I discovered an absolutely awesome site: the editing room. It's by a guy called Rod Hilton. He writes these devastatingly funny and satirical abridged scripts.
Read the abridged Twilight script. It's the funniest thing I have read in a long time--nearly had me on the floor laughing.
Enjoy!
Friday, November 20, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
The Thomas Crown Affair (1968 & 1999)
The remake has a dapper Pierce Brosnan, a sexy Rene Russo in a diaphanous gown, steamy love scenes, and a clever art heist.The original had Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway playing an erotic game of chess that ended with a head-spinningly sexy kiss. And that really is saying everything. Who cares if the bank robbery is the dullest in movie history or if film abuses the split screen technique to such a degree that somebody ought to have filed a petition.
The director, Norman Jewison, said that the film is a triumph of style over substance. It’s the sort of thing people say when they want to apologize and justify at the same time. He should have simply pointed at McQueen on the screen and that would have been all. Watching Steve McQueen play a super rich, suave Boston businessman, a character so utterly and completely against his macho screen persona, and pull it off as only McQueen can, is its own reward.
McQueen has the kind of screen presence that, to borrow a delightful phrase from the NY Times, creates its own gravitational pull. His co-stars had to be content with simply orbiting around him, but not Faye Dunaway. How she managed to pull off this gravity-defying stunt is beyond my power of analysis, but she has all my admiration and applause.
The film is about two people who are attracted to each other because of who they are and must also go different ways because of who they are. We should be grateful that no happy ending is tacked on to the film; the film is slick and cool and such maudlin mush would truly ruin the effect.
The remake is keenly aware that the original got away with a lame robbery only because Steve McQueen planned it. So the remake fixes the problem with a daring art heist: Crown plans an elaborate distraction and coolly walks away with a Monet in his briefcase from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Later, he returns the Monet in an ingenious and suspenseful sequence scored to Nina Simone’s absolutely awesome Sinnerman.The film is not just content with redoing the heist bit; it also wants to fix the romance by giving it a happy ending. The ending, to be fair, doesn’t come out of the blue; the film had been heading that way all along and all the misunderstandings are explained satisfactorily in the end. I should also point out that the remake takes so many liberties with the original that calling it a remake may be stretching it quite a bit and I don’t mean that in a bad way. The remake takes the idea of a rich bored man, who robs banks, meeting his match in an insurance investigator and invents the rest of the story. It stands as a good heist film on its own and clearly does a far better job of it than the original. But when it comes to sheer charisma and magic, there is absolutely no comparison. Pierce and Rene are good, in fact very good, but they are not McQueen and Dunaway and there is no way their sexy dance can compete with the iconic game of chess.
Even though I don’t have any quarrel with the happy ending of the remake, there is something about the regret and heartbreak of the original that I love. When McQueen flies off in his plane at the end and Dunaway looks up, there was something haunting about it. An unfulfilled romance always gives you something to think about—an affair with Thomas Crown.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Pride and Prejudice (2005)
Let me begin with a declaration: I absolutely, absolutely ADORE this film.
The film opens as the sun rises over a misty, muddy field; it is not the picture-perfect image of the English countryside and it sets the tone for the film’s cheerfully muddy take on the trim, manicured lawns of the previous adaptations. However, that does not mean the film is not pretty to look at; in fact, it is the most gorgeous-looking Pride and Prejudice adaptation to date.
The Bennet household is a perfect example of the film’s approach. It is a warm, overcrowded, lived-in space with bonnets and ribbons, books and plants, animals and people all cheerfully and noisily living under one happy roof. One of the film’s greatest achievements is its portrayal of the Bennet family and a large part of the credit is due to the actors. It is a brilliant example of ensemble acting; they are so fantastically in sync with each other, they never miss a beat or strike a false note. The Bennet sisters esp., Lydia and Kitty are absolutely terrific—they run around the house, listen at doors, giggle at silly jokes, bicker over ribbons, and share juicy gossip—their joie de vivre is infectious and tangible.
Every character, and not just the Bennet family, is cast perfectly and every actor from top to bottom is brilliant. And while we are talking about actors, here’s another declaration: Matthew MacFadyen’s Darcy is far better than Colin Firth’s Darcy. There, I said it.
