Posts Tagged ‘rape’

The Tracey Fragments

The Tracey Fragments

Saturday, May 10th, 2008

Maybe I’m just desperately continuing a theme here after last weekend, but I found something similar in The Tracey Fragments to the whole Alice thing. I only really began to realise another side to “Alice in Wonderland” last week when somebody was talking about how old the Disney movie is now and how wild it must’ve seemed at the time of its release considering even now, in the wacky world in which we live, it’s still pretty wacky. I said, it’s true, in a world where we never quite know what’s going to explode next, where we never quite seem to be able to do the right thing, we kind of live in Wonderland now, and our response to Carroll’s creation is sort of doomed to be jaded – you can pause for a moment with all the technology, information and possibility around you and almost go mad; so it’s better to be, well, a little numb to it.

For teenagers, of course, it’s always been this way. So many options. Right and wrong. Good or bad. Cool or not. Even their bodies are betraying them inside and out. One could argue that the fragmented images on the screen here are like a broken looking-glass, the cinema screen often called a mirror to the audience; that the varying sizes of images on the screen are like Alice’s changes in size. Tracey has parents, teachers, school peers and even a psychotherapist – people who are meant to help her cope in this wonderland, yet like all Alice’s acquaintances, none of them do squat for her. In the end, it’s she who has to find out herself, how “No one can stop me,” she says at the end; “No one can make me stand still.” She kinda becomes a superhero in that moment – it reminded me of the, “Why aren’t my hands shaking?” scene in The Brave One.

Like Sofia Coppola’s films outside of The Virgin Suicides, it’s probably a film whose success in portraying the very adolescent nature of adolescence is actually its biggest problem. The fragmented screen gimmick seems like just that at first but in the end it’s used cleverly enough to make it not just a gimmick – at times it captures stuff the way I always believe cinema should capture stuff better than any other format could … it’s the ultimate extension of what’s grown from split-screen to Mike Figgis’ Timecode to TV’s 24 etc, etc. But ultimately its success is in portraying the adolescent state of mind … and I just don’t know how fun a thing that is to spend even the movie’s admirable 80-minute runtime with. I discovered while reading about the movie online that all the shot footage for the movie was actually released via BitTorrent last year for people to make their own creations with it. It might be quite the amazing DVD when it emerges. So many possibilities. Like another review I read recently said, maybe someone will crack the code and make this as good a movie as it deserves to be.



Lolita [1997]

Lolita [1997]

Tuesday, April 29th, 2008

“She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago – but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man’s child. She could fade and wither – I didn’t care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.”

First thing that must be said here is how much funnier this is than I ever remember it. The two adaptations of Vladimir Nabokov’s novel are usually separated quite cleanly as “Kubrick funny and Lyne serious” but it’s really nowhere near as simple as that. There are tons of laughs in this version, particularly early on as the game begins in the Haze household. “Is she keeping you up?” Charlotte asks Hum after his and Lo’s first intimate moment, and later, “Just slap her hard if she interferes with your scholarly meditations.” This humour continues throughout the film, usually undercutting any potential discomfort caused by the underage sex etc. (the sleeptalking at the Enchanted Hunters, eg.). The movie kind of snaps in two at the moment when Humbert tells Lo about her mother and the first scene of her crying (some of the most gutwrenching crying ever put on film, I might add, I can hardly bear it no matter how many times I watch the movie) – but even after that the laughs are horrifyingly infectious – the riotous start to the “road trip” portion of the story, for instance, with Lo flinging hairgrips and such at Humbert from the back seat makes one entirely forget just exactly what is going on and indeed what just happened.

Ennio Morricone’s score (it’s the tragic atonal notes that kill me), Jon Hutman’s production design (and/or Chris Shriver’s art direction – I’ve never been able to differentiate between the two roles, lol), Howard Atherton’s cinematography, and Judianna Makovsky’s costume design all deserve individual mention – the production design in particular, though. It’s the motels that stand out of course (“Children under 14 free!”) but the details of the props, from whiskey glasses to the Magic Fingers to the whole damn interior of the car are amazing too, everything has a weighty, tangible believability to it. Lyne’s imagery is virtually flawless, it’s certainly a leap from his 80s thrillers anyway; the introduction to Lolita in the garden is just as arresting as that in the ’62 movie, and that’s really no mean feat to accomplish. Such things as the grotesque shot of Quilty’s hand “fingering” the dog leash jar occasionally but it all contributes to the uneasy balance of light and dark. Looking at the nominations for the 1998 Oscars (or even ’99, when the movie was nominated for some more minor accolades), it’s a genuine shame that this movie ultimately got such a messy release, because in the minor categories it could’ve had a serious shot (I’m always amused, however, when I’m reminded that Dominique Swain and Jeremy Irons were nominated for Best Kiss at the MTV Movie Awards :) )

Unlike many (and I’ve said this many times before, hopefully I’m not boring anyone with repetition) I’ve a huge place in my heart for both Lolita adaptations. They’re just entirely different films as the novel is a different work too. I have no great desire as some do to see it done “correctly” or from Nabokov’s own screenplay (which I have but haven’t yet read) though of course I’d watch such a thing in a flash and probably build yet another cavern of love in my chest for that too.

