Oldboy

Perhaps the most widely known of Chan-wook Park's Vengeance trilogy, Oldboy tells the story of the imprisonment and subsequent vengeance-quest of Dae-su Oh (Min-sik Choi). Dae-su is something of a middle-class nobody until he awakens one day to find himself trapped in a single room; little does he know he'll be held there for fifteen years. We watch as he first experiences fear and desperation until finally he resolves to train himself and escape, turning almost full circle within the confines of his cell.

On regaining his freedom he embarks upon an investigation for the truth...or is it for revenge? Indeed, that question is kept at the forefront of the viewer's mind as with every step Dae-su draws closer, he must reconcile his own unquenchable lust for violence with his need for answers. Even the relationship he strikes up with Mido (Hye-jeong Kang) serves only to temper briefly his single-minded passion for the truth. As he draws closer to facing his punisher, the sartorially slick Woo-jin Lee (Ji-tae Yu), the blood begins to flow more freely, and with it, our own concerns that Dae-su Oh might not want the truth once he gets it.

The overtones of classical Greek tragedy are unmistakeable. Oldboy comfortably sits in a great tradition of drama in which a desire for vengeance might drive the protagonist out of his mind; so too, the final punishment that Dae-su Oh must inflict upon himself seems on first viewing disapproportionately harsh for the crime for which he discovers he earned imprisonment. Yet, a more considered viewing suggests that there are no winners or losers in Oldboy, as each and every character suffers in one way or another. Dae-su Oh is the perfect tragic hero, both for his hubris and for the sympathetic humanity he still evidences throughout the film; but the sufferings of Mido and Lee are no less compelling, even if the latter comes off as a poor shadow of a foil to Dae-su.
Cinematically the film is engrossing, too. Chan-wook Park's ability to weave innovative camera angles and techniques with a thrilling and moving score and characters that are eye-catchingly watchable is a heady mix. There's an all-encompassing colour wash and style to the film that drew me in from the start and left me fixated. Indeed, it's essential that the viewer is made to watch, and forced to behave as Dae-su Oh once did in watching things he shouldn't, so that we are witness to various crimes and misbehaviours throughout the course of the film. The infamous live octopus scene, for one, demands that we keep our eyes open, even though it's thoroughly repellent; when Lee offers his final coup de grace when facing down Dae-su, we have been a party to Dae-su Oh's crimes. It's that forced involvement, brought about by so subtle yet complete an immersion in the action, that's utterly chilling.
A masterpiece of involvement and questioning; I was left shocked, distressed and stunned by an apparent 'fairness' in the final tip of the scales, even though I did not want to feel that way. Fantastic.

~~~
2003

Min-sik Choi, Ji-tae Yu, Hye-jeong Kang

dir. Chan-wook Park

Noble Beast - Andrew Bird

There's something mesmeric about Andrew Bird's 2009 offering, Noble Beast. Trained as a classical violinist, and self-confessed pro-whistler, Bird began to record more popular and mainstream records as a means to capture the diverse sounds he was capable of producing.

Noble Beast offers a subtle combination of folk, indie and easy-listening. But subtle needs to be, if anything, overstated here. There's a gentleness behind Bird's skilled guitar- and violin-playing that draws in the listener and conjures up visions of plains and woods, of nature and science. Over the top rests his silky soft vocals. The comparison with Sufjan Stevens is apt. They even look similar (Stevens vs Bird... ish), but it's the careful layering of their music that really provoked the similarity.

There's also a diverse range of subject material in Bird's lyrics. There's a poeticism behind 'Tenuousness' and 'Anonanimal', coupled with verbal play; the symmetry behind album opener 'Oh No' and closer 'On Ho' requires more study, but there's a careful planning behind his work that deserves attention. My favourites perhaps remain 'Souverian' and 'The Privateers', the latter for its accessibility, urgency and sparkling chorus, the former for its dreaminess. But the stand-out lyric is almost certainly:

Fake conversations on a non-existent telephone

Like the words of a man who's spent too much

Time alone

There is, certainly, my own penchant for an exploration of loneliness at play here. But that observation of the inability of one alone to articulate effectively is brought about in such a fluid and melodious way in 'Effigy' that the contrast couldn't be starker. Beautiful and thrilling to the ear.

