped by having a much more developed plot, which provides a narrative context for the copious flying scenes. Each of the scenes is needed to move the plot forward and shows how the crack team are progressing towards their final mission. Taking the lead from the 2nd half of the original film, the sequel is suffused with a sense of loss and a need for redemption. Rooster (played by Miles Teller) is the son of Maverick's late best friend, Goose, and his character provides this redemptive arc. Rooster is both a surrogate son and a potential best-friend-in-the-making to Maverick. It's their complicated relationship and their shared connection to the late "Goose" that forms the emotional core of the film.

As to the previous machismo, this time the film has a much more nuanced emotional palette. Maverick is much older in years and he has become wistful and reflective over time. The best scenes in the film, for my money, are at the beginning, when Maverick is surveying the generation of fighter pilots who have ostensibly replaced him. For a few brief moments, he's a good-looking older guy at the bar watching the young bucks cavorting and performing in the exact same way he once did. Maverick is a man who has seen all of his former colleagues either pass away or age out. He alone is clinging to the rigors and audacity of a youth that belies his actual years. But, of course, this is the world of Top Gun, and in this world Maverick is always the hero. The higher the stakes, the more heroic Maverick will become. Just as speed and space are no object, neither is time. It doesn't matter that Maverick is now twice the age of all the other hotshot Top Gun pilots, he'll outpace and outperform them because that is what Top Gun requires, the hero must prevail at all costs.

There are many flights of fancy and there is a general sense of unbelievability regarding significant portions of the plot but there is always just enough risk so that the film never quite lets go of its emotional pull. Thus, it does enough to immerse you in the fantasy and provide the emotional catharsis that comes from a sense of triumph earned amidst the genuine possibility of tragedy. In this sense, the film has an old-fashioned feel to it. It takes its audience back to a time before the rules of big budget actions films changed. It holds to sacred formulas of heroic triumph and ultimate redemption that are no longer fashionable in this genre. It taps into a pureness and simplicity that audiences still clearly yearn for but which is now extremely difficult to deliver in a manner that is convincing and satisfying.

More generally, both Tom Cruise and Top Gun Maverick represent a generation of Hollywood which is out-of-step with current trends. The film emphasises practical effects in an industry increasingly dominated by computer technology. It champions a white male hero in the face of 3rd-wave feminism, intersectionality and critical race and gender theory. It depicts ultimate triumph in a world which no longer believes in absolutes. And, yet, it finds a way to succeed.

This film demonstrates that old formulas can still work. If it's daring, it is so because it is so wedded to an artistic temperament that long preceded its release. To paraphrase the film, movies of this kind may one day be obsolete, but not today.

Mommie Dearest (1981)

A triumphant performance in a film that fails on almost every other level

[7/10 · 12 June 2022]

Mommie Dearest is the cinematic retelling of Christine Crawford's excoriating autobiography in which she details the psychological and physical abuse she suffered from her mother, legendary Hollywood actress, Joan Crawford. In the film, Joan is played by Faye Dunaway, a role which is widely considered to have derailed her own Hollywood career. Although the film is supposedly based on Christine's story, its centrepiece is very much Joan herself. We witness her romantic dalliances, her battles to remain relevant in the film industry and, most memorably, her fits of ferocious insanity and cold manipulation towards her tormented adopted daughter, Christine (played by both Diana Scarwid and Mara Hobel). This involves seismic freakouts over the use of wire hangers, beatings, an attempt to choke an adolescent Christine to death over a perceived public embarrassment, and continual efforts at the forced feeding of rare meat. All the while, Christine is obligated to refer to her mother as "Mommie Dearest".

As a film which was apparently intended to be a hard-hitting investigation of the horrors of child abuse, this movie has a unique and surprising legacy. It is not recognised critically as a film of value; however, its cultural impact has been significant, particularly for those old enough to remember the controversy surrounding the film's release. As a result, discussions over the film tend to centre around the validity and ethics of its vicious portrayal of a Hollywood icon. Fascinatingly, given its subject matter, the movie has also become a camp classic in the mold of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, where audiences will attend in drag and chant key lines from the film in unison followed by unanimous, raucous laughter. Who ever knew that a film that exposed a celebrated figure as being a child-abuser could be such a hoot...

When it comes to analysing the reasons for the above reception, we could do worse than by turning our attention to the first scene. The main character is filmed from behind as she meticulously bathes her face in a bucket of cold ice before rubbing it with a concoction of steaming liquid potions. The camera is focused on filming her from behind and it only shows her from the neck down. The subject is thus eeriely depersonalised in a way which suggests horror undertones. Now this was no doubt intended to show the extreme dedication and the desperation of Joan's attempt to control every aspect about her, especially her looks, but the film-makers only seem to have one approach to their subject: exaggeration.

