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Vincent Hanna and Neil McCauley - Creatures Of Habit

In a Chicago coffee shop in 1963, detective Chuck Adamson sat down with a convicted bank robber. Cool as ice, Neil McCauley wore his careworn features with a calm attitude perfectly suited to his career criminal lifestyle. The conversation that followed would not only remain part of their lives forever, but it would also become the groundwork for one of the most intense cinematic rivalries in crime-thriller history.

The impact that Michael Mann's Heat has had on modern crime cinema cannot be underestimated or overstated. Greeted with strong reviews and profitable box-office returns, the film was the end result of several years of obsessive research from the director, who sought to bring the greatest crime saga since The Godfather to the big screen. Since its release in 1995, the film has been a source of inspiration for filmmakers who have sought to replicate its character driven drama, stylish visuals, and hard hitting action sequences; the biggest examples of which include The Dark Knight by Christopher Nolan, Ben Affleck's The Town, and Den Of Thieves, directed by Christian Gudegast in his debut feature film. Even the Grant Theft Auto series has nicked or paid direct homage to Heat across its numerous installments. Many of these films have been successful in their own right, while others have tried and utterly failed to understand what made Mann’s magnum opus so involving.

So, with such strong influences still being felt almost 25 years on, what is it that makes Mann's film so bloody good, even after two decades?

The film has a relatively straightforward setup; the seasoned detective, at the top of his game, goes on the trail of a master thief who also happens to be at his career peak. We've seen this particular plot many times before and many times since, so it's not a big deal. What is a big deal, however, is that here, the seasoned detective and the master thief are played by Al Pacino and Robert De Niro, respectively. Two actors who, like their characters, are at their best and are finally sharing the screen together after they both appeared in separate eras in Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather Part 2.

Not only that, but the leading heavyweights are supported by a large Altman-style ensemble cast that includes Val Kilmer, Jon Voight, Ashley Judd, Diane Venora, Tom Sizemore, Denis Haysbert, Amy Brenneman, Natalie Portman, and William Fichtner.

On a technical level, the film is outstanding – featuring blindingly beautiful visuals from the lenses of cinematographer Dante Spinotti, and a great soundtrack with some stunning work from Elliot Goldenthal. Heat also features several iconic gun-play sequences that are deservedly held up as the standard for which gun-play sequences have since been measured against – including what is still the finest heistus-interruptus in a Hollywood motion picture. Mann opted to use live-location sound for these shootouts rather than dub them in post-production – and it makes a big difference.

But, while all of these aspects are important to the film's success and absolutely deserving of days upon days worth of hyperbolic praise - it's the level of detail and depth that Mann affords the screenplay and its characters that ensures that the film stands the test of time.

While Heat is certainly a long film (its run-time comes within a breath of 160 minutes), Mann uses every second of that run-time to create a fully-functioning universe. Using his large ensemble cast, Mann creates a wonderful delicatessen of characters, almost none of whom are wasted in his exploration of cops, criminals and the effects of their chosen lifestyles on those around them. What we end up with is something very far from a typical 90s action film – a three hour opera, with a poetic insight into the conflicting themes of duality, loneliness, stubbornness, habit and obsession.

The inspiration for Heat was given to Mann by Chuck Adamson, who worked as an advisor on many of Mann's early films. Adamson, who had pursued McCauley for nearly a year after their Chicago coffee shop conversation, inadvertently caught up with his target while responding to an armed-robbery call. He discovered it was McCauley behind the incident and in the altercation that followed was forced to shoot him dead.

Mann first attempted to bring the tale to life in LA Takedown, a project that was intended as a pilot for a NBC TV Series. It was turned into a TV Film after the network passed on the idea, and the story was unfortunately restricted by budget limitations and TV production values. Thankfully, Mann got the opportunity to remake his film in 1995, with Takedown now mostly remembered as the dry-run for what he would eventually produce six years later; the increased budget and expansive run-time allowing Mann to develop his characters in line with the inspiration given to him by Adamson.

In Heat, Mann lays out the some fundamental differences between the two main characters during the opening scenes. In the first moments of the film, we meet Neil McCauley as he covertly steals an ambulance to be used in the film's opening heist. Focused and determined, yet always cool and calm, De Niro infuses a strong sense of professionalism to McCauley, even just by his movement and stoic expression. Jumping forward to when we first meet Vincent Hanna - who was loosely based off Adamson and an unnamed FBI agent, and here played by Pacino - Mann decides to open on him showing his more passionate and intimate side as he makes love to his wife Justine, an aspect to his character that would be a point of contention in the plot later on.

After McCauley and his crew messily pull off a daring daylight robbery – a sequence that affirms Mann's expertise at crafting a suspenseful action scene, Hanna is thrown on to their scent. The sudden brutal violence of the opening heist paints a black and white picture of the characters – McCauley is the bad guy, and Hanna is the hero.

But it is from here, despite this simplistic set-up, that Mann begins to fully explore the duality of these two characters as they move about their daily business. He explores the shades of grey that overlap between the two – McCauley is not just an evil bank robber who is okay with executing security guards when he has to; nor is Hanna the straightforward, halo-lit detective with a heart of gold.

Mann uses contrasting visual and verbal motifs to explore Hanna and McCauley's lifestyles throughout the film. McCauley lives in what can only be described a shell - a house for a man not planning to stay there for too much longer; while Hanna's home is shown as cluttered and crowded, similar to a typical family home, though he only cares about one possession - his television set. Hanna has a strained relationship with Justine, his third wife, which is no accident – because he dedicates himself to and obsesses over the criminals that he hunts almost 24/7. Hanna shows warmth, affection and concern for his stepdaughter, Lauren; sometimes even more love than he shows to his wife as the story progresses. It's this relationship that strikes Vincent the most as his step-daughter's behavior veers into the suicidal in the film’s final third thanks to her neglectful biological parents.

McCauley, by comparison, is a man who lives by his own set of rules and initially does not seem to seek that type of love in his life. He maintains emotional distance to most people he meets, and is a rather distrustful and paranoid person when it comes to women.  As he becomes aware of the malfunctioning relationship of his only real friend, Chris, McCauley explains his logic:

However, McCauley begins to break his own rules as the film progresses. During a dinner scene early on in the film, Mann allows the camera to linger on McCauley's crew – all of whom have spouses and/or families. De Niro's expressions during this scene suggest a hidden longing for some form of companionship, something he neither wanted nor understood the need for previously. That need is provided for thanks to the ray of sunshine that is Eady, played by Amy Brenneman.

Here, Mann uses a very simple but effective technique to show Neil's transition from paranoid and suspicious of people to more sociable and warm in the scene where McCauley first meets Eady. By shooting the first half of the scene from behind, with only rear portions of the characters visible, Mann heightens a sense of disconnect between them. Then, as McCauley realises his misjudgement, the camera moves around to the front, timed perfectly as he introduces himself and attempts to make amends for his bad manners, opening himself up to her.

Despite being billed as the ultimate showdown between De Niro and Pacino, Heat only has two major scenes where the two actors are actually together. On paper, in a 160 minute film, that would seem like a waste. However, the relationship between the two characters is built throughout the film without them needing to share the screen together. Mann spends nearly half the film playing cat and mouse with his two characters – with one of the best moments being the attempted robbery of a precious metals depository; a scene which is also based on a real life event featuring Adamson and the real Neil McCauley.

After so many close shaves between the two, it all builds to a satisfying payoff; Mann's re-enactment of Adamson's encounter with McCauley in the Chicago coffee shop. At this stage of the film, Mann has already set-up everything we need to know about these men's methods, motives and attitudes. By opting to be patient in his build-up, Mann gives the scene a massive sense of importance as these two behemoths size each other up and lay their cards out on the table. One of the key things that Mann takes from the real life conversation between Adamson and McCauley is that they spent a long time not talking about the fact that one was chasing the other. For a few brief moments, though they were enemies, they were just two guys having coffee and talking about life.

One of the most impressive things about the coffee shop scene is that it completely encapsulates the character work done thus far and then sets up the stakes for the rest of the film. Hanna and McCauley admit to each other that if they ever cross paths again, one of them will likely die. The adds even more suspense and tension to the inevitable clash between the two. What's also interesting here is that Hanna and McCauley are both very open about the sacrifices that they make in order to do what they do. Neither are open to change, and are at peace with the fact that they must continue on their paths until one of them manages to best the other. There's a strong sense of respect among the pair, despite the fact that they are enemies meeting each other for the first time.

“I don’t know how to do anything else.” “Neither do I.” “I don’t much want to either.” “Neither do I.”

And of course, they eventually come close to killing each other during the film's big shootout sequence, which occurs only ten minutes later. McCauley and his crew, sold out by a tip to Hanna and his team, are forced to shoot their way through an ambush set by police outside of the bank they've just robbed. While both sides take casualties, their promise to ensure that only one man is left standing is left unfulfilled.

While many films would continue to ramp up the pace, putting their foot on the accelerator towards a big finish, Mann allows his film to breathe by showing the fallout that the catastrophic shootout has on the lives of the perpetrators, as well as Hanna – whose marriage at this point would be best compared to his television set. The guts of half an hour is well spent on tying up loose character threads in a satisfying manner before switching the focus back on to the relationship between the two leads.

McCauley hunts for the man who sold out his crew, exacting his revenge on everyone but former crew member Waingro.  Before that, in a moment of character defining blissful ignorance, McCauley arrives to Eady's apartment still in criminal mode, acting as if everything is normal – completely oblivious to the fact that this is not a normal thing for an innocent and sweet person like her to experience. Despite her initial attempts to get away from him, McCauley manages to convince Eady - now obviously aware of his true profession - to stay with him and they continue with their plan to run away together. Hanna, meanwhile, continues his hunt for McCauley - a hunt that leads him to Waingro, too. In the space of a few scenes, Mann shows how oblivious Hanna has been to the effects of his job on those around him, while on the flipside, McCauley seems happy to try something new.

McCauley, on the home run to freedom with Eady but now aware of Waingro's location, gives in to temptation and chooses to go after him. Hanna’s marriage suffers complete destruction when he finds out that Justine has cheated on him. Later, following Lauren's suicide attempt, Hanna and Justine both realise that their marriage is doomed, and they mutually decide to part ways. Vincent then literally runs back into action when he hears of trouble at Waingro's airport hotel, caused by McCauley. Now, after a brief moment of growth, both men are back to their old habits again, their behavior so fixed that they are incapable of escaping from the collision course that they’ve both been set on since the first moments of the film.

Following McCauley's successful assassination of Waingro, the coffee shop prophecy becomes a reality. Hanna arrives just as McCauley walks out the service entrance of the hotel. Spotting each other in the distance almost instantly, McCauley is forced to choose between Eady and his previously proudly spoken 30 seconds flat rule. McCauley reluctantly leaves her, opting to flee and save himself. I feel like here is the appropriate time to mention that Amy Brenneman was absolutely superb in this film and here in particular, sells the confused heartbreak of her character incredibly well, without any need dialogue. Her love for McCauley is at conflict with the reality that he's done some horrible things in his life - even since she first met him, in fact.

Hanna pursues like a rabid-dog, chasing McCauley across the airport landscape and forcing one final game of cat and mouse between the two. McCauley, on the back foot once again, attempts to ambush Hanna by lying in wait at the end of the main LAX runway with his pistol ready and waiting to fire. The game finally comes to an end as McCauley, giving himself away under the runway lights, is shot multiple times by Hanna.

Heat closes with a remarkably sombre but powerful moment. McCauley outstretches his hand to Hanna, who takes it and holds it as his adversary finally succumbs to his wounds. Hanna is, however, clearly very far from happy. He still holds immense respect for McCauley - if only for the things his pursuit of the master thief has revealed about himself. As such, the look upon his face does not suggest a victory. Instead, it merely suggests acceptance. This is how it is. This is how it was always going to be. They said it themselves. And both, unfortunately, were too stubborn to have it go any other way.

Heat, on a technical level, has a library of strengths that on their own make it a powerful piece of cinema. As mentioned already, it has beautiful visuals, a great soundtrack, some iconic set-piece sequences, and a fantastic cast. But what really ties it all together is the level of detail and research that Michael Mann put into the screenplay and his leading characters. His obsession with the real-life material supplied to him by Chuck Adamson is evident, and compliments Mann’s affinity for murky and conflicted personality traits in his characters perfectly. With Vincent Hanna and Neil McCauley, Mann crafted opposing creatures of habit; two men so good at what they do, they were terrible at everything else.

[craigmoore-blog]

THE UNDERLINING FAILURE OF WARNER BROS AND THEIR DC FILM UNIVERSE

Poisonous work environments, an incompetent studio, well-meaning directors, rushed scripts, a rebellious mustache, and the Wonder Woman who nearly saved them all.

Just under five years ago, following the finale to Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, Warner Bros. released their Superman reboot, Man Of Steel. Directed by Zack Snyder with Nolan serving as Executive Producer, Henry Cavill’s modern version of the Big Blue Boy Scout was met with a polarised reception; many praised Snyder’s visual style and the blockbuster action, along with the attempts made to fit Clark Kent in to the paranoid, “all seeing and all knowing” internet age, as well Michael Shannon’s take on Krypton’s genocidal General Zod. Just as many people, however, found these attempts to be dour, plodding and far too clinical - completely missing the warmth and heart that made Christopher Reeves’ Superman so special in the 70s. (For the record, going forward, you should know I am firmly amongst the former, despite not being a big fan of it when it came out. It has grown on me immensely.)

Despite the mixed reviews, the film was a modest success at the box office, earning almost $700 million (a big jump from Superman Returns’ $390million in 2006) and was considered by many fans to be a reasonably strong start from which to build upon. And while the box-office returns would be more than acceptable for a first film in almost any franchise (Batman Begins, Nolan’s first Batman film, made about half that), Warner Bros. viewed it as a lacklustre start to their rebooted franchise, and sought ways to improve upon the film’s “modest” success. Man Of Steel 2 seemed like an exciting prospect for many.

Before we get too far down the rabbit hole, lets take a small step back to 2008. Marvel Studios, under the guidance of their President Kevin Feige, have just released Iron Man, directed by Jon Favreau and starring Robert Downey Jnr. as the title character - a billionaire weapons manufacturer and technology developer named Tony Stark who is captured by a terrorist organisation in Afghanistan. With a piece of shrapnel about to enter his heart and kill him, Stark designs and assembles a weaponised suit of magnetised armour which allows him to escape. Upon returning home, Stark abandons his industrialised ways to make a difference as the superhero Iron Man. The film received rave reviews, with Downey Jnr. being lauded for his performance as the CGI-enhanced Shellhead, and it went on to gross over $500 million worldwide.

As the first film in what has popularly become known as Phase One of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man laid the groundwork for what was to evolve over the next ten years for Marvel Studios. Biannually, Feige and his studio released one film after another, beginning with solo adventures and origin stories like Iron Man, Iron Man 2 Captain America: The First Avenger, Thor, and The Incredible Hulk, alluding to a greater universe without directly hinging each story on other character’s involvement. After four years and five films, Marvel Studios brought together their band of heroes for their first team-up adventure - the Joss Whedon helmed The Avengers. A box office smash, The Avengers pulled in nearly $1.5billion at the global box office and received strong reviews, with critics praising the seamless and organic culmination of the characters previous trajectories into the same story.

Following on from the success of The Avengers, Marvel then expanded their cinematic universe by bringing in new characters and continuing to evolve their existing ones - Phase Two included Guardians Of The Galaxy and Ant-Man, alongside Iron Man 3, Thor: The Dark World, and Captain America: The Winter Soldier which led themselves into Avengers: Age Of Ultron, again directed by Joss Whedon. This is the template that Marvel have followed right up until the very moment that you read this article. Feige runs a tight ship; giving directors just enough room to create something for themselves, while maintaining the overarching goal that the series will be heading towards next.

What is the relevance of all that to DC, you ask? Well, we jump forward to the Summer of 2014, where Warner Bros decided to amp up their plans for their DC properties following Man Of Steel using the Marvel model. At the San Diego Comic-Con, Zack Snyder took to the stage to announce that he would be directing the follow-up to his Superman film. There was further rapture among the attendees as it was announced that Warner Bros. were using the film to launch their DC Extended Universe and that the sequel was to be Batman v Superman: Dawn Of Justice; Batman and Superman were to share a cinema screen for the first time in history, with Ben Affleck playing the The Dark Knight opposite Henry Cavill. The film would also mark the first big-screen appearance of Wonder Woman, played by Gal Gadot. 

On top of that, David Ayer, the scriptwriter/director behind films such as Training Day, Harsh Times, End Of Watch and Fury, was given the job of bringing Suicide Squad to the big screen for the first time. A rather left-field project considering the universe’s infancy; Suicide Squad focuses on a rogue gallery of villains (mainly from the Batman universe) who are forced together to complete a near-impossible mission for the Government. The film had an ensemble cast which included Will Smith, Margot Robbie, Viola Davis, Jai Courtney, and Jared Leto as the new version of The Joker, Batman’s arch-nemesis.

