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.

12 Years a Slave

What can one say about 12 Years A Slave, that the title and reviews have not already said? This is a disturbing representation of twelve years in the life of Solomon Northup, a free African American ripped from his comfortable life by slavers, and sold into bondage in the deep south.

Of course, it's a film everyone should see, but it's not a pleasant experience, perhaps because it is so utterly raw. As depicted here, Solomon is not a hero. It's possible he became one, later, in the years he spent campaigning for the abolition of slavery, involved in the underground railroad, and authoring the book which became the basis of the film - but in these twelve years, he's at first attempting to explain, and then merely to survive. Of course he is, otherwise he would have been killed, and his story would never have been told.

The most powerful force in the film is the utter helplessness of Solomon's situation. He's a strong, independent man, used to the friendship of his neighbours and the ability to make his own decisions. He's not meant to be there - but no one will hear him, and even if they did, how can he justify his identity making him more deserving than his fellow slaves? His moral quandaries and natural spirit result in an horrific sequence which neatly juxtaposes daily atrocities with daily life.

Finally, an end comes - again made more powerful by how extremely pared back it is: there's no outcry, no procession, and as we find out in the end titles, no prosecution - a conclusion which jarrs with our notion of what is due to Solomon, and a brave choice, in keeping with the difficult tone of the film.

Praise has been heaped on 12 Years a Slave, and its many wins during awards season have attested to the reaction it provokes, but it's almost impossible to deconstruct whether that's due to the artistry of the film, or the issues it so well presents. Inflamed opinions make it somewhat dangerous even to try, but I do agree it is essential viewing.

Everyone should feel guilty, watching this film. Not for collusion in the oppression of Solomon Northup in Louisiana nearly two hundred years ago, but because this still happens. There are human beings being exploited around the world today, their lives made a misery for profit they will never share in: and all of us are still walking past, with our heads down, to avoid becoming targets ourselves.

I can't think of another film like 12 Years A Slave. There simply isn't one - this is no Lincoln, or Django Unchained. I am sure the reasons there are not more American films about slavery are myriad, and all of them contentious. However, should you wish something to compare with 12 Years A Slave, try The Pianist, which delves in to the dire situation of a young Polish musician caught in the Holocaust, and provides a bleak examination of what it means to beat the odds, and what it costs to survive.

Philomena

An emotional British/Irish drama directed by Stephen Frears, based on a heartbreaking true story, and featuring Judi Dench in the title role, the film adaptation of Philomena was destined for attention.  And it is a solid enough drama, worth a watch - it's just that the film is so clearly less valuable than its components, the combination of which ensured it was catapulted into awards contention anyway.

That's not to say Philomena doesn't give you a giggle or encourage a few tears while uncovering a story which deserves to be told, but it does beg the question: what story is it trying to tell? A number of important issues, worthy of exploration, are thrown up in the course of Philomena's journey to find her long-lost son - yet the film skims over them. At times it seems the story is guided by the emotive Oscar nominated score, rather than the other way around.

The culture clash between sweet, disenfranchised Philomena and the arrogant journalist, Sixsmith, is played out for laughs, rather than a lingering symptom of the class system which is partly responsible for Philomena's troubles in the first place. A meal is made out of Sixsmith's emotional growth, but said 'growth' boils down to scenes of him tolerating conversation he doesn't enjoy and the massive sacrifice of deciding (twice!) to accede to Philomena's wishes, which (twice!) she's naturally already aligned to match his. Not much of an evolution.

Wrapped at the core of the film is fact that women and children were treated extremely badly by institutions like the Catholic Church, which ruined lives and created tragedies under the guise of helping the vulnerable. But the Church does not have a monopoly on causing pain: the ongoing efforts of these mothers and their children to find each other should certainly be recognised, as should human rights abuses all around the world.

The difference in this story, and where the film could have elevated itself on its own merits, is the attitude of Philomena Lee to her personal experience. She comes to a conclusion stunning in its simplicity, which could have been the whole point of the film - but it's wasted, the important moment immediately numbed by cheap emotion, then comedic babble. It's hard not to be cross with a film which could have been even better than its reputation, but which, despite laughing at pop culture, still chose commercial sentimentality over considered reflection.

Another well-regarded film based on a true story and featuring Judi Dench is Iris, a love story through life, which is not an easy watch, but features superlative performances from four fantastic actors all at their very best. Co-starring Jim Broadbent in an Oscar-winning role, supported by Kate Winslet and Hugh Bonneville.

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.

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.

Trainspotting (1996)

Directed by Danny Boyle

Written by John Hodge

From the novel by Irvine Welsh

Seen on DVD

***

Occasionally a film becomes so part of popular consciousness it defines the decade for those of the relevant age. Trainspotting was that seminal film for those of us leaving high school in the late nineties. Although we were too young to catch it on first release, having seen it gave you instant street-cred, and the poster on your wall was a marker of edgy cool.

A grungy film about drug addicts, with a legendary gross-out toilet scene? I wasn’t really interested, except for the hype - if that many people were talking about it, it was a film that had to be seen sooner or later. Obviously, I chose later. Coming across it on the comedy shelf of the DVD store fourteen years after its release finally made me give it a go.

