Showing posts with label the cineastes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the cineastes. Show all posts

Thursday, 15 October 2009

Magic

The Incredible Suit is part of The Cineastes, a group of bloggers who review a film a month and link blogs in the hope of spreading the word of whatever it is we’re on about. October’s film is Magic, directed by Richard Attenborough in 1978.

Magic stars Anthony Hopkins as Corky, a struggling magician who incorporates a ventriloquist’s dummy, Fats, into his act in order to achieve greater success. Corky’s agent lands him a pilot for a TV series but the studio demands he undergo a medical examination before they sign the contract. It turns out they were quite right to do so; Corky’s as mad as a parachuteful of badgers, his personality split firmly down the middle with Fats taking the confident, aggressive side and leaving Corky the timid, hopeless loser half. It’s only a matter of time before one of them takes things too far…

…and that’s it. This might have once been an edgy thriller with a few shocks and a terrifying dummy, but now the scariest thing about it is Anthony Hopkins’ jumper. It’s a passable 100 minutes but it’s all quite predictable and ordinary and lacking in, well, magic.

Hopkins delivers an admirable performance, something he’s stopped bothering with these days. Yes, I know he’s a national treasure (especially having abandoned Wales to become a naturalised American), and he was good in The Silence Of The Lambs, but since then he’s only ever been Hannibal Lecter in a series of inappropriate situations. The Remains Of The Day: ooh look, Hannibal Lecter’s serving tea and cucumber sandwiches! Nixon: ooh look, Hannibal Lecter’s the President! Hannibal: ooh look, Hannibal Lecter’s playing Hannibal Lecter, how postmodern! Anyway, in Magic he gives a convincing portrayal of a movie schizophrenic, but a sympathetic depiction of mental illness this isn’t. And his accent, like the man himself, can’t decide between Welsh and American.

Speaking of indecision, as I may or may not have been, there’s some debate about whether Fats actually had a soul and was a separate entity to Corky, or if he was just Corky’s hatstand alter ego. The story waits until the last few minutes to decide, and it probably made the right choice because a sentient homunculus would have been a step too far down the ludicrous path for The Incredible Suit. Which, coincidentally, is my mentally troubled other self.

There is one excellent scene, in which Corky fails to prove he can exist without Fats for five minutes - a truly great shot shows Fats taking over with just a simple camera move - but Magic’s only other noteworthy aspect is that it features possibly the least sexy sex scene ever between Hopkins and Ann-Margret, both notoriously shy actors. It looks like they’ve bumped into each other in a corridor and are awkwardly trying to get out of each other’s way. Only naked.

On which queasy note I’ll leave you, with an “average” judgement hanging in the air like an indifferent, dispassionate cauliflower.



To comment on this post, click here

You can read the rest of The Cineastes' reviews of Magic by clicking the links below:

The Third Act

Tuesday, 15 September 2009

Les Petits Bastardes

The Incredible Suit is part of The Cineastes, a group of bloggers who review a film a month and link blogs in the hope of spreading the word of whatever it is we’re on about. September’s film is L’Enfance Nue, directed by Maurice Pialat in 1968.

The lovely folks at LoveFilm failed to send me a copy of L’Enfance Nue in time, so this article is based entirely, and rather fatuously, on the poster and trailer for the film. It might be best to watch the trailer before reading any further, otherwise this post is going to make even less sense than all my others. And that’s saying something.



***WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ARTICLE CONTAINS MASSIVE FACTUAL INACCURACIES***

If you were to base your opinion of L’Enfance Nue entirely on its poster, you may believe it to be about two boys; one who’s incredibly smug because he’s stolen his grandad’s war medals, and another who intends to wipe that silly grin off his face by lobbing a Twix bar at him. Only one Twix bar, mind – the other he’s saving to give to a girl in exchange for a glimpse of her jumper bumpers.

However, having closely studied the trailer, it’s clear that medal theft and justice by confectionery-hurling is but one small aspect of this complex work of art.

