The Silence of the Lambs (1991, dir. Jonathan Demme)

    Due to technical complications, I wasn't able to see the next film on my list, David Cronenberg's 'Videodrome', last night. However, I did manage to watch another film instead. I'd always imagined I would enjoy 'The Silence of the Lambs' a lot, it adhering to my personal criteria for “good horror” (i.e. humanity as the monster, blurring genre lines etc.) Yet, upon watching it, I felt as if my own hyping-it-up had caused me to enjoy the actual film a lot less than I'd expected. It was a lot more dated than I was expecting. The creepiness of Buffalo Bill seemed pantomime. And Hannibal Lecter himself, so iconic a character, bore no shocks to me as I already knew the character through countless pop-culture references and parodies. But I wondered how I would have viewed the film had I not known of its existence or reputation before-hand. In other words, how damaging is hype to film?

Before watching most films, I tend to avoid not just spoilers but reviews, praise and criticism altogether. Part of the joy of watching a film is being able to craft one's own personal response to it. Whether its well or poorly made, the real verdict happens in the eyes of the viewer as an individual. While this means prior knowledge of criticism shouldn't really matter (if its about personal response), it can still heavily impact one's personal viewing. The parts that a critic flag up become the parts that you flag up too, whether you intend to or not. I shut myself away from all news about the latest 'Star Wars' film until I had seen it for this reason and, I believe, enjoyed it a lot more as a result.

But what about films like 'The Silence of the Lambs', where their reputation makes it impossible to avoid this crisis? Comparing it to Hitchcock's 'Psycho', another reputable thriller about a psychopath, I found that the hype worked quite differently. Firstly, I felt that 'Silence' is recent enough in cinematic history to warrant a more contemporary criticism, measuring it by more recent standards. Whereas 'Psycho', dating from 1960, has to be reviewed in the context of its time. For 'Psycho', reputation works to rescue it from antiquity, one asks themselves why they bother watching a film from so long ago, and the answer lies in its reputation. At first, 'Silence' seemed too recent to be able to look past its clunkiness. Yet, as I've stated earlier, it seems dated. Perhaps 'Silence' is old enough to be “from another time”, its complicated as it seems to lie on the edge of recent and vintage. One may argue that it is entirely vintage and I would partially agree, were it not for its reputation (which its, ironically, acquired through its age).

However, it isn't as straight-forward as this as sometimes the “vintage” aspect of a film can be one of its highlights to a modern audience. I appreciated the vintage aspects of 'Silence', yet I feel it didn't heighten the affects of the film, whereas the vintage aspects of 'Psycho' do heighten its affects. Ignoring the age of the films though, I much prefer the plot of 'Psycho' to 'Silence'. The latter has far too much melodrama in its premise, the characters are too larger-than-life to be truly terrifying. But 'Psycho' is truly still scary today as an idea, for Norman Bates could be anyone. How many Hannibal Lecters do you know? 'Silence' never bears its normal, socially realistic side, whereas 'Psycho' (despite its artifice and style) still speaks to modern audiences because of its everyday-ness.

Despite this, I still enjoyed 'The Silence of the Lambs'. I thought Jodie Foster's character was wonderful, and her twisted relationship to Lecter both ingenious and intriguing. I just feel that I was let down by its hype. I had already seen bits of Hopkins' performance, so that when I came to see it in the film it had little shock value. Above all I felt that it was let down by my own wanting-to-like-it. The sound of the film ticked so many mental boxes that when I saw it, I could only think of the ones it didn't tick. Though perhaps in years I will come back to the film, remembering my disappointment, and watch it again and then say that I was wrong.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQKs169Sl0I

Calvary (2014, dir. John Michael McDonagh)

    

    This one wasn't on the list, but I was really interested by its premise. I find films (as well as books) that try to reconcile religion with a godless world fascinating, as well as ones that explore religion from an agnostic standpoint. This is why I've included Passolini's (an avowed atheist) “The Gospel According to Matthew” (The Vatican's favourite film) on my list. My interest in this topic was first stirred by the Philip Larkin poem “Church Going” (link below), in which Larkin speculates on the future role of churches in society. The one line of this piece that speaks most plainly to me is, “For, though I've no idea What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth, It pleases me to stand in silence here” I feel as if religion is never really outdated, sort of ironically, when its a part of history. And parts of history, especially the missteps, are always relevant when trying to make progress.