Sounds great right? Well, unfortunately we all know how it turned out. In a desperate bid to achieve Marvel level incomes in a much shorter space of time, Warner Bros. essentially coerced Snyder into packing Batman v Superman with nods, Easter Eggs and groundwork for their planned Justice League film (which would end up being released in November 2017) as well as teasing The Flash, Aquaman, Cyborg and many subplots lifted from various comic book arcs. As a result of this constant studio meddling, the film became a bloated behemoth of absolutely mind-blowing proportions. It’s first rough cut was nearly four hours long. At this point, Warner Bros. realised that the film could not be any longer than two and a half hours - this was to ensure a maximum number of screenings could be held on any given day during its theatrical run; more tickets, more money. 

Snyder originally intended to tell a modern Superman story - where Kal-El would slowly and progressively accept his destiny as the Man Of Steel in a world that doesn’t trust heroes anymore, and sees him as a potentially dangerous illegal alien (cough). All very ambitious and interesting, despite the often heavy handed religious metaphors that he uses to frame the character through. However, the compromises forced upon him by a naturally money-driven but irrationally thinking studio resulted in his arc for Cavill’s version of the character being condensed, diluted and sucked of any and all impact - despite his best efforts to provide Superman with the strong sense of morality and righteousness that the character was known for. 

When Batman v Superman was released in March 2016, it was greeted with strongly negative reviews, and its record-breaking opening weekend ($400million+) quickly tapered off and it finished its run with a $873 million - earning a profit but falling short of the studio’s $1billion+ expectations. Taking into account the film’s massive budget, rumoured to be just south of $400million, this final tally was a massive blow for both the studio and for Snyder, who suffered the wrath of online critics and keyboard-happy but overall very disgruntled fans. An extended “Ultimate” Cut was released on home video, which added nearly 30 minutes of footage - but while this certainly improved the film overall by reinstating vital subplots and was much better received by fans, it didn’t remove the bad taste left behind by the version that was released in theatres.

Suicide Squad didn’t fare much better in the end, either. In order to meet the August 2016 release date, David Ayer was given less than six weeks to write the script for the film before it needed to start filming. Upon the reveal of the first teaser at the San Diego Comic-Con in 2015, many fans reacted negatively to its dour, dark tone. Following the release of a much more brisk and light trailer (complete with “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen thumping away on the soundtrack) in January of the following year, the studio decided to go back and “add some jokes” along with more action to the film through re-shoots. It was after these re-shoots that the film’s marketing campaign began to pick up speed, with a number of pulpy trailers making a conscious effort to emphasise how much fun Suicide Squad was going to be following the criticisms of over-seriousness towards Batman v Superman in March. The re-jigging and re-adjustments did not end there, however.

Warner Bros., worried that Ayer’s cut of the film would not meet the expectations they had set, had the film taken away from him in secret. All shot material was handed over to Trailer Park, the same company who had been responsible for editing together the well-received trailers for the film. Ayer, meanwhile, turned in his version. Warner Bros. took both versions and amalgamated the two. The result? The visually incoherent, music video style film that was released in theatres and ended up receiving the same brutal reviews that Snyder’s film had. Suicide Squad did however make significant bank for the studio - it brought in $745million against a $200million budget. Ayer would go on to publically claim that it was still his film, and that the released cut was true to “his vision”, despite evidence to the contrary and claims from various sources (including Jared Leto) that there was enough footage excised “to make another movie”. The film also had an Extended Cut on home release, but it wasn’t nearly as impactful as the Ultimate Cut for Snyder’s superhero smackdown.

In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a pattern emerging here. And if you genuinely hadn’t noticed, then just wait til we start talking about Justice League.

The one slam-dunk that Warner Bros. have had so far came in 2017. No, it wasn’t Justice League. It was Wonder Woman. Gal Gadot’s version of Diana of Themyscira made such a strong impact in Batman v Superman that she deservedly received her own solo film - an origin story set during the First World War. Directed by Patty Jenkins, the film became the highest grossing female-directed film of all time (as well as the highest grossing Superhero origin story) with a take home of over $800million worldwide. The film was also acclaimed by critics; praise was afforded to Gadot’s performance as the title character and the chemistry between her and Chris Pine, the story, score and Jenkins’ direction. Jenkins had to fight for a number of sequences to be included, including the now famous “No Man’s Land” scene which features Diana taking on a horde of German soldiers who have besieged a French town. Warner Bros. immediately greenlit a sequel (to be directed by Jenkins) and pushed Gadot front and centre for marketing materials on Justice League - where she essentially took over the team leader position usually occupied by either Batman or Superman. Wonder Woman became the DCU’s bright spark of hope.

Zack Snyder immediately began work on Justice League, the DC Film Universe equivalent to The Avengers, after he had finished work on Batman v Superman. The ensemble team-up film began shooting in London in the Spring of 2016. The relationship between Warner Bros. and Snyder could be described as shaky at best by this stage, and the negative press following the release of Batman v Superman going into the start of shooting for Justice League was constantly hanging over the heads of all involved. Snyder (along with his wife, Deborah), as a producer, was the official creative driving force behind the universe up til that point. Unofficially, as you will have gathered from the above, there was no singular driving force. However, prior to the release of Suicide Squad, Geoff Johns was drafted in by Warner Bros. under the title of Chief Creative Officer of DC Films. Johns is a well known comic-book scribe and has penned works for a variety of DC characters, including The Flash, Aquaman and Superman. A lot of creative control was wrestled away from the Snyders, despite filming on Justice League not yet being complete. A continuing trend of requests and alterations were made by the studio. Despite this, filming for Justice League wrapped in October 2016, after a six-month shoot. Re-shoots were planned for early 2017, with Avengers director/writer Joss Whedon coming on-board to assist Snyder with “adding more jokes” to what was described as a film that was tonally continuing the motifs established in Man Of Steel and Batman v Superman.

Approaching what we thought was the middle of a long period of post-production work, Snyder announced he was stepping away from the project to be with his family - as his daughter had recently committed suicide. The decision was presented as an mutual one, with Warner Bros. insisting that Whedon remain on the film to finish Snyder’s “vision”. Whedon then proceeded to re-shoot approximately 30-35% of the film, change the ending and remove several subplots and key scenes that had been already shot. Henry Cavill had to re-shoot 90% of his scenes as Superman, a fact very-obviously revealed by the awful digital removal of his (rather wonderful) mustache that he was contractually obligated to grow and keep for Mission Impossible: Fallout.

The real kicker here is that not all of this is accurate; it’s merely the official version. In the months following Batman v Superman’s release, Warner Bros. executives were eager to remove Snyder from Justice League. Their Head Of Production at the time was Greg Silverman, who refused to fire Snyder. Silverman was later removed by Warner Bros. CEO Kevin Tsujihara. In January 2017, Snyder was fired from Justice League - with Silverman gone, Snyder was finished; he never even got to finalise a cut of the film he had been planning for nearly two years. Obviously fearing more negative publicity towards the film, Snyder’s removal was kept under wraps until the death of Snyder’s daughter became public knowledge, and at that point Warner Bros. choose to reveal that he had stepped down to be with his family. Make from that what you will.

In November 2017, like Batman v Superman and Suicide Squad before it, Justice League was released to miserable reviews. Critics and audiences pulled the film apart - citing its uneven tone, short running time and poor pacing, a boring and underdeveloped villain, and subpar visual effects. While a number of people considered Whedon’s more joke-focused dialogue to be an improvement, many found it completely out of place with the visual look and feel of the film, as well as being completely out of character (referring to Batman). Despite the amount of tinkering done to the original version of the film (which also had an hour cut from the runtime as well as the other structural changes), Snyder’s name remained on the credits as director. Whedon received a screenwriting credit. Factoring in the re-shoots on top of its extensive and expensive principal photography, the film apparently cost Warner Bros. nearly $300million before accounting for marketing costs, making it one of the most expensive films of all time. So expensive was it, that it would have had to generate over $700million just to break even thanks to distribution revenue shares.

Justice League made $656million worldwide.

Meanwhile, Black Panther - a character first introduced to the Marvel Cinematic Universe in 2016′s Captain America: Civil War but who I think it’s fair to say was not very well known compared to say, Batman or Superman - is on track for his solo film to open to $170million in its opening weekend alone. Avengers: Infinity War is looking like it’s going to be one of the biggest films of all-time, both physically (with over 90 speaking main cast members) and financially (it’s likely to cross the $2billion mark by the time it’s all dried up).

What will Warner Bros. learn from this? Probably nothing. What should they learn from this? Well, it seems that the studio executives watched the Marvel Cinematic Universe develop with one eye watching the spreadsheets, but with no idea on how you get the numbers on those sheets to spike they way they did. Instead of organically building on the foundation laid by Snyder with Man Of Steel (a film that admittedly is not perfect but is still very solid), a rush job was enacted in order to join the Billion Dollar club as quickly as possible - a feat they have yet to accomplish despite having films that have such iconic characters in them. Unfortunately, the damage seems to be done. Ben Affleck seems to be on his way out as the Caped Crusader due to having multiple scripts for his proposed solo film rejected along with his deteriorating relationship with the studio - a massive blow considering how strong he was in the role in the face of frustratingly under-developed material given to him. The only DC films currently guaranteed are Aquaman, Shazam, and Wonder Woman 2, while both The Batman and Man Of Steel 2 look to be going nowhere. Quite incredible, really.

The overall consensus at the moment is that while these films will continue to be loosely connected in some way or another, going forward they will ultimately be standalone projects. Warner Bros. seem to be signalling that they will instead focus on hiring higher-end filmmakers and making good films again. However, the allure of the ensemble superhero film will always be there as long as connected movie universes continue to be popular, and the flipside to working with higher-end filmmakers on standalone projects is that they will always want more control - just like Christopher Nolan did on The Dark Knight trilogy, which were successful thanks to the fact that there was little interference. It’s telling that the two highest rated DC Universe films, Man Of Steel and Wonder Woman, were the ones least meddled in. For the moment, though, the DC Universe seems to be stalled over very high ground. Marvel fans should count themselves lucky that they have Kevin Feige.

It’s a massive shame that instead of sitting here typing about how great this universe is, I’m wondering when the final nail is going to be put into its coffin. What a waste. Many people online will be quite happy to lay the blame at Zack Snyder’s feet, but considering what his original plans for the development of the universe were compared to what we got, I find it hard to not acknowledge that there is a serious problem at the top of the food chain concerning how these films, and the people behind them, have been handled and treated. One thing is for sure - these films and “their vision” will likely continue to divide critics and audiences alike for some time. It’s not an S, in our boardroom it means $.

[craigmoore-blog]

LOGAN, you still have time.

I don’t write here as much as I used to, save for the odd moment of inspiration or desire to make a point. Every now and then, however, a film comes along that needs to be talked about. A film that I would happily stay up talking about until the sun rose the next morning. 

LOGAN is one of those films. As part of the clunky, muddled and often infuriatingly mediocre X-Men franchise, LOGAN sits in an awkward place of being the final appearance for series’ regulars Hugh Jackman and Patrick Stewart in between the ongoing instalments of the younger versions of the X-Men (McAvoy, Fassbender, Lawrence and co.) set in the 60′s, 70′s and 80′s.

LOGAN arrives with the style and grace of an old-locomotive moving through the empty landscape. From a script co-written with Scott Frank and Michael Green, returning Wolverine director James Mangold again infuses his Western genre sensibilities into every frame of LOGAN.

In the near future, mutants are on the verge of extinction. The X-Men no longer exist, and James “Logan” Howlett - formerly known as Wolverine - lives in isolation on the Mexican border with mutant outcast Caliban and an exiled Charles Xavier, whose mind has deteriorated with old age and requires constant medicating in order to control. Logan spends his nights drinking and driving a limousine for the rich and wealthy, hoping to earn enough money for himself and Charles to live out their last days in peace. Of course, that dream is soon shattered when a young girl named Laura enters his life with familiar powers that put Logan and Xavier on a collision course with a shadowy force known as the Reavers, led by Donald Pierce.

With the unexpected success of the R-Rated DEADPOOL last year, and the knowledge that Jackman was soon to retract his claws for the last time, 20th Century Fox gave a determined Mangold full freedom to brutally explore the Wolverine’s world. LOGAN is a surprisingly mature, emotional, low-key affair that exchanges the “end of the world” stakes that cause so many X-Men films to blend together in favour of a redemption story for its central character and biggest draw. Jackman has appeared in all of the X-Men films in one way or another, bringing every ounce of his charisma, charm and a ripped torso to each performance. In LOGAN, however, the leash has been unclipped from him. He’s a beast, but he’s our beast. Jackman is superb - no matter how gnarly and battered he looks or how violent he acts, you always root for him. 

LOGAN is a film about the inevitability of time, about self-destruction, and about the future (both hopeful and literal). The tone of the film is set out straight away in a visceral opening sequence that both shocks and thrills. Opening on Logan asleep in his limo after a night’s work, the scene reveals several Latino gang-members attempting to steal his tires. A tired Logan attempts to reason with them, but after a shotgun blast to the chest, Mangold gives us a glimpse at what the audience have craved after 17 years of PG-13 violence - severed limbs, sliced necks and stabbed skulls. But to say LOGAN is just an exercise in violence would do the film a major disservice. In that same sequence, Logan’s famous claws - once shiny, slick and clean - are now stiff and slow; one of them even needs to be pulled out manually by hand when it painfully gets stuck. Logan’s version of arthritis.

Logan’s greatest strength - his adamantium skeleton - is now his greatest weakness, poisoning his body and causing his once immediate healing ability to slow down. When he takes that shotgun blast to the chest, he really feels it. Director Mangold offered a more friendly exploration of Wolverine’s mortality in THE WOLVERINE in 2013, but here he takes those motifs and cranks them up to 11. One of the major reasons why it works so much better in LOGAN is not because of the rating, but because of Charles Xavier. Whereas the 2013 film featured a lonesome Wolverine stuck in Japan - a culture he didn’t really know too much about and surrounded by people he didn’t really know - LOGAN forces the relationship between Professor X and Wolverine front and centre and brings it all the way round to a compelling, powerful conclusion. “You are such a disappointment”, Xavier utters to Logan early on, in the midst of a brief dementia attack which causes the Earth to freeze. The film toys with the idea that Xavier, a man with the most powerful mind in the world, is now classed as a weapon of mass destruction because of his degenerative disease. Stewart, in one of his finest performances, brings Xavier full-circle. The weight of the bad thoughts in the world is present in the character’s eyes, just like the weight of all of the men Logan has killed are present in his.

Mangold spends time establishing the world that is now without mutants after the previous films spent so long exploring whether they would be fully accepted by humanity. The story kicks into high gear once Laura, aka X-23, arrives on the scene. An escapee from a testing facility guarded by Pierce and his Reavers on behalf of the corporation Transigen, Laura is a similar beast to Logan. “She’s like you, very much like you”, says a paternal Xavier following the reveal of Laura’s violent skill set. Newcomer Dafne Keen is essentially mute throughout the whole film, but manages to deliver a beautiful performance which reminded me of Dakota Fanning in its constrained method of expression. Everything good about acting comes from the eyes, and Keen uses her hazel-coloured pupils to full effect. Anger, rage, love. It’s all there.

The relationship between Logan and Laura develops organically, with Mangold offering plenty of quiet sequences in between the blood spilling. Logan’s inner conflict - his wish to abandon the world that has destroyed him and everything he loves, and his urge to help Laura and any remaining mutants out there - is fully fleshed out. His use of the classic western, SHANE, as a metaphor for Logan’s journey is inspired, as is the existence of X-Men comic-books within the film to further the plot, as Laura searches for a mutant safe-haven known as Eden. Although set in the near future, LOGAN features many themes and motifs that are relevant today. Mexico and Canada are presented as places of safety from secret forces who wish to quash immigrant escapees in an oddly fitting fictional counterpart to the current political climate in the United States. But here, Muslim extremists are not the enemy. Mutant children have taken their place, fighting their creators.

These plot details give LOGAN dramatic heft, the likes of which are not often present in a mega-budget superhero blockbuster. Attempting to implement such real-life feelings into comic book stories can be hit or miss. For every film like THE DARK KNIGHT, there is a BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE, which took itself so seriously that it became very dour at points. LOGAN, thankfully, lies closer to the former. It is easily the best X-MEN film ever made and one of the best blockbusters in the last twenty-years. A glorious ode to the western genre, featuring some beautiful location photography, a subtle score by Marco Beltrami that has echoes of guitar and blues, and crackling, bone crunching action sequences that feature minimal CGI. The villains are slightly underdeveloped compared to the main characters and left to do their evil deeds in the background (whether that’s for better or for worse is down to personal taste) but the payoffs to each and every setup unexpectedly tug on the heartstrings and use every second of the 17 years since Jackman first put on the dogtags to its advantage.

LOGAN ends with one of the most striking final shots I’ve seen in a long time. It’s as definitive an ending as a comic-book film can manage, but still manages to hold on to a sense of hope. Mangold’s metaphors, laid out loosely in 2013 with THE WOLVERINE, have cemented themselves and finished off Jackman’s tenure with the definitive Wolverine film. It’s a beautiful end to his time as the character, causing conflicting emotions as the credits roll - that was amazing, but why did they have to wait til the last one to knock it out of the park?

Just goes to show that you still, always, have time.

[craigmoore-blog]

Nobody Does It Better?

On the 5th October 1962, at the London Pavillion, a British icon transported himself from the pages of Ian Fleming’s best-selling novels and on to the big screen. At the edge of a baccarat table in a casino somewhere in England, Sean Connery announced himself to the world as James Bond with the class, assurance and snobbery that would come to define the character over the next twenty-four films and fifty years.

