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Film: Le Quattro Volte
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 30th May 2011
Distributor: New Wave
Certificate: U
Running time: 88 mins
Director: Michelangelo Frammartino
Starring: Giuseppe Fuda, Bruno Timpano, Nazareno Timpano
Genre: Drama
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: Italy/Germany/Switzerland
Language: Italian
Review by: Natalie Meziani
Le Quattro Volte is almost certainly not what you will expect to see. It is a film that manages to bypass even the most defiant of art house cinema; it takes all the rules and folds them into a happily drifting paper aeroplane. Director Michelangelo Frammartino has set his second full-length feature in the south Italian region of Calabria, where he uses goats, a tree, some charcoal and an old man to explore Pythagoras’ theory of transmigration – the idea that existence of the soul is dispersed amongst human, animal, vegetable and mineral. There is an absence of dialogue and music and human interaction, therefore its entire meaning depends upon the amount of work the viewer is willing to put in themselves.
Le Quattro Volte begins with a very brief glimpse into the life of an old goat herder, afflicted with a chesty cough, which he attempts to combat daily by taking a shot of water mixed with dusty scrapings from the local church floor. Superstition it may be, but one missed “medication” ends up as a fatal mistake. His imminent death leads to the second chapter in Pythagoras’ idea of a four-fold soul, as we traverse towards the animal stage: meet the chaotic goats. While the film’s single human character is on the verge of making a plodding exit, the herd of goats are left without control and thus run riot across the town.
There are goats everywhere: they are in the deceased herder’s house and they are on his kitchen table. After his body is carried away in a coffin, the screen turns black and re-opens upon the unrefined birth of a goat. The birth of said goat provides us with our next protagonist, as we follow the kid in its early stages of life, until one day it becomes separated from the herd. The goat comes across a tree, which is cut down and used in the town’s festivities the following year. Having finished their celebration, the tree is sold to coalmen who burn the wood into charcoal, metaphorically releasing the herder’s soul back to where it began…
The cinematography’s resemblance to real life gives the film a documentary-like feel, with no overt enhancement of colour and a consistent use of natural lighting. There is a relentless sound of bells as the goats traverse around the town, but there is otherwise very little background noise. There is most certainly no music or speech. But although this may initially sound dreary and far too pretentious, Le Quattro Volte has a certain indistinct charm in its diversity.
With no dialogue, the story is facilitated through the use of expression and scene composition. While the film’s content is essentially ominous and slow-paced, there is also something comical about watching the oblivious existence of the goats. The brilliant thing about Le Quattro Volte is its ability to run for 88 minutes without the audience craving dialogue. The metaphorical richness and the peaceful scenarios allow it to progress painlessly, which also permits the viewer to interpret the film entirely as they wish due to a lack of verbal direction.
The shepherd is portrayed as a quirky and traditional fellow: more pans than one man should require are hung on his kitchen wall; his stark bedroom consists primarily of a shabby bed and some chairs; and he spends a lot of time contemplating. Giuseppe Fuda plays the role of this slow-paced old man, sporting a constant vacant stare and moving with the deliberation of a hopeless soul. His behaviour appears entirely natural, leading you to forget that he is in fact an actor.
Vast colourless buildings complete what appears to be a relatively motionless town, with frequent landscape shots of an area where nature is a ruling force of calmness. There are regular extreme long shots which focus on still constructions, and so any human or animal activity is highlighted. The stillness of the camera also means that close-up shots hold a subtle poignancy - there is an early scene transition which fixates purely on falling dust particles, which Frammartino manages to pull off due to its sheer hypnotic simplicity.
Le Quattro Volte calmly captures the viewer in a bated gasp, with each breath slowly held back by the unknown course of the next scene. There are no sudden actions or miraculous surprises, but this in turn allows the richness of life to shine through. It gives the viewer a chance to run wild with their own existential thoughts, and escapes the fabricated fantasy world of predictable cinema.
