Category: film reviews

Classic TV Review: The Aphrodite Inheritance

When I stumbled upon this 1979 BBC mini series recently it was a blast from the past. Admittedly, over the years I’d think of it every once in a while and try to recall what it was about but all I could remember was a man driving quickly along a sun-baked dusty road. Turns out that’s exactly how the series opens. I wasn’t quite yet a teenager when I sat down and shut up at my parent’s bidding to watch with them this Cyprus-set prime time drama and I have to say, I hadn’t a clue what was going on. Far too grown up and complicated for a boy who probably watched the opening theme tune and then started to play with his Lego. Well, it’s taken over thirty years but I’ve finally watched it. And understood it. And I totally see why my parents insisted on my being quiet while it was on.

Written by Michael J. Bird, who had a thing for dramas set in the Mediterranean and had already given us The Lotus Eaters in ’72 and Who Pays the Ferryman? in ’77, The Aphrodite Inheritance ran for eight episodes and tells a story of greed, betrayal and murder. And Greek mythology.

David Collier (Peter McEnery) arrives in Cyprus following the tragic death of his brother Barry, who was living and working on the island as a construction engineer. It appears he’d been driving too fast on a coastal road and plunged over the edge of a precipice. David liaises with police inspector Dimas (Godfrey James) and assumes that his brother’s affairs will be wrapped up fairly quickly.

However, after the funeral a beautiful woman named Helene (Alexandra Bastedo) confides to David that his brother was murdered. She draws him to a deserted village where she presents him with a suitcase she says was owned by his brother which is filled with £50,000. She says it’s proof that Barry was up to no good. David finds the news hard to believe and when he asks Helene to accompany him to the police to tell them, she refuses saying she cannot get involved. She then disappears leaving David to drive back to town alone. On his way back with the cash, he is forced off the road and knocked unconscious and the case is stolen by a playful chap named Charalambos (Stefan Gryff) who just so happens to be a friend of Helene.

When David informs the inspector of these events and what Helene told him, Dimas is rightly sceptical because there’s no evidence that his brother was murdered. There’s no Helene either, and no case with fifty grand in it. In short, Dimas reckons David Collier is slightly bonkers.

Anyway, as the story unfolds there are plenty of strange goings on for David, plenty of weird coincidences that occur and draw him deeper into a plot that involves the lost tomb of Aphrodite. Along the way we meet another of Helene’s friends, the magnificent bandit Basileos (Brian Blessed). We also meet the seemingly untrustworthy American millionaire Hellman (Paul Maxwell), as well as dishonest partners and killers with big guns.

I don’t really want to say more than that because I think it would give greater enjoyment if the unfolding of the plot and characters therein retain their mystery just as they did when the series was first aired. I suppose that’s one downside to the Internet; because it’s all there to read, you can often spoil the surprise.

I admit that the story is a little slow in a couple of places and there are one or two scenes that invoke a slight cringe-worthy wince, which can promote the tendency to get up and put the kettle on or cast your eyes over a newspaper just to hold sleep at bay, but take my word for it, it’s well worth staying with it. While it may not be outstanding, it is highly enjoyable and quite intriguing.

The actors are all well placed and aside from the main characters, many locals were used as extras to add authenticity. Godrey James plays a great police inspector and Peter McEnery looks like a boyish version of Ian Ogilvy only without the suavity. Oh yes, and Alexandra Bastedo plays the mysterious beauty rather well too.

Give it a look if you can. It’s far more rewarding than a lot of current TV.

Film Review: The Importance of Being Earnest

At a dinner with friends the other evening the conversation meandered onto the diversity of the British accent and its plethora of dialects from various geographical points and social classes. Numerous attempts were made around the table to vocally replicate a variety of the nation’s populace, which for a while had the room in stitches. Overall, it seemed easier for those of us without an inherent talent to reproduce Ricky from Eastenders rather than Elyot from Private Lives. Which got me thinking because I’ve always quite liked “plummy”. It brought to mind the actress Joan Greenwood with her wonderfully precise elocution, which in turn led me to the film for which she is probably best known – The Importance of Being Earnest.

