by hutchwp

Glastonbury Day One: Driving, Walking, Camping, Blade Runner

Well, I’ve made it through the first day of Glastonbury festival. Wednesday is always a day full of excitement – the long drive down from the East Midlands, the epic walk from the car park to the camp site (it only took 50 minutes this year!), putting up a tent that I haven’t looked at since the last festival I was at, finding my friends and heading out to explore. It feels like work but it’s worth it knowing a weekend of fun is just around the corner.

Something I always forget about when I come to Glastonbury is the sheer vastness of it all. I will always say “It’s way bigger than any other festival”, but it’s still pleasantly shocking when you actually get here. It dwarves every other festival I’ve ever been to, and I’ve been to a huge amount across Europe over the last 15 years. The Park area, for example, is about the same size as V Festival and is home to only the fourth biggest stage of the festival and a handful of other stages and tents.

There’s never a shortage of things to do or places to visit, even on what is essentially an arrival and aclimbatisation day. We spent some time in a small tent listening to a few bands, which was a nice start to the musical fun around the corner.

You can’t fear getting a good meal either – there are hundreds of stalls to try and they’re all reasonably priced. Drinks aren’t over pricey either and you can take your own anywhere you want, unlike most other festivals.

  
I spent a portion of the evening at the cinema tent watching one of my favourite films – Blade Runner: The Final Cut. The perfect way to round off the evening. I actually watched it a few weeks ago and had a review pending, which you can find here.

The vibe is something of a loving community that just wants to have a great time, which is what truly sets it apart from other festivals. It’s awesome to be back here and I can’t wait for the fun to really start tomorrow.

by hutchwp

Blade Runner: The Final Cut (Ridley Scott, 1982/2007)

I think I’ve now seen the definitive version of Blade Runner. The Final Cut, which I’ve stupidly had in my possession for almost a decade, is now firmly in the number one spot. For the first time, Scott is firmly in charge and has been able to create the vision he had over 30 years ago. In beautiful HD transfer (4K, 6K or 8K depending on the scene) and 5.1 surround sound, it provides the ultimate viewing experience even before you consider the content of the film is spot on.

There are, if you are unaware, five common versions of the film: Workprint (1982), Original Theatrical Cut (1982), International Cut (1982), Director’s Cut (1992) and Final Cut (2007). However, there are more detailed in an excellent article on Wikipedia. [1]

That there are so many versions clearly implies that the fans of the film are so enthusiastic that they keep coming back for more. Different people have their favourites but I’m on the Final Cut bandwagon.

The film is based in 2019 L.A. and centres around police officer Deckard, played by Harrison Ford, as he comes out of retirement to complete one final task as a “Blade Runner”. His job is to track down and kill four Tyrell Corporation Nexus-6 replicants (bioengineered humanoid robots) who have come to Earth illegally, possibly to extend their lives beyond their standard four year lifespan. As he tracks each down, he begins to question his own moral outlook and the nature of the replicants and his own humanity.

It's amazing what can be achieved when you eschew using digital effects.

It’s amazing what can be achieved when you eschew using digital effects.

Fans of sci-fi keep coming back to this film, and for good reason. Stylistically it was way ahead of its time and still looks stunning. It was a creation that predates CGI and the result is that there isn’t one set that doesn’t look like you could inhabit it. It’s a grim, dark look into a future which, at the time, seemed a long time away. Adjusted for inflation, the film cost just $70m, which is less than, for example, the entirely naff looking Dracula Untold.

A beautiful film with one of the greatest soundtracks of all time is all well and good, but it has to be driven by a gripping storyline. In my opinion, one of the enduring factors in the continued conversation is the many unanswered questions left after the original versions. The Final Cut does clear up at least one of the very critical questions. I imagine that advocates of previous versions would prefer to not have these questions answered but this is just the side of the fence I sit.

If you’ve not seen this film yet and have any inkling towards sci-fi of any kind, or indeed film noir, police dramas or classic cinema, then you need to put this right at the top of your “to watch” list. It simply needs to be seen and now that this definitive version is available there are no excuses.

I picked up this version of the film. It contains all five versions, heaps of bonus material, an artbook and a Syd Mead-designed collectible car model. There are other packages available but this, for me, is the ultimate package.

