Daily Archives: Wednesday, March 30, 2016

  • Lawless

    John Hillcoat (2012)

    Filmnation Entertainment, the studio behind Lawless, is only four years old.  Its website claims that it’s ‘a new kind of film company – global, versatile and full-service; and is a go-to destination for many of the world’s most renowned filmmakers (including Steven Soderbergh, Terrence Malick, Pedro Almodóvar, Jeff Nichols and Sofia Coppola)’.  If Lawless had been made by one of the major league Hollywood players it would be impossible not to see the frequent, showy violence in this otherwise very boring movie as the only thing about it that a big studio might see as a potential money-spinner.  Lawless is adapted by Nick (Bad Seeds) Cave from a 2008 novel by Matt Bondurant called The Wettest Country in the World and perhaps the least surprising thing about Lawless (although the competition is strong) is the loss of the novel’s box-office-poisonous title.  The main characters in the story are Bondurant’s ancestors, three brothers who run a moonshine outfit in Franklin County, Virginia during the Prohibition Era.  Their livelihood is threatened with the arrival of Charlie Rakes, a special agent commissioned by the district attorney to declare war on the local bootleggers.  The Bondurant brothers, played by Shia LaBeouf, Tom Hardy and Jason Clarke, are all so dull that it’s hard to work out whether they’re meant to be likeable opportunists – but it is clear from Guy Pearce’s uncharacteristic performance as Rakes that this representative of the law is the villain of the piece, not so much a killjoy as a dandified psychopath.   Pearce is a good actor but not here:  with his etiolated face, daft central parting and put-on voice and giggle he’s more like a Batman baddie.

    Hillcoat’s previous film The Road was distinguished by Javier Aguirresarobe’s cinematography and Benoît Delhomme does a similarly fine job of lighting Lawless.  The grading of the colours of the Virginia landscape is lovely; the interiors are very fine too although the effect of prettifying the thugs by delicate illumination of parts of their hats or faces is a bit silly.   Lawless is genuinely illuminated by the presence of Jessica Chastain and Mia Wasikowska, even if watching them doesn’t do much beyond demonstrate that their talent and beauty are wasted here.   The uninteresting men in the cast also include Gary Oldman.  Shia LaBeouf plays Jack, the youngest of the Bondurant brothers; the film begins with his voiceover and a scene in which Jack is being instructed to shoot a pig, which he’s scared of doing.  I suspect this opening what-it-takes-to-be-a-man moment is a microcosm of the whole story of Lawless; it certainly gives you a flavour of what’s to follow in terms of violence.   The dying squeals of the pig were louder and more expressive than the grunts of approval which the man two seats to my left emitted in response to bloody highlights during the next hour.  But I think I was reacting to him as much as the film when I walked out at that point.

    11 September 2012

  • L’Atalante

    Jean Vigo (1934)

    Michel Simon is a fine and highly individual actor who gets on my nerves in a way that few others do.  His best-known part is probably the title role in Renoir’s Boudu Saved From Drowning:  Simon plays the tramp who exposes to ridicule the decent but condescending intentions of the bourgeois trying to turn Boudu into something socially respectable.  Actors carry their past roles with them and, because Boudu was my first experience of Simon, whenever I see him on screen I seem to sniff him too.  Reviewers will sometimes praise the complete realisation of a place and atmosphere by saying ‘you can almost smell the …’   I’ll have to be honest about L’Atalante:  it was partly because I could almost smell the fug of the eponymous canal barge’s cramped cabins – especially the one occupied by Père Jules, the richly eccentric bosun played by Simon – that I found the film hard to sit through.   It’s a mark of how strongly I felt that I didn’t even enjoy the colony of cats who live on the barge.  Although this was partly because I doubt that no-animals-were-hurt-in-the-making-of this-film, the cats also became part of the stinky mise en scène.  The shot of them arranged on and around the barge’s gramophone, which featured in the BFI’s trailer for L’Atalante, was by far the best feline moment in the whole thing.  As well as these prim considerations of cleanliness, I couldn’t stand the supposedly irresistible subversive humour of Père Jules.  When he briefly disappears from the scene, he’s replaced by a loveably crazy peddler (Gilles Margaritis), who’s even worse.  This camelot does magic tricks and doubles up as a one-man band.  He flirts with the heroine Juliette (Dita Parlo) and her new husband, the barge captain Jean (Jean Dasté), gets mad – jusr as he got mad when he found Juliette alone with Père Jules in his hovel.   It seems we’re meant to see Jean as a humourless, possessive spoilsport – he needs to be taught a lesson, and is when Juliette leaves him – which is probably why I sympathised with him.   It’s exasperating when you feel remote from the spirit of a film but trapped in it.  Elements like Maurice Jaubert’s evidently fit-for-purpose score made matters worse.

    L’Atalante regularly does well in Sight and Sound’s decennial poll and the BFI blurb for this newly-  restored version quotes the recently deceased Gilbert Adair, who thought it arguably the greatest film ever made.  (Even before I saw it, I couldn’t help thinking about Nick James’s S&S obituary of Adair, which mentioned his pride in never having seen the Godfather films.)  It’s the only full-length feature Jean Vigo made:  he died, aged twenty-nine, just a few weeks after the first screening of L’Atalante.  The three main actors are remarkable in their very different ways.  All in all, it isn’t easy to walk out of something as revered as this and I’m glad I stayed the course (around an hour and a half) – although part of what kept me going was the anticipation of reading someone else’s enthusiasm for the picture once it was over.  (The BFI programme note by David Baldwin didn’t disappoint in this respect.)  The film has a fine opening – the wedding of Juliette and Jean and their progress from the church, away from their guests and towards the barge.   The doubts set in for me as soon as Père Jules and the cabin boy (Louis Lefebvre) get into the comedy of losing in the canal the bouquet they were going to present to the bride and constructing a makeshift replacement out of weeds to hand.   In the closing stages, when the humour starts to recede, I began to like L’Atalante much more, including the famous sequence in which the bereft Jean has jumped overboard and has a vision of the figure of Juliette appear before him as he moves underwater;  and an even better one, which cross-cuts between the lovers, each alone in bed and longing for the other.  My liking for the character of the husband was confirmed by his reaction to the cabin boy’s news that Père Jules will find Juliette and bring her back to the barge:  Jean is the cleanest-looking man in the film anyway but he decides to have a good wash in preparation for his wife’s return.

    26 January 2012

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