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Film: The Bothersome Man
Release date: 28th January 2008
Certificate: 15
Running time: 95 mins
Director: Jens Lien
Starring: Trond Fausa Aurvaag, Petronella Barker, Per Schaaning, Birgitte Larsen, Johannes Joner
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy
Studio: Drakes Avenue
Format: DVD
Country: Norway/Iceland
Urban dystopia has been a popular theme for filmmakers over the years. The Bothersome Man takes that tried, tested and clichéd formula and breathes new life into it by combining Orwellian menace with black humour - and more than a touch of Groundhog Day.
Following his apparent suicide, Andreas (Trond Fausa Aurvaag) arrives in a nameless Scandinavian city where he is employed, provided with an apartment and falls effortlessly into a relationship. Unsurprisingly, he soon realises that something is amiss: life is too easy, food is tasteless, and children are conspicuous by their absence. Worse still, booze no longer gets people drunk.
Increasingly anxious, Andreas attempts to inject some excitement into his life by embarking on an affair, before realising that his only option is to escape the homogeneity of the city. Predictably, his efforts are thwarted and hope seems lost – until he befriends Hugo (Per Schaaning). Secreted in Hugo’s cellar is a crack in the wall from which beautiful smells and music are emitted – could this be the escape route Andreas is looking for?
The film opens in a railway station with a scene of the least romantic kissing ever committed to celluloid. It’s distinctly uncomfortable watching a male and female character joylessly chewing each other’s mouths off as the sounds of their lip-smacking are amplified. So uncomfortable, in fact, that Andreas – the tension building on his face – takes the only way out. From the platform, he throws himself under the wheels of an oncoming train. It’s testament to how effective the scene is that his extreme actions seem entirely appropriate.
The film is ambiguous about exactly where Andreas wakes up. Clearly, he ought to be dead. But following a silent bus ride, and a half-hearted welcoming committee, he finds himself in an apartment which apparently belongs to him. Utterly impersonal and decorated in muted colours, it sets the tone for the rest of the unnamed city in which he finds himself. After reporting to an equally nondescript office block, he is given a vague job description, a functional office, and left to get on with it.
So, where has our protagonist found himself? There is a certain Ikea-style blandness and coolness which marks the city out as Scandinavian, but that remains the only certainty. There’s easily enough evidence to suggest that Andreas is in heaven – life is simple, everyone is provided for, and everyone has a purpose. But by the same token, a world where everything is bland and ‘pre-packaged’, detached and emotionless could well be interpreted as hell. Maybe he’s in purgatory? Or perhaps the film is an attack on modern, homogenous living? It’s a strength that events can be interpreted on so many levels so effectively.
It requires an excellent performance from Trond Fausa Aurvag to carry such ambiguity so convincingly - and he really delivers. It’s a role which requires a range of acting talents and Aurvag pulls off slapstick, hangdog, understatement and wild-eyed delight with aplomb. He carries the movie from start to finish: there’s barely a moment without his enigmatic presence.
A number of scenes are key to establishing the other-worldliness of The Bothersome Man, all of which are stylishly underplayed. The first of these occurs as suspicions begin to grow in Andreas’ mind that things are not as they seem. He subsequently severs one of his own fingers in a paper-cutting machine. Spouting blood, his colleagues seem oblivious to the harm he’s done himself – despite the fact that the scarlet blood seeping from his wound is the most colourful thing in their office.
A wonderfully matter-of-fact montage explains the story of how Andreas comes to be in a serious relationship with a woman he barely knows. Over the course of a meal in a restaurant, he flirts clumsily. This leads to a series of short scenes of perfunctory sex and dull interior décor, which perfectly illustrate the alarming ease with which such events occur in the narrative.
Thoroughly disenchanted with his ‘off-the-shelf’ life, Andreas again seeks the answer in suicide. In a revisiting of the opening scene, we again see torturous kissing and a man throwing himself in front of an oncoming train. Only this time it makes more sense – and carries an air of déjà vu. How Andreas survives this attempt is more clear cut – although no more explicable.
Perhaps liberated (or reawakened), Andreas becomes determined to get to the bottom of his predicament. His focus becomes the mysterious Hugo – a man who wears black and white shoes, grumbles vociferously whilst defecating, and lives in a cave-like cellar adorned with a sea of light bulbs. It’s a beautifully understated set, and it becomes key to the denouement of the film, as Andreas and Hugo attempt to unravel the mystery which lurks behind the magical (and peculiarly vaginal looking) crack in the basement. Here, the film seems ever more absurdist (and calls to mind Being John Malkovich) as it speeds towards its inevitable conclusion.
The Bothersome Man is an excellent film. The visuals are stylish, the performances assured and the direction skilful. It draws the viewer into a world which is indefinably strange yet utterly compelling. It adds a new twist to an old and familiar story, weaving elements familiar to the audience with imaginative new ideas to create a film worthy of the many awards it has garnered - and worthy of wider notice than it has received. RW
Film: Spirited Away
Release date: 29th March 2004
Certificate: PG
Running time: 116 mins
Director: Hayao Miyazaki
Starring: Rumi Hîragi, Miyu Irino, Mari Natsuki, Takashi Naitô, Yasuko Sawaguchi
Genre: Anime
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Studio Ghibli is a name to be reckoned with in animation. Their back catalogue is sizeable, from 1984 up until the present day it numbers seventeen films without including shorts and museum releases. The Japanese animation studio has attained a high standard of excellence and awards throughout its productions - Spirited Away is no exception. It is a film that reveals at its heart a message that love can be stronger than magic.
Chihiro is a 10-year-old girl, moving to a new home with her parents, looking sadly on a bunch of flowers given to her by the friends she is leaving. On their journey, they encounter a long tunnel, at the end of which is a mysterious town. As events unfold, the mysterious town is not all that it seems. Whilst looking around, her parents are turned into pigs after gorging themselves on the available food which has appeared despite Chihiro’s warnings.
Her situation finds her alone in the town, trapped in a spirit world with darkness approaching. A young boy Haku comes to her aid, sneaking her into the large bathhouse for spirits and gods, telling her that if she is willing to make herself useful the witch Yubaba will have to tolerate her. He takes her down to the furnaces to the six armed Kijami to work. As Chihiro goes on to explore upstairs, following a young woman she is curious about, she finds work on the upper levels preparing the baths for the customers.
During this employment, where Yubaba works her staff hard through the night, Chihiro, with Haku’s help, must somehow work out where her parents are, and how to turn them back from the pigs they have become - a somewhat notable aside from Miyazaki on capitalism.