What makes MacFadyen’s portrayal authentic to me is that he beautifully brings out a certain sad tenderness that underlines Darcy’s character without compromising on Darcy’s hauteur. In MacFadyen’s Darcy, we actually see someone whose arrogance is the unfortunate consequence of trying to live up to his superior rank and overcome his terrible shyness at the same time. For evidence, look no further than the scene at Netherfield where Lizzy teases Darcy about laughing at him. Instead of summoning up all his Darcy-ness to dispel the very idea from Lizzy’s mind, he looks startled and terrified by the idea. MacFadyen’s body language is so well-tuned and perfect that not a single move or gesture is accidental or wasted—his double take when he sees Lizzy for the first time and then quickly looking away; his eagerness to strike a conversation with Lizzy and then immediately hesitating as if he’s afraid of showing too much interest; the evident sexual jealousy in the alert tilt of the head and squaring of shoulders upon hearing Lizzy mention Wickham; and the hilarious little scene where he turns with his hand on his waist and nearly decapitates Mr. Collins with his elbow.
Keira Knightley’s spunky Lizzy is a perfect match to MacFadyen’s quietly smoldering Darcy. She is an irresistible combination of beguiling charm and witty rejoinders—she knocks Darcy off his high horse and shows him that she is capable of giving back as good as she gets. For example, when Lizzy still hurting from Darcy’s infamous “barely tolerable” remark gets back at him by telling him that the best way to encourage affection is “Dancing, even if one's partner is barely tolerable” and struts off or when Darcy, in a rare moment, confesses to her that he finds it difficult to talk to people he does not know, she archly remarks “perhaps you should follow your aunt’s advice and practice.” MacFadyen’s expression on both occasions is priceless. Keira may have been the greenest member of the cast, but she more than stands her own against stalwarts like Judy Dench and Donald Sutherland, and MacFadyen, who is a classically trained actor. Her spirited and open performance brings a vigor and daring to Lizzy that is very engaging.
However, the real star of the film, as should ideally be, is the director, Joe Wright. Of course, he had great material to build upon. Deborah Moggach’s screenplay is a triumph of storytelling economy. She peels away layers and layers of details and chips away at the plot till we arrive at a lean 2 hour narrative that retains the spirit and complexity of Austen’s story. Working with this screenplay, Wright brilliantly underlines and teases out the significance of each action and event. He makes nearly every scene in the film do double duty without making it all seem heavy-handed. For example, take the scene where Darcy, to Lizzy’s utter surprise, offers her his hand to help her into the carriage. It cuts to a superb insert shot of Darcy flexing his hand as if electrified by the touch. You can feel the crackling chemistry and significance of Darcy’s action—the seemingly proper Mr. Darcy couldn’t resist the skin-to-skin touch of a woman he thinks is “barely tolerable”. This one little insert shot tells you more about Darcy’s state of mind than a dozen shots of Darcy quietly staring at Lizzy. It is visual shortcuts like these that most adaptations lack and what allows this adaptation to cut through all the details and get straight to the heart of the matter.
Later, at Pemberley, we are again shown Darcy’s hand as Lizzy, flustered with embarrassment, refuses his offer to walk her to the inn and runs off. The scene is brilliantly set up: the camera follows Lizzy as she makes her exit and then quietly comes back and stops at Darcy’s empty, limp hand—it speaks volumes about his disappointment at her leaving him so suddenly. It is a moment of such poignant and aching beauty because it is at this moment that Darcy realizes that he is feeling left out, that he wants to be part of whatever Lizzy is doing, that he is completely and truly in love with her. And sure enough, the next thing he does is invite Lizzy and Mr and Mrs Gardiner to Pemberley.
Anyone who has ever been in love cannot help but marvel at the genius with which Joe Wright has wordlessly evoked such an elusive feeling. And all these lovely images pay off in the final glorious scene, when Lizzy steps into Darcy’s frame, takes his hand in hers and kisses it as the sun rises behind them.
The film opens as the sun rises over a misty, muddy field; it is not the picture-perfect image of the English countryside and it sets the tone for the film’s cheerfully muddy take on the trim, manicured lawns of the previous adaptations. However, that does not mean the film is not pretty to look at; in fact, it is the most gorgeous-looking Pride and Prejudice adaptation to date.
The Bennet household is a perfect example of the film’s approach. It is a warm, overcrowded, lived-in space with bonnets and ribbons, books and plants, animals and people all cheerfully and noisily living under one happy roof. One of the film’s greatest achievements is its portrayal of the Bennet family and a large part of the credit is due to the actors. It is a brilliant example of ensemble acting; they are so fantastically in sync with each other, they never miss a beat or strike a false note. The Bennet sisters esp., Lydia and Kitty are absolutely terrific—they run around the house, listen at doors, giggle at silly jokes, bicker over ribbons, and share juicy gossip—their joie de vivre is infectious and tangible.
