Paolo Sorrentino is potentially the best director I’ve discovered in the last couple of years. His films are almost in every way perfect and awe inspiring, they show a world whereby everything is bleak and pessimistic and even escape is impossible. Le Conseguenze dell'amore (The Consequences of Love) is his second film but by this point in his career he has shown more ambition and more talent than most of Hollywood and Europe, along with the wisdom and sophistication of many older directors. Contemporary cinema’s focus at the moment seems to be the smart; edgy and stylish thriller. Although I’m not opposed to this what frustrates me is that the direction of this focus is, as usual, westwards with such films as Michael Clayton and Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead and although I enjoyed both films greatly I can’t help but feel Le Conseguenze dell'amore did it better than them and essentially did it before them.
The film follows Titta di Girolamo played by the phenomenal Toni Servillo, who has been living a self-confessed boring and repetitive existence is a hotel room for the past ten years, his family have left him and everyone seems out to get him. His only distractions from this are his two habits: once a week he indulges in heroin and once a year he has all the blood in his body replaced. These two are seemingly ironic as they both involve change, but he himself is incapable of change; instead he must remain the same unhappy person for the rest of his life. The two can also been seen as being rather comforting and grounding as they principally remind him that he is human in every way and this is unchangeable. Titta’s only chance of escape is with the barmaid in the hotel, Sofia, but even at the chance of escape it is denied to him.
Sorrentino’s flawless direction and use of art direction give the film a sense of beauty which begins to feels somewhat ironic given the established sense of loneliness and isolation that Titta feels. This existence that he leads is so perfectly well executed that even when a surprise visit from his estranged brother and also the slightest dangling of a love interest fail to rouse him from his deadpan and stern personality. Even at the end when he is finally met with his demise there is no sense of remorse or regret, only the faint hint that he is disappointed that he is about to die.
As mentioned earlier, every aspect of the film is perfect and it leaves you with a sense that every constructed element has been perfectly timed and calculated to leave a sensory experience that is unlike any other. His use of music; sound; editing and cinematography seem unquestionable and at times his camera seems to perform movements that seem physically impossible; gliding through objects, people or the frame itself with a magically wistfulness that can only be compared to the likes of Stanley Kubrick or Jean-Luc Goddard. The overall affect of Sorrentino’s cinema leaves you drained and questioning the world around you much as the protagonists of his films do, the show you that the world is not romantic, it is not dreamlike but it is essentially a cold, harsh and lonely place whereby you will always be second place and things will never be reversed. Sorrentino’s films are the epitome of everything that is ignored in cinema today, but the epitome of everything that should be seen.
Sunday 28 December 2008
Sunday 14 December 2008
Caché (Hidden)
There’s only one true way to read Caché (Hidden) and that’s by not listing or reacting to what you see, but by when you see it. Although on the surface it may seem like a linear narrative, you can see it as a purposely non-linear and disjointed narrative. Take for example the ending, although it can be seen as being a conclusive ending and interpretative in multiple ways (we’ll come to that later) you could say that the ending occurs at any time and it’s all by coincidence. And that it what drives the film – coincidence.
The film’s key thread is the image and what our, and their, understanding of the image is. On first glance it seems to be voyeuristic and the way in which we become involved in this work is very Hitchcockian. Take for example the way in which you may not sympathise with the central characters and the actions they take, but there is still a sense that you might one day see yourself in their shoes. Also, look at the glamour and design of the films, Hitchcock’s films; like Haneke’s display flamboyancy and gratuity of the way in which they portray a mise-en-scène of obnoxiousness and contemporary design. For two perfect examples, look at the way in which Hidden’s set design is shot and created very much in the way Rope is designed – from the flat and theatrical perspective, whilst also displaying the arrogance of contemporary design.