This approach continues for the rest of the film as we are exposed to a portrayal that is so dramatic, so manipulative, so unhinged that the character fully enters into the territory of horror villain. Joan is shown in scene after scene screaming, howling, beating, chopping, choking. She is depicted as a raging, spit-flecked psychopath, able to be triggered at the slightest perceived provocation: "NO WIRE HANGERS!" One particular scene shows her as capable of murder as poor Christine's life is almost choked into non-existence as a response to a fairly mild moment of defiance. In the words of the angelic looking child Christine, "For Christ's sake."

Due to such unrelenting exaggeration, the film is not centrally a dramatic portrayal of child abuse or any other social subject. It is, rather, both an intensely focused character study and an exploitationist piece of domestically-situated horror. Despite the views of many, I would argue that this is not due to Faye Dunaway's performance per se, but the way in which her performance is contextualised. When you see the first of Joan's dramatic explosions, it is pretty shocking. Joan is played as relatively composed during the film's initial scenes and the child Christine is essentially cuteness and vulnerability personified. Seeing Joan act so cruelly towards her, therefore, initially has the desired effect. The problem is that the entire focus of the film very quickly shifts to a presentation of undiluted rage and insanity, with the rest of the movie lifelessly punctuating the next histrionic detonation. No craft, ambition or skill is shown by anyone behind the camera in channelling what is, in my view, an exceptional central performance into a fully-developed and insightful narrative experience. After all, is Dunaway's performance, from an acting perspective, any more over-the-top than Robert De Niro's in Raging Bull (note the title here) or Gena Rowlands' in A Woman Under the Influence, or Daniel Day Lewis' in There Will Be Blood? Three cinematic performances that demonstrate unmistakable greatness. I would say no. The difference is that De Niro, Rowlands and Day Lewis' performances exist in a wider narrative which is rich, engaging and is able to ground the respective portrayals. Some people are psychotically unhinged, and Joan was played that way here. From a dramatic perspective, there is nothing wrong with that but the film needs to provide a context in which the performance can be meaningfully understood. If the entire rhythm and pulse of the film is based around a performance that is so intense, you risk going from dramatic character study to camp, scenery-chewing, unintentional laugh-fest.

However, as an appreciator of great acting performances, I can not allow Dunaway's efforts to go unnoticed here. She does not over-act, it is the films architecture which under-delivers. This is, actually, a remarkable feat of acting, and it's a great shame that it is now so often seen as hammy to the point of hilarity. Let's bear in mind, De Niro had Scorcese, Rowlands had Cassavetes and Day Lewis had PT Anderson. Who did Dunaway get? Frank Perry.

As I have no knowledge of Joan Crawford personally, I'll make no comment on the veracity of Dunaway's performance, although, artistically, I'm not sure that matters. I will say, though, that it is clear Dunaway reaches deep within herself to deliver something quite special here. She is intense as hell and completely committed to the madness, insecurity and deep sadness that must motivate the actions and reactions of someone as disturbing as the character we see onscreen. Dunaway does not strike any false notes, her conception is fully realised and has a depth and texture that is there to be felt by those who are able to appreciate it. As a showcase of the immense craft of one of the greatest cinematic actresses of all time, this film is actually a triumph. The fact is; however, Dunaway's performance would have been worthy of one of cinema's greatest dramatic tragedies. Instead it has been doomed to be unappreciated, or, perhaps even worse, contemptuously appreciated, in a film that is widely regarded as a farce.

7/10 (And all 7 of those points belong to Faye)

Some Like It Hot (1959)

Timeless, sublime character-driven comedy

[10/10 · 5 June 2022]

Voted the funniest American comedy ever made, Some Like It Hot is a film that has aced the test of time. This feat is made somehow even more impressive when one reflects on the retro elements the film draws on. There is a slice of '30s gangster pictures, a large wedge of '30s/'40s screwball comedy and the entire film is set during the 1920s prohibition era. Yet, despite the historical influences, the film feels eerily modern. Made, although not approved, during the highly-restrictive "Hays Code era", we are treated to cross-dressing lead males and an often scantily-clad Marilyn Monroe alongside jokes and allusions which demonstrate an acceptance, maturity and knowingness that seem far ahead of the prevailing mores of the era.

Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon play Joe and Jerry, two musicians in Chicago who are living hand-to-mouth and find themselves owing money to virtually everyone with whom they've had professional or social contact. The situation gets worse when the speakeasy they are playing at becomes obsolete after a law enforcement crackdown. With no jobs or any prospects of getting out of debt, one would think the pairs' misfortune could be compounded no further. This turns out not to be the case as they find themselves inadvertently bearing witness to a mass mob shooting. Narrowly escaping but now in mortal danger, they hit upon a rather hare-brained scheme: they will disguise themselves as women in order to join an all-girl jazz band that is leaving for Florida that very night. Thus Joe and Jerry will become Josephine and Geraldine, no make that Josephine and Daphne (Jerry never really liked the name Geraldine anyway). If this plan works out, the pair can escape the mob, earn some money and be free of their debts once and for all. The entire concept is ridiculous, audacious and utterly outrageous, so get in and get set for a thrill-ride because that is just the very point.

As with all great comedies, you have to start with the script. The dialogue is crackling in its wit and inventiveness. This is evident right from the first scene in which a number of delicious linguistic allusions are interwoven. An undercover policeman infiltrates an illegal bar constructed within a funeral parlour and the cop has to announce himself as a pall bearer in order to enter. He is not able to get one of the best seats, however, as these are reserved for those who were "close members of the family", read: the mob. The cop is also rebuffed when he asks for booze as the establishment only serves coffee: scotch coffee, Canadian coffee or sour mash coffee, that is. This sort of repartee continues when we are introduced to the two male leads and ramps up during their exploits as disguised women. A particularly amusing example occurs while Jerry/Daphne is teasing the prospect of revealing his secret to Marilyn Monroe's Sugar Kane, she offers him a drink and says, "That'll put hairs on your chest.", "No fair guessing." Comes Daphne's reply.

The script doesn't just fire in terms of dialogue, the overall set-up plays out wonderfully too. There are a large number of moving parts which somehow blend quite joyously together with all of them centring around Joe and Jerry. Both men are fish out of water as they try to blend in as women in their supposedly all-female band, the threat of detection being an ever-present concern. Then there's the need to stay one step ahead of the mob, who want Joe and Jerry out of the way. To make matters even more complicated, both men develop love interests: Joe finds himself infatuated with the beautiful Sugar Kane and so, to woo her, enters into a second-level disguise as a reclusive millionaire looking for someone to mend his wounded heart. While "Daphne" engenders the unwanted affections of the blithely eccentric and actual millionaire Osgood Fielding III (played by Joe E Brown). As a result of all this, there is constant tension and the film moves at a rapid-fire pace. And yet, somehow, there is room for genuine moments of calm in which characters are developed and sympathies are established. Despite being recognised for its comedic prowess, the film is not pure comedy as there is genuine pathos and elements of drama. Sugar Kane is wounded and betrayed but keeps on making the same mistakes. Joe is manipulative and dishonest and yet the script finds room for him to show a modicum of repentance for his behaviour. Jerry and Osgood, on the other hand, seem to be matched together for the comedic value provided but, low-and-behold, even in their relationship lies a depth which is only discovered in what has to be the greatest final line in the history of cinema. In short, if ever there were a defining example of what a perfect screenplay should look like then this is it.

So many words and I still have not focused on the performances, without the brilliance of which the film would not have worked at all. Curtis and Lemmon put in seminal turns as Jo, Jerry, Jospehine, Geraldine, Daphne, and Shell Oil Junior. Their mannerisms, accents and comedic timing are all sublime and, thus, an utter joy to watch. Curtis' take on Cary Grant's vocal inflections while playing his make-believe millionaire make for particularly amusing viewing and the role-reversing inter-cutting scene in which Marilyn Monroe is seducing Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon and Joe E Brown are taking turns in leading during a tango is both played and directed to perfection.

And so, finally, to the master-mind behind it all: Billy Wilder. He is possibly the most unsung great director that Hollywood ever produced. Wilder's direction provides a frantic energy but it also gives plenty of time and space to allow the story to blossom. In what is such a ludicrous set-up, it would be easy for this film to operate as an exploitative piece of nonsense comedy. Instead it is both a thrill-ride and yet tender, humane and touching. It makes full value of the comedy of two brilliantly talented male actors posing as women without ever making cross-dressing or alternative lifestyles the butt of the joke. Wilder makes sure that it's the characters who take centre-stage, and the characters are essentially confused, vulnerable, weak-willed and utterly imperfect, yet quite loveable and very much relatable as a result. That Wilder is able to achieve so much in just one picture is what, I believe, has led to this film maintaining its relevance for so long. Sixty-three years and counting, if films ought to be judged on their ability to withstand time's test, then it is right that this film should be honoured with the highest accolade it is possible to bestow.

