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.

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.

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.

Man on Wire

Directed by James Marsh

*****

In today’s suspicious climate, you’d be forgiven for thinking this story pure fiction: a group of shaggy-haired bohemians sneak inside two high profile, high security (and just plain high) American buildings with nearly a tonne of equipment, then spend the night setting it up, without getting caught?

Yet Philippe Petit and his intrepid gang managed exactly this in August 1974.  Their target was the almost completed World Trade Center, and the story has an added twist: the aim of the mission was nothing more sinister than secretly rigging a heavy cable between the Twin Towers, so wire-walker Petit could risk his life dancing 104 stories above New York City.

Dubbed the “artistic crime of the century”, the most astonishing thing is that they pulled it off.  Weaving together archive footage and interviews with the collaborators, Man On Wire is the energetic account of their feat.  We follow the poetically explosive Petit on his quest from its conception, through time spent honing his skills as a street performer, to the stunning conclusion.

Complete with spy-movie soundtrack, this is more like a crime caper than a documentary.  The meticulous planning, hilarious reconnaissance escapades, hair’s breadth escapes, complications and relationship breakdowns are showcased as Petit and his co-conspirators describe the adventure and its attendant fears.  Gathering pace, the tale hurtles towards the poignant climax: images of Petit lying on the wire between the towers, over four hundred metres above the street.  Even the police sent to bring him down were spellbound as he danced on the wire, evading capture for 45 minutes.

This is an utterly enthralling tale about a true character, who inspired his team with his relentless pursuit of the ambition he could not explain afterwards: “I do something magnificent and mysterious, and they ask me why?”  An absolute must see.

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

Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Written and directed by Woody Allen

*****

Best friends Vicky and Cristina arrive in Barcelona for the summer.  As is often the way, the two are total opposites: goal-oriented Vicky (Rebecca Hall) is due to marry her fiancée Doug when they get back to America, but in the meantime throws herself into a study of the Catalan culture for her masters thesis.  Creative dreamer Cristina (Scarlett Johansen) is hoping to use the time to figure out what to do with her life, which has so far been defined by a series of failed artistic experiments.

When Cristina flirtatiously throws them into the path of sexy local painter Juan Antonio, (Javier Bardem,) things heat up, causing tension when they both succumb to his charms.  Vicky fights the attraction and moves up her wedding, while Cristina pursues passion and moves in with him.  Cue Juan’s estranged wife, the charismatic Maria Elena, who’s none too pleased to see someone taking her place…

All the hallmarks of vintage Woody Allen films are present and correct in the writer/director’s latest offering – naturalistic, even awkward dialogue, conflicted characters, and sharp insights into human nature – but it’s also got that sparkle his most recent films have lacked.  Barcelona is a stunning backdrop to a story by turns raunchy and comic, the three leads are spot on, and Penelope Cruz puts in an explosive performance as deranged genius Maria Elena, utterly deserving her Oscar nomination for the role.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona is full of flavour and giggles, the ideal start for a girls' night out.  It’s going to spark plenty of debate, so follow it up with a large glass of wine and hours of gossip and relationship analysis.  Perfect!

4 months, 3 weeks & 2 days

Written and directed by Cristian Mungiu

****

How far would you go for your friends?  The question’s almost a cliché now, but 4 months, 3 weeks & 2 days (4 luni, 3 saptamâni si 2 zile) brings new meaning to devoted.

Set in 1987, in the “Golden Age” of Ceauşescu’s communist Romania, the film spans a momentous day in the lives of two female students in Bucharest.  Meek young Gabriela is in trouble, and she’s booked an abortion, but the illegal procedure incurs heavy punishment if you’re caught.

Looking for help, she confides in her roommate Otilia, who takes pity on her desperate friend and throws herself into preparations.  In the course of the day, Otilia overcomes unforeseen obstacles, and slowly realises feckless Gabriela has mismanaged everything.  If the shadowy Dr Bebe will help at all, it’s going to be up to Otilia.

Harrowing but gripping, the film offers a look at the late 1980s in the poorest of the eastern bloc countries.  Painstaking care was taken to frame out modern development and film only buildings and props authentic to the period.  The result is a close up on the grey and cheerless landscapes of life behind the Iron Curtain.

Purposefully shot in an almost documentary style, director Cristian Mungiu says he tried to “focus on capturing emotion and truth.”  For this reason the film does not actually enter the abortion debate, but looks instead at the extreme lengths women would go to in order to secure a risky, outlawed and in many cases downright unsafe operation on the black market.

It’s not a film for the faint hearted.  There are disturbing scenes, and the drama plays out relentlessly, creating layers of tension with little release.  Yet it is a beautifully crafted film – perhaps one of the best of the year.  Stunning performances, especially from Anamaria Marinca as Otilia, engage us in the characters’ lives, and the familiar way we follow them around makes us almost complicit in their turmoil.

4 months, 3 weeks & 2 days is rumoured to be the first instalment in a planned trilogy from the same director, all about Romanian life under communism.  While this first part is hardly one I’d want to watch again, it’s going to remain high on my list of great films, and I will definitely be keeping an eye out for any follow ups.

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.