So here we are again. 5AM seems like a reasonable time to head home, eating has stood down to make room for free wine, running between shows and taking calls from increasingly fatigued media types.
I’ve never blogged about festivals before. Too wary of saying anything untoward about a show, a venue, a person, a blog, a newspaper, a broadcasting corporation, one of my colleagues, one of my team, how everyone at fringe towers fancies men, how eating falafel every other day feels very comforting, how one gradually loses their mind and then finds it again deep in a venue specialising in physical theatre and invisible trapeze hidden beneath a secret door in a letter box.
My idea was to try and capture the uniqueness of working arts festivals. The sudden change of pace, the ability to get up for work and be productive after 4 hours sleep and too many glasses of wine on an empty stomach. The idea that everyone suddenly knows someone everywhere and it’s not odd to have several places where one knows there will be company. And good company at that.
The consuming factor of festivals, for me, is the idea that someone super random may make some kind of discovery, see something wonderful they wouldn’t usually – and all through no particular art or design. The simplicity of open arts means that working within a festival makes me no different from a punter; if it did, maybe I wouldn’t have had a muffin thrown at me from the stage to pull my concentration into check in a dozy moment mid show on Thursday night.
In the last week, I have laughed, pondered, seen some amazing dance moves, discovered Dave Callan is the best man in the world, stood in the pouring rain to put the Fringe on the tele box, seen a willy, seen glittered breasts, diluted my hangover into a 30 minute walk to work rather than a full day blackout on more than three occasions, been annoyed at people’s poor wording and sometime objectionable behavior, been cheered by umpteen more people’s great wording and supremely wonderful behavior. I have yet to cry; that day may come. I have yet to make a complete idiot of myself in front of someone off the tele; that day will come.
Friday, 25 February 2011
Monday, 14 February 2011
Four Stars
I have always had a problem with nail biting. Let’s hope Portman can get it under control before the baby (wee Oscar) comes. Four star Black Swan has been openly referred to as ‘bananas’ and ‘bonkers’ which yes it is, but very quickly, is that because it’s a film about a lady going crazy in a mostly mysterious profession? Mysterious, bar the stories of broken bones, vicious ego and stifling competition.
Portman’s Nina is seething with such exhausted frustration that she manages to keep it together for over half the film is a wonder. That feeling of a tightening all through ones’ world – wanting to just ask questions, accept some soothing love and spill out mind whirls is a reality few people avoid completely. Portman pushes hard on the emotional realities of insecurity about who one is. Her desperately competitive and malicious mother makes the first hour of this film deeply troubling to watch; barely watching a created being, no sense of self exists for poor Nina.
Not unlike our discovered protagonist in Catfish. So unsure and full of longing that the only natural conclusion is one of sprawling deceit. I wouldn’t want to ruin this documentary – debate rages about whether this is a documentary or an elaborate ruse – to me it’s a documentary as that’s how the filmmaker wants it to be received. I see no further reason to tear possible falsities or coincidences apart. Well, maybe a wee bit of tearing. But without spraying spoilers all over this blog like a wet dog – the creation of characters and their obligations to others first and foremost are extraordinary. Film subject Nev Schulman at one point asks why his brother, the filmmaker, insists on continuing to film as he feels more and more uncomfortable with where the story is headed. He, as us, is reminded he has agreed to whatever was going to happen, and therefore has handed over more than expected to his sniggering brother, his mate, and a couple of reasonably shoddy handheld cameras.
Over the last month I have seen several stellar films. Several of these films fall into a great human nature ditch – to what extent to we control our fate. Allow me to illustrate. Exit Through The Gift Shop is one of the oddest laugh out loud films I have seen in a while, besides True Grit, but I get a feeling the Coen Brothers' rider was laughing gas and shrooms. For those of you that know little about what is commonly known as ‘The Bansky’ film – this documentary is the work of Bansky – rather than a film about the pesky stencil wielding Bristolian. The subject becomes Mr Brainwash, or just Terry, a man, who quite astonishingly created a multi-million dollar fortune which, through Bansky’s eyes, was created through absolute sheer gall and one massive misunderstanding.
There is a sense in which all the pondering and insecurity the world stirs maybe should be kept to the cunning and relaxed approach of Bansky on screen, or even the gentle and honest approach of Catfish, a film which sees lives thrown about like a cat in a washing machine, (emerging soggy, shuddering but eventually proud and unperturbed after the ordeal.) Black Swan is a tough watch, and the music of Swan Lake, though spectacular, is not wholly soothing. I wonder how many broken people, determined to make their graceful mark on something (swan analogy) and longed to reach the top of something since wished that Bansky’s cynicism post Terry had hit them... ‘I used to encourage everyone to make art, not so much now.’
