Into the Abyss

Recently, local theatre Cinema City, along with approximately fifty other Picturehouse cinemas, played host to a screening of acclaimed German auteur Werner Herzog’s most recent documentary Into the Abyss: A Tale of Death, A Tale of Life, followed with a question and answer session screened live via satellite from a cinema in Manchester.

Herzog took Into the Abyss’ title from a Friedrich Nietzsche quotation, which reads ‘Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.’, a phrase which becomes more chillingly appropriate as the film, which presents the story of a trio of murders and their fallout through interviews with the two men convicted for them – one of whom, Michael Perry, was sentenced to death at the age of 19, a sentence carried out just 8 days after he met with Herzog - and the people surrounding the case, progresses. The softly-spoken director plays a more passive role in his recent work, allowing whichever emotion that is evoked by the object or event being filmed to go uninterrupted by narration. When asked about this manipulation of the scene in previous titles and how it affects the representation of what is ‘real’, Herzog repeated a line that he has used in several interviews; “I’m looking for an ecstasy of truth”, indicating that he desires to provide the viewer with a ‘heightened’ sense of truth, a poetry of sorts that is to be found behind the surface layer which is presented by a good deal of documentary filmmakers, especially those who support the cinéma verité movement which Herzog views with disdain.

Into the Abyss is, as its full title indicates, a tale of death – that which is all too easily dealt out by criminals and the system which seeks to punish them – and secondly a tale of life, life that so few appreciate well enough to reflect how easily it may be frittered away.

Marvel’s Avengers Assemble

Joss Whedon’s Marvel’s Avengers Assemble, to give the film known to most simply as The Avengers its cumbersome full title, has behind it a rather long, speculation-steeped trail. Since the brief debut of Samuel L. Jackson as S.H.I.E.L.D director Nick Fury in a scene following the credits of 2008’s Iron Man, internet forums have been alight with salivating fanboys attempting to divine which of their favourite characters would be making an appearance. With each new release focusing on a member of the super-team, this fevered discussion only intensified, up to a point at which some audience members held the appearance of the monocular man of mystery in the film’s closing moments with greater anticipation than that of the titular hero himself.

For many, this intersection of the paths woven through five productions of massively varying quality will not disappoint. Identikit aliens will flood the streets of New York, bulky heroes and a token buxom heroine will deliver their pre-attack quips and Hulk will, indeed, smash. Loki (Tom Hiddleston), the Norse god of lies and mischief who was thought vanquished at the close of the 2011 title, Thor, has formed an alliance with an extraterrestrial race known as the Chitauri and is plotting an invasion of Earth. With the Tesseract - the item of seemingly limitless power which drove Captain America’s narrative - stolen, the planet is in desperate need of the protection that only a team of extraordinary beings can provide and so, the Avengers assemble!

As a production driven by four well-loved characters portrayed by high-grossing actors, Whedon’s script, rather than paying equal tribute to the heroes in a somewhat coherent fashion, appears on screen as something more akin to children vying for the approval of a parent. One liners come thick and fast, with emphasis on the thick. Truly amusing demonstrations of the two displaced heroes, Thor and Captain America/Steve Rogers (a wonderfully hammy Chris Hemsworth and Chris Evans in a saddeningly understated performance, respectively) attempting to adapt to the world as it is today are trampled by the throwaway playground insults of Robert Downey, Jr.’s Tony Stark/Iron Man. In a manner befitting his ego of Charlie Sheen proportions, Stark attempts to quash any character development that may exist outside of himself through his supposed ‘bad boy’ antics, much as he did in his native film series.

A green, muscular, glimmer of hope is provided, however, in the form of Dr. Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo) also known as The Incredible Hulk (voiced by Lou Ferrigno). Ruffalo’s mellow genius provides a haven for the viewer from his squabbling teammates, making the eventual release of ‘the other guy’ all the more spectacular. The Hulk sequences are a delight to behold, with his opening showdown with a fellow Avenger being sure to elicit whoops from every viewer who as a child would endlessly pit fictional figures against one another in their minds. It’s a shame, then, that at the climax of this brief battle, which takes up a small portion of Avengers Assemble’s second largest set-piece, the Hulk (and therefore also his ‘host’) is cast aside until he is next required to pulverise something.

