Django Unchained

In nineteenth century Texas, an eccentric German traveller buys a slave to assist in finding a band of outlaws. Django is amazed to find a mentor in Schultz, and the men continue as partners before setting out on a mission to rescue Django's wife from slavers in Mississippi.  I can't explain why I hadn't yet seen Django Unchained - any trepidation about Tarantino films always seems to melt away in enjoyment from about the second frame, and this is no exception.

The ultimate blaxploitation western thriller buddy movie, Django Unchained might be ridiculously long, but because it's equal parts sheer joy, comedic over-dramatisation, and schlock horror, it's hard to mind much.  In his usual mocking tone, Tarantino manages to censure the violence of slavery and the mindset of pro-slavers, even as his hero commits atrocities in the name of freedom.

It's not possible to separate Tarantino from the beautifully stylised gore which immerses his films - and perhaps now no one would want to - but it's worth noting he has also become a master of cinematic beauty, frequently collaborating with the same production designers and cinematographers to turn out increasingly incredible images.  The detailed mis-en-scène, matched with spot-on dialogue and enthusiastically motivated performances from all cast, makes for touches of absolute brilliance and ensures you always know whose film you're watching.

Django Unchained is another well-realised entertainment piece from one of America's greatest auteurs, who's obviously telling us we ain't seen nothin' yet.

Though a hard-core Tarantino fan may find it seriously lacking in violence, Blazing Saddles addresses serious issues of racism and corruption with a similar style of over-the-top silliness. This is an heroic tale of a newly appointed Sheriff encouraging townsfolk who'd be happy to lynch him to stand up against a corrupt railways mogul, instead.

Meek's Cutoff (2010)

Directed by Kelly Reichardt 

Written by Jonathan Raymond

Stephen Meek is guiding three couples across wild, untamed and unmapped Oregon in 1845, the earliest days of westward expansion.  When we meet them, the disillusioned settlers are wondering whether Meek is lost, or if he lied to them in claiming his alternative route, Meek's Cutoff, would be more direct and safer from Indian attack than the valleys of the Oregon Trail.

Deliberately joining the wagons in the midst of their journey and leaving before they arrive at any destination, this isn't some Hollywood story of triumphant pioneers overcoming hardship.  Instead, Meek's Cutoff is a slow examination of trust and betrayal in people on the edge of reason, trapped in an inhospitable, alien landscape, filled with fear and doubtful as to whether they'll survive.

I imagine this was a film to have seen in the cinema, where the big screen and enforced stillness would have aided the subtle, low contrast, lingering shots and creeping feeling of isolation - despite the chosen 4:3 aspect ratio no longer being considered truly cinematic by most audiences.  Unfortunately in this case, translation to a smaller screen meant a loss of detail and immediacy, and for me, a tendency to fall out of the film too easily.

In a way, Meek's Cutoff is a brilliant behind the scenes B-roll of pioneer journeys - a realistic portrayal of the privations undergone on the incomprehensibly arduous wagon trains, but as a contemplative look at complex human emotions and loyalties, I felt a little under-directed, a little lost.  It's entirely possible that was the point.

Also based on a true story, Into the Wild examines a completely different pioneer spirit: an American college graduate in the early 1990s who removed himself from society and disappeared into the wilds of Alaska. His attempt to throw off modern societal constructs and live his own way are thought-provoking, the film (reviewed on this blog here,) is beautifully made, and still haunts me.

Parade's End

Set in early twentieth century England, during possibly the greatest period of change in modern times, Parade's End follows young gentleman Christopher Tietjens, struggling to uphold his exacting moral standards against a developing love triangle and a rapidly industrialising world.

The British are exceedingly good at nostalgic representations and adaptations of their own history, looking to the past in remembrance of a better, more noble time, and that melancholic mood is perfectly encapsulated in Parade's End.  The beautifully paced narrative and a lingering camera allow the viewer time to think, which rewards an audience engaged with the characters rather than indulging passive viewing.

The central love story hangs on three very different types, each brought to life in a nuanced performance.  Sylvia, played by Rebecca Hall, is a tempestuous, adulterous society woman, far brighter than many of the men she toys with for amusement, but for propriety yoked to a husband she cannot at first respect.  Valentine, (Adelaide Clemens,) only a few years younger, has the advantage of education rather than breeding, and dares to have ambitions beyond the home and political opinions of her own - yet of the two, she's the naive romantic.  Anchoring the story is Christopher, masterfully portrayed by Benedict Cumberbatch as the very essence of the stiff upper lip, determined to preserve the parade of nobility despite damaging consequences, even his own impending ruin.