The play was written during the summer of 1894 and premiered the following year on 14 February at St James’s Theatre, London. The Importance of Being Earnest marked the pinnacle of Oscar Wilde’s career and remains undoubtedly his most popular play. However, it would also be his last.  A little over three months later, he would be in prison. But that’s another story.

This 1952 film was adapted and directed by Anthony Asquith, a stalwart of British cinema who gave us many notable movies such as Pygmalion (1938), The Winslow Boy (1948), Carrington V.C. (1955) and The V.I.P.s (1963) during his 40 year career.

Having been a student of drama many moons ago, I have a pretty good knowledge of this wittiest of farces and one thing I love about this film is its faithfulness to Wilde’s play. A couple of acts are broken into shorter scenes with different locations but generally what you hear is what you’d read. Indeed Asquith sets out to give us as near a theatrical experience as he can by opening the film in a theatre and introducing the action from a theatre audience’s perspective, opening curtain and all. With camera movement kept to a minimum, you could be forgiven for thinking it actually was a filmed theatrical performance you were watching which of course has a tendency to bring the acting into sharper focus. However, there’s no worry here. This cast does not disappoint. Michael Redgrave and Michael Denison are ideal (albeit perhaps just a tad too old) as the two young men-about-town who both pretend to be a man named Ernest in order to get the girl of their dreams. Joan Greenwood and Dorothy Tutin are equally up to the challenge of portraying young Victorian girls who men dream about (Greenwood’s elocution is just sublime). Margaret Rutherford (later of Miss Marple fame) is perfect as governess Miss Prism as is Miles Malleson who plays Dr. Chasuble, the rector. The three chaps who play the butlers are worth a mention too because they do great things with their small roles. But the show-stealer is without doubt Edith Evans who pretty much is and always will be Lady Bracknell. Her performance is so indelibly stamped on the character that it has since provided a challenge for anyone else taking on the role. The sets are small but lavishly detailed and wonderfully colourful and the period costumes are exquisite.

Dorothy Tutin received a BAFTA nomination as Most Promising Newcomer for her role and Asquith was nominated for a Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. If you’re familiar with the story and have perhaps seen the 2002 film version with Rupert Everett and Colin Firth playing the two gents, give this one a look too. It’s a simple unfussy production that absolutely highlights the extraordinary wit and sublime writing of Oscar Wilde as well as the extremely high standard of those in the cast. If you’re not familiar with the story at all, then lucky you. Today you’ve discovered a true gem.

Film Review: Strangers on a Train

It may have come about as a result of an exhausting train journey I endured a few days ago or possibly because it’s Wimbledon fortnight – tennis being a daily headline at the moment. Maybe it happened because of both of these things or perhaps neither. However yesterday, Hitchcock’s 1951 thriller popped into my mind, vied for my attention and consequently prompted me to put pen to paper, so to speak.

Actually I’m surprised after looking back at the titles I’ve reviewed for this website over the past sixteen months that I’ve only reviewed one other Hitchcock film – North by Northwest. After all, I am a great admirer of his work. Maybe I’ve restrained myself on account of his films having been so extensively written about already but then, when one thinks of his best known films, Strangers on a Train often gets overlooked. And yet for me, it’s one of his finest efforts.

The plot is a simple one and I shall refrain from giving too much away for those who might not yet have seen it. It begins with a chance encounter between two men on a train. Guy Haines (Farley Granger) is a semi-famous tennis player (ergo the Wimbledon connection) with designs on a political career, a slut of a wife, Miriam (Laura Elliott) whom he’s hoping to divorce and a real dish of a girlfriend, Anne Morton (Ruth Roman) who just happens to be the daughter of a senator (Leo G. Carroll). The other man, Bruno Anthony (Robert Walker) is a smooth-talking weirdo with a worrying line in small talk. The two men chat over lunch in Bruno’s compartment and Bruno, who is aware of Guy’s private life via the gossip columns, explains his idea for the perfect murder. A simple criss-cross theory. Two complete strangers with nothing to connect them, swap the murders they would like to commit thereby absolving themselves of any motive and giving the police no clue as to the guilty parties. Bruno says that he’ll murder Guy’s unfaithful wife, leaving him free to marry Anne if Guy will murder Bruno’s overbearing father. Naturally enough, Guy makes a polite but hasty exit from the train compartment however, unfortunately for him, Bruno thinks a deal has been made.