The greatest damage to the world of Avengers Assemble is not wrought by giant green knuckles, however, but by a complete lack of explanation of the Chitauri’s origins or motives. Seemingly created just as cannon fodder between the group and Loki, the moments leading up to the final unleashing of the invading force are completely devoid of suspense, making the heroes’ dispatching of them in droves all the more tiresome. While Avengers Assemble fails in achieving its primary goal as a fantasy action film, its few outstanding characters prevent its one hundred and twenty-three minute running time from becoming wholly unbearable.

Black Pond Q&A

A short note (which has turned out to be almost as long as the article itself):

Living in close proximity to a lovely little arthouse cinema as I do, I am often made aware of various fantastic events, be they late night screenings of cult classics (my most recent visit to Cinema City, as it is called, was for a late night showing of a gloriously old, scratchy, slightly pink print of The Warriors) or sessions involving highly reputed industry professionals, such as the one detailed in the below report. In the next month I will be attending a screening of Stephen Sondheim’s Company followed by a Q&A via satellite link with one of its stars, Neil Patrick Harris, and one of Into the Abyss, followed by a satellite Q&A with its legendary director, Werner Herzog. The problem with the article that you’re about to read (I hope - I fear that this block of preliminary text may have induced a case of the ‘TL;DR’s) is that, in 500 words, I had to describe the film, give a rundown of the key personnel and finally an account of the Q&A itself which, as a humble student and not a fully-fledged member of the press, I was not able to record. Not that I am complaining - I relish a challenge. In a few uncharacteristic moments of bravery I was able to ask Chris Langham a question - the answer to which is partially detailed in the article - and descend to the front of the room at the end to shake the speakers’ hands, something which I look forward to remembering, if you’ll excuse that seemingly contradictory, pseudo-philosophical phrase. One final note - if you think Black Pond sounds interesting, please do not watch the trailer. Like 95% of all trailers, it is misleading and spoils some of the film’s best lines. Anyway, on with the article.

Up against already established household names such as Paddy Considine and Ralph Fiennes in the BAFTA category for ‘Outstanding Debut by a British Writer, Director or Producer’, Will Sharpe and Tom Kingsley, along with their sardonic comedy-drama Black Pond, went largely unnoticed by the ceremony’s viewers. Unfortunately confined to an extremely limited initial release due to the film’s miniscule production budget of £25,000 and the considerable amount of controversy attached to its lead actor, Chris Langham, Black Pond was thankfully granted a single screening at Norwich’s Cinema City followed by a question and answer session with the two young directors and their star. While it was not possible at the time to record the speakers’ responses verbatim, the following article should provide a clear idea of the key points covered in the all too brief session.

Following a bewildering few days in which a middle-class couple’s stagnating lives are enriched by - and subsequently turned upside down by the death of - an eccentric, naïve man named Blake, Black Pond is incredibly lyrical in its form. The piece is peppered throughout with excerpts from the work of John Clare - serendipitously stumbled upon by the directors in a book in Sharpe’s bathroom - and intermittently inflicts upon the audience crude animations which reflect both its modest budget and youthful philosophy. Though for every drop of poetry - be it literary or visual in form - that threatens to submerge the narrative in the murky waters of pretension there is a torrent of self-deprecating humour which firmly grounds it in the realm of emotionally stirring black comedy.

The young directing duo, who met while studying at Cambridge University, filmed in Surrey, using Sharpe’s parents’ house - in which the principle cast lived during production in the name of developing a realistic familial bond as well as cost-effectiveness - to situate a large portion of Black Pond’s action. The titular pond (though not named so ominously in reality) is located a short distance away from a roaring motorway, a fact Sharpe and Kingsley chose to highlight through not eliminating this noise pollution in post-production, emphasising the film’s key theme of needlessly complex human constructions - be they motorways or marriage - encroaching on the simplistic and natural.

Addressing ‘the elephant in the room’, the directors explained that they did not choose Chris Langham to star in their debut feature as a means through which to garner publicity or because they felt that his release from prison may have led to desperation and a lower fee, but rather that they had been fans of his since observing his work on the BBC’s The Thick of It, basing the lead role of Tom Thompson on his performance in the series. Langham added that it was not an urge to accept whatever morsel of work was thrust his way that resulted in his acceptance of the role, rather his own interest in the script and the overwhelming praise it received from his late father, theatre director Michael Langham.

