Film review

  • Nowhere Boy

    Sam Taylor-Wood (2009)

    The conceptual artist Sam Taylor-Wood’s first cinema feature is a curiously uninteresting film about the adolescence (and, in a few flashbacks, the childhood) of John Lennon.  The story spans around five years (1955-60), taking in the last part of Lennon’s schooldays, at Quarry Bank High School, and his setting up of the Quarrymen, and ending on the eve of The Beatles’ first trip to Hamburg.   We see Lennon’s first meeting with Paul McCartney in July 1957, when the Quarrymen played at a church fete, and something of their early relationship as musicians – a relationship based more on mutual respect than on personal liking for one another.  But Nowhere Boy is principally about Lennon’s relationship with his mother, Julia, and her elder sister, John’s Aunt Mimi, with whom he grew up (and to whom he stayed close throughout his life).  The tensions between Lennon and the two women are always palpable (not to say obvious) but Taylor-Wood delays the explanation of how he came to live with Mimi rather than Julia until late in the film.  The director’s refusal to go much below the surface of the story is rather tantalising in the early stages – at least in the moments when Anne-Marie Duff’s brittle Julia comes across like her son’s first groupie.  But the concentration on externals has become frustrating and a bit tedious by the time the key revelations eventually arrive.  At this point, Matt Greenhalgh’s script (based on a memoir by Lennon’s half-sister, Julia Baird) turns into a far from unique family melodrama.  Just at the moment when the two sisters make peace, Julia is killed in a road accident (in July 1958, by which time Lennon was a student at Liverpool College of Art).

    In virtually the last scene of the film, John tells Mimi about Hamburg and asks her to sign a form ‘where it says parent or guardian’.  When she asks, ‘Which am I?’ he says, ‘Both’ and Mimi wells up behind her determinedly unyielding front.  This exchange is bungled.  Taylor-Wood has Kristin Scott-Thomas as Mimi ask the question in a tone that indicates she needs to know the answer in order to sign the form – which makes no sense, when she hasn’t even looked at it – then react as if she had been asking what she really meant to her nephew.  It would be much stronger if she looked at the form, asked the question in a simply practical way, and was then emotionally floored by his answer.  Otherwise, Scott-Thomas does well in a part for which she’s too sophisticatedly glamorous.  She’s by far the biggest name in the cast but she doesn’t stick out in the way I feared she might:  you can tell that she’s got a good understanding of how to play the role – you can hear it – even if she always seems at a slight remove from it.  Scott-Thomas and Duff work surprisingly well as sisters.   Aaron Johnson is convincingly bolshy but vulnerable as Lennon; he has some presence although it’s not an exciting presence.  Thomas Sangster’s McCartney has a precocious shrewdness.   There’s good work in small roles from David Morrissey (Julia’s latest husband), David Threlfall (Mimi’s husband, who dies very early on in the film) and Andrew Buchan (as Michael Fishwick, the Liverpool University student who becomes Mimi’s lodger and, we assume, her lover).    The cinematography is by Seamus McGarvey.

    27 December 2009

  • Ballast

    Lance Hammer (2008)

    This Sundance prize-winner has taken some time to appear in this country and it’s not hard to see why.  The BFI Studio has fewer than forty seats and was nowhere near full for the screening I went to:  at least three of the small audience left before the 96 minutes were up.  Ballast (which was also on at Curzon cinemas recently) is by no means a bad film – on its own terms it’s well done – but it’s not an illuminating one.  The writer-director-editor Lance Hammer, whose first feature this is, is a white Californian, who has worked as an art director on a number of the Batman films and on the Coens’ The Man Who Wasn’t There.  The people in Ballast are poor blacks living in the Mississippi Delta which, according to Amy Taubin in Film Comment, Hammer had been visiting ‘for ten years, drawn by the beauty and sadness of the place and “the endurance of the people in the face of sorrow”’.  It may have been admiration that attracted Hammer to his subject but his approach is, in effect, condescending.  Guns, drugs and struggling to survive are essential to the texture of the lives in Ballast.   It’s understandable that an outsider to the culture might feel that levity would be disrespectful.  But the film is punitively solemn:  Hammer appears to be so anxious on this count that he thinks allowing the characters to be funny is no different from making fun of them.  By refusing to allow humour to intrude, he limits the humanity of the people to whom he wants to do justice.

    Ballast begins with the discovery of the dead body of a man called Darius, in his bed in the small house he shared with his brother Lawrence (Micheal J Smith, Sr).  Shortly afterwards, Lawrence tries to commit suicide and fails, where his brother succeeded.  The film is about the consequences of Darius’s death for his estranged son, James (Jim Myron Ross), and the boy’s mother, Marlee (Tara Riggs), as well as for Lawrence.  The non-professionals Hammer has cast in these roles can hardly be faulted – the mother and son are particularly good (and show glints of humour, in spite of the direction).  But Hammer fixes them in their social situation in a way that constrains the freedom not just of the characters but of the actors too.  As tends to be the case in this kind of piece, the dialogue is convincing because, for the most part, it’s sparse:  the more of it there is – when characters are occasionally given the opportunity to speak their minds – the more conventional it sounds.    The bleakness of Ballast isn’t diluted by poor plotting, as it was in the kindred Wendy and Lucy.  (As in Kelly Reichardt’s film, a dog – an amiable, husky-mongrel – has an important role in Ballast.)  But the correspondence of the Mississippi weather with the characters’ frame of mind is obviously calculated – it’s grey and rainy most of the time with a brief sunny interlude when Lawrence and Marlee make peace and James starts getting a home education.  That said, the tones and textures of the muddy landscape are expressively photographed by Lol Crawley – and the film opens with a dynamically beautiful image of James running in a field, under a sky filled with an agitation of dark birds.

    15 June 2011

     

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