The small scale of their story is set against the sweeping change which characterised the period.  A variety of supporting players force choices and loyalties, taking the story by turns to epic heights and farcical lows through the pre war years to the large-scale destruction of The Great War, which serves as the ultimate symbol of the clash between old and new.

As an incredibly well designed, beautifully shot and gorgeously costumed extravaganza, Parade's End deservedly joins the ranks of classic costume dramas, but to my mind it's the haunting themes which have made it such compelling viewing.

Parade's End featured several outstanding comic moments - did you also love the wry scene in which a frustrated Tietjens, attempting to outfit his troops, is given the run-around by the War Office?  For a whole patchwork of bureaucratic nonsense, try the abrupt change of pace demanded by the film adaptation of Joseph Heller's WWII masterpiece, Catch 22 - a wholly comedic yet entirely heartbreaking illustration of the futility of war.

The Lost Weekend

Handsome, up-and-coming writer Don Birnam is being taken away for the weekend, but at the last minute, manages to dodge his attentive girlfriend and long-suffering brother.  The people who care about him out of the way, The Lost Weekend belongs to Don's true love: alcohol.

With a screenplay adapted from Charles R. Jackson's semi-autobiographical novel and Billy Wilder directing, The Lost Weekend became a smash hit, despite its formerly taboo subject - and it has stood the test of time remarkably well.

The success is in large part due to the film's uncompromising take on an alcoholic's behaviour.  Brilliantly portrayed by Ray Milland in an Oscar-winning performance, Don is a man broken by his desire for liquor and willing to go to any lengths for a drink - yet his descent into cunning manipulation, petty thievery and thuggery never becomes silly or mawkish, and the use of stylised monologues and flashbacks to allow the audience access to his thoughts is clever, without being melodramatic.

Barely striking a false note, (the exception perhaps being the film's slightly suspect but understandable conclusion,) The Lost Weekend was something quite different for Wilder, but as the Best Director, Actor, Adapted Screenplay, and Best Picture Oscars attested, it was exceedingly well done.

For crazed, comedic, and darkly melancholic take on addiction, look no further than cult 80's film Withnail & I.  Withnail and his roommate are actors struggling for recognition, living in a scuzzy flat and abusing any substance that comes their way.  Featuring an utterly electrifying performance from Richard E. Grant as the self-destructive Withnail.

Ordinary People

A must-watch due to its pedigree as the winner of Best Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay and Supporting Actor at the 1981 Academy Awards, I hadn't actually any idea what Ordinary People was about until reading the synopsis on the case.  It was with a slight sense of dread I wondered what I was letting myself in for, but I was rewarded with something subtly remarkable.

Robert Redford's directorial debut is a quiet drama, packed with explosive moments.  Pacing slowly through the opening, Ordinary People allows the audience to piece together its subject matter one strained conversation or nightmare flashback at a time, until it's apparent we're exploring a changed family dynamic after a tragic death.

Naturally, it's emotional, but the authentic tone and sensitive handling avoids melodrama or sentimentality.  The characters truly are ordinary, next door types, (albeit in a very nice neighbourhood!) with real worries and problems, ripped apart by their differing ways of dealing with their grief.

Delving into the ways they handle their feelings and examining guilt, avoidance, over-compensation, openness and deflection, Ordinary People takes place in a time when it wasn't "nice" to talk about your problems, and brings to the fore the need for communication, even when it's hard to talk.  A brilliant take on grief and depression.

If Ordinary People looks at grief and communication amongst teens and adults, sweetly nostalgic Stand By Me does the same for children.  Again, it's the loss of an older brother overshadowing the story, but in this case, it's twelve-year-old Gordie's friends who pull him through.

To Sir, With Love

Set at a tough high school in London's East End, at the tail end of the swinging sixties, To Sir, With Love is tagged as heavy-hitting social drama.  It stars Sidney Poitier as a out of work engineer who takes a temporary teaching post to tide himself over, and singer Lulu, as one of the class, performs a soaring theme song of adolescent angst and gratitude.

I was amused to find the film much less dramatic than I had expected.  That's not to say it doesn't address tough issues - it does, and they are still current, the characters negotiating violence, racism, sex, poverty, and death, as well as the difficulty of being taken seriously by adults.  The issues of growing up, then, haven't changed much since 1967 - but the behaviour presented as so shocking is sweetly dated - the dreadful teens seemed to me almost sweet by today's standards!

However, this is a film with great heart, and Poitier's teacher-turned-advisor gaining the respect of his class, giving wayward youths lashing out against their own helplessness a sense of personal responsibilty, and even provoking change in a fairly reactionary community, is a lovely thing to watch.