The Chase (1966)

An oddly unconvincing yet curiously enjoyable spectacle of dissolution and disarray

[7/10 · 1 June 2022]

A largely forgotten yet star-studded film, The Chase presents a significant day in the lives of the characters who make up a dysfunctional southern American town. This town is ostensibly run by its Sheriff, Calder (Marlon Brando), but the man with the real power is Val Rogers (EG Marshall). Rogers has amassed both wealth and standing but there are things the town knows to which he remains uniquely ignorant. Most significantly his son, Jake (James Fox), is having an affair with Anna Reeves (Jane Fonda). What makes this situation particularly scandalous is that Anna is married to Bubber Reeves (Robert Redford): a convict who has recently broken out of prison. Bubber's escape coincides with numerous celebrations, one commemorating the birthday of Val Rogers, at which the town's most important members are present, and the other being a compensatory dinner party for those uninvited to the former do. As Bubber is rumoured to be heading closer to town, each of the residents becomes more agitated, excited and inebriated. Something vicious seems to be bubbling away amongst key members of the community and there is a genuine threat that long-standing resentments and barely suppressed tensions may finally come to the fore.

The Chase is a very strange film. In some ways it seems almost designed to be dizzyingly chaotic and preposterously plotted, to the extent that it becomes an eerily fascinating spectacle of creative indulgence and disarray. None of the characters' back-stories and motivations appear to make any sense. For instance, the main character, Brando's Sheriff Calder, spends most of the film wandering around apparently in search of Bubber but he is constantly distracted by minor affrays and potential outbreaks of violence. As he always appears to be present where the worst of the action is occurring, it is no coincidence that he ends up becoming the victim of a violent attack himself. In what has turned out to be the film's most famous scene, Calder is viciously beaten by a gang of the town's residents for no clear reason at all.

Then there is Bubber himself, the man who draws the town's attention faster than a lightening rod in a storm (even if the police often appear to be inexplicably distracted). Not only does he decide to break out of prison when he had very little remaining of his current sentence, he decides to travel to the exact place he would be most likely to get caught and sent back. And why does he do this? Because he's hungry, apparently, and could do with a few bucks. Surely he'd have been better off eating his prison food until he could seek the town's alimentary assistance without risking the triggering of a nationwide manhunt...

Illogical plotting aside, the entire atmosphere of the film is stagey and artificial. Characters are often portrayed lolling about, drinking and getting into petty disputes as if performing a stifled rendition of the party scenes from La Dolce Vita. The few characters who are not rambling drunkards are instead loitering with intent, trying to pick up on the latest gossip and scandal, supposedly because they have no internal lives whatsoever. In short, there is nothing about this film that feels natural, logical or convincing, and yet, in the extravagance of its artificiality, it is quite gripping.

The contrivances in the film seem to be used to try to hold up some sort of mirror. The writer, Lillian Hellman, clearly feels that she is making a point about something, although exactly what is extremely difficult to say. There are overt references to classicism, racism, the limits of self-actualisation, the sins of the past, overbearing paternal authority and the insidiousness of small-town corruption... and, of course, throwing all of this into the synthetic soup of visuals and allusions that this film represents achieves absolutely nothing in terms of conveying a coherent message. However, it does all serve to shine a light on the monstrous maliciousness and seething, destructive hatred which exists beneath the town's surface, the observance of which makes for quite compelling viewing.

I have no idea what the creators of this film wished to achieve and it is perhaps quite by accident that the final product is ultimately so deliciously subversive. None of the characters are particularly relatable or likable and therein is generated an inverse charm. The film presents a snake-pit of sorts which the viewer may stare at from a distance with feelings of fascinated revulsion and shamefaced enjoyment. The fact is that the entire event is such a glorious spectacle of wrathful ridiculousness that it must finally be acknowledged as highly entertaining.

Top Gun (1986)

A flashy, attention-grabbing, toxic male fantasy on steroids.

