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Posts tagged “TV

Twin Peaks: The Return (2017)

TPIf there was a glimmer of joy in what will go down in history as one of the most shameful, scandal drenched periods of the moving image industry it was of course David Lynch and Mark Frost’s  triumphant return to our screens with Twin Peaks, a mere twenty four years,  6 months and 21 days since the domestic release of Fire Walk With Me.  Spectacularly unburdened from any creative molestation from the  studio suits and granted an impossible to believe complete freedom of expression it is pure, unadulterated Lynch, bookending his incredible career with another epochal upending of the traditions of formal visual storytelling , as well as serving as simultaneous celebration and summation of his entire forty year career. Can we now speak of an expanded Lynchian Universe™, as per the current vogue for entire franchise landscapes populated by small and large screen spigots which suckle nourishing material for the parched fans of the DCU, Marvel, Star Wars or J.K. Rowlingverse? Perhaps not, but as a parade of his greatest collaborators over the past four decades (Badalamenti, McLachlan, Dern, Coulson, Watts, Stanton, editor Duwayne Dunham, casting director Johanna Ray and DP Peter Deming) it also served as a final cosmic stew of Lynch’s fiction fetishes, his celebration of dream logic, internal damnation and the power of ideas, of the eternal and colossal struggle between the light and dark rendered as starkly as the alternating zig-zag ziggurats slithering across the Black Lodge’s floor. A mere hour or so in its May debut I sensed just how much of this was going to explore the series mysterious interdimensional mythos, relaxing into a treat as we plunged over that Great Northern Hotel waterfall into pure Eraserhead era eugenics. I still can’t believe that something so abstract has permeated the strict hermetics of the TV formula even in this era of hundreds of channels and streaming services, but then again that’s exactly what he achieved back in 1990, only this time he’s really gone to fucking town,

For a show titled Twin Peaks we really don’t spend too much time there do we? For us Lynchophiles this was a, well, a dream, his cacophonous aesthetic which he honed with Mullholland Drive sharpened over 18 mischievous hours with final resolutions leaving more questions posed than ever answered – beware ye from going forward for here be spoilers. I loved that narrative threads and ideas are not even remotely metabolised, merely spun like a web from some crepuscular core to form a discordant yet umbilical patchwork of moods, incidents and trauma.  Just as the 1990’s incarnation operated (at least on one of numerous levels) as a satire on the contemporary soap and TV drama  format Frost and Lynch continue to toy with the core notions of narrative itself, of cause and effect within the fictitious headspace that we all conjure internally when we watch a film, read a book or even listen to a song. Like a bittersweet, slowly expiring dream fading from the purlieus of memory Twin Peaks: The Return was also riven with a sense of melancholy and tragedy, seeing Catherine Coulson (whose relationship with Lynch tracks all the way back to the early 1970’s) reprise of the Log Lady while in thrall to final stage cancer was deeply sad, not to mention the loss of both Miguel Ferrer, Bowie and Warren Frost before the series aired. Now, I loathe the entire social media tsunami outpourings of grief when a celebrity or public figure passes on, it is in no way relevant to the actual respect or affection that the figure actually engendered and is totally about the Twitter or Facebooker signalling their virtue and their self importance, but that said I am a little frustrated with myself for not remarking on the passing of Harry Dean Stanton given that he’s among my all-time favourite actors, so it was comforting to see him grace us with one final, appropriately moving swan-song;

So long HD, long may the code endure. The fact that a number of the Sight & Sound cadre of worldwide critics have selected it as among the best of the year has caused commotion, and it’s a testament to the merging of the small and silver screens, the usurping of streaming services over traditional media that  such a venerable institution now actively seeks nominations from across the moving image realm and no longer restrict the entries from just the theatrical production model. As usual, the commentary has been terrific. One reviewer remarked of this year’s Silver medal winner that ‘It’s not TV or cinema, it’s an uncanny law unto itself’. Another identified the Jacques Tati influenced antics of Dougie as he navigated the perils of both the Las Vegas housing project he found himself unceremoniously materialised within  and  the corporate landscape populated by mobsters, quivering showgirls, and backstabbing colleagues. Others have noted how the live acts at the Bang Bang! bar act as a tonal bridge between episodes, while how Lynch confidently expands scenes and sequences simply to let the series breathe as much as he nonchalantly turns his back on the conventions of entertainment constrained into the traditional 43 minute plus 17 minutes adverts hour long units of corporate mandated time. It was quite a dizzying nocturnal exercise, staying up until the early morning hours of Monday morning for the UK transmission almost every week, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t simply stream an entire series in one bloated digestion rather than anxiously await each weekly instalment.  Those first half run episodes were staggering, a truly avant-garde assault on the senses, causing me to  giggle like a sleep deprived hyena that this could pass for popular entertainment in today’s formulaic firmament – yeah, so it is reasonably clichéd at this point but I have to ask, ‘gotta light?’;

Throughout the series Lynch folds space and time like the melange addicted Navigators of Dune,  the very first scene inciting queries and compulsions which were partially revealed 5 months and plateaus of space and time later. Frequently time as a narrative construct is elongated and compressed concertina style not just over episode arcs but also in individual scenes, Sarah Palmer in particular the victim of some malevolent daemon manipulating her reality for its own, abstract amusement.  Alongside the mourning Twin Peaks also offers a mediation on the passage of time between 1990 and 2017, all the characters have aged, wizened and most have suffered some tragedy or loss, a gloomy ideology punctuated by the series final piece of dialogue when Cooper puzzledly inquires ‘What year is this?’

So you may have noticed I haven’t really delved into the story that we were presented with, the twin alignments of BadCoop evading the clutches of the lodge while being pursued by the Knights Templar of the FBI, while amnesiac reconstructed GoodCoop wrestled with his new found identity as a Being There akin Mid-Western insurance officer.  That decision is fostered by the fact that I don’t care, reason and logic sacrificed on the altar of mood and tempo. The plot was secondary to the overall experience of the show, of simply letting the images and ideas wash over you without any intellectual inspection, as it was quite clear from episode one that this was a work that operates primarily on Lynch’s instincts, occasionally steered through the turbulence of incoherence into the blue skies of logic by co-pilot scribe Mark Frost. I do have my personal favourite moments to be sure, and it was certainly fun to inspect the numerous fan theories and theorising on-line, but there are simply no definitive answers other than those that you as viewer bring to the table which for me is the function of truly great works of art. To isolate one example of hundreds in the show is it significant that the terrifying  head-crushing, zippo seeking woodsmen has a similar visage to Abraham Lincoln? Undoubtedly. Is Lynch going to explain what he means by that (and in fact does he even consciously know)? Of course not. To explain is to destroy, to evaporate the magic and diminish the audiences interpretation, forging a fixed path of cognition which serves no master;

Still eerily terrifying, no? The techniques were also a summation of the Lynchian aesthetic, yes we were subjected to the atypical strobing effects, the frankly terrifying omni-dimensional audio mix, the over and under-cranking chittering film speeds, and his utterly unique Norman Rockwell Americana perverted through the lens of 20th century European surrealism. But these techniques seemed refined and finalised in this coda defining work, concocting a witch’s brew  that left me in awe – the shift of space and place via B&W and colour photography alone is majestic.  I can’t think of many filmmakers who can oscillate through nodal points of the same themes without getting stale and repetitive, but his deployment of Doppelgängers, a binary light dark motif he has  instructed through Lost Highway, Mullholland Drive and Inland Empire remains fascinating and interesting, curdled with bouts of remorseless violence and trauma which the most legendary of horror directors can’t equal. OK, yes, I’ll admit to being a little conflicted at some of the decisions, the entire Las Vegas mobsters / GoodCoop arc didn’t entirely work for me, series primary antagonist Bob being dispatched by a Cockney armed with green washing up glove seemed somewhat anticlimactic, and the lack of resolution or indeed illustration of Audrey Horne’s story was frustrating, her suggested mental cage hinting at deeper, comatose horrors following the climax of Season 2. But we were blessed with this transcendent moment which operates as simultaneous tribute to her popular persona in the original series and a leitmotif of Lynch and his work,  a fallen angel weaving narcotically in the throes of (to steal a phrase) some sort of ‘Bunuelian limbo’;

There is a nice documentary on Dave’s early career doing the rounds by the way. I will keep my gunpowder dry for the moment on that sequence in Episode 8, the cement of an hour of intravenous information which has instantly instilled itself as among the finest hours of television ever broadcast in any period from any country, a sequence I aim to include on my final ever entry to this blog – there is a method to my madness. It is rare but sometimes you just know when watching something for the first time that you are witnessing a potential masterpiece, an immediate entry into the cultural lexicon (the last time I remember thinking this was during the Under The Skin premiere in Toronto) and its detonation is a masterstroke which evokes Stan Brakhage, Mark Rothko, and dare I say it Stanley Kubrick, the terrifying resurgence of a species threatening event which we had hoped been stunned into hibernation at the alleged conclusion of the Cold War. Similarly the last two hours of the series were among the most gripping I’ve spent in front of a screen over the past few years, literally returning to the scene of the crime to reconceptualise and reframe the entire series and its wider cultural phenomenon. As I’m sure you’ve heard the final scene was shot at the real world Palmer house location with its real, present day 2017 occupant answering to Cooper and Laura, igniting a final, horrific, howling primordial scream – guillotine cut, run muted titles & a silent whisper, then get thee to a nunnery. Was Twin Peaks: The Return a momentous statement, apt for our current oppressive and apprehensive times? You betcha, but there is always hope among the darkness, like the dream of the Robins, two souls offering  some relief, among the encroaching dark;


Miguel Ferrer RIP (1955 – 2017)

Well, as if this week wasn’t already looking grim, my favourite character in Twin Peaks just passed away. Fortunately he is in the new series so he will get some sort of tribute, but this sucks. He was also great in the rarely discussed Tony Scott picture Revenge which is also a fond, historical, under appreciated favourite of mine;


Psychogenic Fugue (2017) Trailer

No, I don’t know what this entirely is, but yes, I have been following some of the sneak peeks that have been slithering from Lynch’s social media accounts – I can only assume this is some precursor to the Twin Peaks revival, and that DL has somehow levered some funds to do ‘something’ else, beyond a mere TV series excavation. With Malk. How and where these are interconnected remans a mystery, at least at this point. Consider me intrigued, but also a little worried;

Playing Lynch: Official trailer to Psychogenic Fugue from Squarespace on Vimeo.