Every character, and not just the Bennet family, is cast perfectly and every actor from top to bottom is brilliant. And while we are talking about actors, here’s another declaration: Matthew MacFadyen’s Darcy is far better than Colin Firth’s Darcy. There, I said it.
What makes MacFadyen’s portrayal authentic to me is that he beautifully brings out a certain sad tenderness that underlines Darcy’s character without compromising on Darcy’s hauteur. In MacFadyen’s Darcy, we actually see someone whose arrogance is the unfortunate consequence of trying to live up to his superior rank and overcome his terrible shyness at the same time. For evidence, look no further than the scene at Netherfield where Lizzy teases Darcy about laughing at him. Instead of summoning up all his Darcy-ness to dispel the very idea from Lizzy’s mind, he looks startled and terrified by the idea. MacFadyen’s body language is so well-tuned and perfect that not a single move or gesture is accidental or wasted—his double take when he sees Lizzy for the first time and then quickly looking away; his eagerness to strike a conversation with Lizzy and then immediately hesitating as if he’s afraid of showing too much interest; the evident sexual jealousy in the alert tilt of the head and squaring of shoulders upon hearing Lizzy mention Wickham; and the hilarious little scene where he turns with his hand on his waist and nearly decapitates Mr. Collins with his elbow.
Keira Knightley’s spunky Lizzy is a perfect match to MacFadyen’s quietly smoldering Darcy. She is an irresistible combination of beguiling charm and witty rejoinders—she knocks Darcy off his high horse and shows him that she is capable of giving back as good as she gets. For example, when Lizzy still hurting from Darcy’s infamous “barely tolerable” remark gets back at him by telling him that the best way to encourage affection is “Dancing, even if one's partner is barely tolerable” and struts off or when Darcy, in a rare moment, confesses to her that he finds it difficult to talk to people he does not know, she archly remarks “perhaps you should follow your aunt’s advice and practice.” MacFadyen’s expression on both occasions is priceless. Keira may have been the greenest member of the cast, but she more than stands her own against stalwarts like Judy Dench and Donald Sutherland, and MacFadyen, who is a classically trained actor. Her spirited and open performance brings a vigor and daring to Lizzy that is very engaging.
However, the real star of the film, as should ideally be, is the director, Joe Wright. Of course, he had great material to build upon. Deborah Moggach’s screenplay is a triumph of storytelling economy. She peels away layers and layers of details and chips away at the plot till we arrive at a lean 2 hour narrative that retains the spirit and complexity of Austen’s story. Working with this screenplay, Wright brilliantly underlines and teases out the significance of each action and event. He makes nearly every scene in the film do double duty without making it all seem heavy-handed. For example, take the scene where Darcy, to Lizzy’s utter surprise, offers her his hand to help her into the carriage. It cuts to a superb insert shot of Darcy flexing his hand as if electrified by the touch. You can feel the crackling chemistry and significance of Darcy’s action—the seemingly proper Mr. Darcy couldn’t resist the skin-to-skin touch of a woman he thinks is “barely tolerable”. This one little insert shot tells you more about Darcy’s state of mind than a dozen shots of Darcy quietly staring at Lizzy. It is visual shortcuts like these that most adaptations lack and what allows this adaptation to cut through all the details and get straight to the heart of the matter.
Later, at Pemberley, we are again shown Darcy’s hand as Lizzy, flustered with embarrassment, refuses his offer to walk her to the inn and runs off. The scene is brilliantly set up: the camera follows Lizzy as she makes her exit and then quietly comes back and stops at Darcy’s empty, limp hand—it speaks volumes about his disappointment at her leaving him so suddenly. It is a moment of such poignant and aching beauty because it is at this moment that Darcy realizes that he is feeling left out, that he wants to be part of whatever Lizzy is doing, that he is completely and truly in love with her. And sure enough, the next thing he does is invite Lizzy and Mr and Mrs Gardiner to Pemberley.
Anyone who has ever been in love cannot help but marvel at the genius with which Joe Wright has wordlessly evoked such an elusive feeling. And all these lovely images pay off in the final glorious scene, when Lizzy steps into Darcy’s frame, takes his hand in hers and kisses it as the sun rises behind them.