~~~

2009

The Death of Achilles (Fandorin 4)

Erast Petrovich Fandorin returns, after six years in Japan at the Russian Embassy there, to Moscow, to his duties with the Third Section. But on the morning of his arrival he's met by a shock; his old acquaintance, General Mikhail Sobolev, is staying in the same hotel as Fandorin. What's more, Sobolev is found dead that very morning. Fandorin, of course, takes on the case immediately, out of duty and a sense of loyalty to his old friend.

What's changed then, to stop this being just same-old same-old? Well, for a start, Fandorin hasn't wasted his time while in Japan. In fact, he's immersed himself as much as he can in Japanese culture, particularly in focusing his mind and body to perfection as a detective and man of action. Furthermore, he now has in tow the lovable rogue of a retainer, Masa, who's bloodthirsty and lustful nature lead to all kinds of difficulties, not least because Masa doesn't speak a word of Russian.

Structurally Boris Akunin has also, once more, tried something a little different. He's returned to describing his hero from the third person, as in Azazel, rather than through the impressions or reports of other characters. But instead of a linear narrative, the tale is divided firmly into two; firstly Fandorin travels about town following up leads and tracking down the culprit behind what clearly could not have been a natural death; then we are transported to the Caucasus and the childhood and early life of a boy with strange pale eyes. This boy later becomes an assassin, and from there establishes a reputation as not only a killer-for-hire, but a man who never misses his mark. He is given the name Achimas, and leads a life of crime under barely any suspicion at all, so consummate are his abilities. It is only as the narration of his life story catches up to his most recent task that it becomes clear that Fandorin may have met his match in Sobolev's killer.

Akunin remains a master at spinning out a story with poise and charm; there's plenty of wit in this narrative, especially in the exchanges between Fandorin and Masa, and there's a fair share of mystery and thrills to keep the reader engaged. There's also a sensitivity to Achimas here, a sensitivity elsewhere not seen in Akunin. Could this be a stepping stone towards a more ambivalent view of Fandorin's enemies? Perhaps not, but I look forward to seeing where the series gets to next.

~~~

2005

Boris Akunin, translated by Andrew Bromfield

Murder on the Leviathan (Fandorin 3)

As noted in my review of Turkish Gambit, I in fact read Murder on the Leviathan, or Leviathan as it is called in Russian, out of sequence. Fortunately, the events and setting of Leviathan are such that this did not mar my enjoyment of Turkish Gambit or The Death of Achilles.

At the close of Turkish Gambit, Erast Petrovich Fandorin, still recovering from the tragedy that befell him after his first major case (Azazel), takes a leave of absence once more, to travel to Japan and work in the embassy there. He seeks an escape from all that has happened, and only distance and time can heal the emotional wounds he has suffered. He books passage on the steamship Leviathan, on its maiden voyage from Southampton to Calcutta, but there is met by the strangest of circumstances.

Monsieur Gauche, police inspector of the Paris police, is on the trail of a ruthless murderer. He has narrowed down the suspects to nine travellers on the Leviathan, and by means of an arrangement with the ship's captain ensured that these passengers always have their meals with him in the Windsor dining room. So begins a criminal investigation, during which Gauche tries to ascertain the killer's identity from interviews with his fellow passengers. Fandorin, as Russian diplomat, falls under suspicion more due to Gauche's boredom with one of the other travellers, and he is moved into the Windsor suite. Of course he privately puts his not-inconsiderable talents to solving the mystery as well.

In yet another twist of narrative style, Akunin tells this story from various points of view. We have chapters given from different characters as they remark on their own take on events as they unfold aboard the Leviathan. There is the pregnant Madame Kleber, desperate for attention from all the men in the room, and spinster Clarissa Stamp, who takes quite a shine to the dashing Fandorin with his immaculate appearance and grey temples. Then in a brilliant piece of stylised publishing we are given access to excerpts from the diary of Gintaro Aono, Japanese samurai, on his way home. These are presented in such a way as to require the reader to tilt the book through ninety degrees as the type runs from bottom to top, rather than left to right. It's a simple trick but pleasurable none the less.

From these varying perspectives, we are left very much in the dark as to the culprit. Various narrators seem to have secrets they need to hide, but as the tension increases, so too does the confusion as Gauche chases down leads that end in nothing. Meanwhile, Fandorin sits ever so still, observing, considering and only getting involved when Gauche's suggestions may lead to wrongful accusation. It's an excellent touch, to see Fandorin played off against another detective and the comparison between the two only adds to gentle frisson of excitement underlying the whole book.

But the book is also very much a break for Erast Petrovich. The case is not his, nor is there any pressure on him to be more than a highly observant bystander. As such, the drama is somewhat diminished. It is, after all, a journey of escape for Fandorin, and Akunin succeeds in providing only mild danger throughout; this isn't a thriller in the same vein of the trials of Turkish Gambit or the hectic sprints around Moscow of The Death of Achilles. But it's a humorous, enjoyable portrait of the wonderful character of Fandorin.

