Driftwood

Whether you have an opinion on it or not, you have to admit that the use of Digital Video is a bold choice. It’s bold because essentially it can look either unbelievably amateur or it have some form of social relevance and link to the subject of the film. Unfortunately, Tim Sullivan’s Driftwood is the former of these. Personally, I feel that DV is a mixed bag. On the one hand, it can work very well and have a genuine eeriness about it (The Blair Witch Project), it can be a genuine way of tying together social commentaries with social significance (28 Days Later) or it can be totally useless and not provide anything at all, which is the case with Driftwood.

However, I do feel sorry for it because when it started and became apparent that it was shot on DV, it seemed like it was going to be a genuine attempt to be smart, witty and an interesting twist on a rather increasingly stagnant and tired genre and in all honesty I was quite frustrated when this was not the case.

The film’s premise is quite simple, even if it does sound a little tacky: a teenage boy who has been increasingly obsessed with death since his brother’s death is sent to a rehabilitation camp or “attitude adjustment camp” as it is referred to in the film. On the surface, I felt like it may have been interesting as my initial presumption with the film was that it was going to be a slow-burning, stark and utterly bleak psychological perspective of the American juvenile rehabilitation system and had it stayed within this realm, this review might have been very different. The problem was though, that this simply wasn’t the case and the film wasn’t daring enough and throughout it lacked the audacity to stand up and rely on simpler methods of story-telling, while at the same time taking advantage of good prospects that are right in front of it. However, it fell back on tiresome generic conventions and felt too premature, where the script itself could have done with a couple more re-writes just to have lifted it a little more. Had it exploited the potential of being more about juvenile imprisonment, the film could have such temerity and it would have felt all the more socially significant. I may have then had more respect for its use of DV.

In the specially filmed introduction, director Tim Sullivan and lead actor Diamond Dallas Page stress the point that places such as Driftwood do exist in America and characters such as Captain Kennedy are real, which although hardly comes as a shock (tell me if I sound too British), but what is more important is not necessarily whether they exist or not, but rather what impact these places and people have on the children that attend these institutions and the social significance that it has on the state.

In terms of genre and convention, the film at times becomes almost textbook in the way it is edited and pieced together. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not adverse to genre and generic convention, but there is a level where it simply becomes trashy and cliché and when going into a film with a plot outline such as Driftwood’s, I always feel it necessary to brace myself for some tackiness, but I always think that what lifts a horror film from straight cliché to genuine horror, is its ability to play with the genre and how self-reflexive it becomes. If Driftwood had played on itself a little more and accepted the fact that it was a horror film, I may have appreciated it more, but it seemed like it was relying on it too much when essentially it should have gone the extra mile so that it shone out over other films of the same vein. I also felt that if it had perhaps fallen back and harked more on old-school horror techniques, rather than using modern-day standard techniques of scares, then it may have had such greater potential to have worked.

Although having the occasional segment or section of decency, Driftwood is slightly sub-par and very slightly ham-handed to have been given a better release. It does however have some promise and provides adequate entertainment, even if it does feel a little shy and reclusive at times. Appreciation must be given for the way the film’s conclusion is dealt with because there isn’t one, which although may seem frustrating to some, came as a welcome surprise.

I would also like to thank Anchor Bay for having given me three free DVDs (The Unnamable, The Unnamable Returns and House) and a signed picture of Tim Sullivan as a reward for sitting through the film.

Vicky Christina Barcelona

Titles are important. A title should be reflective and to a certain degree should also be ambiguous; leaving the viewer to decide for themselves what the film is going to be about and not spoon-feeding them what the subject of the film is going to be. Vicky Christina Barcelona is not one of those titles. In fact, I think the title is so weak that alternative titles should be ‘Woody Allen Makes Another Attempt at Trying to be Clever and Interesting but Fails Once Again’ or ‘Middle-Class Sniggering Perverted Sex Romp’.

The film itself was quite a mixed bag and I couldn’t decide whether or not I enjoyed it or not: there were parts where I thought that it was almost classic Woody Allen and found it genuinely quite interesting and mature, but then that was quickly outweighed by feelings of resentment and sheer irritation which emanated from the central characters as they squirm around the screen pretending like they’re happy and know what life means.

Although the characters are one-dimensional and irritating, I feel bad for them because they’ll never overcome their crippling neuroses and inadequacies. Of course, this is Allen’s entire intention, and to be fair, you’ve got to hand it to the man for making a film which explores thematic notions such as having wasted your entire life and never actually finding the right person for you and then to aim the film at a demographic consisting almost entirely of middle-aged and middle-class snobs.

