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Film: Fantastic Factory Presents…
UK Release date: 18th April 2011
Distributor: Arrow
Certificate: 18
Director: Brian Yuzna, Jack Sholder & Paco Plaza
Genre: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Fantasy/Horror/Sci-Fi
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Spain/USA
Language: English/Spanish
Review by: James Noble
Arrow gathers together four films from the Barcelona-based Fantastic Factory label. Headed up by producer Julio Fernandez and producer-director Brian Yuzna, Fantastic Factory specialised in low-budget horror films with an international cast, and shot in the English language. Such a combination seems ripe for either enjoyably kitschy guilty pleasures, or outright disasters.
In Jack Sholder’s Arachnid (2001), a ragtag crew of explorers, pilots and scientists venture to a dangerous jungle in Guam, on the hunt for the mysterious creature whose vicious bites have been killing people in the area. It turns out to be the work of an extraterrestrial spider-like creature, leaving the crew in a desperate fight for survival.
Paco Plaza’s Romasanta (2004) takes place in 19th century Spain, in a small village being terrorised by an unlikely serial killer - the suave, intense Manuel Romasanta (Julian Sands), who claims to be afflicted with a lycanthropic curse.
Two films by Brian Yuzna round out the collection. In 2001’s Faust: Love Of The Damned (based on the graphic novels by Tim Vigil and David Quinn), mild-mannered artist John Jaspers (Mark Frost) sells his soul to the Lucifer-like ‘M’ in exchange for the power and ability to avenge the murder of his lover. However, after doing so, ‘M’ binds him to his unholy contract, and John is transformed into a horned demon with a thirst for violence and carnage.
Finally, Beyond Re-animator (2003) - a belated second sequel to the well-regarded 1985 adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s short story - Star Trek veteran Jeffrey Combs returns to his role of Dr. Herbert West, who is now in prison after one of his zombie-like creations killed an innocent girl. Contacted thirteen years later by the brother of the victim, who is now a doctor himself, West decides to take his re-animation experiments to their very limit...
As with any box set, the quality levels vary wildly, and Arrow’s Fantastic Factory anthology is no exception, ranging from the solid to the weak. To kick off with the lower end of the spectrum, we have Arachnid, which opens with an unconvincing CGI shot of what looks like an inverted maelstrom. The clear lack of budget setting the tone for what follows, as director Jack Sholder resorts to tried-and-tested ways of getting around his financial constraints - essentially, keeping the expensive and ambitious visuals off-screen, and hoping the work of his actors sells the horror.
Sholder has limited success here - the fleeting glimpses of the alien spider, and the sense of it moving through the undergrowth occasionally arouses tension and suspense, but more often than not just frustrates. It does not help that much of the film takes place in a gorgeous jungle at daytime (presumably to save money on expensive lighting equipment), which dilutes any sense of eeriness or creepiness that Sholder is able to conjure.
Low budget does not necessarily a bad film make, but Mark Sevi’s script lacks the flair and inspiration to overcome the limitations of the production. Main character Mercer (Alex Reid), a plucky female pilot haunted by the mysterious disappearance of her brother, is introduced with very little backs-tory and while, it is revealed in pieces throughout the movie, the fact that the team of explorers is assembled in quick order (the expedition is underway within 15 minutes), without so much as a hint of any motivation among the group beyond cliché (missing brother, scientific curiosity, etc.), the audience is kept at a distance when they should be engaged.
The cast features several almost-familiar faces (male lead Chris Potter featured on the American version of Queer As Folk, and leading lady Alex Reid can now be seen on Channel 4’s Misfits), who play the film absolutely straight when, arguably, the script calls for tongues in cheeks and eyes ready to roll. Had the players shown more signs of having fun with the material, an awareness of the hokey nature of proceedings, the audience might have more fun than they ultimately do.
Faring better is Paco Plaza’s Romasanta, which has similarly obvious budgetary constraints - the English dialogue is broadly ADR’d (to get around a mostly local cast), and sharp, occasionally disorienting editing obscures a monster the production is unable to fully realise - but nevertheless manages to create a nice level of gothic atmosphere and eerie tension. As the murderous Manuel, Julian Sands brings intensity and a certain impassive charisma to proceedings, and has a decent, understated chemistry with leading lady Elsa Pataky (who also features in Beyond Re-animator), even if the pseudo love-triangle in which they are involved never really ignites, and is hindered by the script’s corner cutting (Pataky’s delaying of enquiring after the missing sister and niece that Manuel has murdered is an example of the plot holes the filmmakers are prepared to live with in order to maintain the erotic frisson).
Plaza clearly has a lot of fun with the material, and conjures some striking, memorable cinematic images throughout - the highlight being a runaway burning carriage hurtling through a forest at night-time. And while the non-linear script, at times, runs away with itself, there is enough genuine invention and creepiness here to make it recommended fare for fans of the genre.
Now we come to co-founder Brian Yuzna’s brace of films, to fill out the four-disc collection. Kicking off with an energetic credit sequence accompanied by a heavy metal soundtrack, Yuzna’s Faust: Love Of The Damned sets a tone that shows a clear debt to Alex Proyas’s The Crow, borne out in its tale of a resurrected killing machine driven by a haunted soul and a broken heart. And, for more than thirty minutes, Yuzna sets up what appears to be an intriguing psychological thriller, as Jeffrey Combs’ dogged police detective investigates a massacre committed by Mark Frost’s deranged artist. While the set-up is familiar, the dialogue and characterisation blunt and direct, and the plot bears one rather significant hole (Frost’s character’s habit of veering from catatonic to lucid at the script’s convenience would, in reality, surely torpedo any claim of criminal insanity), Yuzna’s slick editing and interesting choice of framing (showing an admirable feel for, and reverence of, the graphic novel format that is Faust’s origin), wrapped up in a gothic-mystical tone, hold the film together through its first act. Indeed, unlike the previous two films in the collection, Faust feels like solid, undemanding and reliable B-movie fare…
Unfortunately, the budget simply isn’t up to realising the ambition of the second and third act. Upon his resurrection (after being buried alive by the treacherous ‘M’), John Jasper is a sadly all-too-obviously costumed demonic avenger and, while its core audience will be along for the ride thanks to a solid opening half-hour, the artifice of the costume is perhaps a touch too alienating for non-fans, and Frost’s wild-eyed, manic performance - while containing a certain campy fun - prohibits audience identification with the protagonist. It does not help that the stylised characterisation and dialogue tend to verge on the ridiculous, as the filmmakers navigate their cast through a plot that always seems on the verge of falling into one of its progressively more cavernous holes.