This revelation comes hot on the heels of my first assignment extension which is a major relief, taking us into Christmas and potentially through Q1 of 2017, for which the signals are positive. So, I’m not saying I’ve celebrated with a spending carnage or anything, I mean, it’s not, like, I’ve pre-ordered the recently announced 4K enabled PS4 gaming sorcery to complement my new A/V portfolio or anything. No. That would be crazy. It’s not like I’m on the cusp of a dream, nay, a vision sparked way back in 1990 of a home use virtual experience which I’ve never forgotten since I first saw it on this long forgotten programme? Or that I’ve pre-ordered the decade in development new benchmark in virtual world entertainment which I’ve been dreaming about playing for months? That would all be a dream, wrapped in a riddle, immersed in a 7th level illusion…..


Ash Versus Evil Dead Season 2 (2016) Trailer

Well that was quick, I didn’t know they were even filming yet;


Smash TV

Working on a few things, always with the reminder that history means inevitability. Enjoy?;

Megaplex from Smash TV on Vimeo.


Stranger Things (2016) Trailer

It’s not often I divert into TV territory but a combination of small town eerie Stephen King, Dungeons & Dragons and Winnona means that yes, I will probably be giving this a d20 Charisma check for interest;


Feeling Groovy…..

Well now, it has taken a few months and numerous Netflix nomination diversions, but I am finally happy to report that I have laughed and screamed through what we can confidently term Evil Dead IV, otherwise known as last year’s tensile TV series Ash Vs. Evil Dead. To say I was overjoyed with this return to the realm of Deadities and deadly delirium would be something of an understatement, in a world plagued with weakly conceived and Executive mandated reboots this series is a near miracle, emulating a feel identical in spirit to it’s original incarnation which simply refused to dilute the groan-worthy gags or glutenous gore given the alleged small screen constraints. I laughed out loud like a maniac at certain moments, and it is pretty darn rare for a TV series to have that effect one me these days;

As a fanboy I’ll admit it was such good fun to see the return of the slapstick cartoon cruelty, the self-aware goofy quips, the entity-cam, the dutch angles and whip-pans, and of course Bruce Campbell’s claim to immortality in the form of Ash who retains his persona of something of a jerk, but a vaguely loveable and resourceful jerk. The plot as it was could be criticised as being somewhat perfunctory, but I think if you’re approaching an Evil Dead resurrection hoping for some ingenious narrative nuance then you might deserve to have your tarnished soul retched down to the deepest caverns of hell;

After Sam Raimi’s delirious direction of the opening belter the series maintained its manic energy through the portfolio of guest directors, and the hilarious violence (some of which I was genuinely surprised to see they got past the censor) and a roster of new, thinly sketched but perfectly serviceable characters kept the train on track. My initial question as to why Evil Dead III is no longer considered canon has been solved by some electronic hunting, it seems they don’t hold the rights so can’t write in elements and references to the final big screen 1990 instalment which isn’t a significant problem as they’ve just ignored the whole medieval instalment to maintain focus and ferocity. I’m pretty sure Season 2 has already been commissioned which might be a little overkill as the season was probably three or four episodes too long, but I guess as long as the maintain the quip quotient and that extremely difficult to achieve balance of horror and comedy then this will be worth another tango around the block. A corpse quenched congratulations to Raimi and the gang for an absolute nightmare dream return to form, I fucking loved it and am looking for some more sulphurous sugar baby. With the news of a new Halloween remake, potentially directed by Mike Oculus Flanagan and produced by Carpenter 2016 is looking more and more gruesome. Suffice to say that TV has been a hell of a lot more successful that movies in delivering quality material this year for us geriatric genre and gore hounds;


BFI Alan Clarke Season – Made In Britain (1983)

mib1Although competing priorities are conspiring against me I did manage to program a second visit to the BFI’s Alan Clarke season, primarily driven by the rumoured appearance of a certain special, gutshot guest. Whilst I would have liked to devote more time to this specific British brutalist other priorities have smacked me in the head like a sock filled with snooker balls, although if I’m honest whilst I would have liked to have seen the ruthless Elephant again Clarke only other notorious film Scum didn’t particularly appeal on the big screen, especially considering its harrowing scenes and darkly depressing infrastructure – I guess I’m getting soft in my advancing years. So that left Made In Britain on the agenda, another one of Clarke’s most controversial TV pieces, initially airing to an inevitably hostile tabloid response way back in those grim, Thatcherite reigned early 1980’s. In his very first screen acting role Tim Roth is the snarling yet undeniably intelligent skinhead Trevor, estranged from every institution of civil society, hovering on the brink of an inevitable tumble into serious crime with no recourse to reverse his self-inflicted imprisonment and isolation from his teachers, his family and community – and he’s only fifteen years old. Exiled from the parental home Trevor drifts through a bureaucratic limbo, the only authority figure showing him a modicum of interest being his song suffering case worker (Eric Richard, whom UK viewers may recognise from The Bill), shuffled from one Council shelter to assessment centre as he rages against life like a belligerent bulldog. Even those with the patience of saints have a breaking point however, so when Trevor’s attitude and behaviour results in another spate of racist spewed violence he risks being completely exiled from the care system, a semiotic symptom of a wider indifference toward an entire class and strata of society in the dawning of the neo-liberalist era.

mib2I think then That We Need To Talk About Trevor? Scathing performances and grim social purpose aside you have to admire of Made In Britain for the utter rejection of providing any answers , of suggesting any ‘solution’ to Trevor and his ugly idiot ideology, his demeanour arising more from frustration and ignorance than any genuine streak of vicious psychopathy. The piece was commissioned for the then terrestrial post-watershed schedule, back when there were only three channels in the UK, an ancient broadcasting landscape when any vague controversy concerning sex, violence or political subterfuge would get the establishment and its right-wing media lackeys salivating with self-righteous outrage. It’s a symbolic state of the nation constructed work as we follow Trevor’s descent through the tired and disinterested care and social service system, not without its genuinely committed and skilled officers but still representative of a unyielding and cold, suffocating state. Whilst it is obvious to loathe Trevor, recoil at the pathetic racial epithets he barks and the thuggish destructive he wields you also feel his impotent, seething rage, no matter how self-inflected and repugnant his actions and juvenile attitudes. This is one of the key points of the film, of somehow trapping that sense of misdirected and ethereal rage, channelled through a contemporary bogeyman – the skinhead. Unsurprisingly, the shock and outrage of the gutter press after transmission was another example of hypocritical double standards, bleating complaints of igniting copy-cat behaviour which of course their misleading editorials and manufactured stories never do, with accusations of celebrating not slamming the dispossessed and feral youth of the 1980’s which seems to re-emerge on a cyclical cycle every few years – Trevor is clearly a prototype to the Chavs, to rampaging inner city multi-racial gangs, to being ‘swamped’ with immigrants and other middle-class directed hysteria.

mib3Roth is malignantly magnetic as the explosive central character, arguably one of the most incendiary screen debuts of the past few decades, but it’s not entirely his show. The prowling, anxious steadicam work, piloted by the great DP Chris Menge’s became Clarke’s trademark in its seething Made In Britain debut, shadowing his characters restless intensity as it arcs through space and civic spaces, character and craft meeting in symbolic symbiosis. Clarke explained to Roth during shooting that he should ‘treat the camera as his eye to the world’, the mechanism to pull them into Trevor ugly reality, confronting an audience rather than comforting them. During one incredible scene led by one of Trevor’s senior welfare case workers (Geoffrey Hutchings) we witness what I can only describe as a social worker soliloquy, an unbroken speech talking Trevor and by osmosis the audience through his inevitable descent to prison after his school has referenced him to the LEA officer, the Lea officer has referred him to a care officer, the care officer referred him to an assessment centre, the assessment centre, a dark inevitable whirlpool down to prison and a life of opportunity terminally wasted. That may sound like Clarke is conjuring some sympathy for Trevor and his mindless violence, but on the contrary the piece is never patronizing, it never suggest any empathy for Trevor as a person or a character, instead it inverts the world back through that magic lantern lens and murmurs ‘this is a problem, what do you want to do about it?’ Location wise it’s the grimly sour, near dystopian vision hellscape of cluttered Council estates and concrete jungles, with the searing image of Trevor striding purposely through the Rotherhithe tunnel being one of the iconic images of 1980’s broadcasting.

