Posts tagged films
Film Club: Film Noir pictures
Feb 7th
A baleful sun rose over the grey streets of New Malden as I hauled my tenderised carcass up from beneath the sheets. It seemed like a low life bar and a bottle of gin were a match made in hell and my throbbing head and half-closed right eye testified to this fact as my teeth rattled in my head and my jaw squeaked like a rusty gate.
Film club.
I poured myself a hair of the dog what gnawed my head off as my gut lurched unpleasantly beneath the starched cotton of my second best shirt. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to take this but the time was bearing down on me like a runaway engine that had jumped the tracks at Clapham Junction and was barrelling down on me spitting sparks and tearing metal with all the demons in hell tumbling after. And stuck in the back of my head was a thought, the ultimate itch I couldn’t hope to scratch – I had arranged this, I had brought this event down upon myself as surely as if I had put my .45 in my mouth, hooked the trigger and made a fist.
And so they came. The dregs of society, the poor and the hopeless, the chancers, the misfits, the bums. The drunks and the floozies, the dirty cops and the wild-eyed crooks. They sat in my apartment, they smiled smiles that never reached their eyes and licked their cracked lips as the whole caper played out before them in a succession of high-contrast, staccato images full of betrayal and depravity.
I sat in my faded leather chair and waited for trouble.
But that’s the thing about trouble, it strolls round the corner when you’re thinking about better days, never when you’re expecting it. The whole shebang past without a hitch, they even seemed to enjoy themselves the shmoes.
I got out alive. I made it.
And now as I look at the future through the bottom of a dirty hi-ball I can feel its icy fingers enclose me.
I am a damned man and I’m playing with borrowed time. I’m going to do it again. Damn me.
I’m going to do it again.
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The Road Review
Feb 5th
Film and literature are very different media. Even the laziest of observers will confirm that yes, books tend to be small, oblong and papery whereas cinemas are larger, less portable and serve popcorn. But those are just the surface differences, each art form has its own strengths and weaknesses, especially when it comes to the messy enterprise of story telling.
Books, in direct contrast to their compact size, can tell sprawling stories of emotional depth and complexity. Films require a certain economy of narrative but handle the grand sweep of action and spectacle with natural aplomb. Arguably, books unlock the reader’s imagination, challenging them to fill in the details of a fictional world, while cinema is more prescriptive, locking down those infinite possibilities to a consistent, artistic vision. Neither is the ultimate expression, each merely offers a different aperture to view the story.
And so we turn to John Hillcoat’s The Road, a grim, intimate and mostly successful attempt to bring Cormac McCarthy’s novel to the screen, or as script writer Joe Penhall puts it, ‘transmute the state from ice to water, or water to gas’ while leaving the audience in no doubt it’s the same base element. Penhall asserts that the novel is ‘delivered directly to the blood stream’ and the film attempts the same trick. It can’t rely on McCarthy’s stripped down, bleakly evocative prose but it can offer breathtaking vistas of rotting cityscapes and a dying world, broken and bowed by an unspecified apocalypse.
Viggo Mortesson’s perfectly calibrated performance draws us into this world, wielding sparse, fractured dialogue to devastating effect. Life on the road is sketched out in visceral detail in a series of scenes that unfold as slowly and deliberately as a storm front. By playing to the medium’s strengths in this way, concentrating on visual storytelling and well paced narrative beats, the celluloid Road captures the essence of its literary cousin and delivers a wounding yet strangely uplifting cinematic experience.
Film Noir
Jan 15th
Film Club #1 – 6th February 2010
“You Can’t Kiss Away A Murder!”
Join me for the inaugural Film Club this February and a whole day’s worth of shadowy figures, femme fatales, plot twists, heavy drinking and hard knocks. Also there will be films to watch. Ahahaha – see what I did there? I pretended that the words that described the films were actually the things we were going to do on the day. It’s an old comedic device but, I think we can all agree, a hilarious one. Especially now I’ve explained it fully to you.
Film noir is a cinematic term used primarily to describe stylish Hollywood crime dramas, particularly those that emphasize cynical attitudes and sexual motivations. Hollywood’s classic film noir period is generally regarded as stretching from the early 1940s to the late 1950s. Film noir of this era is associated with a low-key black-and-white visual style that has roots in German Expressionist cinematography, while many of the prototypical stories and much of the attitude of classic noir derive from the hardboiled school of crime fiction that emerged in the United States during the Depression.
Don’t worry, I have suddenly got really intelligent or anything, I just copied it from Wikipedia. Film noir will be the theme of our first club day and I’ve chosen 4 of the best films of the genre to show you and also a silly Steve Martin pastiche to round off the day. You’re welcome to come for as much or as little of the day as you want.