[6/10 · 23 May 2022]

Thirty six years ago witnessed the release of Top Gun; a film which was destined to become a classic of its era. It centres around Maverick (played by Tom Cruise), a bravura naval aviator who plays by his own rules and almost always finds a way to win. Maverick's unique skill-set sees him enter Top Gun, a training programme for elite naval pilots. Here he will come up against his stiffest competition yet, he will also find himself in a cat-and-mouse pursuit of one of the female trainers at the academy, Charlie (played by Kelly McGillis). Alongside telling the story of Maverick's constant ability to overcome the odds, Top Gun is notable for its copious, often groundbreaking, flying scenes and its provision of a plethora of semi-naked, glistening male bodies. There is also, of course, that classic '80s soundtrack, the crowning element of which is Berlin's melodramatic anthem "Take My Breath Away".

Deemed as the film which best epitomises the Reagan era, Top Gun is a flashy, attention-grabbing, toxic male fantasy on steroids. That is not to say that it doesn't have its plus points. There are some impressive flying shots (I say shots rather than scenes as the scenes often feel interminable and made exclusively for aviation obsessives). There is also a slight element of depth to the film when an event of genuine tragedy occurs which finally makes Maverick doubt his preternatural abilities. On top of this, there is something oddly entertaining about the ridiculously crass and unconvincing dialogue, and the unashamed brashness with which the film presents its spectacle of total masculine triumph. On that note, it's worth looking at the background to this triumph in a little more detail.

Maverick's major obstacles in this film are, firstly, the Top Gun top-brass; he needs to prove not only that he is the best pilot, but he needs to prove to them that he can only be the best by doing things his way. Then there is Charlie, the object of his romantic attentions, he must totally conquer her to demonstrate his supreme masculinity. We also have unresolved father issues stemming from a murky death during aerial combat: Maverick must solve the mystery of his father's final acts to conquer the past as well as the present. Naturally, he must also overcome himself when doubts begin to swarm about the nature of his true abilities. But Maverick's greatest obstacle comes from the man who is both his most prominent rival and critic: Ice (played by Val Kilmer). Gaining his approval is what will truly cement Maverick as a leader among men. I will not reveal the resolutions of these plot strands just in case there are some who have not yet got around to seeing this film, but suffice it to say that Maverick's arc very much plays out as a hero's journey.

The greatest objection I have to this film, besides the incessant flying scenes, is the solipsistically obsessive attention it pays to its main character and the toxic message this plays into when it comes to defining and understanding masculinity. When watching this film, I challenge you to find a single piece of dialogue which takes place outside of the flying or teaching scenes which does not reference Maverick directly. Every utterance, every snipe, every chance interaction is based around establishing the fact that Maverick is firmly at the centre of this narrative. I understand that Maverick is the hero of this journey but to force this concept so incessantly risks moving the film from being mere fantasy into the category of wildly-unrealistic aspiration. Insecure, directionless men may look to Maverick as a pin-up for their own arrested psyches. They can perhaps imagine that one day they could be a fraction as important as Maverick clearly is in this make-believe world.

A particularly egregious consequence of the Maverick obsession is that we are fed diabolically underdeveloped and underwritten supporting characters, the worst example of which is Charlie. She starts out well enough as a young, driven woman who refuses to be impressed by Maverick's irrepressible cockiness and insufferable self-assurance. But then she completely falls for him, because... because she must... because... because who, after all, could resist this paragon of masculine excellence? The problem is that she very quickly becomes an appendage to Maverick. The story is so obsessed with him that there is no room whatsoever to provide her with any agency, character or even particularly discernible characteristics. Then comes Ice, who appears to be the saltiest and most cringe-worthily obsessed individual you could ever not wish to encounter. He can not resist any opportunity to criticise and undermine the noble, brilliant Maverick, until, of course, he too is won over. When it comes to Maverick, even the haters can't keep up their hate.

The seemingly overt homo-eroticism of the film is worth remarking upon due to its notoriety and quirkiness but it is, in my view, often misunderstood. The reason there are so many scenes of shiny, sculpted male flesh is to show us what all real men should look like and what all aspirational women should be blessed to be in the presence of. Top Gun is about boys and their toys. It's about "real men" fully expressing themselves and finding a way to have it all. It's about a jet-fuelled hero who is supercharged and supremely able. It's a G-forced geeing up of dissatisfied males who feel the need for something larger-than-life to aspire to. As long as the film is taken as a corny fantasy, it's harmless and enjoyable enough. My only concern is that it seems to have the potential to be taken not quite literally but perhaps a little too seriously.