Portman’s Nina is seething with such exhausted frustration that she manages to keep it together for over half the film is a wonder. That feeling of a tightening all through ones’ world – wanting to just ask questions, accept some soothing love and spill out mind whirls is a reality few people avoid completely. Portman pushes hard on the emotional realities of insecurity about who one is. Her desperately competitive and malicious mother makes the first hour of this film deeply troubling to watch; barely watching a created being, no sense of self exists for poor Nina.
Not unlike our discovered protagonist in Catfish. So unsure and full of longing that the only natural conclusion is one of sprawling deceit. I wouldn’t want to ruin this documentary – debate rages about whether this is a documentary or an elaborate ruse – to me it’s a documentary as that’s how the filmmaker wants it to be received. I see no further reason to tear possible falsities or coincidences apart. Well, maybe a wee bit of tearing. But without spraying spoilers all over this blog like a wet dog – the creation of characters and their obligations to others first and foremost are extraordinary. Film subject Nev Schulman at one point asks why his brother, the filmmaker, insists on continuing to film as he feels more and more uncomfortable with where the story is headed. He, as us, is reminded he has agreed to whatever was going to happen, and therefore has handed over more than expected to his sniggering brother, his mate, and a couple of reasonably shoddy handheld cameras.
Over the last month I have seen several stellar films. Several of these films fall into a great human nature ditch – to what extent to we control our fate. Allow me to illustrate. Exit Through The Gift Shop is one of the oddest laugh out loud films I have seen in a while, besides True Grit, but I get a feeling the Coen Brothers' rider was laughing gas and shrooms. For those of you that know little about what is commonly known as ‘The Bansky’ film – this documentary is the work of Bansky – rather than a film about the pesky stencil wielding Bristolian. The subject becomes Mr Brainwash, or just Terry, a man, who quite astonishingly created a multi-million dollar fortune which, through Bansky’s eyes, was created through absolute sheer gall and one massive misunderstanding.
There is a sense in which all the pondering and insecurity the world stirs maybe should be kept to the cunning and relaxed approach of Bansky on screen, or even the gentle and honest approach of Catfish, a film which sees lives thrown about like a cat in a washing machine, (emerging soggy, shuddering but eventually proud and unperturbed after the ordeal.) Black Swan is a tough watch, and the music of Swan Lake, though spectacular, is not wholly soothing. I wonder how many broken people, determined to make their graceful mark on something (swan analogy) and longed to reach the top of something since wished that Bansky’s cynicism post Terry had hit them... ‘I used to encourage everyone to make art, not so much now.’
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
Hot Hot Heat
My next blog was going to be about films. I finally succumbed to checking my blog hits (smash) and the blogs about films seemed to be most popular. So I was going to just write them, then, in the style of a flash flood, tsunami or hurricane, weather (otherwise known as 'things that happen in Queensland') got in the way. This is some chat about 40 degrees, and some.
The Sunday just past – the one that ran over the end of January like a ‘hey, get over it, it is freekin’ twenty eleven and you were scared of the millinium bug. Pah, try adulthood.’ Was forty degrees in Adelaide, South Australia. I was not aware it was over 40 degrees until I had walked over 2kms in it. I was sweaty. And not the sexy Slave 4 U Britney kind - the normal kind - where hair sticks to your face in a comb over and one has to walk like a duck-cum-penguin to prevent a childless future because ones upper thighs have sought each other’s company in a simultaneous battle against sweat and becoming sandpaper. Here are my observations of plus 40 degree days and Australia.
Air Conditioning. People who don’t have air conditioning are very hot, and people who do say they love the heat.
People in Australia drive their cars everywhere. Pedestrianism is tantamount those London dawn scenes in 28 Days Later. You're in your own world on the pavement. When it’s hot, drivers look at walkers with even more concerted confusion.
British people get their asses in the sun. Yay! Skin cancer!
Hollering "This is the wrong country for that" at Australian dog owners seems perfectly reasonable.
Hollering "stop asking me how I'm coping with the heat" at Australians seems perfectly reasonable. (This is because it is reasonable - stop asking me how I'm coping with the heat. Ask your fudging dog.)
I said this about Madrid and I’ll say it about Adelaide. Walking through an alley and through an extractor fan is rubbish, and smelly, but you pass through it and avoid that alley in future. Being in a hot wind that is produced by genuine weather is tough. Because the wind is hot. It’s like being stuck in a toaster, but no one is sticking a knife in to get you as even if they lifted you out the toaster it’s emitting such heat it’s inescapable, (and no one likes getting stabbed really.)