Anyway, here’s how it should all pan out:
Schedule
10.00am – We all start drinking whiskey early in the morning.
10.30am - Asphalt Jungle Kick off with John Huston’s original heist movie, made the same year he introduced America to film noir with The Maltese Falcon. We wouldn’t have Reservoir Dogs without it.
12.30pm - Gilda Why did Tim Robbin’s character want a poster of Rita Hayworth on his cell wall during the Shawshank Redemption? This film is why (also the tunnel thing).
2.15pm – Stakeout Food. Lunch will be a selection of things you could consume while on a stakeout. Binoculars will be provided to spy on the neighbours.
2.30pm - Touch of Evil Orson Welles’ masterpiece and one of the best film noir ever made. The version we’ll be showing is the 1998 recut that attempted to reassemble Welles’ original vision from a 58 page memo the director wrote after viewing the studio’s original theatrical release. It’s the best version basically.
5.30pm – A selection of detective-themed games – cluedo and scotland yard among them. Also more shots of whiskey and maybe a fist fight.
7.00pm – DOUBLE BILL: Double Indemnity/ Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid – Played back to back, the most twisted, dark, OTT classic the genre has ever produced and a silly Steve Martin comedy that makes fun of it. Dress code is film noir, let’s all dress up as femme fatales and private dicks.
And it should all be over by 10.15pm.
Click here to be taken to the facebook event to register your interest in attending and find out location details.
“She liked me. I could feel that. The way you feel when the cards are falling right for you, with a nice little pile of blue and yellow chips in the middle of the table. Only what I didn’t know then was that I wasn’t playing her. She was playing me, with a deck of marked cards and the stakes weren’t any blue and yellow chips. They were dynamite.”
In Praise of the Fleapit
Jan 10th
I spend a good proportion of my life in the cinema. I’m no maths whizz or anything but let me see if I can work out the exact percentage for you … right, 24 hours in a day, sleep for 5 of them, work for 7 of them …
I spend about 50% of my life in the cinema.
It is, in a very real sense, my home from home. When the lights go down and the screen flickers into life I feel this overwhelming sense of calm and well being, as if everything’s alright with the world. Financial concerns, global warming, tooth ache, the Middle East question – they all slip into the background, receding like the tide to lap unobtrusively at the edges of my consciousness.
(Except if it’s a Matthew Lillard movie, then I feel nauseous like any sane person would, although I still sit there which gives you a clue just how deep my compulsions run)
I worked in a cinema for a while and ended up sleeping there a fair bit too. Once I became a manager I used to get the projectionists to chain two or three new releases together over the course of a night. Then I’d run from screen to screen watching them one after the other, finally falling into the little cot I’d made under my desk to grab a few hours sleep before I had to open the whole place up again for the early morning Mums & Toddlers crowd.
Good times.
Anyway, my favourite cinema is on Haymarket and is currently owned by Cineworld which is amazing as it means I can use my Unlimited card to see films there for free. (The Unlimited scheme is the only thing that lies between me and bankruptcy, I think it’s the best value for money of any endeavour in the modern world. It’s like something from a warmer friendlier time, like something out of the 50s, like I was sold it by a man in a trilby and a pastel three piece suit.)
It used to be called the the Carlton Theatre and it opened in 1927 when it was used both as a live theatre and cinema. I guess that’s why I love it so much. It used to seat about 1,150 people, it was MASSIVE, but it’s now been split into three screens, with Screen 1 (the main cinema) being a conversion of the old upper balcony and Screens 2 and 3 built where the stalls used to be. In the 50s it was taken over by 20th Century-Fox and became the West End showcase cinema for their productions. How cool is that? It’s like our very own piece of the old Hollywood studio system right in the middle of London.
The lobby and the main screen still have all this Italian renaissance plasterwork which have been daubed over in awesomely tasteless shades of pink and purple. It’s just perfect. This hulking great opulent wedding cake of a building all painted up like it was still a pretty young thing, refusing to admit its glory days are behind it and grow old gracefully. It beats every purpose built, brushed steel, neon lit popcorn paradise into a cocked hat without even trying. It’s a one-of-a-kind, flying unbowed in the faces of the multiplexes that want you to have the same beige, homogenous movie going experience whether you’re in Fulham or Tel Aviv.
Brief Encounter had it’s premiere there. Hitchcock has squeezed his rotund buttocks into its faded upholstery. The buttocks of a genius. You can’t compete with that kind of history.