The nature of the tapes and the nature of the real world are one and the same – both are taunting and both create horrors that shouldn’t be reminded. Essentially, the tapes are the real world and the real world becomes the tapes – if you consider how the tapes remind Georges of his childhood and his childhood remind Georges of his real life then the two become the same and both are as deep, depressing and horrific as the last. Georges is tormented by his troublesome past in which he was a spoilt kid who wanted nothing more than to be the centre of attention, who will innocently and naively risk his future to get what he wants. Grown up Georges is the same. He wants no more than to be the centre of attention and to live it with no more honesty than that. The difference in the way in the two perceive their worlds: the younger is naïve to the point of embarrassment, but the elder is haunted by his own fragility and the way that he in incommunicable with his surroundings; although he may have aged and gained his sensibility – his; wife; child and secure job are trophies of this – he still cannot move beyond his childish self. Something that is ultimately his downfall.
Aesthetically the film is quite typically European; the way use of the entire frame is utilised and composed giving the film meaning and thematic significance that no Westerner can even begin to comprehend. This again draws into the notion that the image is more significant than the text and the spoken word. To support this it can be noted that the film uses a large amount of off-screen dialogue – the way in which Haneke lingers on framings of the tapes whilst characters talk in the background can be said that his focus is not so much on the characters, but on something much deeper and darker. The sensory experience of this portrays a vast and expansive world that is mirrored perfectly in the world on screen.
As mentioned earlier the film has an ending which is not only multiply interpretative but is also questionable in the way it sheds light on the film up until that point. For example, although the two sons finally meet at the end and you would think that they have a negative encounter and thus a seemingly unhopeful ending, you could say that it is hopeful and that it simply means nothing. However, I would question when this happens and not why and what it means. For example, you don’t know what they say and also you don’t know what Pierrot’s argument with his mother, seen earlier in the film, has meant so far; so you could say that the ending actually happens before Pierrot’s argument with his mother and that the ending only occurs at the end to throw you off balance and to question the ending in respect of the film as a whole. The only problem with accepting that the ending is a falsity and non-linear, is that you begin to question when other narrative threads begin to unwind. For example, you could question in what order the tapes arrive and then what the meaning of each is at each noted point in the film. To begin down this road leads to a relentless and confusing ending whereby nothing is resolved and anything is possible. Consider that it shows us nothing and paradoxically everything that you have never wanted to see, consider that Michael Haneke’s world shows us a very glamorous one. Consider that Michael Haneke’s world shows us a very perceptive one and consider that Michael Haneke’s world shows us a very real one.
The film’s key thread is the image and what our, and their, understanding of the image is. On first glance it seems to be voyeuristic and the way in which we become involved in this work is very Hitchcockian. Take for example the way in which you may not sympathise with the central characters and the actions they take, but there is still a sense that you might one day see yourself in their shoes. Also, look at the glamour and design of the films, Hitchcock’s films; like Haneke’s display flamboyancy and gratuity of the way in which they portray a mise-en-scène of obnoxiousness and contemporary design. For two perfect examples, look at the way in which Hidden’s set design is shot and created very much in the way Rope is designed – from the flat and theatrical perspective, whilst also displaying the arrogance of contemporary design.
The nature of the tapes and the nature of the real world are one and the same – both are taunting and both create horrors that shouldn’t be reminded. Essentially, the tapes are the real world and the real world becomes the tapes – if you consider how the tapes remind Georges of his childhood and his childhood remind Georges of his real life then the two become the same and both are as deep, depressing and horrific as the last. Georges is tormented by his troublesome past in which he was a spoilt kid who wanted nothing more than to be the centre of attention, who will innocently and naively risk his future to get what he wants. Grown up Georges is the same. He wants no more than to be the centre of attention and to live it with no more honesty than that. The difference in the way in the two perceive their worlds: the younger is naïve to the point of embarrassment, but the elder is haunted by his own fragility and the way that he in incommunicable with his surroundings; although he may have aged and gained his sensibility – his; wife; child and secure job are trophies of this – he still cannot move beyond his childish self. Something that is ultimately his downfall.