Mark Renton is a wiry, shaven-headed young heroin addict, with a disparate bunch of mates, most also hooked on various drugs. Following Renton through several attempts to get clean, it becomes apparent his slips are caused by the bizarre code of honour binding him to his so-called friends. Even when seeing them for what they really are, he’s drawn back in, unable to shake his obligations to them.

This sense of honour makes Renton’s journey interesting, but it also makes his eventual break from the group more shocking. Although cheering for him to “choose life,” as the film’s tagline goes, his traitorous turn leaves me questioning whether he has really triumphed. Having kicked the habit, and his friends, has Renton really become a better person? Was his characteristic loyalty the price he had to pay, and what sort of person is he going to make without it?

This central, intriguing point is in part supported by the realistically sad stories which affect Renton: the straight friend getting sucked in and consumed by drugs, the tragic baby, the squalor, and the measures everyone must take to ensure constant supply of their drug – but somehow the circus of activity, comic filthiness, and humorous tirades make the important points incidental nuance rather than the focus of the story. This is essential if trying to brand an urban horror tale a comedy, and Danny Boyle’s creative, fast-paced direction and fantastic soundtrack choice show his intention to entertain rather than reflect.

A spectacular performance as Renton catapulted Ewan McGregor into stardom. Robert Carlyle is often singled out from the rest of the group for his portrayal of the psychotic Begbie, and he certainly had fun with the rich stories his over-the-top character wielded. As an ensemble the gang have deservedly gone down in history, and the movie remains a defining moment in British film.

Trainspotting was not McGregor and Boyle’s first movie together, it was just the one that made them famous. Just starting out in their careers, two years earlier McGregor acted in Boyle’s Shallow Grave. A twisted little thriller, it managed to just miss the mark in some indefinable way, but it’s an excellent watch.

Holiday Inn (1942)

Directed by Mark Sandrich
Written by Claude Binyon, Elmer Rice
With music and lyrics by Irving Berlin

Seen on DVD

** 1/2

Holiday Inn has its place in film canon, but the film itself doesn’t merit it. It’s fluff, and not even particularly good fluff, compared to the stellar offerings of the period. Trivial and lacking in heart, the story barely hangs together, and though it’s dripping with supposedly charming situations, they are unconvincing and the characters unlovable.

Normally sparkling Fred Astaire plays Ted Hanover, dancer extraordinaire and show biz partner of singer Jim Hardy, (Bing Crosby.) The two are in constant competition to prove more talented and a bigger hit with the ladies. Ted settles it, and causes their break-up, by winning the affections of their co-star from under her fiancée Jim’s nose, and Jim bows out of show business for a quiet rural life.

Finding farm work tougher than anticipated, Jim launches an inn with a gimmick: it will open only on holidays, and feature musical performances themed for the occasion. Rapidly falling in love with Linda, his shop-girl-turned-hostess collaborator, Jim looks set: until Ted turns up, single again, and (surprise!) discovers Linda is his perfect partner as well. In a blink the two are up to their old tricks, each trying to win her as their partner on stage – and in life.

By unplugging your brain, it’s possible to find Holiday Inn entertaining, but it can’t be called inoffensive. We are expected to believe any and all women must fall head over heels for two men who care more about their game of one-up-man-ship than they do about the woman they profess to love. Crosby and Astaire walk through their roles, coming alive only when performing - Astaire's solo tap-dance is a real cracker. The female characters are passed around, treated as possessions to be won or lost, barely granted their own free will, and neither they nor the men so in love with them show the slightest sign of real passion.

There’s also a number done in blackface, ostensibly necessary to the plot for reasons of disguise. Although cringe-making these days, such performances were common in at the time, and the scene’s recent removal from American television broadcasts of the film has caused much debate.

In spite of its many failings, Holiday Inn is a remarkable piece of history, for the music which inspired it and the trivia surrounding it. The film includes a strange little insert of patriotism and munitions factories, which doesn’t mesh at all until you realise Pearl Harbour was attacked when the picture was filming and overnight, America stepped into World War II. The film's name lives on in the small hotel chain which became a global empire, but perhaps its most lasting legacy is one little song, overlooked on first release, which won the Oscar for Best Original Song in 1942, and went on to become the best selling single of all time: “White Christmas.”


If you’re after exceptional musical comedy, check out Fred and Ginger setting the stage afire in Top Hat, instead. Lighter than air, it’s a farcical case of mistaken identity and true love filled with magnificent dance numbers and brilliant performances from a star-studded cast.

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas (2008)

Directed by Mark Herman
Written by John Boyne, from the novel by Mark Herman

***

In the middle of WWII, Bruno’s father, a soldier of the Third Reich, accepts a promotion.  The family leaves Berlin for his new post, and eight-year-old Bruno begins exploring immediately.  He soon discovers there is a settlement nearby, but his questions about the inhabitants are met with strange bans: the back garden is immediately forbidden him, and windows with views of the “farm” are boarded over.