Deep Water (I) (2022)

A lightweight, absurd erotic thriller

[5/10 · 15 May 2022]

Famous director of '80s and '90s sex and sleaze, Adrian Lyne, returns after a 20-year absence to sit at the helm of this preposterous, nonsensical erotic-thriller-cum-husband-and-wife tale. Right from the beginning of the film there is a throwback feel in the absurdly exaggerated sexualisation of the female lead, Melinda (played by Ana de Armas). What feels slightly more contemporary, at least initially, is the extent to which Ben Affleck's male lead, Vic, is depicted so blatantly as a willing observer of his wife's infidelities. In one of the film's earliest scenes, he shows curiosity but very little other emotion as he stalks his wife at a distance in the midst of her overt displays of cuckoldry. As the film progresses, however, it becomes clear that he is taking her behaviour very much less calmly than it initially appears. In fact, there are suggestions that Vic may have been going to murderous extremes to put an end to his wife's affairs.

This, unfortunately, is a confused and toothless affair. It fails to paint either a compelling or a realistic portrait of its protagonists' psychologies, and its story fails to stand up to the slightest level of scrutiny. There is also the fact that the premise does not pass muster; there is simply no reason for the couple to be married and even less reason for them to stay so. Added to this, the supporting characters are so under-written that it's a surprise to hear them speaking full sentences. Therefore, you essentially have a film devoid of any semblance of functional, rounded human beings or credible storytelling.

Without any characters to believe in, root for or particularly care about, with the possible exception of the married couple's daughter, Trixie (played by Grace Jenkins), and an absence of any plot elements that make sense we're left with partial nudity, sex scenes, salaciousness, and scandal to keep us stimulated. Ana de Armas is a beautiful woman and so the film has a certain amount of mileage to run with her objectification. Yet, there are no particularly memorable scenes of passion or eroticism that will animate any conversation around the water-cooler. Affleck's character is constantly scandalised, and there is a certain amount of perverse fascination in witnessing the extent of the humiliation he is willing to undergo. On top of this, there is that question which exists throughout most of the run-time: why do Melinda's boyfriends all seem to be coming to a bad end? And how much does Vic have to do with it? The film gives us the answer to this question unequivocally a fair while before it finishes. After that point the focus is simply on how ridiculous the film will become before it ends; the answer, unsurprisingly, is very.

There is a mild relevance to the film's subject matter in the wake of celebrity gossip concerning extra-marital affairs, particularly the way women are viewed for having them and the way men are viewed for tolerating them, but the movie is not interested in exploring any psychological or social themes in any level of depth. In summary, this effort presents a weak story which it tells in an uninspired fashion with the assistance of a beautiful leading lady and a competent leading male. If that sounds like your cup of tea, get pouring.

The Batman (2022)

Quite improbably, another incarnation of The Dark Knight that is able to genuinely tread new ground

[8/10 · 14 May 2022]

This third reboot of the stand-alone Batman series sees Robert Pattinson don the cape and cowl as he is called into action in the wake of a spate of high-profile murders of Gotham City's politicians. Each murder is orchestrated as a punishment to the victim but it is also designed to "unmask" the deeper corruption which has been taking place within the city, a corruption which may reach further and deeper than Gotham City's residents could ever have suspected.

Batman is intent upon apprehending the perpetrator, a man calling himself The Riddler (played by Paul Dano), but he also wishes to see exactly where this trail of corruption will lead. As a result, he is drawn deep into Gotham City's crime world where Carmine Falcone (played by John Turturro) reigns in the shadows. In his quest, Batman is both aided and diverted by a young woman named Selina Kyle (played by Zoe Kravitz), who has an ambiguous relationship with Carmine and her own reasons for wishing to expose him. The only person Batman can unreservedly trust is Lt. James Gordon (played by Jeffrey Wright), in a world mired in sleaze and dishonesty, Gordon is one of the few whose hands remain clean.

After watching the intense denouement of The Dark Knight Rises, the last thing I felt cinema required was a return to Gotham City. After all, hadn't we seen it all when it came to Batman? We'd had the pantomime parody of Adam West's portrayal. We'd had the fantastical gothic horror of Burton's world. We'd had the blockbuster goofiness of Joel Schumacher. And, finally, we'd had the intense, epic spectacle of Christopher Nolan's Batman series. What more could there be to do? Well, to his great credit, Matt Reeves has improbably managed to tread new ground by creating a film which is part art-house, part neo-noir detective story and part big-budget action film. It is an immersive and satisfying blend as it turns out.

The aspect that most separates The Batman from previous incarnations is how low-key it is. Gone is Hans Zimmer's intense musical flourishes and Wally Pfizter's vast, urban landscapes and in comes a downbeat, sinister soundtrack and a film shot in almost constant darkness. In this film, Batman exists amongst the shadows and he spends just as much time hidden under a motorcycle helmet as he does dressed as the Bat. Music ranging from Schubert to Nirvana helps to set the sombre tone of the film. Each character also has their own musical theme, ranging from sinister to intoxicating and helping to establish a particular mood around each of the protagonists.

