Gods & goddesses, red carpet nights in the film and fashion worlds and unbridled ramblings on the milieux of celluloid plastic.
Monday, 27 January 2014
AWARDS SEASON REVIEWS! Part 1! (The Wolf of Wall Street, 12 Years A Slave, Inside Llewyn Davis)
With awards season entering it's final furlong, the time is ripe to break out the rest of the reviews for the films vying to make a difference. Next week i'll go to town on August Osage County & All is Lost (with Her and Dallas Buyers Club to follow in February). Without further ado...
'For Your Consideration'
First in the ring;
The Wolf of Wall Street
It's difficult to go into any new year slate without looking at the latest from Martin Scorsese.
Casino, Kundun, Bringing Out The Dead, Gangs of New York, The Aviator, The Departed, Shutter Island, Hugo.
That's the roll call of the last eight features directed by the great man. They range from the poor to the very good. Are there any classics in that list? I guess that, as all opinion, is subjective but I would say no. In fact my favourite recent film of Scorsese' would be 'Public Speaking' a documentary on the revered and outspoken New York writer Fran Lebowitz (who incidentally makes a lovingly fleeting cameo in WoWS).
The best of those films are linear storytelling well woven, with good-or-better performances, whereas the worst bloat and aggrandize the visual flairmanship of a master craftsman who has lost his holy grail editor (Thelma Schoonmaker) to the tides of indulgence.
The Wolf of Wall Street somewhat frustratingly straddles both good Marty and bad Marty. The performances are uniformly good if not brilliant with Leo Di Caprio on intensely stupifying form, dizzying and electric. Jonah Hill is also enjoyable, if somewhat predictable. The film makes you aware from the outset that it's eyes wide open, full scream ahead. While that makes for a largely enjoyable experience it leaves a hollow aftertaste on exiting. While i'm not a believer that you have to like the lead character of the film, on multiple viewings I was left to wonder if I cared about his story. Yes it's fun and mildly interesting from a voyeuristic point of view but after countless drug and sex orgies you start to wonder what's the point exactly.
Don't get me wrong, it all looks terrific but did we really need to be hammered with the same point for 3 hours? Perhaps that length was needed. But for me if you have Jordan Belfort on screen don't idolize him for the whole duration of the picture, tell me something beyond that basic narrative. In this sense i'm reminded of Rupert Pupkin, the lead character in Scorsese' seminal The King Of Comedy. Another from the self absorbed canon but with layers of depth and character that go way beyond what has been written for Jordan Belfort.
As I said earlier, this film is very enjoyable and expertly shot but it's Marty on his visual A game with everyone else at a solid B and that's not good enough for him.
Rating: 7.5/10 (B/B+)
12 Years A Slave
12 Years A Slave, the third film by director Steve McQueen, is a complete sea change from the palette of Wolf on Wall Street. It seems an obvious point to make but its worth bearing out. Whereas WoWS employs the entirety of the rainbow, TYAS dwells in autumnal flourishes of mauves, beiges and greens.
McQueen, who shot to fame with Hunger and Shame, brings back the claustrophobia (certainly of Shame) to this picture resulting in harrowing results.
Based on the experiences of Solomon Northup, an educated freeman turned slave (for, yep, 12 years), the film abandons an automatic scene-by-scene account to focus on the drawn out anguish and turmoil of key characters throughout its second half. Having set those as key factors as raison d'etre it's therefore vital to celebrate the performances here.
Michael Fassbender (who doesn't really make bad filmmaking choices) is on fiery form as the demonic antagonist to Chiwetel Ejiofor's Solomon. His inner turmoil over his forbidden endearment to Patsey (Lupita Nyong'o) is well balanced as expected. Speaking of Lupita Nyong'o, she is the absolute star in this. That's not a disservice to Chiwetel Ejiofor who is also heroically poignant placed in artful shots as well as emotive scenes such as 'Roll Jordan Roll' but Nyong'o (in no less than her debut) is the real sweat and guts of the picture.
Artful. I think that's perhaps where I have a tick against the film. There are certain scenes that belong to hang in a gallery as opposed to up on a screen. One such example shows Solomon hanging from various angles and vantage points. To me, that took me out of the picture and made me consider the beauty of the cinematography when I think I should have been left hypnotized by the severity of punishment and endurance of the man. There are some subjects where sheer beauty can at times hinder what is of course a very traumatic narrative and sometimes those worlds become attritional. It happens rarely here, but enough to make a point.
I don't want to end on a negative however. This is still filmmaking of the highest order told in a healthy 130 mins. Like Michael Haneke, McQueen seems bent on telling stories that are draining experiences (in the best sense), however unlike Haneke, McQueen can still learn that he doesn't always have to marry a signature visual style to a strong narrative. Three films in though and not a lame duck to be found and there are paths and fields yet to be ploughed.
That leaves a lot to be excited for as a viewer.
Rating: 9/10 (A-/A)
Inside Llewyn Davis
Give the cat an Oscar already!
The Coens' have a trackrecord of portraying losers, those lost in the headlights of the reality and dreams of an American life. A Serious Man, O Brother Where Art Thou and even a lesser work like Burn After Reading to a certain extent contains these traits.
Inside Llewyn Davis is no different in that sense. Llewyn Davis (played with an insouciant ease by Oscar Isaac) is a talented but socially inept musician, playing a gig here a gig there, sleeping on a sofa here a sofa there. Originally part of a duo, Davis is left to fight to find his own identity as a performer, after his partner commits suicide (memorably questioned by John Goodman's quirky oddball Roland)
Roland Turner: A solo act?
Llewyn Davis: No, I had a partner... he threw himself off the George Washington Bridge.
Roland Turner: George Washington Bridge? You throw yourself off the Brooklyn Bridge, traditionally. George Washington Bridge? Who does that?
What follows is a journey spanning no more than a few days but feels like the passage of a young man's lifetime. This is such a boon to the picture, and by being so a testament to the ability of the Coen's when they're at their peak. It just comes so naturally (perhaps why they and the film were maddeningly shunned at the Oscars). Of course at the heart of the film are the songs, mostly 50's folk ditties but all tenderly performed, mainly through a monochrome lens apart from highlight 'Please Mr Kennedy'.
To some, the latest Coen' offering will seem like a throwaway nugget. Plenty to admire but not a lot to really sink into. I would understand that. The plot is slight and it moves along in it's own ambling pace. However at 100 minutes for me the film acheives more than many try with over an hour longer running time. I look forward to heading back to that era and soaking in this story over and over again.
Like I said before, the Academy may have missed it but make sure you don't
Rating: 9/10 (A)
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