Bronson

“My name is Charlie Bronson,” Tom Hardy declares to camera, and so begins an exploration of Britain’s most famous criminal, and, perhaps fittingly, the fact that for most of Bronson’s infamous career, he was not known by that Hollywood moniker lifted from the Death Wish muscle-man, instead going by his birth name of Michael Peterson.

Naming is central to Bronson, as the audience is faced by a man so close to inscrutable mania any simple handles are essential for us to understand what we are dealing with. On the one hand, we see Bronson as the performer, delivering monologues and brief performance pieces to an audience that is largely mute and unreadable. He proclaims to have a set of rules which he always abides, sometimes even unwittingly, as the final scene in the asylum reveals. On the other, Bronson as inmate presents us with brooding frustration and an ever-ready tongue, willing to declare “You fucking cunt” at the first sign of a prison warden.

Peterson’s story is terrifying in its simplicity: a decent enough upbringing, but a penchant for violence, for spectacle, had the young husband sentenced to 7 years in prison. He had, at the time of filming, served 34 years in various penitentiaries, 30 of them in solitary confinement. But the film does not ask why explicitly, and merely tries to delve into the man’s mind and present the facts, as far as we can gather them, from Bronson’s perspective instead. That is what elevates the piece from being just another biopic, or indeed a celebration of violence; we are incarcerated with Charlie Bronson as he rails against everything he cannot comprehend. We are there for the ride.

The film is far from perfect: there are a couple of gaping plot holes (particularly with Alison, the girl Bronson falls for in his 69 day spell on the outside, who simply fades out of the narrative as she pursues engagement with an even-more-unseen Brian) but these can be forgiven by the format: the film purports to be based on a true story, and life is so often stranger than fiction. And the central question of the piece: how much we can in fact understand Charlie Bronson, is left answered, in its own way, by how strange a creature he becomes. His early hulking silences, taken to be scheming, by the close seem much more significant: the blanks of a mind so completely turned upon itself and other humans as to be entirely inaccessible. Tom Hardy’s performance is startling and visceral; it’s hard to look away from him as he transforms from man to something else entirely. That alone leaves the film with a recommendation; but there’s something in the construction, in the pathos evoked and the quasi-stylised violence, again and again, underpinning Bronson’s strange moral code, that elevates Bronson from violent thriller to something much more. Chilling. 

~~~

2008

Tom Hardy

dir. Nicolas Winding Refn

The Shop Around the Corner

You've Got Mail's most direct, telling influencer, this charming 1940s rom-com tells the story of Matuschek's shop in Budapest, in which two employees unwittingly fall in love. 

It remains entirely satisfying to discover that the humour and intrinsic playfulness of The Shop Around the Corner has not dated one bit, even if simultaneously the performances and setting clearly evoke another, distant time and style of acting. Stationary angles and set-piece scenes characterise this wonderful film, but it's really sold on the central protagonists' believable, enjoyable portrayals of Alfred Kralik (Stewart at his drawling best) and Klara Novak (Sullivan, all bite and bright eyes).  Kralik is lead salesman in Matuschek's, butting heads in a well-judged father-son conflict with his bumbling boss (Morgan). Meanwhile, Klara arrives on the scene and bullies her way into a position. Kralik and Klara do not see eye-to-eye. More than that, they intensely dislike each other.

Of course, it emerges fairly swiftly that their respective pen-pals, of whom they both speak so highly, are in fact each other. There commences a delicious discrepancy of understanding as Kralik first faces his true feelings for Klara, and then begins to machinate to ensure that when he reveals his true identity, she won't turn him down. It's well paced, engaging and all a bit soppy in the nicest possible way. Laughs come regularly, while the other characters in Matuschek's provide perfect foils for Stewart and Sullivan to spring from. William Tracy as Pepi Katona is particularly enjoyable to watch.

I'm not saying anything new; but they got romantic comedy down to a fine art, and this is a beautiful example of it. Tight writing, excellent execution, and heart-warming and Christmassy to boot.  

~~~

1940

Margaret Sullivan, James Stewart, Frank Morgan, William Tracy

dir. Ernst Lubitsch

Boy

Boy tells the story of the eponymous 11 year old New Zealander and his younger brother, Rocky. Effectively ophaned by their criminal father, Alamein, and the death of their mother, they live with cousins and their grandmother in extreme poverty. But the return of their dad forces them to reconsider their position, both in regard to each other, and how they have built up legends surrounding their absent father.