That’s not to say the film is without its pleasures. Yuzna certainly has a flair for the grotesque, which should please the core audience, even if the action scenes are somewhat lacking in the excitement department. That said, the scene where ‘M’ reduces his trophy girlfriend (the game and underused Monica van Campen) to a giant pair of boobs and buttocks is visually striking for the wrong reasons, coming off like something out of a Doctor Who writer’s nightmare. Faust is mostly campy fun, but is not the sort of movie to convert non-believers.
Finally, we have Beyond Re-animator, which shares the ‘boxset-highlight’ honours with Romasanta. Beginning with a zombie attack which - while awkwardly shot, and relying on slightly-cheap visual effects - is appealingly sick, the second of Brian Yuzna’s directorial efforts to grace this collection is the superior of the two. Less reliant on manic energy, and anchored by a quietly compelling performance by the reliable Jeffrey Combs, this further updating of H.P. Lovecraft’s mad scientist story refreshes the standard zombie formula by giving the reanimated creatures consciousness and consciences, which brings a certain element of surprise and unpredictability to what ensues.
Setting the action in a prison further creates a sense of claustrophobic tension, and having the cast of characters - while perhaps not as fully developed as they could be - at cross-purposes creates the vulnerability necessary to hook an audience into the outcome of a horror story. Disappointingly, the twisted nature of the relationship between Combs’s West and Jason Barry’s Howard Phillips, the brother of the girl killed by one of West’s ‘creations’ in the opening, is never explored to its full potential, and the film offers the immensely likeable Elsa Pataky little to do with her role as a journalist reporting on the prison, caught up in the ensuing horror. However, all three actors work very hard and (unlike the cast of Arachnid) their straight-faced playing is essential to ensuring the audience is convinced by the premise and narrative.
Hardly essential, but genre fans will likely find much to enjoy with this box set. Though the films themselves aren’t exactly significant, the collection is notable for providing a contrast to the high-quality, sophisticated standard of horror movies produced by Spain in the last several years. As an example of where the genre was at not long before, the films of Fantastic Factory hold a certain academic appeal that is perhaps more consistent than anything on offer in the movies themselves. JN
Film: Enter The Void
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 25th April 2011
Studio: E1
Certificate: 18
Running time: 160 mins
Director: Gaspar Noe
Starring: Nathaniel Brown, Paz de la Huerta, Cyril Roy, Olly Alexander, Masato Tanno
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: France/Italy/Germany
Language: English/Japanese
Review by: Rob Markham
Gaspar Noé is not known for subtlety and he is certainly one of the most fearless filmmakers working today. Considering the scale and scope of the beauty, ugliness, shocking violence, and mesmerising camerawork seen in both his feature and short films so far, it begs the question, where else will this director dare to go?
In his Tokyo apartment, Oscar gets high and hallucinates before receiving a phone call from Victor, who asks him to deliver drugs to a bar called The Void. Along with his friend, Alex, Oscar delivers the drugs only to find he has been set up and the police raid the bar. Oscar is shot and killed in the bathroom.
Oscar’s spirit rises from his body and embarks on a journey that sees him visit his past where he relives tragedy, the present and the circumstances that led to his death, and visits his friends and family as they cope with loss and the aftermath of the shooting.
We follow Oscar’s journey and experience with him love, loss, betrayal, birth and death, until he ends up back at the very beginning…
Noé himself has described Enter The Void as a psychedelic melodrama, which is apt, yet this is a film that really does transcend whatever expectations an audience might have based on that description. Noé has created a dense piece that combines his own style with that of others, most notably Kubrick.
Noé leaves us in no doubt that we are truly an inhabitant in the body of Oscar. We follow the living Oscar through his eyes to such an extent that we are even subjected to his blinking. It is a strange experience at first, but the commitment to this particular style is so bold that we soon find ourselves caught up in Oscar’s mind. His hallucinations, while on drugs, are beautifully realised and as close to hypnotic as you are likely to find on film.
It is through this style that Noé is able to convincingly tell us the story of Oscar’s disembodied spirit. For those familiar with Noé’s films, the camerawork used once Oscar is dead and floating over Tokyo will be instantly recognisable. Whilst in Irreversible, and to some degree in Noé’s short film We F**k Alone, the camera was used to disorient the viewer, here it serves a very different purpose. We become the spirit of Oscar and the camera demonstrates the freedom of the spirit, whilst at the same time being almost painfully restrained to the neon cityscape and bound to his sister, Linda.
It is a bold move, and one that could easily turn an audience off, but the calm pace and leisurely pans and swoops make for a rich viewing experience when juxtaposed with the events being witnessed.
These events are, in true Gaspar Noé style, unflinching and daring. There will be lots of talk surrounding such scenes as an ejaculation seen from inside a vagina and a close up of an aborted foetus, but to focus on the ugliness of such crude images would be to forget their place in the overall picture. As a whole, the film shows us life, and the horrors faced by those living in the aftermath of a loss. Such images as the two siblings promising to never leave each other while sitting in an idyllic field contrast with the ugliness, just as the Linda’s intense grief contrasts with the nonplussed expression of her boyfriend. Focusing on a group of foreigners in Tokyo serves to highlight a sense of alienation, but also adds to our involvement, feeling like outsiders ourselves as we swoop over rooftops and barrel along alleyways.
The star of this particular show is Tokyo itself. It’s not a Tokyo that is recognisable, painted as it is in garish neon. Noé decides not to show us the usual markers of busy high streets, prosperous businesses and mirror-like skyscrapers, opting instead for grimy alleys, cramped apartments and strip joints. When we do see a stereotypical Japanese businessman, he is lying on a stage while strippers pamper him. This is not a Tokyo that has been seen anywhere else in cinema, and our submersion in it is wholly dependent on the mise-en-scène working in partnership with the directing style. To Noé’s credit, it works.
The film is let down slightly by the performances. With the exception of Paz de la Huerta, the acting never really convinces throughout. The film is also too long. While this is a symptom of the first-person style, once the constraints of being alive are removed, the pace could have picked up a times. The lack of identifiable or likeable characters also works to its detriment.
These complaints aside, this is a film so rich in imagery, themes, morals (albeit none too subtle) and ideas, that watching it once is not going to be enough. There are too few filmmakers brave enough to attempt projects as ambitious as this. There may be accusations of Noé’s self-indulgence getting in the way of telling a concise story, but as an auteur, he should be praised for pushing the boundaries and testing both what he is able and what he is allowed to do.