Dr. No, the very first Bond film based off Fleming’s book of the same name, was a massive success - it’s box office intake was quadruple that of its budget despite initial mixed critical reception. It introduced several (but not all) of the elements that the franchise would become famous for; Terence Young’s lavish direction made perfect use of Cuba’s beautiful shorelines and established Connery and the female lead Ursula Andress as two of the biggest sex icons of the 60′s. It brought to life the first of the franchise’s enduring villains, Dr. Julius No (played by Joseph Wiseman), and also gave audiences their first look at Production designer Ken Adams’ elaborate visual style that would become a hallmark of both the series and cinema of the era in general. And, to top it all off, the conducting prowess of future Academy Award winner John Barry gave rise to one of film’s great signature music themes.

These successes were elevated even further over the next four films. The popularity of Connery (a man who Fleming originally disapproved of as Bond) skyrocketed until he left the role after the release of You Only Live Twice in 1967. The technical aspects and overall vibe of the 60′s Bond films were innovative and groundbreaking for the time. The introduction of the character through the point of view of the now iconic gunbarrel sequence, and the title sequence designed by Maurice Binder accompanied by the specifically written title song, as well as franchise’s use of gadgets and technology was unlike anything audiences had seen up until that point.

The creative and box office high that Bond went through under Connery in the 60′s was never truly matched by any of the five actors who stepped into his tuxedo, but the series still enjoyed great success thanks to the formula that was established previously - the mix of the master villain with a diabolical scheme of destruction or domination, glamorous locations and beautiful women, fine liquor tasting, fast cars, gadgets and elaborate action sequences all ensured that audiences kept returning to the theatre to watch James Bond save the world. A British icon became a worldwide phenomenon.

However, somewhere along the way, Bond stopped being the trend-setter he once was. Each actor imprinted their own personality on the character, sure, but it wasn’t the acting that became the problem. When Moonraker was released in 1979, it was a blatantly obvious attempt to cash in on the popularity of Star Wars, released two years previously. Bond was no longer the innovator.

By the time Pierce Brosnan hung up his holster and handed in his tuxedo after 2002′s Die Another Day, it was time for the series to hit the reset button and fully reboot itself. Even by the franchise’s crazy standards, the Irishman’s last outing featured invisible cars, ice palaces and tsunamis that were more suited to the ridiculousness of Vin Diesel’s xXx instead of Bond. Brosnan has successfully brought the character across the fallen Berlin Wall with GoldenEye - a fan-favourite entry and one of the biggest films of 1995, but poor scripts and a bigger focus on 90′s blockbuster action as opposed to mystery and intrigue left a large portion of fans increasingly frustrated. The changes in the real world following events such as 9/11 and the Iraq War led to a change of taste - overblown, fantasy driven action heroes were not popular for the time being and Bond found itself temporarily out of fashion. The sudden popularity of a certain Matt Damon-led action franchise changed audience expectations when it came to western action cinema.

When Daniel Craig controversially stepped into the role in 2006 with Casino Royale (a modernised adaptation of Fleming’s first Bond novel), it was met with acclaim and became the second biggest Bond film of all time. Craig was praised with bringing some humanity to the character and for grounding the film with some semblance of realism. While his sophomore effort, Quantum of Solace, wasn’t nearly as well received (many felt it too closely resembled a Bourne film rather than a Bond film), it was also a huge success. It wasn’t until the release of Skyfall in 2012, however, that “Bondmania” was to make its first appearance since the Connery era. In the franchise’s 50th anniversary, the anticipation for the film was massive. Months of marketing time was spent making sure every corner of the world knew there was a new Bond film coming soon. As a result of this (and the glowing reviews upon release), Skyfall became the highest grossing Bond film of all time (unadjusted for inflation) and the first to make more than a Billion dollars at the box office. Director Sam Mendes returned in 2015 with Spectre, which was met with a mixed reception due to its retconning of the four previous Craig storylines and its inconsistent tone and performances. Despite its flaws, Spectre still grossed almost 900 million dollars worldwide.

However, the mixed reception of both critics and fans to the latest film has brought up many questions about the enduring creative viability of the series in general. As even the most brief search on Google will testify, several horrible films have made incredibly huge profits over the years. Now, I am not saying that Quantum of Solace, Skyfall and Spectre are horrible films (Okay, Quantum is pretty bad) but they most certainly have revealed the noose that hangs around Eon Productions’ neck. And that noose is the formula that they themselves created in the 60′s - the “Bond Formula”.

As I mentioned before, when we refer to the “Bond Formula”, we are referring to the iconic elements established in the Connery era - the template that nearly every film followed until Casino Royale in 2006. Gadgets, Martinis, Cars and Women. However, Craig’s first film dispensed with nearly all of these elements or at least strived to include them in a natural way. Classic characters like Q and Moneypenny were left out of the story, which instead focused on Bond’s first mission and depicted him as an angry, cocky rookie. Royale, directed by Martin Campbell, felt fresh. It felt unique. It was a Bond we hadn’t seen before. It promised a bright new future for the series. 

However, the three films that followed, while still anchored by a commanding performance from Craig, suffered from an identity crisis. Under Sam Mendes, a director of unquestionable talent, the series has still somehow gone from fresh and revitalised to self-conscious and ridiculous in the space of two films. Ian Fleming’s James Bond was not a particularly interesting character. He was a bit of a bastard, really. A highly prejudiced tool of the state, if you will. He was a faceless assassin who knew his days were numbered, so he spends the majority of his time indulging in the finer pleasures of life. Mendes, and Eon for that matter, have hopped on the reboot bandwagon started in such wonderful fashion by Christopher Nolan with Batman Begins. Instead of revelling in James Bond’s mystery and charm (even Fleming viewed Bond more as an expression of male desires and fantasy than anything else) they have attempted to add “layers”. These attempts culminated with the rebooted Bond-Blofeld stepbrother fiasco that tipped Spectre off the creative cliff last year. But, at the same time, while they attempt to demystify the character, they’ve awkwardly adhered to the formula and continually reference the elements that once were so great about the character.

This creates a horrible juxtaposition that is almost apologetic in nature. The message you are subjected to, at the end of the second act of Spectre, is “look at how we have deconstructed this hero and brought him into the modern age. But also, look at how great he once was!”

Ironically, in an attempt to stay fresh, the series has become more stale than ever. And even more ironically, other franchises have infused more Bondian elements to huge success. Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation, the fifth installment of that Tom Cruise franchise, is more of a Bond film than Spectre is.

With another production hiatus expected for the forseeable future thanks to the current lack of a distributor for the films, and the possible departure of Craig from the role as a result, perhaps it may be time for Eon to re-evaluate their creative attitude to the series and create a long term plan for once. They owe it to the legion of fans who helped ensure that Bond is the fourth most successful franchise in history. 

One answer may involve binning the “Bond formula” entirely, but who knows for sure until you try? Sometimes other people do it better. There’s nothing wrong with that.

[craigmoore-blog]

Struggling with identity: Horror films versus Australian stereotype.

        From the very first shots of Greg McLean's Australian crocodile thriller Rogue in 2007, it's clear that the film is using a number of elements to convey a sense of awe and wonder at the landscape of the barren outback – with the crisp, golden cinematography displaying the rocky dry earth working with the overly emphasising Aborginal sounding chants on the soundtrack. This then moves on to a peaceful scene of grazing wild water buffalo that is shattered by the ambush of one of the unsuspecting creatures by the large reptilian predator, hidden away in the murky depths. This isn't the first time McLean has brought a viewer into a false sense of wonder at the Aussie landscape before catapulting them into an horrorific nightmare; he did so quite effectively in his first full length feature, the often stomach churning serial killer flick Wolf Creek in 2005 – a film that is quite often referred to as the Australian Tourist Board's “worst nightmare”. Both of these films are a testament to how Australian filmmakers often rely on the extremely harsh landscape, almost as if it was another character, in their films. What Rogue and Wolf Creek also do quite successfully, in terms of expectation, is subverting clichès and providing new ways to surprise. In order to fully understand their effectiveness, one must understand the history of the Australian film industry.         Ever since the first public screenings of films in Melbourne in October 1896 – less than a year after the Lumière brothers screened the first films ever in Paris, the Australian film industry has been often defined by being extremely cyclic in nature. Despite the fact that the country was responsible for the first ever full length feature film ever in 1906 with The Story of the Kelly Gang (Tait Brothers), the film industry still managed to be labelled as a “boom and bust” industry, attributed to the fact that there have been extreme spouts of hyper-productivity in Australian cinema (1940's and 50's) that have commonly been followed by periods of non-exposure where very few films were produced (1960's).             This cycle of decline almost became terminal in the late 50's and early 60's, where film production came to a near complete standstill, despite the advent of colour technology into Australian film production, firstly with Jedda in 1955 (Charles Chauvel). Jedda was also notable for using Aboriginal actors in leading roles, as well as being Australia's first film to be shown at the Cannes Film Festival in France. It wasn't until the early 1970's with the double of the Gorton and Whitlam governments that the film industry began to pick up speed again as funding bodies were established, which, along with the creation of the Australian Film Television and Radio School, allowed a new generation of filmmakers to bring their visions to the screen.             The 1970s saw a huge renaissance of the Australian film industry. The country produced nearly 400 films between 1970 and 1985 - more than had been made in the history of the Australian film industry - in a period known as the Australian New Wave. The 1970s also saw the emergence of the film directing auteurs of Gillian Armstrong, Peter Weir, Philip Noyce and Bruce Beresford and the launch of international careers for many screen actors including Judy Davis, Sam Neill and Mel Gibson. [1]             However, despite this success, fundemental problems for the country remained. Just like film industries in other English speaking nations, the Australian film sector struggled to compete with the onslaught of American Hollywood behemoths, in the aftermath of the creation of the “blockbuster” in the mid 70's with films such as Jaws (Steven Spielberg). By and large, any serious talent that developed in Australia eventually left the country to make their name in the more financially thriving American film industry, with very few returning. The 1990's introduced stars such as Toni Collette, Heath Ledger, Eric Bana and Nicole Kidman to the world.             One huge way that the Australian New Wave helped film production was that it allowed diversification across a broader range of genres than had been able before, from the more successful bigger budgeted films such as Mad Max 1 & 2 and Crocodile Dundee, with the latter becoming Australia's highest grossing film ever and launched the career of actor/writer Paul Hogan. Not only was it a hit “down under”, it also struck gold on the international box office, earning over $300million across the world. The film spawned two sequels and arrived at a time when Australian tourism was undergoing major advertising to attract American tourists to the country – Hogan himself was a major figurehead in the 'shrimp on the barbie' tourism campaign. For a long time, this campaign was a major success, with Australian airline Qantas nearly doubling the amount of daily flights to the country, whilst public figures such as Steve Irwin adopted the characterisation that Hogan had made famous - trading on the “Crocodile Hunter” image to push himself into the American market. According to the Tourism Commision Australia placed number seventy-eight on the "most desired holiday locations" list prior to the 'barbie' campaign, and had risen to number two on the list by the time the campaign had ended. [2]

            In 1979, director Peter Weir, in an interview with film critic David Stratton, maintained that Australian film would never survive without the support of the government.[3] While this new image was a massive success on one hand, it left many wondering how Australians would deal with being stereotyped so deftly by the rest of the world. For Geoffrey Barkerof the Melbourne Herald, Hogan's character reinforced international perceptions that "Australians are gauche, provincial and philistine".[4] For years, foreign audiences associated Australia with Hogan's image, and this was evident with the amount of Australian films that featured, making a living in the harsh outback (examples include Dingo (Rolf de Heer, 1991)) To make matters worse, the profitability in Australian filmmaking was cut considerably when the Labor government slashed the unbiased system of tax concessions for filmmakers, and instead opted to set up the Australian Film Finance Corporation, which was interested only in funding financially viable films. This cut the amount of films produced per year drastically, and even more so the amount of films that actually made a profit. [5]             Despite the 1990's offering a few successes here and there, including Muriel's Wedding and Strictly Ballroom (the other major successes of the decade, Babe and The Piano, did not utilise AFFC funding), the film industry went into a state of  unproductivity, as it was unable to compete with American filmmaking. One genre which continued to thrive throughout however was that of horror, which was able maintain a balance of Australian mythos and culture without being too demanding financially.             Although horror movies have remained popular in Australia since the early part of the 20th century -- particularly during America's Universal years of the 1930s and Britain's Hammer years of the 1950s and '60s -- it wasn't until the 1970s that self-made Australian horror began to take root after the implementation of the “R” rating in 1971. It was during this time that Australian cinema as a whole experienced a resurgence due to increased governmental funding, while horror remained a relatively low budget affair. Quentin Tarantino coined the phrase “Ozploitation” to describe Australian films that exploited the countryside in their narratives in the documentary Not Quite Hollywood: The Wild, Untold Story of Ozploitation!.[6]

            The previously mentioned Peter Weir emerged as a fresh voice with his 1974 debut The Cars That Ate Paris. The quirky film mixed horror with humor while maintaining an art-house flavour that would characterize 1977's The Last Wave. In that film, Weir used Australian Aboriginal mysticism to paint a haunting tale that delved into topical issues of race and culture. These early forays into horror and suspense helped propel the director into international stardom as well as aiding in the legitimization of such genre films within Australia. [7]

            While Weir's films blended horror with other styles, the first outright Australian horror film might've been 1972's Night of Fear, directed by Terry Bourke. Originally banned for indecency, this story of a woman terrorized by a loner in the deserted Outback while searching for her horse not only foretold 20th century “Ozploitation” fare like Mclean's Wolf Creek, but it even predated the similarly themed, groundbreaking American hit The Texas Chainsaw Massacre by two years.  Early horror films like Night of Fear and the nature-runs-amok Long Weekend (1978) utilized Australia's natural, untamed environments to their advantage. The isolation of the undeveloped Outback would go on to play a major part in Australian horror – just like it did in action movies from Down Under, like the Mad Max series.             Tom O'Regan explains that oftentimes "scriptwriters, directors and producers select story materials from the social materials and forms at their disposal and they use combinations of technology and performance to establish fictional norms and documentary truths"[8]. A film that earned the reputation as a missing classic for many years until its recovery, restoration and re-release in 2009 was Ted Kotcheff's Wake in Fright, starring Gary Bond, Donald Pleasance, and Chips Rafferty. Symbolising the anxieties of the time, the film told the story of Bond's schoolteacher who becomes stranded in a town in the Outback. Offered an opportunity to clear financial debts but failing, the teacher struggles with personal moral degradation as he attempts to separate from the menacing and disturbing townsfolk. Made for Aus$800,000, the film was premiered at the 1971 Cannes Film Festival to a controversial reception, namely for a kangaroo hunting sequence which caused several audience members to walk out, along with its depictions of sexuality and its general unnerving tone.             It was shown again at Cannes (one of only two ever to be shown twice at the festival) upon its re-release, where it was selected as a Cannes Classic title by department head Martin Scorcese. He said “Wake in Fright is a deeply -- and I mean deeply -- unsettling and disturbing movie. I saw it when it premiered at Cannes in 1971, and it left me speechless. Visually, dramatically, atmospherically and psychologically, it's beautifully calibrated and it gets under your skin one encounter at a time..”[9] The film is now regarded as a seminal slice of Australian thriller cinema, and a thundering shot to the nerves even against the warm, fuzzy feeling that films such as Crocodile Dundee offered later. In his book Contemporary Australian Cinema, Jonathan Rayner says that in Wake in Fright, “the rural existence of the stereotypical Australian male is stripped of mystique and individualism, as the Outback town is portrayed as the repository of warped or degenerate tendencies, dark reflections of accepted characteristics.”[10]             By the end of the '80s, however, the quality of Aussie horror movies had become dubious -- somewhat emblematic of the state of the country's cinema as a whole, wherein international icons like Mad Max and Crocodile Dundee had been replaced by the likes of Yahoo Serious and the Energizer battery guy. Cheap, cliché-ridden slashers like Houseboat Horror (1989) and Bloodmoon (1990) and thrillers featuring B-grade American stars like Linda Blair (Dead Sleep) and Jan-Michael Vincent (Demonstone) became more and more prevalent.             One exception, though, was 1989's Dead Calm. This tense thriller about murder aboard a yacht in the middle of the ocean stood out amidst a sea of derivative, low-minded fare with its acute psychology, taut action set pieces and superb acting and direction (Roger Ebert wrote “-"Dead Calm" generates genuine tension, because the story is so simple and the performances are so straightforward.”[11])- all of which combined to help launch the American careers of director Phillip Noyce and actors Sam Neill and Nicole Kidman. This one shining beacon signaled hope that Australian horror and suspense could regain the high quality of the late '70s and early '80s.                 The dawn of the 21st century signaled a comeback for Aussie horror movies. The year 2003 witnessed the surprise success of the zombie comedy Undead, which earned a rare, albeit limited, theatrical release in America. The Spierig Brothers, meanwhile, followed up Undead with 2008's apocalyptic vampire flick Daybreakers, and Australian director Jamie Blanks returned to his homeland after helming American slashers Urban Legend and Valentine for 2007's Storm Warning.             In 2005, Greg McLean's Wolf Creek was released. A graduate of the National Institute of Dramatic Art, McLean worked with people such as Baz Luhrmann at Opera Australia, before moving into short film productions, such as Plead, which won him a Gold award from the Australian Cinematographers Society. Wolf Creek was McLean's first feature film. It became a massive success in terms of a cost to profit ratio despite polarising critics due to its extreme violence. McLean was effectively an unknown internationally at the time, but the film earned itself a wide release across the United States – earning almost $28million of the back of a $1.3million budget. Inspired by true events - specifically the cases of  Ivan Milat (aka the Backpacker Murders), Bradley John Murdoch (aka the Peter Falconio mystery), and Joseph Schwab (aka the Kimberley Killer) - the film starred John Jarrat as a psychopathic outback dweller named Mick Taylor, who terrorises British tourists Liz (Cassandra McGrath) and Kirsty (Kestie Morassi) along with their Australian friend Ben (Nathan Phillips) when they suffer a breakdown in the middle of nowhere.             Playing off a number of cultural and stereotypical expectations - most notably the backpacking culture that had developed in the wake of the Crocodile Dundee tourist boom – Wolf Creek exercised some extreme terror on an unsuspecting audience through the torture and murder of helpless and innocent travellers by an evil loner. That loner, Mick Taylor, is a manipulation of the Australian stereotype – appearing, acting and talking exactly like Paul Hogan's Mick Dundee, the distinctive image of Australian culture for the past 20 years, a conscious decision by Mclean during the writing stage. [12] He originally appears helpful to the trio of travellers when their car breaks down. This expectation based on stereotype is soon used against the audience as Mick reveals himself as a serial killer, and a rather brutal one at that – a harbinger of death in a countryside filled the beauty and awe that backpacking culture strives to immerse themselves in. The contrast between Outback dweller Mick and someone like Ben is apparent when Mick refers to Sydney as the “poofter capital of Australia” - while Ben, a city slicker, shows no regard for the people of the area he is visiting; “so far, no intelligent lifeforms”.