Magic and intrigue conspire to make sure that Chihiro is always tested. In a world she is unfamiliar with, Chihiro’s core values are on trial…
Ghibli’s animation is always breathtaking, and this is no exception. The clear, identifiable style of the animation studio means that the viewer is able to tell its pedigree from the outset. To top it off, it is written and directed by Miyazaki after his pseudo retirement.
The impending sense of loneliness, which comes from a little girl alone and forced to try and survive, is filled with the sort of tenderness and stillness not often found in animation. One particularly notable scene comes from the coal creatures and Kijami. An exhausted Chihiro comes to sleep in the boiler room, where she feels comfortable, deep in the furnaces of Yubaba’s bathhouse. The six armed Kijami, in a moment of kindness, place a blanket over her, and the coal creatures remove her shoes to make her more comfortable. Even though this is such a short moment in the film, it encapsulates so much of the tenderness that the audience feels toward the character. Chihiro is in a strange land and is now having to work to stay safe. The need to feel the soothing sense of familiarity - however odd - is clearly pertinent for her.
An underlying message becomes clear as the film progresses - like many of the Ghibli films, and is encapsulated by the state of the land Yubaba inhabits. Miyazaki seems to be making a comment on pollution and the global warming occurring in the world. The customer at the bathhouse, which turns out to be a river spirit - not the stink demon they had envisaged - has become so laden with filth and garbage from river pollution that he has become unrecognisable. The cleansing process of Chihiro, removing the thorn stuck in his side, becomes somewhat illustrative of the pain and peril of the natural resources of the earth. This is shown again with the water overlapping onto the train track which leaves the bathhouse. It is inferred that much has been submerged; the train no longer comes back.
Even though there is the ability to read into the narrative issues of environmental destruction, at its heart, the film is a touching tale of a little girl trying to survive in an unfamiliar world, and finding that kindness, love and truth are universally held in high esteem. The innocence of Chihiro and the goodness and compassion which she tries to uphold sees the character able to deal with everything the spirit world throws at her.
The animation is stunning, and the visual landscape created is absolutely wondrous. For an audience who are used to animated films saturating the market with 3D and other trends, Spirited Away provides a burst of freshness. The film has so many things happening at once that it keeps the audience fully engaged in the world it has created. From thunderously large babies who must be appeased, faceless spirits and dangerous paper birds, Spirited Away is one of the most creative pieces of animation around, and richly deserving of the many awards it has acquired.
Ghibli have provided what is arguably one of their best films to date. This is a classic which seems to force Pixar and Disney’s fare to take a step back. It’s a great movie to introduce newcomers to the world of Ghibli, and an absolute essential in any film collection. DHA
Film: Metropolis
Release date: 22nd November 2010
Certificate: PG
Running time: 150 mins
Director: Fritz Lang
Starring: Alfred Abel, Gustav Fröhlich, Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Fritz Rasp, Theodor Loos
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama/Romance/Sci-Fi/Thriller
Studio: Eureka!
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Germany
Considered by many for over eighty years to be the Holy Grail of lost films, the missing 25-minutes of the original version of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis has finally been found. The Austrian-born director’s 1927 tour de force has been fully restored and can now be seen in all its retro-style glory, just as Lang originally intended.
Metropolis is set in a futuristic city and tells the story of a down-trodden work-force being controlled by an industrial magnate called Joh Fredersen (Alfred Abel). The workers live and toil underground in harsh conditions, whilst the privileged high castes enjoy a luxurious life in the city above.
Fredersen’s cosseted son, Freder (Gustav Frolich), falls in love with the righteous Maria (Brigitte Helm) after she visits the Eternal Gardens with a group of children from the Lower City. Freder goes looking for the girl and is soon exposed to the horrendous state of affairs the workers are made to endure, and takes the place of a labourer who works a ten-hour shift working the hands of a giant clock machine.
Learning that Rotwang (Rudolf Klein-Rogge) has created a female robot as a replacement to their mutual lost lover Hel, Fredersen instructs the mad inventor to transform her into an evil double of Maria, whom Fredersen now sees as a threat, as she prophesises the coming of a ‘Mediator’ who will liberate the oppressed workers and their children, and to let her loose in the underworld…
The newly found footage, which was discovered in 2008 in Buenos Aires, now gives merit to the subplots that are woven into the script, written by Lang and his then-wife Thea Von Harbou, such as the rivalry between Rotwang and Fredersen over their past shared love for Hel, who died giving birth to her son Freder. It also restores the importance of the character Der Schmale (Fritz Rasp), the sinister assistant to Fredersen, whose limited scenes in the re-edited version made him appear insignificant.
With a quarter of the film reinstated, Metropolis can be seen as an epic film of many battles - religion against science, man against machine, liberation against oppression, and good against evil – and poses many questions, such as should man play at being God? Nowhere in the film is this question more apparent than in the scene where Rotwang transforms his metallic creation into the likeness of Maria, a scene that could have taken reference from the biblical story of Creation: “Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness, and let them rule over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” However, once Rotwang starts to play God, all hell breaks loose and results in a ‘big flood’.
The film is rife with religious symbolism, such as the Star of David located on the wall behind the seated robot as it is being transformed into the likeness of Maria; the Tower of Babel where Fredersen rules over the workers of the underworld; the prophecy of an apocalypse made by a monk during a sermon; the seven deadly sins sequence; and, most noticeably, the character of Maria who represents angelic and compassionate qualities resembling those of the Virgin Mary.
The film also oozes eroticism - the robot’s hour-glass figure and graceful strut resembles that of a catwalk model; and Maria’s sexual magnetism and seductive prowess over the powerless hot-blooded men of the Eternal Garden who are left mesmerised by her hypnotic sensual dance performance.
Its magnificent visuals consisting of striking towering city blocks, inspired by the skyscrapers of New York, which he witnessed during his trip to America in 1924, still captivates film-lovers to this day. It has been reported that Lang was never satisfied with the filming of Metropolis unless he had three good takes of every shot, leading to extreme rehearsals and exhaustion within the actors. Although she was a newcomer to the acting world, Helm proved her worth by playing both the empathetic Maria and the seductive Maria convincingly. But she admitted at the time that the water sequences for the flooding scenes were a strain on her health, as was the wearing of the robot suit. Clamped in her wooden armament, made from malleable wood material which had just appeared on the market, Helm suffered from lack of air due to the shot taking so long.
Shortly after its premier, the film, which ran at a little under two-and-a-half hours, was considered far too long for American audiences and thus was savagely re-edited, much to Lang’s disgust, resulting in the storyline making little sense at all. The film was a major flop for the studio, and being the most expensive film ever made, at that time, it almost brought UFA to its knees. However, the film has built up a cult following over the years, and has gained the respect it so rightly deserves. And more than eighty years after its original release, Metropolis continues to mesmerise audiences and be an influence on contemporary filmmaking, a testament to Lang’s genius as a visionary.