This 30th Anniversary Collector's Edition package is the ultimate version available in the UK.

This 30th Anniversary Collector’s Edition package is the ultimate version available in the UK.

[1] The three additional versions are San Diego Sneak Preview version, the US Broadcast version and a four-hour version shown to studio execs by Ridley Scott early in the film’s edit.

[2] This beautiful poster was designed by Jeremy Romand otherwise known as Caparzofpc.

by hutchwp

Side by Side (Christopher Kenneally, 2012)

Keanu Reeves acts as the face for this documentary, which explores the argument of which offers a richer viewing experience in cinema: traditional photochemical methods of recording on film or modern digital methods.

The people interviewed to build up what results in a pretty varied and balanced argument is exhaustive and includes directors, cinematographers, colourists, scientists, artists and other people associated with films. George Lucas unsurprisingly falls on the side of digital as he was the first to release a wholly-digital film in the now-cheap-looking Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones. Robert Rodriguez, also a digital advocate who uses his inspired methods to post-produce the graphic-novel-stylised Sin City as a springboard for his contributions, is an interesting contributor. Christopher Nolan comes across as a battle-hardened traditionalist who fights for every film he makes to not be done on digital film recorders. Danny Boyle offers an insightful discussion on the creative techniques used in 28 Days Later. Lara von Trier also discusses the Dogme 95 movement, which is so interesting it deserves its own film. Other interviewees include Phil Meheux, Martin Scorcese, Charles Herzfeld, Joel Schumacher and Alec Shapiro.

The documentary itself is rich in shots of masterpieces in cinema. It offers a great history of film and digital film, and a balanced opinion of which is better.

Keanu Reeves, in his role as the interviewer, is obviously very anti-digital. I couldn’t help wondering whether his passion for one side of the argument perhaps influenced everyone’s thought process on the subject matter when discussing, but it lifts it from a simple soundbite-style documentary by letting us know the creator actually has an opinion and wants to discuss the details with a host of interesting industry experts.

It’s a documentary that explores its subject thoroughly and in my opinion isn’t just for fans of the technical side of films. Each person has clearly been encouraged to be passionate about their anecdotes and the result is a highly entertaining documentary.

Side by Side is available now on DVD and Blu-Ray.

by hutchwp

Film review – Aimer, Boire et Chanter / Life of Riley (Alain Resnais, 2014)

I remember sitting in the Olympic Stadium back in 2012, as British sporting darling Jessica Ennis stepped up to take part in another leg of her gold medal winning heptathlon events. It was a fantastic day of British sporting achievement, one which we’ve come to know as Super Saturday. Mo Farah, Jessica Ennis and Greg Rutherford picked up a gold medal each that day, whilst the rest up Britain picked up a slice of happiness. Finally it was good to be British again. We could be proud to be British. We were all preparing to eat some fish and chips, put up the bunting and play some wiff-waff. But then we realised. Something odd was happening. The public announcements. They were unusual. They were being provided in two languages. One was British-English, the best kind of English. But, wait… Is that French? BEFORE OUR LANGUAGE!? Very quickly we had forgotten how great it was to be British and taken up our normal stance of complaining about something. How very dare they? [1]

With this in mind, it’s easy to see why Life of Riley failed to ignite the British public’s interest when it was released back in 2014. The screenplay, provided by Laurent Herbiet, Alex Reval (a pseudonym for Alain Resnais) and playwright Jean-Marie Besset, follows closely the original Alan Ayckbourn play on which it is based. Ayckbourn is a quintessentially British playwright, the voice of the suburban British middle class. When the film opens and we see a car slowly drifting along a country road towards the heart of Yorkshire, we know where we stand. But then we get slapped in the face again. Why is everyone speaking in French? [2]


Of course, the more discerning amongst the cinema-goers – to which this film is primarily aimed – will see beyond this thin veneer and find quite a rewarding film. The cast provide a lot of depth to the plot, and bring it to life through some highly comedic performances, despite it constantly living in danger of slowing down slightly too much. It does fall short on a few occasions, with the pacing at fault for the lulls.