I’ve been doing weird things with fans since the heat subsided trying to move cool air into my hot house. Generally I’m pretty lazy, so this effort must be the 40 degreeness.
Silly band names' accidental reference in general conversation gets annoying. Oh lord, I can't be arsed with this hot hot heat. Warning: Dogs die in hot cars Sheila. Wham I can't cool down. Oh lord, to fall by accident into an oasis in this desert of unforgivable warmth. Ah mate? It's all a blur... you get the idea. Yes this is a crowded house – molecularly.
Tea cools you down? Lies.
The Sunday just past – the one that ran over the end of January like a ‘hey, get over it, it is freekin’ twenty eleven and you were scared of the millinium bug. Pah, try adulthood.’ Was forty degrees in Adelaide, South Australia. I was not aware it was over 40 degrees until I had walked over 2kms in it. I was sweaty. And not the sexy Slave 4 U Britney kind - the normal kind - where hair sticks to your face in a comb over and one has to walk like a duck-cum-penguin to prevent a childless future because ones upper thighs have sought each other’s company in a simultaneous battle against sweat and becoming sandpaper. Here are my observations of plus 40 degree days and Australia.
Air Conditioning. People who don’t have air conditioning are very hot, and people who do say they love the heat.
People in Australia drive their cars everywhere. Pedestrianism is tantamount those London dawn scenes in 28 Days Later. You're in your own world on the pavement. When it’s hot, drivers look at walkers with even more concerted confusion.
British people get their asses in the sun. Yay! Skin cancer!
Hollering "This is the wrong country for that" at Australian dog owners seems perfectly reasonable.
Hollering "stop asking me how I'm coping with the heat" at Australians seems perfectly reasonable. (This is because it is reasonable - stop asking me how I'm coping with the heat. Ask your fudging dog.)
I said this about Madrid and I’ll say it about Adelaide. Walking through an alley and through an extractor fan is rubbish, and smelly, but you pass through it and avoid that alley in future. Being in a hot wind that is produced by genuine weather is tough. Because the wind is hot. It’s like being stuck in a toaster, but no one is sticking a knife in to get you as even if they lifted you out the toaster it’s emitting such heat it’s inescapable, (and no one likes getting stabbed really.)
I’ve been doing weird things with fans since the heat subsided trying to move cool air into my hot house. Generally I’m pretty lazy, so this effort must be the 40 degreeness.
Silly band names' accidental reference in general conversation gets annoying. Oh lord, I can't be arsed with this hot hot heat. Warning: Dogs die in hot cars Sheila. Wham I can't cool down. Oh lord, to fall by accident into an oasis in this desert of unforgivable warmth. Ah mate? It's all a blur... you get the idea. Yes this is a crowded house – molecularly.
Tea cools you down? Lies.
Monday, 17 January 2011
Films That Start With The
Being comfortable in your own skin seems to be a wonderfully superfluous link running very skimpily between several films I have seen in the last week. Now you know it’s always my intention for this blog to draw a chuckle –I think I may have hit the ridiculous tea splutter nail firmly on the head with this one.
So here goes, two films that are linked by more than Australian general release dates. Honestly.
On the surface, Angelina and Johnny are beautiful and seeing as going to the pictures is much about looking at things – one would imagine this is a sure fire ‘looking at’ winner. I think if The Tourist was say, a calendar, twelve beautiful images curated so one can cope with them for roughly thirty days whilst bearing a passing resemblance to the months they preside over, it would fulfil some purpose. I have taken the liberty of drawing the two major problems out, in spite of the general prettiness and that.
Firstly, Ange & Johnny don't really want to do each other. Now, this is a problem on several levels. Sexy sex is not always necessary in a romcom – Look at Romeo and his Juliet, we never saw them doing it, but the tantalising lark/nightingale quip was enough to make us feel the sexual tension. The ‘I do not want you to leave my bed’ clause is not a problem for Johnny, as he’s not invited in. They look more like they are playing with the idea of being something other than pretty and can’t be bothered to invest in steely gazes or genuinely fancy le (silk) pants of each other.
Secondly, twists. With a twist, one should have an idea one is coming, or not at all. I almost missed it in this one – all on screen looked so thoroughly ready to go home by that point. I hope someone involved is ravaged by a container full of Twister ice lollies angry at their wasted investment. There now, a film in which Johnny and Ange fight a container full of Twisters may have some mileage.