Enter The Void has rightly received mixed reviews from critics all over the world. It is a film that will not appeal to everyone, and will probably be loved and loathed in equal measure, though to deny the ingenuity of the director would be a mistake. It is the kind of film that will most likely be viewed again in a few decades time and held up as a masterpiece of cinematic bravado.
The going may be hard, but Enter The Void should be seen by all those who love cinema, if only for the sheer outrageousness of Noé’s ambition and vision. It is, by turns, rich, daring, beautiful and horrific. It is films such as this that are the reason world cinema is so exciting. You may not like this film, but you won’t forget it. RM
Film: Balibo
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 25th April 2011
Distributor: High Fliers
Certificate: 15
Running time: 107 mins
Director: Robert Connolly
Starring: Oscar Isaac, Anthony LaPaglia, Bea Viegas
Genre: Drama/Mystery/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Australia
Language: English
Review by: Katy Stewart
Anthony LaPaglia worked with politically-conscious director Robert Connolly in the 2001 thriller The Bank. Here, they join forces again, along with rising star Oscar Isaac (Che: Part One) for this hard-hitting portrayal of real events in terrorized East Timor.
Balibo is based on the true story of the Balibo 5, a group Australian journalists who went to East Timor in 1975 to report on the imminent Indonesian invasion and disappeared. With both the Australian government and the wider international community turning a blind eye to events in the tiny Portuguese territory, Jose Ramos-Horta, the Foreign Minister (Isaac) asks veteran Australian journalist Roger East (LaPaglia) to head up the national news agency to bring the crisis in East Timor to wider attention. Reluctantly, he agrees, although his initial motivation is simply to find out what happened to his fellow countrymen.
His early interest in the case quickly turns to obsession and he doggedly traces the steps of the Balibo 5 against the implorations of Jose. His story is intertwined with that of the Balibo 5, scenes alternating between the two. However, as his search progresses, Roger cannot help becoming deeply involved in the national crisis, the impending invasion and the story that the missing journalists were trying to tell…
This is a story which director Robert Connolly felt needed to be told and from the opening scene, the testimony of Juliana (Viegas) about the horror she witnessed as a child in 1975, it is clear that is not necessarily going to be an easy watch. However, Connolly does not let the raw politics of the real events overpower the film. It is a well-crafted thriller, which racks up the tension as it progresses towards the climax. At the same time, he does justice to the East Timorean people and does not hide his own political leanings.
Roger East is brilliantly portrayed by LaPaglia as a flawed hero; he does not have particularly noble or ideological aims, he is easily persuaded to give up under gunfire and he is very reluctant to tell the story of the troubled nation. This makes him incredibly human, someone we can relate to and perhaps ultimately admire. It is Isaac, as impassioned leader Jose Ramos-Horta, who provides the fire; the passion and rage of an idealist trying to protect his people and his country. However, it is East who shows a dogged resilience to his cause, covering miles on foot through jungles, destroyed villages and deserted towns, in his search for the journalists.
The interwoven story of the journalists is a concept which in some ways works brilliantly, but which also jars slightly. The constant switching of stories is sometimes disruptive to the flow and to the tension which Connolly otherwise builds up so well. At the same time, it feels as though more time should be given to the journalists and their journey, which is only lightly sketched - the viewer does not really get to know these key characters. However, these are minor points; this dual plot is almost poetic in its powerful symmetry and contrast between the two geographically identical journeys. The village, where the journalists stayed, answering questions and listening to stories, is littered with corpses and ruins when Roger passes through. The pool where they laughed and splashed around with locals is still and silent. Connolly’s research and attention to detail also pays off in the subplot; the locations and speeches of the journalists’ broadcasts are faithfully based on the little surviving footage, giving a real authenticity and chilling power to these scenes. They are also shot with the slightly washed-out colours of ‘70s footage and the telltale wobbles of handheld cameras, which also creates a slightly ghostly feeling.
As the film draws us towards the end, we feel like we have been on every step of the journey with East. At this point, Connolly creates almost unbearable tension and it is impossible to look away, however much we might want to, from the barrage of pure horror that he releases. If we did, it would make us just as bad as the Western governments and organisations that Connolly so forcefully indicts. He implicitly asks some very difficult questions, provided by the contrasting characters of East and Ramos-Horta. Why should the deaths of five white Australians get more press coverage than 180,000 East Timoreans? Why were all outside observers so reluctant to step in or even comment on the Indonesian invasion of a powerless nation?
Not just a well-crafted thriller, then, nor simply a political statement. This is a complex and haunting film about a country many people will never have even heard of. The lead performances are understated but stunning, and though it is not an easy film to watch, it burns with a kind of fury which palpably conveys the feelings of the director and writers and the fact that they care about the story they are telling. Because of this, it has great integrity and a real power. It is not a film that you can dismiss after watching; it demands action, even if that is just acknowledging what happened in East Timor in 1975. Above all, it offers a new generation the chance not to turn a blind eye.
Balibo is a triumph of Australian cinema. It is unapologetic in its brutality and has a few minor flaws, but it is a powerful and important story exceptionally well-told. KS
Film: On Tour
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 25th April 2011
Distributor: Artificial Eye
Certificate: 15
Running time: 111 mins
Director: Mathieu Amalric
Starring: Miranda Colclasure, Suzanne Ramsey, Dirty Martini, Julie Atlas Muz, Angela de Lorenzo
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France
Language: French/English
Review by: Katy Stewart
Mathieu Amalric, best-known as an actor, has earned both critical acclaim and box office success (The Diving Bell And The Butterfly, The Quantum Of Solace). Adding directing and writing to his talents, On Tour is the quirky result of his collaboration with a troupe of New Burlesque performers.
Joachim (Amalric) is a failed Parisian TV producer who abandons his former life and takes off to America, where he meets a group of Burlesque dancers. Seeing a new opportunity, he brings them back to France and arranges for them to tour the country, introducing a French audience to their bold ‘New Burlesque’ routine.
The girls are supremely confident, cutting through language and cultural barriers in a flurry of feather boas and titillating performances. They are proud of their show – Mimi le Meaux (Miranda Colclasure) describes it as “Burlesque by women, for women” – and they refuse to let Joachim suggest changes.