mib4Hosted by Clarke cultist Danny Leigh the Q&A featured writer David Leland, producer Margaret Matheson and the coup of Tim Roth mediated through a stable Skype reception as he was currently shooting in Scotland, so it was nice of him to find the time to pay due respect to the man who launched his career unlike some personalities who never bothered to attend this season *coughsraywinstonecoughs*. Alas the emphasis meant that there was no time to discuss Mr. Orange in Reservoir Dogs, no honey-bunny in Pulp Fiction, no Archibald in Rob Roy (an underrated villain), nor Prince Rainer in the spectacularly terrible Grace Of Monaco, but it’s probably best to ignore the last one. Still, Roth was terrific fun, relaxed and gregarious, talking through the almost miraculous luck of being spotted and cast in his first professional role, embarking on a career with a class of director of Clarke’s pedigree which has spoiled much of his subsequent experiences. The producers delved into the controversial history with the profligate swearing and questions about the play being asked in the House Of Commons – it seems that 1983 was a more placid time when it came to such moral transgressions – while soberly remarking that despite the explosion of delivery options, companies and corporations the likes of Channel 4 and the BBC just don’t commission pieces like this anymore, and that Made In Britain was actually an ITV commission. Questions were asked, as they always are at these events, of the potential of a sequel updating us to where Trevor would be now, You’re probably on the same wavelength so it won’t surprise you to hear the panel muse that he’d probably be a hedge fund analyst quaffing oysters and crashing Ferrari’s in the city, a smart individual with undeniable talents, raised in an utterly selfish and self obsessed ideology that firmly emphasises the individual ahead of the collective and cohesive good. It’s scathing, severe stuff which hasn’t dated in the last thirty years, with another arrogant and elite obsessed government in power whose leaders and families scorn and sneer at those outside of their privileged experience, proof again that the more things change, the more they stay the same;


The Menagerie Films Of The Year 2015

chinaRather stupidly when I started writing this annual round-up I assumed that the big story of the year would be exodus, of innocent civilians shrouded in war and suffering fleeing to safety on a scale unprecedented in Europe since the Second World War. This was in September, before Paris, (just writing the phrase ‘before capital city tragedy X’ in a portentous way makes me feel like we’re in a dystopian SF novel), before San Bernardino, before the staggering idiocy, misogyny and racism of Trump, and before my country deciding again to bomb and murder innocent civilians and spend millions to do so despite our so called age of austerity – I join the choir in opining that this is not a year I’ll be sorry to see fade away. The inevitable, reminiscent of 2002 lurch to the right across the so-called First World is depressingly predictable and familiar, the demonization of entire swathes of peaceful people and intensified ordinance to kill and maim more innocent bystanders unstoppable, which of course is exactly what these medieval fucks want to foster further hatred and support for their twisted ideology. Still, at least we got our act together as a species and incurred a historic agreement while the planet chokes, except, alas we didn’t. Oh well, while the bleak and oppressive coalesces into a new waterlogged year at least we can retire to the fantasy of the movies, if only for a couple of hours escapism from the anxious ambiance of modern life. Movie-wise I’m afraid that I must concur that at best it’s been an average year, as always there are some great movies but the median of what I saw was average at best, and many of my top ten are more four star winners than five-star masterpieces. What is interesting is casting my eyes over the list I’m intrigued to see that six of my top ten are fronted by female characters, an anomaly I’m sure is pretty unusual in the leadership of so many y chromosome protagonists, so maybe that is some small glimmer of a molecule of a shift in some sort of progressive equality. For the record you might be surprised to not see The Force Awakens in my top ten which would push that tally to seven, but that’s because that experience kinda stands alone when it comes to such an arbitrary notion of ‘top-tens’. Yes it was certainly one of my most purely enjoyable and memorable cinema experiences of the year, and yes I have devoted thousands of words of coverage to what is one of the biggest movies in history, but it’s unfair in my mind to compare it to the other candidates, given the intergalactic nostalgic weight that such a movie carries. So let’s move on shall we? Ok…cool.

AmericansThe so-called golden age of TV continues, or rather more specifically it doesn’t, with something of a fluctuating year on the silver screens symmetrical sibling. I caught up with The Blacklist (solid concept, Spader was good but the writing got increasingly absurd), Ray Donovan (an impressive cast, loved the whole Hollywood ‘fixer’ concept, the sleazy scuzzball moguls and Liev Schreiber’s central character but got a little tired of the Boston crime family machinations), The Leftovers which for Damon Lindelhof was actually fairly unwatchable unlike Wayward Pines which was ridiculous like a mediocre Twilight Zone episode strung out to ten episodes,  and I mostly enjoyed riding tall with The Sons Of Anarchy, at least for the first couple of seasons before the plot contortions started getting a little stale. Much more successful was The Americans which is really getting into its stride now (how about that episode huh? You know the one I mean, early on in Season 2?), with a great attention to period detail, era specific clandestine technology and techniques, all wrapped up in the riddle of the enigma of the pulverising moral cost of espionage and murder. I’ve also thundered through a re-watch of The Wire (still amazing, but already looking like a relic of another time) and no less than eight seasons of Supernatural, a sub-par Buffy monster of the week series which was vaguely watchable. Its strengths lie with a few excellent genre themed episodes, but the series mythos episodes just couldn’t construct a coherent or attractive multiverse – think a rather homogenised re-tread of the Preacher comic book series with angels and demons taking their combat with the mortal plane, with we puny humans caught in the crossfire.

knickMad Men finished its seven season run by maintaining it’s high quality threshold, I think I’m going to miss Don, Peggy and most of all the continually odious Roger, but not the rest of the agency. Best of all through has been The Knick and Louie season 2 and 3, the latter might be one of the most quietly revolutionary series of recent years, just for that Doug Stanhope episode alone and that completely unexpected, hilarious portrayal of Mr. Dahl. The Knick was just fantastic, essentially a ten hour movie considering the sculpture lavished on production design, sound and Soderbergh’s brilliant emotional temperature themed cinematography, I can’t wait for season 2 to see what happens to those lost and vagabond 19th century souls. I also loved  American Horror Story: Freak Show (Life on Mars anyone?) Penny Dreadful Season 2 (the best on screen Call Of Cthuhu campaign thus far) and  Hannibal Season 3, and am  eagerly awaiting the initial seasons of Daredevil, Narcos, Mr. Robot,  Vinyl the new David Simon and most importantly Ash Vs Evil Dead as the small screen priorities for 2016. Maybe one of those shows will prompt to write my long gestating thoughts on my antipathy to streaming services and the general infrastructure of 21st century media digestion, and why I still maintain two physical media rental accounts – one for TV, one for movies. I guess I’m like some luddite Dutch boy poking his finger in the dyke to stem the inevitable tide, but I refuse to be dictated to by Netflix and associated exectuives as to how and when I will consume and enjoy my media.

truaffautIn terms of small screen movie seasons I went all international, which hopefully should balance with my rather American-centric choice of top ten theatre screenings . First up was the Argentinean Ken Loach without the hectoring political finger wagging Pablo Trapero, a social relist attuned auteur who is a master in bringing occasionally loveable, occasional hateful yet always vivid characters to life – check out Carancho, White Elephant and my personal favourite Leonera starring the terrific Martina Gusmán. Further afield I turned to Taiwan’s auteur par excellence Hou Hsiao-hsien whose films remain pathetically undistributed on home media in the West, despite his movies regularly getting previewed at Cannes, Venice and Berlin. I thoroughly enjoyed Three Times, Flowers Of Shanghai and Millennium Mambo, and of course he has eviscerated international audiences with this years wuxa wonder The Assassin. We’ve already discussed the work of German metaphysical thriller technician Christian Petzold with Phoenix and Barbara, another European talent whose films seem to go from strength to strength. Historically speaking I finished my Fritz Lang season and was very proud of myself for thundering through the Herzog box-set, I’ve made less progress on the Melville season but we’ll get there in the end, leaving 2016 open for sensai Kurosawa which should be quite the challenge. Now whilst like any soul with celluloid chugging through his veins I’ve seen all the key films of the French New Wave, but my full mastery of Francois Truffaut has always been lacking. Yeah, although I’ve seen The 400 Blows, Shoot The Pianist, Jules Et Jim, Day For Night, Fahrenheit 451 and the Story of Adele H my mastery of his later period has always been flagging, so inspired by this I powered through The Woman Next Door, The Man Who Loved Women, Finally, Sunday and the sublime La Mariee Etait En Noir which is a delicious vengeance noir which has proved influential on the likes of Lady Snowblood and the Kill Bill movies, in purpose and propulsion if not in style. Finally, we even managed a nuclear cluster of classics – Bicycle Thieves, Freaks, Two Lane Blacktop, Touch Of Evil, Night Moves, Double Indemnity, Come & See and of course Trog, courtesy of the beloved BFI. One of my priorities is to finally visit my local Everyman cinema at Canary Wharf which I still haven’t frequented, I might even give the new Malick a test drive there – more on that later. So onward and upward with no further delay, let us dispense with the foreplay and get liberated;