I have to include just one more quote in this review, I could honestly fill a page with them though – it’s the one that ends the movie and what always brings me back to regarding it as every bit as good an adaptation as Kubrick’s no matter where it may stumble along the way:

“What I heard then was the melody of children at play. Nothing but that. And I knew that the hopelessly poignant thing was not Lolita’s absence from my side, but the absence of her voice from that chorus.”

Both quotes are almost straight from the novel, albeit shortened; both are beautiful and really get to the heart of why Lolita is so much more than it’s often unfortunately mistaken for. It’s been too long since I actually read the novel, I read it almost every year for a while but I can’t seem to find the time to read these days. Watching this, however, not to mention searching an e-text for those particular lines and finding the glorious expanded versions of them, definitely made me want to find time. Anyone who hasn’t read it at least once should feel even more compelled.



Titus

Titus

Monday, January 14th, 2008

I feel the need to clarify something I’ve whined about recently and here seems like the perfect place to do it, and it regards those movies that are nothing but technically impressive. The ones where the first thing you find yourself mentioning is how “beautifully shot” they are or how marvelous the visual effects were or how great the music was etc. I said that if you find yourself mentioning things like this before anything else, it’s probably not really a great movie. I guess that was a little harsh. What I should’ve said is, if you’re gonna make a movie like that, your name had better be Julie Taymor.

This is actually a lot more like Across the Universe than I remembered it, obviously not in story or anything, but inasmuch as its noble failings. The one shot I remembered from the first (and last) time I watched was of course that of Lavinia in the open plain following her disfigurement, the sticks on the end of her arms reaching out for her uncle as blood issues from her mouth over the camera. It’s still one of the most extraordinary images I’ve ever seen, and it’s not the only one to behold in these few hours.

After I’d first seen it, this scene and what follows made me think Laura Fraser’s performance was a lot better than it really is. In fact, it’s only as the mute that she really impresses me now – in the first half of the movie, her performance kind of collapses each time she opens her mouth, something in the way she delivers the Shakespeare lines that just gives away how lost she is amongst heavyweights like Hopkins and Lang.

And that’s kind of the movie’s problem too – luckily, the wobbly stuff here is mostly confined to the first half of the movie, prior to the scene where Lavinia is brought back to Titus. It’s also, it must be said, never quite as wobbly as the stuff in Across the Universe. The “everyplace, everytime” set-up jars about as often as it works – it’s at its best when the 20s jazz-style score sets up the travelling circus-like reveal of the heads of Titus’ sons, a moment that just about makes the many times it falls flat worth it. Alan Cumming jars almost every time he’s onscreen – but he’s Alan Cumming, so that too can be forgiven.

Ultimately, this is absolutely the movie to show disinterested kids to show them that Shakespeare’s anything but boring. Even I still now have to stop in places during this and ask myself, is this really Shakespeare, lol? Really? Reaaalllly?!?? The casting of Anthony Hopkins is almost cheeky; he of course is pretty much just Lecter again in the movie’s last hour or so. Do I care? Not a bit. This is one of the greatest revenge stories ever told – of course, I’d almost entirely forgotten the Sweeney Todd connection here, too, which extends far beyond meat pies – and Julie Taymor turned it into one of the greatest Shakespeare adaptations ever put onscreen. Right now, I think it’s second only to Branagh’s Hamlet in my mind.



Trade [2007]

Trade [2007]

Sunday, December 30th, 2007

“We are the fucking gringos, aren’t we.”

To say I didn’t expect much from this would be a candidate for understatement of the year. Kevin Kline seemed about the only thing it had going for it and the reviews I’d read were mostly not good. But if this doesn’t eventually pick up as much kudos as a Babel, Crash, or my personal choice for comparison Man on Fire, there’s something wrong in the world of film. This has a perfect pace, the photography is beautiful and – I think it’s becoming my mantra this year – it goes all the way it needs. I loved the slight buddy movie humour between Kline and Cesar Ramos, there is a scene that makes wonderful use of Rufus Wainwright’s “Agnus Dei” (which I never really liked that much, especially as the start of “Want Two” which is otherwise fantastic), and it even has some open ends to ponder. I’m glad to find other people on the IMDb message boards wondering about the boy at the end and the girl who tries to sell Kline Adriana. Is she his daughter, now a part of the system that took her from him? Is that Veronica’s son?