A good teacher - student relationship can be hugely important in a teenager's life.  That relationship in Half Nelson begins when a troubled student discovers her charismatic young teacher struggles with a drug addiction.  A deft blend of social commentary, sensitive performances and hopeful spirit.

District 9 (2009)

Directed by Neill Blomkamp

Written by Neill Blomkamp and Terri Tatchell

****

District 9 caused a furore on release.  Prawns.  A new look at xenophobia and racism.  Catfood.  Peter Jackson throwing his weight behind an up-and-coming auteur.  Oscar nominations.  It seemed like everyone was queuing up to praise former animator Neill Blomkamp’s first feature film.

So I’m a lot late to the party, but allow me onto the bandwagon: it is pretty awesome – a well executed and original concept, an alien movie set not around the White House, but the slums of South Africa, raising all sorts of questions whilst still providing a story and enough alien versus human interaction to satisfy the sci-fi, thriller and splatter fans.

Interestingly, the filmmakers say they did not set out to make a political film – but they have.  It may be satisfying entertainment, but the film is intrinsically political fare.  A story of separation and subjugation set in the place which formed the bedrock of apartheid couldn’t just be art, or irony: it’s a statement and invitation to reflect.

The subversion of accepted entertainment norms is possibly the most interesting aspect of that statement.  Innate human vanity usually casts our race as the oppressed, valiantly fighting against a more advanced and better-equipped foe bent on exterminating us.  Conversely, in this case of interplanetary aggression the aliens are refugees, washing up powerless in Earth’s skies, unable to prevent themselves being forced into isolated prison camps which become smaller and more squalid the longer their stay on earth.

Unsurprisingly there are culture clashes, exploitation, and uprisings amongst the marginalized, and we are forced to look at a few hard truths.  The harsher the humans become, the less the aliens care about hurting them, ensuring a continuing cycle of hostility – and then the film intensifies, establishing more than interplanetary violence, with a grimly realistic progression to groups of humans fighting each other for possession of unmasterable alien weaponry.

The threads of the story weave authenticity in with the big bangs and excellent CGI the genre demands.  Greed overtakes the desire for a solution, fear causes civil rights abuses, the possibility of technological advance trumps basic humanity, and violence escalates until direct orders are disobeyed and the only answer is to grab a stronger weapon.  District 9 is a magnificent debut, a thoughtful film in disguise, and with an open ending setting up the franchise, Blomkamp’s future in the ranks of Blockbuster-capable writer/directors seems assured.

Were you interested in District 9’s social commentary? For a chilling story of inhuman and escalating violence so severe the perpetrators seem more alien than human, attempt the utterly terrifying documentary-style Gomorrah, based on actual stories of the Neapolitan mafia.

Out of the Blue (2006)

Directed by Robert Sarkies

Written by Graeme Tetley and Robert Sarkies

*****

Aramoana is a statement word, now – a place name tied to tragedy in New Zealand’s public consciousness.  The events of those November days in 1990 remain the worst mass murder in our country’s history, yet at the time it was just “the pathway to the sea,” a small, sleepy township at the mouth of Otago Harbour.

Robert Sarkies’ sensitive and immensely powerful second feature film Out of the Blue takes us back to innocent, seemingly idyllic times, then drags us through the shocking ordeal.  Based on Bill O’Brien’s book, Aramoana: 22 Hours of Terror, this isn’t a complete shot-by-shot chronicle, nor is it a slick, sensationalised thriller.  Instead, by focussing on how the residents, including the gunman, react to the unthinkable, Sarkies has created a layered portrait of the everyday turned upside down under extreme pressure.

The beautiful landscape and vignettes of ordinary life in the community leave us completely unprepared for what is about to happen, even though history has already filled in the ending.  As the pressure within increasingly paranoid David Gray builds up, you still wish for anything, anyone, to reach out in time to stop him.  Detachedly taking his reponse to what he is doing into account as much as the reactions of those he is terrorising makes the film all the more upsettingly realistic: this is not clear-cut fiction, it is real life, and begs the question “what would you do?”

With incredibly poetic cinematography and extremely fine performances, Out of the Blue is able to lay out the tragic chain of events in real terms, showing people doing the best they can to cope with the situation they’re in, whether that be comforting a wounded stranger, crawling through ditches for help, creeping through smoke-filled darkness looking for a madman with a gun who’s already killed neighbours and friends, or lashing out in an attempt to keep the world from persecuting you.  Stunning, in all senses of the word.