The King’s Speech is an account of a very personal demon juxtaposed with a huge moment in the world’s history. Albert is comfortable in his own skin, trusting that situation shouldn’t take an unexpected change. I would imagine most people watching would know it does take him down an alternative route – not least from reading the film blurb – or most from having paid an iota of attention in GSCE history. How those on screen come to know themselves is great to watch, the sense of obligation, that one will have a role, and some of it will be through situation, some through personal choice and some will be prophesy making good. You tell a child they’re something they will often be it, or take it to adulthood unthinkingly – in the simplest terms. You are this, you cannot be that, and we know you best. And ol’ Albert (King George VI) had one crazy upbringing. His brother was locked away and died at thirteen for starters.
Some of the beautiful moments are watching how one responds to a situation they never expected to be in. (A bit like Ange and Johnny? Where the heck are we? Can we play with these boats? Yay! A Russian!) Lionel (Geoffrey Rush) never expected to coach the King, Albert never expected to have any friends.
Colin Firth is wonderful, and Helena Bonham Carter steals it. It’s generally a beautiful thing apart from there is maybe a bit too much skin/face time for the big screen. There are moments where it mirrors a Clearasil advert, or worse a facelift clinic, the before to The Tourist’s after. But then we all prefer a chip in our porcelain, it lends personality.
Since I wrote this the Golden Globes happened: I’m the only one constructively criticising then, best joke of the night though Ricky - it was almost topical!
So here goes, two films that are linked by more than Australian general release dates. Honestly.
On the surface, Angelina and Johnny are beautiful and seeing as going to the pictures is much about looking at things – one would imagine this is a sure fire ‘looking at’ winner. I think if The Tourist was say, a calendar, twelve beautiful images curated so one can cope with them for roughly thirty days whilst bearing a passing resemblance to the months they preside over, it would fulfil some purpose. I have taken the liberty of drawing the two major problems out, in spite of the general prettiness and that.
Firstly, Ange & Johnny don't really want to do each other. Now, this is a problem on several levels. Sexy sex is not always necessary in a romcom – Look at Romeo and his Juliet, we never saw them doing it, but the tantalising lark/nightingale quip was enough to make us feel the sexual tension. The ‘I do not want you to leave my bed’ clause is not a problem for Johnny, as he’s not invited in. They look more like they are playing with the idea of being something other than pretty and can’t be bothered to invest in steely gazes or genuinely fancy le (silk) pants of each other.
Secondly, twists. With a twist, one should have an idea one is coming, or not at all. I almost missed it in this one – all on screen looked so thoroughly ready to go home by that point. I hope someone involved is ravaged by a container full of Twister ice lollies angry at their wasted investment. There now, a film in which Johnny and Ange fight a container full of Twisters may have some mileage.
The King’s Speech is an account of a very personal demon juxtaposed with a huge moment in the world’s history. Albert is comfortable in his own skin, trusting that situation shouldn’t take an unexpected change. I would imagine most people watching would know it does take him down an alternative route – not least from reading the film blurb – or most from having paid an iota of attention in GSCE history. How those on screen come to know themselves is great to watch, the sense of obligation, that one will have a role, and some of it will be through situation, some through personal choice and some will be prophesy making good. You tell a child they’re something they will often be it, or take it to adulthood unthinkingly – in the simplest terms. You are this, you cannot be that, and we know you best. And ol’ Albert (King George VI) had one crazy upbringing. His brother was locked away and died at thirteen for starters.
Some of the beautiful moments are watching how one responds to a situation they never expected to be in. (A bit like Ange and Johnny? Where the heck are we? Can we play with these boats? Yay! A Russian!) Lionel (Geoffrey Rush) never expected to coach the King, Albert never expected to have any friends.
Colin Firth is wonderful, and Helena Bonham Carter steals it. It’s generally a beautiful thing apart from there is maybe a bit too much skin/face time for the big screen. There are moments where it mirrors a Clearasil advert, or worse a facelift clinic, the before to The Tourist’s after. But then we all prefer a chip in our porcelain, it lends personality.
Since I wrote this the Golden Globes happened: I’m the only one constructively criticising then, best joke of the night though Ricky - it was almost topical!
Tuesday, 28 December 2010
Films 2010 - Count Five to One Down
FIVE
Another Year
The rocking chair pace of Mike Leigh’s latest character study makes for unforced viewing although this does not necessarily mean it’s one to relax into. It makes the number five spot, not as much because I enjoyed the film, I left feeling thoroughly dejected, but because it is crafted so subtly and the whole thing is just so darn considered. There is an overwhelming feel of involvement which makes certain moments pretty much impossible to watch without squirming or referencing a memory – rather than cringing at the idea of sewing up a TB infected wound with a blunt needle one shudders desperately for those on screen – and the pain is as acute. It has been said, Leigh’s chatting about how crap life is without the Tom to your Jerry, but I found much more it’s about interpreting circumstance, alongside a how to in manipulating relationships, and within that, there are some truly perfect occurrences. The amount of wine consumed, stellar cast, the snide jinx of being middle bloody class and the time on the allotment just means it can’t NOT be a film of 2010. And Mary is just freekin’ wonderful - I think she should know.