The words groundbreaking, timeless, classic and masterpiece are shamelessly over-used in film critique, making them almost clichés. But these are words that accurately describe this work of cinematic art. There’s no denying, especially now that it can be seen in its entirety, as Lang intended, that Metropolis is the most important film of its genre, and undoubtedly one of the greatest films ever made. SLP
Film: All About My Mother
Release date: 28th February 2000
Certificate: 15
Running time: 97 mins
Director: Pedro Almodóvar
Starring: Cecilia Roth, Marisa Paredes, Candela Peña, Antonia San Juan, Penélope Cruz
Genre: Drama
Studio: Pathe
Format: DVD
Country: Spain/France
Winner of the 1999 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, All About My Mother is considered to be Spanish director Pedro Almodovar’s best work. It is a celebration of all that is taboo, an inversion of ‘normality’ handled with his usual compassion for all those who tread the borders of acceptable society. During the ‘90s, he was one of Spain’s best-known filmmakers and he remains one of their most loved. He is also credited with introducing international audiences to such household names as Antonio Banderas and Penelope Cruz.
The film opens with Manuela, a single mother who works full time as a Transplant Coordinator to support her son, Esteban. She has left her own dreams of becoming an actress behind to feed his artistic aspiration of becoming a writer. Their relationship is close and nourishing; they share the same interests and like the same films. As parent child relationships go, it is almost perfect.
While watching the movie All About Eve one quiet evening, Esteban starts penning what he jokes will be his future Pulitzer Prize winner, All About My Mother, and here, in his omission, lies hidden the only darkness in their happy world - the lack of a father.
On his seventeenth birthday, Manuela finally decides that her son is old enough to hear the truth, and as they wait in the rain after a showing of Streetcar Named Desire, she tells him as much. Placated, he runs out to get an autograph from the shows star, Huma Roja, but, in his rush, he fails to notice a car speeding towards him. Fate has its way, and steals Esteban away from his mother when he is still little more than a child. The only way that Manuela can think to carry on with her life is to search for the boy’s father and tell him that he had a son, and that his son is dead.
Manuela travels from Madrid to Barcelona and begins the complicated process of tracking down her ex-husband Lola, a drug using transsexual prostitute…
All About My Mother is its own intertext, and the intermingling of art and life is a common theme throughout. The film appears self-consciously aware that there are no new stories to tell, only new ways in which to express them. If it were not for Almodovar’s unusual choice of characters, the plot alone may have appeared re-hashed. That is not to say that the characters were chosen for this reason alone, nor that they appear token or stereotypical, instead their existence is normalised by the well-worn circumstances in which they find themselves.
This is reflected in the film’s cinematography. During Manuela’s first night in Barcelona, she takes a taxi to ‘The Field’ to look for Lola. This innocently named place is a patch of scrubland on the outskirts of town where prostitutes tout for trade. As they drive off, unsuccessful, two women are seen crouched down to the left of the car playing pat-a-cake - it is as fantastically mundane as it is explicit.
The lighting is also used notably, and to great effect, in expressing character. Whenever Huma, the actress from Streetcar, is present, the scene takes on a theatrical look, lit as if it were a stage; often menacing and mysterious, moving towards lighter spectrums as her character becomes more fulfilled.
Life is seen as a series of premonitions. All the major action in the film is foretold; before Esteban dies and Manuela has to donate his organs, he has already been to the hospital she works in to watch her role-play the event as part of staff training. Again, when she plays the part of Stella in Streetcar, having befriended Huma, she knows the lines because she originally learnt them when she played the part in an amateur production, during which she met Lola for the first time.
And it is relationships that are central to this film, especially those between women, or people who have chosen to live their lives as women. When Manuela reaches Barcelona, she discovers Agrado, a woman born a man who has kept her male genitalia as it helps her find work as a prostitute. She is Manuela’s umbilical cord to the past, yet together they help each other move towards the future.
All About My Mother still stands out as unusually accepting in its portrayal of diverse sexualities, and is refreshingly real compared to its overtly emotional Hollywood counterparts. It is a film that applauds people’s unique circumstances and life choices. The only things that are truly frowned upon are judgement and conformity, and although heavy drug use and prostitution should in no way be encouraged, in many ways it would not be the worst piece of art for life to imitate.
Almodovar has successfully created a drama of misfits without reducing his characters to clichés. What comes across most clearly is the joy of being different, if you can accept yourself and revel in your individuality then you can make, and even become, beautiful art. EM
Film: A Prophet
Release date: 7th June 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 149 mins
Director: Jacques Audiard
Starring: Tahar Rahim, Niels Arestrup, Adel Bencherif, Hichem Yacoubi, Reda Kateb
Genre: Crime/Drama/Thriller/Action
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France/Italy
This release brought about the return of the celebrated Jacques Audiard to award-winning form. Following the success of 2005’s The Beat That Skipped My Heart, Audiard was again given the nod by BAFTA, this after recognition at Cannes. Delving into a genre that has been ever present in modern cinema, how has A Prophet emerged as such a recognised crime classic amongst its contemporaries?
The film spans the six-year prison sentence of 19-year-old degenerate Malik El Djebena. Brecourt is a notorious hellhole where inmates rely on their connections to protect them against their ever present violent way of life. Malik’s North African descent places him bang in the middle of an ethnically split prison run by Corsicans and heavily inhabited by Arabs. Despite his illiteracy and minimal prospects, he concentrates on his future release and is a loner within the prison walls.
After Malik is forced to do a favour for prison ‘fat cat’ Cesar, his prison education begins, and he is taken under the wing of the Corsicans sitting on top of the prison pile. The years pass as Malik climbs the institutional ladder under the wing of the ruthless Cesar; he deals in drugs, takes part in hostage exchanges, and even facilitates assassinations. Malik’s cooperation has changed to enthusiasm as he begins to develop the know how to transcend his status as a petty errand boy.
Using his newly found status, and with connections that stretch outside the prison walls, Malik sets out to go in to business for himself. He is not just working to leave the shadow of Cesar and his crew but to survive his sentence...
The most forceful device of Audiard’s film is the realism he installs from the get go. The fear and bursts of ultra-violence go hand in hand with the drab solitude and boredom of prison life. There is an ever present sense of the length of Malik’s sentence, as the hours and days pass we see him in his cell, enduring mindless jobs, bored in classes and alone in the yard. The contrast of action and daily grind makes for engrossingly uneasy watching as we feel Malik’s trepidation in such unpredictable surroundings.
Malik’s journey is in no way a typical rise in the crime world. From the moment we see him, he is the picture of an awkward teenage troublemaker; irritable, aggressive and irreconcilable. For him, this is not about moral discovery or redemption as genre character typing may dictate. He has no morality and he is not fighting for redemption, the only thing he cares about is finishing his time in one piece.