A young scallywag – let’s call him Pierre – has got himself involved with a rum crowd of tinkers who force him to drop a cat down a stairwell as part of an initiation ceremony to their gang, Les Petits Bastardes. But all Pierre wants is to act out scenes from his favourite movies. He takes a girl to the countryside to educate her about the finer points of Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd and its throat-slashing fun, but she’s unimpressed. In fact she slaps Pierre before falling over for no apparent reason.








After overhearing an adult conversation about how great Forrest Gump was, Pierre attempts to run across France in an attempt to emulate the legendary simpleton. When he reaches his destination he celebrates by kicking a door down in the style of Jack Nicholson in The Shining, but he’s captured by grown-ups and plonked on the next train back to wherever he came from. Probably Paris.

On the journey he thinks about all the great movies that have featured trains, such as Strangers On A Train, North By Northwest and From Russia With Love. Pierre even attempts to recreate the famous James Bond / Red Grant fight on the Orient Express by paying a bigger boy to whack him across the chops with a pair of dirty underpants.

Back at school, Pierre is given a small child in an orange turtle neck to look after. Tragically the child reminds Pierre of Steve Buscemi’s character from Fargo, and Pierre promptly feeds the boy into a woodchipper (not shown in the trailer). The End.

The moral of the story is a universal one: Never trust LoveFilm to get a DVD to you on time.

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You can read the rest of The Cineastes’ reviews of L'Enfance Nue by clicking their links below:

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

Unlikeable Little Squit

I was recently invited into The Cineastes, a group of bloggers who review a film a month and link their blogs in the hope of spreading the word of whatever it is they're on about at that point.

August's film is Au Revoir Les Enfants, directed by Louis Malle in 1987, and what follows is what happens when you strain French cinema through the fabric of an Incredible Suit.


Au Revoir Les Enfants is set in a Catholic boys' boarding school in Nazi-occupied France in 1944, and is the story of Julien, an unlikeable little squit whose hair is styled into magnificent curtains that wouldn't look out of place in the palace of Versailles, and his friendship with Jean, who looks uncannily like Dexter Fletcher when he was in Press Gang.

Curtains is a defensive little terrier who'll fight anyone who threatens to pinch his jam, though it's clear that his bravado is a masquerade to cover the fact that he's the least mature of all the boys, desperately missing his mum and regularly soaking his sheets with wee wee water. When Little Dexter joins the school, Curtains is initially aggressive but gradually becomes drawn to him, and when it turns out that Little Dexter has a dark secret - he's a Jew hiding from the Gestapo - Curtains becomes oddly fascinated.

While on the surface Au Revoir Les Enfants is a moving story about friendship and childhood, it's also a metaphor for the treacherous path to adulthood. Amongst the excitement of discovering alcohol, cigarettes, girls and porn, Curtains has to face his fears, lose his selfish streak and generally become a man over the course of a few short weeks.

The title itself is a big clue to the theme of the film, and it's only at the very end that we hear the voice of a 50-something-year-old Curtains, grown up physically but never able to forget the day he lost his innocence and much more, waving farewell to childhood as circumstances force him into manhood before he's ready.

Louis Malle tells his largely autobiographical story efficiently and with a good grasp on what it's like to be a snotty brat at a time when global warfare was less traumatising than wetting the bed, and the whole film is shot in the murky greys of a French winter fading in Malle's memory banks for 40-odd years. And though the acting occasionally leaves a little to be desired, the writing and direction give us all we need to transport ourselves to a time of innocence, curiosity and floppy hair.

Au Revoir Les Enfants isn't the kind of film The Incredible Suit would choose to sit down and watch on a day off from the coal face of bloggery, but it's always worth sitting in someone else's comfort zone for a couple of hours just to see if the indentation left by their bottom is a similar shape to yours. In this case I can safely say that I won't be rushing off to buy a Louis Malle box set, but I'll certainly pay more attention to him in the future. In fact on the strength of this film alone he could easily bring the realism of teen angst to the final Harry Potter film. If he wasn't dead, obviously.

To comment on this post, click here

You can read the rest of The Cineastes’ reviews of Au Revoir Les Enfants by clicking their links below:

Allan Gray’s Imagination
The Bronze
Octopus Cinema
Walking In The Cinema
Hope Lies At 24 Frames Per Second
Nouvelle Vague Cinematheque
Ygg'noise
The Third Act