05.27.06
SIFF 2006, days 1 and 2
Wah-Wah
South Africa/UK
Richard E. Grant (WITHNAIL AND I) steps behind the camera for the first time for this semi-autobiographical dramedy about English colonial life in Swaziland. Teenage Ralph’s resentment towards his family brews during two years of boarding school, only to come to a head on his return when he meets his new American stepmother.
My Richard E. Grant fangirlness approaches the level of my Stephen Fry fangirlness, for the same reasons: he’s smart, witty, talented, a great writer, and has an excellent sense of perspective about his place in the world. He also has an utterly unexpected and fascinating background, which is that he grew up in colonial Swaziland. Combine all that, and this movie (which he wrote in addition to directing) was a no-brainer for me. Happily, I really enjoyed it, though I’m sure that’s in part my bias showing. Grant’s writing definitely holds up here, communicating wit, warmth, absurdity, and pathos at the right times, and providing characters who never come off as caricatures. He neatly nails the ludicrous classism and hypocrisy of British colonial bureaucrats. He’s not quite as assured as a director; some scenes wander off uncertainly, or seem to be jammed into the story without any real context, and his attempt to match the blossoming of his (or, rather, Ralph’s) love of performing doesn’t fit as comfortably with the family story as it should.
This movie is stuffed with reliable British performers giving the kind of reliable performances they’re all known for (even Gabriel Byrne, who I normally find near insufferable). Emily Watson is the real standout; you expect to hate her, as Ralph expects to, and yet she undercuts that almost immediately with the warmth and openness of her character (leaving aside the wildly wandering American accent). Julie Walters manages her usual trick of being funny, warm, and heartbreaking all at once but without it feeling stale, and Miranda Richardson once again pulls off the ice-cold bitch who is well-meaning and vulnerable underneath (though I’d really like to see her in some other role for a change–the woman’s damned funny, could she have a comedy again please?). And the kids who play Ralph (at different ages) both manage to seem like real, hurt, confused boys without feeling like they’re acting.
This movie definitely has potential for being cloying and precious to a sensibility less biased by the source. But I found it genuinely touching and enjoyable.
The Proposition
Australia
In this brutal and uncompromising Australian western written by Nick Cave, Irish outlaws Charlie and Mikey Burns are captured by newly appointed lawman Captain Stanley, who then offers Charlie a simple proposition: find and kill his older brother Arthur within ten days or Mikey will be executed.
Okay, so apparently day 1 was “fangirl day.” Yeah, I saw this in part due to the Nick Cave screenplay (and for other fannish types, note that he and Warren Ellis did the music for it). But really, I can’t imagine anything more perfectly suited to Nick Cave’s artistic sensibilities than a dark dubious-morality-drenched Western, and oh does he deliver. This is the kind of film that makes one despair for humanity–and yet it is so satisfyingly told, so perfectly limns the complexities and contradictions of morality, that it’s worth it even with the despair it induces. It should be noted that this is visually and emotionally brutal–the filth isn’t spared, nor is the violence, and it can be very difficult to watch at times. However, it isn’t gratuitous; it’s all in service of setting the context for the times and the actions of the characters. I did feel that the story went further than it needed to; there are certain expectations in a story like this that I always hope the makers will resist. Cave and director John Hillcoat didn’t resist, and that disappointed me a little. But those things weren’t out of character with the story at all; this is a disagreement of preference, not of artistic soundness.
And once again, here we are with a sterling cast giving reliably wonderful performances. Ray Winstone takes the prize; he’s known for playing louts, but there are wonderful shadings to this performance that go well beyond loutishness. Emily Watson shows up again, in a very different sort of performance, and the way her shifts of emotion and ethics play over her face is a treat to watch. The outlaws are not as strong as they should be as characters though they all have worth, and John Hurt chews on the scenery rather embarassingly (if entertainingly). And for yet another fannish note, David Wenham’s here, in a performance utterly different from the one he’s best known for.
This isn’t a movie for everyone. If ever there was a gothic Western, though, this is it, and I don’t mean in the trappings–I mean in the exploration of the contradictions and darkness of human behavior. (For the edification of Seattle folk, it’s opening at the Varsity on June 9.)
The Scarlet Letter
USA, 1926
In a luminous new print of Victor Sjöström’s silent adaptation of the Nathaniel Hawthorne novel, Lilian Gish stars as the tragic seamstress Hester Prynne, punished for playing on the Sabbath and seeking refuge in an ill-advised relationship with the kindly minister Arthur Dimmesdale (played by Swedish heartthrob Lars Hanson).
I love how they attempt to not give away the “hook” in the blurb above, even though every kid who took an English class in an American high school likely knows the story. At any rate, this manages to communicate the story in tune with the chasteness of the times in which it was made, which is occasionally a little annoying to a current sensibility but well done in context; the only thing I felt wasn’t well-handled was the fundamental weakness of character of Dimmesdale. There’s some surprisingly biting humor scattered through it. It is very definitely gorgeous to look at, playing with light and shadow without overdoing it and filling the screen with colonial buildings and Puritan costumes.
Lars Hanson, though very pretty, was a terrible actor even considering the different standards of the times, while this movie is virtually a laboratory for Lillian Gish’s patented expressions of woundedness, despair, and coquettishness; I wouldn’t consider this one of her best as she seems to be painting by numbers in a lot of places. (Her other film with this director, The Wind, makes far better use of her capacity to be beautiful, helplessly despairing, and yet tough.)
The live performance of the score was very good. Silent films should definitely always be viewed with music; live music is even better. I did feel that the score was occasionally a beat or so behind what was happening onscreen, but everything supported and punctuated the action nicely, a great enhancement to the screening. (Before the film started, we were treated to a little exercise with the composer where the audience would supply him with some combination of a film genre, a historical setting, and a director, and he’d come up with an appropriate snippet of music to go with this hypothetical film. The Tod Browning 19th century slapstick one was particularly delightful, turning the Minute Waltz into minor-key carnival music. The man clearly has a talent for this field.)