He puts up with the girls’ wilful nature, the crummy hotels and the endless time on the road in the hope that a big show in Paris will bring him the success he deserves. However, when he is let down by a friend and unable to get a venue in Paris, his hopes begin to unravel. The girls continue to perform, undaunted, in ever-more provincial and dreary towns, but Joachim is often elsewhere as he tries to sort out his own messy personal life…
If there’s one thing this film lacks, it’s a definite plot. It is a pretty accurate representation of what one imagines life must be like on a low-budget tour, but noteworthy events are extremely sparse. Some critics have praised this realistic approach, but it does leave the viewer wondering when something is going to happen. Of course, the greatest storytellers are able to create powerful significance out of the most subtle moments and it seems that is what Amalric is trying to do here. But whether he is pleading with a hotel receptionist to turn off the awful piped music, confronting people from his past, or engaging in a moment of flirting with a gas-station attendant, we are never led to a greater underlying meaning. The viewer simply gets the sense that this man’s life is depressingly empty and meaningless, but it does not make for riveting viewing.
The film is given some life by the performances and by the fact that the girls are real-life burlesque dancers. They are unafraid to bear their voluptuous figures on stage or swear at Joachim in their gritty New York accents, meaning that they bring a delightful authenticity to the film. They are a breath of fresh air – colourful, energetic and bright against the grey backdrop of industrial France. This works very well for the actual performance sequences, but these are sadly fleeting. For the majority of the film, they are off-stage, kind of inverse caricatures of their on-stage personas. Nevertheless, they do provide optimism and positivity; delighting in the modest attractions of the towns they visit in the way only foreigners can.
Unfortunately, as the film progresses, more and more time is given over to Joachim’s parallel storyline, as he catches up with people he used to know and just as quickly moves on again, resolving nothing and revealing very little. Possibly in an attempt to make him a more sympathetic figure, his young sons come into the picture rather randomly and he drags them around on the tour for a bit before packing them back off to their mother. The effect, however, is to render all these encounters more or less pointless. The film may well be trying to present the futility of life, or some other similar philosophical sentiment, but it does not express it eloquently - and it does not keep the viewer interested. Amalric cuts a pitiful figure as the beleaguered producer, but not one that is easy to empathise with.
One aspect of the film that is admirable is the cinematography, which gives the a documentary-style feel, echoing the low-budget tour premise. The theme of incidental, fleeting moments, which does not work in the plot, is actually successful in the visual creation of the film. For example, we see many of the burlesque performances as if watching from the wings, making it even more teasing and tantalizing. Likewise, Amalric focuses upon personal, individual encounters even in regard to the relationship between the performers and the public, which is a much more effective way of showing the reaction of average working people to a risqué new show in town. In this sense, Amalric’s direction is assured and strong, it is just a shame this does not translate to the content.
This is a film which offers a quirky, dynamic cast and a creative take on the burlesque genre. However, it leaves the unsatisfactory feeling that this is a film which could have been so much more, if greater consideration had been given to the plot, or at least providing some point to the many insignificant moments. There is much to admire in individual scenes, but no strong thread holding them together. It almost feels like so much time was spent illustrating one man’s disappointing life and the unglamorous reality of life on tour that any sense of story was forgotten about.
On Tour promises a lot but does not completely deliver. It is worth watching for individually admirable performances and a pleasing lack of cliché, but don’t expect a gripping plot. KS
Film: Der Tiger von Eschnapur / Das Indische Grabmal
Year of production: 1959
UK Release date: 18th April 2011
Distributor: Eureka!
Certificate: PG
Running time: 201 mins
Director: Fritz Lang
Starring: Debra Paget, Paul Hubschmid, Walter Reyer, Claus Holm, Luciana Paluzzi
Genre: Adventure/Drama/Romance/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: West Germany/France/Italy
Language: German
Review by: Tim Molton
In 1921, Joe May, an Austrian-born film director took the reigns on a project titled Das Indische Grabmal (The Indian Tomb) for which the screenplay was co-written by Fritz Lang and his then wife, Thea Von Harbou. Almost forty years later, Lang himself returned to Germany to direct a more visually aesthetic and modernised remake of this production, dividing the film into two separate adventures, Der Tiger von Eschnapur (The Tiger of Eschnapur) and Das indische Grabmal (The Indian Tomb).
The film begins with the German architect Harald Berger (Paul Hubschmid) travelling through India en route to Eschnapur. On his journey, he meets the beautiful young dancer Seetha (Debra Paget). We soon learn that both Harald and Seetha have been commissioned by the ruler of Eschnapur, Chandra the Maharaja (Walter Reyer), for their differing skills. Harald has been requested in Eschnapur to build a temple for the Maharaja and Seetha to dance in the Maharaja’s presence.
When a tiger attacks the carriage in which Seetha and her servant are travelling, Harald’s heroics earn him the eternal gratitude and friendship of Chandra, and the love of Seetha. It soon becomes evident, however, that the Maharaja too has deep feelings for Seetha, and has invited her to the Palace in order to acquire her admiration and, subsequently, her hand in marriage.
When Chandra’s devious brother Prince Ramigani (Rene Deltgen) becomes aware of his intention to marry Seetha, he sees it as an opportunity to overthrow the Maharaja, and so begins his underhand scheming in an attempt to win over the support of the various disapproving factions within the Palace.
The Maharaja inevitably learns, however, that Harald and Seetha have been having a secret affair behind Chandra’s back. He consequently realises that despite his most humble and sincere efforts, Seetha’s heart belongs to Harald. Chandra’s love for Seetha, and indeed his admiration and respect for Harald, both quickly diminish upon this realisation, until all that remains is a deep and bitter hatred for both.
When Harald and Seetha flee the Palace in order to escape persecution at the hands of Chandra, a fleet of soldiers is sent to seek them out. Their instructions are to return Seetha to Chandra, and to kill Harald.
Harald’s sister Irene Rhode (Sabine Bethmann) and her husband Dr Walter Rhode (Claus Holm), also architects, arrive at the Palace to further assist the Maharaja with his plans, just as Harald and Seetha have escaped. Chandra informs them that the plans have changed and that they will now be building a tomb for Seetha. As Harald and Seetha escape into the desert, their demise is quickly sought by the bitter Maharaja, whilst Irene and Dr. Rhode try to discover their whereabouts, and save them both from execution…
When Fritz Lang took the decision to return to Germany in the late 1950s and direct the film he had co-written many years prior, it was evident that there would need to be some significant changes in order for the movie to be a success. Firstly, Joe May’s 1921 feature was a silent film; not a common characteristic of movies released in the 1950s. Secondly, the film lasted approximately three-and-a-half hours, which was no longer an endurable timeframe for contemporary audiences.
Lang, therefore, created the film as he had envisioned, by dividing the script into two separate features (now known collectively as The Indian Epic) and by using distinctive sound and music to compliment the beautiful, vibrant imagery. These decisions were, in reality, a necessity if the films were ever to be a success, but nevertheless Lang’s skill in executing these decisions should not be understated.