It centres around an off-screen character named George Riley, who we learn early on is dying of cancer. With months to live, the people central to his life decide it would be a good idea to have him join them in their local theatre production of another Ayckbourn play, Relatively Speaking. Those people consist of three couples: diagnosing doctor Colin and his wife Kathryn (Hippolyte Girardot and Sabine Azéma); George’s best friend Jack and his wife Tamara (Michel Vuillermoz and Caroline Silhol); and George’s ex-wife Monica and her new partner Simeon (Sandrine Kiberlain and André Dussollier). Alba Gaïa Kraghede Bellugi briefly appears as Tilly, daughter of Kathryn and Colin, in a moving final scene of the film. Most of the humour derives from the fact that our unseen titular character is evidently somewhat of a charmer and as the play continues forward and his clock is ticking down, they struggle to court his affections in increasingly desperate ways, resulting in a playoff as he decides who he takes on his final holiday to Tenerife, much to the disdain of their respective partners.

The distinctive set design is complimented by Dominique Bouilleret’s cinematography and essentially the setting of Yorkshire could have been dropped altogether. The film has the look and feel entirely of watching a play, but I did wonder whether or not it could have achieved something more given the capabilities of film as a medium over theatre.

The film premiered in competition at the 2013 Berlin Film Festival, in what would prove to be three weeks prior to the death of director Resnais. Thus, Life of Riley proved to be his swansong. I’m not convinced it would have been his first choice of film to tell at the end of his life, but it certainly doesn’t allow his career to finish on a low note. It is somewhat fitting that it would be a final return to Ayckbourn, having already adapted two other plays. It isn’t life-changing, but it is certainly not to be dismissed.

Life of Riley is available on Masters of Cinema dual-format Blu-Ray and DVD now.

[1] Dare they might, and justifiably so. French is the first language of the Olympic movement, based in the French-speaking city of Lausanne.

[2] I find this hilarious, by the way. I would like to apologise to the entire world for every single time an English or American film has decided to cast someone who can’t speak the language of the character they are portraying and asked them to speak in English with an invariably hammy accent. It’s a massive embarrassment. I still have no idea why studios are so reluctant to cast native speakers in big roles. The entire illusion of a film is lost on me when you can’t even have someone speak in the correct language.

by hutchwp

Destino (Dominique Monféry, 2003)

I recently saw the news that there will be a special exhibition opening at the Walt Disney Family Museum in San Francisco on 10th July. Running into January 2016, the exhibition will cover the bond between Walt Disney and surrealist painter Salvador Dali, two men whose creative outputs couldn’t seem further from one another, despite the fact they were good friends who remained in close contact throughout their lives.

destino3

You could take every frame of animation and hang it on your wall.

Were you to create a Venn diagram of the creative output of the two artists, the small ellipse in the middle would be represented by the bizarrely brilliant Destino. First conceptualised in 1946, the film was eventually released in 2003 to the general public as an unusual opening short for Calendar Girls.

Destino may have been realised and released 57 years after it was started, but it was worth the wait. It’s a beautiful, dream-like short that has been lovingly created by a team of Parisian artists based on the original storyboards by Dali and studio artists John Hench. I’ve watched it so many times. I won’t explain the storyline – it’s less than 7 minutes long so you don’t have much to lose.

The film can be watched online at YouTube here:

As a resolution snob, the very best way to watch this excellent work of art is to purchase Fantasia 2000 on Blu-ray“>. For some reason the fact it is included on this disc is barely mentioned anywhere other than on the boxart, with Amazon choosing to just describe the somewhat lacklustre film instead. I feel this is an injustice as something as important as this should be brought to the attention of anyone who might be looking. It really ought to show up when you search “Disney Destino” or “Dali Destino”. It’s a no-brainer.