All a child knows is what he’s told, and with jarring regularity, Bruno’s innocent questions are met with attempts to mould him according to Nazi doctrine.  His sister laps up the propaganda, while Bruno’s spirit of inquiry is attacked or circumvented.  He begins to doubt whether the adults really know what they’re talking about when he makes a new friend, a boy who wears striped pyjamas…

This lush production is beautifully photographed, and boasts excellent performances from the two young leads and David Thewlis, who as Bruno’s father turns from friendly, loving dad to repugnant, murdering fascist in the blink of an eye.  Lovingly made with meticulous attention to detail, it’s an interesting (and very British) attempt to show the way our minds are shaped in childhood.

Unfortunately, the film confuses its heavy message, relying on emotional manipulation and a dramatic, contrived ending, escalated by a deafening score to further ram home its significance.  The tumultuous events regrettably move the focus away from the most significant point of the film: that Bruno cannot understand the damaging adult ideas presented to him.

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas is slightly wide of the mark, but it’s still worth a watch.  Concentrate on the behaviour of the characters and the reasons why Bruno’s questions are so disturbing, and you’ll feel the full, chilling weight behind his friendly observation: “We’re not supposed to be friends, you and me.  We’re supposed to be enemies.”

This review was originally written for an online magazine, and is republished with permission. 

Jinx Sister

Written and directed by Athina Tsoulis

**** 1/2

Laura knows she’s jinxed.  She’s always surrounded by trouble, and people who get close to her have habit of dying.  Ten years ago she fled to America, but her glamorous new life hasn’t turned out to be the release she expected.

Rapidly unravelling and realising the only place left to run is back home, she’s soon facing her demons in the multicultural suburban blur of south Auckland.

Laura’s journey ties all the characters together, so the film stands on Sara Wiseman’s sympathetic portrayal of her.  Wiseman imbues Laura with a sense of fragility, creating a creating a character you can’t help feeling for, even as she lashes out against her friends and family.

This is that rare film in which all the characters feel like real people, rather than cardboard cut-out supporting acts.  Rachel Nash turns in a standout performance as Mairie, Laura’s long neglected sister, as does Jarod Rawiri, as Sam, ex-con with a heart of gold.  Writer/director Athina Tsoulis describes the cast as “a dream team” and the results are certainly up there on screen.

Although Jinx Sister is at times a sad story, a deft comical touch and dashes of optimism keep it from being tragic.  Tsoulis called time on dark cinema, saying: “Films where the protagonist descends into hell have lost their appeal, and I wanted an ending that… was one of hope.”

It’s a local film with a huge heart, and earned the home-grown label in the truest sense – made with virtually no budget and relying on the generosity of the small cast and crew, the filmmakers discovered their “renegade” shoot ultimately freed them in many ways.

A true blue kiwi film, JinxSister is filled with local humour and accents, and there are plenty of laughs along the way as we recognise just how well we’ve been captured on camera.  It’s an emotional ride, but it’s a very satisfying one.

This review was originally written for an online magazine, and is republished with permission.

Rain of the Children (2008)

Written and directed by Vincent Ward

*****

There are several adjectives impossible to avoid when attempting to describe Vincent Ward’s latest film.  Compelling is one, gripping another.  Perhaps most apt is haunting – this is an utterly absorbing, unforgettable and entirely New Zealand story of love, loss and survival across a tumultuous time in our history.

At the centre of the film is Puhi, a bent old woman of the Tuhoe iwi, who welcomed the then twenty one year old Ward into her remote home back in 1978.  Over the course of two years, he filmed her daily life for his award winning documentary on traditional Maori life, In Spring One Plants Alone.

Puhi died soon after he finished the documentary, but Ward never forgot the charismatic woman who called him her mokopuna mā (white grandchild.)  Sparked by his recollections of Puhi and thirty years worth of unanswered questions about her life, middle-aged Ward goes back to her home in the Uruwera ranges, aiming to uncover her story.

Blending footage from his original film, new interviews, fact finding missions and highly dramatic re-enactments in what he describes as “part folk tale, part ballad, part mystery story,” Ward creates a cinematically beautiful and at times dreamlike patchwork of fact, fiction, stories handed down and the opinions of those who remember Puhi - “the special one.”

Ward’s detective work is captivating, each answer begging another question about this singular woman.  Who was Puhi?  Why did she cling so strongly to her mentally ill adult son?  And why did she believe she was cursed?

The filmmaker behind Vigil, Map of the Human Heart and What Dreams May Come is no stranger to very human, emotional stories – but this is really something different, touted as “Vincent Ward’s most personal feature to date.”  In a tribute to Puhi and his treasured memories of her, Ward appears on camera and narrates the film, a touch which cements Rain of the Children as something very special from an already unique filmmaker.

Heartbreakingly sad, yet by turns enchanting, funny and endearing, this is a slice of a very different kind of life, leaving the audience with the conviction that there is nothing so extraordinary as the life lived by an ordinary woman.

This review was originally written for an online magazine, and is republished with permission.