Dir. Mike Leigh
Viewed November.
FOUR
Alamar
Second of two films I first saw at EIFF and possibly the most circumstantially great film out of this bunch. It’s very simple, delicate and short at less than 80 minutes, which just gently feeds the soul and readdresses some balance. I mean, how can you go wrong with a father son grandpa fishing trip? It’s all about fish, water, lots of boats and just general loveliness. Or is it just because Pedro González-Rubio is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met? Or is there some stirring ecological message? Or are Natan and Blanquita (boy and bird respectively) just too wonderful to watch? See the film, google Pedro, watch that Al Gore thing and decide where my bias lies.
Dir. Pedro González-Rubio. Alamar Film Trailer
Viewed June.
THREE
Mary and Max
A gem from the southern hemisphere that sits softly between both; Mary & Max is the reason Europa Cinemas are wonderful and Cineworld and Odeon aren't so. I have written previously about this film and I was hitting the sentiment angle. Elliot's play with observational comedy and laugh out loud silliness is not to be swept under the carpet of wistful scrutiny – shoplifting sherry and stamps, meeting the person who attaches the string to teabags, clay pants on the clay washing line in the clay worlds of New York and Melbourne, a disinterested mischievous rooster (also clay). It’s a piece of work in its ability to engage on many levels – something we may have considered only Pixar are insanely adept at – there are shockingly bleak moments and startlingly bright ones. Plus, give me Toni Collette and Philip Seymour Hoffman on a bad day and my heart sings. This is them guided by the omnipotent narration of Barry Humphries, on some very good days.
Dir. Adam Elliot http://www.maryandmax.com/
Viewed November.
TWO
Inception.
No surprises here. In good Sci-Fi improbability should be acceptable as standard, and this film asks for more than just suspended disbelief. It expects you to keep multiplying. I know Inception is an easy choice, but sometimes that’s what a Hollywood film should be on the horizon of a film year – there should be insane beauty and ridiculous expectation on the part of the audience. The production should be slick and sweeping, the set pieces should be breathtakingly perfect and vigorously polished in post production and this is all of that. With the development in film technology films like this deserve their place, why should I have to head back to the likes of Blade Runner for kitsch, smart, terrifying concept Sci-Fi? Cheers Nolan, and I look forward to revisiting and hoping none of it looks any less bleedin’ gorgeous.
Also, not to be childish but any film that offers the possibility of exclaiming "Look it's Europe, but bendy!" is a film I want to see.
Dir. Christopher Nolan
Viewed July.
ONE
Boy
The biggest grossing independent New Zealand film to date Taika Waititi’s Boy is a masterpiece for several reasons. Its clamouring perfection with language and characterisation for one; every moment is so well nuanced and thoughtfully built with the same affection and imagination as kids creating a den. The most gutting and heartbreaking moments are thrown in alongside the sharpest quips and the silliest laughs this side of a dry stone wall. It’s consummately Kiwi but ultimately welcomes all, "dukes of hazaaaaard". There’s something about this film that has captured my imagination and it has been the most astounding constant and comfort this year.
I first heard of the film at a local cinema in Matakana North Island NZ, my chance to see it was realised when I leafed through the 2010 EIFF programme and then in turn sat down to watch it at the Cameo on the same day England danced their way to failure in the World Cup. At the interview for the Discovery Film Festival Katharine Simpson asked me about my favourite film of the year – and I wasn’t sure whether it would look geeky to mention something in their programme.
This year, for me, has been one of discovery in a similar way to Boy – no – I’d never thought a deep sea diving, samurai wielding, rugby international, army officing Dad was coming to rescue me from real life – but 2010 was a year with moments where I had to banish some naiveties and accept some other wonders. My hair, like his, is also a bit of a mess. Maybe it is just the sentimentality of his journey into the real world that catches my breath.
Onwards into 2011 for some more silver screen skirmishes deep set in the knowledge my Michael Jackson dance moves will never quite be as wonderful as Boy's, but knowing I can revisit him killing it over and over again.
Dir. Taika Waititi http://www.boythemovie.co.nz/
Viewed June.