Such moral inclination is demonstrated in the film’s most effectively violent scenes, as Malik is forced into his first job for the Corsicans, a hit on potential rat Reyab. The blood spilling tussle is hard to watch but impossible to turn away from as Malik frightfully botches the planned hit - the realism of the film extends to its many layers and this sets an ominous tone for the two hours ahead. If visions of Reyab’s ghost are appealing to Malik’s guilt or integrity, he dismisses them with his typical nonchalance - he is doing what needs to be done.
Rahim Tahar’s hard-faced performance sees him emerge from this film as a face to watch but he’s not the only actor to make an impression. Niels Arestup plays the part of Cesar Luciani with terrifying effect. He is a chain smoking, vicious and erratic mob boss whose presence in the film is consistently menacing and never trustworthy. If classics such as Goodfellas showed off camaraderie between criminals, A Prophet focuses on a shifting of allegiances and self-preservation that is just as absorbing. Do not expect to see a father like mentor in Arestup’s character, he rules with a bulldoggish resolve and fear. The altercations between Cesar and Malik show how Audiard is able to shift tone to the greatest effect.
A lack of empathy set about by Malik does not derive from the pleasure of seeing him grow and succeed. He juggles with the loyalties of the Corsicans and the Arabs with a newly found cunning and under the influence of those who try to control him. His rise comments heavily on the influence of incarceration, starting as a boy with nothing to offer on the outside Malik is honed with the skills to succeed on the inside - his transformation shows the value (or danger) of a prison upbringing. Malik is a product of his environment.
The violence is harrowing and provides some of the most unforgettable images ever seen in prison drama. That said, A Prophet succeeds where so many have failed by not making this the sole focus of the picture. Audiard achieves a much more cerebral approach to the criminal world; a vision of prison being that is intensely believable. Oscar buzz and awards galore aside this is a film that deserves your attention. A true benchmark in a done-to-death genre. LW
Film: Nausicaä Of The Valley Of The Wind
Release date: 18th October 2010
Certificate: PG
Running time: 116 mins
Director: Hayao Miyazaki
Starring: Mahito Tsujimura, Hisako Kyoda, Goro Naya, Kohei Miyauchi, Minoru Yada
Genre: Anime
Studio: Optimum
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Japan
Nausicaä Of The Valley Of The Wind marks the first of many collaborations between director Hayao Miyazaki and producer Toshio Suzuki, resulting in the creation of the legendary Studio Ghibli. Grossing ¥740 million (approximately £5.7 million) and endorsed by the World Wildlife Fund for its strong environmental message, Nausicaä forms the basis of the undeniable majesty of the subsequent Studio Ghibli output, and appears on Blu-ray for the first time.
Set a thousand years after the Seven Days of Fire, the world lies in tatters, smothered by an ever-growing Toxic Jungle that threatens the small pockets of civilization that remains.
One of these safe havens is the Valley of the Wind, protected by its princess, Nausicaä. A skilled, but peace-loving warrior, Nausicaä possesses a unique gift; the ability to placate the fearsome insect creatures that occupy the ever growing Toxic Jungle. Her expeditions into the jungle to try and find non-toxic life are interrupted by the crash landing of a huge airship in the Valley of the Wind.
Onboard, a dying hostage reveals herself to be the princess of the town Pejite, informing Nausicaä to quickly destroy the ships cargo. Onboard is the embryonic Giant Warrior, a gargantuan creature manipulated as a weapon during the war. The weapon has been stolen from Pejite by the people of Tolmekian, a nearby settlement, who have invaded the valley to steal back the warrior, eventually taking Nausicaä hostage.
After the transportation ships are destroyed, Nausicaä encounters the dying princess’ twin brother Asbel. They fight together in an attempt regain control of the Giant Warrior and prevent the two warring nations from self-combusting, destroying each other and their planet…
The strongest aspect of Nausicaä Of The Valley Of The Wind is its engrossing story. The film manages to balance a clear environmental message with a socio-political morality tale that’s heavy-handed in its approach as Miyazaki makes his point. While occasionally confusing, the epic nature of the narrative is nonetheless entirely engrossing. The environmental message of the film is dealt with expertly, with no clear cut boundaries between good vs. evil, or destruction vs. creation. The antagonists are not evil; they merely have their own idea of what is right, and what is best for their civilisation. Despite the potential weight of the themes, it is just as easy to sit back and enjoy the spectacle as a family sci-fi/adventure without pondering the film’s message too much.
The animation itself is simply stunning, combining strong human character design with unforgettable creatures, particularly in the scene featuring the Giant Warrior as he battles the insect hordes. Animated by the now legendary Hideaki Anno, the mud-like textures and liquid effect of the beast as it rolls forward amidst a sea of insect creatures is a standout moment. So too is the creature design in general, giving the insect inhabitants of the Toxic Jungle an otherworldly quality while remaining recognisable to the viewer. The action scenes are plentiful and well executed, particularly those involving Nausicaä’s jet glider. One particular moment exemplifies the painstaking attention to detail of the animation, as Nausicaä disembarks from the glider and catches her foot it the harness strap, stumbling slightly before continuing on. It is undoubtedly a minor observation, and could be easily ignored or considered a goof in a live action film. However, in this instance, it shows a level of commitment and knowing playfulness seldom seen in animation.
The Blu-ray transfer shows the film as it was undoubtedly intended, with crystal clear images and vibrant, bright colouring. The sound design is also excellent, although the music leaves a little to be desired. Unquestionably ‘80s, the attention is occasionally diverted away from the action and onto the music, as the low-tech synth tunes hammer away in the background. This dates an otherwise timeless film, and belies the natural, rural setting and key themes of the production. This feeling of distraction is exacerbated by the few occasions where an orchestral score is used, as it works so much better, and could have added to the emotional core of the film.
The film that started an international phenomenon is only improved by a crystal clear Blu-ray transfer. This undeniably classic example of Japanese animation fuses a strong message with sumptuous animation to create an influential piece that ranks with the best Studio Ghibli has to offer. RB
Film: The Guillermo Del Toro Collection
Release date: 12th March 2007
Certificate: 18
Running time: 310 mins
Director: Guillermo Del Toro
Starring: Federico Luppi, Ron Perlman, Marisa Paredes, Eduardo Noriega, Ivana Baquero
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Horror/Mystery/Thriller/War
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Mexico/Spain/USA
Guillermo Del Toro is easily one of the most imaginative, original and instantly recognisable directors working today. From his humble beginnings as an independent filmmaker, the Mexican has produced numerous classic films, and in recent years made the move to mainstream Hollywood. Always present in his work is a rich and iconic visual sensibility, relatable and sympathetic monsters and freaks, and frequent references to fairytale, folklore and religion.
