Although most of my time in Devon has been spent being driven down identical narrow roads or sitting on beaches (or waiting for my nan outside the Newquay branch of Peacocks), I have managed to see two films on DVD. The first was 'The Men Who Stare at Goats' on Friday night, which I judged to be passable if ultimately disposable fare. However, less amusing (and also featuring George Clooney) was last nights viewing: 'Welcome to Collinwood'. A film not even saved by the presence of Sam Rockwell.
In many ways 'Collinwood' is almost a remake of Woody Allen's 'Small Time Crooks' from two years prior (apparently itself a loose remake of the 1958 film 'Big Deal on Madonna Street'). As in 'Small Time Crooks' a group of ineffectual would-be criminals gather for one big heist that involves using one vacant property to break into another. They share gags too: in both films breaking through the wall leads to accidentally hitting a water pipe. As if to acknowledge these apparent similarities the film's end credits are in the Allen style (you'd know it if you saw it) and the incidental music (by Mark Mothersbaugh) is also a familiar easy going jazz.
This is all well and good. After all, if you're going to steal etc. The problem is not that it's shamelessly derivative, but that most of the humour involves pratfalls and physical business. The thing with that sort of humour is that no everyone can pull it off. You have to a skilled physical comedian to really make falling over funny. Tragically none of the actors here (in an ensemble cast that also includes William H. Macy, Luis Guzman and Michael Jeter) have it in them and the various scenes of peoples pants falling down do not register as much as a smile. I speak, of course, for myself. My nan was in fits of laughter every time somebody fell off a ladder or fell into some water, so what do I know?
Often the film changes gear and strains for poignancy which it characteristically fails at badly. It also tries to develop its own lingo ('mullinsky' and 'bellini' for example) which never takes off and halfway through the film seems to have been abandoned altogether. Writer/directors the Russo brothers (who also directed the 2006 comedy 'You, Me and Dupree') try for something timeless and distinctive here and have good intentions. The film is never nasty, always good-natured and events take place in a spirit of fun. However, no amount of wanting to enjoy this film is enough to actually make you actually enjoy it. Alongside this 'The Men Who Stare at Goats' looks less average (at least there you have the cinematography of Robert Elswit to keep you watching that film). Anyway, there is my two cents. Back into the sun.
Yesterday I mentioned I was off to Devon and posed the question "which film should I see down here?" Well, in a bit of an anti-climax I didn't go to the cinema, instead spending time on a beach (I know... what a let down). I did watch a film yesterday however, as my nan put on a DVD copy of 'The Men Who Stare at Goats'. It was a passable movie. Some funny moments and it's always nice seeing Jeff Bridges. It was bewildering casting to have Ewan McGregor playing an American (aside from the constant in-jokes about him playing a jedi in Star Wars, it was pointless) as there are plenty of good, young American actors.
Anyway, it's a self-described "quirky" comedy and is inoffensive with some good moments. There is the mild hint of some political commentary as the opening credits contains real news footage of the current Iraq war and the story (supposedly based on true events) is about military stupidity. But ultimately this amounts to nothing of substance. So, if it's on and you've got nothing better to do, then you could do worse than watch 'The Men Who Stare at Goats' (that recommendation wasn't even HALF-hearted).
Other than that I have been reading that book on the cinema Ishiro Honda in my down time. It's been really facinating, but I'll save my thoughts on it for the upcoming review. I'll just say that I have read that he directed two of the best segments of the 1990 Kurosawa movie, 'Dreams'. 'The Tunnel' and 'Mount Fuji in Red' were written and directed by Honda and they are perhaps two of the visually stand-out sequences. Good on you Honda-san!
Just writing to say I'm on a bit of a last minute trip to Devon this weekend and have just noticed that Picturehouse have a cinema down there in Exeter. I am thinking I may pay them a visit on Saturday but if I do, what should I see? I can choose from the following options:
'Please Give', (which I have already seen and revieved here). Woody Allen's Larry David comedy 'Whatever Works' (which also starts its run in Brighton tomorrow and which I promised I'd see with my girlfriend). Or 'Shrek Forever After 3D' (which I never planned on seeing ever in my life). What will it be? Alternatively, I may see Martin Freeman in 'Wild Target', a remake of a French film from 1993. But that is playing in Barnstaple at the Central Cinema (at some sort of local upstart chain).