Aesthetically the film is quite typically European; the way use of the entire frame is utilised and composed giving the film meaning and thematic significance that no Westerner can even begin to comprehend. This again draws into the notion that the image is more significant than the text and the spoken word. To support this it can be noted that the film uses a large amount of off-screen dialogue – the way in which Haneke lingers on framings of the tapes whilst characters talk in the background can be said that his focus is not so much on the characters, but on something much deeper and darker. The sensory experience of this portrays a vast and expansive world that is mirrored perfectly in the world on screen.
As mentioned earlier the film has an ending which is not only multiply interpretative but is also questionable in the way it sheds light on the film up until that point. For example, although the two sons finally meet at the end and you would think that they have a negative encounter and thus a seemingly unhopeful ending, you could say that it is hopeful and that it simply means nothing. However, I would question when this happens and not why and what it means. For example, you don’t know what they say and also you don’t know what Pierrot’s argument with his mother, seen earlier in the film, has meant so far; so you could say that the ending actually happens before Pierrot’s argument with his mother and that the ending only occurs at the end to throw you off balance and to question the ending in respect of the film as a whole. The only problem with accepting that the ending is a falsity and non-linear, is that you begin to question when other narrative threads begin to unwind. For example, you could question in what order the tapes arrive and then what the meaning of each is at each noted point in the film. To begin down this road leads to a relentless and confusing ending whereby nothing is resolved and anything is possible. Consider that it shows us nothing and paradoxically everything that you have never wanted to see, consider that Michael Haneke’s world shows us a very glamorous one. Consider that Michael Haneke’s world shows us a very perceptive one and consider that Michael Haneke’s world shows us a very real one.
Sunday 7 December 2008
W (dub-ya).
I was nervous about seeing this film as I felt that it would sit on the fence too much and become clouded by a haze of admiration for the subject matter. The other reviews I’d read so far seemed to say that it was neither a glowing biopic, nor was it a portrayal of the effects of the world-wide devastation of the Bush era. What I found was that although it did attack the Bush Administration, it cautiously approached the subject through subtle and often not so subtle ways. The narrative structure for example, one the surface may seem to be a simple crossing of the sections of his life that the film purposely chose to explore or it could be shown as being an in-direct attack: the way in which it shows all the stupid and humiliating things he has done runs parallel with the serious and political scenes and culminates with the scene whereby at a press conference he cannot answer questions that doubt and penetrate him right to the heart of the matter. This scene also interrogates the notion that not just his political life, but his personal life has been a complete shambles. It’s also constructed in a way in which welcomes an unexpected sense of sympathy – something of which I didn’t think would occur.
The film itself shows a strange hybrid of genres, whereby it is essentially has elements of documentary – the rioting and bombing shots are clearly real footage taken from news and television footage – but it also has a sense of the traditional biopic whereby established actors are brought in to portray a section or sections of an iconic life. This biopic nature of the film worked effectively in showing a sympathetic side to his life (of course it is obvious this had to be explored so that a release can be given) but it this sympathy that seems quite terrifying. This terror is a strong vein through the film that is not so much directly concerned with the war itself, but rather the justification for actually going to war and the way in which they blind the population of America into believing that it really is worth it.
The indirect attack on Bush is also present in the way in which you never really see Bush himself lending an opinion or ever really engaging with the subject of war himself – simply lending weak and unsupported actions such us “I have the last say around here”. This itself is worrying because as you see in the film, he was encouraged and manipulated by the people around him; both in his political life with his administration who clearly acted the way they did to boost their own egos and careers, but also in his personal life with the triangular relationship he has with his father and the Middle-Eastern conflict which has been present through the majority of his political and adult life.
The only aspect of the film that didn’t quite sit well was the writing of Colin Powell’s character. Although Jeffery Wright pulled out an amazing performance, it was just too difficult to believe that Powell himself was as level-headed an objectionable to the entire war and to think that he hid it all from the public eye with a Bush-supportive guise seemed too far-fetched and hazy.