Cronos (1994)
When Jesús Gris (Federico Luppi), an elderly antiques dealer, comes into possession of an ancient device in the form of a clockwork beetle, he is unwittingly transformed into a vampire as the device activates and stings him. He becomes more youthful, and far stronger, but develops an overpowering urge to consume blood. He is hunted by a dying millionaire and his nephew (Claudio Brook and Ron Perlman, respectively) for knowledge of the device and its promise of eternal life…
Cronos foreshadows many aspects of Del Toro’s career: it features a clockwork device in the shape of a scarab beetle (both insects and clockwork mechanisms have become instantly recognisable Del Toro visual motifs) and the film also features soon-to become-regular collaborators Federico Luppi and Ron Pearlman (the former would appear in The Devil’s Backbone and Pan’s Labyrinth, the latter in the Hellboy films and Blade II).
The film has some undeniably memorable scenes, including Gris’ first experience of a vampire’s need for blood (he laps it off a bathroom floor) and his resurrection in a morgue moments before cremation. The film does, however, tend to drag a little (especially the lengthy prologue and build up to Gris’ initial transformation) – despite only being 94 minutes, it can seem longer.
While it’s very stylistically striking, and has some iconic scenes, Del Toro’s debut is easily the weakest of his Spanish-language films. Several ideas don’t quite work and the story loses its energy on occassions. However, Cronos is a perfectly respectable first film all the same, and Del Toro was just finding his feet after all. Even here you can find evidence of his future brilliance.
Del Toro’s big screen debut sets the tone for the rest of his career – it’s dark, imaginative and fun. After his career began in TV and short film production, Cronos is certainly a daring and exciting big-screen debut.
The Devil’s Backbone (2001)
Far more than the standard ghost story, The Devil’s Backbone is a very tense and extremely emotional experience. It’s effectively atmospheric and creepy (it’s set in a rundown and isolated orphanage during the Spanish Civil War) and the cast all manage to get across the tragedy and horror of the events that unfold.
When young Carlos (Fernando Tielve) arrives at a remote orphanage in the final stages of the Spanish Civil War, it is immediately apparent that all is not well. There is an unexploded bomb stuck in the ground outside, sinister relationships between the orphanage’s staff and children, and the ghost of a young boy wandering the corridors. What dark secrets will Carlos stumble upon?
You have all the standard scares you’d expect in any horror film, but these are contrasted by tensely drawn out scenes - and the ghost itself, Santi (Junio Valverde), is brilliantly realised, managing to evoke the right mix of fear and sympathy from an audience.
The cast all bring a little something extra to their roles, and this helps them become believable characters, from Carlos’ inherent goodness and need to find the truth to the tragically lonely headmistress Carmen (Marisa Paredes), the kind and deeply philosophical Dr Casares (Federico Luppi), the emotionally unstable and threatening caretaker Jacinto (Eduardo Noriega) and the emotionally repressed bully Jaime (Íñigo Garcés).
“What is a ghost? A tragedy condemned to repeat itself time and again? An instant of pain, perhaps. Something dead which still seems to be alive. An emotion suspended in time. Like a blurred photograph. Like an insect trapped in amber.” This opening question urges us to look past what scares us, and conquer our fears. It fits in with Del Toro’s usual ethos - that his monsters are mostly sympathetic creatures, and should not be taken at face value, as simply ‘evil’.
The Devil’s Backbone is well written, well acted and extremely scary. Del Toro makes use of just enough horror clichés whilst adding his own take on the genre. It further cements his position as an extremely original and rewarding director to take an interest in.
Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
Pan’s Labyrinth is a masterpiece of fairytale storytelling, effortlessly blending the real world with fantasy. Del Toro returned to his roots after a few years in Hollywood, crafting a believable fable full to the brim with emotion.
Set in fascist Spain in 1944, a young girl, Ofelia (Ivana Baquero), is sent with her pregnant mother to live in the care of her stepfather Vidal (Sergi López), a captain in General Franco’s military who is fighting guerrilla rebels.
Ofelia loves to read and has a vivid imagination, and she frequently escapes the clutches of her brutal stepfather to explore her new surroundings. One such escapade leads to the discovery an ancient labyrinth within which she meets a mysterious faun who promises her eternal life if she completes three tasks for him…
Pan’s Labyrinth is a film of contrasts – we are shown the horrific brutalities of war one moment and truly beautiful fantasies the next. One minute we see guerrilla rebels being brutally tortured by Vidal, the next Ofelia is being guided down ancient corridors by fairies. We see these worlds through the eyes of Ofelia, through the eyes of an imaginative 12-year-old –the distinctions between fantasy and reality are not yet clearly defined. The director can really go to town with his distinct visual flair in this film – everything is beautifully designed, from the labyrinth itself to the ancient faun, the fairies and the horrifying array of creatures Ofelia has to face.
The cast are of the highest calibre. Ivana Baquero makes Ofelia a believable heroine, full of wonder and imagination, and ultimately guided by her need to do the right thing. Sergi López makes Vidal a truly despicable villain and Maribel Verdú plays Mercedes, Vidal’s housekeeper and secretly a mole for the guerrilla rebels with a dignified defiance. We should, of course, not overlook Doug Jones, an often unsung hero of film. Because of his highly physical acting style and slight frame, he more often than not performs under heavy makeup and/or prosthetics. In Pan’s, Jones plays the Faun and the Pale Man (the grotesque, skinny creature who wears his eyes in his hands in the dinner table scene) – he is responsible for the portrayal of both of the most memorable creatures in the film!
Pan’s Labyrinth is not only visually stunning, but can rely on the strengths of every single cast member to make fantasy believable. The plot is emotionally intense, gripping and tragic, and Javier Nevarrete’s haunting yet beautiful score effortlessly carries and reinforces the story. Guillermo Del Toro continues to prove that not only is he a master of visuals, but of character as well.
Guillermo Del Toro’s films have steadily improved over the years. From a daring but unremarkable debut with Cronos to the chilling and far more entertaining The Devil’s Backbone, and then the pinnacle of his creativity, Pan’s Labyrinth. These films are proof that Guillermo Del Toro has demonstrated more imagination, originality and technical ability in two decades than many Hollywood directors demonstrate in their entire careers. SSP
Film: The First Movie
Running time: 76 mins
Director: Mark Cousins
Genre: Documentary
Country: UK/Canada
In October 2010, filmmaker Mark Cousins took his documentary The First Movie on a tour of Picturehouse cinemas in the UK.