What on earth should I do?! Cast your vote. You may just sway me.
Here is a follow-up to yesterday's post regarding my trip to see a very rare early Kurosawa film at the BFI Southbank. I didn't know quite what to expect from the 1945 film 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' but I was really pleasantly surprised by what I saw tonight. One of the few things I knew about the film before going in was that it based on an old 12th Century Japanese tale and uses aspects of Nah and Kabuki theatre adaptations in its telling. I worried slightly that this may be alienating or (frankly) boring to watch, but actually the film was really well paced and consistently entertaining. Of course, it helped that it ran at a brisk 58 minutes in length.
'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' really feels like the simple, effective telling of an age-old tale. What surprised me the most was that, despite the fact the film pre-dates his "golden period", many of Kurosawa's trademark shots and techniques are visible here. There are screenwipes, quick cuts between multiple protagonists and even many of his consistent themes are invoked (humanist values, criticism of traditional values and the emphasis on male characters). Furthermore, the film features a number of actors he would later rely on such as Masayuki Mori ('Rashomon', 'The Idiot', 'The Bad Sleep Well'), Susumu Fujita ('Yojimbo', 'The Hidden Fortress') and the great Takashi Shimura (too many to mention, most famously 'Ikiru' and 'Seven Samurai').
As I wrote yesterday, I couldn't pass up the chance to see this rarely screened film which is unavailable on DVD (at least in the UK). I wondered what the quality of the print would be like for this movie and when it started it was plain to see not only that this piece of film had been around since the film's US release in 1952, but that it was an American version. For one thing the subtitles looked like they had been scratched directly onto the film and, more obviously, the opening credits and titles were all in English. There was also a three page forward giving the context of the story and telling us that "this is a story which is loved by the Japanese". Sometimes the sound went and even the picture cut out at other times, but I found that strangely charming. After seeing the remastered splendour of 'Rashomon' the week before, it was sort of nice to see what a used and abused print looked like. It was a great advert for the likes of Martin Scorsese, who tell us frequently about the need to restore and maintain older films. Hopefully somebody will do the same for this movie before it is worn out of existence!
This is not to criticise the BFI at all. They deserve kudos for finding and screening such an unsung and obscure film as this as part of their Kurosawa season. The screening (admittedly in one of the smaller screens) was pleasingly quite well attended too and the movie played to a good atmosphere, with the comedy of contemporary comedian Kenichi "Enoken" Enomoto going down a storm. Enoken is really exaggerated and campy throughout but his porter character (introduced to the tale by Kurosawa) is what makes the film satirical, as he undermines the heroism and traditional values of the party of soldiers he is in service of. Displaying all the cowardice and opportunism of the lowly pair later seen in 'The Hidden Fortress', the porter delightfully contradicts the earnest Bushido of the rest of the film.
I don't usually go in for plot synopsis here, but seeing as this film is so hard to come by it might be a good idea. Basically, a group of warriors are disguised as travelling monks in order to escort their lord safely into another territory as he is on the run after a dispute with the ruling clan (in another plot element reminiscent of 'The Hidden Fortress'). However, they are expected at the checkpoint barrier and the film mainly involves a stand-off between the head warrior (Captain Beneki, played by the wonderful Denjiro Okochi) and the barrier guard (Togashi, played by Fujita) as he attempts to convince him that the group are the monks they claim to be. It is sometimes funny, sometimes actually very tense and always gripping stuff.
When the barrier guards recognise one of the porters as the wanted lord, Beneki trashes his master with a stick, supposedly to discipline him for being slow. Convinced that a warrior would never beat his master the barrier guard agree to let the men pass. Apparently the debate among Japanese fans of the old tale is whether Togashi knows that Beneki is lying or not, perhaps deciding to let him pass regardless. However here, in this telling, I believe Kurosawa has Togashi convinced by the beating, so stuck is he in an old code of honour now obsolete. Or at least, if not wholly convinced, Beneki breaks all the rules and Togashi is socially unable to accuse another man of his class of that dishonesty and ultimate shame. To deal with his shame at beating his master (in order to save his life) Beneki is shown to drink a barrel full of sake, much like Toshiro Mifune's Kikuchiyo does in 'Seven Samurai' after his own shameful episode.