Another remarkable aspect of Wright’s direction is how completely the film mirrors Lizzy’s thoughts; this is more than just saying that a film is from this character’s point of view. The way the Bennet household and ballroom sequences are filmed is markedly different from the scenes at Rosings Park and Netherfield Hall, while the Pemberley visit has a hypnotic rhythm of its own.
With the former, the camera is an invisible member of the family or a curious guest through whose eyes we see the story unfold. Two standout examples are the superb Netherfield ball and the family dinner with Mr Collins, where the Bennets exchange amused look while taking turns at mocking Mr Collins. The Netherfield ball is something of a virtuoso sequence—it is bookended by two graceful long takes that provide a sort of before-and-after commentary (and must have taken days and days of rehearsals to perfect). The highlight of the ball is the dance between Lizzy and Darcy where we see the world from their view and realize that they are only conscious of each other—everyone else has disappeared.
The scenes at Rosings and Netherfield are very self-consciously framed. The formality of these scenes have a touch of absurd and artifice; take, for example, the comic tableau at Rosings where Darcy, Col. Fitzwilliam and Collins stand like mannequins in front of Lady Catherine de Burgh or the symmetrical perfection of the drawing room walk at Netherfield.
Contrast these with the sheer elegance and fluidity of the gorgeous sculpture room sequence at Pemberley. Interestingly, in this sequence, Lizzy, who is otherwise always dressed in earthy, dark colors, is wearing a white dress—it is almost as if she is a part of the world of Pemberley and has blended in beautifully.
No self-respecting discussion of a Pride and Prejudice adaptation is complete without a comparison of the two proposals. As with everything else, Wright and his actors do a brilliant job with both of the scenes. The first proposal is a literally stormy one, with tempers and passions flaring. I particularly like the way the scene ends with Darcy and Lizzy, having spent all their anger, finding that they are literally breathing into each other's face; in fact, Darcy makes what looks like a move to kiss Lizzy but stops and withdraws, leaving Lizzy physically reeling from anger and more likely, the closeness of the encounter.
The second proposal is quite easily the most romantic scene that’s not in any Austen book but should have been—yes, and that includes the much-maligned choked, stammering declaration of love. It’s about two people who couldn’t sleep all night thinking about each other, wondering whether they will get a second chance, and discovering that they are not suffering alone or in vain. There is something terribly vulnerable about both of them wandering in the morning mist, still in their nightdress, too distracted to have changed or care. Unlike the first proposal, which takes place between two social unequals; here, they meet as equals in love—they are both literally and figuratively stripped of all markers of their position and wealth, the only thing they are left with is the love they feel for each other. It is such a beautiful condensation and presentation of the idea in the book that frankly, I am always surprised when people complain that the film puts in things Austen never intended.
The film ends the way it began—on a beautiful morning with an enchanting piano score by Dario Marianelli and love in the air. Sigh!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
My Proustian Moment
Dustedoff’s special eye-candy post on Robert Mitchum (and my oversight, a massive oversight at that, while creating my eye-candy list) has inspired me to do a similar special eye-candy post on the gorgeousness that is Christian Bale.
What I like best about him is that his appeal is so understated and subtle that if you are not careful, you might miss him altogether. Unlike other eye-candy material, good looks are not the core of his appeal (although we will drool to death over the sheer aesthetics of his cheekbone a few paragraphs from now). In fact, he had escaped my radar for such a long time that I must attribute it to my lousy memory rather than any Bale-ness.
I first noticed him as Laurie in Little Women and made a mental note to watch out for this Bale guy. But nothing happened for a long time. Some years later, I saw The Prestige and raved about how clever the film is; yet, I failed to realize that the Bale guy is in it. Then I saw Equilibrium, a most ridiculous film, and again made no connection. Then I saw Batman Begins and thought it was hardly as great as people said but still no mental connection. Then I saw The Dark Knight and thought Heath Ledger was scintillating. But no synaptic connection. Oh, and in between S told me about how Christian Bale (emphasis mine) had lost a ridiculous amount of weight for a role and yours truly thinks “some De Niro wannabe” and shrugs it off!
I finally GOT it, when I saw The Portrait of a Lady and something about the way Bale turned his head in a particular scene made me go “Hey! The Laurie guy… hummm…so he plays bit parts in period films” and congratulate myself on what I believed was a rare Bale sighting! The feeling of serendipity lasted a few seconds and then, I had my Proustian moment.