Plus, the last time I was there (watching the Coen’s latest A Serious Man – brilliant) I saw a mouse scurry across the aisle. A mouse. Amazing. It was probably some kind of super-talented mouse that always dreamt of being a film director like Truffaut or Fellini and subsequently escaped his life of rodenty-drugery to make his home at the Carlton and really learn his craft. He’s probably made friends with a simple yet kind-heatred kid who has just started as assistant projectionist and together they plan to make a film that speaks to all of us about acceptance and how awesome mice are.
You know, like Ratatouille.
Except with films rather than food.
That would be pretty sweet.
Joss Whedon writes …
Nov 5th
An Open Letter to the Terminator Owners. From a Very Important Hollywood Mogul
I am Joss Whedon, the mastermind behind Titan A.E., Parenthood (not the movie) (or the new series) (or the one where ‘hood’ was capitalized ’cause it was a pun), and myriad other legendary tales. I have heard through the ‘grapevine’ that the Terminator franchise is for sale, and I am prepared to make a pre-emptive bid RIGHT NOW to wrap this dealio up. This is not a joke, this is not a scam, this is not available on TV. I will write a check TODAY for $10,000, and viola! Terminator off your hands.
No, you didn’t miscount. That’s four — FOUR! — zeroes after that one. That’s to show you I mean business. And I mean show business. Nikki Finke says the Terminator concept is played. Well, here’s what I have to say to Nikki Finke: you are a fine journalist and please don’t ever notice me. The Terminator story is as formative and important in our culture — and my pretend play — as any I can think of. It’s far from over. And before you Terminator-Owners (I have trouble remembering names) rush to cash that sweet cheque, let me give you a taste of what I could do with that franchise:
1) Terminator… of the Rings! Yeah, what if he time-travelled TOO far… back to when there was dragons and wizards? (I think it was the Dark Ages.) Hasta La Vista, Boramir! Cool, huh? “Now you gonna be Gandalf the Red!” RRRRIP! But then he totally helps, because he’s a cyborg and he doesn’t give a s#&% about the ring — it has no power over him! And he can carry it AND Frodo AND Sam AND f@%& up some orcs while he’s doing it. This stuff just comes to me. I mean it. (I will also offer $10,000 for the Lord of the Rings franchise).
2) More Glau. Hey. There’s a reason they’re called “Summer” movies.
3) Can you say… musical? Well don’t. Even I know that’s an awful idea.
4) Christian Bale’s John Connor will get a throat lozenge. This will also help his Batwork (ten grand for that franchise too, btw.)
5) More porn. John Connor never told Kyle Reese this, but his main objective in going to the past was to get some. What if there’s a lot of future-babies that have to be made? Cue wah-wah pedal guitar — and dollar signs!
6) The movies will stop getting less cool.
Okay. There’s more — this brain don’t quit! (though it has occasionally been fired) — but I think you get my drift. I really believe the Terminator franchise has only begun to plumb the depths of questioning the human condition during awesome stunts, and I’d like to shepherd it through the next phase. The money is there, but more importantly, the heart is there. But more importantly, money. Think about it. End this bloody bidding war before it begins, and put the Terminator in the hands of someone who watched the first one more than any other movie in college, including “Song of Norway” (no current franchise offer).
Sincerely, Joss Whedon.
Now I know Joss has his tongue lodged firmly in his cheek here but seriously, how cool would this be? We’ve had to come to terms with the fact that we’ll never see an Eliza Dushku starring Wonder Woman written by the great man but that doesn’t mean that all is lost.
There are a load of great franchises out there ready to be re-energised by a writer of passion, vision and humour, as opposed to being trodden into the mud by faceless hacks and idiot holes. If he wants to do it I say let him.
And commission a third series of Dollhouse.
And a sequel to Serenity.
I can dream.
Developing Country + Cult Film = Awesome
Sep 20th
These are unbelievable.
Turkish Superman
Indian Superman (& Spiderwoman?)