Straightheads

Straightheads

Sunday, December 30th, 2007

As this got underway, I found myself of course wondering if I hadn’t already seen it earlier in the day in the form of Outlaw. The set-up is similar, and of course, there’s Danny Dyer.

Actually, I ultimately found it quite a neat blending of something like Outlaw and, with the presence of Gillian Anderson, what I missed in Outlaw that The Brave One had to offer. I was surprised to find I liked Danny Dyer in Outlaw, and the same was true here; I love Gillian Anderson, of course; and despite the very clearcut masculine-feminine thing here (the women quite literally leave the movie for “somewhere safe” before horrible manly things happen), I found it much better than the reviews I’ve read. Clocking in at little over 70 minutes, it’s easily worth that just for Anderson’s performance, but there’s plenty more to get into too.



Atonement

Atonement

Thursday, December 27th, 2007

I don’t know if it’s much of a secret but I really neither wanted nor expected to like this much. Though I liked Enduring Love, another Ian McEwan adaptation, and I love James McAvoy, my hatred of the kind of praise this movie has received – not to mention Ikea Knightley – completely outweighed the positives.

Within minutes, however, I was fairly hooked – those typewriter clicks on the score, the pace of the whole thing. On the technical side, this is certainly watchable stuff, even if the pace of its opening isn’t quite kept up after the first 10 minutes. But though I was impressed by how much it exceeded my expectations, it all comes down to one thing for me, something I’m sure must be conveyed better in the novel unless all of its readers are just the types that are easy to please – and that’s that I just don’t believe for a second that a child in the 30s (especially one we’ve seen using a typewriter which even explains the letter) would be given so much credence over such a delicate, even today almost unspeakable matter. I mean, if ever there was a time when children were meant to be seen and not heard it was then. And by extension, I don’t really see the need for the period setting except to have some lovely war and costume scenes for Oscar (before you say it, I know it’s adapted from a novel … but still …)

Though I realise it would screw up the time passed thing of the ending, were it set today, I’d buy it easier. Even if the “c” word has lost its power to shock today, and I don’t believe it has at all (just try saying it to 10 strangers, I dare you) – if a child points their finger at a young man today and accuses them of anything, that man is basically f**ked, not to put too fine a point on it.

But I digress … it doesn’t matter because the next thing we know, McAvoy is in France in a soldier’s uniform talking French, and the movie gets better from there on out.

Any film that contains The Tracking Shot (yes, it’s impossible to write about this movie without mentioning it) earns itself an immediate 4 stars in my book. It is that good that it’s worth watching 2 hours for 10 minutes, even if the rest of the movie doesn’t come even close to the beauty and skill on display in those minutes. Overall it kept me wanting to know where exactly it was going in the end, and though that ending is too jarring to be as effective as it wants to be, I’m pleased to say this was much better than expected, so much so that I really won’t mind how many nominations it gets next month for the Oscars … yes, that includes Keira, for whom maybe another apology may be required (but not today).



Lipstick

Lipstick

Thursday, October 11th, 2007

I guess my first surprise here was how procedural and straight-faced this movie is. I read a brief summary of the plot prior to putting it on and couldn’t imagine anything but a generic Seventies exploitation thing doing its best to cover up the fact that it’s making a mockery of the severity of rape (okay, I’ll admit, following the last two movies I was probably just hoping to complete a perfect triple bill, lol). But dang … not only does this thing have a court room scene in it, but it also has Anne Bancroft as the DA looking at every moment like she wants to rip every penis in the room off with her bare hands.

Most of all, it reminds me of the movies Brian De Palma was making around the same time – most notably Blow Out – or things like Peeping Tom … movies that really used the separate elements of sound and image in cinema to service the theme at hand. You get perfect opposites here like the accepted nude photography of its central character, a victim, a lipstick model vs. the photographs taken as evidence following her rape. Later, we see her even younger sister being groomed in the ways of glamour photography, preceeding an even more unwatchable sequence. We have the predator, an electronic composer, capturing sounds like those made by the birds on his windowsill, but also later, the very heartbeat of his victim. I love this kind of thing, it’s what cinema is all about for me.

Frankly I’d be happy watching Anne Bancroft shouting “Objection! Objection! Obbbbbbb-jection!” for 90 minutes, lol … it’s like the girl version of … And Justice For All when she’s around. And Mariel Hemingway was supercute at this age.