Aesthetically, the film seemed quite cartoony which a picturesque quality to it that is only really seen in Sirkian melodrama. Although this can be argued as being quite a weakness to the film, I would argue it as a positive because it adds to the ridicule and falsity of the era that it is showing us. Of course the problem with this is that it seems rather obvious and if a trend begins then sadly the nature of this would become ubiquitous and as always the nature of these is that the element ultimately watered-down so that it is lost in world of inappropriate and disparate contexts. Because of the cartoony nature of the film mentioned earlier, you could say that it ties in quite well with other contempory political films such as Persepolis and Waltz with Bashir, although the blinding difference being that the latter two are literally animated, W. is not entirely different in the way it deals with the subject matter: a self-mocking way and ridiculing manner whilst displaying the flaws of the society and characters that surround and create it.
On the whole it was a worthwhile and unique experience and the way it directly chose to sit in the middle and analyse both sides was a positive as it could have so easily fallen into the trap of being a fictional Fahrenheit 9/11. W. is an intellectual and discussion-provoking film with an unintentional but welcoming roller-coaster emotional ride of even-handedness coupled with sheer unashamed outrage at one of the most contentious and iconic world leaders of the last ten years. It truly showed a young boy who never wanted to grow up.
The film itself shows a strange hybrid of genres, whereby it is essentially has elements of documentary – the rioting and bombing shots are clearly real footage taken from news and television footage – but it also has a sense of the traditional biopic whereby established actors are brought in to portray a section or sections of an iconic life. This biopic nature of the film worked effectively in showing a sympathetic side to his life (of course it is obvious this had to be explored so that a release can be given) but it this sympathy that seems quite terrifying. This terror is a strong vein through the film that is not so much directly concerned with the war itself, but rather the justification for actually going to war and the way in which they blind the population of America into believing that it really is worth it.
The indirect attack on Bush is also present in the way in which you never really see Bush himself lending an opinion or ever really engaging with the subject of war himself – simply lending weak and unsupported actions such us “I have the last say around here”. This itself is worrying because as you see in the film, he was encouraged and manipulated by the people around him; both in his political life with his administration who clearly acted the way they did to boost their own egos and careers, but also in his personal life with the triangular relationship he has with his father and the Middle-Eastern conflict which has been present through the majority of his political and adult life.
The only aspect of the film that didn’t quite sit well was the writing of Colin Powell’s character. Although Jeffery Wright pulled out an amazing performance, it was just too difficult to believe that Powell himself was as level-headed an objectionable to the entire war and to think that he hid it all from the public eye with a Bush-supportive guise seemed too far-fetched and hazy.
Aesthetically, the film seemed quite cartoony which a picturesque quality to it that is only really seen in Sirkian melodrama. Although this can be argued as being quite a weakness to the film, I would argue it as a positive because it adds to the ridicule and falsity of the era that it is showing us. Of course the problem with this is that it seems rather obvious and if a trend begins then sadly the nature of this would become ubiquitous and as always the nature of these is that the element ultimately watered-down so that it is lost in world of inappropriate and disparate contexts. Because of the cartoony nature of the film mentioned earlier, you could say that it ties in quite well with other contempory political films such as Persepolis and Waltz with Bashir, although the blinding difference being that the latter two are literally animated, W. is not entirely different in the way it deals with the subject matter: a self-mocking way and ridiculing manner whilst displaying the flaws of the society and characters that surround and create it.
On the whole it was a worthwhile and unique experience and the way it directly chose to sit in the middle and analyse both sides was a positive as it could have so easily fallen into the trap of being a fictional Fahrenheit 9/11. W. is an intellectual and discussion-provoking film with an unintentional but welcoming roller-coaster emotional ride of even-handedness coupled with sheer unashamed outrage at one of the most contentious and iconic world leaders of the last ten years. It truly showed a young boy who never wanted to grow up.
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