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Gray's Anatomy (Dir: Steven Soderbergh - 1996)
The art of the storyteller is a dying one in this age of mass media coverage, high definition video and all encompassing technology, where epic tales are writ large on a huge screen and in 3D to boot. This generation's stories come with a high sheen, lots of noise and a slew of cgi effects in the telling, but there was a time - not so long ago, when Spalding Gray still walked the earth and told simpler stories that were no less enthralling for them being related by a single man sitting at a desk with a microphone in front of him. This is the third filmed monologue from the incomparable Spalding Gray. This time out, he relates his experiences of finding out he has a rare eye disorder (a macular pucker - in reality about as serious as it sounds, and certainly not life threatening), the frantic search first for confirmation, then some sort of cure. With this interesting premise and the foreknowledge of Gray's tendency toward neurosis, this monologue is even funnier and more engaging than both Swimming To Cambodia and Monster In A Box. That Spalding Gray could hold an audiences attention for an hour and a half with nothing but articulate storytelling, his charisma and natural exuberance and a glass of water is remarkable. That he was willing to bare his soul with a nod and a wink at the absurdity of modern life and his odd place within it should be treasured by anyone interested in what makes a man tick. And for those just looking for some entertainment and a few chuckles and imagine that watching a guy talk for an hour and a half about incidents from his life sounds about as exciting as watching your nails grow, trust me - this is more entertaining than anything at the local multiplex for those willing to stretch to something a little more off the beaten track. Soderbergh utilises some interesting lighting and sound effects to pep things up, but really when he's firing on all cylinders as he is here, all you need is Spalding Gray sitting at a table doing his thing. |
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Heavy (Dir: James Mangold - 1995)
Pruitt Taylor Vince is Victor - a lonely and overweight young man heavily dependant on his ageing mother with whom he still lives. When his mother dies one day he's distraught and for a time carries on as if nothing has happened. He continues to work as a cook in the local diner without telling anyone of his loss until Callie - a beautiful young waitress arrives in town, and gets a job in his diner. He quickly forms an attachment with this young woman and falls in love, which is kind of tragic because as nice as Callie is we know it's never going to go anywhere. Liv Tyler plays this part with real understanding, and Deborah Harry - of Blondie fame - puts in a strong performance as an ageing waitress threatened by the younger, prettier and much more polite Callie. Heavy is the kind of film that's becoming a real rarity in Hollywood - an understated drama with real heart, and minimal emotional manipulation. It has a real air of melancholy about it, and Mangold does a wonderful job of illustrating how difficult, even painful it can be for those of a sensitive disposition to find love and contentment in the modern world. Pruitt Taylor Vince is an absolute marvel as Victor and it's certainly worth seeing this film for his performance alone. He portrays the pain of abandonment and uncertainty of how to deal with the world in such an understated and powerful way that it's amazing his performance wasn't recognised as the best of the year. With such good performances and an intelligent script this whisper of a movie packs more emotional punch than a hundred Titanics. |
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The Legend of 1900 (Dir: Guiseppe Tornatore - 1998)
Tim Roth stars as the oddly named Danny Boodmann T.D. Lemon Nineteen Hundred - a man who was born on a boat and has never in his life stepped foot on dry land. He's a virtuoso pianist and has spent his whole life entertaining the guests onboard a cruise liner which is now scheduled to be decommissioned and destroyed. The story is told in a series of long flashbacks, as recalled by Max Tooney (Pruitt Taylor Vince in another fantastic performance), a one time horn player who accompanied 1900 as a fellow musician on some of the ships voyages. While pawning his trumpet Tooney happens upon a rare recording of the great piano playing from his enigmatic friend, and sets about trying to track him down. Tim Roth's performance is infectiously exuberant, and director Guiseppe Tornatore has a knack of combining realistic settings with outlandish situations and infusing them with a kind of nostalgic whimsy that's utterly charming. In fact this film is billed as a 'fable' and this is quite apt, as it was for Tornatore's perennially popular Cinema Paradiso, but The Legend of 1900, while more fantastical than Cinema Paradiso is just as touching, while at the same time managing to be more mysterious, certainly much funnier, more fascinating in it's oddness and consequently more engaging all round. At least for this viewer. 'Magic Realism' at its finest. |
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The Mill & The Cross (Dir: Lech Majewski - 2011)