Another Year
The rocking chair pace of Mike Leigh’s latest character study makes for unforced viewing although this does not necessarily mean it’s one to relax into. It makes the number five spot, not as much because I enjoyed the film, I left feeling thoroughly dejected, but because it is crafted so subtly and the whole thing is just so darn considered. There is an overwhelming feel of involvement which makes certain moments pretty much impossible to watch without squirming or referencing a memory – rather than cringing at the idea of sewing up a TB infected wound with a blunt needle one shudders desperately for those on screen – and the pain is as acute. It has been said, Leigh’s chatting about how crap life is without the Tom to your Jerry, but I found much more it’s about interpreting circumstance, alongside a how to in manipulating relationships, and within that, there are some truly perfect occurrences. The amount of wine consumed, stellar cast, the snide jinx of being middle bloody class and the time on the allotment just means it can’t NOT be a film of 2010. And Mary is just freekin’ wonderful - I think she should know.
Dir. Mike Leigh
Viewed November.
FOUR
Alamar
Second of two films I first saw at EIFF and possibly the most circumstantially great film out of this bunch. It’s very simple, delicate and short at less than 80 minutes, which just gently feeds the soul and readdresses some balance. I mean, how can you go wrong with a father son grandpa fishing trip? It’s all about fish, water, lots of boats and just general loveliness. Or is it just because Pedro González-Rubio is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met? Or is there some stirring ecological message? Or are Natan and Blanquita (boy and bird respectively) just too wonderful to watch? See the film, google Pedro, watch that Al Gore thing and decide where my bias lies.
Dir. Pedro González-Rubio. Alamar Film Trailer
Viewed June.
THREE
Mary and Max
A gem from the southern hemisphere that sits softly between both; Mary & Max is the reason Europa Cinemas are wonderful and Cineworld and Odeon aren't so. I have written previously about this film and I was hitting the sentiment angle. Elliot's play with observational comedy and laugh out loud silliness is not to be swept under the carpet of wistful scrutiny – shoplifting sherry and stamps, meeting the person who attaches the string to teabags, clay pants on the clay washing line in the clay worlds of New York and Melbourne, a disinterested mischievous rooster (also clay). It’s a piece of work in its ability to engage on many levels – something we may have considered only Pixar are insanely adept at – there are shockingly bleak moments and startlingly bright ones. Plus, give me Toni Collette and Philip Seymour Hoffman on a bad day and my heart sings. This is them guided by the omnipotent narration of Barry Humphries, on some very good days.
Dir. Adam Elliot http://www.maryandmax.com/
Viewed November.
TWO
Inception.
No surprises here. In good Sci-Fi improbability should be acceptable as standard, and this film asks for more than just suspended disbelief. It expects you to keep multiplying. I know Inception is an easy choice, but sometimes that’s what a Hollywood film should be on the horizon of a film year – there should be insane beauty and ridiculous expectation on the part of the audience. The production should be slick and sweeping, the set pieces should be breathtakingly perfect and vigorously polished in post production and this is all of that. With the development in film technology films like this deserve their place, why should I have to head back to the likes of Blade Runner for kitsch, smart, terrifying concept Sci-Fi? Cheers Nolan, and I look forward to revisiting and hoping none of it looks any less bleedin’ gorgeous.
Also, not to be childish but any film that offers the possibility of exclaiming "Look it's Europe, but bendy!" is a film I want to see.
Dir. Christopher Nolan
Viewed July.
ONE
Boy
The biggest grossing independent New Zealand film to date Taika Waititi’s Boy is a masterpiece for several reasons. Its clamouring perfection with language and characterisation for one; every moment is so well nuanced and thoughtfully built with the same affection and imagination as kids creating a den. The most gutting and heartbreaking moments are thrown in alongside the sharpest quips and the silliest laughs this side of a dry stone wall. It’s consummately Kiwi but ultimately welcomes all, "dukes of hazaaaaard". There’s something about this film that has captured my imagination and it has been the most astounding constant and comfort this year.
I first heard of the film at a local cinema in Matakana North Island NZ, my chance to see it was realised when I leafed through the 2010 EIFF programme and then in turn sat down to watch it at the Cameo on the same day England danced their way to failure in the World Cup. At the interview for the Discovery Film Festival Katharine Simpson asked me about my favourite film of the year – and I wasn’t sure whether it would look geeky to mention something in their programme.
This year, for me, has been one of discovery in a similar way to Boy – no – I’d never thought a deep sea diving, samurai wielding, rugby international, army officing Dad was coming to rescue me from real life – but 2010 was a year with moments where I had to banish some naiveties and accept some other wonders. My hair, like his, is also a bit of a mess. Maybe it is just the sentimentality of his journey into the real world that catches my breath.