For those unwilling to dedicate their attention to something so abstract and unconventional, Le Quattro Volte should be avoided at all costs. It requires 88 minutes of uninterrupted attention, but, as Frammartino whispers hopeful words into your subconscious, he allows all the doubts of man to dissolve into a wisp of charcoal smoke, giving the soul an immortality which most other films can only dream of. NM
Film: Life, Above All
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 27th May 2011
Distributor: Peccadillo
Certificate: PG
Running time: 100 mins
Director: Oliver Schmitz
Starring: Khomotso Manyaka, Keaobaka Makanyane, Harriet Lenabe, Lerato Mvelase, Tinah Mnumzana
Genre: Drama
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: South Africa
Language: Germany
Review by: Qasa Alom
Much has changed in the seventeen years since the Apartheid in South Africa ended and that is most certainly reflected in the country’s newest and arguably most powerful film. Replete with secrets, tension and unbearable sadness Oliver Schmitz latest picture, based on the international award winning novel ‘Chanda's Secrets’ by Allan Stratton, explores the country’s newest battle against segregation without holding back any punches.
Set in a small, sparse and dusty South African town where all the neighbours know each others business, Life, Above All centres around Chanda (Khomotso Manyaka), a bright and feisty young girl with wisdom and confidence that surpass her meagre 12 years. Although very keen to study hard and perhaps even one day attain a medical scholarship, Chanda faces the heavy burden of helping her widowed mother Lilian (Lerato Mvelase) look after the family, whilst also stopping her absent and drunken step-father from sporadically returning to steal their savings and fuel his vice.
The film opens with Chanda skipping school in order to buy a tiny coffin for the funeral of her newly born half-sister. Heartbroken and falling seriously ill Lilian is unable to take care of the family any more, which leads Chanda to re-prioritise her life and take on more responsibility for the wellbeing of her two infantile siblings.
Consequentially, the once studious Chanda becomes isolated from her peers and forms a strong bond with Esther (Keaobaka Makanyane), a charming but troubled orphan girl eschewed by the neighbourhood, who has had to turn to prostitution to support herself. The pair promise to always be friends, despite reproaches from Lilian that inevitably lead to tragic abandonment.
Though initially the tight-knit community support Lilians’ plight and invite her to continue her role helping out in the church in any way she can, rumours about her medical state begin to spread like wildfire and, soon enough, much like Esther, Chanda and her family are also shunned by the whole neighbourhood.
Even Mrs Tafa, Chanda’s next-door neighbour who had been helping to look after the two children, cannot alleviate the growing community resentment and convinces a sickly Lilian to leave for a short ‘vacation’ back to her old village to calm the situation.
Unable to take the strain of life without her mother, and with her two siblings constantly questioning her authority, Chanda yearns for knowledge of when their mother is going to return, leading to an epic journey of discovery that culminates in a realisation of one of South Africa’s biggest taboo topics…
The film benefits from dealing with delicate issues in a manner that retains global relevance. Thus despite many people in the West being in a more fortunate position than that of Chanda’s – dropping out of school, having an extremely sick mother, taking responsibility for raising younger siblings at a pre-teen age – the viewer is still able to not only sympathise but relate to the film and the central character’s plight. Moreover, the subsequent consequences in the film, such as isolation and being an outsider, are also common issues that people can engage with regardless of their background or connection to South Africa. Therefore, one of the film’s biggest strengths is fully immersing the viewer into the story to create a powerful emotional bond between spectator and characters.
Of course, none of this would have been possible without the support of a talented cast, and though the performance of Mapaseka Mathebe, who plays the unruly younger sibling of Chanda steals some scenes, adding colour and depth, Khomotso Manyaka is completely magnetic in her portrayal of 12-year-old Chanda.
With the whole film ultimately revolving around her, Manyaka portrays a wide variety of emotions, from youthful exuberance to the coy flirtations of a first love, with aplomb and even revels in the more morose or serious moments, with a subtle facial expression or look in the eye betraying her vulnerable, yet determined character. However, it is in the chemistry with the other characters that she elevates herself and indeed the film to another level, packing the picture with an emotional punch.
The relationship with Lerato Mvelase, who plays her mother Lilian, is utterly moving, with their roles reversing as the film progresses. Then there is the tender bond with Esther, which effortlessly elicits all the nuances and complexities of a friendship between two people heading in different directions. Finally, though, it is when Chanda and Auntie Tata are on screen together that sparks really fly. Both scowl and frown their way through the 100 minute running time, with the tensions between the pair constantly bubbling away beneath the surface; sure enough, it finally culminates in an electric argument where the two characters provide vastly different mindsets of two generations in South African society.