The one-dimensionality doesn’t stop there though; right from the offset we hear voiceover. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to the idea of voiceover narration, on the contrary I find it work incredibly well (Adaptation, Johnny Got His Gun) and often downright beautiful (The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford). But when you literally explain the thoughts and feelings of your main characters through narration, you can’t help but feel like you’ve been condescended. The other thing is, if you use voiceover then pick your voice actor well and bear in mind his or her sole purpose is to speak to the audience directly, so don’t use someone who sounds like they’re trying to sell you home insurance or cleaning products. The narration had an overwhelming feeling like being in an advert created by the Barcelona tourism board.

However, it wasn’t all that bad and there were things I did like about it. Its use of colour was admiral and it sold the landscapes and surroundings well; giving a well-rounded emphasis on the artistic theme, even if it did feel at times like you’d just had a hose of brightly coloured paint sprayed all over your face for an hour and a half. I also enjoyed the way that Allen directed the camera, often subjecting us to meandering shots rather than using standard two-shots and point-and-shoot methods. In a sense, the cinematography was classic Woody Allen as it had a very European cinematic flare about it and this is what I’ve always loved about him.

In terms of plot, narrative and writing it was quite good, but the narration really let it down. It also felt like actions were happening too fast and you didn’t have time to catch your breath before the next event was happening. If it was slightly longer and more about the psychological mindsets of the characters and the repercussions of this on each other then it might have been slightly better and more interesting. I also found that the scene at the end with Juan Antonio, Vicky and Maria Elena which culminated in Vicky getting shot in the hand was a not-so-subtle combination of pointless flamboyancy and the strangest deus ex machina I’ve ever seen. It also had a strange reminiscence of the scene toward the end of Hannah and Her Sisters, in which Mickey nearly kills himself.

Vicky Christina Barcelona wasn’t as bad as I’m making it out to be, the problem lies with it though is that it only has some good things in it, it has some good camerawork, it has some good acting in it, it has some good directing in it, it has some good themes in it, but there just isn’t enough of it.

Revolutionary Road

Sam Mendes has potentially one of the most unique ways of looking at American society. He always seems to have a certain way of showing us the stereotypical mask but under this there is essentially something darker and deeper than meets the eye, something ghostly that cannot be escaped. His latest instalment, Revolutionary Road, is no exception to this. In fact, it could be argued as being his finest work to date.

In terms of plot and narrative, the film cannot be compared to any other that I’ve seen in recent months. The pacing and plot development are flawless and the way in which it engrosses and surrounds you is so drawing that the film itself feels about 10 minutes long. The exposition and character depth that is explored is also almost perfect and by the time the ending credits roll it makes you feel almost guilty for having watched it, the voyeuristic nature and unpatronising way that the film is told can only be compared to Hitchcock’s finest.

The film follows the young and aspirational Wheeler family whose goal is to eventually move to Paris to start their life again. However, when problems develop at home and the happy veneer that the couple have starts to crack, the film quickly develops into an exploration of mind games that the couple play on each other and affect this has on the family as a whole. The film is a nostalgic look into the struggles of a young couple and their adaptation to the social surroundings that they have, it has everything you could want from a 1950s drama, but all the guts of contemporary cinema. It also seems to imply heavily that the problems the family are having are still present and still as valid as they were fifty years ago.

Aesthetically the film handles a difficult task very well as it could have easy fallen into a trap of Sirkian glamour and mid-class dialogue and seemed more like a prequel to American Beauty. However this is not the case at all, Mendes does a great job of applying aesthetic principles used and perfected by Hitchcock and Sirk but brings it up to date by not being so overtly glamorous and uses much more muted tones and colour palettes. The effect of this leaves you with a much more natural and honest interpretation of the film’s themes and settings: it has all the charm and brilliance of a period drama, but has none condescending traits.

As a couple, Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio couldn’t be more perfect on screen; they mirror each other with such elegance that it becomes hard not to like them and by the time you’re leaving the cinema it feels like you’ve just watched a home-movie with a sense of empathy stays with you for long while after. Also, think of the way in which they were in Titanic and the reflection of that in which they are now – that young and sprightly couple have now grown up (if only Jack hadn’t died that is) and have more problems with each other than you can imagine.