What do you do when you're sick of watching the generic fare coming out of Hollywood each year? When you hanker for something a bit different? Maybe you fancy something without so much emphasis on traditional narrative, and more on thematic concerns, stylistic choices and general form? Well, you could do a lot worse than to give The Mill & The Cross a watch. Part rumination on the life of an artist - in this case the great Flemish master Pieter Bruegel the Elder, part exploration of life in 16th century Flanders, and part recreation of Bruegel's 1564 painting The Way To Calvary, brought to vivid life. This was obviously a labour of love for director Lech Majewski and his passion for the subject shows in the painstaking attention to detail in every frame. If you're after compelling and beautifully composed images then this film has more than you can shake a stick at. If you appreciate perfect framing and lush photography then you will most assuredly not be disappointed. This film has much to offer - to art lovers, to historians, and most of all to the more thoughtful and adventurous cinephile. You won't come across many films like this, no matter how much of an intrepid explorer of cinema you consider yourself, and you'll be hard pressed to find a more accomplished and heartfelt love letter to the life and work of an artist, and an appreciation of his time and place than this majestic piece. It may not be to everyone's taste but it's a film like no other and to judge it you really have to see it rather than read about it because words don't do it justice. |
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Owning Mahowny (Dir: Richard Kwietniowski - 2003)
This is a little known production from Canada that would be even less well-known were it not for the fact that it stars the incomparable Philip Seymour Hoffman. In fact even with Hoffman, Minnie Driver and John Hurt on board you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who has seen this absolute gem of a character study. Dan Mahowny is a bank manager from Toronto wrestling with his growing gambling problem, and the fact that he's a bank manager is not helping, as he is faced with the daily temptation of a practically endless supply of cash - albeit not his own. When the protagonist has such an all-consuming gambling habit, and is surrounded by such a large amount of money in his workplace you just know it's not going to take long for things to spin out of control, and indeed they do. The speed with which his debts mount and the sheer scale of them beggars belief, but if you were to ask Dan about the whole thing he'd only admit to having 'a few financial problems'. And what makes the whole thing even more chilling is the fact that 'Dan Mahowny' is an actual person (real name Brian Molony) who really did do the things portrayed in this film. Philip Seymour Hoffman in the title role gives a performance of such mesmerising intensity that you just can't take your eyes off him wherever he is in the frame and whatever else is happening around him. There are surprisingly few films that deal directly with the psychology of gamblers and their fascinating addiction, and this is one of the very best. |
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Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead (Dir: Tom Stoppard - 1990)
Two minor characters (Gary Oldman and Tim Roth as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, respectively...or is it the other way round?) wander through the setting of Shakespeare's Hamlet, oblivious to their doomed roles in the plays plot. They both seem like free spirits at first, especially Rosencrantz, who's a curious fellow and stumbles across the answer to many a familiar quandary and wonders at the oddness of many others on their travels. It soon becomes clear however that both of their fates are sealed and that their actions are pre-ordained. Of course they are, we remind ourselves - we've all read Hamlet and know their fate! But when, if ever will they realise it? This is the kind of film that could only have come from the pen of Tom Stoppard. Featuring wonderfully witty dialogue and some priceless verbal gymnastics, Stoppard directs this adaptation of his own play (with a bit of help from an uncredited Shakespeare) with a competent hand and a liberal dash of frivolity. Roth and Oldman as the eponymous heroes are both superb, as is Richard Dreyfuss as a travelling thespian. This is a film not afraid to be intelligent and most of the jokes revolve around clever wordplay or rely on a certain level of general knowledge, so it's aimed at educated adults - a demographic generally ignored by filmmakers these days. If the brilliant opening ten minutes don't hook you then you're probably not going to like this film, but anyone that appreciates clever wordplay, double-entendres and the odd bon mot would do well to settle in for the duration, and pay attention, because it can get a little labyrinthine at times, but it never loses its exquisite sense of fun. |
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The Sunset Limited (Dir: Tommy Lee Jones - 2011)
Movie making is much more than simple logistics, and while it may be impressive for Michael Bay to successfully wrangle all his minions to do his bidding and end up with a polished final product, if it's just that - a product - then the achievement is very much diminished and the end result tends to be as sterile and uninteresting as homogenised milk. And in fact a seemingly simple, no frills set-up like people talking in a room may be more difficult to pull off well than any blockbuster designed with massive consumption in mind; after all, how do you make two guys talking in a run down apartment interesting? Put simply The Sunset Limited is just that - two men in a room debating what it means to be alive, how they see the world and the people in it and what they believe is the purpose of their existence. We're aware from the beginning that Jones' character has just attempted suicide by throwing himself under a train - The Sunset Limited - and was somehow stopped by Jackson, who works at the station and who can't understand why anyone would want to take their own life. The rest of the film is the two metaphorically wrestling for Jones' soul and it's a joy to see two class acts at the top of their game giving it their all because it means something more to them than just a paycheck. Both Tommy Lee Jones as the staunch atheist and Samuel L. Jackson as the true believer are magnificent here; you can tell they're relishing being given dialogue (by Cormac McCarthy, on whose play this film is based) that's leagues ahead of what they're used to dealing with. Credit also to Jones for making such an involving film from what could have easily been a static and dry affair. |
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