In learning theory, there is something called a Threshold Concept. This concept is like a portal that opens up an utterly new and transformed way of understanding or viewing a subject. Interestingly, the sheer obviousness of a threshold concept especially, once you have passed that threshold, often confounds the learners. Christian Bale is the threshold concept that completely transformed my view on Men.
Note for S: Men with a capital M means an abstract idea. So, relax.
Now, coming back to the purpose of this post: Ladies, here are some sights for sore eyes:
By the way, the man says that he absolutely hates posing for photographs.
What I like best about him is that his appeal is so understated and subtle that if you are not careful, you might miss him altogether. Unlike other eye-candy material, good looks are not the core of his appeal (although we will drool to death over the sheer aesthetics of his cheekbone a few paragraphs from now). In fact, he had escaped my radar for such a long time that I must attribute it to my lousy memory rather than any Bale-ness.
I first noticed him as Laurie in Little Women and made a mental note to watch out for this Bale guy. But nothing happened for a long time. Some years later, I saw The Prestige and raved about how clever the film is; yet, I failed to realize that the Bale guy is in it. Then I saw Equilibrium, a most ridiculous film, and again made no connection. Then I saw Batman Begins and thought it was hardly as great as people said but still no mental connection. Then I saw The Dark Knight and thought Heath Ledger was scintillating. But no synaptic connection. Oh, and in between S told me about how Christian Bale (emphasis mine) had lost a ridiculous amount of weight for a role and yours truly thinks “some De Niro wannabe” and shrugs it off!
I finally GOT it, when I saw The Portrait of a Lady and something about the way Bale turned his head in a particular scene made me go “Hey! The Laurie guy… hummm…so he plays bit parts in period films” and congratulate myself on what I believed was a rare Bale sighting! The feeling of serendipity lasted a few seconds and then, I had my Proustian moment.
In learning theory, there is something called a Threshold Concept. This concept is like a portal that opens up an utterly new and transformed way of understanding or viewing a subject. Interestingly, the sheer obviousness of a threshold concept especially, once you have passed that threshold, often confounds the learners. Christian Bale is the threshold concept that completely transformed my view on Men.
Note for S: Men with a capital M means an abstract idea. So, relax.
Now, coming back to the purpose of this post: Ladies, here are some sights for sore eyes:
By the way, the man says that he absolutely hates posing for photographs.
No eye contact
No eye contact, but check out those magnificent cheekbones 
He smiles, but still no eye contact
Ah! Finally…a female equivalent of this would be a bikini-clad Gisele Bundchen
It often happens that when you learn a new word, you find it everywhere. The same thing happened in this case. Once I became aware of him, I find a link to the infamous 4-minute rant in a long-forgotten e-mail forward; I find I had films of his that I had never bothered to see before; I find Bale films playing on the movie channels; and I get two almost back-to-back Bale releases -- Terminator Salvation and Public Enemies. What more can a girl ask for?
Well, there is one thing. Most of his characters are grim and dour or when they loosen up, it is to land an axe on a colleague’s head. So, a friend, who is a fellow-Bale lover, and I decided that what we really want is for him to do one dashing, leading man sort of role and we will be in heaven.
Just imagine what a modern-day Casablanca with Bale would be like!!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
For Fellow Cary Grant Lovers
Monday, June 29, 2009
Vicky Cristina Barcelona
I believe this film is Woody Allen’s James-ian story -- the innocent American’s encounter with the sophisticated European. The innocent Americans in this film are Vicky and Cristina, two best friends who have come to spend a glorious summer in Barcelona. The girls are played by Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson, respectively. The sophisticated Europeans are the sexy painter Juan Antonio and his ex-wife Maria Elena, played by Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz. The film opens with the two girls arriving in Barcelona; the narrator doesn’t waste much time and tells us that these two have very different views on the matter of love. Vicky wants stability and Cristina only knows what she doesn’t want -- stability. All is well in Barcelona until one evening when Cristina spots a lonely man in a red shirt in an art gallery. She is informed that he is a painter and had a “bad divorce”. Naturally, she takes an instant liking to him and provokes eye contact with him for the rest of the evening. Since there was never a Spaniard in a film who refused an invitation, Juan Antonio walks up to the ladies and make an interesting proposal to both of them -- he will show them around the town of Oviedo, they will great have fun and maybe make love. Vicky, who has a fiancé back in the U.S., is scandalized and Cristina is amused and accepts the offer. And so begins a crazy entanglement that will lead to much questioning and soul-searching and a wounded hand.