            Most interesting though, is the sense of realism that McLean brings to the film. Wolf Creek is filled with sequences of extreme brutality, as Mick exacts his lust for death with glee, with one of most infamous being the “head on a stick” death scene. While some of these sequences are certainly elaborate, they're far from ridiculous or unrealistic. Responding to a question about Mick's place in the realm of horror icons, Mclean said, “I think the successful characters have to come from some true place. Look at Mick Taylor in the movie, it's conceivable that this guy could be real. He could exist. Also, even though we don't know anything about his back-story really he's a genuinely frightening character who is like a monster.”[13]             McLean would apply this sense of realism to his next feature, the killer crocodile flick Rogue in 2007. The story of a tourist safari party (led by actors Radha Mitchell, Michael Vartan and a pre-Avatar Sam Worthington) that are ambushed by a large Saltwater crocodile, Rogue had a budget of  $27millionAUS, one of the highest budgeted Australian films ever. Despite receiving hugely positive reviews (the film holds an extremely rare 100% rating on critic review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes), the film was a financial failure. Despite the “Welcome to the TerrorTory” tagline, the film failed to connect with Australian audiences, earning less than $1.8million domestically on top of $3.2million worldwide.             In her review for UrbanCinefile, Louise Keller said “From the man-inflicted horrors of Wolf Creek, writer director Greg McLean has taken his next project into the snapping jaws of a gigantic man-eating crocodile. Rogue is a snap-crackling creature feature imbued with anticipation and tension that ably delivers scares and bloody crunches on a magnificent, dramatic Australian backdrop.”[14] Just like Wolf Creek before it, Rogue features some bloody bone crunching violence suitable to a creature feature, but again, it's presented in a relatively realistic fashion which makes it all the more terrifying. While American killer crocodile features had resolved to exaggerating the size of their monsters (Lake Placid (Steve Miner) in 1999 and Primeval (Michael Katleman) in 2007, for example) in order to bring in the crowds, Rogue's monster was very much based in reality - a large but not ridiculously sized monster based on the true life Saltwater Crocodile named 'Sweetheart', who was responsible for dozens of attacks on boats in the Northern Territories in the mid to late-70's (although, poetic licence was expressed as 'Sweetheart' was never responsible for a fatal attack).             Using advanced Computer Generated effects to amazing accuracy, McLean's monster crocodile looked and moved convincingly – a feat that had not been achieved in many killer crocodile films to that point. Several interesting reasons for this included the fact that Rogue was competing with another Aussie killer croc film the same year, titled Black Water. That film, directed by David Nerlich and Andrew Traucki, was made for less than $1.5million, and utilised real footage of crocodiles as opposed to CGI, making for a tense and realistic experience. Another reason, and the one that's far more relevant, is McLean's attention to detail in terms of realism when depicting the Australian wilderness.             Opening with beautifully shot sequences of lush landscapes and barren wildernesses, McLean draws you in with the country's natural beauty that has been exploited so much in the cinema of the previous decades. He then hammers home the dangers of these landscapes using the jaws of the crocodile killer, just like he did with Mick Taylor in Wolf Creek – the realism of both of his monsters making the clichès associated with the nation ultimately shallow and lacking any sort of truth for the duration of the runtime of his films.

            Australian cinema has been one of serious stunted development, fluctuating between fruitful productivity and stale inactivity for the best part of 50 years. The sudden burst of international attention that Paul Hogan, Crocodile Dundee and the “shrimp on the barbie” campaign brought to the Australian tourist industry (and as an effect, the film industry) caused quite a divide among filmmakers – one that exists all the way up until today, as both audiences and filmmakers struggle to figure out what it means to “be Australian”. McLean's films, through their brutal depictions of violence in places of beauty – in this case the outback - by a walking stereotype (Mick in Wolf Creek) and a presence of nature (the Crocodile in Rogue) attempt to manipulate and subvert the clichès that other films such as Crocodile Dundee have created. They successfully do so, but whether that stereotype they're subverting is based on fact, depends on the Australian person you ask.

[1]    Events That Shaped Australia. Wendy Lewis, Simon Balderstone, John Bowman, Page 229–233.

[2]    "Come and Say G'Day!" - Shrimp on the Barbie Campaign

[3]    Contemporary Australian Cinema, Jonathan Rayner, Page 178

[4]    Crocodile Dundee - Cultural Impact

[5]    Australian Cinema in the 1990's, Patterns of Production and Policy, Lisa French, Page 18-23

[6]    "Not Quite Hollywood: The Wild, Untold Story of Ozploitation!" - IMDb

[7]    Contemporary Australian Cinema, Jonathan Rayner, 44-47

[8]                  Australian National Cinema,Tom O’ Regan,page 26

[9]    Wake In Fright - CinemaArts

[10]  Contemporary Australian Cinema, Jonathan Rayner, page 28

[11]  Roger Ebert - "Dead Calm"

[12]  Greg Mclean for "Wolf Creek" - Dark Horizons Interview

[13]  Greg Mclean for "Wolf Creek" - Dark Horizons Interview

[14]  Urban CineFile - Rogue Reviews

[craigmoore-blog]

True Detective and the peaking of the Television Renaissance

The Sopranos [1999-2007]

For years, there was an old adage, “Television is shit.” You were either one who did or didn’t love TV, and there was a wide gap between the worlds of television and cinema. However, in the past ten years, things have changed. Television, especially in America, has undergone a sort of renaissance, beginning (arguably) with The Sopranos starring the late James Gandolfini and continuing up until this year’s True Detective starring Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConnaughey. The success of shows like 24, Breaking Bad, Boardwalk Empire, Homeland, American Horror Story, The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones, The Newsroom, The Americans and The Wire, has meant that there has never been a larger focus from studios on cable television. 

True Detective [2014-]

What has been really interesting about this “renaissance”, is the fact that it has completely blurred the lines between what constitutes a film star and what constitutes a Television star. In years previously, you had the stars of American shows and sitcoms making the transition to the big screen, with only slight success. Since the beginning of the new Millennium, there has been an abundance of established cinema actors gracing the small screen, from Kiefer Sutherland to Jeff Daniels and all the way up to likes of Kevin Spacey and the previously mentioned duo of Harrelson and McConaughey. Thanks to snappy, higher quality scriptwriting and increased exposure to the television format tthrough new mediums such as Netflix (Who have their own extremely successful tentpole series, House of Cards starring the aforementioned Spacey) people are now able to access television series with a few clicks, meaning a shorter waiting time for those with tendencies towards impatience and allowing shows to garner an audience that wasn’t there fifteen years ago. Every year, there’s a new “best show ever made” that develops a huge following online - the rivalry at this years Emmy Awards has never been so intense. 

The Wire [2002-2008]

True Detective is the latest in a long line of series to be labelled the “greatest show ever”, succeeding Breaking Bad, which succeeded The Wire (depending on who you ask). Breaking Bad in particular left a huge cultural impact, revealing itself as a total powerhouse three seasons in, where its popularity skyrocketed (thanks again to its presence on Netflix) and led to its finale becoming an international event of sorts - thanks in no small part to the mesmerising central performances from Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul, and the continuously clever writing from Vince Gilligan.

Breaking Bad [2007-2013]

True Detective continues to highlight the path of quality that television has somehow stumbled upon, with its massive popularity only going to increase as it builds momentum towards the end of its eight episode run. This new found quality has not limited itself to American shows, however, with almost universal acclaim for British productions such as Sherlock, starring Benedict Cumberbatch - a show that has almost as much production value as some Bond movies - and Doctor Who, whose 50th anniversary episode even managed to make its way onto cinema screens this Christmas. As shows like this continue to grow and networks and broadcasters continue to put more focus on their products, it’s only a matter of time before something terribly awful happens to the quality of television shows and sends us back thirty years into the past, or, far more likely, shows start to become more cinematic than cinema itself.

Homeland [2011-]

[craigmoore-blog]

V For Vendetta and the current global protests: Will the film now become more than a cult favourite?

In January 2014, in response to anti-protest laws enacted by the government (dubbed "Dictatorship laws"), Ukrainian citizens took to the streets in a mass Sunday protest against the government of Viktor Yanukovych, who rejected the pending EU association agreement in favor of a Russian loan bailout and closer ties with Russia. Clashes began as the crowds descended on Parliament buildings, utilising blockades of cars, mini buses and vans and defying the face concealment act by covering their faces with party masks, hard hats and gas masks. Violence escalated as protesters attacked police barracades with molotov cocktails and pipes, while police returned fire with rubber bullets, water cannons and molotovs of their own. As the situation worsened, police were given the authority to use live ammo, as snipers began picking off civilians indiscriminately, leading to nearly 80 deaths as the carnage reduced much of Kiev to a warzone.  

In March 1982, Alan Moore's graphic novel V For Vendetta was published. Featuring the character of V, a masked anarchist who seeks to systematically kill the leaders of Norsefire, a fascist dictatorship ruling a dystopian United Kingdom, the novel became hugely popular as a commentary on the current state of affairs under Thatcher ruled Britain in the 1980's.

In March 2006, the film adaptation of V For Vendetta was released, directed by James McTeigue from a script by the Wanchowski brothers and starring Hugo Weaving as the titular character. There are several fundamental differences between the film and the original source material. For example, the comic is set in the 1990s, while the film is set sometime between 2028 and 2038: Alan Moore's original story, as mentioned previously, was created as a response to British Thatcherism in the early '80s and was set as a conflict between a fascist state and anarchism, while the film's story has been changed by the Wachowskis to fit a modern political context (in the novel, Jews were the main target of persecution under the fascist regime, while the film mainly targets Muslims and homosexuals) - a change that angered Moore to the extent that he refused to endorse the film. Despite the differences between the source and the adaptation, both V For Vendetta stories convey and evoke huge emotions through political and social subtext. The anarchic means by which V proposes to destroy the government cause him to be labelled a terrorist by the Norsefire party leader (Adam Susan in the novel, Adam Sutler in the film). V's usage of iconography to maintain anonymity is notable.

The film version of V for Vendetta sets the Gunpowder Plot as V's historical inspiration, contributing to his choice of timing, language and appearance. For example, the names Rookwood, Percy and Keyes are used in the film, which are also the names of three of the Gunpowder conspirators. The film creates parallels to Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo, by drawing direct comparisons between V and Edmond Dantès. (In both stories, the hero escapes an unjust and traumatic imprisonment and spends decades preparing to take vengeance on his oppressors under a new persona.) The film is also explicit in portraying V as the embodiment of an idea rather than an individual through V's dialogue and by depicting him without a past, identity or face.  The adaptation draws upon vast numbers of iconic imagery from history to highlight the struggle between freedom and state, not least Hitler's Third Reich in its depiction of the Norsefire party, but also takes inspiration from George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty Four. For example, Norsefire party leader Adam Sutler primarily appears on television screens and as a portrait in people's homes, similar to the image of Big Brother. (Interestingly, Suttler is played by John Hurt, the actor who starred as the rebellious character in the Nineteen Eighty Four adaptation) Strikingly, the villainous Government of the film allows the situation to escalate not too unlike the way the Ukranian government has allowed their armed forces to begin using violence.

The film's release sparked a number of discussions regarding the issue of political ideals in cinema. Whilst being declared an overall critical success, Its controversial story line and themes have been the target of both criticism and praise from sociopolitical groups for its depiction of homosexuality, criticism of religion, totalitarianism, homophobia and Islamophobia. David Walsh, writing for World Socialist, described V's actions as "anti-democratic" and illustrative of a "bankrupt archaic-terrorist ideology". Richard Roeper dismissed any Christian Right Wing criticisms of the terrorist aspect, saying that V's terrorist label is applied to him by "someone who's essentially Hitler, a dictator."  While the film deals with a fascist controlled Britain, director James McTeigue maintains that the film can be used in any other societal terms,  referred to the film as adding dialogue to a set of issues much broader than the any one administration. "We felt the novel was very prescient to how the political climate is at the moment. It really showed what can happen when society is ruled by government, rather than the government being run as a voice of the people. I don't think it's such a big leap to say that things like that can happen when leaders stop listening to the people." In line with this, the novel and film have influenced a number of movements, including most famously the internet group Anonymous, who use the iconic Guy Fawkes mask worn by V as their symbol in the fight against various forms of oppression and tyranny. Not only that, but it has been rumoured that the youthful members of the Egyptian revolution in 2011 also drew inspiration from the symbol, as did members of the Occupy Wall Street movement. Wearing of the mask has also been declared illegal in Dubai. http://vimeo.com/30660612 Despite the obvious differences in circumstance between what's happening in Ukraine and what Moore and McTeigue show in their story, it's not hard to find certain similarities between how they show people reacting in a certain way to the faults and neglectful aspects of their government. With the way the world is shifting in recent years, with revolutions unseen and unheard every year, will films like V For Vendetta receive a new boost in popularity and a revisit for analysis to explain the state of our society today? 

People should not be afraid of their governments; Governments should be afraid of their people.

[craigmoore-blog]

40 years of British Crime: Michael Caine in Get Carter (1971) and Harry Brown (2009)

“Well, nobody’s a criminal to himself. You see, I never play a criminal like a bad person.” - Michael Caine1

In the late 60’s and early 70’s, there was an increasing cinematic response to the so-called “swinging sixties” era of peace and love. The sexual liberation that had been undertaken throughout the previous decade was beginning to seep into the medium of cinema with differing results – in the US, films such as Dirty Harry and Taxi Driver in 1971 and 1976 respectively being controversial for their intense depictions of sex and violence, whilst films such as Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange was banned in several areas for its extreme portrayal of such issues. In Britain, however, there was certain controversy surrounding graphic content from before this era, going back to crime films from the 1940’s such as Brighton Rock (John Boulting) from 1947, which was an example of a “spiv movie” and was controversial for its time for its depiction of violence despite being well received by critics.

          In 1971, the same year as the release of Dirty Harry (Don Siegel)in the US, British director Mike Hodges released Get Carter, with British star Michael Caine in the title role of Jack Carter. Caine’s star power was on the rise at the time, thanks to star turns in films such as Zulu (Cy Endfield, 1964), The Ipcress File (Sidney J. Furie,1965) and Alfie (Lewis Gilbert, 1966). Based on the novel Jack’s Return Home by English author Ted Lewis,          Get Carter tells the story of professional killer Carter, in the employ of London gangster brothers, the Fletchers. Carter is having an affair with Gerard Fletcher’s wife, Anna, when he finds out about the death of his brother Frank – believed to be accidental. Not convinced by the official report, Jack travels home to investigate his brothers death, uncovering old wounds and opening new rifts with enemies both current and past.