The 2015 Films Of The Year

Mad Max – Fury Road  (George Miller, USA/Australia, 2015) – One of the markers of a successful film could be measured by the quality and breadth of the debate and discussion it engenders. This methodology shouldn’t just be based on the column inchs, but also the quality of the introspection and investigation, and on that front Fury Road is probably the film of the year. There is a feast of ideological and political gristle to munch upon, and its place in the position of genre canon is immediately unassailable, and just consider what an achievement this is when you consider the results of these other 1980’s resurrections – Predators or Prometheus, that Total Recall or Robocop remake, or the stagnant materialisation of Poltergeist? Ah yes, that’s right – they all fucking suck, which makes Miller’s turbo charged triumph almost unique. Then there is the pure craftsmanship angle which leads me to this, a spoiler ridden & absolutely stunning article on the films techniques which might be the technical article of the year. By association here is why the film doesn’t resort to the traditional male gaze paradigm, and as for the lamented loss of the B&W version on the Blu-Ray don’t your TV’s have a contrast and colour setting? Now don’t go huffing your way to the chrome speckled glory of Valhalla just yet as there are two sequels en route, I just pray that Miller can maintain the momentum…..

It Follows (David Robert Mitchell, USA, 2015) – Since Tarantino weighted in with his motor-mouth opinion on the years best horror film the ghoul community has been somewhat divided, citing another sorcerous contender as the superior picture – we will exorcise that beast shortly. While I agree that it does suffer a little from a lack of coherence in the world building (why do the apparitions take the form that they do? why the tall man, or the vacant grandmother?) what it does muster to macabre effect is tone and atmosphere, and given the preponderance of cattle-prod found footage clones I’ll take any film with a sense of genuine anxiety and sub-textual strength.  Inevitably this suffers somewhat from a small screen revisit but it’s still my champion as  the horror film of the year, with that lurking sense of honeysuckle dread, of something purifying behind the sickly sweet aroma of a fading summer. I found it quite difficult to source David Robert Mitchell’s debut film which I had to order from the USA, but it’s nice to have another post Sundance independent director to cluster in with Sean Durkin, Jeff Nichols and Cary Fukunaga as careers to closely watch – there is a strange affinity among them that simultaneously embraces a nihilistic defeat and a nostalgic yearning for tangible and physical matters. Ultimately, as the title suggests, It Follows is a fond gloaming adolescence fading in the slow lurch to adulthood, signalling that inevitable and cruel stumble to mortal extinction.

Carol  (Todd Haynes, USA, 2015) – It’s always difficult to divine something new to say about a film you reviwed only a few weeks ago, so rather than preaching to the choir again let me offer you some rare criticism whom have slurred the film as ‘Todd Haynes playing with his dolls in his insular Wendy house again, fetishizing the period detail and re-treading already furrowed ground’. I’m paraphrasing Brett Easton Ellis from his entertaining podcast, although he does go on to say he liked the film, but he’s never been adverse to a little provocative posturing now has he? He has a point and it’s a similar criticism levelled at Wes Anderson and his carefully contrived whimsy, but unlike his work I found this to have a genuine emotional heart pulsing with the forlorn glances and furtive fondling.  It’s a near perfect Christmas film, as frostily romantic as a snog under the mistletoe.

Son Of Saul (László Nemes, Hungary, 2015) – It’s a rare achievement, when every aspect of film technique and technology is perfectly calibrated and attuned, all pistons working in perfect alignment to generate incendiary art. That’s the case with this harrowing, haunting film from Bela Tarr protégé László Nemes who blazes a trail across the international landscape with this incredible debut. The subject matter of the holocaust speaks for itself but it’s Nemes synthesised approach which is staggering, the thundering sound design, the claustrophobic, choking aspect ratio, the visual techniques and formulated focus decisions. Somehow though, and this is from one devastating screening, it is that  absolute hopelessness of the story which still treasures some minor molecule of decent humanity in the face of such an obliterating and unyielding void.

Ex Machina (Alex Gibney, UK/USA, 2015) – It’s a rare treat these days, a genuine SF film brimming with contemporary ideas which spills into the current technological fulcrum, but Ex Machina sips at this chrome laced chalice without resorting to the cloaking devices of space opera nor free-basing the latest franchise. I loved the economic storytelling, no doubt restricted by a restrained budget, so Caleb (Gleeson) winning the competition to spend a week at the remote Alpine (R&D lab of futurist seer Nathan (Isaac) has them interacting within six minutes of the opening titles, and intellectually grappling with the prototype A.I. Ava (Vikander) in twelve. Gibney has evidently assimilated all the recent speculation and debates around artificial intelligence and its vast implications, capturing some of the complexities of the debate in intellectually digestible morsels, effortlessly able to regurgitate them in characters oral delivery systems that even a primitive like me could understand real good. A second viewing revealed some quite clever gradients in how Ava and Caleb’s relationship becomes incrementally closer and is communicated through framing and planar positions, all framed within that stone bleached Nordic Ragnarök. Given the specific plot contortions I don’t accept the critiques that the film is guilty of simultaneously participating in the male gaze and exploiting the actresses forms for mere gratification, given that the character of Ava is a direct corollary of the subconscious of both the privileged male characters in the Eden alike enclave – that’s not indulging in the patriarchy, it is reflecting it, a central theme of identity politics in the film which is also  embedded in the visual aesthetics of ergonomically symmetrical surfaces and porous architecture. I really admire this film, the writing is terrific, technically astute while mustering a sense of menace and danger, all the way through to the ambiguous endgame of those cerebral cat & mouse computations that scuttle along the algorithm of characters. In ancient myth a deux ex machina was an all-powerful deity introduced to close the story and begat a new chapter, as Nathan’s foolish tampering with the pixellated flame of creation seems to ignite the end of meatkind and harness the spark of the singularity – welcome to the adolescent shrugs of the 21st century. Major spoilers abound here in this astute essay on the film.

BlackHat (Michael Mann, USA, 2014) – When I acquired the Blu of this film I also nabbed the Blu of Thief, Mann’s first theatrical feature and in broad strokes they are very much alike, perhaps supporting that old adage that directors only really make one film, which they repeat again and again throughout their career. Blackhat was completely misjudged by the majority of critics and audiences if the box office is any judgement, but with cyber-crime now a very real destructive entity that nation states wage wars by proxy I predict this will be seen as a harbinger in years and conflicts to come. Career wise Mann has hacked the system, as his last three films have broadly failed financially and critically,  yet he still levers $150 million budgets out of the studios including his recently announced long  gestating  Ferrari bio-pic. Hemsworth may be miscast but this still remains a impeccably researched, authentic cyber-thriller which treats its material seriously, with gorgeous digital vistas mirroring the travelogue narrative, and some of the most kinetic action sequences from one of the all-time masters of the form. The sense of a interconnected, globalised world that started with Miami Vice is evolved here, a film which organically feels like a 21st century artefact through its sublimations of tensile and ubiquitous technology, of border breaching finance and the growing dominance of the Asian sphere against the EU and the US – something we’ll come back to at the end of this post. Most of all though its about people clinging to each other in a cruel and inhospitable world, a perennial theme of Mann, with a rather more optimistic conclusion that most filmmakers of his generation.

Inside Out (Peter Docter, USA, 2015) – Yes, you can stop emitting that comedic gasp and rubbing your eyes in mock exaggerated disbelief, yes there is a Disney, or rather more specifically a Pixar film appearing on my top ten list of 2015. Clearly I am going soft and mellowing in my old age, but truth be told when it comes to the animated realm this is just about the only studio I have even the remotest interest in, and even after a half-decade of relative duds my interest has significantly waned since the triumphs of Wall-E and Up!. When it comes to their spectacular return to form I am simply in awe, not only of the character designs, of the breadth of catering to audience segments without pandering and of course the exquisite state of the art animation, no, it is the writing and meld of narrative, plot and form which is verging on the genius. It’s difficult to articulate without specific spoilers but the way that Riley’s emotions are driven in certain directions and how this plays out along her emotional cartography is just breath-taking in scope, control and inspiration, not to mention the intelligent asides and hilarious adjuncts such as that listed above. I’m man enough to admit that I was weeping like a virulent strain of trench-foot at numerous moments in the final act, an emotional reaction which is a distinct rarity in any form of media consumption of any ilk these days, those Pixar prestidigitators somehow tapping into that awkward and long suppressed childish core in all of us. It’s difficult to conjure up an adult orientated movie which similarly charts the psychic labyrinth of the mind that yields such universal insights, now….now if you’ll excuse me (sniffs)…I think I’ve got something in my eye….it’s….it’s a bit dusty around here isn’t it?…..