In terms of Revolutionary Road and Mendes’ career, I may be bold to think that it’s his best, but in terms of actual depth; quality and sheer brutal honesty it cannot be compared to his others and it certainly haunts you afterwards.

Rachel Getting Married

Here’s a checklist for ten things you’re guaranteed to see in any dysfunctional-family film:

1. An annoying child, or children, of any either gender.
2. A strange and quirky father or father figure.
3. Divorced parents.
4. A self-proclaimed “outcast” or “misunderstood” character.
5. Long, whining passages of dialogue; or monologue by any of the above character types describing how bad their life, or the world is.
6. Lots of booze, or at least one character who is boozed up.
7. Lots of arguing, which eventually lead to a character or preferably characters crying.
8. Easy-to-digest, ‘it’s all okay at the end’ narratives.
9. A death or some kind of injury.
10. The feeling that at the end you’ve just been patronised.

Jonathan Demme’s Rachel Getting Married is no exception to this whatsoever.

The film has an easy-to-follow, digestible narrative that is so ridiculously tame and condescending that by the time you’re walking home, you’re so safe in the knowledge that everything’s going to be okay, it feels like you’ve not actually seen a drama film, but rather a bed-time story.

The film follows the story of Kym who’s just got out of rehab and is spending the weekend back at her family home for her sister’s wedding, pretty ordinary so far, eh? The film opens on Kym (who’s name is also quirkily spelt, just like her quirky self) sitting on a bench waiting to be picked up by her father. We see her with a thick layer of black eyeliner and ‘eff-me haircut’; she then takes a drag from a cigarette. After this was over, I thought I was watching teenagers down at the local park and then realised I was in the cinema. Anyway, back to the film.

As with any normal wedding, the house is an epicentre of mayhem, there are characters of all walks of life doing all manner of normal, wedding-based activities. Then suddenly we see Rachel trying on her wedding dress (did I mention there was a wedding happening because so far I haven’t seen or heard it mentioned in the film itself so far) and as those girls tend to do, as soon as she sees Kym, she goes insane: screaming, jumping up and down and rolling around. At least that’s how I would imagine girls act when they see each other, I can’t be certain of that. There’s then more embarrassing dialogue as the two reminisce over a fantasy that one of them had when they were little, I can’t remember which one it was exactly because they kept talking over each other at the top of their voices in stereotypical, nails-on-a-chalkboard voices and as soon as that happens I can’t understand a word that is being spoken.

The film’s true embarrassments come in two scenes, the first happens around ten minutes later and lasts what feels to be about forty minutes, but is more realistically about fifteen. I’m talking of course, about the toasting scene. This is potentially one of the most disposable scenes ever; the only thing that compares to it is the dancing scene which happens later. The toasting however, introduces many characters which do not motivate or shape the narrative or plot, but rather slow it down. Valuable screen time is therefore wasted and which could have been spent developing the psyche of the principal characters and would have made it much more gutsy and daring and ultimately a much more interesting film, but instead we’re subjected to stories about how the friends of the couple-to-be met them and how much they love them. Although sweet and occasionally comical, they add nothing, literally nothing. All that happens in this scene that is remotely interesting is Kym makes a tit out of herself in front of the family, which leads to another argument. The argument of course it full of half-baked psychological nonsense, which comes from Kym and Rachel. Rachel, by the way is conveniently studying for her PhD in psychology. Very well placed, don’t you think?

Conversely though, you have to give it to Rachel Getting Married for using scenes such as this and also the dishwasher-loading competition scene, as they do add nothing and to script scenes where nothing happens and we learn nothing about characters, instead opting for observational scenes, is quite daring and it is a bold choice because you run the risk of boring your audience. However, it doesn’t use them in this way and it doesn’t exploit this potential and just as it begins to break a taboo or just as it is about to do something interesting, it creeps back in its shell and returns to another boring conventional plot device.

I also felt that to explicitly explain what had happened to their brother was another soft-option. The scariest thing about an audience is their imagination: if you tease them or dangle the notion of something horrible or gripping or even violent in front of them and then leave it to their imagination then what they think they saw or what they think happens is far worse then anything that you could ever show or explain to them. This is not that I approve or find the accidental drowning of your bother acceptable or on any level decent, but rather that if they had left it simply that he was dead of unknown and unspeakable circumstances then my imagination can run wild. The last thing that a drama should be is patronising and spoon-feeding and sadly that is the case with Rachel Getting Married. The film has wonderful potential, but unfortunately none of the guts.