Onwards into 2011 for some more silver screen skirmishes deep set in the knowledge my Michael Jackson dance moves will never quite be as wonderful as Boy's, but knowing I can revisit him killing it over and over again.
Dir. Taika Waititi http://www.boythemovie.co.nz/
Viewed June.
Films 2010 - Sorry I Missed You
This is more of an NB than anything else.
Here are the films that did not make my Top Ten but I thoroughly enjoyed for one reason or another:
Scott Pilgrim vs. the World
Secret of Kells
Enter the Void - just as I know I will never see a film quite like it. Ever. Again.
Tamara Drewe - purely for Tamsin Greig.
Sampson & Delilah
That one with Will Ferrell and Marky Mark – pathetic I know – it’s all about the shark/lion extended-metaphor-off in the first 20 minutes, it’s quite a sustaining joke, and the titles are very interesting.
These are some films that probably should be on a list but I missed them:
The Kids Are All Right
I’m Still Here
A Prophet
Illusionist
A Single Man
Winters Bone
Four Lions
Here are some films I’m super excited about in 2011 but am now more concerned about missing and am therefore trying not to think about them:
Somewhere
The King’s Speech
Animal Kingdom
Tintin
Paul
See when I said this was a NB – I was not lying. And you’ll never get those three minutes back.
Here are the films that did not make my Top Ten but I thoroughly enjoyed for one reason or another:
Scott Pilgrim vs. the World
Secret of Kells
Enter the Void - just as I know I will never see a film quite like it. Ever. Again.
Tamara Drewe - purely for Tamsin Greig.
Sampson & Delilah
That one with Will Ferrell and Marky Mark – pathetic I know – it’s all about the shark/lion extended-metaphor-off in the first 20 minutes, it’s quite a sustaining joke, and the titles are very interesting.
These are some films that probably should be on a list but I missed them:
The Kids Are All Right
I’m Still Here
A Prophet
Illusionist
A Single Man
Winters Bone
Four Lions
Here are some films I’m super excited about in 2011 but am now more concerned about missing and am therefore trying not to think about them:
Somewhere
The King’s Speech
Animal Kingdom
Tintin
Paul
See when I said this was a NB – I was not lying. And you’ll never get those three minutes back.
Films 2010 - Count Ten to Six Down
I’m not particularly a fan of a Top Ten – a selected seven, or a random list maybe – but when I got to thinking about my films of 2010, there were ten standouts. The guardian called 2010 a ‘widely underrated year for film,’ concurring, I really hope there will be a something surrounding one of the films in this list that drives you to see it for yourself. It makes me very happy to think you may.
There are many ways to respond to film, critically, viscerally, comparatively and most often emotionally. This list quite honestly is just my first thoughts of what was my film 2010 – there may well be great work missing, but if it hasn’t stuck with me, it’s not here. Welcome, to my interesting world.
TEN
Panique au village.
I look forward to seeing this again when I’m less tired. It’s an absolute ball of random. And some of the most wonderful, ingenious and wistful animation you’d see this side of Creature Comforts (Aardman produced the original mini puppetoon series from birth in 2000). Take the ten most awkward unlikely things you would see together in one film – because they do not, would never, should never belong together – and you have Town Called Panic. That anything that occurs in this feature does so from a cautionary tale of forgetting birthdays, planning barbeques and accidentally ordering 6 million (billion?) bricks just makes it all the more angular in its perfection. Look it up – and make sure you’re well rested and ready to be confused with Cowboy, Indian, and Horse.
Dir. Stéphane Aubier, Vincent Patar http://www.atowncalledpanic.tv/
Viewed October.
NINE
Social Network.
There is always something satisfying about a film that leaves you feeling something tangible other than grief or cheer or cynical about over sentimentalised happy ever everything. Social Network sends you off into the world thinking like a crack whore in the dome at the end of crystal maze; if the dome was filled with crack and none of the trippy time trials had induced a trance. You get the picture. The casting is tight and the scripting is slick. Eisenberg’s Zuckerberg is funny, and it doesn’t matter if that’s true to the real one as the creations of West Wing’s Aaron Sorkin are so fascinating to watch. Armie Hammer’s Winklevoss twins almost become an apelike Jedwood, not getting the point and expecting the world. The real Winklevoss twins, not Jedwood, are a little frustrated by this portrayal to say the least. A smart and well timed piece of work about creation and personal demise – log this off Facebook and call it a tragedy.
Dir. David Fincher http://www.thesocialnetwork-movie.com/
Viewed October.
