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.

Barry Lyndon

The period drama has become a stagnant and tired genre. It’s become a boil-in-the-bag, easy-to-use concept which has sadly become a staple of the melodrama and romance genres. Barry Lyndon is the ultimate exception to this. In a sense it is the period drama film. The film, like all of the other Stanley Kubrick films, carries itself with such a huge amount of grace that it almost becomes the pinnacle of that genre.

Barry Lyndon is the epic tale of Redmond Barry who lies, cheats and steals his way to becoming a part of the upper-class aristocracy. The three hour story is unlike others of the same vein as the way in which Kubrick moves the camera round the images and characters is an absolute turning point in cinematic history.

I’ve always thought of Kubrick as being the one director who actually knows how to move a camera and actually understands the importance of the camera. He never seems to move the people around the camera, which is often a fundamental mistake most directors make, but rather he manipulates the camera around the people. This is not to be seen as a bad thing, but rather a genuine stroke of genius; a way of drawing the camera and subject together.

The film uses a huge amount of natural light, which although may seem a pretty obvious choice, it seems to leave such a lasting impression on you once the film is over. It is not the daylight shooting that makes the film’s authenticity seem to bloom; it is the interior night shooting that is the film’s strong point. The use of candle lighting is something that is challenging as it produces such a warm and rounded image which is absolutely mesmerising. It also adds to the romance and flamboyancy of the costumes and sets that the characters are in. It also seems to draw focus to the characters and to the settings, as it only illuminates the area very close to the light source itself so essentially there are large sections of the frame that are encased in darkness and it is this contrast of light and dark within the frame that arguably makes the way the film has been made so utterly appealing.

The use of the camera itself is always the defining point in a Stanley Kubrick film and in Barry Lyndon he uses a lot telephoto shots which give the film a very flat and drained look and at times it also seems fuzzy. It this that gives the film a total sense of authenticity and it actually feels like the grand paintings that you often see in large stately homes. There is also a large amount of steadicam and tracking shots, which is always something that I’ve admired about Kubrick because it seems to leave the people the focus of the film, rather than detracting from them. These two techniques also make it seem that Kubrick is moving the camera around the people and the settings, allowing them to move as they normally would. It also makes it seem that he is documenting the actions rather than directing the actions for the sake of the camera.

I’ve always felt that Stanley Kubrick’s films look and seem timeless, they never seem to age or look dated, which also makes it interesting to work out when the events are supposed to have taken place. Even The Shining looks like it could be in a form of futuristic dystopia. Barry Lyndon however is the total opposite to this rule: it took us way into the past and showed us what it would be like to live in a historic dystopia where nothing is easy and we must try and keep trying to get what we want. The film is totally ambitious, daring and ruthless and it exploits this to largest degree and it does it very, very well.

The Wrestler

The Wrestler is the tragic story of Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson who after suffering with health problems is forced to retire but decides to return to the ring for one last fight. Although on the surface it sounds like a boil-in-the-bag sports tragedy, the film is heart-wrenching, obsessive and genuinely compelling. In essence, it’s all you can expect from a Darren Aronofsky film and more.

There’s no easy way to start to criticise what I loved most about the film because all the elements seemed to fit together perfectly. However, if I had to pick one it would be the casting of Mickey Rourke. Rourke himself, who has battled for a long time to reinvent himself and return to the big screen, couldn’t have been more perfect for this film. At times he plays it more like a documentary about himself than a fictional film about a wrestler and his final monologue is clearly not just about Randy’s torment, but Rourke’s. Even from the opening credits which show flyers from Randy’s wrestling career, it cannot help but be felt that it is not Randy’s face in those images, it is Rourke’s and if he doesn’t make his comeback from this and win and Oscar for it then it will be a sad day.