~~~

1998/2004 - Russian / English editions

Boris Akunin, translated by Andrew Bromfield

Where The Wild Things Are

Spike Jonze's spirited screen interpretation of Maurice Sendak's childhood masterpiece Where The Wild Things Are pulls no punches in taking the essential message of the book and transferring that successfully to the silver screen.

The challenge with Sendak's story is that its short, only some twenty pages, and filled with imagination and adventure. The latter actually lends it to screen adaptation, where Jonze decided to flesh out the 'wild rumpus' between Max and the Wild Things with all sorts of sequences of frivolity and violence. In addition, the whole idea of all collapsing in a heap together to sleep is beautifully handled, as the Wild Things do just that.

But it's not all book-to-screen transposition in the film. Firstly, Jonze had to flesh out some of the characters. Max is obviously given a much deeper portrayal (wonderfully played by Max Records), with a rather touching back story of familial strife and loneliness, explaining his bad behaviour. Meanwhile, the Wild Things are given names and voiced by an impressively diverse cast (James Gandolfini, Paul Dano, Forest Whitaker, Catherine O'Hara, Lauren Ambrose, Chris Cooper and Michael Berry Jr.; Gandolfini is particularly impressive as the passionate Carol). I had never before wondered what the voices of the Wild Things would be like, but was completely taken in by this choice of Jonze's, making them seem ever so americana and ordinary, as figments of adults as Max might imagine them, completely down to mundane names and normal voices.

Secondly, the score and cinematography both deserve note; the film is so colourful and epic in scope, with rapidly changing scenery and music that both compliments and enhances the drama that it's easy to feel swept away into the thrill of the events and feel as though one is escaping into this other world imaginary realm. And like the book, there's never a moment where it's stated "and this was all a dream". Indeed, that's another of the film's strengths: it added and expanded on the story, while never needing to contradict or explain away other details. The child-voiced choir directed by Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs is a beautiful touch and does not challenge anything we already knew from the novel.

Finally, the expansion work Jonze has undertaken is shown in the themes of the story. We have a story about a boy fleeing to an imaginary world in which he can get away with anything and is ruler of the roost. In doing so, he begins to miss his family and appreciates the challenges of being a grown-up or the one in control. This is perfectly captured by the film, but also nuanced; there's a broken home that Max escapes, and the challenges of leading the Wild Things are far from straightforward, with a real threat of danger that comes across and adds a chill to much of the drama that occurs between the Wild Things and Max. He's an imperfect hero, and he begins to appreciate those imperfections as the story unfolds, to his benefit.

Utterly engaging and enjoyable.

~~~

2009

Max Record, Catherine Keener, James Gandolfini, Paul Dano, Lauren Ambrose, Catherine O'Hara, Forest Whitaker, Michael Berry Jr, Chris Cooper

dir. Spike Jonze

Phrazes for the Young - Julian Casablancas

A real grower this one; on a first listen, it sounds as though Casablancas has taken his favourite elements of The Strokes and poured them into his first solo offering. But it becomes clear that the influence offered by Bright Eye's Mike Mogis and Nate Walcott has drawn Casablancas in slightly new directions too.

Out of the Blue and Left and Right in the Dark catapult the listener into a world in which Casablancas both laments his own growing up and the changing times in which he lives in. But it's best expressed with this lyric:

All that I can do is sing a song of faded glory

And all you got to do is sit there, look great, and make 'em horny.

It's not so much a diatribe or eulogy to growing up as it is his own small observations of how things have moved on. And when he blasts into 11th Dimension and drops more encouragement for his audience as to stripping away attempts at being, for want of a better word, cool, one starts to perceive where the album title might have come from. A personal favourite exhortation is

And don't be shy, oh no, at least deliberately

'Cause no one really cares or wanders why anymore

Oh I've got music coming out of my hands and feet and kisses...

But there's plenty of good stuff in there.

The first really dip of the record, only eight tracks long as it is, is with the two more ballad-esque centrepiece tracks, 4 Chords of the Apocalypse and Ludlow St. Here it seems Julian was looking for something more lyrical, but the change of pace doesn't fit entirely satisfactorily with the rest of the album, and Ludlow St in particular sounds too croonery and doesn't show Julian at his best.

But then we launch into the final triad of the record, and what a triad indeed. Rivers of Brakelights is my personal favourite of the album, and the word play with the two repeated refrains is cerebrally enchanting:

Getting the hang of it, getting the hang of it

Timing is everything, timing is everything
Getting the hang of it, timing is everything
Getting the hang of it, timing is everything
Timing the hang of it, getting is everything
Getting the time of it, everything hangs on this

Hanging the getting of, timing the getting of.

(Not best shown there, but check out the track!) Meanwhile Glass and Tourist, perhaps the tracks with the biggest Bright Eyes influence, provide a fitting close to a rip-roaring album. One of the things that's most enjoyable about this album is that even with only eight songs, Casablancas has taken the time to flesh them out, and they do sound fully formed and fully imagined. That's why repeated listens pay dividends, as it takes some time to pick through some of the more layered work that's been laid down.

An excellent year closer and an uplifting, exhortatory effort from The Strokes' frontman.