EIGHT
Kick Ass
It has been noted my interest in having a baby is based purely on playing dress up. A little ballerina one day, batman the next, super hero weekends, the options are endless – just imagine the fun! This film therefore, works for me on two levels. One: Kids playing dress up. Two: Kids being bullied. Sorry little Miriamus’ - both are on the cards. But you’ll look freekin’ cool. And maybe one day we can go into the lucrative crime fighting business.
Dir. Matthew Vaughn
Viewed April.
SEVEN
Toy Story Three
Surely, this film couldn’t be any good? It darned well is. It just is. Congrats Pixar.
Dir Lee Unkrich
Viewed November
SIX
L'arnacoeur (Heartbreaker)
On a good day I fall in love roughly five times. Once with either Robyn or Janelle, the second time with a new musical discovery or moment, the third time could be someone on a train with lovely eyes or someone looking wistful in the queue for coffee. I may fall in love with a place, or an idea, a tree or a pathway (an actual path), a type of cheese, all cheese, a beer freshly tapped from keg land, a glass of pinot noir, a beautiful tomato, a firm rounded merlot. I may fall in love with a moment, a joke or a funny quip. I fall in love with at least one cup of perfectly timed tea, every day. On the day I saw L’arnacoeur, I fell in love with it.
Dir. Pascal Chaumeil http://www.arnacoeur-lefilm.com/
Viewed September.
There are many ways to respond to film, critically, viscerally, comparatively and most often emotionally. This list quite honestly is just my first thoughts of what was my film 2010 – there may well be great work missing, but if it hasn’t stuck with me, it’s not here. Welcome, to my interesting world.
TEN
Panique au village.
I look forward to seeing this again when I’m less tired. It’s an absolute ball of random. And some of the most wonderful, ingenious and wistful animation you’d see this side of Creature Comforts (Aardman produced the original mini puppetoon series from birth in 2000). Take the ten most awkward unlikely things you would see together in one film – because they do not, would never, should never belong together – and you have Town Called Panic. That anything that occurs in this feature does so from a cautionary tale of forgetting birthdays, planning barbeques and accidentally ordering 6 million (billion?) bricks just makes it all the more angular in its perfection. Look it up – and make sure you’re well rested and ready to be confused with Cowboy, Indian, and Horse.
Dir. Stéphane Aubier, Vincent Patar http://www.atowncalledpanic.tv/
Viewed October.
NINE
Social Network.
There is always something satisfying about a film that leaves you feeling something tangible other than grief or cheer or cynical about over sentimentalised happy ever everything. Social Network sends you off into the world thinking like a crack whore in the dome at the end of crystal maze; if the dome was filled with crack and none of the trippy time trials had induced a trance. You get the picture. The casting is tight and the scripting is slick. Eisenberg’s Zuckerberg is funny, and it doesn’t matter if that’s true to the real one as the creations of West Wing’s Aaron Sorkin are so fascinating to watch. Armie Hammer’s Winklevoss twins almost become an apelike Jedwood, not getting the point and expecting the world. The real Winklevoss twins, not Jedwood, are a little frustrated by this portrayal to say the least. A smart and well timed piece of work about creation and personal demise – log this off Facebook and call it a tragedy.
Dir. David Fincher http://www.thesocialnetwork-movie.com/
Viewed October.
EIGHT
Kick Ass
It has been noted my interest in having a baby is based purely on playing dress up. A little ballerina one day, batman the next, super hero weekends, the options are endless – just imagine the fun! This film therefore, works for me on two levels. One: Kids playing dress up. Two: Kids being bullied. Sorry little Miriamus’ - both are on the cards. But you’ll look freekin’ cool. And maybe one day we can go into the lucrative crime fighting business.
Dir. Matthew Vaughn
Viewed April.
SEVEN
Toy Story Three
Surely, this film couldn’t be any good? It darned well is. It just is. Congrats Pixar.
Dir Lee Unkrich
Viewed November
SIX
L'arnacoeur (Heartbreaker)
On a good day I fall in love roughly five times. Once with either Robyn or Janelle, the second time with a new musical discovery or moment, the third time could be someone on a train with lovely eyes or someone looking wistful in the queue for coffee. I may fall in love with a place, or an idea, a tree or a pathway (an actual path), a type of cheese, all cheese, a beer freshly tapped from keg land, a glass of pinot noir, a beautiful tomato, a firm rounded merlot. I may fall in love with a moment, a joke or a funny quip. I fall in love with at least one cup of perfectly timed tea, every day. On the day I saw L’arnacoeur, I fell in love with it.
Dir. Pascal Chaumeil http://www.arnacoeur-lefilm.com/
Viewed September.
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