Tag: film review

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Blu-ray film review

Suntan (Dir. Argyris Papadimitropoulos, 2017)

In keeping with 2015’s Chevalier and The Lobster, Argyris Papadimitropoulos’ Suntan also places masculinity and middle-age under the microscope, it also happens to be Greek. Billed as a “coming of middle-age story”, it focusses upon Kostis (Maki Papadimitriou) who arrives on the island of Antiparos to take over as the new Doctor. As his new found friend Takis (Yannis Tsortekis) – think Chet Pussy (Cheech Marin) in From Dusk Till Dawn – explains only during the summer months does the island come to life and teems with tourists who inhabit the camping site just outside of the small city centre.

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This summer brings with it, Anna (Elli Tringou), Jason (Dini Hart), Alin (Hara Kotsali), Mila (Milou Van Groesen) and Morten (Marcus Collen); an obnoxious bunch of youths who are determined to enjoy their holiday to the nth degree. They soon find themselves in Kostis’ examination room when Anna falls off her bike and upon treating her, the good doctor’s heart begins to flutter.

The sun, sea, and sand serves as a glorious backdrop, making sufficient use of lens flare as Kostis starts to “accidentally” run into the group who all seem intent on encouraging him and using him to amuse, abuse and buy them beer. They are sexually liberated spoilt brats whose nubile tanned taut flesh is often shot juxtaposing the Doc’s pale, hairy middle-aged paunch – the camera shames him and objectifies them, especially Anna.

His overeagerness is sweet yet cringeworthy and his lack of self-awareness overwhelming. We are initially invited, perhaps even encouraged to feel for him, he’s lonely, he missed the boat in some areas of life, he has regrets of youth, it’s easy enough but then, things take a turn.  His unlikely friendship with the woman half his age becomes an obsession, and his entitlement and aggressive behaviour gives way to darkness and a misogyny that is breathtaking.

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Papadimitriou embodies the sad-sack Kostis beautifully and while the ending comes as a bit of a shock, the lead up to the breakdown is heartbreaking and difficult to watch. Call it a cautionary tale or a painful parable yet Suntan is a solidly directed and acted Greek (New Wave) tragedy, however, where The Lobster and Chevalier relied upon biting satire within its drama, this falls short of humour and just plays out as dark, upsetting, and all a bit mean.

EXTRAS

Interview with director Argyris Papadimitropoulos (26 mins) –  Delivered in segments the director discusses the origins of the film, script, casting, and filming. Papadimitropoulos has a long standing history with the island of Antiparos, having began visiting at aged 16, he never wanted to recreate on film but depict it as it truly is. He talks about where the idea for the script came from (actually following his reading of Michel Houellebecq’s Whatever) which made him think of those who have access to pleasure and those who don’t. Thinking on the dichotomies in the film, it makes sense even down to the casting of the non-professional and inexperienced Elli Tringou opposite the “genius” of Makis Papadimitriou. This in depth sit-down with Suntan‘s filmmaker is really interesting and well worth watching after the main feature.

The Making of Suntan (15 mins) – A run-of-the-mill behind the scenes documentary-style featurette with a seriously good soundtrack, very Club La Luna, and in complete contrast to the previous extra.

Deleted Scenes – These include ‘Boogaloo’, ‘Downhill’, ‘Kalargyros’, ‘Milu Pees’ and ‘Camping’.

Theatrical Trailer

1080p Presentation on the Blu-ray|Progressive encode on the DVD|5.1 Surround and Stereo soundtrack options|Optional English subtitles (containing 1 or 2 errors)

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Film Festival film review

Sicilian Ghost Story (Dir. Fabio Grassadonia and Antonio Piazza, 2017)

Fabio Grassadonia and Antonio Piazza’s Sicilian Ghost Story begins dialogue-free as Luna (Julia Jedlikowska) follows the object of her adolescent affection into the woods which surround school. Giuseppe (Gaetano Fernandez) is a gentle soul who adores video games, football and horses – all the things that cement their burgeoning love. On this particular day, Luna’s ‘White Knight’ saves her from a rabid Rottweiler albeit in a crisp white shirt and grey trousers – as opposed to armour – but it’s a nice nod to Marco Mancassola’s short story in We Won’t Be Confused Forever, from which the film is derived.

The young couple’s time together displeases Luna’s strict and oppressive mother (Sabine Timoteo) who is framed as the Wicked Stepmother with her mild sauna compulsion, and made all the more severe by her 19th century-looking clothing. Mother and daughter relations are fractious at best therefore making it easier for Luna to rebel against later on. Her mother’s opinion means little to her, as she continues to skip school and spend her afternoons with Giuseppe. While this film has all the markings of a love story this aspect of the narrative never feels contrived nor does it overwhelm, it merely drives Luna in her quest to find Giuseppe when he suddenly disappears.