Sometime later, Bruno follows Miriam and her two boyfriends to an amusement park and after a short boat ride, he strangles the life out of her in the darkness on the Isle of Love. Meanwhile Guy is on a train chatting to a drunk college professor who turns out to be an unreliable witness when, called by the police to corroborate Guy’s alibi claim, says he can’t remember their meeting. Guy is shocked and horrified that Bruno actually went ahead and murdered Miriam and is repeatedly harassed by Bruno and told that he now has no choice but to kill Bruno’s father. What ensues is a sublimely constructed thriller, perfectly paced, with just the right amount of humour (supplied in the main by Patricia Hitchcock who plays Anne’s younger sister Barbara) to make it still scary yet hugely entertaining.

Fade outs to black and swipes between scenes are replaced by a quick editing style and often cross-cutting between Guy and Bruno via their dialogue and movements, thereby seamlessly moving from scene to scene, the tempo never letting up. Strangers on a Train is a masterclass in how to build tension all the way to the finale and in true Hitchcock fashion, the climax takes place within a great visual location – this time aboard an out of control carousel spinning like a centrifuge. Implausible it may be with Guy’s legs flailing behind him like a sequence from The Simpsons but the skill behind the execution is evident in its greatness. With fighting and explosions and splintering wooden horses and screaming children it’s an incredible blend of close-ups, miniatures and background projections.

In my humble opinion, the film is worth watching for the Oscar nominated black and white cinematography alone. The gorgeous use of light and shadow is perhaps some of the finest of any Hitchcock film and it would see cinematographer Robert Burks begin a fourteen year run with the director and shooting every one of his remaining pictures with the exception of Psycho in 1960. The lighting is frequently dark and moody and choice camera angles and optical effects – so typical of Hitchcock’s style – add to the overall atmosphere of the film and keep the visuals interesting without ever going too far. There are several almost surreal shots from intriguing angles but perhaps the most famous shot of all (and one that is still studied in academic circles) is when Bruno strangles Miriam at the amusement park, the moment captured in the reflection of her glasses after they fall to the ground during her brief struggle. It’s simply cinematic perfection. Numerous other little blink-and-you’ll-miss-them gems are peppered throughout the film – Guy wiping lipstick off his face before meeting Anne’s father, Bruno’s shadow in the tunnel of love looming over his intended victim, Bruno again standing alone on the Jefferson Memorial, his dark figure an unwelcome stain on the white purity of the structure’s marble. It’s these subtleties, telling us the audience so much, that reveal the genius of the director.

The casting is spot on from the clean-cut figure of Guy Haines to Marion Lorne who plays Bruno’s befuddled mother (another character that adds a little comedy) but the performance of the movie and – one would argue – of his life, comes from Robert Walker. He’s just superb; charming, erudite, a bit of a dandy, but dark, deeply unbalanced, brooding. It was a role meant for him and I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing as good a job as he did. Sadly he died two months after the film’s release aged just 32 but his performance here will live on and be lauded for as long as people watch films.

Of course, all this visual brilliance starts with the written word and this came from a novel of the same name by Patricia Highsmith. In the end there would be numerous differences between novel and screenplay and Hitchcock had a bit of a hard time getting the script he wanted. Originally, he had hopes for a proven writer to lend the project some clout and was looking at people like John Steinbeck and Dashiell Hammett but they showed little interest. Raymond Chandler wrote a draft but fell foul of Hitchcock when the two couldn’t get along and so after a suggestion from Ben Hecht – who had already written Spellbound and Notorious for Hitchcock but was unavailable – he hired Hecht’s assistant Czenzi Ormonde. She was a fair haired beauty who had no formal screen credit but had recently published a collection of short stories which was well received by critics. At their first meeting, Hitchcock encouraged her to forget all about Highsmith’s book and proceeded to tell her the entire story himself. It clearly worked because the film has a crisp linearity from beginning to end and a leanness to every scene. There’s no wasted dialogue and not a single unnecessary frame.

Bottom line – a true classic.