As the name might suggest, The First Movie is filmmaker Mark Cousins’ first foray into directing a full-length feature. Having made his name as a critic, writer and presenter, he has struck out into the world of documentary making and production alongside luminaries such as Tilda Swinton, Robert Carlyle and Irvine Welsh. Could his attempt to capture childhood innocence in the Middle East live up to expectation?
The village of Goptapa lies eighty miles from the Iranian border in Iraqi Kurdistan. Here, the adults run their small farms, pick crops and teach in the new village school. The majority of the 700 inhabitants live in mud-constructed buildings around which chickens, geese and cows freely wander. The surrounding countryside features river valleys, pomegranate groves and lush green fields where livestock graze.
It’s a world away from the Iraq we see on the news. There are no soldiers, no armoured vehicles, no artillery shells or explosions. But Goptapa has suffered at the hands of Saddam Hussein’s regime – the government gassed the village in 1988 killing many of the residents.
A whole generation of children have been born into Goptapa since the massacre, and it is here where Cousins focuses his camera. Erecting a makeshift cinema in the village, the power of cinema is described, explored and illustrated by both Cousins and the children themselves as they are bequeathed with high-definition digital cameras, and given the freedom to produce their very own first movies…
Cousins is an utterly charming presence throughout. Although rarely seen in front of the camera, his lyrical voiceover knits together the action wonderfully. Lilting and mellifluous, his gentle Northern Irish accent describes and explains the power of film in his childhood, tying his project to the reality of growing up during the troubles in Belfast. It’s easy to see why he would want to strip away the dramas and the troubles of conflict, focusing instead on the humanity of the place. Indeed, the fact that Goptapa is in Iraq is not even mentioned until the film is seventy minutes old.
One brief montage of clips speaks volumes about the power of both cinema and children’s imaginations: a series of moving images appears on the screen as Cousins speculates as to how they could be interpreted by the kids. Thus, a digger becomes a dinosaur: something prosaic becomes something magical. It’s a distinction which is at the heart of the film. In a similar vein, the production of half a dozen balloons seems emblematic of something bigger or more important – that so many children can derive so much pleasure from something we take for granted is humbling, and provides some wonderfully colourful and joyous scenes.
The cinema which is constructed to show the films might be the greatest theatrical venue of all time. Stitched together from a number of bed sheets and stretched over a frame, the screen is simplicity itself. In the background, vibrant pink and gold cloth flutters in the breeze as plastic chairs are arranged in the ‘auditorium’. It speaks volumes about the power of cinema that the wordless construction of such a simple space can invoke such emotion in an audience. The screenings themselves offer further magic. Having never seen a film before, the excitement of the kids is palpable as they cheer, clap and attempt to grab at images on the screen during performances of ET, The Red Balloon and others.
In the aftermath, a colourful collection of children are lined up against a wall as they are quizzed on the kind of films they’d like to make. It’s almost reassuring that these kids from rural Iraq are as imaginatively puerile and silly as any kids you’d find in any developed country. As they grab their crotches, show off and throw out ideas about dogs eating donkeys, it doesn’t matter a jot where they are from. Like many of the scenes in the film, it’s beautifully shot. The camera lingers just long enough on each subject, moving up and down the line to capture the reactions to what is being said by the attention-grabbers at the forefront of the conversation, and the questions posed are aimed at eliciting honest responses – Cousins manages to leave any pre-conceptions about the kids aside.
What they produce is fantastic. A close-up of a goldfish tank is accompanied by a magical voiceover; a group of girls sing for the camera; a long single take sees a young boy confiding his thoughts in the mud. And for almost the first time, adults are present in Goptapa. The film was made during Ramadan, and with many of the grown-ups fasting, the children almost had the town to themselves. But, with cameras in hand, access was granted to the areas Cousins had failed to get – not least when one amateur filmmaker gets footage of his friends giggling in the back of the mosque as the men of the village pray.
The most moving footage in the film was produced by the children. Static camera shots of long, emotional monologues reveal the horrors which occurred as the 1988 massacre swept through the village. As an elderly lady recalls the events, you cannot help but admire the bravery of both the subject and the camera-operator. The story itself is a difficult one to tell, but as she breaks down, becomes angry and cries, the child with the camera waits, lingers and ekes still more drama from the situation. It would be a powerful scene in the hands of someone infinitely more experienced: perversely, lack of experience makes it more powerful still.
The soundtrack is fantastically judged, adding elegance to the sumptuous images which describe the action. It’s also a good match for the quality of Cousins’ eloquent narrative. The only time this changes is as the children’s films are shown – at this point, Kurdish music becomes an entirely appropriate accompaniment.
Mark Cousins has produced an excellent documentary, which avoids political rhetoric or cheap stunts to make its point. Allowing his subjects to express themselves, verbally and visually, he has given voice to the power of imagination, the resilience of the human spirit, and the educational and exhilarating nature of cinema. His non-judgmental, inclusive style, easy demeanour and technical prowess have ensured that this is a production which engages, informs and stirs in equal measures. A wonderful film. RW
Film: Versus
Release date: 30th June 2003
Certificate: 18
Running time: 120 mins
Director: Ryûhei Kitamura
Starring: Tak Sakaguchi, Hideo Sakaki, Chieko Misaka, Kenji Matsuda, Yuichiro Arai
Genre: Action/Comedy/Fantasy/Horror
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: USA/Japan
Versus was the film that made the world sit up and take a serious look at Japanese director Ryuhei Kitamura. Now over ten years later, having had several re-releases with extra footage and even a US remake supposedly due for a 2010 release, is Versus still the internationally acclaimed gem that it would appear to be?
The opening scrawl explains that there are 666 portals on earth leading to the afterlife, one of which is found in Japan, and is called the ‘forest of resurrection’. The film then jumps to the present day, where Prisoner KSC2–303 and a fellow prisoner meet with a gang of Yakuza mobsters in the forest, after escaping police custody.
Following a disagreement, KSC2-303 flees the Yakuza with a mysterious woman that the mobsters had kidnapped. The gangsters run deep into the forest after the two of them but discover that the dead bodies of people they have killed and buried in the forest are coming back to life as zombies. The gang then furiously fight off the zombified hordes approaching them; losing most of their numbers in the onslaught.
KSC2-303 meanwhile has started to forget details of his life, and begins to experience flashbacks of events he hasn’t knowingly experienced. Matters become clear as he meets face to face with a mysterious man. This man turns out to be an arch rival of KSC2-303 from a past reincarnation, and seeks to use the woman to open the gates of hell and acquire a great power.