For a similarly potent, non-moralising look at issues of mental health and gun control, see Gus Van Sant’s dream-like Elephant, an exploration of youth culture, alienation, and violence culminating in the Columbine High School massacre in the United States.

The Hopes & Dreams of Gazza Snell

Directed by Brendan Donovan

Written by Brendan Donovan and David Brechin-Smith

***

Howick teenager Mark is a champion go-karter, with pipsqueak younger brother Ed hot on his tail.  Enthusiastic dad Gazza is their coach, mechanic, bankroll and support team, and determined that Mark’s talent should get him on the track to formula one racing in Europe.

But when tragedy strikes the Snell family, their united front crumbles.  Drifting apart in a string of blame, misunderstandings, and mishandled situations, everyone has something to hide.

I still feel guilty for not supporting The Hopes & Dreams of Gazza Snell during its cinema run, but that says something in itself: watching a petrol-fuelled melodrama just did not appeal to me, even if it was local product.  When the DVD was released, my homework was set, and I was relieved to find things to enjoy.

Donovan’s debut feature was filmed in East Auckland, and as a slice of Howick life it succeeds admirably: the landmarks, stereotypes and humour are all true to form, and probably the most appealing thing about the film.  The supporting cast have some excellent material to work with, and if the subplots are a little unfocussed, it is only because the film is rich with detail and trying to say too much.

The first-time actors and real-life brothers playing the Snell boys are both fantastic, although given their extreme dissimilarity to their screen parents I was wondering if an adoption subplot would unwind.  Joel Tobeck deftly walks the fine line between hero and villain as a trusted family friend, and Robyn Malcolm gives her all as the long suffering Gail, at the end of her tether with irresponsible Gazza.

Which is where it all falls down.  As far as problems go, an unlikeable title character trumps all.  Gazza is a dreamer, an adult who needs to grow up and address what his hopes and dreams should really be – but instead of roguish and blokey, he comes across selfish, boorish, and destructive.  The antics which I assume were meant to provoke a laugh of recognition instead had me hoping Gazza would lose everything, just to serve him right.

The Hopes & Dreams of Gazza Snell has largely been an audience pleaser, to those who have made the effort to see it, and any Kiwi looking for their stories on the big screen will find something worth watching.  Donovan has a unique voice, as proven with his two Insider’s Guide television series, and although he hasn’t quite hit the mark here I will be looking out for his next film.

Keen on cars?  Try a modern Kiwi classic - Florian Habicht’s acclaimed feature length documentary Kaikohe Demolition follows colourful local characters through a year’s demolition derbies in the far north.  It’s packed with flavour, humour and car wrecks, and full of cheeky charm.

Into the Wild (2007)

Written and directed by Sean Penn

From the book by Jon Krakauer

***** 

A raw, inspiring and ultimately tragic true story, sensitively adapted for the screen, beautifully shot and accented with haunting original songs, Into the Wild was the hit of the festival circuit the year of its release.

Pieces of story are puzzled together to focus on Christopher Johnson McCandless, a bright young graduate of a prestigious university, the toast of his parents and adored by his younger sister. Troubled under his pretence of normality, Chris pulls a disappearing act, shucking off the constraints of society and hitting the road in search of the greater meaning of life.

Travelling through beautiful landscapes, placed in front of the viewer like canvases, Emile Hirsch plays livewire Chris thoughtfully and with great energy. A mix of profundity and young man’s egotism, Chris chooses the alias Alexander Supertramp and journeys where the mood takes him. He tests himself against the elements and new experiences, aiming to see and taste all he can. People are incidental to his journey, and although he had a deep impact on many of the characters he met, he was always able to separate himself from them in pursuit of something larger.

Poetically narrated from both the perspective of Chris, the escapee, and his sister Carine (Jena Malone,) representing those he left behind, the film delves into the ways people make sense of life. The two story strands weave together, making piercing observations so startling they seem the most extreme truth and clearest message we’ve ever heard.

Carried along on Chris’s journey, we glory in the outdoors as he does, and an episode stopping off in LA helps us understand him – after the wide open spaces, free from constraint, the city feels like a trap, the fake smiling faces of its willing prisoners reminding him of his need to escape. Alaska becomes his ultimate goal, and when he enters the wilds and makes his final discoveries we are happy for him, and though touched, can almost forget to be concerned.

Into the Wild is a magnificent watch, concentrated without being heavily laid out, an astounding debut from the always introspective Sean Penn. Eddie Veder’s songs perfectly tap into the themes of the story, and the glorious photography of incredible locations transport us the rest of the way. Highly recommended.