~~~

released November 2009

The Turkish Gambit (Fandorin 2)

In Britain, The Turkish Gambit was published as Turkish Gambit, and appeared third in the Fandorin series issued by Weidenfeld & Nicolson and translated by Andrew Bromfield. It becomes apparent with reading that the action of The Turkish Gambit follows closely from the close of The Winter Queen (reviewed here); I'm even inclined to start using the Russian title for that novel, too, as it informs as to the major criminal organisation Fandorin finds himself pitted against once more: Azazel.

Azazel have been recruiting charismatic orphans and preening them for nefarious, high-flying positions. After the disastrous conclusion of Fandorin's first adventure, he seeks oblivion by leaving the Third Section (Russia's detective bureau) and journeying to join the Russian front where the troops are engaged in the Russo-Turkish war.

But Akunin is more wily than to describe this to us in such a straightforward manner. Instead, we meet Varvara Andreevna Suvorova, a self-proclaimed 'modern woman' who is travelling to find her betrothed, Pyotr, who is also fighting at the front. In being so bold, and undertaking such a journey, Varya is sure she will prove both her devotion to Petya and her status as a thoroughly in-control feminist. But disaster strikes and she is left stranded in a Muslim tavern that's allegiance to Russia, given its proximity to Turkey, is dubious. Enter a mysterious young man with a stammer, a brusque manner, and hair that is black apart from white temples: Fandorin. Varya is rescued by him, but immediately takes offence at his prickliness. There's a delicious discrepancy between our own knowledge of the terrible tragedy Fandorin has suffered and Varya's own frustration with this taciturn gentleman, enhanced, of course, by our own sympathy for the young man, so clearly marked by his past experiences.

If Varya is upset by Fandorin, she's quickly offered diversions: cavalry commander Mikhail Sobolev, along with a host of journalists, meet Fandorin and Varya on the road to the Russian camp in the nick of time, carrying out a daring rescue against a band of bashi-bazouks. From there, the plot speeds up significantly; it's clear there's some sort of mole in the Russian camp, and Fandorin is tasked with worming him out. Furthermore, a certain Anwar Effendi has surfaced in the Turkish forces, a man already identified as one of the key members of Azazel. Fandorin, while refusing to return to the Third Section proper, must struggle between outwitting his wily enemy while also finding the mole.

The real charm of the whole tale comes from Varya; most of the narrative is told from her perspective, and again there's delightful humour in how she curses herself for being so attracted to some of the gentleman in the camp, each of them dashing and brave. Her betrothed, Petya, proves himself to be an utter wimp, and one can't help but feel pleased that Varya has other options on her plate. But most pleasing of all is her gradual warming towards Fandorin, whom she discovers is not only younger than her, but has dealt with more than she could imagine. As she notes how she has realised, with horror, that she's been missing him, the sense of triumph for Fandorin is wonderful. He's not sought her affection one bit, nor is he interested, but he's also acted with constancy and bravery throughout, without ever attempting to emphasise it. The bittersweet finale of the book, where Fandorin may be about to solve the case but never get the girl, is a joy to read.

Akunin's done something remarkable; he's taken that excellent character first fleshed out in Azazel and forced him through a terrible mishap, adding yet another layer of depth and engagement to an already charming individual. Fandorin's impressive powers of deduction are now tempered by patience and silence, making him all the more resolute and inspiring. A brilliant read.

~~~

1998

Boris Akunin, translated by Andrew Bromfield