That is not to say that the film is without its faults. Technical aspects are often quite laborious or out of synch with the natural ease of the film’s content. Sound and lighting in particular is used on more than one occasion to illustrate a certain atmosphere or mood; however, instead of enhancing the moment, they simply jar with the plot to create a scene that is simply excessive, reminding viewers that they are watching a film and obviously telling us what to feel. The technique of using stormy weather and rain to foreshadow tragic scenes is overused and detrimental.
Schmitz also has difficulty in achieving the right balance between light and shade; although the picture’s subject matter is very serious and quite ambitious for what it’s trying to achieve, the overriding messages are ladled on too thick without giving the viewer much of a break. This inevitably creates a rather stodgy film in parts that may even come across as quite didactically preachy.
Life, Above All is a grand, inspirational and very important picture for South Africa that has worldwide appeal. The characters are all more than likeable, which helps the viewer to engage with the story, and Schmitz also succeeds in portraying the contrast of mindsets in South Africa, from people who still shy away from progress and modernity, to those who are trying to give everybody a chance. Although, at times, the picture becomes rather instructive, the warmth and emotional power renders the film a huge success for South African cinema. QA
Film: Heartbeats
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 27th May 2011
Distributor: Network
Certificate: 15
Running time: 97 mins
Director: Xavier Dolan
Starring: Monia Chokri, Niels Schneider, Xavier Dolan, Anne Dorval, Anne-Élisabeth Bossé
Genre: Drama/Romance
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: Canada
Language: French
Review by: Patrick Gamble
French-Canadian writer-director-star, Xavier Dolan took the festival circuit by storm back in 2009 with I Killed My Mother. This promising debut quickly stapled his name onto every ‘up-and-coming’ director list around. Heartbeats was completed only a year later and critics now will get to decide whether Dolan is indeed the new ‘great white hope’ many proclaimed him to be, or simply another case of a young man who peaked to early.
Heartbeats depicts the tale of a doomed ménage à trois. Our two central protagonist are Francis (Xavier), a stylish gay man who longs to be loved, and Marie (Monia Chokri), a young girl with a delightful shabby chic style that aspires for that perfect partner with whom to overcome the sexual trappings of a relationship and find the perfect ‘spoon’ fit, which she believes is the secret to a long and meaningful partnership.
We join these two close friends who, whilst enjoying a leisurely lunch with mutual acquaintances, both land eyes on the same man, Nicolas (Niels Schneider), a young boy fresh from the country who’s newly arrived in town. As soon as they both coyly declare they have no interest in this fresh faced Adonis, we know what we’re in store for.
A series of intimate rendezvous leads the trio into an uncontrollable love triangle as both Francis and Marie fight for the attentions of this new object of their desires. The pair both eventually fall deeper into a pit of obsession and fantasy, and as their feeling escalate, it becomes clear that it won’t just be their emotions that are put to the test but also the resolve of their cast-iron friendship. Indeed, Nicolas become something of a poisoned chalice, and what at first starts out as a story of the poetic craziness of falling in love soon becomes more a study of the humiliation of rejection and the heartfelt pain that loneliness can bring…
The issue of a love triangle is nothing new in cinematic terms. Recent French cinema has already delighted us with Les Chansons d’Amour (a delightful love letter to the musicals of Jacques Demy) and Dreamers (a flawed but no less enjoyable celebration of classic cinema). Heartbeats attempts to shine a different light on the topic by focusing on the destructive element it can inevitably have on the ones it hurts. Whilst it may sound an attractive prospect, a relationship shared three ways generally only heightens the percentage of chance that someone will be cast aside when the novelty expires and the usual traumas and tribulations of a real relationship start to raise their heads. Director Xavier Dolan’s has decided not to shy away from this fact and has instead wallowed within it. However, its many flaws along the way prevent it from being the masterpiece he has set out to make.
The first place to start with this critique would be the seemingly redundant frame narrative that Dolan has wrapped around the story – where individuals give their views on sexual encounters and try to shed their own light on the reasons relationships so often fail. These ‘talking heads’ segments seem like little more than an obvious attempt to fill in the gaps of what is quite a superficial movie, which hasn’t the depth to cover the magnitude of these emotional issues. Unfortunately, Dolan’s attempts to cover all too many bases fails and what actually transpires is nothing more than an irritatingly, self-centered side piece that not only acts to disrupt the film’s pace but also never seems to gel with the incidents that surround it.