At its core, the film sets to retell the true story surrounding the kidnapping of Giuseppe Di Matteo in 1993 (the basis for Mancassola’s short story) yet does so in a completely unique way. It is steeped in mythology and fairy tale imagery – specifically reminiscent of Basile and the Brothers Grimm – as the symbolic manifests in Luna’s connection to Giuseppe, his abduction failing to ignite much concern among the adults around her. Cinematographer Luca Bigazzi’s fluid camera movement and expertise with low-angle shots and a distorted lens conveys the strange atmosphere and enforces the supernatural aspect of the young protagonists’ bond as they learn the cruelty of the world.

It is easy to compare Sicilian Ghost Story to Pan’s Labyrinth not least in the centring of a female protagonist fighting against a patriarchal force (here, the Mafia) and the juxtaposition of a childlike fairy tale fantasy with the harsher, violence realities of life, however, this has much more in common with the likes of Paperhouse (1988) and I’m Not Scared (2003). There are even aspects of the poliziotteschi genre despite the themes of innocence, experience, fantasy and reality explored through Luna’s point-of-view. She refuses to be silent and finds her voice, determined to locate what is lost. It’s a mature and assured central performance by the Polish-born Jedlikowska who carries this visually gorgeous feature more than capably on her shoulders.

There are not many pieces of work that can straddle so many genres but this allegorical coming-of-age-fantasy-romance-crime drama meditates on first love, rebellion, grief and tragedy. It takes elements of all those familiar genre motifs and fuses them so succinctly to create something unique and profoundly affecting; embracing the power of myth and philosophically laying ghosts to rest.

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Film Festival film review

Make Me Up (Dir. Rachel Maclean, 2018)

LFF 2018

For those unfamiliar with Rachel Maclean’s work, the Edinburgh-born multimedia artist created one of the 50-feet portraits of Billy Connolly which adorned the streets of Glasgow for The Big Yin’s 75th birthday. She also submitted a short: Spite Your Face to last year’s London and Venice film festivals. This piece focussed on a Pinocchio-type character – played by Maclean – who chases the lure of wealth within an abusive patriarchal power. It was made as a response to Britain’s decision to leave the EU and Trump’s presidential campaign. Within the mise-en-scéne its colours of choice were (Tory) blue and (Trump) gold.

The artist’s first full-length feature – included in the BFI’s 2018 festival programme – uses bubble gum pinks, violets and blues in every frame, and like its predecessor zones in on the post-Brexit zeitgeist in a similarly confrontational and acerbic manner. Make Me Up begins with the familiar aural tone and visual most Apple users attribute to the Siri application, when a disembodied male voice asks, “Siri, when is the world going to end?” before a woman screams “I don’t know!” and her cries resonate over the black screen.

Siri (Christina Gordon) in this case is a woman, pink of hair, born of a gelatinous lump of flesh. Unsure of how she ended up in such an inexplicable place, she becomes allies with Alexa (Colette Dalal Tchantcho) and is forced to compete against several other women (there’s even a Cortana too) in a hyper-real game show of sorts. All under watchful Orwellian eye(s) which fall from the ceilings and monitor everything and everyone via facial expressions and status updates.

In charge is the Figurehead (Rachel Maclean). An equally magenta-haired woman who schools her audience on the role of women within civilisation and through the history of art. Like her ‘pupils’ she has no voice of her own but is a conduit for the dulcet tones of historian Kenneth Clark, and specifically his 1969 BBC TV series Civilisation. She has other voices in her arsenal, namely those belonging to Andrew Graham Nixon and critics E.H. Gombrich and Robert Hughes, all stored within a device embedded in her arm. Her mannerisms scream Thatcher as her lips sync to the pomposity of the white, male patriarch. The girls before her know to mind their Ps and Qs and if they don’t? Well, naughty girls are punished, pitted against one another before elimination. The winner gets to eat.

Every inch of the film is aesthetically pleasing – although some may find it on the kitsch-side (when is that ever a bad thing?) – from Maclean’s production and costume design (she is also editor and responsible for the compositing and 2D effects) to Grant Mason’s prosthetics and Scott Twynholm’s score; it is all substance and style. Maclean asks us to consider the toxicity of social media, the depiction of women in politics, art iconography and beauty culture. The use of The Woman of Willendorf and the Venus de Milo is particularly powerful to illustrate the evolution of the female image, with nods to the works of Michelangelo, Botticelli, and Munch later on.