Cop Car (Jon Watts, USA, 2015) – The first thing to remark about this impressive debut thriller from writer director Jon Watts is how much a review by-line made me laugh with the punning title ‘Sneaky Bacon’. If I was lazy – and I am – I’d cite this as 2015’s Blue Ruin, an inventive, refreshingly original low budget potboiler, where two mischievous rural reared kids steal the titular police car of corrupt lawman Kevin Bacon. The boys irascible behaviour becomes deadly serious when we learn of the contraband that Bacon has secreted in his vehicle, meaning he will stop at nothing, not even infanticide, to retrieve his property. Great evocative landscapes, the kids aren’t flown in from central casting and seem like normal, inquisitive and clumsy adolescents, and Bacon really seems to be carving himself a genuinely eclectic career in his advancing years – hell, it beats those awful broadband adverts. I like a film when you’re constantly questioning how on earth are they going to stretch the premise out and they manage to outfox you, while never being predictable or cliché. There’s a little of the dangerous naivety of Badlands in the setting and feel of some scenes, and a gentle sprinkling of gallows humour to relieve the cruel intentions of the adult world.

Phoenix (Christian Petzler, Germany, 2015) – From the ashes of our most staggering and genocidal conflicts arises Phoenix, embedded with a narcotic fugue of shifting allegiances, stolen identities, guilt and resurrection imprinted against a World War II psychological mystery story. With echoes and rhythms of The Third Man, Eyes Without A Face and of course Vertigo it is operating in some long shadows, and although some of the plot contrivances are a little difficult to accept, well, c’mon, it is only a movie. The final scene is one of those moments, those crescendos that only cinema does so well, the years of suffering, struggling and shooting, of pre and post production blood, sweat and tears marshalling one final transcendental moment. Sublime.

Sicario  (Denis Villeneuve, USA, 2015) – If I’m honest, I didn’t stumble out of the theatre utterly shell-shocked which was my initial expectation given the praise the film has raised, and citing this as ‘the best Michael Mann he never made’ was bound to get me over excited. Sicario is much more of a slow and tempered burn, one of those films which has continued to resurface with a shrapnel of images and half remembered scenes and moments, with an unexpected emphasis shift in the final act which truly frogmarches the audience into troubled and troubling waters. The drug war, four decades in the making is illuminated in all its incompetent and failed procedures, with no end in reasonable sight – the horror  continues, day after day. The two fantastic set-pieces are immortalised with Deakins genius cinematography, and this all bodes well for the Blade Runner sequel which I’m still convinced the world doesn’t need, but if we must have it then these guys have a shot at making something interesting at the very least.

guestAs usual there is further marrow in the bones to be gnawed, so I can also heartily recommend Mission Impossible V, Macbeth, Wild Tales for the wedding scene alone, The Lobster, The Force Awakens, Bone Tomahawk and at a patriotic push High-Rise. Then there’s The Guest and Stations Of The Cross which crossed over from 2014 releases to 2015 viewings for me, A Most Violent Year stands up on a revisit, although alas a Blu-Ray smoke of Inherent Vice diminished even further for me from the cinema visit. I know this will appear on a number of year end lists under the aegis of ‘why I got Inherent Vice and you didn’t you philistine’ but no, I got it alright, but ole PTA just didn’t muster an arresting tale with that cast and that material, and the atmosphere of indiscriminate anxiety dissipates away like a zephyr bong hit of Doc’s primo sensai. Documentary wise Hitchcock/Truffaut was essential for any cinephile, Precinct Seven-Five was a James Ellroy novel brought to real world, The Look Of Silence was a brilliant companion to Joshua Oppenhiemer’s The Act Of Killing while Going Clear was quite the damning revelation of Scientology’s sick soul.

Retrospective Films

Paper Moon (Peter Bogdanovich, USA, 1973) – It’s rare but it happens, that the Mint has some gap in his viewing portfolio which requires immediate rectification. I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve seen this, one of the lesser known 1970’s New Hollywood films, it’s not exactly uttered in the same breath as Taxi Driver or The Godfather but it did have quite an impact back in 1973. In my defence for some reason I had this tangled up with What’s Up Doc?, Bogdanovich’s warm tribute to early Hollywood, also starring Ryan O’Neil and the sadly missed Madeline Khan. It’s a depression era road movie, something of a curious counterpart to 1973’s Oscar winner The Sting, with O’Neil’s grifter partnering up with the similarly criminal Tatum O’Neil as they fleece the gullible across the Midwest, and maybe learning a few lessons about themselves along the way. That probably sounds hideous but this is essential viewing for Laslzo Kovacs breath-taking monochrome photography alone, in with stylish flourishes which nod specifically to Welles, particularly with some deep focus arrangements and considered camera moves that energize character scenes. It’s not up there with The Last Picture Show, it lacks that masterpieces melancholy timelessness, but it’s a fine evocation of a period, and a warm emphasis on co-operation and growth which might be saccharine to some yet found me receptive at exactly the right time. The new Blu-Ray looks fantastic, and has a solid 45 minutes of coverage on the preparation, shooting and movies subsequent reaction, including decent explanation of Bogdanovich’s specific style, the use of long takes and clever transitions between acts and movements. They really don’t make ’em like this anymore…..

Yella (Christian Petzold, Germany, 2007)Haneke meets Herk Harvey in this curiously affecting mystery film, beginning with a young women’s efforts to evade the lethal attention of her obsessive disgruntled boyfriend. You’ll note that this is an earlier film from Phoenix director Christian Petzold whom discovered this year, just prior to the spike in media attention launched from his new film, and the rising profile of his frequent muse Nina Hoss. As we know I’m big on atmosphere and can forgive a film numerous failures if it at least manifests some tangible, tensile tractor beam of intensity, a factor which this film inspired by the cult movie classic Carnival Of Souls manages with the ruthless efficiency of a Goldman Sachs corporate takeover. Awakening from a near fatal accident as seen above our heroine becomes involved in the corporate world, an environment of identikt office spaces and the same blank eyed corporate drones, while underneath a strange current of unease and anxiety lurks at the corners of the frame. I’ll say no more as to avoid spoilers, but this is one of those ambiguous yet quietly beguiling modern thrillers, and a hauntingly prescient prologue to the financial earthquake of 2008 whose tremors seem to coalescing for another explosion…..

Contamination (Luigi Cozzi, Italy, 1980) – You’ve got to hand it to the Italians, they were absolutely shameless in their synthesis of successful movies of the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, churning out B movie clones of popular pictures with just a drizzle of exploitation gunge to satisfy the greasy palmed exhibitors. Contamination was awarded a Blu-Ray Arrow release this year and this was the first time I’d seen this blatant Alien rip-off, except instead of having a chestburster sequences we have full bodybursting balletics, showering the screen with enough gloopy entrails to satisfy a feral pack of immature and ravenous gorehounds. It’s wildly uneven and frankly incompetent in many ways, with some horrible performances and dialogue which would make Michael Bay redden with shame. But, it has guts in all sorts of ways, and as some bizzarro world hybrid of H.R. Giger, The Thing, Invasion Of The Body Snatchers and the two Martians from The Simpsons it is hilariously entertaining – I particularly loved the pulsing Overmind showdown with the strangely unsettling alpha centurai prime intellect as seen above.

The Last Detail  (Hal Ashby, USA, 1973) – We’re talking a potential candidate for the all-time best here, a possible contender for assaulting the impregnable barricades of my all-time favourite top twenty movies, as every time I watch this it gets better, more genuine and honest. I’ve seen this a dozen times or more over the years on numerous late night screenings, and yet another re-watch on a 2am Film4 schedule did nothing to diminish Hal Ashby’s brilliant, authoritarian ensemble. It is the very ethos of 1970’s New Hollywood, focusing on a duo of working class grunt MP’s taking a young private to the stockade for a minor infraction, one part social document to two parts political metaphor for the system crushing hopes and dreams with its implacable and inhospitable cruelty. When Jack leaves us I’ve no doubt that the show-reel they play will be all his big moments from Cuckoo’s Nest, The Shining, his Oscar-winning turn in As Good As It Gets, Burton’s Batman and maybe his breakthrough role in Easy Rider. These are all great facets to an extraordinary career but for me this is the primary source of his archetypical grizzled charisma in all its full cigar stained plumage, an unsophisticated rogue with a hidden heart of gold. The film is gloriously  devoid of sentimentality as the final scenes spool, and you really feel that this slice of life, this 48 hours spent with these three men meant something, even if you can’t quite articulate what or why.