Despite its brevity there is a lot to take in after watching 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail', a complex and thoroughly entertaining film. I had expected to find myself appreciating it more than liking it and had hoped to see the genesis of some of Kurosawa's later work represented in this early film. Instead what I was treated to was a film full of such moments, but which also worked completely in its own right. It was made quite cheaply and is entirely set-bound (with painted exterior backdrops), but it is quite atmospheric all the same thanks to Kurosawa's direction and the photography of Takeo Itô (who later worked on 'Drunken Angel'). Enoken's rampant over-acting may grate with some, so (intentionally) at odds is it with the rest of the piece, but if you get the chance to see it some time in the future then I would recommend you spend 58 minutes watching 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail'. Especially if you appreciate Kurosawa's later work. 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' is currently exempt from classification by the BBFC. However, with the complete absence of shown violence or any bad language it would comfortably receive a 'U' in my opinion.
On Monday I said that my recent flurry of celebratory posts about the films of Akira Kurosawa would com to an end with that review of the incredible reissued print of 'Rashonmon'. Well, predictably I am banging on about Kurosawa again. This time to say that I am going back to the BFI Southbank tomorrow to see a rare wartime film of his which I know precious little about: 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail'. The earliest of Kurosawa's films I have seen to date is 1948's 'Drunken Angel' (his first film starring Toshiro Mifune and the film on which he felt he'd discovered himself as a filmmaker). Most of the films which came out after 'Drunken Angel' are readily available to buy on DVD in the UK and so out of his 30 films I have been lucky enough to see 20 to date. However 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' will be the first of his 6 "early period" films which I will have seen. I'm really excited by this rare chance to see a film which is completely unavailable to buy in this country.
Amazingly, although the film was shot in 1945, it wasn't released until 1952 as it was banned by the American occupation (a fact Kurosawa attributed to a "mean-spirited" censor rather than the content of his film). I can't wait to see what all the fuss was about.
On a separate note (but still on the subject of Japanese cinema) I received a book in the post today by an American writer called Peter H. Brothers. He has written a comprehensive book in celebration of the overlooked godfather of the monster movie, Ishiro Honda (best known for the original 1954 'Godzilla'). The book is called 'Mushroom Clouds and Mushroom Men: The Fantastic Cinema of Ishiro Honda' and I can't wait to read it and review it here. Incidently, Honda was a good friend (and one-time assistant director) of a certain Kurosawa. In fact he is known to have directed huge parts of Kurosawa's 1990 film 'Dreams' and was ever-present on the set during his final films.
Here is the trailer to the fantastic 'Godzilla' which stars the great Takashi Shimura and is a much better film than the campy series that followed would lead you to think:
There is a new Splendor Podcast up now (on iTunes and the Picturehouse website). Episode 18 sees Jon and I discussing the Spanish thriller ‘Hierro’, before taking a look at two quirky American indie films: ‘Greenberg’ and ‘Please Give’. At the time of recording I hadn’t seen ‘Please Give’, but after Jon’s recommendation (given as far back as February after a screening at Berlinale) I had to go and see the film for myself.
Watching the trailer for Nicole Holofcener's 'Please Give' I got the impression I would be going to see a comedy about the affectations of upper-middle class New Yorkers in the vein of Woody Allen. In fact Catherine Keener's Kate, full of well-meaning liberal guilt, recalls Goldie Hawn's Steffi in Allen's 1996's musical comedy 'Everyone Says I Love You'. Add to that the presence of Rebecca Hall whose most famous role up to now was in another Woody Allen film: ‘Vicky Christina Barcelona’. However, upon seeing the film I found something far less comic and far less full of snappy one-liners than the trailer seemed to suggest.
Aside from the lack of jokes, ‘Please Give’ is also markedly different from most Allen films in that the characters are not judged. Usually the Woody Allen character (often, in recent times, played by a surrogate Woody) critiques the other characters, informing the audience what to make of their pretensions and affectations. In ‘Please Give’ people are hyper-critical of themselves, but infidelity and callousness are not punished in Holofcener’s script. Instead they are presented with touching humanity.