 

Film Review: Heimat

A friend recently asked me if I’d seen the classic German TV series Heimat. After replying with a somewhat dimwitted – “Huh? What?”, I had to admit to not even having heard of it. But when he added that it’s regarded very highly by film fans and critics alike and often reaches high places in numerous lists of The Greatest….etc etc, I was intrigued enough to seek it out.

Heimat (a German word that means Homeland) is actually a series of 32 films or rather episodes written and directed by Edgar Reitz. They depict life in Germany between the years of 1919 and 2000 as seen through the eyes of the Simon family from the Hunsrück region of the Rhineland and although the overall length of the 32 films is 53 and a half hours, making it one of the longest series of feature-length films in cinema history, for this review, I’m dealing with the first season only, which spans the years 1919 to 1982.

The first season of Heimat was originally broadcast in 1984 and consists of 11 episodes, centring on the character of Maria Simon (Marita Breuer), and her life in the small fictional village of Schabbach. We follow her from being a carefree teenager to a wizened, mentally scarred old matriarch and all the ups and downs that life throws at her along the way. At the beginning, it depicts a simple peasant life within a close-knit community where two and three generations often live under one roof and where everyone knows everyone else’s business. The village is filled with colourful characters, some loveable, some not, and we get to join them on their journey through the years as they deal with everything from domestic and personal issues to wider social and political events.

English subtitles notwithstanding, I found it very easy to immerse myself in the affairs of these people as they deal with love, loss, illness, gossip as well as the national matters that were occurring in Germany at the time. The scope of the filming never really strays far from the village and surrounding towns so the effects that these national upheavals have on the members of the community are depicted in very personal ways. I found it quite extraordinary to see the village itself slowly transform over the years as horses and carts give way to motorcycles and automobiles and as the coming of the telephone and the building of a highway change the local landscape. The costume department did a great job too, no mean feat when you’re talking about seven decades and numerous fashion styles.

The plot is far too comprehensive to go into here but as part kitchen-sink drama and part social/political commentary, it shows in wonderful detail how times changed for the people of this tiny rural community and as positive as progress is, one can’t help but feel a little rueful at the passing of certain things. “Once, we all lived under the same roof. Now we are spread around the world,” says a family member, aptly summing up the changes. Of course, spanning so many years, characters come and go, some die through old age, sickness or war and new characters are born who become fascinating to us a little further down the line. For the most part, the make-up to age the actors is terrific as is the acting. The look of the film is beautiful too with sweeping panoramas of the countryside and nicely lit interiors and the frequent switching between colour and black and white to heighten emotional conveyance adds to the overall ambience of the time.

A filmmaker from his early twenties, the director, Edgar Reitz was born in Morbach, Hunsrück in 1932 and so he knew the region and the people well. This is likely why there’s such a feeling of honesty about Heimat. If this wonderful piece of art is unknown to you as it was me, do yourself a favour and take the time to give it a look. It’s richly rewarding and definitely worth it.

Film Review: Breathless (À Bout de Souffle)

Very few films can lay claim to being called innovative; after all, film-making is fundamentally a craft and a craft is basically an activity that involves making something with one’s hands. There are a number of well-trodden steps to follow in order to attain the end result in much the same way as there is when making a cake. First you do this, then this and then this and so on. In essence, the camera captures the shots and then the screen shows the result but of course, there can be an entire directory of additional technical processes in between, not to mention all that comes before the camera is even taken off the truck.

But each one of these processes is a craft unto itself and the individuals involved are all skilled technicians of their own particular field whether that’s to do with the actor’s wardrobe, the make-up they wear, the design of the sets, the editing, the special effects, the coordination of stunts, the lighting, or the cinematography (the list can go on), but they all have steps to follow; steps that define their job, their reason for being involved.

However, film-making is also an art; a medium for expression and an outlet for creativity. Part of that creativity could be defined as bending the rules, of thinking outside the box, of trying something new. This is innovation.