Colossus: The Forbin Project (Joseph Sargent, USA, 1970)I could easily write a full 1,500 review on this but we’ll keep this brief. You could, if you liked, consider Colossus as a brother to the warnings of HAL’s soulless paranoia only two years earlier, not to mention both films umbilical links to the arrogant Strangelove lunacy of the military industrial complex. The Pentagon’s ultimate supercomputer has been tasked with removing human error from the crisis laden cold war culture, and been handed the reigns of the US nuclear arsenal. A small complication – the Soviets have secretly developed an identical system which quickly comes to the same logical conclusion of the American mainframe, that humans are too stupid to run the world so they both hold the planet to nuclear ransom as our new binary overlords. I remember seeing this on the old schedule of BBC2 6pm movies when the thought of a speaking computer was still the stuff of impossible futurism, with that sermon on the mount echo modulated voice a Skynet fragment of troubled cyberpunk dreams. Colossus is intellectual, sociology programmed SF, cleaving closer to Tron, Demon Seed, Wargames and in some senses The Matrix rather than certain returning space operas or Buck Rogers warped imperialism. Technology run amok and evolving beyond our control is a staple of the 1970’s SF genre, and what they got wrong is as amusing as what the film got right. The mainframe hulk is the size of a mountain which is hilarious given what we know about miniaturisation, while the characters debate the oppositions of  meat-space and cyberspace in a specifically late 1960’s idiom – there’s plenty of Martini fuelled lunches,  pipe smoking boffins imperceptibly concerned with their unruly creations, all garbed in Edith Head’s period classical costumes. Some may say our electronic tools are out of control – think Gamergate, ISIS recruitment models, the inevitable entire corporatisation of the web,  so maybe as the film amusingly suggests our nuclear brinksmanship balance of civilisation wouldn’t suffer from a little godlike guidance.

Films To See In 2016

February (Oz Perkins, USA, 2016) – Presumably this will be released in the hyperborean habitat of two months hence? Very strong word of mouth precedes this from both TiFF and Fantastic Fest, I really like the portentous tone struck by that well-engineered trailer, the location of an isolated boarding school is rich in metaphor, and some glimpses of imagery have got my ghoulish goose-bumps groaning in glee. The casting of Sally Draper from Mad Men also seems inspired, and we haven’t had a decent Satan worship movie since The House Of The Devil some years back unless it’s all in someone’s head? As for its horror movie pedigree can you guess who debut director Oz Perkins is related to? Well, I’d ask mother but she’s not feeling herself today….

Knight Of Cups (Terence Malick, USA, 2016) – After the vague unease I felt around To The Wonder I’m similarly hesitant about Malick’s latest during this hot streak of three films in five years, but this second trailer has certainly got the celebrity blood pumping – is this his modern age Sunset Boulevard or his millennium graced The Bad & The Beautiful?. Initial festival word has been mixed hence my continual apprehension, with particular emphasis on his usual shtick wearing a little thin – ethereal, disconnected mood montages dominating all form, the continual and suspicious placing of female characters on pedestals, a disjoined and alientating disregard of narrative. As of November 2015 it is quite telling that this new hymn hasn’t picked up a European distributor, a mystery which I think speaks volumes of the current, franchise dominated market. All well and good but at the end of the day it is ‘Terence Malick’ so c’mon, and at the very least Emmanuel Lubezski’s photography will be enough to make a cinema visit an absolute essential act of piety.

Hail Caesar! (Joel Coen, USA, 2016) – The Coens are always essential cinema fare whose work I will go and see sight unseen, but a return to Capitol Pictures of Barton Fink fame is truly a grin inducing prospect. Talk about building their own cinematic universe, with returning turns from previous collaborators Josh Brolin, Scarlett Johannson, George Clooney and Frances McDormand, one wonders why they left the two John’s – Goodman and Turturro – out of the roll call. Now they aren’t always successful when it comes to the comedies – Burn After Reading is fine, Intolerable Cruelty just about watchable but The Ladykillers is the only bona-fide dud of their entire career, but then you throw Raising Arizona into the mix  as one of their best films who knows how this might develop. Any take on golden age Hollywood will be fascinating in any sense, so I’m confident this will be bright and breezy fare.

Midnight Special (Jeff Nichols, USA, 2016) – Originally due a November 20release but pushed back four months following some test screening generated pick-ups, lets hope that these slightly worrying early indications do not reflect the final quality. Starring Kirsten Dunst,  Joel Edgerton, emo-icon Adam Driver, the always dependable Michael Shannon and Sam Shepherd this has a distinct Stephen King vibe, of a gifted person on the run from the authorities with aliens and weird stuff lurking in the background. Nichols is exceptionally strong in building suspense and atmosphere, and seeing him back with his frequent muse Michael Shannon is enough for me.

The Revenant (Alejandro G. Iñárritu, USA, 2015) – If the already legendary stories about the films tortured production weren’t enough, then the prospect of Emmanuel Lubezki – yes him again – golden hour cinematography would be enough to lure me into theatres. This looks magnificently intense, brooding and dangerous in the best possible way, taking some of the fluidic lessons learnt from Birdman out from one restrained Broadway location into the vast and cruel wilderness. What is it with the Mexicans and their long-takes eh? Iñárritu and Cuaron seem to be locked in some cinematic duel when you factor in the designs of Gravity and Children Of Men, I wonder when Del Toro will through his hat into the ring and take all of his countrymen on at their own game.

hatefulI initially was under the impression is was going to be slim pickings beyond these five, but a detailed survey of 2016’s offering has yielded potential treasures. Tarantino should get the blood pumping with The Hateful Eight in just a few weeks, also genre wise I can’t say The 5th Wave looks particularly promising, and it looks to have another alien invasion contender to battle with due to the long mooted Independence Day remake finally warping into orbit. The Pride & Prejudice & Zombies flick could be fun it they take the appropriate comedic tone, The Purge 3 could round off a reasonable B-movie inspired trilogy, and not being a pathetic internet MRA troll I’m vaguely amused to see the all female Ghostbusters re-imagining. I’m somewhat non-plussed by Bats versus Supes but of course I will go and see it, which probably goes double for the Suicide Squad project and the slightly nauseating Deadpool, instead I’m going all patriotic with Captain America – Civil War which if its anything like the last Cap movie should be much more entertaining. Speaking of blockbusters there’s the next X-Men movie, Dr. Strange is scheduled for November which has been summoned much quicker than I thought, Warcraft  holds interest to see if Duncan Jones can level cap with the full resources of a studio at his disposal, then there’s the insignificant, trifling matters of Star Trek 3 and Bourne 5.

chinaI always like to find one development of film culture as a whole to close on and I think I’ve found a subject whose name is China. There have been a number of editorial pieces urging caution as to the influence the country is having on the film industry, citing a number of high-profile deals and alliances which have fallen apart. Maybe so, but I don’t think we can ignore the fact that the country is effectively saving entire blockbusters and franchises from extinction, not only the Terminator atrocity but a vast majority of Jurassic World take was due to the foreign markets. Increasingly co-productions are being set-up with Chinese developers such as the last Mission Impossible movie, and like product placement you can sense certain products being specifically tailored for the whims and interests of the oriental market. That wasn’t the case for The Martian with the Chinese state coming to the aid of Mr. Damon as apparently that plot point was in the book, but when I was conducting my research on that I came across for me was an instructive and fascinating fact. In 1979, Alien opened on a mere 90 screens across the entire US market. Flash forward to today, and an average studio blockbuster like The Martian will open across 3,500 screens in a blitzkrieg of marketing and pyrotechnic persuasion, such is the expansion of the industry, which is also rife with IMAX, 3D, and other screening options and formats.The Force Awakens, the biggest film in history, opened on 4,134 theatres in the US. In China alone there is already 23,500 screens which is just staggering, already over half the total screens in the US, and in another three years it is predicted to have ten times the capacity of the North American market. One things for certain, the future is red, as old superpowers are eclipsed and new colonies arise;

Cinema: A Space Odyssey from somersetVII on Vimeo.


Hannibal (2015) Capsule Review

hannibaSo how was your weekend? I spent much of it working on some unspecified secret project than I hope to reveal the details of as we approach Christmas, but I also found the time to feast upon the third and final season of Hannibal. I don’t usually divert into the threshing waters of TV criticism here but given the movie world overlaps I think you can forgive me such transgressions, especially as this series in its third and final contortion is covering the same ground as both Ridley Scott’s 2001 Hannibal and Michael Mann’s procedural masterpiece Manhunter from 1986, not to mention the atrocity of the utterly unnecessary 2002 Red Dragon adaption which the less said about the better. At an intrinsic, molecular level show runner and central creative force Bryan Fuller has orchestrated this show as grand guignol theatre of the gut-eviscerated absurd, you’d think that maybe trophy serial killers, charismatic cannibals and entrail soaked procedurals are all a bit 1990’s by now, and maybe you’d be correct if they show didn’t defiantly carve its own, fresh and deliciously gruesome ground.  Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment but watching all 13 episodes in one, uninterrupted session made me feel a little funny in the head, all the way through to that spectacular, hilariously constructed and yummy bloody finale.