The way the film has been shot is also documentary-esque: the use of hand-held camera work may have seemed an obvious choice, but when coupled with the 16mm film stock that it was shot on, it somehow feels refreshing and appropriate for the subject matter. The use of 16mm also leaves a seemingly improvised feel to the film which works perfectly with the improvised feeling of the dialogue. This is not to say that these are weaknesses to the film, on the contrary they enhance the experience and draw you into the actions on the screen, leaving it with a phenomenal sensory experience that enhances the realism of the film to levels that are unimaginable.

The use of the sound in the film is also quite special as it is such a mixed use of natural sound which has been manipulated and produced in a way which is utterly swarming with realism. The natural sound when Randy is outside of the ring used the theatre space to give a close and tight experience that is quite claustrophobic, something that is reflected perfectly in the way in which it has been shot, not only in the film stock and hand-held, but in terms of shot choice and composition: the majority of shots were in extreme close-up to medium shot, which left it very flat and hued. However, the wrestling scenes used a similar type of sound which was very natural; however, the volume of overwhelming level of crowd noise was clearly manipulated. This mustn’t be considered a flaw or poor filmmaking, but rather a perfect replica of the sensory experience of being in a wrestling match. The actual volume and impact of the soundtrack can only be compared to David Lynch’s Wild at Heart – at times deafeningly loud but the way in carried itself was mind-blowing as it worked on every level and was so engulfing it filled the entire space of the theatre, leaving you feeling quite dizzy but the time the end credits roll.

In a recent Sight and Sound article, Aronofsky said that The Wrestler is a departure from the way in which he has made films before, instead adopting for a new crew and new approach to his filmmaking style. However, I don’t see this to be particularly true, as the themes of obsession and desire are still present as are the way in which he shows an uncomfortable level of violence and also how he has this gripping sense of realism which is at times shocking. In a sense, The Wrestler is more like his earlier work; PI and Requiem for a Dream rather than his last film The Fountain. As a curious little side note to the film and its relationship to The Fountain, it seemed quite fitting that Aronofsky produced The Wrestler after the infamous troubled production of The Fountain. Perhaps he has now learnt to take a greater control of his films and if this is so then it’s all the better for him as The Wrestler is potentially the finest of his work – it had all the potential to be a phenomenal film and it used all its potential with stunning results.

Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr Hunter S. Thompson

Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr Hunter S. Thompson tells the life and death of the infamous pop-culture icon and ‘Gonzo’ journalist Hunter S. Thompson. The documentary is at times very traditional in the way in which this life is told yet it at times often seems to veer away from the subject and within a few reels it seems to avoid very important elements of his psyche and subsequent death.

The film begins with noting his youth as the underdog; the middle-to-lower-class kid who hung around with the spoilt rich kids and never had a penny to his name. Although this section is interesting and clearly has salient information – we learn how he became interested in writing and the subject matters that he wrote about, it seems to be a little too obvious and at times rather bland. The admirable elements of this section though are the way in which the narration is not so much telling you what his life was like, which would have made the film so utterly unpalatable it would have been worth walking out over, but rather opting for excerpts from his books and writings. Although this too could be argued as being obvious and mainstream, I would rather hear narration about a writer through his writings rather than a hack script which tells us about what a terrible life he had and how we should all admire him because he went against the grain. The overall affect of the narration is that it doesn’t patronise us and leaves to make our own minds up about whether he is a certified genius or a rambling buffoon.

The middle section of the film is very hit and miss – the sections which discuss how he once tried to run for sheriff of Aspen are intriguing and ultimately display how someone who does go against the grain can bring voters out and can cause people to stop and think for themselves– something that seems all the more relevant within American society throughout the last six months. The lagging part of the film comes next, whereby it moves into a wandering section about how he befriended ex-presidents George McGovern and Jimmy Carter. Although it did hold my attention and it was interesting as these are the parts of his life that clearly shaped the way he wrote about politics and his ethos as a whole, it did seem to stray into a mumbling section whereby Hunter Thompson wasn’t mentioned but the inner workings of the two presidents’ campaigns were shown.