It was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Animated Short in 2004, though both this and the extremely memorable Boundin’ from Pixar were beaten by a short called Harvey Krumpet, which you can watch here.

by hutchwp

Listen Up Philip (Alex Ross Perry, 2015)

A fast-paced and uncompromising opening scene introduces us to our lead character Philip Lewis Friedman (Jason Schwartzman), a well-regarded writer on the cusp of releasing the follow-up to a popular and critically praised debut novel. On a rampage to rub his success into people from his previous life, he exposes all his character flaws. He’s rude, frank and cynical and it’s hard from this point to feel any sympathy for him, which on an emotional level makes it hard to connect with him as a central character. Indeed, not many of the characters emote any kind of solicitude at any point in the film, bar perhaps Philip’s long-suffering girlfriend Ashley (Elisabeth Moss). This, however, doesn’t necessarily make for a bad piece of cinema. Quite the contrary.

Schwarzman is at home in a role full of self-importance and low in empathy for those around him.

Schwartzman is at home in a role full of self-importance and low in empathy for those around him.

Philip’s story carries on from here, through the prolonged breakdown of his relationship with Ashley, making a connection with similarly cynical writer Ike Zimmerman (Jonathan Pryce) and his lonesome daughter Melanie (Krysten Ritter) and later on a young and jealous academic Yvette (Josephine de la Baume). It doesn’t refrain from taking gambles on the attention span of the audience, taking several sharp turns in the storyline to cover a lot of ground in a short time frame (109 minutes).

It is communicated in a form that serves as a kind of fake biography, with a narration taking a matter-of-fact tone that gives us a knowing reassurance, almost as if the person behind the voice is channeling his words from a future where it is known that Philip Lewis Friedman is one of the world’s most renowned writers. This is reinforced by the closing credits, where we see a montage of book covers released by the characters from the movie. To be honest, it is the only way the film could tie itself together. Each character is introduced to us from a position of imbalance and for the most part they spiral into a world of depression and failure. It wasn’t until a brilliant final scene that I felt like there was a reason to drag us through the emotional dirt; it perfectly balanced a fine moment of acting from Schwartzman with some clever lighting and cinematography, on top of which laid an overarching statement that justified the cause behind the story itself.

Elisabeth Moss gives an emotional charge to Ashley as she grows in confidence

Elisabeth Moss gives an emotional charge to Ashley as she grows in confidence.

Schwartzman is in fine form throughout, in a role not too dissimilar to others we’ve loved to hate him in (Rushmore, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World). Irritating and overly-confident characters are something of his forte, which is funny if not just because he comes across as anything but irritating in interviews he gives. Moss is also given the opportunity to portray a character of real emotional depth who grows in confidence as the story progresses. It’s a shame that her segment of the film seems like something of a departure from the central thread that was otherwise progressing nicely, though overall it was necessary for the final payoff.

I’ve intelligently reviewed this as this film exits cinemas, though it is seeing a home media release on Masters of Cinema Dual Format Blu-Ray & DVD in late July.

by hutchwp

Walt Disney: An American Original (Bob Thomas, 1994)

Walt Disney once said “I would rather entertain and hope that people learned something than educate people and hope they were entertained.” Whilst this isn’t strictly true of this book, there’s an awareness from the author of who his audience is and as we journey through the life of one of the greatest Americans of the 20th Century, we certainly see the best side of him.

I’m always keen to find out more about the life of an expert filmmaker and you don’t get much more expert than Walt Disney. Alas, his life wasn’t limited to making films.

In this book we cover his upbringing, early career as a political satire cartoonist, his earliest business ventures (including Laugh-o-Gram Studios), the creation (and loss) of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, the subsequent creation of Mickey Mouse and the Silly Symphonies, the blooming of Disney Brothers Cartoon Studio as a standalone company, the break into feature-length motion pictures, the struggles throughout World War II, the rebuilding of the company, his various television series, the creation of two theme parks, his family life and his sad passing in the mid 1960s. Evidently his life was far from boring and it makes for a fascinating read.

The book was officially supported by the Disney estate and various companies, and this means the author Bob Thomas was allowed unprecedented access to close colleagues and relatives for interviews, as well as more resources than anyone was previously afforded. Unfortunately the fact it is licensed has its price. At times the discussions seemed a little sugar-coated and I found myself wondering if something was being hidden. Certainly in the formative years things seemed to fall into place in a fairytale-like manner, with Walt having an uncanny ability to come up smelling like roses. During the studio strikes in the 1940s and throughout the war, I couldn’t help but think a lot of information was being glossed over for fear of losing support from the company. The accusations of anti-semitism that have dogged his name for many years could have been explored and disputed, but instead they simply weren’t mentioned. There are other examples of this throughout and I ended up longing to find out the whole story rather than a risk-free one.