             Referred to as a “Jacobean Tragedy” by Hodges in an interview in 2000, Get Carter was received with mixed emotions by many reviewers when it was released across Britain in 1971, and received the highest rating of the time, the rating X. The grim mood created by cinematographer Wolfgang Suschitzky, the seedy subject matter and downbeat ending all came in for criticism - but it was the film’s depiction of violence that shocked and dismayed many, even though the violence shown is at most brief and relies more on the atmosphere of the settings to deliver its hard punch.               That said, in his review for Time Magazine in 1971, Jay Cocks compared the film’s violence unfavourably to another thriller of the time, Point Blank. “Get Carter is a doggedly nasty piece of business made in blatant but inept imitation of Point Blank. While the violence in Point Blank defines some surreal and chilling points about the savagery of contemporary urban life, the mayhem in Get Carter is a gruesome and almost pornographic visual obsession.”2 “A revolting, bestial, horribly violent piece of cinema,” declared the London Evening News. 3               These reviews contrasted to what director Hodges thought of the film, saying “It’s a heavy body count, and at its very heart is corruption. It’s the sense of violence. There’s not a lot of blood, and the violence is swift. You don’t wallow in it. It’s atmosphere.”          In the US, Get Carter was rated R and got buried as the second feature on a double bill with Dirty Dingus McGee (1970), a comedy western directed by Burt Kennedy and starring Frank Sinatra. Get Carter’s archetypal story has provided fertile ground for other filmmakers. The movie was remade with a black cast in America as Hit Man (George Armitage, 1972), and acclaimed US director Steven Soderbergh freely acknowledges the influence Get Carter had on his own revenge thriller The Limey (1999), featuring a former flatmate of Caine, Terence Stamp. 4A year later Sylvester Stallone starred in a remake, Get Carter (Stephen Kay, 2000), with Caine making a cameo appearance as Brumby, a secondary character (who also appeared in the original) who has sinister motives.

             What makes Get Carter rather interesting is how it was almost completely forgotten by the general filmgoer not long after its release. Thanks to a combination of poor marketing and the film being censored (as well as redubbed) in a number of regions, both the 1971 film and its respective source material received very little attention - and was only truly recognised with recollection upon the extremely negative critical reception of the remake in 2000. Review aggregator website Rotten Tomatoes’ consensus of the remake reads, “A remake that doesn’t approach the standard of the original, Get Carter will likely leave viewers confused and unsatisfied.” 5               Jumping forward 39 years to 2010, Michael Caine starred as the title character in Harry Brown, under the direction of Daniel Barber in his directorial debut. Now 77, Caine no longer conveys the cold brutality he once did. But he brings a plausible suggestion of steeliness (and a familiar gift for waterworks) to his role in this flick as the titular former military man turned trigger-happy pensioner.             Drawing along thematic lines that (just like Get Carter) border along exploitative, Harry Brown sees Caine portray Harold Brown, a Royal Marines veteran of the Troubles in Northern Ireland. Harry’s wife Katherine currently resides in a coma while his Elephant and Castle housing estate has fallen foul of youth crime. When his closest friend Len (David Bradley) is murdered by a gang led by Noel Winters (Ben Drew), Harry fights fire with fire, unleashing and old form of justice upon the estate.

       Just like Get Carter thirty years before, Harry Brown was quite controversial at the time of its release in 2010 for it depictions of youth gang culture in modern Britain, with the Rotten Tomatoes consensus reading, “Its lurid violence may put off some viewers, but Harry Brown is a vigilante thriller that carries an emotional as well as a physical punch, thanks to a gripping performance from Michael Caine in the title role.”6 In her review for the New York Times, Manohla Dargis said of Michael Caine, “he performs his nasty work with verve, not only because he’s fired a lot of movie guns, but also because he brings the memory of his great roles to every part.” 7          During the 90’s and up into the noughties, the British crime film took on a glamorous new appearance thanks directors such as Guy Ritchie, who added comic grit with films such as Lock,Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch. In 2004, Matthew Vaughn, a producer on the previously mentioned Ritchie films, released Layer Cake, which gave an almost classy and overly stylised look on British Crime. When Harry Brown was released, it was seen as controversial thanks to its depiction of youth gang culture, which had become a problem in the previous decades. In 2007 – three years before the release of Harry Brown – the Metropolitan police stated that there were over 169 different gangs in London alone, with over 25% of those involved in murder on a regular basis.8            In both Get Carter and Harry Brown we are presented with a vigilante Michael Caine, but the differences in both incarnations are quite striking. In Get Carter, Caine is the man used to living on the opposite side of the law, fighting not for others but for himself - driven to do even more bad because of a love for a brother he hasn’t seen in years. Jack Carter, whilst maintaining a solid sense of cool throughout, is at heart an extrememly nasty character hardened by years of gangster lifestyle, made likeable only by Caine’s performance. This is in stark contrast with what we see in Harry Brown.             Here, Caine’s character is a broken and reserved individual disheartened by the recent death of his wife along with the memory of his dead daughter. His descent into vigilantism, while directly the result of the brutal murder of his friend Len by Winter’s gang, is the culmination of years of built up anger. The military skills Harry possesses thanks to his previous career make little difference to him for the most part, as he expresses genuine fear for his life on several occasions near the beginning of the story. Most obviously, upon hearing his wife is about to pass away, Harry rushes to the hospital. He doesn’t make it in time however, as he’s too afraid to walk through an underpass that’s occupied by a number of youths.

            One scene in particular, at the half way point of the film, is quite raw and effective. After following drug dealer Kenny, Harry infiltrates his drugs den. Posing as a customer attempting to buy a pistol, Harry uncovers an overdosing young girl who is being sexually abused by the dealers. After suggesting that an ambulance be called (a suggestion rebuffed angrily), Harry dispatches the dealers and Kenny with extreme prejudice (uttering the film’s famous line, “You have failed to maintain your weapon, son.”) before dropping the girl at a hospital.          In this sequence, we see a Harry that is not fearless – yet, despite his advanced age, still clever enough to outwit men much younger than him. Originally quite nervous when entering the den, Harry’s discovery of the girl undoubtedly stirred some emotional connection to his dead daughter – a connection that ultimately gives him the courage to kill the dealers.          We see very little of this in Get Carter, a performance that is generally considered to be the “epitome of cool, with his measured and ruthless portrayal of a man consumed with revenge.”9 Up until the final scene on the beach, Jack Carter exhibits an almost psychotic sense of ruthlessness. Throughout the course of the film, Jack murders several people in a cold and callous way - not least his ex-lover Margaret, whom he murders with a fatal injection. Just before his demise, Carter punishes Eric by making him drink a full bottle of whiskey before beating him to death with his shotgun.           It could be said that the differences in the two vigilante characters Caine portrays are thanks to the different settings and different enemies that both characters face. By casting Caine in Harry Brown, it’s evident that director Barber was seeking to establish some sort of nostalgic link between his film and Get Carter – as pointed out in the New York Times review above. Despite this, the link between both characters is very thin, and for good reason.          Get Carter, for the most part, represents the last of the classic type of gangster (well dressed, clean cut) that Britain was more associated with pre-1980, in the vein of real life gangsters such as the Kray brothers. British criminality took on a new form as gang culture set in during the 80’s and 90’s, leading to what we see in Harry Brown. In Barber’s film, we see very little respect from the hoods that terrorise Harry’s estate – perfectly illustrated in the opening sequence,where we are shown the brutal murder of a woman in front of her child by two gang members on a motorbike.          What these two films represent is a development in British crime culture over a thirty year period. Not only are the faces of criminality different, but those who face them are different, also. While the gangsters that are present throughout the duration of Get Carter show some odd form of class throughout, the hoodlums that rule the streets in Harry Brown are far more animalistic. As Michael Caine himself said in press interviews for Harry Brown, the thugs the film illustrates so violently are an “underclass which seems to have been left to rot.”10 Harry Brown highlights the almost cavalier attitude towards violence that the thugs have with moments such as the opening sequence above.          By using the nostalgia attached to Michael Caine from the years between Get Carter and its release, Harry Brown manages to cleverly invert expectations by portraying a weaker, frightened vigilante as opposed to a sauve, ultra cool, revenge driven man on a mission. One poster for Harry Brown even recalls the famous image of Caine wielding a shotgun in Get Carter, despite the fact that no such scene exists in Harry Brown – signifying an obvious marketing ploy to attract those familiar with the 1971 film. Both Get Carter and Harry Brown successfully reflect the changing times in British crime culture – being both hard edged and violent, being controversial in areas of murder and sexual abuse as well as just being effective stories individually.

1Michael Caine Interview, 2010

2"Get Carter" Review, Jay Cocks - Time Magazine

3Get Carter, 40th Anniversary

4The Philosophy of Steven Soderbergh, Consciousness, Temporality, and the Crime-Revenge Genre in The Limey, Geoff King, Page 96-106

5Get Carter [2000] - Rotten Tomatoes

6Harry Brown Reviews - Rotten Tomatoes

7Harry Brown Review, Manohla Dargis - New York Times

8BBC News UK - Police Identify 169 London Gangs

9BBC - Films - Review - Get Carter

10Michael Caine Interview - Harry Brown

[craigmoore-blog]

Sogni e metacinema - Dreams in the cinema of Federico Fellini

"I thought my ideas were so clear. I wanted to make an honest film. No lies whatsoever. I thought I had something so simple to say. Something useful to everybody. A film that could help bury forever all those dead things we carry within ourselves. Instead, I'm the one without the courage to bury anything at all. When did I go wrong? I really have nothing to say, but I want to say it all the same." - Guido Anselmi in 8 1/2. 1                          During the 1950’s and 60’s, the reputation of filmmaker Federico Fellini was rapidly consolidated with the release of several of his major works, which were both critical and financial successes to the extent that they became considered milestones in the rise of auteur-oriented cinema in Europe – a rise which for a decade managed to challenge but also temporarily displace Hollywood’s grip on both the creatively and financially successful film. Arguably, Fellini’s public persona has influenced the myth of the director being a creative superstar - an imaginative magician – more than any other post war director ever did, mainly thanks to his larger than life personality matched with a neorealist background. 2 Exuberant creativity has become synonymous with Fellini’s body of work, so much so that his name is recognisable to those who haven’t seen any of his films. Such fantasy is prevalent in a huge number of his films, from La Strada to Le nottidi Cabiria, from La dolce vita to 8 ½, and from Fellini Satyricon to Amarcord. With these works, Fellini managed to accomplish an almost impossible task – reconciling original artistic merit and creative genius with record box office profits that had previously eluded such types of films. 3              What is most interesting about Fellini's career path is how his thematic approach altered as time went on. There is a mutation in tone throughout Fellini's films that started with neorealism and finishing with surrealism, whilst still maintaining that “Felliniesque” feel that the director has now become synonymous with. 4 This case study will highlight these different changes, and will take a close look at the theme of dreams in Fellini's continuiningly influential 8 1/2. In his early career, Fellini was both a screenwriter for neorealist pioneer Roberto Rossellini and a newspaper caricaturist in postwar Rome, resulting in competing influences he would bring together with startling results and heightened emotional impact. After such early works as I vitelloni, Fellini broke away from neorealism’s political strictures with the beloved La strada, and from there boldly explored his obsessions with the circus, societal decadence, spiritual redemption, and, most controversially, women, in such films as Nights of Cabiria, Juliet of the Spirits, and And the Ship Sails On. As one of Italy’s great modern directors, Fellini - whose larger-than-life personality made him both popular with audiences and crew - created an inimitable (or at least to everyone except Woody Allen5) cinematic style combining surreal carnival with a sharp social critique.               In 1954, Fellini made La Strada, which in English means "The Road", and is considered to be the masterpiece of the Italian neorealist period from 1945-1952, where Italian filmmakers made films reflecting the plight of the working class and poor in the aftermath of the Second World War.

               Gelsomina, a childlike woman, is sold by her mother for ten thousand lire to the harsh traveling performer Zampano to support Gelsomina's younger sisters. Zampano trains Gelsomina to be his assistant by beating her until she gets it right. The rest of the fable chronicles Gelsomina's and Zampano's life on La Strada, performing on street corners and in circuses. On their travels, Gelsomina meets Il Matto (or “the Fool”). Il Matto taunts Zampano relentlessly, and Zampano threatens him with death. Although this character has a tragic flaw, he tells Gelsomina that it is her purpose in life to accompany Zampano, so she continues to follow him. Gelsomina lives by this law in her life and in loving Zampano, forgives him for her suffering. But when Zampano kills Il Matto, her spark of life is exinguished and she is consumed with Il Matto's death ("The Fool is hurt" 6). Eventually, Zampano leaves her and goes on, but in a redeeming act of kindness leaves with her the trumpet she loved to play. Years later Zampano hears the haunting tune Gelsomina played on the trumpet and learns of her death. After this he falls into a drunken depression and in the final frame is seen crying desperately for his lost redeemer.                       With La Strada, Fellini creates a perfect film that exemplifies the trademarks of Italian neorealism by showing an impoverished Italy jaded by the horrors of WWII. 7   The next movement in Fellini's art comes in La dolce vita, an expose on the Italian culture that arose out of the despair after WWII. Fellini explores the meaning of life and the search for love by exposing "the sweet life". The grand opening shot shows a giant statue of Jesus being taken to the Vatican on a helicopter. The main character Marcello, an exploitative journalist, is following the statue on a helicopter behind the other. Marcello, whilst following up on stories of Rome's elite rich and famous, searches for meaning in his own life. A beautiful young actress arrives in Rome and he becomes infatuated with her, leading to him eventually taking her to the Trevi Fountain in one of the film's most famous sequences. Marcello discovers he doesn't want that celebrity life, so he follows the lead of a story about a miracle of two children who claim to see the Madonna. It is obviously a fake and is exploited grandly by the paparazzi (a term coined from this film). After his experience with the miracle he goes to friend's home who seems to have the perfect life: two children, a wife, a large home; yet something troubles his friend Steiner. He fears peace because he suspects behind it lies the greatest evil. Marcello continues his search with parties, women, and journalism, and then learns of a double homicide and suicide commited by Steiner. When this happens he gives up his search and leads a meaningless life of decadence. In the famous final sequence, Marcello is on a beach and sees a young girl he met at a cafe. He is separted from her by a channel of water, symbolizing his separation from the girl's innocence and a life with meaning.

                In this film that transcends the proportions you would expect – becoming more epic than his other works, Fellini shows how meaningless things like religion have become, and how other truly meaningless things like celebrity, money, and "the sweet life", have created a decadent and empty culture. The once meaningful principles of people like St. Francis of Assisi have been battered and beaten until they are no more meaningful than a Hollywood harlot looking for the next flashy piece of work and a reason to spend a paycheck. The transformation from La Stradato La dolce vitais evident in the slightly surreal elements of the film. Beginning with the statue of Jesus, the party at the castle near the film's climax, and the beach scene at the end, La dolce vita is a small preview of the totally dreamlike 8 1/2that follows. Despite the success of both La Strada and La dolce vita, 8½, a collage of memories, dreams, and fantasies about a director’s artistic crisis, is widely considered to be Fellini's masterpiece – a film that still has major influence on filmmakers such as Allen and others.               8½  is littered with autobiographical elements. The cryptic title in fact refers to the fact that this is Fellini's 8½th film but maintains little else to do with the story. Prior to taking the reigns for the film, he'd directed six feature films. In addition he'd also co-directed one and directed episodes of two others, making the extra 1½. The story - a priceless tale that has been widely copied ever since its release - had been languishing with Fellini for years. Out of all the films from the imaginative mind of Fellini, 8½ is possibly his most celebrated masterpiece.