Turkish Star Wars
Chinese Indian Jones
Here is a list of other films we’d like to see:
Bangladeshi Inner Space
Libyan Short Circuit
Ghanian *Batteries Not Included
Mexican Three Men & a Baby
Madagascan Tron
The Haiku Review w/e 180909
Sep 18th
#3
Adventureland (film) Emboldened by rum/ a fairground akward and strange/ he steals love’s first kiss Sports Night (tv) New York in winter/ I feel the heat in your words/ but you talk of sport Spicy Jerk Chicken with mango salsa on pepper and chilli bread (sandwich) Saturated fat/ absent like snow in july/ it melts on the tongue Strawberry Swing (music video) I lay on the floor/ the world erupts around me/ in fire and smudged chalk (500) Days of Summer (film) In the wrong order/ love cools with passing seasons/ a boy meets a girl American Dad (tv) Like family guy/ but in this one the fish talks/ that’s progress for you Pow! (iphone app) Adan West is gone/ but his flying fists live on/ blam crash bang thunk pow Arkham Asylum (ps3 game) Digital Gothlam/ the dark knight detective stalks/ down linear paths Inglourious Basterds (film) Tarintino hacks/ this film into bloody chunks/ some don’t really work Hamlet 2 (film) Shakespeare this is not/ but rock me sexy jesus/ is hilarious Jordan (celebrity) Spring’s brief blush has passed/ flesh droops in autumnal hues/ forget fame and live
The Haiku Review w/e 110909
Sep 11th
Reviews listed from best to worst.
#2
Laura’s Chocolate & Beef Stew (bespoke foodstuff) By all the laws of/ God and man it shouldn’t work/ but somehow it does Dr Horrible’s Sing Along Blog (web comic) If you haven’t seen/ this yet then you can’t be my/ friend until you do Jamie’s Italian (restaurant) He may act like an/ idiot but the boy sure/ knows how to cook pork Brick (film) The Maltese Falcon/ meets 10 Things I Hate About/ You but with more laughs District 9 (film) Has a great bit in/ it where someone is killed by/ a jet-propelled pig Bejeweled Blitz Beta (facebook app) We should all live life/ to the full. But first I’ll have/ one more go on this Cyanide & Happiness (web comic) Badly drawn and in/ questionable taste but when/ it’s good you’ll laugh hard Old People Karaoke (pastime) Sing us your heart’s song/ memories fade to echoes/ melodies linger The Final Destination 3D (film) Shit in 3D is/ still shit. Oh look another/ evisceration The Boondock Saints (film) I am Troy Duffy/ I’m the new Tarantino/ Actually I’m not
Chris’s Undercover Chicken Adventure
Sep 5th
Here are two seemingly unrelated facts for you.
Fact One Napoleon invented the shape of the classic French baguette so that soldiers could store bread in their trouser leg
Fact Two Cinemas don’t make a profit on film tickets, all their money comes from stuff you buy on the concession stands (a large popcorn’s net value is like 27p); this is why you’re not allowed to bring your own food into screens
And so it was with these two facts uppermost in my mind that today I attempted to smuggle a Nando’s Hot Chicken Wrap into the cinema by tucking it into my sock. It made me look like I had a pronounced limp and my feet now smell of peri peri but it was totally worth it.
The Haiku Review w/e 040909
Sep 4th
Reviews don’t really mean anything, do they? We’re all wired so differently that a film or a song or a risotto is going to have a wildly different effect on me than it’s going to have on you. And yet we love to quantify, categorise and clarify. We live to put stuff in boxes and then mark them good or bad with thick black unequivocal lines. The Haiku Review is different. It recognises that reviewing stuff is pretty much meaningless and as such it only spends 17 syllables doing it. It doesn’t differentiate between media and it’s structured from best to worst, enabling you my lucky readers to make direct comparisons between, say, my new shoes and stand-up comedian Jimmy Carr. Be here every Friday for more Ancient Japanese-themed review fun.
#1
Weddings (traditional ceremony) Today you joined hands/ and ran headlong into your/ future. Never stop Y: The Last Man (comic) It makes me weep that/ something so funny and smart/ exists in this world Greenbelt (festival) We shall do well here/ people seem genuinely/ happy together Chocolate Chai Tea (drink) It tastes like a bar/ of chocolate exploded in/ a spice factory Hoopla Impro Workshop (workshop) Your entertainment/ for the evening is coming/ out of your own head Leeds (city) It is cold up here/ fearless girls bare their flesh and/ don’t even goose bump inFamous (game ps3) Like Grand Theft Auto/ but I can shoot lightning and/ throw cars around. Nice! Alton Towers (theme park) Sensations that are/ otherwise reserved for those/ ending their own lives Funny People (film) Long, self-indulgent/ movie that is nonetheless/ revelatory The Host (book) Clumsy, obvious/ broad-brushed and naive and yet/ fitfully brilliant Pizza Express (restaurant) Tasty, generic/ food served in disturbingly/ identical rooms The Time Traveler’s Wife (film) Although you have a/ kind of warmth. It is mostly/ reflected glory G-Force (film) Shit in 3D is/ still shit. It’s just shit with a/ greater depth of field