Now knowing that his destiny is to stop his nemesis, KSC2-303 vows to protect the girl and settle the age old rivalry once and for all…
Whilst Versus is primarily an action horror flick, there are also occasional comedic turns. These are relatively outrageous and self-conscious scenes that juxtapose the heavy premise and the gory aesthetic. Moreover, these don’t necessarily undermine the flow of the film. Much of the comedy is self-referential and parodying of generic elements in Far Eastern action films.
The gore used by Kitamura for many of the action and zombie scenes go to show he is a man who doesn’t wish to hold back on visceral horror and instead gives the audience the blunt imagery. As a result, there are people having huge holes blown through their body, bits of limbs being cut up, and guts flying ad nausea. Indeed, it is true to say that those who do not like blood will be looking through their fingers for much of the film. It is splatter core at its most visual.
What is probably the most enjoyable factor about Versus is that the plot is simple, but without lacking any narrative depth. The story of resurrection, reincarnation, sibling rivalry and love across spiritual worlds manages to squeeze its way in amongst the gun and swordplay, and this somehow feels right. Not many films manage to strike this balance successfully, however for Versus it just about works. This is also despite the movie being quite minimalist when it comes to dialogue, as, in most cases, actions speak louder than words. Occasionally this makes some scenes more interesting and poignant - this is beautifully displayed during a particular flashback sequence where emotion is created simply by facial expressions.
If there is one thing that comes across most with Versus, it is the overt stylistic comparison with the Matrix. This is probably no accident as the Matrix smashed box office records the year before Versus was released, and that in itself borrowed stylistic elements very heavily from Far Eastern cinema. However, in this case, the Matrix style effects are somewhat sent up. In one particular case, a man attempting to dodge a bullet in the style of Neo fails spectacularly and is blown to smithereens. It is also worth noting how many times KSC2-303 is referred to as ‘the one’ and, most notably, how he wears a very similar jacket to Neo’s.
Despite the fact that he is clearly modelled on Neo, Tak Sakaguichi manages to put in a fine performance as KSC2-303; portraying a character that is not as clear cut a hero as it would seem. Sakaguichi succeeds, despite the character being somewhat of an undesirable, in making the audience root for him and gives KSC2-303 an ice cool edge, as well as a fiery ruthlessness.
Versus is a film with many hidden depths, and is not simply the big loud action film it would appear to be on the surface. The somewhat deep story of rivalry and conflict crossing over many reincarnations successfully compliments the zombie splatter core, and makes for an engaging and entertaining two hours. Versus has ultimately stood the test of time, but it seems hard to imagine what could be improved upon should the US release actually happen. DJ
Film: Fitzcarraldo
Release date: 21st May 2007
Certificate: PG
Running time: 151 mins
Director: Werner Herzog
Starring: Klaus Kinski, Claudia Cardinale, José Lewgoy, Miguel Ángel Fuentes, Paul Hittscher
Genre: Adventure/Drama
Studio: Anchor Bay
Format: DVD
Country: Peru/West Germany
Over the years, there have been many actor/director collaborations of note: Robert De Niro and Martin Scorsese; and Toshirō Mifune and Akira Kurosawa are a couple of the better known examples. However, few have been as intense and impassioned as the work undertaken by director Werner Herzog and actor Klaus Kinski. Continually at odds with each other, with Herzog allegedly having to direct Kinski at gunpoint for parts of their first collaboration Aguirre, Wrath Of God (1972), they managed to make four more films together. Of the five films – including a remake of the silent classic Nosferatu with Kinski as Dracula in 1979 – the most infamously arduous, and perhaps most rewarding is their penultimate effort, Fitzcarraldo.
Set in the Amazonian jungles of Peru, European entrepreneur Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald (Kinski) – referred to as Fitzcarraldo by the locales – dreams of bringing his foremost love of opera to the town of Iquitos by building a grand opera house, and having the work of his favourite tenor Enrico Caruso play there.
Being the owner of the defunct Trans-Andean railway company, the town’s tycoons – many of whom enjoying success in the booming rubber industry – are quick to ridicule and dismiss Fitzcarraldo as an eccentric dreamer. Only successful brothel owner and lover Molly (Claudia Cardinale) believes in him.
To raise the capital required, Fitzcarraldo investigates setting himself up in the rubber business. With the help of rubber industrialist and friend Don Aquilino (José Lewgoy), Fitzcarraldo finds a section of land unclaimed by the rubber companies because of its inaccessibility - cut off from boat travel because of a treacherous stretch of rapids. With Molly’s financial assistance, Fitzcarraldo buys a three storey steam boat from Aquilino, and assembles a crew to venture out to the unreachable part of the jungle with an unorthodox plan…
Despite the innumerable problems with the film’s production (unpredictable weather; losing original lead actor Jason Robards halfway through due to a bout of dysentery, and having to start the film from scratch with Kinski; getting caught in the middle of violent disputes between the local Amazonian tribes being used as extras; not to mention dwindling morale from a disheartened crew), Fitzcarraldo miraculously manages to disguise these destructive elements, and presents a serene and frequently beautiful journey about one man’s unflinching obsession.
Regardless of the fisty-cuffs that may have occurred off-camera with Herzog, Kinski easily delivers one of his finest performances – based on real-life rubber baron Carlos Fitzcarrald – with a quiet intensity that never gets too hammy or pretentious. His Fitzcarraldo is a man with a seemingly indestructible spirit, whose determination in realising his dream peaks during the film’s famous centrepiece, where hundreds of native tribes people drag his 300 tonne steamboat over a mountain to avoid the perilous rapids.
Lewgoy’s Don Aquilino and Cardinale’s Molly also stand out lending the film an ensemble feeling, as opposed to it being merely a vehicle for Kinski’s occasional scenery chewing, which is very much restrained here.
Kinski’s subtle yet energetic performance ensures that the film’s languid two-and-a-half hour run time, whilst obviously long, never drags. Fitzcarraldo’s steamboat drifts serenely through miles of unspoilt jungle; a small beacon of civilisation in an otherwise savage world, creating a sense of isolation and foreboding that simply could not be achieved in a slapdash ninety-minute edit. Herzog manages to create a strong sense of a journey being undertaken, with the film’s length allowing such progression to evolve unhurried.
Herzog’s camera is simultaneously passive and active; lingering on an image the one minute and exploring as much as possible the next - revealing inherent beauties that would otherwise go unnoticed. Fitzcarraldo’s steamboat (christened Molly after its benefactor) becomes a character in itself; a clear symbol for man’s impact on nature, especially when Fitzcarraldo and his army of tribesmen – eager to assist who they mistake to be a white god travelling on the divine vessel – cut down hundreds of yards of jungle to clear a path for the boat’s slow journey over the mountain, which is achieved through building a complex network of winches made from the cut down trees.