Sharpe and Kingsley are hoping to soon commence filming their second directorial effort; a modern treatment of Voltaire’s Candide.

totalfilm:

50 Most Extreme Movie Performances

Christian Bale as Trevor Reznik in 2004’s The Machinist, one of the most disquieting psychological thrillers released in recent years. Astonishingly, after his 63 pound weight loss (bringing him down to around 121) to play the emaciated insomniac, Bale was required to increase his muscle mass to previously unseen levels in order to take the role that most people recognise him for: Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins. Bale increased his weight to around 230 pounds in a matter of six months then, upon discovering that he had gained far more than the director, Christopher Nolan, required (author’s note - I seem to recall watching some behind-the-scenes footage on the Batman Begins DVD in which Bale related that he appeared too ‘bear-like’), dropped another 40 pounds to become the lean, gargling-with-broken-glass voiced, caped crusader that we know and (mostly) love.

5 Great Tear-jerking Moments.

For my most recent newspaper article, I was tasked with creating a list of ‘The 5 Greatest Tear-jerking Moments.’ I do not really think that I, or any single person for that matter, can provide an accurate list of the 5 moments most likely to bring forth torrents of tears in cinema, so instead have attempted to compile a rundown of 5 fantastic moments that you may not see on most ‘greatest tear-jerking moments’ lists. Then again you may (I have only briefly flicked through a handful of these lists myself, I rarely cry while watching films, a fact which over the past week has caused me many a time to question why I accepted this assignment), but at least this is a bit of a departure from the same old ‘Saying goodbye to ET/Putting down Old Yeller’ that you will often see topping these lists. A final word before getting on with the article: *SPOILERS FOR GRAVE OF THE FIREFLIES, ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST, THE FOUNTAIN, AMERICAN HISTORY X AND LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL BELOW*

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(Source: fuckyeahmovieposters, via drowninginadigitalsea)

A Dangerous Method

Another short review, a slightly different version of which should be appearing in this week’s edition of Concrete (The Debt and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo did as well, I just didn’t see the point in putting the same message about the paper at the top of each post as almost everything posted here in the future will be one of my newspaper articles). I have had a particularly terrible sleep pattern recently and as a result, at the time of writing this review I was quite tired so I apologise if you find fault with it. I will address that at a time when my spirit is no longer one with owl and bat.

Enjoy.

P.S. The line that begins ‘Regrettably, the body in question is that of Keira Knightley’ is not meant to be an insult to her appearance, rather just a way of segueing into talking about what a terrible, terrible actress she is. I’m sure nobody will take it as such, I’m just attempting to cover all bases. I even modified the line for the newspaper edition. Anyway, on with the review.


Despite his own claims to the contrary, David Cronenberg’s work bears the mark of a true auteur. The expression of insecurity and desire through visceral physicality has been the primary motif of his work for many years and, with the release of his latest work, A Dangerous Method, it is clear that not much has changed. While this story of the relationship between Carl Jung , Sigmund Freud and a young, disturbed woman named Sabine Spielrein retains little of the violence for which Cronenberg is known, its interest still lies very much within the body. Regrettably, the body in question is that of Keira Knightley, whose madness is expressed through the truly bizarre combination of jutting her lower jaw forward and flailing in a fashion that makes one wonder whether the young actress was left with severe muscle spasms after a day’s shooting.

Scenes portraying Knightley’s character at the peak of her delirium are mercifully few, allowing the tremendous Vincent Cassel – joining Viggo Mortensen and Michael Fassbender (as Freud and Jung, respectively) to complete the trio of stars who rescue the film from mediocrity – to sashay onto the screen as Otto Gross who, in keeping with A Dangerous Method’s subject of psychoanalysis, appears to be more a manifestation of Jung’s id than a character in his own right. While not Cronenberg’s finest work, A Dangerous Method manages to overcome the limitations of its leading lady to provide what is a moving, if at times slightly shallow (due in part to its brevity), historical fiction.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

In 2009, Niels Arden Oplev released his unflinching adaptation of the best selling The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, reinforcing the foundations laid the previous year by Let the Right One In and allowing modern Swedish cinema to enter the mainstream consciousness. While the latter lost a great deal of its charm in being remade to suit American sensibilities, David Fincher’s treatment drips with the same disturbing combination of grace and rancour as the original.