What we end up with is an excellent read full of fascinating tales, but which shouldn’t be taken at face value. Be aware of the Disney logos slapped on the cover of the book and the fact it is so readily available in official Disney Stores. It’s worth a read if you’re happy to either put this to one side, read between the lines or blissfully ignore it all together.

by hutchwp

Death Mills (Billy Wilder, 1946)

I talked previously about my interest in the upcoming release of the film Concentration Camps: A Factual Survey (on limited release at the moment across the UK, though no sign of a Blu-ray/DVD release as yet). Whilst this BFI restoration has been receiving plenty of attention, it isn’t the only film of its type that exists. One other such film is Death Mills, directed by Billy Wilder. In truth, the film is actually a truncated version of the longer Factual Surveys, with Wilder selecting only 22 minutes of footage to create a short film.

The films in question had a very particular purpose: to capture the first looks inside the concentration camps that had been in operation during World War II; to ensure that the atrocities inside the camps were filmed for the whole world to see and could never be forgotten, despite the Nazi Party’s best attempts to cover them up. Another important purpose was to ensure they were shown to all Germans to show them exactly what was happening at the camps, to avoid any shadow of doubt for denial.

The contents of the film are visually shocking and not for the faint-hearted. It is a wholly distressing watch. The impact of the images, which speak for themselves, is heightened by an effective score and a doom-laden voiceover. It’s one thing to see the camps being portrayed in a fictionalised film, but something else completely to see the reality first-hand. The images, quite simply, are the darkest I have ever seen committed to film.

At the time this was made, Billy Wilder was one of the hottest directorial talents in the world. He had won the Academy Awards for Best Director and Best Original Screenplay for The Lost Weekend in 1945, a year after the release of critically acclaimed Double Indemnity (which was nominated for seven Academy Awards and still regularly appears on greatest films lists). Despite his Western-sounding name, he had in fact been born Samuel Wilder in Austria-Hungary (in a region now part of Poland) and later escaped in the early 1930s to Paris in light of the rise of the Nazi Party. He eventually made his way to Hollywood in 1933, though his family remained in Poland and were murdered during the Holocaust. It is for this reason that Wilder would have felt so passionately about taking part in the project, making his visit to the camp in Auschwitz all-the-more poignant as at the time he believed this to be the place of death for his mother, grandmother and stepfather (though in fact this was later disproved by Wilder biographer Andreas Hutter). Interestingly, the film doesn’t make a particular point of detailing quite how many Jewish people were killed in the Holocaust, perhaps because the exact figures weren’t quite understood at the time.

This is a deliberately distressing film but one of such importance as a historical document that it deserves to be watched. It is important it is made available now so that those who lost their lives so needlessly are never forgotten.

by hutchwp

Melody Time (Jack Kinney, Clyde Geronimi, Hamilton Luske and Wilfred Jackson, 1948)

Walt Disney Studios had a glorious start to the production of full-length motion pictures. The first five releases are still considered to be up there with the best animated films ever released: Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (1939), Pinocchio (1940), Fantasia (1940) Dumbo (1941) and Bambi (1942). However, the early 1940s brought a fresh set of problems to the company. First, a union strike led to a mass exodus of staff (around 40% left). Then, when the US and Canada entered World War II, almost all of the animators and production team were either signed up as soldiers or drafted in to produce propaganda cartoons for the war effort. The main production studio was occupied by US military for various reasons. A disinterested public meant that Bambi sold less than expected. 

With a skeleton staff still in place, Disney opted to produce several of what would become known as package films. The first two – Saludos Amigos (1942) and The Three Caballeros (1944) – gave Walt an excuse to leave his normal settings and escape for a few months to South and Central America. Make Mine Music (1946), Fun and Fancy Free (1947), Melody Time (1948) and The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr Toad (1949) followed, though they were approached from a position of compromise. Their sole purpose was to recoup money lost in various venture so, including the production of war propaganda films for cost only. 

