Daily Archives: Friday, May 22, 2015

  • A History of Violence

    David Cronenberg (2005)

    David Cronenberg is a better director when physical violence predominates as the theme and in the content of his movies.   His psychological case study Spider (2002) was hopeless and the recent A Dangerous Method is a comedy show whereas his crime thrillers – this one and the subsequent Eastern Promises (2007), anyway – are focused and assured.  Whether they amount to more than disturbing stylishness is another matter.  The protagonist of A History of Violence, adapted by Josh Olson from a 1997 graphic novel of the same name by John Wagner and Vince Locke, is Tom Stall, who owns and runs a diner in the small town of Millbrook, Indiana.  Tom works hard; he’s a good husband to his lawyer wife Edie, a good father to their teenage son Jack and young daughter Sarah.  When two criminals – seen committing cold-blooded murder in the film’s opening sequence – attempt, as Tom’s closing up one evening, to rob the diner and do worse to the waitress on duty there, both men end up dead, thanks to Tom’s courageous quick thinking:  he shoots them with their own weapons.  This popular, respected member of the community becomes a local hero and, while the story is news, a television celebrity.  The diner is doing great business when one day two more shady characters make a call there.  The senior one Carl Fogarty insists that Tom’s real name is Joey Cusack – previously a member of the Irish mob in Philadelphia and the man who scarred Fogarty’s face.  Fogarty’s claim seems incredible but it turns out to be true; the rest of A History of Violence describes what happens to Tom’s happy family life in Millbrook and a return visit that he makes to Philadelphia, where his big brother Richie has never stopped being a gangster.  (In the meantime, Jack has saved his father’s life by shooting dead Fogarty as the latter was about to put a bullet through Tom’s head.)  In Philadelphia, Tom/Joey kills his brother and Richie’s henchmen in self-defence.   He returns home to Millbrook, where Sarah, Jack and Edie receive him not with open arms but with varying degrees of tentative acceptance.

    A History of Violence holds your attention but it gets less interesting as it goes on because what it has to say becomes so bluntly obvious.   When Jack surprises himself by holding a catch that wins a high school baseball match, a couple of sore losers from the other team threaten him with violence in the locker room.  Jack uses verbal wit to disarm them (not entirely believably); later on, he shows that he’s a better fighter than the boys who continue to taunt him – one of them ends up in hospital.   In Sam Peckinpah’s Straw Dogs, extreme circumstances move to violence the timid mathematician played by Dustin Hoffman; Cronenberg’s film is much more schematic.  Its grim prologue ends with the murder of a little girl; the director cuts to Tom’s daughter Sarah waking from a nightmare about monsters and being reassured by her parents and brother there’s really no such thing as monsters, although Cronenberg has already demonstrated otherwise.  The appearance of Fogarty and his sidekick in Tom’s diner is one of the best moments in A History of Violence – partly because Ed Harris as Fogarty is such a naturally strong screen presence, partly because the two men register as replacements for the two criminals Tom has already killed.   There’s a suggestion that violence is hydra-headed and the effect is nightmarish.   As soon as they’ve left, Edie calls the local sheriff, who catches up with Fogarty’s car as it drives out of town and warns him that Millbrook is a community of decent people who won’t tolerate outsiders up to no good.

    In the scheme of A History of Violence, however, it’s not enough that Tom and Jack get tough to protect themselves and those close to them:  Tom’s nice guy identity has to be something constructed to conceal a history of violence not just as an individual but as part of organised crime.  The revelation that he really is Joey Cusack seems set to destroy his marriage but when Tom starts having aggressive sex with his wife it turns out not to be quite the brutal rape it threatened to be:  Edie is turned on by the violence of their lovemaking.   The Irish mob is active in Philadelphia but I assume the city has other, more symbolic significance in A History of Violence as an ironic epitome of the inherent violence of American society.  Not only is Philadelphia where the Founding Fathers signed the Declaration of Independence; its literal meaning is ‘brotherly love’ (the same idea was of course used to different ironical effect in Jonathan Demme’s Philadelphia).

    The casting of Viggo Mortensen as Tom/Joey is only partly successful.   Mortensen sounds right enough (to English ears anyway) yet he seems faintly exotic and remote.  This is very effective in the early stages:  he builds up a strong sense of reserve.  He seems like a man with a past outside the benign domestic circumstances in which we first see Tom Stall but he never seems like a man whose past was as Joey Cusack.  Mortensen is convincing as someone capable of fighting back when he’s cornered, much less convincing as a willing participant in gang culture.   As Edie, Maria Bello gives a performance that’s good enough yet lacking in surprises – the same is true of Ashton Holmes as Jack.  Heidi Hayes in the smaller part of Sarah has a strikingly grave quality at times and Peter MacNeill is excellent as the sheriff but the stars of the show are definitely Ed Harris and William Hurt (as Richie Cusack).