Following on with this theme of self-centered storytelling is the obvious issue of Xavier Dolan himself. There is always a hint of arrogance in the air with any director who decides to cast himself in the leading role. Numerous times throughout the film peripheral characters refer to his character as “cute” or “handsome,” and there comes a point when this glorification of one’s self becomes hard to stomach. The decision to take the role of a very self detrimental character also screams of nothing more than preposterous attention seeking and greatly influences the overall enjoyment of a film which ultimately feels like nothing more than a man singlehandedly crying out to be noticed. Dolan is quite obviously a handsome man with a lot of underused talent, so his need to act like this becomes infuriating for the less ‘glamorous’ members of the audience who no doubt aren’t even close to having the looks or artistic talent to rival this seemingly unfulfilled young man. He clearly has the opportunity to do great things if only he focused more on his art than what others think of him.
This try-hard attitude is also apparent within other elements of the film. The soundtrack, for example, is filled with classic ‘calling card’ bands and blares out at an uncomfortable decibel level, forcing you to pay attention regardless of whether or not the gratuitous over use of strobe lighting has already directed your attention away to other less objectionable sights in the cinema – like perhaps the plush velour of the seat in front or the inviting gleam of the exit sign. To be fair, though, there are moments where Dolan does manage to successfully navigate this fine line between high art and obnoxious pomposity (like a glorious use of a classical score to heighten the film’s more intimate moments).
This is certainly a film which falls into the category of style over substance, yet the stylish tricks performed, which don’t come across as overly gratuitous or farcical, all point to a talented filmmaker with an obvious eye for a shot and an ability to make the most from a modest cast list. He may wear his influences firmly on his sleeve (whether it be the slow motion imitation of In The Mood For Love or the obvious comparisons with Jules et Jim) and this ability to re-create such style whilst maintaining the film’s own unique direction is worthy of praise. Unfortunately, these flashes of brilliance only illuminate the numerous flaws of a director who’s clearly underperforming.
Heartbeats is a film you’ll desperately want to fall in love with. Yet Dolan’s attempts to mix high art with deadpan humour in a framework of emotional devastation falls just short, resulting in a somewhat cluttered, arrogant mess of a film that may well excite and titillate at first, but will ultimately leave you disappointed by the end – but like all immature crushes, given time, it’ll become completely forgettable. PG
Film: Julia’s Eyes
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 20th May 2011
Distributor: Optimum
Certificate: 15
Running time: 112 mins
Director: Guillem Morales
Starring: Belén Rueda, Lluís Homar, Pablo Derqui, Francesc Orella, Joan Dalmau
Genre: Horror/Thriller
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: Spain
Language: Spanish
Review by: Dave O Butnu
The return of giallo to the international film circuit will be just the thing many horror fans have been waiting for, and with recent successes like Amer, we can only wait with baited breath for the next crazy European psycho killer to mess with our brains. New Spanish thriller Julia’s Eyes could well be the next big thing. Anyone that’s seen The Orphanage will certainly have high hopes, given that it is made by the same team, but can such a mainstream aesthetic live up its more visually flamboyant predecessors?
The story follows Julia, who has a degenerative condition which leads to blindness. Her twin sister has the same affliction and is found hanged in a basement soon after losing her sight. The verdict is suicide, but Julia suspects something more sinister at play.
As she begins to unravel her sister’s personal life, she finds herself in a losing battle for her own eyesight. However, her growing obsession drives her on to continue hunting for the person that she is convinced has killed her sister.
The trail of clues leads to a nail biting conclusion, as Julia discovers how her sister died…
Just in case you’re not too sure what giallo is, it’s a genre that was popularised by some legendary filmmakers, such as Mario Bava and Dario Argento. Most giallo movies were made between 1960 and 1990, but in the last two decades, the genre has been something of a rarity in cinemas. It is a type of thriller/horror which originated in Italy. They are called gialli (plural), which simply means ‘yellow’, because many were based on detective novels which came with a yellow cover. Generally, giallo involves a number of characters who are all killed off one by one by a mysterious gloved/masked killer.