The screenplay itself, co-written by his wife Thea von Harbou, is comparable to many infamous Shakespearian plays, in that it contains all of the ingredients necessary for an enthralling adventure feature, including jealousy, betrayal, tragedy and, of course, love. Lang must be given a great deal of credit here for not only creating a brilliant storyline, but also for refusing to filter out any of the scenes in an attempt to reduce either the expense or the running time of the production.
The pace of the film is very much dictated by the tempo of the music, and whilst this may be an obvious way for viewers to predict the tone and even the outcome of each scene, it generally has the desired effect. Audiences may occasionally let their minds wander and lose interest momentarily when the music is slow and the scene apparently stagnant, but, likewise, they will find it very difficult not to feel a rush of excitement when the pace of music increases or the beat of the drum gets louder.
The imagery and backdrops used by Lang are as beautiful as the focal character herself. Whilst evidently studio sets are used for many of the scenes, the utilisation of palaces and temples in India provides the film with an almost other-worldly and enchanting feeling. Such settings contribute not only to the aesthetics, but also to the plot itself, as the continuing theme that magical things can occur in India becomes ever more convincing throughout.
The characters are excellently cast, and each is played to its full potential.
Hubschmid portrays the love-stricken and heroic architect brilliantly, and in such a way that audiences will take an instant liking to him. He is seen to be strong and brave, yet vulnerable to the charming and seductive Seetha.
Debra Paget, despite her lines being dubbed, is perfectly suited to the role of Seetha, the sensual dancer who falls for Harald. Indeed, the theme of eroticism, which is so ever-present in Lang’s work, is never more evident nor captivating than when Paget dances to the beats of the Indian drums. Although her acting is largely faultless throughout, it is her dancing that will be remembered from this feature, performing two of the most erotic and captivating dances seen on film during this period.
The film won’t be to everybody’s taste, purely because it was released so long ago - the quality of the feature is always going to be reduced, whether because of the special effects, the stunts or for many other reasons. However, Lang has directed a feature which relies not merely on special effects, but rather a fantastically compelling script, seductive arts and fine performances from the cast.
This is a very difficult feature to fault, particularly given that it was written prior to 1920, released in 1959 and still contains all of the ingredients which appeal to a modern day audience. It is not only visually engrossing, but also an intelligently woven script, which contains as much charm, seduction and edge-of-the-seat excitement as the Temple of Doom. Highly recommended. TMO
Film: 14-18: The Noise And The Fury
Year of production: 2008
UK Release date: 4th April 2011
Distributor: Kaleidoscope
Certificate: E
Running time: 100 mins
Director: Jean-François Delassus
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France
Language: French
Review by: Matt Castagna
With its unique first person narrative comes 14-18: The Noise And The Fury, a pastiche of restored and colourised footage which serves to document The Great War (WW1) in refreshing but at times disturbing clarity. Director Jean-Francois Delassus couples archive footage from the war, with clips from one or two other mediums, in order to construct a graphic tale with a raw slant.
The film centres around Protag, a young Frenchman who enlists to fight, fuelled by little more than his own sense of adventure. A common misconception at this time was that life as a soldier was both heroic and glorious, a misconception that feeds his desire further. However, what begins as a naive soldier’s journey into the great unknown soon becomes something much darker as Protag becomes quite literally bogged down in the conflict that would shape Europe for the next century.
In amongst the explanations and general overview of The Great War as a whole, Protag’s plight remains a key feature throughout, with vivid and descriptive dialogue depicting life in the trenches. His experiences of death and destruction remain prominent throughout, as is his struggle to maintain a sense of faith in a war that is remembered less for the lion hearts and more so for the brutality of killing fields and machine-gun warfare.
The English language version features an enticing reading by Paul Bandey, whose frank voiceovers provide a foreboding feel to proceedings…
Engaging its audience via the identification of the reluctant hero Protag, 14-18 invests our interest in his plight whilst giving an overview of the story of the First World War – the players, the pieces, the grand scale game of chess played across what is now Modern Europe. No stone is left unturned in what is, at times. a difficult watch, particularly when the film shifts to the more personal tribulations. The grimy reality of living in trenches, struggling with the biting cold of the weather and the mud, the gnawing of the rats, even the agony of lice, all torturous reminders of a soldier’s daily drama.
The changing visuals of black-and-white stills combined with colour footage from films, some entertaining comedy at the hands of a Mr. Charlie Chaplin, and action on the battlefield create a stimulating aesthetic, but the most poignant tool at Delassus’ disposal is the piercing narration of Paul Bandey. The combination of Bandey’s ominous narration and the sombre musical tones makes its mark on more than one occasion, dictating the mood throughout.
Another area in which the film excels is in illustrating the true paragons of particular emotions. The glory of national pride remains prominent throughout. The scenes in which soldiers write their letters to loved ones, masking their fear with words of hope and bravery, thus maintaining the aforementioned misconceptions of heroic glory, are especially eye-opening. Vengeance is also explored throughout; in the face of such ruthless cruelty, Protag instantly becomes consumed by a thirst for revenge, following one or two terrible injuries.
Of course, 14-18 is not intended as a comfortable watch, merely providing the odd moment of respite, in which we are filled in on more general details, before returning to the first-hand experiences of Protag and his comrades. This acts as a means of identification with the soldiers, who once in a while take a short break from the battlefield and return to their home towns and cities, only to be called back out to fight all too soon. The soldiers’ faith and in turn our own is tested, and in their despair, both soldiers and the townsfolk they have left behind look to the Church for renewed hope.
Protag’s story is gripping to the end, the powerful mix of devastating action scenes combined with the damaging emotional effect on our main protagonist producing a stunning climax as the war reaches its end and Protag learns his final fate.
Many war films fall flat by focusing too much attention on either mindless violence, or one story in amongst a million. 14-18: The Noise And The Fury succeeds in tying in two primary elements almost seamlessly – the arcing story of senseless warmongering and the faithless plight of the walking wounded.
The film at times feels like a throwback to the chalkboards and musty textbooks of history lessons; however, should 14-18: The Noise And The Fury be added to the school syllabus some day, the engaging content might see a sudden uprising of the average pass rate.