The iconic boat pulling sequence – the scene that is synonymous with the film – is indeed very impressive to see unfold - from clearing the path to dragging the ship up through the mud hillside. It may be interesting to note that this was all done for real by Herzog and his cast and crew, with a bit of motorised assistance. In fact, the entirety of the film was done for real. Everything was shot on location in the Amazon, and on a real boat giving the story a weathered realism that simply couldn’t be replicated on a sound stage. This, coupled with Herzog’s vérité style camerawork, suggests an almost documentarian execution that makes the transpiring events even more engrossing to watch. We want Fitzcarraldo to succeed against the obstacles placed before him, making the film’s eventual denouncement all the more involving and emotional.
Fitzcarraldo is proof positive that you don’t need large scale battles for a story to feel epic. Sadly, this kind of filmmaking is a rarity nowadays; moving an entire cast and crew out into the jungle for the best part of a year is a prospect that most modern studio financiers would balk at, but, as a result, you feel as though you’ve been on a very real journey.
Herzog’s quirky humour is also present: the steamboat’s captain working out which tributary they are sailing on by tasting the water, and the image of an opera being transported on a fleet of small boats compete with instruments, performers in costume and false battlements crammed on (and hanging off the sides) are but two of the film’s stranger moments, providing welcome light relief. There are magic realist touches in the form of Fitzcarraldo’s beloved gramophone playing his idol Caruso for all the jungle to hear, with events turning to his favour each time the record is played.
In a way, Fitzcarraldo has some similarities to the positively nightmarish Apocalypse Now (1979) filmed a few years prior, or better still its literary source: Joseph Conrad’s Heart Of Darkness. Both works feature a group of people travelling up river through unfriendly lands (the Amazon in Fitzcarraldo and the African Congo in Heart Of Darkness) led by a man driven by obsession.
Its dreamy pace may dissuade some viewers, but Fitzcarraldo is a terrific and rewarding cinematic achievement, and a testament to Werner Herzog’s determination to realise his vision, rivalled only by the determination of the film’s eponymous lead. Despite the frequent, sometimes massive setbacks during the film’s production (painfully captured in Les Blanks’ making of Burden Of Dreams, which is included in the 25th Anniversary set), the film is wonderfully executed and remains coherent and interesting until its final satisfying moments. MP
Film: Assembly
Release date: 5th May 2008
Certificate: 15
Running time: 124 mins
Director: Feng Xiaogang
Starring: Wang Baoqiang, Zhang Hanyu, Deng Chao, Yuan Wenkang, Hu Jun
Genre: Action/Biography/Drama/History/War
Studio: Metrodome
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong/China
Assembly was produced by the same team who brought us the critically acclaimed Brotherhood, going on to receive even greater box office success, touching the hearts of audiences as the film follows the true story of Captain Gu Zidi during one of China’s bloodiest battles.
In 1948 the 9th Company, 3rd Battalion were ordered to protect the retreat of 139th Regiment from the Wen River valley. Already battle fatigued, the company of 48 men dug in and fought the entire 254th Division of the Nationalist army.
With only one mountain gun against a whole division with tanks, 9th Company, led by Captain Gu Zidi, held out for days against repeated attacks, all the while awaiting the bugle call to signal their retreat and assembly with the rest of their regiment. The bugle call never came…
If you think you have seen this war move before then don’t be put off because there are many facets of Assembly which raise it above the level of ordinary, and make it essential viewing. The Chinese civil war has often been overlooked by mainstream cinema, and it is of great credit to director Feng Xiaogang and writer Liu Heng that between them they have fashioned a tale of heroism and honour completely devoid of jingoism, patriotism or sentimentality. Propaganda for the red army this is not.
However, that isn’t to say that Assembly is not emotionally charged, or contains familiar set pieces; letters written home by soldiers about to die have almost come a genre standard, as have soldiers talking about what they will do after the war minutes before being shot or blown apart. Assembly is also big on honour and duty - two themes present in the vast majority of war films. What is surprising about how Assembly has been put together is the low-key narrative and the grounded, understated performances. The story is the most important thing on show here, and all the pyrotechnics and performances are geared toward accentuating the heart at the centre of the piece.
Of course, it is impossible to make a war movie without drawing comparisons to other films in the genre, and, in particular, recent films are often unfairly compared with Saving Private Ryan or Band Of Brothers. Assembly is no exception, but it easily holds its own in this esteemed company. The brutal opening scenes are gruesome but compelling, and also essential to the characterization of the hero, Captain Gu Zidi. An early scene in which 9th Company’s political officer is caught by an exploding artillery shell is truly extraordinary – jaw dropping, infact.
This incredible moment informs everything which follows as soldiers are shot, blown up, set on fire and thrown from impossible angles across the frozen, muddy trenches. Forget about war movies, Assembly contains two or three of the best pyrotechnic set pieces you will ever see in ANY movie. The editing during the opening third, in particular, is so sharp and focused that the effect of the action is unbelievably disorientating, and completely immersive.
The effects, in general, and makeup, in particular, are straight out of the top drawer. The main characters who survive the initial battles all age realistically over the duration of the story arc, and the injuries incurred on the battlefield are all hyper-realistic. The overall look of Assembly is stark and cold, giving the impression that the protagonists are battling something elemental, as well as manmade.
The score sets the tone of the film beautifully; subtle and understated, even during the battle scenes; the music drives the narrative at an almost subconscious level, never burdening the action by making bold statements that the onscreen events cannot live up to. Although the first act could live up to the most bombastic of scores, it is to everyone’s credit that once again the story is allowed to be the emotional core of everything on screen.
At its essence, Assembly is the story of one man and his battle with the grief of losing his friends, his guilt because he alone survived, and his fight to have the sacrifice his men made for their country recognised by the state. The performance of Zhang Hanyu as the remorseful Gu Zidi is quite simply astounding - truly one of the most believable portrayals of grief from recent times. Gu Zidi is flawed, driven, and uncompromising, yet it is impossible not to sympathise as his symbolic, one-man struggle against the state literally manifests itself into a struggle against a mountain. Despite his injury ravaged body, Gu Zidi digs his way through years of manmade coal excavation’s as he attempts to find, not only the trapped bodies of his dead comrades, but his own salvation. The fact this is based on a true story makes the action all the more remarkable.
The supporting cast is also excellent, with broadly drawn characters all behaving naturally in impossible conditions. This is refreshing as, unusually for films where the main character struggles against a large organisation, in this case the Chinese state, it is easy to find sympathy with everyone involved, even if the position the state authorities adopt with regards the status of Gu Zidi’s dead comrades seems infuriating.
Assembly is a brilliant piece of filmmaking, as thought provoking and intelligent as it is thrilling and arresting. This is an absolute ‘must-have’ for anyone who loves war movies, and there is much to admire for everyone else. SM