There is usually a strong psychological element, as well as sexual themes and a lot of focus on style and fashion. Julia’s Eyes features just about all of the tell-tale signs of giallo, with numerous plot twists and mind games at play. For most of Julia’s Eyes, we find ourselves frequently changing our minds about if there really is a killer and who they might be. In terms of its script and story, this film is a meticulously constructed rollercoaster of fear and suspense.
It may be obvious, but the dominant theme of Julia’s Eyes is vision and voyeurism, which is always a subject close to the heart of cinema. The power of the gaze is often regarded as a metaphor for sexual and physical dominance; however, when the gaze is taken away, we are infinitely more vulnerable and impotent. These concepts all manifest through Julia’s struggle to keep her vision, which is cleverly used to take us to some very dark places indeed. It is said that the most frightening films place the horror off camera, but Julia’s Eyes actually puts it in front of the camera and keeps us from really being able to see it. It’s almost as if this approach makes the most of both displaying and concealing at the same time, creating a whole new perspective on fear and edge-of-your-seat suspense.
This theme is explored through the dialogue and events, but, most strikingly, through the visuals. Unlike the vibrant, colourful imagery of Amer, and many other gialli, Julia’s Eyes mostly presents us with shades of gloom and grey. Many of the sets use very low key lighting and restrict what is visible, using what we can’t see to create tension and suspense. It also implements a lot of out of focus shots and shadows, further obscuring what can be seen.
Starring in the title role is Belén Rueda, who also played the lead role in The Orphanage. Belen seems to have an amazing talent for playing the distressed, as once again we see her as a character that is quite literally on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She conveys this distress so well that it envelops the audience in her hysterical panic.
Julia’s husband, Isaac, is played by Lluís Homar, who also appeared in the Pedro Almodovar film Bad Education (incidentally Almodovar produced Guillermo del Toro’s The Devils Backbone). Homar plays the role of Isaac brilliantly, with a thoroughly believable performance. His role in Julia’s Eyes is not an easy one. Isaac is a husband whose wife is apparently going crazy and blind, but his ability to adapt to each new twist in the story, with just enough restraint to make us question his virtues, is a truly uncanny ability.
One other notable element of this movie is the use of flash bulbs to blind people in the dark. This echoes perfectly the voyeuristic Hitchcock classic Rear Window, both visually and thematically. This light bulb homage is a very fitting reference, considering that Rear Window and Julia’s Eyes share a lot in terms of the themes that they both tackle, since both films feature amateur sleuths with not just disabilities, but restricted viewpoints.
Julia’s Eyes is a more subtle giallo than most, offering all the usual giallo hallmarks, but in a much more conventional and mainstream package. The plot will keep you guessing from start to finish and may also deliver a few (un)pleasant surprises, which makes Julia’s Eyes a must for any fan of European slashers and gialli, but perhaps, more importantly, a very accessible introduction for anyone new to it. Julia’s Eyes is an all round pleaser, ticking all the boxes and offering the occasional bit of gore as a bonus. DOB
Film: Love Like Poison
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 13th May 2011
Distributor: Artificial Eye
Certificate: 12A
Running time: 92 mins
Director: Katell Quillévéré
Starring: Clara Augarde, Lio, Michel Galabru, Stefano Cassetti, Thierry Neuvic
Genre: Drama
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: France
Language: French/Italian
Review by: Patrick Gamble
Coming of age dramas are as synonymous with French cinema as socio-economic films about class divides are to the independent British film industry. This long running love affair began with The 400 Blows, which sparked not only this genre but a revolution across cinemas around Europe, all the way to more contemporary fare, such as the lesser heralded, but no less poignant, Blame It On Fidel and Water Lilies. It’s no doubt a well trodden path, but for good reason, as the subject matter has a mysterious ability to continually charm and engage us as an audience. The scenery may change and, as generations fly by, the rules may become more liberal, but despite the constantly evolving transitions of these rites of passage, the confusion and awkwardness of the progression from childhood to adulthood is something that is ever present and instantly recognisable – indeed, it’s something that regardless of sex, race or beliefs we can all identify with in one way or another.