The real disappointment for the film came at the end, whereby his depressive psyche and subsequent death were traded for the above mentioned section. It seemed to tip-toe into why he had died, but just as it was starting to wade in, it quickly ran away. This fear was quite irritating, as it could have been such a darker and much more developed part of the film; shedding new light on the previous sections and showing how the American Dream that he had long come to admire and respect had come crumbling down beneath him. I would have had such respect for the film to have simply had the guts to have said that he despised the Bush Administration and everything about it and it can be said that this is the reason why he may have killed himself.

The impressive thing about the film is the amount of photographs, videos, tapes and other media that is present about him. He was obviously a man who taped and documented everything that he could and although he may never admit it, he enjoyed being in the spotlight as much as any other cultural figure.

Despite the fact that it somehow trades off the daring material for downright soft-option, Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr Hunter S. Thompson does show an interesting portrayal of its subject matter. However the problem becomes that although there is an entire ocean of Hunter S. Thompson material out there, he is such an enigma that any portrayal of him becomes valid and everyone will go and see it. That is the real disappointment.

Che: Parts One and Two

Steven Soderbergh’s latest instalments come in the four and a half hour epic that is Che, the now legendary story of Argentine doctor Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara and his two campaigns in Cuba and Bolivia.

Obviously the film’s defining characteristic is its narrative. Which may seem indigestive and, to some, unapproachable at the length it is. Although, the brilliant thing about it is that it is so unbelievably well paced: it never seems to drag and there never seems to be a lagging or unnecessary moment where each step along the incredible story seems absolutely screen-worthy. As mentioned above, the two films show two campaigns – the revolution in Cuba and the failed campaign in Bolivia; which led to his assassination. Although the two may at first glance seem very similar, they actually have totally different tones and themes throughout each narrative, resulting in rather mirroring texts.

Che: Part One is a quite straight-forward film in terms of how it portrays the revolution and Cuba’s rise to power over Fulgencio Batista’s dictatorship. However it is coupled with black and white excerpts from his address to the United Nations and various other events that occurred after the initial revolution and Che’s very brief stay in New York. Although the black and white scenes bracket the colour scenes and give a form of closure to them, allowing for necessary developments for part two, they seem at times quite inane. It leaves one wondering what it would have been like if the interview sections had been left out and what kind of development the film could have had.

Part Two, on the other hand, is somewhat slower burning and at times feels rather existential and sympathetic to Che. It shows how he can no longer function in “regular” society with his new wife and family; how he has been into hiding and has to deal with an ostensible celebrity status, and as the film progresses it seems that there are feelings of doubt and regret to their actions.

In terms of filmmaking and cinematic quality, the film is breathtaking. The way Soderbergh moves the camera around the landscapes is beautiful and as the film progresses; so does the quality, whilst at times it leaves quite a haunting feeling and by the closing half an hour it draining and bleak. The use of sound is also mind-blowing, with all channels of the soundtrack being used to genuinely encapsulate a feeling of at times freedom and space but by the end it feels drowning and engulfing, leaving the film’s themes and political notions to really shine through.

Benicio Del Toro’s acting in the film is also flawless, the quality of his portrayal is amazing and at times it feels like you’re actually watching Che speak. A similar kind of encapsulation can only be compared to Bruno Ganz’s depiction of Adolf Hitler in Der Untergang (Downfall). Each second that Che is on screen seems to have been carefully calculated and thought-out so that the utmost accuracy can be shown. This can also be said for the filmmaking too: as the film progresses it becomes richer and fuller and by the time the film has ended the text has now become so vast that ending and Che’s execution comes a shock and genuinely heart-breaking moment.

At first I thought the films would work better as one long epic, but on reflection perhaps they do work better as two films. The two narratives do oppose each other and do show very different times of Che’s life and if done as one, it could have been that the sudden change in the middle would have become too negative. For the being though, relish in the fact that the two separate films are glorious and provide everything you could need in an epic.

Le Conseguenze dell'amore (The Consequences of Love)

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.

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.

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.