              When it comes to entrancing and mesmerising surrealism, Fellini's talents remain unparalleled. 8½ is strictly an art film that certainly is not for all tastes. Whilst it embodies everything a wannabe filmmaker aspires to achieve, it conveys a fascinating autobiographical narrative through thoroughly artistic visuals and intricately written dialogue structured around complex dreams sequences. While some regard the film as self-indulgent and ultimately without meaning, 8 1/2 remains a seminal slice of world cinema. 8               On top of this, Fellini spawned several contemporaries who were downright inspired by his cinematic creations. Terry Gilliam is a prime example whose attempts at surrealism are evident in such films as Brazil. David Lynch and the previously mentioned Woody Allen are other obvious students, with Allen's Stardust Memories being heavily influenced by 8 1/2 to the point that it homages the film. 9 Naturally, though, the artistic qualities will not be happily devoured by all. 8½ is undeniably an enigmatic creation bursting with bizarre metaphors and overt allegory. To genuinely appreciate the film it's essential for it to be viewed on its own terms - the outrageous product of an immortal director making light of the medium, taking advantage of everyone surrounding him, and satirising his very profession.                 A film director named Guido Anselmi (Marcello Mastroianni) has just recently completed a film that became popular and successful. Following this hit, he's struggling to conceive a movie to further establish the reputation his previous success has led to. His latest project promises to be a science fiction film featuring a spaceship. Aside from that aspect, no other features of the plot are revealed - his is mainly due to the fact that Guido has no clue regarding the story either. Rarely granted a moment of peace, Guido is endlessly hassled by colleagues and friends eager for more work and anticipating the commencement of production. Slowly but surely, Guido's inspiration is lost as he becomes numb to the world around him - not only is he having trouble getting the script written and a story worked out, but those surrounding him are constantly pressuring him about different things, with women especially being a massive problem in his life. As a last resort, Guido retreats into his surreal fantasies and childhood memories.                    8 1/2  takes into consideration the subject matter of a filmmaker reflecting in a fictional way on his own creative process, something that then was unfamiliar to the world of cinema, and especially so with the story being derived from the material of the director's own life. The film was also greatly influential for its fantasy elements. The opening sequence is a peculiar dream, with Guido being drawn up into the sky after being hopelessly trapped in a smoking car in the middle of heavy traffic. Throughout the course of the film, Fellini moves seamlessly between reality, dream sequences and memories. The film also benefits greatly from the superbly stylish and extravagant cinematography (courtesy of Giannini di Venanzo), as well as the stunning score by Nino Rota.                   There is much irony surrounding the naivety of Guido. Throughout the course of production for 8½, the script was incomplete. The actors were given their lines for the day each morning before the cameras rolled, sometimes verbally. Despite this, Mastroianni presents an absolutely wonderful performance as the troubled director. As 8½ is more or less a portrait of director Fellini, Mastroianni dresses and acts like the man he's representing.                  As the film is looking in-depth at the film industry, the supporting cast is of course filled with attractive performers. There are several ladies that play a role in Guido's life throughout the film. His marriage is in trouble, he obviously enjoys the company of numerous beautiful girls, etc. This all propels Guido to a conclusion of emptiness. (“The truth is: I do not know... I seek... I have not yet found. Only with this in mind can I feel alive and look at you without shame.”10 All in all, the film is very well acted. Everyone looks the part as respective producers, designers, mistresses, and so on.It's impossible to absorb everything during a single screening due to the cryptic and bizarre nature of the proceedings. Fellini conveys a very fascinating narrative underneath a coat of fantasy elements and entrancing dream sequences. 11                   8 1/2 is Fellini's first venture into the world of surrealism. He started making this film without really knowing where it was headed, much like the main character Guido's dilemma in the film. Fellini even experienced a similar confidence crisis during filming, locking himself away in his office until his mind was clear. 12 The theme of the film – a man who wants to escape the pressures and madness of the world whilst trying to forget his past – is perfectly illustrated by Fellini in the opening sequence, shere we see Guido stuck in traffic in his car where he becomes extremely claustrophobic. People look on with ominous still glares and eventually he escapes and floats above the traffic and above the ocean. But he is attached to the ground by a rope an is pulled back down into reality. Fellini once described the process of his work in a single quote, where he said in an interview, “Don't tell me what I'm doing. I don't want to know.” 13            Guido is a womaniser, but is married to a wife who is growing more cynical by the day. He is working on a new project, but doesn't know what it's about. While he is negotiating the workings of the film at a spa, he has visions of his mother and father; his childhood in school; summoning Saraghina to do the rumba.               The most lavish and poignant of all the dream sequences is when he dreams of having a harem filled with the women in his life competing for his attention and catering to his every need. He sends the ones who become too old upstairs to live, and when this happens he is faced with the reality of how badly he treats women. But the best of these sequences is the final one at the spaceship launch tower, a prop that was built and had no use, where everyone from his past and present joins in a circus of music and dancing around a ring.               Through this surreal masterpiece, Fellini offers a more lighthearted message than his other, more serious films. He states through all the madness that if we live our lives with regret and in the chaos we create for ourselves, we will never live freely and have meaning in our lives. La Dolce Vitais considered by many to be the breaking point from neo-realism into a more surrealist realm that is hugely present in 8 1/2. When watching these three films, one can truly see the transformation of an artist and his work, much like the painting periods of Picasso. Although all three of these films are very different, they have a magical quality that ties all of Fellini's work. It is a deep understanding of human nature and his quest for truth through his art.                      These three films chronicle the journey of a great artist through three unique phases of neorealim, post-neorealsim, and finally surrealism. Although Fellini is a master of his craft and one of the greatest directors who ever lived, he is never pretentious in his work. He retains a graceful, human quality in all of his films that has become widely known as "Felliniesque". Carefully and precisely choreographed, his films play like the most fantastic ballet where every step is perfect and at the end, you know you have witnessed something beautiful and extraordinary.

Bibliography

1 IMDb - 8 1/2 Quotes

2Federico Fellini: The Complete Films, Chris Wiegand, Page 73-83

3The Cinema of Federico Fellini, Peter Bondanella, Preface

4 http://www.felliniesque.com/

5Woody Allen's 'Stardust Memories' - A flawed work

6IMDb - 'La Strada' Quotes

7Federico Fellini: The Complete Films, Chris Wiegand, Page 43-47

8The Cinema of Federico Fellini, Peter Bondanella, Page 165-174

9Woody Allen's 'Stardust Memories' - A flawed work

10IMDb - 8 1/2 Quotes

11Federico Fellini: The Complete Films, Chris Wiegand, Page 91-101

12The Cinema of Federico Fellini, Peter Bondanello, Page 164

13Federico Fellini Quotes - Goodread

[craigmoore-blog]

Do you like scary movies? 'Scream' and its place within the horror genre.

Ghostface: “Do you like scary movies?” Sidney Prescott: “What’s the point? They’re all the same. Some stupid killer stalking some big-breasted girl who can’t act who is always running up the stairs when she should be running out the front door. It’s insulting."  - Scream, 1996

Everyone knows a horror film when they see one. As a widely used term, the horror film is relatively easy to identify and define, just like the western, the musical and the thriller. Despite that, it’s a rather flexible genre. According to Stephen King, there are three types of terror, “The Gross-out: the sight of a severed head tumbling down a flight of stairs, it’s when the lights go out and something green and slimy splatters against your arm. The Horror: the unnatural, spiders the size of bears, the dead waking up and walking around, it’s when the lights go out and something with claws grabs you by the arm. And the last and worse one: Terror, when you come home and notice everything you own had been taken away and replaced by an exact substitute. It’s when the lights go out and you feel something behind you, you hear it, you feel its breath against your ear, but when you turn around, there’s nothing there…”          The influence of German Expressionism (use of oblique angles and sharp curves; a distortion of line and color, intrusive lighting, and a subjective vision of the exterior world) on early Hollywood films is profound and readily evident. Most directors truly concerned about film art knew of the German Expressionistic films, such as The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Robert Wiene, 1919) and learned from them. Pre-1930’s horror relied on creepy and eerie creations of atmosphere to create a sense of unnerve to make up for the lack of sound. In the United States, examples of silent horror included John S. Robertson’s Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde from 1920 and Rupert Julian’s The Phantom of the Opera in 1925. With the advance of sound in the 1930’s, horror began to adapt. Moving from the previously established style of atmosphere and design, sound allowed the genre to begin creating the “movie monster”, with films such as Dracula (Tod Browning) and Frankenstein (James Whale)in 1931, to King Kong (Merian C.Cooper & Ernest B. Schoedschack) in 1933.              Up until the release of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho in 1960, the horror film followed this pattern. They were often referred to as “monster films” as opposed to “horror films”, as they created something that was very much fantastical. The monsters could be big ( the previously noted King Kong), small (The Fly, 1958, Kurt Neumann), sexy (the aforementioned Dracula), or extremely grotesque (The Creature from the Black Lagoon, Jack Arnold, 1954 ) but almost always they were never of this earth, both figuratively and literally (Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Don Siegel, 1956). Hitchcock’s film changed how the audience reacts to the conventions of a horror, despite his claims that Psycho is actually a black comedy. By this time, a viewer had certain expectations when viewing such a genre piece.         Following the so called “rebirth” of American Horror with first Psycho and then George A.Romero’s Night of the Living Dead eight years later in 1968, the genre experienced a highly productive era of growth, especially during the 70’s and early 80’s which kickstarted a host of new franchises including The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974, Tobie Hooper), Halloween (John Carpenter, 1978), Friday the 13th(Sean S.Cunningham, 1980) and A Nightmare on Elm Street (Wes Craven, 1984) which offered a fresh spin on the horror convention, increasing the amount of gore and violence to a level where these new films – which mainly had teenage protagonists or at least featured a number of teenage victims – became known as “slasher films” and introduced now classic villains to cinema history such as Jason Vorhees, Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers.            These films were so popular upon their release that they spawned sequels, often numerous ones (Friday the 13th, between 1980 and 2001, had nine sequels and in 2003, a crossover film with A Nightmare on Elm Street, which also had seven sequels) , of varying quality and financial success. Despite their initial critical and financial reception, most (if not nearly all) of these franchises had worn out their welcome by the mid 1990’s, having fallen to subpar direct-to-video release level, relying on a cult following and the popularity of previous instalments to keep themselves alive. That was until 1996, when Wes Craven, the man responsible for previous slasher horror entries including A Nightmare on Elm Street and The Last House on the Left, directed Scream, from a script from scribe Kevin Williamson.

When Scream was first released, it was critically praised for numerous reasons. Seen as a smart and innovative piece of work, it offered glimpses of originality that paradoxically owed most of its originality to established horror beats and formula - leading to it being labelled a “postmodern horror film.”1 Kevin Thomas of the Los Angeles Times said of Scream, “A bravura, provocative sendup of horror pictures that’s also scary and gruesome yet too swift-moving to lapse into morbidity.”2 Added to its critical success, Scream secured $173million in returns at the box office against a budget of $15million, making it the 15th highest grossing film of 1996.

The main reason Scream did so well was because of its self reflexivity, a trait that Craven and screenwriter Kevin Williamson infused to give the characters and thus the story an extra edge – they are all familiar with the tropes of the slasher horror film, and the characters soon quickly realise they are trapped in a slasher type scenario, and they then use their knowledge of the genre to evade the killer.         For example, in the now famous opening sequence, the unseen mobile phone wielding killer known as Ghostface tests his intended victim’s knowledge of scary movies before slaughtering her quite brutally in the style of the slasher. What Craven and Williamson are attempting to convey here is that there’s nothing more satisfying than watching a character attempt to use slasher methods to prevent her death, only to succumb to the villain in true slasher style. Craven had earlier attempted to self mock the horror genre with his sequel to A Nightmare on Elm Street, titled A New Nightmare (1994), where Freddy Krueger haunts the cast and crew of the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise, including Craven himself. This idea of self reflection really reached its pinnacle with Scream however, and horror began to become popular once again.            Taking all of this into account, it’s difficult to not wonder what Scream exactly means for the horror genre. Over four films, the Scream franchise tells the story of Sidney Prescott, played in all four films by Neve Campbell, who, along with her friends, is targeted by the Ghostface killer – who is always revealed to be someone from her past and uses the knowledge of the horror genre to their advantage. While Scream has its roots in those horror films from the 70’s mentioned previously, it differentiates itself from them by offering up characters that are considerably more glamorous thanks to the actors that portray them being more well known and of higher quality than your average horror star.

Added to this, it featured considerably more expensive production values, and the fact that all four films featured a killer that was very much a real person as opposed to something supernatural (“Certainly the deepest horror, as far as I’m concerned, is what happens to your body at your own hands and others”) gave the Scream franchise a realistic edge that previous slasher films did not have. These two differences gave the series an advantage – for one thing, it was unusual at the time for genre films to kill off well known faces. Craven however completely disregarded this notion as we see in the famous opening sequence mentioned above, where Drew Barrymore’s character is brutally slain by the killer just before her parents return home. This again draws the audience in, and then throws them off, as they are not expecting someone like Drew Barrymore to be killed off before the opening credits have even rolled.

        The Scream sequels should be noted for how they approach their formulae, also. The second film presents the notions of Sidney and her crew reliving the horrors of the first film albeit with a different face behind the killer’s mask. In Scream 2 the events of the first film have now been adapted into a Hollywood film entitled Stab – thus toying with the set techniques of the horror sequel whilst simultaneously introducing some clever irony reflecting modern Hollywood productions. This idea is taken further in Scream 3, where Craven takes Sidney and the rest of the characters to Hollywood to visit the set of Stab 3, where another set of killings begin. Unfortunately, the film is probably the weakest of the four, with a shaky screenplay not allowing Craven and Williamson’s ideas to fully develop and leaving it in the shadow of the other films.          Scream 4  is the most interesting of the sequels. Released in 2011, eleven years after the last Scream installment and at a time when low budget horrors such as Paranormal Activity were popular at the box office (The first Paranormal Activity earned $193million at the box office) and studios were content with cranking out below par remakes of the 70’s slashers (Halloween, Friday the 13th, and Craven’s own A Nightmare on Elm Street all received the remake treatment in 2007, 2009, and 2010 respectively) it showed Craven still had it in him to create clever horror which, although didn’t set the critics or the box office on fire like the previous films, did offer an interesting prospective on the stage of the horror genre of the time, which had become much more focused on what was coined “cattle prod cinema”. 3

The structure of the film is ultimately similar to the previous installments. Sidney Prescott still has her usual crew around her, offering familiarity to those who remembered the previous entries – but there’s also plenty of new cast members present, including Emma Roberts as Sidney’s young cousin Jill. Sidney is crafting a career as a writer when a fresh killer strikes, copying the efforts of the first Ghostface killer a decade before. Craven and Williamson, however, are not content with offering just another sequel. Jill is revealed to be the killer, aiming to emulate her older cousins’ infamy by being the only survivor of the latest set of attacks after framing a co-conspirator. In a final showdown, just before she’s defeated Jill, Sidney utters the line “First rule of remakes Jill, don’t fuck with the original.” Now, it seems quite coincidental that the film would take this line in a time where the number of remakes being produced is quite high, especially considering that almost all of Craven’s earlier work received such treatment.            Craven and Williamson are using the four films of the Scream franchise to explore the history of the slasher film - beginning by toying with how the slasher film is constructed in the first film, to how the sequels are contructed in the second installment. They then move to how Hollywood treats these films by cranking out sequels and then by attempting to remake these films in Scream 3 and 4 respectively. It’s easy to see how the series has influenced horror up until the recent shift in style of the genre with the advance of such films like Paranormal Activity. In the years following the release of the first Scream film and it’s first two sequels, several films were released with the sole aim of “being like Scream”, among them I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997), I Still Know What You Did Last Summer (1998), Urban Legend (1998), Urban Legends:Final Cut (2000), Cherry Falls (2000), Valentine (2001),and Final Destination (2000).            Furthermore, the central protagonist of the Scream franchise, Sidney Prescott is a useful figure to examine Carol J.Clover’s notion of “the final girl”. For Clover; “The Final Girl is (apparently) female not despite the maleness of the audience, but precisely because of it.”  While the self reflective nature of the series is undoubtedly important, it’s very easy to forget that there are other elements in the film that are just as important. The history of the so called “final girl” is rather important to how the audience perceives Scream. When the slasher film first appeared on the scene, it was seen a misogynistic way to present the slaughter of young and usually rather attractive female victims for the benefit of a predominantly male adolescent audience – allowing an opportunity for “big breasted women who can’t act” to be slaughtered by a faceless and emotionless enemy. As author Carol Clover once noted “Abject terror…is gendered feminine”, the obsession with the female horror is the reason the slasher genre has provoked such distaste among numerous critics since its inception. However, as time went on, one of the more interesting features revealed itself – it was usually a woman who defeated the monster/killer, or at least had an instrumental role in his/it’s demise. In Clover’s book Men, Women & Chainsaws, the she makes the claim that it’s the boyish nature of the final girl that sets her apart and often saves her life.

For example, in John Carpenter’s Halloween, Laurie Strode is a smart mature girl who almost completely rejects male advances entirely, covering herself in non-sexual clothing and possessing an androgynous quality that matches her almost gender neutral name. It’s this boyishness that attempted to make a connection between the empathetic minds of the audience and the character as opposed to the “eye candy” supporting characters. A girl that ultimately learns how to handle herself in the face of death and turns the tide on her killer is what makes an audience genuinely feel for her, as opposed to those that are there to do little except look pretty – with examples of such victims going all the way back to Pyscho and Hitchcock’s voyeuristic treatment of the death of Janet Leigh in ‘that shower scene’.             Using this model, Scream introduces us to Sidney Prescott as a girl who does not totally fit this description, with Campbell’s good looks and the character’s relatively healthy relationship with her boyfriend Billy Loomis at odds with her neutral gender name and general reclusive and withdrawn attitude – an attitude attributed to the loss of her mother the year before the events of the film. Upon the revelation that Billy is the killer of several of her friends, and also the murderer of her mother, Sidney eventually overpowers and kills him, but is left extremely traumatised by the event.

Over the course of the four films, Craven and Williamson develop the character of Sidney using at least part of Clover’s model. During the first and second film, one could assess Sidney’s role as that of the protagonist but also that of the damsel in distress. Completely changed by the events of the first film, Sidney is more resolute thereafter. Her encounters with the Ghostfaces of the sequels involved less of her running away like many of the other victims, and sees her develop into what Clover describes as the “final girl”, in stark comparison with the sexualised helpless girl that was more similar to the supporting characters from the earlier slashers. By Scream 3 and 4, Sidney has even developed the courage and skill to launch counterattacks against the respective Ghostface killers. Does this development in character mark something more than Craven and Williamson seeking to create a heroine for the 90’s? As Clover put it, “The Final Girl is, on reflection, a congenial double for the adolescent male. She is feminine enough to act out in a gratifying way, a way unapproved for adult males, the terrors and masochistic pleasures of the underlying fantasy, but not so feminine as to disturb the structures of male competence and sexuality.”         It could be said that they were seeking to revise rather than look retrospectively at the idea of a “final girl”. The late 80’s and 90’s featured some of the more aggressive and strong heroines of cinema history, with Ellen Ripley in Aliens (1986) and Sarah Connor in the Terminator films (1984 and 1991) being prime examples of characters that mirror Sidney’s development from hapless female to strong heroine.            The combination of Sidney being an account of the history of the “final girl” - being both the damsel and then the heroine – along with Craven and Williamson’s continuous twisting of horror/slasher genre aesthetics make Scream still stand out as the leader of the pack amongst all the other films that sought to “be like Scream” post-1997. With the paradoxical trap of sequels that it produced and then sought to mock the idea of, the franchise ultimately created a great encyclopedia of slasher horror . This achievement was reached thanks to the inclusion of a great heroine along with an extremely memorable villain that was flexible enough to be reused three times following the original thanks to its faceless nature, and also thanks to the clever plots that Williamson created and Craven brought to life. Scream, if anything, established Craven as a horror auteur whose 2011 entry to the franchise, whilst failing to match the original, managed to creatively stand head and shoulders above the remakes of his films from the 70’s and 80’s.