When 14-year-old Anna (Clara Augarde) returns home from her Catholic boarding school for the summer holidays, she discovers that things aren’t quite as they should be in her quiet rural household. Her father has finally flown the family nest, leaving her distraught mother seeking consolation through her faith; specifically from the village’s young priest, Father Francois. Perhaps to escape these external dilemmas, or in an attempt to fill the recent father shaped void in her life, Anna, in no less a charitable action, decides to take on the responsibility of caring for her ill grandfather, who may well be at death’s door but certainly isn’t lacking in youthful verve or spirit.
As the long summer days unwind, she begins to submerge herself in a series of romantic rendezvous with neighbouring altar boy Pierre. This exploration of her budding sexuality only exacerbates her already turbulent inner struggle dealing with adolescence. Combined with the fact that her conformation is just days away, she is torn between advancing herself sexually or spiritually...
The most striking element of this film is undoubtedly the exceptional performance coaxed out of acting debutant Clara Augarde. This young girl has been thrown straight into the deep end with this unconventionally honest role, yet she comes across ever the professional, looking like a well honed actress with the world at her feet. She appears in almost every shot and, perhaps down to her closeness in age with the character, she deals with these awkward pubescent moments with a quality of natural performance rarely seen. Many teenage girls would justifiably run a mile if asked to perform some of the film’s incredibly personal and revealing scenes, yet Augarde commendably takes it in her stride, impressively shifting between the fragility of a child and the staunch defiance of a newly empowered woman.
This slow and subtle drama certainly aims to be more than just a mere coming of age tale, instead evolving into a deceptively slight portrait of natural human behaviour. Most crucially, showcasing our constant struggle against carnal urges through the self-imposed chains we use to restrain ourselves, whether it be through laws, religion or just a sense of common decency. Despite the heavy focus on young Anna, there is definitely a wealth of other well rounded characters from which the film derives its narrative.
As well as Anna’s fragile family dynamic, there’s the rather interesting sub plot involving the young girl’s mother and the priest. Both seem to acknowledge that there’s a mutually reciprocated attraction, but, due to their strong religious values, it is never consummated. Indeed, it is this portrayal of various troubled relationships, by director Katell Quillévéré that separates Love Like Poison from similar, yet more singularly focused tales of such youthful trials. In particular, the divisive use of Pierre, the young boy Anna becomes transfixed with, is of great interest - the similarities with himself and Anna’s father turns an otherwise sweet (if not slightly awkward and fumbling) relationship into a haunting depiction of how fatally flawed we are as human beings, continually repeating the mistakes of our forefathers.
As to be expected, one of the central themes explored here is the bond between mother and daughter. Not only do they share the wealth of the screen time, but theirs is also the most complex and engaging of all the relationships on show here. With one discovering her new found womanhood and the other’s biological clock counting down rapidly, their mirroring physical changes makes for an emotionally charged series of encounters.
Music, too, plays a huge role in Quillevere’s first feature film. Its title literally translates as ‘The Violent Poison’ and come from a Serge Gainsborough song that focuses on the tension love can create, pulling apart families. It’s perhaps the use of traditional folk music, all sang by women, that is the most interesting, acting as a comforting collection of ‘words of wisdom’ to reassure us that Anna’s problems are as old as time.
Anna’s grandfather adds some much needed light relief; however, it’s a role which is underdeveloped and could have a lot more to offer than just the jovial offhand remarks we are privy to. His atheist, and light-hearted beliefs could have lead to a viewpoint on the issues of love and sexual desires unhindered by religious constraints that would have helped engage the film to a wider audience - who may otherwise find the heavy use of Catholicism a little too suffocating and alien to relate with.
There is also a disappointing lack of dramatic conflict considering the heightened anxiety that broods behind each interaction within this quaint Breton parish. Whilst this slow burning build up creates an interesting and initially gripping level of tension, the lack of any final emotive explosion or conclusive scene of redemption leaves an unremarkable taste, which does little to separate it from recent films such as Jessica Hausner’s Lourdes; another beautifully shot film steeped in questionable religious traditions, which equally takes an impartial viewpoint after initially promising to do much more with the subject matter.