    12 April 2012

  • A Hard Day’s Night

    Richard Lester (1964)

    According to Sam Davies’s piece in Sight and Sound (August 2014), which the BFI used part of in its programme note, A Hard Day’s Night was made on the fly as a result of commercial pressure – after the Beatles’ appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, in February 1964, which generated a ‘tidal wave of American popularity’.  Richard Lester’s quicksilver film communicates a sense of nervous urgency – a quality that it’s not hard to read as anxiety that the Beatles could be a nine-day wonder.   This is one of several reasons why A Hard Day’s Night, on its fiftieth anniversary re-release, is so remarkable and enjoyable.  Another reason is that it’s George Martin’s son Giles who has remixed the soundtrack; this creates a bridge between the original film and the version now in cinemas.  There were good contemporary documentaries made about the Beatles, notably the Maysles brothers’ What’s Happening! The Beatles in the USA (which also appeared in 1964).  But parts of A Hard Day’s Night have a quasi-documentary interest too – shots of the Beatles in performance (the camera picking up looks exchanged between them that the live audience in the theatre can’t see), a sequence in which they escape from their hotel room to a bar where they dance and chat with girls.  The piece is also engaging as a time capsule – right from the opening sequence, which includes the group’s harassed manager Norm struggling to open a pyramidal carton of milk (the shape of the carton brings to mind Joosa Jims) that he’s bought from a machine on a railway station.  You’re reminded of the anatomy of trains of the era, during the Beatles’ journey from Liverpool to London, and the climactic recording of a television show takes the viewer on a tour of the bowels of a superannuated theatre.  (Marylebone Station stands in for Lime Street;  the theatre was the Scala on Charlotte Street, demolished in 1969 after being badly damaged in a fire.)  The Beatles’ audiences are amusing too, treading a fine line between spontaneous hysteria and taking care to get right the required gestures and expressions.

    Of course the Beatles themselves and their music are the heart and the principal fascination of A Hard Day’s Night.  The soundtrack includes, as well as the title song, ‘I Should Have Known Better’, ‘I Wanna Be Your Man’, ‘If I Fell’, ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, ‘And I Love Her’, ‘This Boy’, ‘Tell Me Why’, ‘All My Loving’ and ‘She Loves You’.  The last two were released in 1963 but I hadn’t realised that most of the other songs were written by Lennon and McCartney for the film – an astonishing illustration of their creativity and productivity.   All four of the Beatles are easy with the camera, and, playing themselves, are effective actors.  The supporting cast is interesting in various ways.  Those who play straight do best – notably Norman Rossington as the dogged worrywart Norm (he’s most un-Brian-Epstein-like: the man himself appears briefly in a bit part but I missed him) and Anna Quayle, in a great cameo as a woman who’s not sure if she recognises John Lennon.  (The group’s phenomenal celebrity comes and goes, as required by the plot.)  John Junkin, as the roadie, and Kenneth Haigh, as an advertising man, do well enough; so do Richard Vernon (a pompous posh bloke on the train) and the similarly reliable Deryck Guyler (a policeman – not for the first or the last time).  Others seem too anxious to assert their comedy credentials:  Victor Spinetti is unfunny as the prima donna TV show director; Wilfrid Brambell’s performance as Paul’s grandfather (commended by everyone he meets as ‘very clean’, obviously in contrast to the actor’s ‘dirty old man’ Albert Steptoe) is famous but he’s tiresome.  That sentimental, injured look works fine in Steptoe and Son, as a counterpoint to Albert’s sordid shiftiness and a foil to Harry H Corbett, but Brambell relies too much on it here.  He’s funny only – and thanks mostly to Richard Lester – in a (repeated) trap door gag on the Scala stage.  The lively, witty script is by Alun Owen, the black-and-white cinematography by Gilbert Taylor (who died last year at the age of ninety-nine).  The hyperkinetic movement of the (often hand-held) camera was soon a cliché but the visuals seem fresh and inventive here, and Lester creates a real coherence between the look of the film and the spirit of its protagonists.  A Hard Day’s Night gave Lester his breakthrough in cinema but, in spite of the success of The Knack … and the second Beatles film, Help!, which quickly followed, this remains probably his best work.

    15 July 2014

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