Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1

 
2010

Dir: David Yates

 
Where the devil did this come from?

I know the films have been gradually growing better with each outing, but I never thought we’d get this far into the adult world of cinema (not that one, pervs) before the fresh faced public school trio disappear into obscurity. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One is really, honestly, and I am in no way, shape or form kidding any of you pretentious, artsy film buffs out there, a bloody good film.

You know the plot right? You don’t!? Oh crap, I really didn’t want to have to summarise this one.
Following the death of Dumbledore (that’s not still a spoiler is it?), things are looking bleak for the wizarding world. So bleak, in fact, that it isn’t even safe for Harry, Ron and Hermione to go back to Hogwarts this year. Somehow school just doesn’t seem that important when faced by the Apocalypse does it? So, in search of the five (or is it six? Who the hell knows?) other Horcruxes needed to destroy Lord Voldemort, our titular bespectacled hero and his romantically entwined chums must go it alone this time.

Director David Yates must have been watching The Road on a constant loop before making this film, because you half expect Viggo Mortensen’s grizzled father to push his shopping trolley into Harry and Hermione’s tent at any second. Cinematographer Eduardo Serra’s landscape captures the same kind of earthy, woody post-Apocalyptic texture as John Hillcoat’s adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s novel did. This isn’t the barren, desert wasteland of the Mad Max films, or even the more recent Book of Eli effort from The Hughes Brothers. This is a far darker world where everything is dying before our eyes. It’s a bold choice from the director, not least because the world hasn’t actually ended, but it might as well have, as Voldemort’s jackbooted Death Eaters stalk the lands in search of dissenters like a cross between The Road’s cannibals and SS Stormtroopers. Only with cockney accents.

It’s hard to miss the Nazi imagery, especially on Harry’s little romp inside the Ministry of Magic, which has now become much more like 1984’s Ministry of Truth. That is what is so pleasing about Death Hallows; despite its glum, serious tone, there are still tremendously fun sequences that remind you why you fell in love with J.K. Rowling’s world in the first place.

The three leads are, as ever, trying their best, and no, they’re never going to win any awards for their jaw-clenched, hand-trembling efforts to show emotion, but this is certainly the best they have looked so far in the series. The real fun comes predictably in the numerous outlandish cameos (because that’s all they really are in this film) of the adults, from Rhys Ifans’ dotty turn as Xenophilius Lovegood to Peter Mullan’s growling and sinister performance as Death Eater Yaxley. They all hit the right notes.

I was a huge fan of both the Half-Blood Prince book and film, but when it came to the series’ conclusion, I was less than impressed by Rowling’s effort. Yates and his team have really turned it around though, turning the first part of the Deathly Hallows into an enthralling action adventure, a thought-provoking Art house movie, and a visual feast all at the same time. Just like its central characters, this series really has come of age, and I can’t wait for the final instalment.

**** ¼ / *****

The Tory Party Conference.

Macbeth

 
1971

Dir: Roman Polanski

When it comes to the works of William Shakespeare, there isn’t a grimier, dirtier, more disturbing world than the one depicted in Macbeth. It might not have the same mortality rate as other plays such as Hamlet or Henry V, but there is just something so psychologically, skin-scrapingly wicked about ‘The Scottish Play’ that it sends a shiver right down your spine. Who better than Roman Polanski then to bring this bloody tale to the silver screen?

The plot, as if you needed telling, revolves around titular hero Macbeth, who, fresh off vanquishing the villainous and treacherous Thane of Cawdor on behalf of King Duncan, encounters a trio of weird sisters, who greet him first as Thane of Cawdor, and then as the future King, as well as promising his companion, Banquo, that many future kings will come from him. Soon, greed, envy, jealously, paranoia, fear, and the sweet whisperings of his wife all work to drive Macbeth from hero to one of the most despicable villains in fictional history.