It's a fairly standard story of family values and growing up, but packaged so beautifully and thoughtfully (even the website is a dream) and given director Taika Waititi's particular stamp. If you're not sure quite what that is, consider Eagle vs Shark (trailer here) or Taika's episode for the hit HBO series, Flight of the Conchords (little clip from his episode here). It's a certain quirkiness, but more than that, a reconsideration of some of the obvious themes (love for EvS, family for Boy) from a detailed, unexpected perspective. The trailer really doesn't do justice to the range of emotions this film stirs. Boy (Rolleston) and Rocky (Eketone-Whitu) have brilliant fraternal chemistry, while Waititi as Alamein is a delight, pure and simple. But to rave about them is, unfortunately, selling short a sensitive, multi-layered film that uses humour not just to entertain but also to elucidate and quietly poke fun at its protagonists. 

Boy lives in his own dream world; but why shouldn't he, if it gets him through the harsh times of caring for his siblings and struggling without guidance? He's a strange one but takes himself entirely seriously, yet not for moment did I feel as though I was mocking him with my laughter, especially after the arrival of his father and the realisation that Alamein has had far more influence on his sons that he ever wanted.

Beautifully shot, carefully put together and interwoven with moments of heartbreak and magic, Boy is an underrated joy definitely worth your time.

~~~
2010
James Rolleston, Te Aho Aho Eketone-Whitu, Taika Waititi
written and dir. Taika Waititi

Update

I've been a little off the boil with reviewing. I am not going to sit with a huge backlog and fret about it. My resolutions for the blog are a) to promote a bit more regularly and b) to write more selectively and critically. I think that seems fair.


So, onwards, back into the swing of things we go.

The Best of McSweeney's - Volume 1

What do eighteen short stories from eighteen different American writers of all sorts have in common? Nothing, it would seem, apart from being published by Dave Eggers' McSweeney's and making it into the first best-of collection. And that's a very good thing.

This collection certainly pays homage what might be considered more conventional short story telling, such as Paul Lafarge's The Observers, in which the story of making an observatory becomes emblemmatic for the more traumatic changes a man might go through, or Rick Moody's The Double Zero, the story of a family failing in the Mid-West. But McSweeney's also ranges into less traditional territory. Gary Greenberg's In the Kingdom of the Unabomber is a non-fiction account of Greenberg's communications with Ted Kaczynski; Zev Borow's Haole Go Home!: Small Gestures from the Hawaiian Secessionist Movement documents some of the different factions and actionists at work in Hawaii in, as the title suggests, the Secession movement there; perhaps the most haunting work in the collection is another non-fiction piece, Sean Wilsey's The Republic of Marfa, recording the weird and wonderful in Far West Texas' outland of Marfa, cattle-rustlers and artists alike. 

Egger's own contribution, Up the Mountain Coming Down Slowly, certainly deserves its place there. He tells the story of one Rita, who has decided to climb Kilimanjaro, perhaps to forget some of the pressures her life back in the United States has put upon her. It's an excellent study in letting small details speak for themselves, and as it traces Rita's physical journey, we see the gentle unravelling of her mental processes as the freedom and difficulty of her trek work upon her. 

Another story of travel, of a slightly more malevolent bent, is Ted and the Megalodon, by Jim Shepard. Even now, the final scene of that adventure lingers hauntingly with me. It's an excellent piece of suspense writing and well-worth a look. But that's just the point: this collection deserves its best-of title. These stories are weighty in their own right. Even a cursory look at the contents page makes me wonder if I shouldn't mention George Saunders' Four Institutional Monologues, wry, excellent faux-businessman pieces that are terrifying in the very fact they are so square, or William T. Vollman's Three Meditations on Death. But then I'd be missing Zadie Smith's The Girl with Bangs, again, a more conventional story, or John Hodgman's Fire: The Next Sharp Stick?, which is marvellously entertaining, as cavemen start to talk about fire as though it is a business opportunity, and they corporations. Perhaps that's my favourite story. But I just can't tell. 

Definitely worth dipping into; a must for any short-story enthusiast.

~~~
2005
Penguin Books
edited by Dave Eggers

Daybreakers

Daybreakers takes the premise that after the emergence of the vampire strain, all was conquered swiftly in its path. Humans now exist in the minority, hunted for their tasty blood and shying away from cities which now have underground tunnel networks to allow vampires to get around even by day. 