Delassus’ innovative and well structured documentary provides an absorbing and, at times, brutal angle to one of the great stories in recent history. 14-18: The Noise And The Fury endeavours to deliver exactly what it says on the tin, and packs quite a punch. MC
Film: Wushu
Year of production: 2008
Release date: 18th April 2011
Studio: MVM
Certificate: 12
Running time: 101 mins
Director: Antony Szeto
Starring: Sammo Hung, Wei Dong, Wu Dazhou, Lie Xin, Shi Yao
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama/Family/Martial Arts
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong
Language: Mandarin
Jackie Chan and Sammo Hung are back together (although only Sammo appears on screen with Jackie taking on the role of executive producer) for this 2008 action film aimed squarely at the younger generation, but will their combined efforts elevate the film to the dizzying heights reached with their previous collaborations as part of the Three Dragons?
The portly, yet oddly sprightly Mr Li (Sammo Hung) is a father to two boys and a martial arts teacher who is determined to honour his late wife’s memory by bringing up his sons in a manner she would approve of. At the Wushu school of martial arts he heads up, his two young sons Yi and Er quickly make friends with fellow classmates Yauwu, Zhang and Fong (the only girl of the group) and form the Jing Wu Men.
The Jing Wu Men grow up together, and each one of them becomes an expert in a chosen martial arts discipline by the time they reach their teenage years. Soon, they are joined by Xiao Yi, a pretty girl and fellow martial artist who Zhang takes a shine to, and doesn’t particularly mind being kicked in the face by during an arranged ‘duel’. At the same time, a gang led by Le, a wayward former pupil of the Wushu school, begins kidnapping young children, and the Jing Wu Men set out to save the day.
Their efforts to defeat the gang intensify when two young twins from the school are kidnapped along with one of the Jing Wu Men and Nan, another former pupil who works as a film stuntman and fight choreographer. Mr Li, his son Yi and Yauwu are called into action to rescue the kidnap victims, but the evil Le proves to be a remarkably tough adversary. At least until he starts fighting dirty, and Mr Li starts throwing his weight around...
If you’re looking for a martial arts film with plenty of historical detail and narrative depth, Wushu is not the film to go for, but if flashy fun, cheesy music and gawky teenage romance are what you’re after, look no further. The kids start out cute and talented, and pretty much stay that way as teenagers. They have their problems, but Mr Li and his beautiful, ever supportive sidekick Miss Zhang are always on hand to help.
It would be easy to pick fault with Wushu, but it’s better just to enjoy the flaws as amusing oddities rather than labour over them. Early in the film, for example, the pint-sized Jing Wu Men basically steal, or ‘rescue’, a puppy from an old man they surmise might want to eat it, then pretty much abandon the puppy when it leads them to what will become their secret hideaway. Well, maybe they don’t abandon the puppy after all; it is possible that they hungrily devour it themselves off-camera, but we’re probably not meant to worry about that.
The main appeal of Wushu is the expertly filmed martial arts action. With the aid of split screens, slow motion and upbeat, relentlessly sugary music, the action sequences give the film an energetic, hyper-kinetic wow factor that kids and not-too-demanding martial arts fans will love. The main story and simple sub-plots do just enough to hold it all together, and the young cast are all perfectly likeable as the Jing Wu Men. It doesn’t always go smoothly for them, and they do have the odd setback to deal with, so you’re not left with the feeling of wanting to throttle them (much), but all ends well, as you would expect.
There is very little blood, though Nan very nearly does get his skull cracked open ‘like an egg’ with a sledgehammer by one of Le’s henchmen, and Mr Li gets a bloody lip in the climactic fight with Le. It could have been a lot worse for Mr Li, though, if Le had just been a bit quicker with that saw... And if you’re not in the mood for reading subtitles, there’s also a dubbed version with American accents.
Martial arts purists will probably turn their noses up at Wushu, and it’s certainly ripe for parody, but as a harmless bit of fun, it makes for entertaining enough viewing. But exactly what did happen to that cute little puppy?
Wushu won’t set the world of martial arts films alight, but it’s undemanding, well crafted fun, and there are worse things for kids to emulate than the irrepressible Jing Wu Men. JG
Series: Vampire Knight Guilty: Part 1 – Episodes 1-4
UK Release date: 4th April 2011
Distributor: Manga
Certificate: 12
Running time: 96 mins
Director: Kiyoko Sayama
Starring: Yui Horie, Mamoru Miyano, Susumu Chiba, Jun Fukuyama, Hozumi Gôda
Genre: Anime
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese
Matsuri Hino’s dark shoujo manga, Vampire Knight Guilty returns to our screens for a second outing, with long-term director Kiyoko Sayama at its helm. Retaining its mysticism, Vampire Knight Guilty opens with the instability and uneasiness left as a result of the tragedy at the end of series one.
We return to Cross Academy, an institution secretly divided into Day and Night classes of humans and vampires, respectively. It is up to the main protagonists, Yuki and Zero to maintain balance and protect the human populous from the insatiable thirst of the vampires.
Episodes 1 to 4 see the return of Zero to the academy after his shadowy disappearance at the end of season one. His return is shrouded in doubt and confusion and unsettles the love triangle between himself, Yuki and pure-blood vampire Kaname.
This series continues to delve into the mysterious pasts of both Yuki and Zero whilst shedding light onto the childhood of Kaname. Zero continues to contemplate his identity as he struggles to cope with his deteriorating transformation into vampirism, and the effect this has on his relationship with Yuki and his rivalry with Kaname…
The series retains its sense of dark, brooding gothicism, but in a far more contrived way. The constant barrage of imagery from the title and end credits is sickeningly clichéd. The sequences featuring blood-soaked roses, butterflies, glistening spiders webs and shadowy forests works clearly as a means to heighten the romanticism of vampirism. And to those watching the series after a certain vampire franchise will immediately see its similarities with the twilight fanaticism of recent years (however, Vampire Knight was first to establish the vampire/human romance story). From the credits alone, Vampire Knight Guilty is a fangirl’s dream series of handsome, brooding vampires and lovesick schoolgirls.
The cast of the original series return, some with more relevance than in the previous season. In episode one, the Vampire Council invade the school grounds to kill Zero for murdering the pure-blood Shizuka. They finally emerge as a powerful entity after remaining shadowed through much of the first season. The series does well at integrating a huge cast of protagonists and supporting characters, including the return of Ichiru, Zero’s twin brother. It just begs the question will these individuals get enough screen-time for them to be relevant to the overall story?