[craigmoore-blog]

Review: Prisoners [2013]

In 2009, Liam Neeson and Luc Besson revived the kidnap genre with Taken, an effective yet simple exercise in action filmmaking. Since then, there have been a number of copycats, ranging in quality from solid (2012’s Safe) to downright abysmal (2011’s Abduction). Following on from his nomination for Incendies at the 2010 Academy Awards for Best Foreign Language film, Canadian Filmmaker Denis Villenueve tackles the kidnap genre with Prisoners, bringing in a searing hot cast including Hugh Jackman, Jake Gyllenhaal, Maria Bello, Terence Howard and Viola Davis and asks us, how far would you go to protect your family? Keller Dover (Jackman) is a deeply religious family man who is running a struggling carpentry business. During Thanksgiving holidays, he and his wife Grace (Bello), along with their neighbours, Franklin and Nancy Birch (Howard and Davis, respectively) face the ultimate nightmare – after dinner, their daughters Anna Dover and Joy Birch disappear without a trace. Following a police investigation led by Detective Loki (Gyllenhaal) that turns up one suspect, Alex Jones, (Paul Dano) but no other leads, it seems as though hope is lost for the two girls and both the Dover and Birch families begin to crumble. Keller, however, refusing to give up on his daughter and convinced of Jones guilt, kidnaps the suspect with the intention of beating the girls’ location out of him. This puts him on a collision course with Loki, who similarly refuses to give up having never failed to solve a case.

From the very first frame, Villeneuve makes it clear to us that this is no Taken, despite what the trailers may suggest. Every second is paced and orchestrated very carefully, helped along by yet another masterful effort from cinematographer Roger Deakins (who surely deserves recognition at this year's Oscar ceremony). At almost two and a half hours, the film takes a long time establishing mood and atmosphere (aided by an eerie score from Jòhann Jòhannson) and a large chunk of the runtime is spent developing the characters of Keller and Loki, who are both brought to life exceptionally thanks to phenomenal and potentially award winning performances by Jackman and Gyllenhaal (the former of which deserves more roles like this and the latter of which I previously wasn’t a fan).   Villeneuve’s film brims with themes of religion and morality (Christian symbolism has a huge role throughout the film), as both Keller and Loki go to extreme but contrasting lengths to find the two girls. The tension throughout can be cut with a knife, as the films brings the kettle to a boil very slowly through a number of extremely unsettling and often downright disturbing sequences (one torture scene especially springs to mind) but overall the film shows huge restraint and avoids the final act syndrome of abandoning plot in favour of overblown action.  As mentioned before, the acting from both leads is superb, but performances across the board are excellent, from Howard and Davis to Bello and Dano. Even Erin Gerasimovich and Kyla Drew Simmons as Anna and Joy bring something to the film despite the short screen time they have.

If there are any faults with the film, it lies in the script - which twists a bit too much in the final act, and despite not becoming overblown like I mentioned previously, it could be said that it goes too far in the opposite direction, dragging slightly and becoming too convoluted for its own good. That aside, the performances and overall design of the film, from location to sound, help keep the film firmly on track, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Prisoners takes more than one award when February rolls around.

[craigmoore-blog]

Review: Adaptation [2002]

Following on from the success of Being John Malkovich, which garnered critical acclaim upon its release with three Oscar nominations under its belt, director Spike Jonze reunites with scriptwriter Charlie Kaufman for Adaptation., another offbeat comedy in which Kaufman becomes the lead character.With a cast including Nicolas Cage, Chris Cooper, Meryl Streep, Brian Cox and Tilda Swinton, Jonze and Kaufman – hailed for their originality in an era where it is sorely lacking – take the ingredients of your usual Hollywood movie and mix it all up. Kaufman goes so far as to create a fictitious brother for himself (the film is officially credited to the two Kaufman brothers)- resulting in a film that's not just about films but about everything that comes with being alone and afraid in the world.          Charlie Kaufman (Nicolas Cage) is an extremely talented but intensely self defeating writer who, off the back of his triumph with Being John Malkovich, is hired to adapt Susan Orlean's (Meryl Streep) bestselling novel The Orchid Thief for the screen. Deeply troubled and paranoid, Charlie struggles to finish the script, whilst his fear of speaking to women makes for an uneasy relationship with his girlfriend Amelia (Cara Seymour). To make matters worse, Charlie has to deal with the arrival of his leeching twin brother Donald (also Nicolas Cage) who decides to become a screenwriter like his brother, under the guidance of tutor Robert Mckee (Brian Cox). Whilst Donald cranks out generic and clichè ridden scripts, Charlie attempts to avoid formula, and studies with fascination the developing relationship between Susan Orlean and the strange and scruffy plant enthusiast John Laroche (Chris Cooper), who is the subject of The Orchid Thief.           By the turn of the 21st Century, the movie business has never been more afraid of taking risks. In Adaptation., we are treated to a film that almost writes itself up as it goes along, its unpredictability measured by the time jumping neuroticism that causes both amazement and bewilderment as we move between plot strands dominated by strong performances by all the major players. Nicolas Cage - an actor who constantly divides opinion - has never been better than he is here, delivering a perfectly unstable yet restrained performance that highlights his ability to work with complex characters. Meryl Streep also nails a tough role, requiring a unique balance between sympathy and pity which could have been lost with other actresses. The supporting cast, Cooper, Cox, Swinton et al are excellent, with Cox delivering yet another scene stealing turn, especially considering the short screentime he has.            The cleverness of the screenplay allows for the film to encompass a rather broad range of themes and motifs, from ideas like isolation, emptiness, creativity, brotherhood, and nature, to much larger notions such as the adaptation of the human condition that the title suggests. The film illustrates sped up sequences of time passing by, from the conception of the planet up until the time of the plot, cleverly linked in with the time jumping of the narrative from the blossoming relationship of Orlean and Laroche to the sibling tension between Charlie and Donald. Balancing even half of these plot lines would be a tricky task, but luckily Adaptation., running at under two hours,is expertly paced and edited by Jonze' regular Eric Zumbrunnen, ensuring that the film never outstays its welcome.

             One aspect of the film that is rather divisive is the final act. For the first two thirds, we are treated to something that is fresh and unpredictable, reflected by Charlie's determination to avoid formulaic stories. However, once we reach the finale, a certain amount of familarity creeps in and we're treated to something fast and violent and more typical of your regular Hollywood film. Now, with the character beats in mind, one has to ask: Is Kaufman giving us an example of the laziness of certain formulae on purpose, to highlight it? Or did he run out of ideas just like his cinematic self? Either way, regardless of the answer, Adaptation. provides us with compelling characters that are exceptionally brought to life, and along with a clever and meaningful script that also manages to provide genuine laughs, results in a very captivating film experience.

[craigmoore-blog]

30 things I learned from "A Good Day to Die Hard".

I was originally going to write a review of the fifth installment in the Die Hard franchise, but I decided that instead of swearing a lot about its godawfulness, I'd poke some fun at Bruce Willis' fall from grace as John McClane. So here are "30 things I learned from A Good Day to Die Hard". 1. John McClane has survived for four films, so therefore he must act like a superhero in the fifth, right? 2. All Russian sentences only have 3 syllables. 3. You can jump from a 70 story building, surviving with just a scrape and glass shards in your leg. 4. John McClane no longer has a fear of flying. In fact, he likes long haul flights and hanging out the back of a military helicopter now. 5. The several hundred (between 500-600) mile journey from Moscow to Chernobyl can be done in an SUV in a couple of hours. 6. A magical spray exists that neutralises radiation. 7. Using the aforementioned radiation spray on a few boxes in a vault will make the entire facility of Chernobyl safe. 8. If the bad guys are wearing hazmat suits in Chernobyl, you'll be fine in a T-Shirt. 9. John McClane is on vacation. 10. If you see scaffolding out of one window, it will be fine to jump out of another window. 11. No one in Moscow has a problem with you flying around in a Gunship blowing stuff up. 12. There are very few cops in Moscow. 13. The Russian government, despite its history of hair trigger war, couldn't care less if the capital city is being blown up. 14. If you tap a car in the rear tail light, it will violently shoot into the sky and hit another car, which will also shoot violently into the sky. 15. Mercedes are the vehicle of choice for most Russians. 16. A 14 tonne military grade armoured vehicle is no match for a Mercedes 4x4 and can easily be pushed off the road and flipped by said 4x4. 17. A 14 tonne armoured vehicle won't scratch a Mercedes 4x4 no matter how hard you ram it. 18. The famous empty swimming pool in Chernobyl will be full of (perfectly safe) rain water when the McClanes come to visit. 19. John McClane is on vacation. 20. Bad guys still shoot everything except the good guys, especially if there's glass around. 21. John McClane is on vacation. 22. You can outrageously destroy a large number of inhabited vehicles in Moscow and people will be okay with it. 23. John McClane is on vacation. 24. You can crash a 14 tonne armoured car into a courier van and push it along and cause no damage. 25. It's ok to cry. 26. Russian taxi drivers will let you away with the fare if you're from New York and like Frank Sinatra. 27. John McClane can happily carry out a discussion whilst hanging from a van, hanging from the back of a helicopter that's out of control, without breaking a sweat or stressing his voice. 28. If the area is full of radiation, you'll be fine in a T-shirt as long as you wear a gas mask. 29. While on the run, it's perfectly normal to stop in the street and talk Father-Son issues with the future villain. 30. John McClane is on vacation.

[craigmoore-blog]

Review: Oblivion [2013]

"60 years ago, Earth was attacked. We won the war, but they destroyed half the planet. Everyone's been evacuated. Nothing human remains. We're here for drone repair. We're the "mop-up crew". Tom Cruise opens up this post-apocalyptic thriller as Jack Harper, one of the last few drone repairmen assigned to mine Earth's resources after it has been destroyed in a war with the Alien race known as the Scavs. While on routine recon, Jack discovers a crashed ship with contents that cause him to question not only everything he believed about the war, but everything he believed about himself.

Oblivion, in comparison with most Science-Fiction blockbusters, spent a considerable amount of time in development. Originally scheduled to begin production in 2008 for release a year later, the film suffered as a result of the writer's strike, leading to director Joseph Kosinski to go on and develop his vision for the film as a graphic novel of the same name. After the success of Tron:Legacy in 2010 and the end of the writer's strike at the same time, Kosinski was encouraged to begin production on Oblivion again. Step in Tom Cruise, who had expressed considerable interest in the script for a long time before fully committing to it in late 2011.       With its graphic novel roots, it's fair to say that Oblivion relies far more on its visuals than its story - and that is a rare occasion where this is not intended completely as an insult. Kosinski and his crew have crafted a totally believable yet still extremely beautiful vision of a world destroyed by war. Every frame is delicately rendered - bright and colourful with several familiar structures making an appearance. That said, Oblivion relies just as heavily on its soundscape as it does on its visuals - and in this regard we must take note of the fantastic sound design and especially the score by M83, Joseph Trapanese and Anthony Gonzalez which contributes immensely to the atmosphere, sucking you in to the film when things are a lot less interesting storywise.        Unfortunately, for the most part, the script for Oblivion is the weakest element of the entire spectrum. Unneccesarily confusing in parts and pretty slow in others (to the point where it struggled to hold my attention), the story rambles along towards a relevation that is undeniably interesting but oddly executed. With this in mind, the acting from all involved is what stops the film from collapsing in on itself. Cruise, while not the most dynamic of actors, proves yet again that he has what it takes to carry a film of this magnitude on his shoulders (off the back of his excellent performance in Jack Reacher). He creates a sense of sympathy for a character that has no idea of what is going on around him, confused and lost in a world he remembers differently. The supporting players, including Olga Kurylenko, Andrea Riseborough, are excellently utilised. The same however cannot be said for Morgan Freeman, who is completely wasted in a role that is essentially nothing more than a glorified cameo.

For what has been marketed as a science fiction actioner, the film has a distinct lack of action in comparison with other films of similar genre. That said, when they do occur they are tense and exciting, never going into the overblown territory that they could have. The film makes great use of the acting abilities of its leading actors and for that, Kosinski should be praised. It's just unfortunate that the script wasn't given an extra tighter polish to improve the pacing. The film is brim with exciting and clever ideas, but the slow execution of those ideas brings the experience down a notch. It's not completely shallow visual entertainment (a very valid criticism that could be pointed at Tron:Legacy) but Oblivion is definitely a film that is carried by the "awe factor" of its visuals and sound, coupled with the ever increasing reliability of Tom Cruise. As a result, this makes it a good, but not great, entry into the science fiction genre.

[craigmoore-blog]

Yet ANOTHER existential hero?

AT THE beginning of Hugh Jackman’s latest excuse to show off his abdominal muscles, “The Wolverine”, the eponymous superhero isn’t a superhero at all. He’s a hermit, living in the mountains, sporting the shaggy beard and hair of a Grateful Dead roadie. But soon Wolverine is back in action and making mincemeat of his enemies once again. It’s hardly a shocking twist. A film about a recluse probably wouldn't get a summer release. And James Bond and Batman went through a rather similar bout of heroism fatigue last year in “Skyfall” and “The Dark Knight Rises” respectively.

Indeed, it seems that nearly all films about secret agents and superheroes can now be divided into two categories: they are either “Getting into the Game” or “Getting Back into the Game”. Films in the first category examine how a young man (it never seems to be a woman) commits himself to his villain-bashing vocation, a process that invariably involves suffering a personal trauma, developing his weaponry and/or superpowers and acquiring his trademark costume. Recent examples are “Casino Royale”, “Batman Begins”, “Man Of Steel”, “Iron Man”, “Spider-Man”, “The Amazing Spider-Man”, and every other franchise-starter with “Man” in the title.

The second category features films in which the hero has abandoned crime-fighting (eg, “The Wolverine”). Usually, he’ll signify his retirement by letting his hair get scruffy, and he may well throw his costume in the nearest dustbin. In fact, it always turns out to be a sabbatical, rather than a retirement. Before long, the hero has cut his hair, had a shave, and resumed active service. “Superman Returns”, “Spider-Man 2” and “Rambo” are all about “Getting Back into the Game”.

This second category can also be supplemented by a denouement we’ll call “Getting Out of the Game”, wherein the hero announces in the film’s closing minutes that his do-gooding days are over once and for all (“Iron Man 3”, “Rambo”). What this means, of course, is that the next instalment can have him “Getting Back into the Game” all over again.

I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised to see Hollywood screenwriters leaning so heavily on formulae, especially formulae that have such a solid narrative arc. But aside from the laziness and the predictability of “Getting into the Game” and “Getting Back into the Game” films, their drawback is that the plot—the villain’s scheme, and how to foil it—is pushed into the margins. The hero is too busy learning his trade or having an existential crisis to get on with the job.

Films haven’t always relied on these two blueprints. If we think back to less neurotic, less navel-gazing decades, we might recall that in the very first 007 movie, “Dr No”, James Bond had already been in the espionage business for years. M was already fed up with his flirting with Miss Moneypenny, and there was no suggestion that Bond might give up and have a sulk halfway through. He had a mission to accomplish, so he went out and accomplished it. It is easy to feel wistful for the days when heroes would just get on with it. http://www.economist.com/blogs/prospero/2013/07/new-film-wolverine

[craigmoore-blog]

10 Things You Might Not Know About Die Hard

The 15th of July was the 25th anniversary of "Die Hard," a movie that forever changed the landscape of American action filmmaking. Director John McTiernan brought in European sensibilities and fluid camera movements that were unheard of at the time, adding an artistic edge and much-needed stylistic flourishes to a genre largely defined by hulking he-men and an almost complete lack of aesthetic embroidery (seriously — look at other action movies from 1988 and try not to fall asleep). It was as much a game changer as "Avatar," but never heralded as such; instead it was quietly acknowledged as an admirable achievement while its artistic merits went largely unheralded.

In honor of the film's anniversary, we thought we'd run down ten things that you probably don't know about "Die Hard," a movie whose legendary status was recently cemented when an entire wall of the Fox lot was painted up to resemble the sequence where Bruce Willis' John McClane is crawling through an air duct. As this year's "A Good Day to Die Hard" proved, countless sequels of diminishing returns can't even keep "Die Hard" down.

It should also be noted that McTiernan is currently serving a year-long prison sentence for lying to a federal officer, a case that tangentially stems from the Anthony Pellicano wiretapping scandal. It's a tragedy that terribly few people know about, so that would be the 10th-and-a-half thing you don't know about "Die Hard" — that its groundbreaking director is sitting in a prison cell for a year on trumped-up, dubious charges.