Allen doesn’t really have any surprises for us here. We know right away that despite her professed love for her fiancé and the stability of married life, Vicky will fall for Juan’s free-wheeling lifestyle and torture herself wondering, “Is this is what I really want?” Cristina will rush headlong into a romance with Juan, who, to be fair, proves to be a wonderful sort of fellow. He encourages her to follow her heart, introduces her to his poet and painter friends; and, makes wonderful love to her. And then, one fine night, Maria Elena comes to stay with them after her latest failed attempt at suicide.
Maria and Juan are “made for each other”, which means that instead of being the ying to the other’s yang, they are all ying and all yang. To illustrate how perfect they are together, Allen tells us that Maria had stabbed Juan during one of their famous fights. Of all the stereotypes in the world, Allen picks the mother of all romantic stereotypes! Anyway, the fiery Maria quickly realizes that Cristina poses no threat to her on-off relationship with Juan and extends the hand of friendship. She encourages Cristina to pursue photography, helps her develops a style, makes a darkroom for her and experiments with her as a lover. Surprisingly, Cristina proves to be the ying to the combined yang of Juan and Maria. She soaks in the experience and the three settle into a comfortable sort of existence -- sharing each other’s bed and providing each other inspiration.
But soon the experience stops being an experience for Cristina; she began having more thoughts than feelings, the narrator tells us. When she breaks this news to Juan and Maria, Maria throws a fit; “chronic dissatisfaction, that’s what you have” she tells Cristina. Probably, the truest thing said in this film. Maria, and Juan to some extend, is all feeling and Cristina wants to be like them but she is not like them and that is what she discovers. She, like all dreamers, only likes the idea of something but never the real thing.
But the audience would definitely sigh with relief at Cristina’s decision. For all their fiery and bohemian charm, Juan and Maria are the outsiders in this worldview. If Cristina had decided to stay back in Spain and only Vicky had returned to America, we would feel like we have lost Cristina. Barcelona is a risky little emotional adventure and the trick is come back home safe and a little wiser.
Scarlett is luscious to look at but she is not exactly a good actress. There are places in the film where Allen appears handicapped by this fact; especially, the scene where Cristina sits by herself and makes the decision to break off with Juan and Maria. Instead of Cristina articulating her thoughts, which frankly would have been far more natural and effective, Scarlett is filmed from a distance as she looks at the ocean and the narrator simply tells us that she was having thoughts about the relationship. It’s a shame because Cristina’s story at this point is far more interesting than Vicky’s. Rebecca, on the other hand, is delightfully muddled as Vicky. The key note of her character is hesitation more than cowardice and Rebecca expresses this wonderfully through her body language. She could almost be the milder female version of the Allen character.
Juan’s reputation precedes his character. He is a famous artist, with a fiery temper and a fiery relationship with women. But it all turns out to be hearsay. He is in fact the dullest character in the film. We do not see the fiery temper nor do we see his tempestuous relationship with women. He is actually in thrall of Maria Elena. It is she who makes him exciting and dangerous. She claims that he looks for her in all women and he has stolen her style. Honestly, I believe her. Javier Bardem makes an interesting beginning simply because you didn’t expect him to actually pull off the sexy artist routine. But he does, but then, the general dullness of his character sinks him. Bardem would have fared better if he had added a touch of the devil to his performance, but Bardem plays Juan too straight.
And finally, Penelope Cruz. When Juan tells Cristina that Maria used to be the most beautiful and passionate woman in Spain and there were 100 men ready to kill for her, you believe him -- the magnificent wreck is proof enough. But Allen smothers her character with a heavy gloss of romanticism. With her tousled hair, kohl-rimmed eyes, loose fitting clothes and languorous sensuality, she fits a romantic’s description of a passionate artist. But where is the pain and frustration of living with and being someone like that? Sure, this is a comedy but since when did Allen shy away from a little unpleasantness? Isn’t he the man who gave us the ugly spat between Sydney Pollack and his blonde girlfriend in Husbands and Wives? Cruz, to her credit, tries to bring a nasty sort of temper and emotion to her character. But her attempts do not reach us because she is doubly distanced from us: first, the film positions her as the outsider, someone we don’t invest in emotionally; second, she speaks mostly Spanish and very little English. So we don’t even know what she is saying half of the time only that she is always angry.
