Shame

Been a bit busy recently, so haven't updated in a while. I saw the Steve McQueen (not that one) film Shame a few weeks ago and will now let you all know what I thought about it. Since it's predominantly about sex, I'll try to ease up on the childish jokes, but I can't promise anything.

Shame (2012)

I'm going to blow my reviewing wad early by starting off with the admission that I didn't like Shame. It's a grim, angsty bit of filmmaking that feels its really meaningful, but actually comes across as a student film with a much higher budget complete with predictable depressing ending. I realise that calling a film everyone's having a massive intellectual wank over "pretentious" may make me look bad by comparison, but sod it. I'd much rather watch something dumb but fun like The A-Team than this rusty bucket of spunk.

"We're not bad people. We just come from a bad place."

Shame is the story of Brandon (Michael Fassbender) a 30-something man living in New York. Brandon suffers from sexual addiction and is finding it harder and harder (fnarr, fnarr) to keep it from bleeding into his professional and social life. Things change for Brandon when his wayward sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan) comes to stay, forcing Brandon to come to terms with how he's living his life. I like the overall idea of Shame. Off the top of my head, I can't remember many films dealing with sex addiction and this certainly seems like the most realistic portrayal of it. Both Fassbender and Mulligan give really strong performances, although I think Mulligan has been better elsewhere (cough Drive cough). Fassbender's Brandon reminded me of Oldman's George Smiley in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, where you know despite the cool exterior, there's some serious emotional juice bubbling just beneath the surface. The film is well shot and there are some really interesting flourishes here and there, including one shot where Brandon is frantically binning all his nudie mags and DVDs and we get fast, flickering shots of naked flesh, ending on an arsehole (not a dig at Fass, that's actually what happens). It's like a pornographic version of the Marvel Studios logo and is my new forum avatar on several Christian websites.

I get what Shame is doing. I just don't find it that compelling or interesting. The opening 10 minutes, with Fass strutting naked around his modern, threadbare apartment and eye-fucking the shit out of a girl on the subway reminded me of Patrick Bateman in American Psycho. In fact, the opening 20 minutes could easily be the start of a serial killer film, right down to Brandon's cold, removed way of ghosting through life and seeming alone, even when in a room full of people. The film perks up a bit when Sissy comes to town and inadvertently holds up a mirror to Brandon's life. Is he as damaged and needy as she is? I didn't care. I didn't feel sorry for either of them. I really liked a bit near the end where Brandon seemingly gives up trying to fight his addiction and becomes an unapologetic poonhound, but I found this to be funny, rather than tragic.

There's one scene that outlined Shame for me. It takes place in a swanky bar where Brandon and his boss are watching Sissy perform. She sings an excruciatingly slow version of New York, New York and everyone agrees it was brilliant. Mulligan has a nice voice, but I can't stand those long, drawn-out jazz renditions of popular songs. I know some people solely want to fill their ears with that stuff and consider it a purer, stripped-down form of music, but I need something with a little bit of oomph to it- and it's the same with film. I don't mind character studies or ruminations on the human condition, but don't give me this sort of toss and tell me it's "deep".

"You come in here and you're a weight on me. Do you understand me? You're a burden."

Shame is a study of addiction with delusions of being more significant than it is. It's a long, grim slice of artistic nonsense that forgets to make you care for the characters. If this is your sort of film, fine. You take it away with you and stroke your chin red raw. I'll be over here, in this corner, having fun.

The Artist

So here's Hugo's biggest rival at the Oscars, The Artist. Most of the night will be dedicated to overpaid, undertalented bellends all slapping each other on the back and smiling like they've never slaughtered a sex worker or five in their time. In case you haven't guessed, I don't really like award season. Especially when deserving films like Drive, for instance, are almost completely overlooked in favour of mediocre "racism iz bad" flicks like The Help. The Golden Globes are a joke, the Oscars are a sham, but I quite like the BAFTAs. Anyway- here's a film that actually deserves the praise lauded upon it.

The Artist (2011)

 

Much like Hugo, The Artist's presentation could easily dismissed as a "gimmick". Some of the criticism levelled at this film has been concerning the fact that there's not much depth to the film and the black and white visuals, title cards and swingin' soundtrack are just ways of hiding this fact. These people are obviously great, big swaggering cretins. The Artist is a pastiche of storytelling in the silent era. Most films were simple love stories, because the medium was just starting to find its feet and fuck, it's what people wanted to see. It's the reason romantic comedies are still about to this very day. 

"..."

The Artist tells the story of silent movie star George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) who literally bumps into Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo) outside a movie premiere and due to his showing off and propensity for posing accidentally sets her on the path to superstardom. Meanwhile, the movie-making business is changing and people are demanding "talkies" over his more traditional output, a notion which Valentin scoffs at and Miller is more than happy to step up to, filling the megastar-shaped hole left by him. So, as I said in the first paragraph, it's basically a simple love story. Having said that, there are enough caveats and interesting twists and turns to stop the film from being entirely predictable. I thought both Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo were fantastic in their roles. Both have the silent acting styles down to a tee and are take plenty of opportunities to mug and exaggerate facial expressions. Also, James "That'll do, pig" Cromwell and John "brings the ruckus" Goodman make appearances. Oh, and Valentin's dog, who steals every scene he's in.