Make Me Up is a biting and thought-provoking satire which could not be more timely, not least in its celebration of the Suffragist Movement. It presents the violent and submissive fears, desires, control and pressures surrounding women. It asks questions of the role of women in contemporary feminism and art, as well as realigning the male gaze albeit sardonically amid Freudian visuals (the breast-shaped door handles and phallic dinner meat are particularly delightful). It has aspects of Alice in Wonderland by way of Sucker Punch via Hartbeat.

There is, however, no all-encompassing decorative pink bow of a conclusion – as Siri plots her escape thanks to the support of the sisterhood, you will recognise a few – and some may even find the final shot dispiriting but thankfully women persist. Director/Writer/Artist and all-round multitasker Rachel Maclean has put together something highly intelligent and imaginative. It deconstructs the beauty myth (perfection paint, anyone?) and reconsiders art history, criticism and all with a grin on its face and a knowing wink. More please.

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film review

Papillon (Dir. Michael Noer, 2018)

Much has been made of Henri Charrière’s time in prison not least in his 1969 autobiography Papillon, its sequel Banco – published in ’72 – and the ’73 Franklin J. Schaffner film starring Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman. Even 45 years later, the film was hardly primed for a remake but yet here we are.

Beginning in 1931 Paris, safecracker Henri “Papillon” Charrière (Charlie Hunnam) – so named for the butterfly tattoo on his chest – steals some diamonds for mob boss Jean Castili (Christopher Fairbank). Though, why they all sound like extras from Boardwalk Empire is never explained. Only, Papi’s light fingers also grab a necklace and a few of the precious stones so he and lady love Nennete (Eve Hewson) can eventually do a flit and start a life free from crime. The next morning, he finds himself accused of murder, banged up and set for hard labour in the penal settlement of Bagne de Cayenne (AKA Devil’s Island), French Guiana.

Aboard the transit vessel, an early disembowelling cements Papillon as Louis Degas’ (Rami Malek) protector as he vows to keep the bespectacled con-man alive for the duration of the trip. Degas becomes his bodyguard’s benefactor for any future escape, promising to share the stash of cash he keeps in an intimate place (let’s just say this was long before cavity searches). No one thinks to question the authenticity of the roll of banknotes despite Degas’ counterfeiting crimes, however, an unlikely friendship forms between the two as they reluctantly embrace their jailtime.

Papillon’s first escape attempt doesn’t quite go to plan and it lands him in solitary confinement for two years under the watchful eye of Warden Barrot (Yorick van Wageningen), a large man with a gentle voice who’s genuinely curious about the prisoner that can withstand and survive solitary. Any other time he stands, holding court to his kneeling prisoners, in front of a guillotine wearing a cream linen suit – a bit like a sadistic Man From Del Monte.

Even if you haven’t seen the first film, this is a story which will instantly seem familiar. Michael Noer’s rendition may be bookended by an epilogue and prologue – presumably to incorporate more of the source material – however, that’s where the differences begin and end as the plot in between is practically identical to Schnaffer’s. Director Noer and his production designer Tom Moyer, cinematographer Hagen Bogdanski, and composer David Buckley work incredibly hard to deliver a pacy epic (based on Aaron ‘Prisoners‘ Guzikowski’s script). It often looks (and sounds) amazing, however, it remains unconvincing in its central performances.

Hunnam doesn’t have the hubris and gravitas of McQueen who inhabited the role of Papi effortlessly (although Hunnam’s is certainly the gentler of the two) and Malek – fresh from his outstanding turn as Freddie Mercury – seems to sleepwalk through his version of the bookish Degas, perhaps those shoes were just too large to fill. Neither character looks particularly lived-in, save for their last scenes together despite the (eventual) 14-year sentence, and overall it lacks the dingy grime and dirt of the original which may have been melodramatic in comparison but at least carried some tension with it. Even the fight scene in the prison shower (of course, there’s always one) comes off as risible as it’s choreographed within an inch of its life, clearly to prevent any display of full-frontal male nudity.

Yes, an argument can be made that this Papillon is purposefully hopeless and, at times, more brutal than its predecessor acting as a commentary of today’s prison system and its privatisation but you’ll find more anger and urgency in the likes of Brawl in Cell Block 99 or even Oz, and Orange is the New Black. While it pushes the ‘true story’ angle despite the questionable ‘facts’ (according to prison records, Charrière was never on Devil’s Island), one wonders if there could have been more care taken with casting or if utilising other aspects of the man’s life after prison might have elevated the already excellent story and produced something, well, more.