Vicky Cristina Barcelona is a strictly okay film by Allen’s standard. The film is glorious to look at. Barcelona, I thought, would be all white under the blinding sunlight, but here, it is golden and mellow. But then this is a film dripping with an old fool’s romanticism where soft focus rather than cutting insight is the order of the day.
Thoughts on the Descent
*****Spoilers Aplenty*****Apart from the fact that I am easily frightened, one of the reasons why I don’t enjoy horror films, particularly creature films, is because there are hardly any people in them -- only screaming victims. Regular creature films are a series of gruesome killings with zero thought given to the person who is being gnawed to death. The Descent, on the other hand, presents us with real people -- six girlfriends who go on a caving expedition in the Appalachian Mountains. They are not your standard horror-film characters -- they are brave, physically-fit, resourceful women who go river rafting, base jumping and spelunking on weekends.
I saw the film about three years ago and saw it again recently. The film is one of the most terrifying and intelligent horror films in recent years. There is also plenty of blood and gore -- enough to make Lucio Fulci weep with joy. But before I proceed any further, I will provide a brief synopsis to help you with the rest of the post.
The film opens with a brief prologue where we see three best friends, Sarah, Juno and Beth, on a river-rafting expedition. It is established right away that there is something going on between Juno and Sarah’s husband and that Beth is suspicious of them; but even before we fully realise what is happening, a horrific road accident claims Sarah’s husband and daughter's life. The accident leaves Sarah emotionally unstable and fragile, prone to vivid hallucinations of her dead daughter. A year later, Juno organizes a caving expedition along with three other girlfriends in the hope that Sarah will enjoy the experience and more importantly, to make up to Sarah by doing something good for her. However, Juno, in a misguided attempt to surprise them, lies to all of them and takes them to an unexplored cave system. Things go wrong almost immediately when a cave-in blocks the entrance and the girls are forced to find another way out. Desperate and on the verge of hysteria, the girls, nevertheless, brave on but soon find themselves attacked and outnumbered by pale, golem-like creatures who have perfectly evolved to live in the dark. One by one, the girls fall prey to the creatures, except for Beth who is accidently killed by Juno; but before she dies, Beth tells Sarah about Juno’s betrayal. A traumatized Sarah has her revenge when she puts a climbing axe through Juno’s leg and leaves her to die while she climbs out of the cave. This is where the US version ends, but the UK version shows Sarah waking up in the cave -- her escape was a hallucination. She is still trapped inside the cave, awaiting death.
Most great horror films have brilliant setting. Mediocre ones simply introduce a locked or dark room when it’s time for some killing. Apart from the first few scenes, the Descent is set in the pitch dark of an underground cave system. The only source of light is the headlight on the women’s helmets and the torches they carry. This could have resulted in the cave looking and feeling pretty much the same throughout the film; after all, a dark cave is just a dark cave. But the writer-director, Neil Marshall, ingeniously uses the different sources of light to brilliant effect. The cave chamber appears bathed in blood when the girls light up the red flare; the fluorescent green glow stick washes the characters in a sickly hue, the fiery orange of the torches suggest a primal rage and the night vision of the camcorder not only functions as a POV but reveals things hidden in the dark. In fact, the most terrifying shot in the film comes from the camcorder.
As would be evident from the synopsis, the most interesting aspect of the film is that it works on three different levels simultaneously. Firstly, there is the high-tension, claustrophobic nature of the adventure. These girls crawl through some unbelievably narrow and dark passages; one of them rigs a line across a chasm by hanging free from the cave ceiling and hauling herself to the other side -- both these sequences are heart-stopping. Trust me, you will forget to breathe.
Secondly, the relationship between the women especially, Sarah, Beth and Juno is fraught with unspoken hostility and guilt. The precise nature and extent of Juno’s relationship with Sarah’s husband remains unknown and this ambiguity is key to how we interpret their actions later. Beth seems convinced of Juno guilt and most of Juno’s actions seem motivated by her own guilt. However, it isn’t as simple as that -- Juno is someone who will never be satisfied with doing a simple thing; she wants it to be bigger and better. It is only when the entrance of the cave is blocked that she tells the group that they are in an uncharted cave system. She tells them that she wants them to be the first to discover this cave and name it after Sarah. But do we and her friends believe her? One of girls acidly remarks: This is not caving. This is an ego-trip.