Ten years on, by a rather crafty series of news bulletins, mini-scenes and overheard snatches of conversation, we discover human blood may be drying up. Humans may in fact be going extinct. Blood deprived vamps, the poorest of the poor, are mutating into monsters, while blood investors start withdrawing their human capital to save the blood for themselves. And in the centre of the mess stands chief haematologist Edward Dalton (Ethan Hawke), an unwilling vampire at best, and  certainly a humanity sympathiser (even if he's embraced the vampire look pretty slickly). 

Hawke's performance is perfectly fine. He scowls a lot and looks pasty. He's entirely outdone by the delicious Audrey (Claudia Karvan, who must have been sexed up so that the audience might feel a fraction of Dalton's own longing for her blood) and even more so by a star turn from Defoe, who plays the hicky-gung-ho Lionel 'Elvis' Cormac, leader of the human resistance. (Why wouldn't I use that image again? Look at Defoe's expression!) It's an entertaining, absurd performance and Defoe shines, southern drawl and all. He's a consummate performer who demands attention throughout, and his intensity and slightly crazed leer match his character's perfectly. 

Meanwhile, plot and design complement each other comfortably. Despite a lamentably obvious human-capture setpiece, the supporting characters are used to full effect and the story trots along merrily and enjoyably. There are a couple of needlessly gory deaths; but there is also enough blood and madness around for it almost to make sense, especially given the well-told background of riots and vamps losing their nerve. After all, in a world that's running short on blood, any time there is bloodletting, there's that tinge of useless waste underlying my usual gut reaction of 'oh needless gore'. It's a subtle detail, but it pleased me some. 

I had expected something along the lines of Blade 3 - action, laser bows, idiocy. Instead I got a rather terser, tighter piece, filled with energy and engaging detail. It wasn't the most sophisticated film ever, but I'd watch it again to catch all the details I missed, and first time through, it was a joy to watch.

~~~

2009

Ethan Hawke, Claudia Karvan, Willem Defoe, Sam Neill

dir. Michael Spierig, Peter Spierig

30 days of night

So continues a little bit of my vampire interest writing. I’ve done a couple of I Am Legend look-sees (here and here) along with more mainstream jabbering (here for example). 

30 Days of Night was hailed as one of the darkest, goriest vampire flicks ever. Updating the blockbuster hyperbolic action of the Blade trilogy, it would usher in a return to the vampire-as-true-horror genre, rather than namby-pamby 'sexy' vampires with diamond skin and such. In the small town of Barrow, northernmost of American outposts in Alaska, a thirty-day night is just beginning, a period of darkness marked by the departure of nearly half the 1,500 inhabitants who flee to warmer, brighter climes. And into this one long night arrives a stranger (Ben Foster), and, of course, a whole bunch of very thirsty vampires.

The strained relationship between town sheriff Eben Oleson (Josh Hartnett) and his estranged wife Stella (Melissa George), who happens to find herself in Barrow just in time to miss the last flight clear, is established nicely enough. Early attempts at meaningful, emotive dialogue are pulled off just about. Night begins to fall. The first killings occur, and a sense of mystery infuses the air.

Unfortunately, that sense of mystery is not particularly engaging. The cinematic beauty of watching the sun set for the last time for an entire month, coupled with some rather nifty opening credits, is not enough to cancel out the fact that the opening drags, and ‘Day 1’ lasts almost half of the film. Once the survivors of the initial onslaught are boarded up in an attic hideout, it already seems inevitable that they will all die. The desperation, the hope and the excitement that might have been worked into fighting off a vampire siege is wholly removed. ‘Day 8’ adds little to the thrill, the next milestone we are given. Where did days 2 - 7  go? An old man, trying to break out, is carried off. Somehow the vampires, who have engineered this conquest, fail to understand that there might be other people hiding in the building. These master monsters, who've been clever enough to think of hitting up an entire town that's dark for a whole month fail really to follow through with their design.

How should one redeem such a piece? Can adding conversations between vampires, a line about how they had tired of hiding in the shadows, enhance the threat they pose? Not really. Instead, it makes the conquest of Barrow, tiny and insignificant as it portrayed to be, into some kind of battleground to protect all of America, and it doesn’t work. Heroism can be found anywhere. Why not make Eben the hero of Barrow, not of America, the world, as a whole? Why try to make this about the entire human race when the audience might want in fact to care about the people of Barrow instead. 

Rapidly descending into trite melodrama. Not dark enough to remain true vampire horror, or swiftly paced enough to add proper tension or expectation in the audience. Adding gore to a weakly carried out film doesn't rocket up into must-see lists, I'm afraid.

~~~

2007

Josh Hartnett, Melissa George

dir. David Slade