‘Please Give’ is occasionally amusing (as when Kate mistakes a restaurant patron for a homeless man and offers him leftovers), but it is often more sad then it is funny. There is a lot of weeping and many pained expressions here. What humour there is is subtle and occasionally quite dark. Happily, the likes of Keener and Hall are joined by Oliver Platt and Amanda Peet in a cast that really understand this material. Keener is perhaps best known for her bitchy, alpha-female Maxine in Spike Jonze’s ‘Being John Malkovich’, but her character here is much gentler but no less convincing. Keener really is a fantastic actress. An assessment obviously shared by Holofcener as this is her fourth film working with Keener. It is also nice to see the likes of Platt and Peet given good roles here as both are often seen in rubbish or playing bit parts.
For me, the real star of the show is Rebecca Hall. Her character (also called Rebecca) is, in many ways, the emotional centre of the film and easily provides the most poignant moments. Hall plays an American here and does so effortlessly. In fact, I completely forgot she was English until after the movie. The film is also really accurate in its portrayal of the elderly. Ann Guilbert plays a brilliantly direct (“you’ve put on weight”) and stubborn 91 year-old lady who rings very true.
The film works best as an allegory for the role of charity in capitalist society. Keener’s Kate makes her money from buying furniture from the bereaved at a low price and selling it on for thousands of dollars. Out of guilt for her lifestyle, Kate gives to every homeless person she sees, neglecting her own family’s needs: especially those of her insecure daughter (played by Sarah Steele, a more convincing teenager than most in the movies). Kate’s guilt leads her volunteer helping the elderly and children with Down syndrome. However, she is quickly dismissed in both instances, as she is incapable of actually helping these people as she bursts into tears at their (imagined) plight. Like most affluent, middle-class people, Kate feels guilt for her lifestyle which she tries to address with the quick and easy giving of money, but not with actually addressing the root cause of problems. Kate will not give up her lifestyle because somebody else would just take her place ripping people off.
There is a lot going on in ‘Please Give’, which is easily one of this year’s most intelligent screenplays. Each character is multi-layered and has an interesting story. I won’t go into each one here. Overall, I found the film could have done with a little more humour. Personally, I always find that the films of people Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach are more emotionally affecting because there is light and shade at all times. Moments of sadness often sit alongside moments of humour. In ‘Please Give’ there is a film which (despite nice moments of comedy) is predominantly focussed on being sad and dramatic. This is fine and the film is very good (well deserving of a second viewing), however it did not hit me on a really emotional level or have me laughing out loud.
'Please Give' is out now on a shockingly wide release for a film without big-name stars. It is rated '15' by the BBFC.
I have recently written a fair bit on this blog about the work of Akira Kurosawa. Jon and I recently recorded a special Kurosawa-themed Splendor Cinema podcast, whilst I have also written here about my favourite of his films and about some of the re-makes he inspired. On Friday I visited the BFI Southbank in London where I took advantage of their awesome world cinema shop to purchase a copy of his splendid autobiography and also fill some the gaps in my DVD collection: I found copies of ‘The Idiot’, ‘The Bad Sleep Well’, ‘Drunken Angel’ and ‘High and Low’. Most importantly, I took the opportunity to watch his international breakthrough, the Golden Lion winning 1950 film ‘Rashomon’, now in a glorious restored print which has been re-issued at selected cinemas nationwide.
‘Rashomon’ had previously been a film I admired more than enjoyed. I appreciated how significant it was in opening the eyes of western critics to Japanese cinema and I also understood its influence, the narrative structure (focussing on four subjective accounts of a rape and murder) has been copied by a countless number of films and has also been adapted by science and philosophy – the so-called “Rashomon effect”. But when I saw it on Friday it marked the first time I had seen the film on the big screen and its impact on me was much greater.
Partly this was down to paying the film greater attention than I had possibly done in the past. In a cinema it is just you and the film. You can’t pause it. You can’t look at your phone. You can’t go and get a drink and you hesitate to leave for the toilet. It holds your complete, undivided attention.