Yuki’s character is yet again searching for the answers to her blurred past, as she tries to piece together her feelings for both Zero and Kaname. This series pushes the mystery surrounding her character up a notch, as her flashbacks and visions intensify in episode four – it would seem she has a much closer connection to vampirism than first thought. Her research in the Hunter Association’s records end in the book bursting into flames - it seems someone or something doesn’t want her to remember her past. She retains her cutesy and bashful personality, but with far fewer comedic scenes her sudden anime gimmicks seem out of place for the mood that is set up around her. As for the bishonen characters of Zero and Kaname, they seem to hold greater depth, perhaps due to the fact they can remember their tormented pasts. Kaname’s stoic and cool demeanor is a fresh outlook on the vampire mythos, whereas Zero’s moody ‘emo’, comes across annoying rather than convincing as he wanders from scene to scene moping like a spoilt teenager.
The series has an interesting plot point in that both humans and vampires inhabit Cross Academy, but this potentially intriguing concept is scarpered before it even begins. The Day Class students, who we are introduced to at the start of episode one and the end of episode two, are hormonal teenagers infatuated with the elite Night Class. The animation between the two factions is also interesting here, whilst the Day Class students all have the same chibi facial expression and brunette hair, the students of the Night Class are beautifully drawn, each with his/her own particular style. Similarly, they are the only students, apart from Yuki and Zero, to be seen outside of the school grounds. The Night Class’ pretentious cliché at being the cool, good-looking crowd feels more American high school rather than the mysterious ethos the series establishes around vampire folklore.
Repression becomes the key word in understanding the love-triangle between the three leading characters. The romantic scenes are poorly executed and come off as corny attempts in trying to establish the vampire as a brooding individual who would rather protect the female’s humanity rather than exploit her sexually. After seeing the hormone-fuelled actions of licking necks and heavy breathing and grunting across several episodes, it becomes clear that Vampire Knight Guilty is trying to build some kind of romantic tension at an achingly slow level that becomes more of a hindrance than a satisfying narrative choice. Instead of accepting this choice, one is yelling at the screen to get over your temptation and just bite her! With hints of homoeroticism thrown in for good measure, Vampire Knight Guilty plays to fangirl ideology, which is completely fine for fans of the genre but for a fan of anime new to this particular sort of series, it plays out like a poor attempt to flesh out a now tiresome genre.
Rather than building tension, the love-triangle becomes tedious at the lack of action between the three of them - the action is subconscious in that it never reaches physical expression. This is certainly not directed at their relationships sexually but in general; they seem to lack the ability of conversing and telling each other how they truly feel, instead it becomes a series of dull facial expressions and over-articulated inner monologues recounting that characters repressed emotions.
The start to this series does have its redeeming features, far from rushing through the narrative, the series does not falter in the details. The back-stories and previous situations are integrated well through flashbacks, (although you do feel like you are having them pummeled into you) and the series does well to make sure no stone is left unturned, whilst maintaining the overall mystery of the story.
The animation is good, although it does rely heavily upon anime clichés; far too many times do chibi-esque facial expressions and mannerisms occur that don’t quite fit. This is fine for fans of anime, but a little childish for those expecting to watch a more adult-appropriate series. Aside from the annoying opening theme, the music is surprisingly well thought out, providing the right amount of atmosphere and mystery to help the narrative along. The same goes for the well placed sound effects that enrich and enhance the mood.
Episodes 1-4 open with the uncertainty left by the events of the previous series, and opens this series out with premises of the dark mysteriousness that made the show successful in the first place. It seems as Yuki’s past memories intensify, so too do the audience’s questions. Who is the mysterious man, the Vampire Senate call lord in episode four? What is the story behind the ‘Cursed Twins’? How is Yuki connected? For each the slight answers these initial episodes give, the series throws another five back at you. It is what guides the series and obviously enthralls the viewer, although at times achingly slow and drab. The romance is there, the action is there, the characters are there, all orchestrated within an interesting narrative, it is just a shame that it all seems a bit complacent and lackluster. However, the series has time to develop and hopefully bring about an impressive and well-executed conclusion. LF
Film: The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest
Year of production: 2009
Release date: 11th April 2011
Studio: Momentum
Certificate: 15
Running time: 147 mins
Director: Daniel Alfredson
Starring: Noomi Rapace, Michael Nyqvist, Lena Endre, Sofia Ledarp, Annika Hallin
Genre: Crime/Drama/Thriller
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Sweden/Denmark/Germany
Language: Swedish
The politically-outspoken Stieg Larsson left this world in a blaze of controversy, but his legacy remains a lasting one. His Millennium Trilogy has gained a massive fanbase, some awards attention, and has even been successful enough to get David Fincher on board for an American remake of the franchise, as Hollywood inevitably cashes in on the popularity of the books themselves. Many have been captivated by the exploits of his heroine Lisbeth Salander; her troubled past and volatile present, and it looks as if we’ll have to endure more of the girl for a few years yet. If rumours are to be believed, there’ll also be a fourth book (there were originally intended to be ten), penned by Larsson’s long-term partner, Eva Gabrielsson, and directly following on from the relatively open-ended The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest. For now, however, this film represents the culmination of Salander’s tumultuous relationship with men.
Even those who are indifferent towards the first two instalments will find Hornets’ Nest required viewing – given that it sews up a lot of the girl’s incurred wounds. The Girl Who Played With Fire left Lisbeth bloodied and bruised after being shot in the head by her father, who she then attempted to kill with an axe.
While both lie in hospital, a Soviet spy ring worry that the secrets of Lisbeth’s past will be revealed to the world by Mikael Blomkvist’s magazine Millennium and endeavour to put a stop to the people that stand in their way.
Lisbeth herself must cope with an impending ‘attempted murder’ trial and the emergence of Dr. Peter Teleborian, the murky figure who oversaw her stay at a mental institution at the age of 12...
Divulging all of the key plot details would probably need a handbook in itself, but many of the events in the narrative all serve a similar purpose. It’s well documented that this series of books was intended to be titled ‘For Women Who Hate Men’, and that would certainly have been apt. You can count on one hand the number of positive male characters in all three films combined. Not content with having plagued Lisbeth with an abusive father, a sadistic serial killer and a rapist for a Legal Guardian, Hornets’ Nest dredges up the paedophile doctor who kept her strapped to a hospital bed for over a year. The film demonises the doctor as a sinister, evil liar, and does so to once again extricate sympathy for its weary heroine, who you feel has had to put up with far too much by the time the courtroom scenes roll around. From the aged villains involved in the conspiracy during her childhood, to the stilted lawyers who oppose her, the film acts as a final, determined effort to make the white male seem as thoroughly corrupt and sub-human a species as is fully possible. This might be a film intent on flaunting the abilities of its principal female character, but it victimises her through sexuality rather than empowers her through it, and shies away from considering the ambiguities within her thought process. In making her a statement of subculture, Hornets’ Nest strips her of identity, and has more in common with fascism than feminism.