Whilst these films have their own merits, they were mainly box-office flops and over the years clearly haven’t been as well regarded as the films released before of after this spell. [1]

The films tended to feature several short films on an associated theme (with the exception of The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr Toad, which was simply two unrelated stories fixed together), often based around some kind of musical accompaniment in the same vain as Fantasia, which was a huge success and is a classic film rich in experimentation and ideas. Melody Time, unfortunately, cannot be classed in the same league.

Melody Time features seven mini-musicals. Of note is the reappearance of The Three Caballeros in the short Blame It On The Samba, which gives us another chance to enjoy some crowd-pleasing characters. Another highlight is Bumble Boogie, which is essentially a cut from Fantasia that never made it near to full production at that point. If you’re a huge fan of both Fantasia and Fantasia 2000 then this is another good place to see similar styles. A personal favourite is Once Upon A Wintertime, which features a classic Disney tale backed by a perfectly chosen piece of music.

This film is a curiosity more than anything. It’s not the best of the package movies but stands alongside the Fables releases as something worth checking out to build up a full picture of the company during the late 1940s and early 1950s.

Melody Time is available on DVD but currently there are no plans to bring it tk Blu-ray.

[1] The five films released after the return to full-length motion pictures were Cinderella (1950), Alice in Wonderland (1951), Peter Pan (1953), Lady and the Tramp (1955) and Sleeping Beauty (1959). Some return to form!

by hutchwp

Tabu: A Story of the South Seas (F. W. Murnau, 1931)

The last of four films Murnau made after moving to America – the others being the Oscar winning Sunrise, the excellent City Girl and the now-lost Four Devils – Tabu marked something of a departure for the master director. He travelled to Bora Bora near Tahiti with documentary filmmaker Robert J. Flaherty. Setting out to make a docufiction film as co-director, it quickly became apparent that Murnau wanted complete control and Flaherty was bought out of his share of the film.

Despite the unusual setting, this has all the hallmarks of a classic Murnau romance.

Despite the unusual setting, this has all the hallmarks of a classic Murnau romance.

The result of this is an opening sequence that seems very much like a documentary film, with native islanders (almost every actor in the film was an untrained native, along with most of the production crew) fishing, playing and acting naturally. According to the extensive booklet notes (thanks again Masters of Cinema), this was the only sequence Flaherty directed before he encountered technical issues with his camera and brought in cameraman Floyd Crosby to assist. The upshot of this was that the rest of the film was the responsibility of Murnau.

Subsequently, we then pick up on a more traditional method of storytelling. A girl named Reri (Anna Chevalier) is chosen by aged emissary Hitu of neighbouring island Fanuma to be the replacement maiden to the Gods. She is to be transported to the island to live there free of any kind of relationship; from this point on she is “tabu”. This is terrible news for both Reri and her lover Matahi, who defy this command and escape the island to a French-colonised island nearby.

The story of two lovers remaining together despite adversity is reminiscent of both Sunrise and City Girl, and other than the unfamiliar setting Murnau is on safe territory. It doesn’t feel stale, but it’s certainly the least dynamic of the three available Hollywood films. Both lead characters give assured performances in their roles despite a lack of experience. Matahi never worked on another film following this release. Anne Chevalier worked on two subsequent films (Polish film Czarna Perla and an uncredited role in John Ford’s The Hurricane) but neither are as fondly remembered as Tabu.

F. W. Murnau’s final film was actually released a week after his death. Whilst working on the sound for the film, Murnau was being driven up the coast from Los Angeles by a 14-year-old Fillipino servant and was involved in a car crash, dying a day later in hospital. It’s a shame that this was his last film and a tragedy that his life was cut short so early, robbing the world of countless more exceptional films. He had actually spent most of his final months on the island Bora Bora, having enjoyed his time there so much.

The definitive version of Tabu is available on Masters of Cinema Blu-ray and DVD dual-format release, packed with extras (deleted scenes, a short film directed by Flaherty using leftover footage, a documentary) and with an immaculate transfer. It also restores scenes that were cut before its original release, as well as those taken out in subsequent cuts over the intervening years (the explanation for all of this is in the extensive booklet that’s included in the box)