On the topic of characters, the casting in this film is exceptional. Pattinson plays the Batman scenes effectively and, in portraying a psychologically wounded Bruce Wayne, draws on the shades of potential demonstrated by Michael Keaton's version of the character. In this film, Wayne is a reclusive misfit incapable of establishing meaningful relationships his incarnation as Batman, therefore, makes some sort of sense. Alongside this, Wright, Kravitz, Dano, an unrecognisable Farrell along with Andy Serkis (as Alfred Penniworth) each do wonders with the material they are given. Reeves makes the wise choice of selecting great character actors to surround Batman. Whereas in the Nolan films world-famous actors, such as Michael Caine, Liam Neeson and Morgan Freeman, essentially played versions of themselves, the actors here genuinely immerse themselves in their roles and create unique screen presences. I wish to reserve particular praise, however, for a resurgent John Turturro, who is just as unrecognisable as Farrell in his role but not because of prosthetics, rather due to his uncharacteristically menacing, Machiavellian energy. Playing very much against type in comparison to his classic '90s indie roles, Turturro's Carmine Falcone is the perfectly understated villain that this subtler addition to the Batman canon requires.

Another way in which this film differentiates itself is in the way that it focuses on story depth as opposed to the extreme showiness/improbability of previous Batman plots. The effect of this is that individual arcs are able to be carefully and convincingly linked into an overall narrative structure. That's not to say that there aren't moments in which the plot strays beyond the realms of plausibility, and that space isn't found for car chases, fight scenes, shoot-outs and all the other razzmatazz expected from a superhero blockbuster, but those moments are surprising rare in what is often a restrained and intelligent piece of story-telling. Case in point, we do not see the Batmobile nor do we see Batman use any of his traditional flying gadgets until over a third of the way through the movie.

The art direction is another area in which this film is a unique addition to the superhero genre. There is a genuine attempt by Reeves to put us into Batman's world and this is achieved via creative camera set-ups including cameras directly attached to heads and cars to provide a more intimate experience of the inner-world of the film's protagonists. One scene shot in darkness with intermittent gunfire is an example of a particularly memorable visual effect which also helps to heighten the intimacy of the film's atmosphere.

At three-hours long, the film does lag slightly in terms of pacing. This is partly caused by the decision to tag a high-spectacle ending onto the slow-burn detective action which had taken place before. There is a moment in the film when the main mysteries seem to have been uncovered and the story appears to be drawing to a close but then an addendum to the final act appears, which does feel somewhat out-of-step with the film's previous mood. Nonetheless, the final act does help to solidify the film's principal themes regarding the limitations of vengeance and the need to break down the barriers society has created between the privileged and the dispensable.

Focusing on that last point, The Batman probably treads its most important ground by drawing on the stark social themes apparent in the film Joker. Just as Joker tapped into genuine contemporary societal concerns, The Batman turns an eye to these too. It questions a society which is fueled on corruption and that does not value its citizens equally. This film is much more subtle than Joker in the way that it conveys its message but it provides a genuine platform for Batman to become something deeper than pure spectacle. A Batman movie, of course, will not, and no doubt should not, change society, but this film shows that a superhero movie can encapsulate a narrative and a tone which feels eerily relevant.

A splendid attention to the Batman canon then, Reeve's Batman does not contain the mesmeric and spectacular brilliance of Nolan's Batman series but its genius is in the fact that it doesn't even try to. Quite the opposite in fact, Reeves has rather impressively found a way to yet again reinvent the Batman universe and he does so with a compelling, engrossing and, at times, surprisingly relatable effort.

Joker (I) (2019)

The anti-hero's journey

[7/10 · 10 May 2022]

Following in the footsteps of Catwoman (2004) and Batman Begins (2005), Joker tells the origins story of one of the key figures from the Batman canon. We are introduced to Arthur Fleck (played by Joaquin Phoenix), a mentally ill man who has a very peculiar condition: in moments of extreme stress or discomfort he will break out into paroxysms of uncontrollable laughter. His disturbed psychological state and unnerving physical condition lead him to having problems finding employment or any sense of acceptance within mainstream society. Nevertheless, he harbours dreams of becoming a comedian.