While finely-paced and staunchly faithful to its literary roots, it’s difficult to accept much of what happens in Hornets’ Nest as credible crime writing. None of the issues involving Blomkvist and his magazine are particularly insightful or interesting, and the creative decisions often lean towards cartoonish depictions of villainy. Lisbeth’s brother, for instance, has a disorder which means he cannot feel pain, and proceeds to roam the wilderness Michael Myers-style, killing everyone and everything in sight before returning to enact some form of family vengeance in the film’s clumsy final act. In many ways, Hornets’ Nest is a subdued epilogue to the events that have gone on before it, devoid of real intensity beyond the trial scenes, and overwhelmed by the sprawling impression that the characters are picking up the pieces. If all ten books were to be completed and adapted, this would more likely serve as one of the fillers of the series, tying up exposition and achieving relative equilibrium, before it’s ready to introduce another callous male antagonist.
Too much of the film’s genuine drama either stems from relaying events in its heroine’s past, or creating overtly-shocking displays of sexuality and violence. The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest has a propensity towards displaying violence as both a poison and an antidote, dangerously promoting vengeance as a quenching cure for bitterness. The previously-interesting Blomkvist becomes a fairly moot figure, and the dynamic between himself and Lisbeth is more frayed and uncertain here than in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and The Girl Who Played With Fire.
Regardless of its hard-hitting techniques, this latest addition to Scandinavian crime-drama falls on the wrong side of ugly, and more unforgivably is the dullest part of what, for now, remains a trilogy. CR
Film: Mamma Roma
Year of production: 1962
UK Release date: 25th April 2011
Distributor: Mr Bongo
Certificate: 15
Running time: 106 mins
Director: Pier Paolo Pasolini
Starring: Anna Magnani, Ettore Garofolo, Franco Citti, Silvana Corsini, Luisa Loiano
Genre: Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Italy
Language: Italian
For some, the name of Pier Paolo Pasolini conjures up images from films such as Salo and Oedipus Rex, but his second feature, Mamma Roma, is beautiful, raw and poetic. Full of contradictions and imagery that can be read on many levels, it is a class tragedy that marked the end of Pasolini’s neorealist style.
We first meet Mamma Roma at the wedding of her pimp, ushering three pigs into the hall where the reception is taking place. She sings bawdy songs and cackles like a witch, but she is happy, for it marks the moment she is free to live her life with her son, a life away from prostitution.
Mamma Roma moves her son to Rome from the countryside to set up a market stall and start a new life, but her son, Ettore, is forming some unhealthy attachments to a local promiscuous girl, a group of thieves, and a fence for stolen goods.
In her many efforts to set Ettore on a path that will make him the man she wants him to be, Mamma Roma will stop at nothing, but her actions have tragic consequences…
Pier Paolo Pasolini has never been known for subtlety, as anyone who has seen Pigsty or Salo can testify, and Mamma Roma is no exception. The language is crude and colloquial, the shots of Rome show nothing of the city’s beauty and the characters are all deeply flawed. From the opening reception dinner and the entrance of Mamma Roma, escorting three pigs into the room where the diners are eating, it is clear that we are watching a richly layered film. The entrance of the pigs has significance not just in their presence at this particular wedding reception, but also their representation of Italy. Pasolini adds layers to the scene with close-ups of the bride and groom’s facial expressions throughout, juxtaposing them with the laughter from Mamma Roma and other guests. It gets more complex when we find out that the groom is a pimp, and Mamma Roma has, in that moment, been released from his service. The whole scene, complete with a singing exchange, is by turns funny, tense and uncomfortable, and we’re only five minutes in.
From there, we follow Mamma Roma as she moves with her son to Rome. It is clear that class is high on the agenda, and the characters we follow all occupy the lowest rung. As a former prostitute, it is almost tragic to watch as Mamma Roma tries to force her son to understand the need to climb the social ladder. Her obsession with money and what the people of Rome will be like shows us how low these characters are, for when we arrive in Rome, we find concrete towers and wasteland, but still they feel they are stepping up, away from being ‘hicks’.
Pasolini’s camera treats every scene with reverence, as though the characters inhabited the finest architecture, and operated in the upper echelons of society. His long takes, beautiful tracking shots of Mamma Roma walking her beat, chatting (or in some cases lamenting) with potential clients, show a great deal of respect for the characters, and the actors - the majority of whom were not professionals.
Every scene is shot with more attention than perhaps the situations deserve. Considering the position these characters occupy, you could be forgiven for thinking the director was overdoing things just a little. His use of classical music and the grand shots of the landscape, in particular the concrete jungle with a lone dome (symbol of hope perhaps, or the unattainable) show affection for their predicament, and, ultimately, the tragic consequences of Mamma Roma’s flawed attempts to direct her son are all the more powerful for the imagery used.
For all the artistic qualities of the director and the cinematographer, this is Mamma Roma’s film. Anna Magnani dominates every scene with sheer presence. She plays Mamma Roma as one of the great matriarchs in cinematic history, chewing her dialogue and towering over every other actor, deafening the audience with her maniacal cackle. To Ettore she is a dictator, and despite wanting only to make sure he has everything he could want, she goes too far. She sets up a local businessman for blackmail in order that Ettore can work, she asks a prostitute friend to sleep with her son to take his mind from the local tramp, Bruna, and desperately tries to shield him from her past. As with all tragedies, the past catches up, and Ettore is forced away from her by her actions and her attitude into a life of crime with the people he calls friends. This life ends badly, and the final scene of Mamma Roma being held back from an open window, staring out at the dome, past the concrete blocks, is a powerful moment.
It would be easy for such a presence as Magnani to overpower the film, and even unbalance it, but such is the power of the storytelling, the realism portrayed by the amateur cast, and the handling of the drama by Pasolini, that her presence here brings everything vividly to life.
It is at the ending that we begin to see a little more into the mind of Pasolini, as in a prison hospital we hear an ageing inmate reciting the Divine Comedy to fellow convicts. It is here that perhaps we should ask ourselves which circle of hell we have ended up in, and which ones we have travelled through to get there.
Mamma Roma is relevant, rich and beautiful. Somehow the ugliest of settings is cast in a beautiful light by Pasolini, and as an audience we feel for Mamma Roma and Ettore as they struggle on the bottom rung of society’s ladder. For fans of Pasolini’s later work, it is interesting to see where he started, and to see the difference in the ways he chooses to share his views. Before the forays into depravity, and the anger of his later works, we can see tenderness for those on the bottom. RM