1. It Was Alan Rickman's First Film

That's right, folks: the man immortalized in countless movies (who else could play the Sheriff of Nottingham, Professor Snape and Colonel Brandon?) got his big break as Hans Gruber, the terrorist-cum-bank robber. The movie's original production notes recount how McTiernan and producer Joel Silver went and saw "Les Liaisons Dangereuses" on Broadway in the spring of 1987 (Rickman originated the part of Valmont). By the end of the play, both agreed that they had found their Hans Gruber. Earlier thus year, Total Film Magazine listed Hans Gruber at #8 in a list of the 100 Greatest Movie Heroes & Villains. Rickman said: "I'm not the villain. I'm just somebody who wants certain things, makes certain choices, and goes after them." And he's right — in a lot of ways Gruber is the protagonist, since he has a clearly defined set of goals and sets out to achieve them. John McClane is really the antagonist since he sets about disrupting those goals and, as he's described, is a constant "fly in the ointment."

2. It's Based On a Book

Although often cited for its blazing originality, especially since it created a whole action movie subgenre usually referred to as "'Die Hard'-in-a-[fill in the blank]," the film is actually based on preexisting material. That material was "Nothing Lasts Forever," a 1979 novel by American crime novelist Robert Thorp reportedly inspired by a dream the author had after he saw "The Towering Inferno," a dream that involved a man being chased around a skyscraper by mysterious forces with guns. The book is glaringly different than the movie, featuring an older, retired NYPD Detective named Joe Leland who is visiting his daughter, Stephanie Leland Gennero, at the oil company where she works. It's there on Christmas Eve that Cold War-era German terrorists led by Anton 'Little Tony' Gruber show up, planning on exposing the oil company's shady dealings in South America. Perhaps most bizarrely, it's revealed that Joe and Anton knew each other from World War II. All right.

3. It's Kind of a Sequel ...

Maybe even weirder than its novelistic origins is the fact that "Die Hard" is sort of a sequel. Thorp's original novel is a sequel to his 1966 novel "The Detective," which also featured the Joe Leland character and a mystery involving a shadowy figure from his World War II past (a lot of stuff happened during World War II, huh?). In 1968, the novel was made into a movie of the same name, with Frank Sinatra in the title role and a supporting cast that featured Lee Remick and Jacqueline Bisset (plus a memorable score by Jerry Goldsmith). 20th Century Fox made "The Detective" and was contractually obligated to give Sinatra first shot at the role in the "sequel," even though he was nearly 80 at the time.

4. ... And It Was Almost An Entirely Different Sequel

After Sinatra expressed disinterest in reprising his role, Fox executives demanded that the script be rewritten and that any connection to "The Detective" (or, seemingly, "Nothing Lasts Forever") be deleted. They initially planned on it being a sequel to "Commando," the successful Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle Fox had produced in 1985 (it, like "Die Hard," was produced by action impresario Joel Silver and at least partially written by Steven E. de Souza). After Schwarzenegger passed, the script was reengineered but never came back together.

5. There Was No Script ...

On the commentary track for the film, production designer Jackson De Govia notes that the movie was "made up on the spot." On the same commentary track, McTiernan notes that they didn't even know who the John McClane character was until halfway through the shoot (they shot in order). "In the script he was just a heavy duty New York cop. We figured out that the essence of his character was he didn’t really like himself very much and he was doing the best he could," McTiernan said. "And you’ll see it shows up all the way through the story later on. There’s the confessional in the bathroom with the glass and stuff. But I think we went back and shot that little business where he banged his head and said, 'Very good, John. Good move.'"

Huge moments in "Die Hard," like the scene where McClane meets Gruber and Gruber tries to disguise himself as one of the hostages, was spun out of thin air. As part of the text commentary, Steven E. de Souza says he came up with the scene after overhearing Rickman do an American accent. "McTiernan, who likes to plan meticulously and does not like last-minute changes, started to brood," de Souza recounted. "He said, 'It'll never work because he's seen Gruber kill Takagi. We're shooting that tomorrow. I'm not gonna inflict pink and yellow and blue pages on the actors.' And I said, 'Let me just try it.' So I went off to the nearest typewriter, which was a real pain in the ass, because I'd long since switched to computers. I spent an hour and a half on this three-page scene and I took it to the set and showed it to John and the producers, and they liked it. They said, 'What about tomorrow's work?’ I said, 'Bruce is hiding. He's lurking. There's got to be a way that Bruce can see the guy's getting killed and not see the trigger man, not see his face.' We went to the set for the next day's shoot and John said, 'If we just move this table, like, six feet, I'll put Bruce here. It's perfect.'"

6. ... Which Explains the Magically Appearing Ambulance

The biggest evidence of "Die Hard"'s written-on-a-whim nature is the ambulance that appears at the end of the movie, ostensibly as a getaway vehicle for the Gruber and his gang after they've blown up the hostages (and, seemingly, themselves). Earlier in the movie, when Gruber and the goons arrive at Nakatomi Plaza, you can see into the van and it's pretty much empty, aside from some equipment and other gear. At the end of the movie, after some of the more dramatic narrative kinks had been worked out of the in-progress script, the bad guys need to escape. Thus an ambulance appears, as if my magic, in the back of the van. Most big Hollywood movies merely feel like they've been cobbled together on the fly; in "Die Hard" you can actually witness it.

7. It's Based in Part on 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'

McTiernan did much to loosen up what he felt was an overtly gloomy and self-serious initial concept, which carried over from the original novel – most notably (in his words, again from the DVD commentary), having John McClane turned into a "basic American guy instead of being the strong-jawed, latter-day Dirty Harry and turning the terrorist story into a robbery. People can have fun with a robbery. A terrorist story is by definition dark and unhappy. But with a good caper, you can appreciate the bad guys, too." One of his guiding principles was William Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," which used as a kind of tonal bible throughout the film's production. "My own notion was that it was 'Midsummer Night's Dream' — it's the story that happens on a festival night and it's something that changes all the princes to asses and all the asses to princes," McTiernan explained. "And everybody goes home feeling better for what happened that night. I sort of used that as the guide to the plot. I think in the original script it happened over three days, and I physically moved it to one day. And it dictated things like 'Don't make the cops too serious here.'"

8. 'Singin' in the Rain' is Written Into the Score

One of McTiernan's heroes is Stanley Kubrick, and two key pieces of Michael Kamen's score point to this directly. The first is the use of elements of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, which was employed by McTiernan to both lighten the mood and because it harkens back to "A Clockwork Orange." "Remember what I said earlier about in essence what I was trying to introduce was a sense of joy," McTiernan says on the commentary. "And I had this piece of music in my head for a long time and started saying okay we gotta play this thing that's in ... I remembered it from 'A Clockwork Orange' and I knew it was in the Ninth Symphony. But it was like a couple of months later that I learned that the title of the damn piece of music is 'Ode to Joy.' And it was so dead-on as to the expression of these guys. Michael Kamen was the composer and he did a great job feathering it through as a thematic idea, right through the rest of the score and set it up so we play it full-on at the climax later on."

This compositional decision also plays into the idea that the terrorists are the good guys, since they're the ones that get the triumphant musical motif, while McClane is too busy slogging it. But there was one other Kubrickian shout-out that Kamen and McTiernan cooked up together: "I told McTiernan that if he was going to use Beethoven, he also had to license 'Singin' in the Rain,' which was the other theme from 'A Clockwork Orange,'" Kamen says on the text commentary. "I had great fun winding 'Singin' in the Rain' around Beethoven."

9. There's a Recurring Visual Motif Involving Triangles

We're getting into some "Room 237"-type sh** here but hang tight: according to Eric Lichtenfeld, author of the academic text "Action Speaks Louder: Violence, Spectacle and the American Action Movie," there's a strong recurring visual motif of triangles. As he states on the movie's text commentary track: "There's a triangle motif in the production design. The triangle motif is also part of the composition of the frames and of the photography itself," Lichtenfeld notes. (We're through the looking glass, people!) "Inside the building, McTiernan and [cinematographer Jan] De Bont stage the actors in triangular formations – most notably, the terrorists. The camera movements themselves can suggest a triangle when McT and De Bont combine pans and tilts. In these shots, the camera starts on one point, moves to a second, and moves again to a third. What's more, for filmmakers, as painters and theatre directors have often shown, triangles can be forceful elements of an image."

This idea is reinforced by the production design, which is made up almost entirely of strong angles (like the giant power table that McClane hides underneath, the long square van that the thieves utilize or the desk that Ellis snorts coke off of), most of them comprised of squares (two triangles) or triangles.

There is, of course, one very notable exception: the vault. A smooth, cylindrical vault, it's the thing that Gruber and his cronies are trying to get to for the whole movie, and, when opened, gives us that wonderful musical moment discussed earlier.

10. People Booed Bruce Willis

John McClane was a surprisingly hard role to fill. There was an article earlier this year on Yahoo! about all the actors who turned down the role, which ranged from Harrison Ford to Don Johnson and Richard Gere (!). Even after Willis was cast, people balked. The star was payed a huge fee of $5 million and many thought that he couldn't be taken seriously, coming off of the hit comedy series "Moonlighting." An L.A.Herald-Examiner article from May 6, 1988 read simply: "Boy, has the public turned on Bruce Willis: the trailer for his next feature, 'Die Hard,' was resoundingly booed the other day by an audience at the Cineplex Odeon." Ouch.

Later that summer an article in the Los Angeles Times discussed Fox's decision to move the marketing away from previous advertisements that heavily featured Willis. In the article a rep for a major theater chain said that he yanked the "Die Hard" trailers "because [the audience] groaned and moaned so much when Willis came on." Fox's distribution/marketing president Tom Sherak acknowledged the audience's displeasure but tried to rationalize the shift by saying that everyone at the studio realized they had an action epic on their hands and that "the building was a star, too."

Oh. Right. A building. Way better than Bruce Willis. Courtesy of: NextMovie.com

[craigmoore-blog]

Herrmann & Hitchcock - Maestro & Master of Suspense

One of the most important things about film is its music. The musical score sets the tone and mood of a feature, understating or overstating the visuals as required - essentially complimenting the imagery. Throughout the century as the film industry grew into one of the largest in the world, several notable directors have developed close working relationships with composers who understand the directors vision when it comes to filmmaking. This helps when the two forms must come together to create an attractive piece of media, forming a symbiotic and memorable relationship onscreen (Spielberg and John Williams, Frederico Fellini and Nino Rota, the Coen Brothers and Carter Burwell, David Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti, Martin Scorsese and that one Rolling Stones album he can’t get enough of). However, director composer relationships go back decades, and the two I will provide an overview of are Alfred Hitchcock and Bernard Herrmann, and John Carpenter, who directs and composes the music for his own films.1            Just as the name Alfred Hitchcock is synonymous with classic Hollywood film, the name Bernard Herrmann is commonly associated with classic Hollywood film scores, especially those in the final decade of the 'Golden Age'. No director has been the subject of as many film music compilations as Hitchcock, partly due to his famous collaboration with Herrmann during the later and more memorable series of suspense and horror films that reached their height in the 1960's. After his groundbreaking score for Orson Welles' Citizen Kane in 1941 and then following up with music for The Magnificent Ambersons that was infamously chopped up in the film's final cut (the result being his insistence on his name being removed from the credits and his refusal to work with Welles again), Hermann overlapped his film scoring career with that of his concert compositions. Herrmann was brought to 20th Century Fox by fellow composer Alfred Newman, who was also the musical director for the studio at the time.His film score output for the years before he began his collaboration with Alfred Hitchcock was impressive in its own right, as Newman hired him to score Jane Eyre (1943), Hangover Square (1945), Anna and fire King of Siam (1946), The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), and The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951). The Day the Earth Stood Still was notable for Herrmann's use of the theramin – an ominous sounding instrument which would become the staple of science fiction film scoring for the 50's and 60's. 2            Despite this, Herrmann's most recognisable and highly regarded scores are present in the Hitchcock films. Their relationship began with the film The Trouble With Harry (1955), and Herrmann scored nearly all of Hitchcock's film from there up until Marnie (1964). The two formed a remarkable working relationship. Herrmann disliked the term film composer, and went as far as to work with Hitchcock on sound design for The Birds in 1963 when Hitchcock opted to minimise the use of musical accompaniment in the film. In fact, in contrast with the accepted practice in Hollywood, Herrmann actually began to move away from full, lush orchestrations with his Hitchcock material, with the best example of his “less is more” type attitude being evident in the score for Psycho in 1960. 3Here, Herrmann used only the string section of the orchestra, with occasional bursts of extreme hyperactivity to signify suspense or danger, most notably in the famous shower sequence. Interestingly, Hitchcock originally wanted this sequence to be quiet, with no music present at all, however these days, it's almost impossible to picture that scene without Herrmann's pulsing and screeching violins. 4Herrmann and Hitchcock constantly worked together with ideas on how to make the films' sound either play off or enhance the thematic concerns in the script. Herrmann's other innovation was his usage of short, easily recognizable themes in place of lengthier melodies. For example, Herrmann's 2 note falling horn motif that plays throughout Vertigo is relevant to the plot as it sounds similar to the fog horns at either side of the San Francisco Bay bridge, a location that is included in the story and some scenes actually feature the horns sounding – such as when Kim Novak's character attempts to drown herself under the bridge. Vertigo is also the only time that Herrmann did not conduct the orchestra during the recording sessions, something that he deeply regretted for the rest of his career despite holding his work for the film in high regard.             Hitchcock and Herrmann became close friends, and Herrmann fell deep into the diector's circle. The understanding between the director and the composer is evident throughout the films themselves. Herrmann, as well as composing the music, also provided a cameo in The Man Who Knew Too Much as the conducter of the London Symphony Orchestra in the scene in the Albert Hall.5 Despite this, and many other great results for the duo such as North By Northwest in 1959, the two fell out over the musical score for Torn Curtain in 1966. Herrmann held a firm belief in independence from influence of the director. Ever since his days working with Orson Welles, he believed that he should have complete control over the music: “I have the final say, or I don’t do the music. The reason for insisting on this is simply, compared to Orson Welles, a man of great musical culture, most other directors are just babes in the woods. If you were to follow their taste, the music would be awful. There are exceptions. I once did a film The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941) with a wonderful director William Dieterle. He was also a man of great musical culture. And Hitchcock, you know, is very sensitive; he leaves me alone. It depends on the person. But if I have to take what a director says, I’d rather not do the film. I find it’s impossible to work that way.”6          

         Up until Marnie, Hitchcock had been surrendering his authority over the music entirely to Herrmann, something he had never done to anyone else. However, during the production of Torn Curtain, Hitchcock allegedly began to receive pressure from Universal Studios to update the sound of the film to include more pop and jazz influences, and he was worried that his style and Herrmann's was becoming too old fashioned. Herrmann initially agreed with this sentiment, and the two began production on the film, a Cold War espionage thriller starring Paul Newman and Julie Andrews. However, Herrmann then went on and scored the film as he scored the previous collaborations, in his own style and according to his own ideas – something that angered Hitchcock greatly when he listened to the sample recordings at the recording sessions at the Goldwyn stage during production. Herrmann begged Hitchcock to at least allow him to finish recording the score, believing in the correctness of it, and then make his decision. However, after a few strong words and a bitter confrontation, Hitchcock dismissed the orchestra midway through recording and cancelled all of the remaining sessions. He also fired Herrmann and later, during a follow up phone conversation, began berating the stunned composer for stabbing him in the back. Known for having one of the biggest tempers in Hollywood, Herrmann screamed back that Hitchcock had abandoned his creative integrity and that the studio had got the better of him by offering him more money. Herrmann was replaced by British composer John Addison, who provided a score that is seen by many to be lacking in comparison with what Herrmann could have brought. As Herrmann himself had predicted, Torn Curtain was both a critical and financial disaster, the title itself being significantly ironic considering that the film is now known more for the parting of ways between Herrmann and Hitchcock as opposed to the quality of the film itself. This one short phone call ended what would become regarded as one of the greatest creative collaborations in Hollywood history, and Hitchcock and Herrmann never spoke again. By this stage, both were relatively near the end of their careers – Hitchcock would only make three more features after Torn Curtain, and Herrmann would disappear after the collapse of the studio system, and would only enjoy a brief stint in the spotlight when new directors such as Brian De Palma and Martin Scorcese began to seek old-school classical scores for their films. 7          Herrmann died in his sleep on Christmas Eve, 1975 – one day after completing the recording sessions for Taxi Driver, which to many is his final masterpiece. Both Hitchcock and Herrmann have their place reserved in cinematic history because of their earlier efforts, the two playing off each other excellently, creating iconic music for iconic scenes. Their friendship didn't last, ultimately I'm sure to both of their dismay. Despite their stubborn personalities and the bitterness about the split, the two felt some sort of admiration and respect for each other, especially Herrmann. The mutual love and creative friendship they built did not disappear entirely. Brian De Palma, when trying to get Herrmann on board for Sisters, showed him a cut of the film with the score for Marnie tracked to it. Herrmann was not amused, and berated him mercilessly for presuming that he knew better on how the film should and would be scored. “But Hitchcock,” De Palma pleaded. “You, Sir,” replied Herrmann, “are not Hitchcock.”.8

1Beyond the Soundtrack, edited by Daniel Goldmark, Lawrence Kramer, and Richard Leppert, Page 151

2http://bernardschopen.tripod.com/herrmann.html

3http://hitchcock.tv/people/herrmann.html

4100 Film Soundtracks, Page 186 & 187, Philip Brophy

5http://www.bernardherrmann.org/articles/misc-torncurtain/

6http://www.wellesnet.com/?p=176

7http://www.bernardherrmann.org/articles/misc-torncurtain/

8http://www.bernardherrmann.org/articles/misc-torncurtain/