This empathetic vision of adolescence, whilst a competent piece of searching filmmaking, ultimately lacks enough confrontation to make its detached mood stay with you any further than the end credits. Whilst this quintessentially introspective coming of age drama certainly holds its own, it could have doubtlessly made more of the existential aroma or religion it shrouds itself in. More is the pity as Quillevere and Augarde are, based on the flashes of brilliance shown in this their debut feature, certainly both names to watch out for. PG
Film: Deep End
Year of production: 1970
UK Release date: 6th May 2011
Distributor: BFI
Certificate: 15
Running time: 88 mins
Director: Jerzy Skolimowski
Starring: Jane Asher, John Moulder-Brown, Karl Michael Vogler, Christopher Sandford, Diana Dors
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Romance/Thriller
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: West Germany/UK
Language: English
Review by: Patrick Gamble
In 2008, Jerzy Skolimowski returned from a self imposed, seventeen year absence from directing (reportedly to concentrate on his true passion – painting) with his much lauded come back, Four Nights With Anna. Last month he followed up that success with Essential Killing, described by many as his most painterly presented film yet. It has also gained high praise for its lead performance by Vincent Gallo – an actor renowned for being difficult to direct. To coincide with its release, and to celebrate this underrated director’s return from the cinematic wilderness, the good people of the BFI have gracefully decided to restore one of Skolimowski’s most revered and respected pieces from the 1970s – his previously unattainable cult hit about adolescent passion, Deep End.
Mike (John Moulder-Brown) is fresh out of school and still very much wet behind the ears when he takes up his first job as a bathroom attendant at a rundown swimming baths in West London. It is here he meets Susan (Jane Asher) and it doesn’t take long before this attractive young redhead, with her breathtaking beauty and teasing demeanour, becomes the object of Mike’s obsessions.
The revelation that not only is Susan engaged, but also having a lurid affair with Mike’s former P.E teacher, is like an arrow through the young boy’s heart. Yet, whilst many of us would begrudgingly surrender defeat, and bottle away our carnal desires, it only strengthens Mike’s resolve to destroy Susan’s wedding plans and expose her adulterous nature in an attempt to make her his own.
What starts as an innocent crush soon manifests itself as something much worse and as Mike’s determination over takes his common sense, the lines of decency and morality begin to diminish and there seems to be no stopping the momentum of this treacherous fixation. He quickly falls steadfast into a series of events which look on course to end in tears…
Released during the height of the French New Wave and the hangover effect of the swinging ‘60s, Skolimowski’s British made tale of obsession and desire is a delightful mix of the type of work that both Godard and Truffaut were creating at the time but with a distinctive underlying English sensibility. This delightful mix of the desolate beauty of London with the sort of subtle nuances and loving attention given to character detail which we’ve come to love from the nouvelle vague truly separates Deep End from a lot of the cinema being produced here at that time. Our unconscious manner for comparing and creating films to the modern Hollywood mould often results in nothing more than a continued conveyor belt of drab, uninspired and, most importantly, unoriginal films. Deep End is a wonderful example of how drawing influence from other cultures can have a strikingly profound effect on a movie without making it completely inaccessible to a wider audience.
John Moulder-Brown does a wonderful job with the character of Mike. Starting off as a picture of innocence, he seamlessly crosses the boundaries of right and wrong without succumbing to a melodramatic about turn, making his performance all the more haunting. Jane Asher, with her ‘60s chic style and piercing stare needs little direction in portraying a temptress; she could quite easily have stood mute on screen for the film’s entirety and still have passed as competent within the role. However, she doesn’t and you’ll soon find yourself sympathising with Mike’s infatuation for her, although perhaps not to the same fatal degree. A fleeting cameo by Doris Dors is also due a mention, as a mildly camp carry-on-esque turn as a steamy, bath house patron. She undoubtedly opens Mike’s eyes to the seedy underside of adulthood and singlehandedly removes the last shreds of his innocence. It’s a pivotal performance that could so easily have undone Skolimowski’s hard work at creating a story of passion without hysteria, yet instead adds some light relief to an otherwise subtly sinister depiction of sexual fixation.
Deep End also garnished its cult status thanks to its eclectic soundtrack by Krautrock heroes Can and the guilty pleasure that is Cat Stevens. The fact that the undiscerning ear could easily miss this whilst watching is in itself a compliment to the film’s production. It’s ever present, yet its unobtrusive nature makes it a perfect companion, never distracting you from the story that unfolds in front of your eyes or the dialogue that wisps along so elegantly.