However, the barriers to Arthur's success stem from both his inner struggles and the fact that Gotham City more generally seems to be reaching a point of crisis. Budget cuts mean that rubbish is piling up on the streets, and the threat of robbery and violence appears to be around every corner. In response, Thomas Wayne (played by Brett Cullen), a local billionaire, has anointed himself as the city's saviour and plans to run for the position as Gotham City's mayor. But the last thing the city apparently needs is an out-of-touch billionaire maintaining a colossal gap between the rich and the poor. Another hero is demanded, or, better yet, an anti-hero: someone who will burn down the entire structure in the hope that something better might emerge.

One of a very small number of films to take place within the Batman universe without featuring Batman himself, Joker more than makes up for the lack of the Dark Knight. This is because the film is an intense character study which is powered along by a sinister and hypnotic performance by Joaquin Phoenix. Phoenix's Joker is a man in pain. He suffers due to his mental illness but his suffering is compounded by the way in which he is abused and abandoned by society. Thus, we are presented with a surprisingly sympathetic portrayal of Batman's most famous adversary. Each step into murder and violence that Arthur takes is at least in some way a reaction to the misery, ridicule and violence that is inflicted upon him. He is a man who is beaten and broken by his surroundings to the point where he has nothing to lose and his decision to turn his ire against society, as opposed to against himself, is depicted with a cathartic heroism. The authentic misery and suffering Phoenix portrays through the character, complete with his skeletal figure, maniacally twisted features and dark, pain-filled stare, serve to intensify the heroism of his blood-soaked acts. This makes the film deeply subversive.

As well as heroifying violence and murder, the film overtly acts as a black mirror reflecting the political situation of our era. In today's world, the gap between the rich and the poor seems to be forever growing larger and many feel as if traditional political figures are no longer effective in these more challenging times. Those on the lowest incomes or in greatest need are increasingly feeling abandoned and ignored. Against this backdrop, the film acts as a stark warning to all those in society who have been able to prosper while so many have been plunged into destitution: a reckoning will arrive and "You will get what you deserve."

As a stark, disturbing character study the film functions extremely effectively. Phoenix is the film's centre but he is diligently framed in early scenes in wide-angled shots walking through empty streets and inside empty buildings, thereby heightening the protagonist's sense of isolation. Of course, the film notoriously borrows many of its techniques in this regard from Taxi Driver: another film about mental illness, societal disconnection and social isolation. However, although the film lacks originality in terms of its style and theme, it certainly does not in regards to its central performance.

The art direction is eye-catching while also being austere. Muted colours are used throughout helping to create the film's gritty, off-key mood. Joker is often filmed dancing in slow motion in a physical expression of both his triumph and pain. Darkness also appears at key times, particularly during the main subway scene, which heightens the nightmarish quality the film possesses.

The way in which the film includes elements of Batman lore while telling its protagonist's story is also a marvel to behold. Tom Wayne is a compelling, albeit minor, character. And we even get a scene with a very young Bruce Wayne. The dovetailing of the film's climax with an infamous aspect of Bruce Wayne's backstory is particularly skilfully achieved.

The above, then, detail the ways in which the film succeeds. There are, however, a number of issues with the movie. Going back to the concern with originality, it does often feel as if director Todd Phillips borrows a little too heavily from his idol Martin Scorcese. The Taxi Driver parallels are palpable but so is the profoundly obvious inspiration of The King of Comedy. All modern directors stand on the shoulders of giants but the line between homage and plagiarism feels as if it's being crossed on a number of occasions.

The extremely heavy reliance on Phoenix's performance does also mean that the film has pacing issues. The physicality of Phoenix's portrayal is fascinating but there are at least one too many scenes of his primal cavorting. A sub-plot regarding Fleck and a possible girlfriend is also ineffective and highly predictable and should have been abandoned before the final cut.

But the biggest problem with the film is the way in which it communicates its overall "message". It is presented to the viewer with the subtlety of a rocket-propelled mallet smashing into one's skull. The film is so obviously a canvass for justified debauchery that it blunts the political points that it seemingly wishes to make. There is value to not making your intentions so obvious. Phoenix has the ability to show so much, whereas the script, time and time again, resorts to megaphone-operated bellowing.

Overall, this is an at times mesmeric experience which will disturb, repulse and revolt in equal measure. It also provides an uncomfortably realistic glimpse into the mind of an ill and abused individual. On top of this, the film is a miraculous effort in that it demonstrates that such levels of character depth and overall stillness can belong to the comic-book universe. But the lack of restraint in key moments and the failure to build on the inspiration of iconic films, as opposed to simply borrowing from them, means that this film falls short of achieving genuine greatness.