I’m not easily shocked and I have something of an iron constitution when it comes to the horrific and macabre, yet even I was perturbed at some of the stuff appearing in this show which was unbelievably transmitted on one of the normal, Standards & Practices plagued channels. Quite apart from the violence and gallons of claret splattering the screen I’m deeply impressed at how challenging the show is from a narrative perspective, it fundamentally rejects industry tropes such as adhering to a plausible chronology or fixed delineations in time and space, not to mention fucking with the audiences heads just as central antagonist Dr. Lecter screws with protagonist Will Graham’s mind, with numerous fake-outs, hallucinations and an overall permeable sense of what is real, perceived and imagined. The first three or so episodes of this season felt like Last Year In Marienbad crossed with some Frankenstein’s monster of Suspiria, Don’t Look Now and Henry: Portrait of A Serial Killer, with very little fidelity to what is solid and substantial and what are the feverish  products of the participants dreams and nightmares. In fact every character in the show is a deeply fucked up, psychologically savaged bastard of one sort or another, apart from the cattle whom are led through a procession of sacrificial slaughters, and the only humour is of the gallows sort uttered during some frequent nausea inducing autopsies – clearly, these are members of the Menagerie tribe;

Aesthetically it is stunning, from the lush, velvet laced cinematography and elitist trappings of the salivating sartorial styles, the aromatic set fixtures and fittings, not to mention of course the mouth-watering Michelin murdered five star menus, with a darkly comic sense of humour that would make Jack The Ripper giggle like a tickled toddler. The show has attracted established directors like John Dahl, Vincenzo Natali, James Foley, Guillermo Navarro (who’s probably best known as del Toro’s cinematographer), Tim River’s Edge Hunter and even an episode from Neil Marshall, but Fuller maintains a coherent stylistic infrastructure and is clearly the main creative force, and some of you may be interested to hear that he is moving onto to a lavishly mounted adaption of Neil Gaiman’s American Gods as his next project. The performances across the board are uniformly exquisite but I must single out two individuals for particular attention, firstly Gillian Anderson as the wraithlike Bedeilla whose presence in the show slowly evolves to become more troubling and macabre, and of course Mads Mikkelsen as the fiendishly fastidious Dr. Lecter. It can’t be easy stepping into such iconic Testoni brand brouges but right or wrong Hopkin’s pantomime turn made Lecter an icon in the screen panoply of villains, although of course snooty purists such as I prefer Cox’s take on the grotesque gourmand. In his own alternative way Mikkelson totally nails Hannibal as a sauve force of destructive nature, an apex predator of the most lethal sort who barely seems to operate on the same aesthetic, ideological or psychological, universe as us other mere, delicious mortals.

The main point is just how ravenously fresh the show has been in treading very familiar ground, in fact it’s a fun thought exercise to compare this translation of the Thomas Harris nebula to the lofty peaks of Manhunter, as Richard Armitage acquaints himself admirably as an equally threatening and obsessive figurine as Tom Noonan did in the original, in the form of Francis Dolarhyde AKA the Tooth Fairy AKA The Red Dragon, William Blake’s most brutal and bloody fan. The show won’t be for everyone as some have railed against its utterly absurd plot conventions, (the grisly logistics of a corpse totem pole anyone?) and there is something in that criticism that some of the turns and developments butcher plausibility at the altar of some delirious delicatessen. That’s the wrong approach to take however, the show doesn’t even remotely want to operate in the same universe as a real FBI or chain of cause and effect shows such as True Detective or The Wire, as Hannibal clearly has an avowed appetite for operatic grandeur and expressionistic antics, delicately sautéed through the sort of experimentation and utter disregard for mainstream audience palettes that has been rewarded with terrible ratings hence its final demise. But what a glorious three seasons of terrestrial TV which you didn’t think they could make anymore, with Season 2 episode ‘Mizumono’ already enshrined as one of the most jaw-dropping ‘you-have-to-be-fucking-kidding-how on-earth-did-they-get-away-with-that?’ hours of TV entertainment ever filmed, and when the show runner cites Lynch and Kubrick, Cronenberg and Argento as his primary inspirations (and he managed to coax Siouxise Sioux out of retirement to score the final scene) must I really twist the knife more?;


Catherine Coulson RIP (1943 – 2015)

Oh no, now this won’t do, this won’t do at all. Catherine Coulson wasn’t just the highly regarded Log Lady of Twin Peaks fame, she was an instrumental member of Lynch’s retinue throughout his career, charting back to his early short The Amputee and a crucial production assistant on Eraserhead. She was always in good spirits about her miniscule claim to fame in such a cult TV show, and I think she will be a douglas fir sized absentee in 2017’s return to that small, sleepy Washington town. Heck, she was even married to Henry for a few years, which in it’s own way must have been quite a trip. Rest in peace, and may your sprit fly swift to the White Lodge enigmatic Log Lady;


The Knick (2015) TV Series

A quick detour into TV courtesy of Mr. Soderbergh, I’m only three episodes into his Cinemax sponsored series The Knick and I think we’ve diagnosed the best series of the year. Set in a turn of the 20th century New York hospital the period design is incredible, with a fantastic coterie of characters with some very promising futures.

I also love the Clint Mansell score which in its seething electronica contortions should be incongruous with the period detail, but it works perfectly, in a very odd way. Soderbergh (who directs every episode of the ten episode run) also manages an absolute miracle, dissecting a charismatic performance from Clive Owen, who so often is something of a vacuum on screen – he plays a brilliant, visionary surgeon, who just happens to be a severe heroin addict. Be prepared through as it horribly gruesome, it doesn’t skimp on the horror of the period when it comes to medicine, racial and social conditions, and thankfully the second series has already been commissioned. Can’t wait to burn through the rest of the season…..


Vinyl (2016) Trailer

A quick detour into the marshes of TV as a respite from the Herzog Hagiography – more on him coming soon – but Marty’s new series looks pretty darn exciting. I’m not sure if he’s just Exec Producing or directing the pilot as he did to get Boardwalk Empire rolling, but in any case this has a great cast and looks quite…….energetic;

Heh, a quick tour and it looks like he has directed the pilot, good news. I wonder if this might supersede that Sinatra biopic he’s been attached to for years? I’m not a particularly big fan of ole blue eyes but what with the links to the mob and his position in post war American culture that could have been terrific….


Werner Herzog Season: Herzog’s HBO

herz I love to share. As previously mentioned I’ve recently started this mammoth Herzog career retrospective / ideological primer on how one should live their life, and I’m kind of kicking myself for not immediately aligning my screening of the BFI programme with a simultaneous digestion of the book – roughly speaking it also moves chronologically through the great man’s career. It is, in a word, magnificent, a hilariously amusing patchwork of career anecdotes, observations on the art and industry of film, the pursuit of an indestructible  code to structure ones behaviour, all of which is punctuated with his philosophical musings on our pathetic species and our fruitless scrabble for meaning and purpose in the vast and infinite universe. Specifically I just felt I had to share with you Werner’s view on TV which had me crying with laughter on the train this morning;

herz3‘One of the great achievements of communal life is our ability to create narratives, something we have been doing since Neanderthal times. We should cherish this flame we have inside all of us and get on our knees and thank the creator for having endowed us with the gift of storytelling, something caveman huddled around campfires understood and appreciated. Instead, today, Television with its incessant commercials, our consumer culture has destroyed any semblance of dignity we might have once had. We are fragmenting and fracturing stories for the sake of business. We grow up enveloped by fifteen second storytelling and are conditioned by filmmaking at breakneck pace. Decades from now, our great-great grandchildren will look back in amazement at how we could have allowed a precious achievement of human culture like storytelling to be so disrespected, infected, then shredded by advertising. It will be the same amazement we see today, when we look at our ancestors, for whom slavery, the burning of witches, capital punishment and the inquisition were everyday acceptable events. We will be blamed for not throwing hand grenades into Television stations and laying waste to their institutionalised cowardice, for not taking up arms and occupying such debased places which venerate that single, pernicious god; the Einschaltquote, the ratings. It has always been their golden calf. It has nothing to do with me or my films.

To be fair he is prone to intentional hyperbole and he does go on to say this, but he still, y’know, has a point; ‘I sound so negative about this, but fortunately there is another side to it. Television specialises in those early morning satellite experiences, like the Ali / Foreman fight of the moon landing. I was so excited I nearly had a heart attack over those. Over the last decade standards have risen when it comes storytelling on Television. It is wonderful to see audiences immersing themselves in such intelligent narratives that play out over a period of years. Many of these series are expertly written, acted and directed, with a great sense of pace and long-running timing.’ I wonder if he prefers Breaking Bad or Sex & The City?

I could construct a whole side-blog of Herzogisms, in fact I wonder if anyone else has, there must be a faux-twitter account, right? Finally, before we move on with the season with the difficult to decipher Woyzeck this made me chortle ‘It is frustrating that astronauts never take advantage of the photographic possibilities available to them. On one of the Apollo missions they left a camera on the moon, slowly panning from left to right, then right to left for days. I yearned to grab the damn thing. There are so many possibilities up there for fresh images, and I always thought it would be better to send up a poet rather than an astronaut…..’


Let’s Tango….

Blah blah |Greek financial holocaust blah blah new Firefly is possibly back blah blah behind the scenes Star Wars footage. All of this pales in comparison to the real coup of the week, Ash is back baby;

Not all the jokes landed for me but it really doesn’t matter, this looks like gore drenched fun and defiantly in spirit with the best of the franchise. I can’t say I ever thought we’d see him back with Raimi and it looks like they’ve pulled it off – the Mint is a happy bunny…..


The White Lodge Speaks…..

What was that about not posting TV material? Well, after a rather hectic weekend I haven’t found the effort or inclination to finish my John Wick review, so instead let me join my voice to the chorus – c’mon Showtime, give Lynch what he wants, for everyone’s benefit;

Just to be a disgusting, facile male Madchen and Sherilyn are still looking cherry pie eh? Here’s some ephemera from the extra material of the FWWM Blu-Ray disk, sweet and unsettling dreams to all;


True Detective Season 2 Teaser

I don’t normally resort to TV postings but hey this has movie stars in it, so it counts – OK?