This time I noticed the virtuosity of Kurosawa’s camera work, often panning and swooping in elaborate long takes. Just as often it is still and patient with the director allowing the action to move in and out of the frame. It is in many ways a masterclass in how to shoot a film, especially action sequences. Like his hero John Ford, Kurosawa is able to make everything look deceptively simple and made his films with great economy. The film feels tight, disciplined and is basically as close to perfect as any movie could hope to be.
The performances are also fantastic. Toshiro Mifune is at his most cat-like as a snarling bandit accused of murder, whilst Takashi Shimura gives a great turn as a woodcutter who reports the crime, with some scenes of emotional poignancy to rival his more celebrated role in ‘Ikiru’. There are also roles for lesser known Kurosawa regulars such as Minoru Chiaki (who plays a troubled priest) and Masayuki Mori (above) as the murdered samurai. There is also Machiko Kyō, who almost steals the show as the samurai’s wife. Kyō cries and screams with an intensity which renders her performance unforgettable. Like almost every female in a Kurosawa movie, she is also called upon to be somewhat conniving and manipulative which she does with some gusto (representations of women are not Kurosawa’s strongest suit, for that see Mizoguchi, Ozu or Naruse) .
But more impressive than its stars and the great craft of its master director is its typically humanist portrayal of the characters. During the varying accounts of the central murder, what struck me was that the emphasis is not on the practical differences between the accounts, but on something subtler. It is the difference in tone, the different emotional reactions to the event and the changes in meaning which shape this tale and give ‘Rashomon’ its depth. During the trial scenes, in which the characters gather to give their testimonies, the judges are unseen. We are only shown the storytellers themselves talking to camera. Therefore when they lie the implication is that they are only lying to themselves (and perhaps to us).
The bandit wants us to believe he is a hard man, a skilful swashbuckler and a user of women. Watching him speak you feel he has succeeded in convincing himself. The samurai (whose testimony comes via a medium) gives an account in which he dies an honourable death by suicide to compensate for the shame he feels at seeing his wife raped. However the woodcutter’s story (in all details but one final twist taken to be the “true” account) reveals that both men were cowardly: that they fought but that it involved a lot of falling over and scrambling in the dirt. During the encounter Mifune pants loudly: out of breath and full of fear.
They never really cross swords (as in the bandit's version above); instead they swing wildly and run away from each other. The samurai’s final words are “I don’t want to die”. The truth is pathetic, not heroic or romantic. The truth is human. Kurosawa’s point is not that all people are bad or that all people are cowards, but that people are flawed. That we should be suspicious of those who portray themselves as honourable, just as we should of those who promote the idea that they are the opposite. That people are not caricatures: they are complicated.
Happily, for Kurosawa and ‘Rashomon’, there is just as much good as bad in the world. The priest’s faith in humanity is restored by the woodcutter’s decision to adopt an abandoned baby and defend it against a man who seeks to rob it of its few possessions. The woodcutter is told by the man that all people are selfish and that being selfish is necessary to survive (a popular view among capitalists). But the woodcutter rejects this assessment of humanity and, although he already has six children, he takes on the responsibility of another. This final moment sees Kurosawa at his most sentimental, but it is the necessary conclusion to the story and one which gives us hope.
It is hope which is an important final message for Kurosawa and Japan in ‘Rashomon’. Made in the aftermath of the Second World War in a battered and defeated nation, the film is in part allegorical. It opens on a broken gate, a relic from a period of prosperity and cultural richness. The woodcutter and the priest find shelter under this ruin as a heavy rainfall lashes down throughout the film. When the woodcutter adopts the infant the rainfall stops and the duo are able to leave the broken past behind and walk into a more hopeful future, for Japan and for the world. Fitting for a film which heralded a similarly bright future for Japanese cinema.
I, obviously, highly recommend seeking out ‘Rashomon’ in a cinema near you. It is playing at the BFI Southbank until the 8th of July on an extended run and is rated ‘12A’ by the BBFC.
A former freelance film journalist based in Brighton, I have written contributions to The Daily Telegraph and several websites, provided occasional analysis for BBC Radio Sussex and Radio Reverb, and recently I've been involved with several volumes published by Intellect Books.
I've also written about video games for GamesIndustry.biz.
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