Though not quite as essential as theatrical performances, the actors are still key within Polanski’s interpretation of The Bard’s darkest tale. While Jon Finch is note perfect as the initially reluctant, yet ultimately sadistic Macbeth, Francesca Annis is miscast as his wife. Lady Macbeth is thought by many to rival the likes of Macbeth, and even Othello’s Iago for the title of Shakespeare’s greatest villain, given the ease with which she goes from loving wife to plotting murderer, manipulating her impressionable husband at every turn. Other than being quite the looker, Annis never makes you believe that she holds such power over her lover. She looks more suited to the role of Desdemona or Ophelia given her youth; but that could be seen as an intentional ploy in order to make it believable that everyone would, foolishly, trust this female serpent due to her girlish beauty. That would almost make it forgivable if it wasn’t for Annis’ failure on the actual delivery. I’ve seen this film each time with my father, an English teacher, who has read Macbeth and seen more adaptations of it than anyone in the history of the world. He absolutely loves it to death. He can quote entire passages. Yet he shares my feelings about Annis’ portrayal of Lady Macbeth. Her delivery is rushed, almost frightened; not the cool, calm, calculating malice that we are used to.

Finch, on the other hand, grows into his role as the film goes on. Polanski’s decision to have the famous soliloquies as inner monologues rather than external speeches does not hinder the effect at all, mainly thanks to Finch’s facial work. The fear we see in him as he waits outside Duncan’s bedchamber is wonderful, and it helps that Gil Taylor’s magnificent cinematography plunges his face in and out of shadow with all the subtlety of a John Carpenter horror. Never has Scotland looked more grey and bleak and downright turgid than this. And you know what? It’s never looked better.

I find myself speaking about post-Apocalyptic landscapes a lot in this blog, but when it’s done right, it doesn’t half improve the atmosphere of the film. Polanski and Taylor have nailed it here. It almost feels as though you are watching through a cloudy glass. The opening scenes on the beach set the tone perfectly for what is to come. Compared to other Shakespearean adaptations, this is about as far from the sunny Venetian beaches of Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet as you can get, and much nastier than other dark renditions, such as Franco Zeffirelli’s Hamlet and Oliver Parker’s Othello.

The Third Ear Band’s weird and wonderful soundtrack is the perfect accompaniment to such a menacing movie as this. When all of your senses are being told that something strange is going on, soon enough your brain is going to start believing it too.

**** / *****

"Is this a great film which I see before me?"

The Lives of Others a.k.a Das Leben der Anderen

 
2006

Dir: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck

 There is something unmistakably calm about The Lives of Others. It is a trait of European fiction, perhaps more so than any other region, to do so much with so little. It is the understanding that humanity itself, its intricacies and emotions, is thrilling enough without the excess drippings of clichéd narrative conventions. Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s 2006 German thriller may just be the greatest example of this I’ve ever seen.

In East Germany during the 1980s, the seemingly emotionless Stasi agent Wiesler is tasked with spying on the under suspicion playwright Dreyman and his actress lover. As time goes on, Wiesler’s granite exterior begins to crack, as he finds himself empathising more and more with the tragic yet courageous artist, an emotional breakthrough that threatens not only Dreyman, but his own safety.

The calmest thing about The Lives of Others is Ulrich Mühe. As the Stasi agent Wiesler, he does a truly magnificent job of going from the cruel, hardened, emotionally deceased man we meet in the beginning, to the rejuvenated, enlightened, free being we see at the end. And he does all this without his face barely moving an inch. There is no mugging, no obvious emotional gurning; the change is subtle. We see it in his eyes. We see it at the corner of his mouth. It’s a superb piece of acting that holds the film together.

Mühe’s Wiesler actually becomes the emotional centre of the film, rather than the playwright Dreyman. Sebastian Koch does a fine job as Dreyman, but the character is a little bit too inaccessible at times. He is your typical handsome artist with his beautiful girlfriend, who smokes and looks cool permanently, whilst saving the world in his spare time. That’s great and all, but it’s far easier to locate ourselves within the ugly, balding man listening to the lovers shagging in a darkened room somewhere. It isn’t perverse, it isn’t sexual, it’s just a sort of pathetic curiosity into the lives of much more cool, exciting, talented, beautiful and interesting people than you. The Lives of Others is the ultimate voyeuristic delight, and when things start to get deadly serious later on for our hero, it feels as though you personally have been discovered watching this film late at night in your boxer shorts with a bacon sandwich in your hand. I don’t think I’ve ever rooted so hard for someone to escape.