One film that can definitely be labelled innovative and still sleep soundly at night is Breathless, or if you prefer the French title – À Bout de Souffle. Released in 1960 to both critical and box office success, it quite simply rewrote the rule book, certainly for editing style. Its use of jump-cuts was totally radical for the time and to watch it now, amazes and horrifies in equal measure. Some of the editing is in-your-face noticeable and looks positively amateurish, jarring even – as though the film stock snapped and was poorly spliced back together – and yet it adds a nuance of freshness and intensity to the film that wouldn’t be there if the editing was smooth. Love it or loathe it, it was a stroke of genius. It was also filmed entirely on a hand-held camera (tracking shots were courtesy of a wheelchair or a postal cart with the camera hidden and the lens poking through a hole because no permission was given from French officials) and with virtually no additional lighting – made possible by using a specific type of film stock that needed to be painstakingly modified.

It was director Jean-Luc Godard’s first feature length film and was one of the earliest examples of the French New Wave of cinema or Nouvelle Vague and it would go on to become one of the most influential films of that era. The young Godard was very critical of mainstream cinema, saying it “emphasised craft over innovation” and many of his films challenged the well-established conventions of traditional Hollywood as well as that of French cinema. Together with his group of contemporaries that included Claude Chabrol and François Truffaut (who both wrote the foundations of Breathless), he set about shaking up the establishment and the way it was perceived that films could be made. He has influenced numerous directors like Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, John Woo and Bernardo Bertolucci and is often ranked by critics as one of the greatest directors of all time.

The plot of Breathless revolves around a petty criminal named Michel Poiccard (played sublimely by the then soon-to-be-famous Jean-Paul Belmondo), who fancies himself as a sort of Humphrey Bogart tough guy stereotype. He steals a car in Marseille and then shoots the policeman who has pursued him out into the country. Now a penniless fugitive, he flees to Paris and hides out with an American girlfriend Patricia (Jean Seberg), a student and aspiring journalist who sells newspapers along the Champs Élysées to earn her living. He spends his time attempting to seduce her while trying to call in a loan from a local hood so that he can fund their escape to Italy. The police soon make the link between her and her boyfriend and when questioned by them, Patricia learns that Michel is on the run for murder. She eventually betrays him and yada yada yada. Watch it and you’ll find out what happens. Oh and an added bonus – Paris has never looked cooler!

 

 

 

 

Film Review: Trance

Oh Danny Boy, we know you are a national treasure after the success of the Olympic Opening Ceremony but I’m not sure your new film is going to be winning gold this year.  Okay, so some of Boyle’s past films have involved some suspension of disbelief but excellent storylines and endearing characters can help an audience forgive even the unlikeliest scenarios; unfortunately Trance has a distinct lack of both of these.

Trance, directed by Danny Boyle and starring James McAvoy, is a crime thriller that tells the story of an art heist; Simon (McAvoy) receives a blow to the head which leaves him unable to remember where he hid the stolen painting.  Desperate to find the painting and with a crime boss breathing down his neck, he seeks help from hypnotherapist Elizabeth (played by Rosario Dawson) who claims she can help him find it by taking him into a trance state.

The plot undergoes a number of twists and turns which make it hard to tell you much more about the storyline without giving too much away, but probably the most important thing to note is that your instinct about where the plot is going within the first half hour is probably right on the money.  As a cinema audience we are quite jaded and as soon as something labels itself a thriller you are immediately looking out for potential twists – unfortunately this means that all too often you see them coming a mile off.

It will not necessarily ruin a film when the twists aren’t quite as clever as the writers thought they would be; I was able to really enjoy Shutter Island despite guessing early on what the dramatic twist would be.  In this case the film was so well executed you could almost blame yourself for being just a smug viewer and seeking out clues.  With Trance you get the sense that the writers are the smug ones, thinking they have been ever so clever that even avid film watchers would miss the huge hints that are scattered throughout the film until the (un)surprising conclusion.

Trance is not an awful film, the talented Boyle givens us a visually pleasing journey, taking us through trance state and reality and exploring the notion of how far hypnotherapy can and should go.  However, despite being a fan of McAvoy I wasn’t convinced by his good boy gone bad character and Vincent Cassel does what he can with a fairly vague and unthreatening crime boss.  How many crime bosses do you think would be sympathetic to amnesia and hold your hand through hypnotherapy?

You get the impression that Boyle was trying to take us on an exploration of the mind and leave us questioning what was real and who the real criminal of the film was, but like the scene that involves a full frontal and shaved Rosario Dawson, you wonder if Boyle should have perhaps left a little more to the audiences’ imagination.