Finally, the metaphorical descent into madness. Regardless of which interpretation you favor (there are two possible interpretations: first, everything happens the way it is shown; second, the creatures are not real, Sarah kills her friends in her psychosis), it is Sarah’s descent into brutality and madness that makes the film so chilling and haunting. One of the real shocks comes when the film begins to link Sarah and the creatures. In a shot that's a direct reference to Coppola’s masterpiece Apocalypse Now, Sarah emerges from a pool of blood and the sound of her breathing underwater is the same as the distinct sound that the creatures make.
Sarah’s transformation is horrifying because she started out as the weakest member in the team. She is treated as the child in the group; she gets stuck in a tunnel, she is scared of bats, and nobody believes her when she says she saw someone in the dark. When the creatures first attack the group, Sarah gets separated from the rest, falls down and loses consciousness. From this point on, I believe what we are seeing is both a ritual catharsis and a descent into madness. Her first task is to make fire by striking the carabiners that she has on her. Using the flame to find her way, she stumbles across a fatally injured Beth. Beth tells Sarah not to trust Juno and gives her Juno’s necklace as proof of her affair with Sarah’s husband. Sarah mercy-kills Beth before the creatures find her. Immediately after this, Sarah is attacked by a child, a female and a male creature and she kills them one by one. These killings are hard to accept at a literal level because on one in the group ever encounters a child or a female creature. It seems too much of a coincidence that only Sarah encounters them. The way I see it, these killings function at a symbolic level -- the destruction of the family right after she learns of her husband’s infidelity. In the final fight with the creatures, Sarah is no longer fighting the creatures to defend herself; instead, she kills them as a way of unleashing her fury. There is also something disturbing about how she kills them -- she pokes her finger into their eyes -- it make you cringe and feel sorry for the poor creature! Of course, this too can be read symbolically -- she is herself blind with rage and madness. Her next act, injuring Juno and leaving her to die, has always elicited a mixed response.
Did Juno deserve the ‘punishment’ Sarah metes out to her? Throughout the film, Juno is presented as a flawed hero. Although her position is repeatedly challenged by others and all the blame is heaped on her head, she is very much the leader of the group. Juno was undoubtedly negligent in leading her friends into a potentially dangerous situation, but how far do we want to stretch the blame? Especially, when she is the only one in the group who risks her own life trying to find and protect the rest. She fights with the creature for Holly’s body while the others run off; she saves Rebecca when her own sister runs away; and, she goes back for Sarah when the rest give her up as dead. The film encourages our identification with Juno by giving her all the hero shots and frames. There are plenty of shots of Juno leading the team with a flame in her hand, there are low angle shots of her and the classic swinging the weapon or your gear on your shoulder shot. These are recognizable images and are always reserved for heroes in action films. Interestingly, Sarah gets all the villain shot. The hand coming out of the earth -- the great visual motif in horror films is reserved for Sarah. Her posture and scream after she kills the family is again an unmistakable reference to the scream let out by the alien in Predator. Not surprisingly, her friends mistake her scream for the creature’s scream. The film even uses the Dutch angle on her during the final, wordless confrontation with Juno. Looking at all these clues, it becomes evident that part of the film's meaning is coded in its techniques and visual references (check Jim Emerson’s blog for other detailed references).
The Descent is also unique because it has an all-female cast, a fact that you hardly notice until you think about it. The fact that Marshall doesn’t treat it as a big deal is to his credit. I like that he gives the girls a fair chance against the creatures -- the very first fight between the creatures and Juno establishes that these creatures can be killed, provided the girls stick together and quickly find a way out of the cave.
Cronenberg said, “I think of horror films as art, as films of confrontation. Films that make you confront aspects of your own life that are difficult to face. Just because you're making a horror film doesn't mean you can't make an artful film.” The Descent is great precisely because it effortless combines the best of a gory, horror film and a subtle, psychological film.
It seems a little silly saying this after I have spoiled and analyzed the film for you, but do watch it.
PS: The film gained some amount of notoriety even before it was released. The bus that was blown up as part of a coordinated series of attack on the London Transport System in 2005 carried a poster of the film, which proclaimed “Outright terror…bold and brilliant”.
The poster of the film on the bus became the most recognizable image of the bombing. But it wasn’t just the placement of the poster, but the storyline of the film that proved to be uncanny in the way it mirrored the events of that Thursday. The Descent is about a group of people who are trapped underground and face unrelenting terror. Talk about uncanny coincidence!
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