Penny Dreadful Season 2 (2015) Trailer

It’s rare for me to delve into the complex world of TV here at the Menagerie, but I will make exceptions for genuine hair-raising fare. In that light, here is the trailer for Penny Dreadful, probably my favorite TV series after True Detective of the last 18 months – this looks great;

Speaking of horror here is a legendary pairing which we never thought would come together – but talk about vomit-inducing results. Not rich enough already eh you greedy fucks? I am also contractually obliged like any film blogger to link to the days big trailer release, I’m drawing the embargo curtain over the inevitable trailers 3 and 4, and is it me or is the image quality of this footage strangely degraded?


It Is Happening Again…..

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw as Heather would say, yes I saw the rumors and the enigmatic tweets from Frost and Lynch over the weekend, yes it did play on my mind that something genuine might be afoot, but apparently after twenty five years – and never let us remember we have been instructed – it appears that we’re finally popping out for coffee again. This will take some time to percolate as quite frankly not every revisit / reboot / remake / over the history of communication entertainment has always been great, but the news that Lynch is directing all of the episodes and Frost is writing them, well, since Dave scuppered hope of any new film on the remote horizon a few months ago we can take this as some sort of consolation prize. Here, as I’m sure you are all fascinated to see is a deleted peek from the Fire Walk With Me Blu-Ray;

I wonder if they were waiting to see how much of a cultural and financial splash the Blu-Ray set made before making the final plunge? I dunno, I’m sure it will be fun but ever since the original mystery was solved the show went south almost immediately (as Lynch walked away to make Wild At Heart) but if they can come up with some new way to get us into the Lodge and find out ‘Where’s Anne?’……..oh, and apologies for the obvious post title which everyone else will use but hey, my mind is spinning…..


54 degrees on a slightly overcast day…..

Just a quick post – As we finally launch into the Blu of the activities of that sleepy yet sulphurous small town I have to say that the box set is a thing of particular ergonomic beauty, I’m wistfully reminded of seeing the opening of this legendary series in it’s European cut version;

I’m massaging a few other series – murdering Season 3 of the The Walking Dead, impeaching season 2 of House Of Cards (didn’t see that early collusion, huh?) but can I restrain myself from accelerating through to the extra 90 minutes of Lynchian backstory, despite some fantastic behind the scenes recollections on when and how that material was shot from the original culprits?  Who can say?

Heh. Anyway, our great chronicler of genre material Kim Newman has delivered a full article treatise of the enhanced and extended material which I have studiously ignored in this months S&S, a skim read assures us that the particulates of the mystery continues. I will be back once that extra FWWM material has been consumed, until then this walk down memory lane reminds me of that crucial era, a more innocent time which may thrum with more innocent chords;


Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) Trailer

It’s been a long time coming this, it wrapped shooting in 2012 and still isn’t due out until next summer. Thankfully what sounds like a chaotic shoot has resulted in something which looks pretty mental;

In other news yes, True Detective is outstanding, and Cohle may be my new hero. I actually had to conduct a round of applause at this which I knew was coming, absolutely sublime, tense storytelling;

True Detective S1 E4 Final Shot from Vincent Laforet on Vimeo.


Mid-Summer Menagerie Madness….

fwwrSometimes it’s nice to feel wanted, isn’t it? Having your current client frantically fighting to retain your services beyond July after you drop the bombshell that a South London authority have made me an offer I can’t refuse? That’s the enviable position I found myself in this month, I would quite happily remain at Bucks given that I’ve finally got the programme I was hired to establish built and secured a handsome £44 million from Whitehall to take the various projects forward, but the prospect of a twelve month contract with a reduced commute equals a period of relative financial security which has stolen my affections – plus some consultancy firms I’ve been commissioning for various work packages are also sniffing at my doorstep with the possibility of branching out internationally. It’s shame as I have enjoyed my time in Aylesbury with a solid crew and learnt a great deal, given that no-one else in the country has defrayed such funding and designed programmes through the LEP’s following  the Coalitions white paper this has been quite a notch on the CV, and I was looking forward to meeting the Head of Pinewood studios who sits on the local LEP board. All this I’m sure is absolutely fascinating for you general reader but fret note there is a method to my madness, as naturally I’ve celebrated my new found popularity by spunking a severe amount of money on the audio-visual entertainment level, so let’s take a look at what the menagerie will be indulging in over the coming weeks and months;

I’ve seen this before and enjoyed it thoroughly, I’ve been tempted to go back and econnaissance the LZ as I recently read the book adaption which I picked up cheap at a local charity shop – something light for my long, now previously defunct commute.

I was a big fan of the first season given Spacey’s slithering performance and the Machiavellian intricacies of Washington politics, I hear that the second series is a re-election of similarly vaunted quality.

I’ve been oscillating with when I’d finally take down True Detective which I’m fairly sure I’ll love – a dark Southern Gothic crime odyssey being hailed as the best eight-hour noir movie of the last ten years? – although I’ve been a little hesitant and waited for the £35 quid price to drop. Still, life’s too short so fuck it, plus I’m tired of avoiding spoilers for months now so I’m willing to punt out the cash for ‘the best TV series since The Wire‘. Well, we shall see, I think I’ll marathon the lot in a single, gorge bloated sitting…..

Whilst I’ve seen and loved The Walking Dead my viewing of the decomposing dread has been patchy, I missed episodes here and there when it aired on UK terrestrial TV, and with the fourth season imminent I thought a revisit may be in order – £30 for the first three seasons is another pretty good bargain in my book. Of the dead. I do expect to be requiring psychiatric help by the end after 35 hours of apocalyptic depression, or just a few months of staring of into the distance whilst quietly weeping may be in order…

We’ve been here before, and I doubt I’ll power through all the episodes for another few years yet (I mounted a re-watch a few years ago) but Fire Walk With Me in HD and the numerous extras are enough justification to drop £50 on this little box that’s wrapped in plastic, those 90 minutes of scenes could even be charitably construed as a new Lynch movie.

Cinema fanatics wept with the joy with the news of this, no less than eighteen of Herzog’s movies upgraded to HD for the first time, all collected with the requisite extras and documentaries by the exalted BFI. There’s a few early oddities in the list which I haven’t seen yet, but more importantly it will prompt me to go back through the great man’s catalogue and partially make amends for my poor attendance at the BFI season last year.

Oh, and yeah, I’ve invested in a PS4 to watch all this on – look, I was going to upgrade the Blu-Ray player and then I thought to myself hang-on….this also looks fucking epic so why the hell not? How else am I going to entertain myself until the LFF in October? I’m not kidding, but some of the effects and animation in those next generation games had my jaw on the floor in amazement – we’ve come a long way huh……


Twin Peaks – The Entire Mystery Announcement

If you thought Godzilla was the biggest thing to arrive this weekend then think again, as this news of the long awaited transfer of Twin Peaks to Blu-Ray and a stunning collection of extras has Lynch fans going all Log-Lady. I’ve got the 2007 Gold Box which has every episode and a few extras, but the promise of the inclusion of Fire Walk With Me (perhaps Lynch’s most underrated film) and a Black Lodge of extras from the film including at least 90 minutes of sacred unseen material  – well it’s enough to make a grown man cry. Here’s a reminder of what we’ve got to look forward to;

Delving further we are promised ‘an epilogue providing a fascinating glimpse beyond the cliff-hanger finale of the TV series.’ and Between Two Worlds, in which “Lynch himself interviews the Palmer family (Leland, Sarah and daughter Laura) about their current existence in this life and the next’ – damn fine coffee!!

Very, VERY excited about this, looks like it’s only available on pre-order for US region players, I was looking to celebrate my new assignment with a equipment upgrade so I guess going all-region Blu-Ray player shopping is in order.  In lieu of any new film announcements any Lynch is welcome round these parts, and just some cursory revision has led me to find this which is just fantastically cut together – don’t go having any nightmares about Bob now y’hear?;

35 Years of David Lynch (Film Tribute) from Michael Warren on Vimeo.


Arrested Development Season 4 Trailer

Well, this has snuck up on me. If I had to choose the best ten TV series of the new millennium, as well as the obvious candidates like The Shield, Mad Men and The Wire I’d also nominate two comedy series, namely The Thick Of It although that might only fully connect with we UK government spads and Arrested Development which remarkably returns for a long lobbied fourth season via Netflix;

I remember starting to watch this on BBC2 late on Sunday nights and it took me a couple of goes to absorb the rhythm of the show, but once it had percolated it became an instant classic. It’s always a big risk that when you bring these series back you risk tarnishing the memory of the originals if you ain’t up to par, judging by that trailer we should be in for more hilarious antics of the Bluth clan. The running gags are absolutely unbeatable;

Gob is probalby my favourite character – can’t wait for more ‘illusions’. I guess I could query this whole emerging trend of Netflix acting as distributors of nerw material as with the successful House Of Cards, challenging the broadcast networks and studios hegemony over the means of consuming the product, I reckon in five years the old notion of a TV broadcast schedule will be well and truly dead….