I really had fun watching The Artist. The novelty of watching a silent film didn't wear off and came across as downright charming. The only downside to this being that you can hear the old biddy three rows back rustling her sodding sweet wrappers with startling clarity. There were times where I forgot I was watching a silent film as I was caught up in the melodrama of it all. It's important to note that The Artist isn't the first film to do the retrospective silent thing, as Mel Brooks did it about 40 years ago with Silent Movie. It could be argued that Brooks did a lot more with the gimmick than The Artist does. However, that's really beside the point.

There's one really talked about scene where Valentin has a nightmare sequence in which sound invades his life for the first time and he finds himself unable to speak. At first I rolled my eyes because I assumed the film was going to pull a Pleasantville with sound instead of colour, and have sound slowly become the norm. Thankfully, it doesn't come to that and the sequence is remarkably well done. The film is also genuinely funny and had me smiling throughout most of the runtime. Well, at the bits that were appropriate, anyway. I found the film to be quite moving too (Fuck you, War Horse) with Valentin's fall from grace really striking a chord with me.

 "..." 

The Artist is really a unique experience. It may be a cynical callback to the infancy of Hollywood, but it really didn't seem like it to me. It's a sharply observed tribute to the silent era which managed to both charm and move me in a way very few films do. Yes, a deep love of cinema or an appreciation for stars like Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd may help, but it's a classic melodrama that entertained the living hell out of me. Plus, the ending is amazing. Go and see it whilst you still can at the cinema, it's one of the best films to see with an audience (well, unless you live in Liverpool)

Hugo

With the Oscar nominations announced, I was made aware that I hadn't even seen the two frontrunners, Hugo and The Artist. So, I organised a trip to the nearest place with a pulse and a multiplex and remedied the embarrassing situation I found myself in.

Hugo (2011)

 

The Academy are a funny old bunch, aren't they? To me, they seem like a typical elderly man character in a bad sitcom. For instance, they frequently show how out-of-touch they are, overlooking culturally important flicks in favour of schmaltzy toss. Also, they seem to forget things only to remember them much later, such as Scorsese's Oscar for The Departed and Gary Oldman's "oh, fucking finally!" type nomination this year. Coupled with The Artist, a more cynical man than I would point out that both these films are just pandering to the Academy, knowing full-well that the voters fucking love films that boil down to talking about how bloody brilliant films are and how movie-making is, like, really important, yeah? However, I'm not that cynical and am happy to say Hugo and The Artist both won me over with their charm and general rocking of the shit.

"I'd imagine the whole world was one big machine. Machines never come with any extra parts, you know. They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured, if the entire world was one big machine, I couldn't be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason."

Asa Butterfield plays the titular Hugo, an orphan boy who secretly lives in the walls of a bustling Parisian train station, constantly having to duck and avoid Inspector Gustav (Sacha Baron Cohen) who would like nothing better than to send our grubby hero off to the orphanage. Things change when Hugo meets Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz), an adventurous bookworm who is in possession of an unusual key that may unlock the secret to Hugo's prized possession- a broken automaton left by his father. I hate to sound like I've read the official namby-pamby PR blurb for Hugo, but it actually is a magical, fun-filled, family film. I'm sorry, I can't think of anything more fitting than that. It doesn't talk down to its kiddie audience and actually deals with some pretty adult stuff. The performances are all great, with Asa Butterfield doing his wide-eyed best as Hugo. Chloë Moretz aka the foul mouthed Hit-Girl from Kick-Ass, is charming as Isabelle, also nailing the British accent that everyone in 1930s Paris seems to have. Sir Ben Kingsley is predictably good, but the surprise for me was Sacha Baron Cohen. After initially dismissing his character as childish slapstick giggle fodder, I was taken aback at how much I warmed to his friendlier take on the Child Catcher. 

Hugo is a love letter to cinema. It's a tribute to the early innovators of the art and in particular, the work of Georges Méliès. This is done tastefully and isn't the frantic, uncoordinated suckjob I expected all of this "love of cinema" stuff to be. I got the feeling Scorsese has genuine admiration for these pioneers and it permeates the film. However, as enthralling as I found all of this to be, the thought occurred that all of  this may be a bit too boring for some kids. There are no "comedy" CGI creatures that run into walls or fart, for instance. There's also a nightmare sequence where Hugo turns into the metal faced automaton which may disturb the wussier kids in the audience. Still though, what the hell do I know? Haven't been a kid for a long time and don't plan on becoming a parent any time soon.

So, the 3D. The fucking 3D. I hate to say it, but it was good. Before I start telling you about how well Scorsese handled the technology and the like, I want to make it clear. Hugo has still not sold me on 3D. It's still an overpriced gimmick that I cannot wait to see the back of. Having said that, this is the best 3D integration I've seen. The opening shot is of a snowy Paris, with snowflakes falling before your eyes and the film continues impressing from there. That's not to say it's in your face the entire time. Like the best 3D, you sort of forget you're watching one until the next thing gets all up in your grill. Whilst added dimensionality usually adds something between "fuck" and "all", I get the feeling Hugo might not be quite as much fun without all the whizz-bang 3D when it comes to DVD. Time will tell on that one.

"If you've ever wondered where your dreams come from, you look around. This is where they're made."

I left Hugo with a big smile on my face. It's an immensely enjoyable family film that manages to be a fun kiddie flick and a film fan's wet dream at the same time. It's genuinely affecting at points too, which has made me think I was too soft on War Horse and all its forced sentimentality. I hope Hugo is the start of a smarter breed of kids films and that studios realise that 3D can be used to great effect when a) you have a great director in charge or b) when it suits the mood of the film. I realise I may as well wish for fucking wings, considering Ice Age 4 and Madagascar 3 are farting into your local multiplex soon, but I can dream, can't I?