Papillon is by no means a mitigated disaster, nor is it as compelling as the original source material however embellished and/or fictitious elements of it were. It’s a decent prison-drama for those unfamiliar with the exploits of real-life Charrière, and McQueen’s screen incarnation. For the rest of us, most will argue that the best cinematic version of that story has already been told.

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film review

It (Dir. Andy Muschietti, 2018)

It feels idiotic to assume yet I expect most of the world is well-versed in the Stephen King novel and if not the book then the TV serial which surfaced in 1990. It’s back and, just like before children are disappearing and the adults are oblivious. Amidst a downpour in 1988, a little figure clad in a yellow slicker and green galoshes runs alongside the paper boat that his big brother and ‘bestest pal’ made for him. SS Georgie battles the raging seas i.e. gushing rainwater on the streets of Derry, Maine, until it slips from tiny grasp into the storm drain.

Twelve months later and still reeling from the loss of his little brother George (Jackson Robert Scott), Bill Denbrough (Jaeden Lieberher) and his group of friends: Richie Tozier (Finn Wolfhard), Eddie Kaspbrak (Jack Dylan Grazer), Ben Hanscomb (Jeremy Ray Taylor), Beverly Marsh (Sophia Lillis), Mike Hanlon (Chosen Jacobs) and Stanley Uris (Wyatt Oleff) known affectionately, as The Losers Club join forces to defeat school bullies and the evil thing that is devouring the town’s children.

Adapting any major work must be hard, not least when the original text is a magnum opus. Liberties were certainly taken in 1990 condensing nearly 1400 pages into a three-hour TV series but then I was a child, had yet to read a King novel, and was utterly horrified at the prospect of Pennywise the Dancing Clown and his shifting shape(s) of fear. This time round, and now well-read, it feels slightly more faithful in some ways and yet there are those damn liberties again. Despite early production problems, and the acrimonious departure which took with him, his Will Poulter-shaped Pennywise and director’s chair, Cary Fukunaga retains a writer credit alongside his writing partner Chase Palmer but it’s Gary Dauberman who takes the lead while Andrés (Andy) Muschietti (Mama) steers the ship.

The novel’s structure has changed and 50s Derry is transposed to the 80s – just as Regan handed over the keys of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to Bush – but that just gives the 15-rated film a Stand By Me meets The Goonies (and John Wayne Gacy) retro quality that actually really works. Splitting the film into two chapters and avoiding those flashbacks and forwards, means these kids are able to hook us entirely, we’re completely invested in their plight, their friendships and fears, and that emotional connection is made. This is their time and each of the main cast is a delight.

Richie’s still a motormouth and has the best lines, Bev – she of Winter fire hair – is great; kind and tough, hypochondriac Eddie is more verbose than I remember, Bill’s still a little bland, and Ben’s a sweetheart (with excellent taste in boybands). Stanley’s character is fleshed out a little more while, disappointingly, Mike’s is somewhat diluted. His interest in Derry history is sidelined and given to Ben for reasons unknown, and not, one hopes, just a way for the filmmakers’ to avoid the racial elements of the story. He is clearly painted as the outsider. Fingers crossed that come Chapter Two some of these issues will be addressed, and he receives the narrative pull that was expected. My point is, gripes aside, it’s like revisiting old friends.

Had I watched this version at 11 years old, I’d have been traumatised, It comes back every 27 years (in actuality, 25 for me) and now I’m the adult no longer afraid (well, ish). To be fair, Bill Skarsgård in the clown get-up is the stuff of nightmares. He’s less abrasive and wisecracking than Tim Curry, and there is an underlying innocence to his Pennywise which adds to the vile and creepy. His body movements are manic and frenetic, even a little awkward, like a child who has experienced a growth spurt overnight and boy, is he hungry (the saliva drenched lips and string of drool, a dead giveaway). He is terrifying and yet, for me, the scares throughout the film are somewhat lacking despite the gripping sense of unease felt from the start with poor Georgie. 

Visually, the film is stunning thanks largely to Chung Chung-hoon’s cinematography, Janie Bryant’s costumes, and the VFX and make-up provided, in part, by Stan Winston alums Tom Woodruff Jr and Alec Gillis. The sets are elaborate and striking and for horror fans it has a real kid-in-a-sweet-shop feel, especially the house on Neibolt Street. The set-pieces are thrilling and rich in detail, and littered with plenty of horror-themed easter eggs, the jump scares are fairly frequent and perhaps a little obvious but there was one that the two guys sat next to me didn’t see coming.

All-in-all, this is a thoroughly enjoyable adaptation, horrific, heartfelt, and not in the least bit hokey; a perfect trip down memory lane via childhood street and nostalgia way. By the time the credits roll, you’ll float too.