An achingly stylish opening credits sequence in which two of the film’s great driving forces - sadism and technology – clash and a score full of electronic dread composed by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross (their second collaboration with Fincher, after The Social Network) become all but insignificant upon the introduction of the nymph-like Rooney Mara as the eponymous ‘girl’, Lisbeth Salander. While Mara clearly owes a large part of her performance to her predecessor, Noomi Rapace, it is far from a simple impression. Rapace’s stern, androgynous visage which seemed to constantly be keeping a barrage of emotion at bay was what captivated audiences in 2009. Now Mara, whose softer features do not betray any particular feeling, has made the character of Lisbeth her own through a more reserved, yet no less confident, portrayal. One can only hope that, should the rest of the ‘Millennium Trilogy’ be remade, it does not suffer the same nosedive in quality as its Swedish counterpart.

The Debt

In The Debt, a remake of the 2007 Israeli film of the same name by Assaf Bernstein, John Madden  presents a mission undertaken in 1966 by three Mossad agents to capture and extradite to Israel infamous war criminal Dieter Vogel, also known as ‘The Surgeon of Birkenau’ (Jesper Christensen, Melancholia) and its fallout thirty-one years later. This intelligent, yet not overly complex, film was co-written by Matthew Vaughn, Jane Goldman (the two previously collaborated on Vaughn’s witty superhero adaptations Kick-Ass and X-Men: First Class) and Peter Straughan, who most recently helped to bring Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy - a film one is often reminded of when exploring The Debt’s world of secret, meticulously planned operations -  to the silver screen.

Sam Worthington (Avatar, Clash of the Titans) stars as David Peretz, one of the highly-skilled Mossad agents and, for once, the Australian actor’s expressionless visage  is put to good use; as the emotionally repressed David, tormented by the loss of his family in the Holocaust, Worthington gives an understated yet memorable performance. Dame Helen Mirren (The Queen, The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover) and Jessica Chastain (The Tree of Life, The Help)  predictably turn in fantastic portrayals of Rachel Singer, a well trained but emotionally fragile agent, as her life unravels in both her past and her present, with Tom Wilkinson,  Marton Csokas and Ciarán Hinds skillfully providing  support. Unfortunately, The Debt’s carefully woven narrative begins to unravel in its unnecessarily protracted final twenty minutes. Devoted to tying up loose ends, the closing sequence is plagued by wearisome scenes which act to slightly reduce the impact of the film’s tense dénouement. Aside from this, during its quieter moments, The Debt is a sharp analysis of the codes of morality, truth and honour and the extent to which some must violate them in the name of self-preservation.

Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark

An edited version of this review was published today in The University of East Anglia’s newspaper, ‘Concrete’.

Troy Nixey’s directorial debut, Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, a remake of the 1973 cult chiller of the same name, follows young Sally Hirst (Bailee Madison) as she moves in to a 19th Century mansion undergoing restoration by her father Alex (Guy Pearce) and his new girlfriend Kim (Katie Holmes) only to discover that the once majestic, now decrepit, manor possesses the terrible ancient origin of the Tooth Fairy legend locked away in its bowels. Owing to Nixey’s background in comic book illustration and the input Guillermo Del Toro (Pan’s Labyrinth, Hellboy) would have had as a producer on the film, one would expect Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark to be particularly visually striking. Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth.

Nixey’s debut is perhaps the blandest film of the year, not just on account of its drab environments, uninteresting cinematography and woefully uninspired monster design, but also its mundane script that squanders the considerable talents of Pearce and, to a lesser extent, Holmes, resulting in a distinct lack of that most important of elements in the horror genre; atmosphere. In reshaping the original protagonist from an adult woman into a young girl, Nixey has attempted to reproduce the same sense of grotesque wonder experienced by Ofelia in Del Toro’s twisted fairytale, Pan’s Labyrinth (both Ofelia and Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark’s Sally have ‘lost’ a parent, been hastily relocated and are confronted by strange goings on around their new homes), but to no avail. Due to his lack of artistic vision and perhaps reluctance to break away from genre conventions on his first foray into feature filmmaking, Nixey has delivered an utterly forgettable and entirely unfrightening film.

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