The only criticism to be levied towards Deep End is the fairly obvious symbolic clues it leaves along the way that perhaps make the ending (which in itself has left many viewers wanting) not as poignant as perhaps it could have been. The final third lacks the ambiguity this film’s rich build up deserves, like those sitcoms which leave you cringing at what’s to follow. Skolimowski dark observation of Mike’s perilous descent into a maddening addiction for Susan, however palpable it may seem, surpasses being unbearable and instead leaves only the question of how this obvious fate will manifest itself into its logical conclusion.
Regarding the film’s digital transfer, the hard working restoration team at the BFI have yet again managed to do justice to another lost classic. The film may have aged noticeably, and the age old problem of poor 1970s dubbing is still apparent, but with regard to the lovingly recreated film print, you’d be hard pressed to criticise what is at heart a marvellous achievement for a film which deserves such a beautiful return to the big screen.
With Deep End, Skolimowski may have dived head first into the deepest part of the male psyche, but by no means does he sink under the pressure. Instead, he has created a film which manages to propel past its self imposed obstacles, which could otherwise have left it stranded in a sea of teenage confusion. PG
Europe’s largest Taiwanese Film Festival is back for its third edition with four film Premieres.
The festival, which will kick off on May 26th at the Apollo Cinema, Piccadilly with surprise critical and box office smash Seven Days In Heaven by emerging directing duo, Wang Yu-lin and Essay Liu.
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| Monga |
The line-up will also include the 2010 Berlin film festival contender and Taiwan’s official entry for Best Foreign Language Film, Monga by Niu Chen-Zer. The film which has become one of the most successful in Taiwanese box office history stars Asia heart throb’s Ethan Ruan and Mark Zhao.
Also playing will be Leon Dai’s Can’t Live Without You (No Puedo Vivir Sin Ti), offering audiences a profoundly moving drama about a father’s quest to stay with his daughter despite the intervention of the state upholding an irregular bureaucratic rule that may force them to separate.
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| Love In Disguise |
Wang Leehom’s directorial debut, Love In Disguise, will form part of the first Taiwan Cinefest Cross Strait Film Section recognising Taiwanese talent’s contribution in Greater China.
For more information on the event, visit the festival’s official website by clicking here.
Fourteen films, amongst them UK and European premieres, will be screened at the Prince Charles Cinema, London as part of this year’s Terracotta Far East Film Festival 2011. The event takes place between 5th and 8th May 2011. The films are:
The Lost Bladesman (Guan Yu Chang)
Donnie Yen as the great historical figure Guan Yu from the Three Kingdoms.
Hotel Black Cat (Hei Mao Da Lu She)
Past traumas still linger with the eclectic residents at Hotel Black Cat.
The Tiger Factory
Would you sell your baby to escape to a new life abroad?
Revenge: A Love Story (Fuk sau che chi sei)
A serial killer targeting pregnant women is on the loose.
Man Of Vendetta (Pagwidwin Sanai)
Eight years after his daughter has been kidnapped, a father gets a call from the kidnapper.
Helldriver (Heru Doraiba)
Welcome to Zombie World!
Petty Romance (Jje-jje-han Ro-maen-seu)
A comic artist teams with an unlikely writer to try for lucrative adult comic prize, bringing out their respective wildest fantasies.
Choy Lee Fut (Cai Li Fo)
Two best friends head from Europe to China to learn Choy Lee Fut and get more than they bargained for.
Yazkuza Weapon (Gokudo heiki)
Part man, part machine, ALL Yakuza.
Childs Eye (Tung Ngaan)
Six stranded tourists are caught up in a haunted Bangkok guesthouse.
Red Light Revolution
China’s first SX Shop comedy!
Karate Girl (K.G.)
Two sisters from a Karate dynasty, separated when young, now find themselves on opposing sides.
Gallants (Da Lui Toi)
From zero to hero, via old skool kung-fu.
Milocrorze, A Love Story (Mirokuroze)
Hyper colourful multi-segmented film about obsessive love.
The event will include Q&As with directors and actors, plus masterclasses and an official party.
For more information on the event, visit the festival’s official website by clicking here.