It could also be argued that the film, given its subject matter, is a little too stylised. That is partly true. It looks gorgeous, with earthy browns of the writer’s world contrasted wonderfully with the metallic, soulless greys of the Stasi. The visuals are used effectively, so its stylish appearance is necessary, and, after all, it is a bloody film. It’s supposed to look good.

Another possible flaw is unintentional smugness. Considering the fact that everyone who worked on this film is a so-called ‘artist’, and a lot of the people watching it would also label themselves as such, it occasionally comes across as a bit ‘pat yourself on the back’, self-congratulatory, but very fleetingly.

The overall subtlety of the film forces you to stand up and take notice at the end when the tension increases, such a shock is it to the previously relaxed flow. Sometimes European cinema can become just as frenetic as others - you only have to look at any early Guy Ritchie film to know that - but The Lives of Others has captured that serene mood, similar to but obviously less strange than Werner Herzog’s earlier efforts, and allows the obvious seriousness of its story to do much of the work, anchored by a series of strong performances. The French film A Prophet by Jacques Audiard is another example of a contemporary European thriller with that know how to manipulate its audience using minimal effects.

Whilst The Lives of Others is not the greatest film ever made, as some have rather pretentiously hailed it, it is a breathtaking, serious, calm look at a very murky subject. Plus, it has an 80s freeze-frame ending, and that is never a bad thing.

**** ¼ / *****

Watch and enjoy.

The Wicker Man

 
1973

Dir: Robin Hardy

 
Re-watching this film before going away to a remote village for a few days was possibly the worst idea I’ve ever had. Fortunately I was with my fellow blogger, so if things had turned nasty and the friend we were visiting had gone all Deliverance on us, I could have used him as a human shield.

Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man is an English Horror classic. I’ve been re-watching a lot of the so-called ‘Classic’ horrors lately, since, as a young man, they still have a fresh, chilling and unsettling effect on me that older people who first saw them may have become immune to. Well, I can safely say that my skin is still crawling.

Police Sergeant Howie travels to the remote Hebridean island Summerisle to investigate the disappearance of a young girl. There he encounters the strangest group of people possible to a devout Christian such as him: pagans. Despite their religious differences, everyone seems perfectly fine at first, but soon enough, sinister events envelop the island and the good officer.

As if its DVD cover didn’t give it away, the ending to The Wicker Man is fantastic. As Horror conclusions go, it’s right up with the frenetic insanity of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, that leaves your ears ringing for days after, or the heart-numbing shock of Anthony Perkins’ smiling skull in Psycho. It really is hard to get past the ending, and I won’t give it away, but I promise you it will sear the enamel right off your teeth.

The rest of the film isn’t half bad either, as Edward Woodward’s annoyingly prudish copper frogmarches his way around the fictional island of Summerisle, insulting anyone who doesn’t believe in the same geezer in the clouds as him. It also features one of the greatest religious putdowns ever; as Christopher Lee’s bombastic and sinister Lord Summerisle well and truly pimp-slaps Howie for his dogmatic ways. Woodward is fine as the stiff Howie, although for a protagonist, he’s about as sympathetic as Hitler. The interest comes from the islanders, in particular Lee, of course, and Britt Ekland, whose naked dance was a pleasant surprise, and made me despair of Howie even more.

As with a lot of the classic horrors of this period, the sound of the film is one of its most unsettling aspects. Whilst in Tobe Hooper’s aforementioned Deep South massacre the constant buzzing of insects begins to scrape at your brain, and John Carpenter synthesizers the fear of God into you in Halloween, The Wicker Man opts for plenty of silence. Wind and silence. Paul Giovanni inserts some music right out of The Third Ear Band playbook, jutting and jarring the silence with sudden flashes of unusual noise to remind that something is seriously wrong here.

Visually, The Wicker Man may be the brightest horror film ever. Hardy’s choice to set almost the entire film during the day is an effective way of highlighting the unforgiving space of the island. There really is no way out for our irritating hero. Just the clouds.

As stated above, it’s hard to get past that ending, but it’s everything leading up to that truly devastating moment that will leave you rooted to your seat long after the film has ended.

**** / *****

Pagans 1 - 0 Christians