Missteps in history form a large part of the premise of “Calvary”, as a victim of sexual abuse from the church tells an innocent priest in a confessional booth that he is going to kill him next Sunday. The priest, played by Brendan Gleeson, is a man who simply wants to do good for his community, but is frequently challenged and often mocked in return. Gleeson gives a weighty performance as a flawed but noble character, heightened against the elegantly savage Irish landscape. Yet the interplay between these aspects and the oddball, comically absurd characters is jarring. It took me a while to adjust to the style, the off-beat black humour in the dialogue appearing too artificial when juxtaposed with the gritty realism of Gleeson. Its like taking all the gravitas from Johansson's character and her surroundings in “Under the Skin” and sticking them in a Coen brothers rendition of “Father Ted”.

However, while this aspect of the film does come across as clunky, the dialogue still works on its own merits. The absurdity of the characters does make for a dramatically heightened atmosphere, where the plot can get explore its subject matter to a greater extent. Characters have comic depth to them and whether or not you know the outcome of the “who's gonna do it” scenario, you are still drawn to them. A Western aesthetic makes for a tense atmosphere, where notions of plain 'good' and 'bad' are left at the door. This makes the religious aspect slightly easier to deal with, yet its not a wholly original one, it reminds me a lot of Graham Greene's novel, “The Power and the Glory”.

The jump from more artificial to more organic dialogue does sometimes feel tonally inconsistent, with the irritating addition of emotionally manipulative music in some scenes worsening the effect. When one can look past this, there is a wealth of cinematic richness underneath. The black humour always works when there are pauses in between, little awkward glimpses into the abyss, which fit comfortably into the whole crisis of religion in a godless world. This is where the film succeeds, when the human takes centre stage and for this the setting and characters are perfect.

Overall, though, I think the film was much too heavy handed, the argument for Institutionalised Priesthood too simplistic and straight-forward. Its cynicism, portraying the community as bankrupt of any sort of values if it were not for the church (rather than the community's ability to moralise themselves). Without their priest they seem to be a lost flock, which works in everything but the conclusion. This is why the western quality, which evokes this lawlessness, doesn't work in this regard, it feels overly manipulative. However, I think that the moral of “forgiveness” can be salvaged from this. With some slight alterations the film can be rather more about the good of the individual, with religion as a tool, rather than the good of religion, with the individual as a tool. For a moment, I thought this was what the film was really about. And it is, to a certain extent. But some of the phrasings of the narrative hold it back from speaking real truths.

Reminded me also of: Tyrannosaur

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGM5rq_vX4U

Under the Skin (2014, dir. Jonathan Glazer)

     

    This is the only film on my list that I had already seen, it was Katharine's pick. But, after re-watching it, I realised just how much I really do like it. And, despite its minimalism, it felt just as fresh and unnerving as it did the first time round (in fact, maybe even more so). The plot is simple; Scarlett Johansson plays an alien driving around Glasgow in a white van, picking up men and then harvesting them. The simplicity and obscurity of certain elements of the plot (i.e. why is she harvesting men? Who is the motorcyclist that seems to be stalking her?) creates a rorshach effect where much of the meaning is in the hands of the viewer.

Yet its not so obscure as to be completely without subtext, the film is, plainly speaking, presenting humankind to the viewer as alien. Everyday and familiar things; football fans leaving a stadium, trees bending in the wind, a Tommy Cooper routine on television, streets glowing and glistening on a wet night, are presented as otherworldly and bizarre, sometimes beautiful and sometimes threatening. This creates an uncanny atmosphere that gets, as the title suggests, under the skin. It achieves this is several ways; the juxtaposition of the natural and urban scenes (both beautiful albeit in a rough, savage way), Johansson's detached performance (which reminds one of the lead from Repulsion) and the sheer lack of exposition.

There is an uncanniness in Johansson's character which works as a reverse of the human characters and environments. We are drawn to her at the same time as being detached through her blank stare. A moment of doubt occurs for her as she releases one of her victims, a man with a deformed face. Up until then, she approaches her mission as routine, having the upper hand in all her encounters. But at this moment, as she stares at herself in a mirror and then notices a fly trying to escape, its as if its all suddenly clicked, and the terrifying expanse of humanity has actually made an impact upon her, triggering an identity crisis. From then on, her detachment has a meaning and we, the viewer, can truly empathise with her (because she can empathise with us). This culminates in a sublime and horrific final scene which questions the nature of humanity.

I would describe 'Under the Skin' as horror, similarly to 'The Act of Killing'. I feel as if the true job of horror is not to scare but to unsettle, and the terrors should always be human. Humanity is the only thing to really be scared of. This isn't absolute though, there can be good paranormal or monster films. But I feel the truly effective ones are those that affect the viewer outside of the screen. I've compared both 'Under the Skin' and 'The Act of Killing' to 'Repulsion' as a film I am really fond of. To me 'Repulsion' is truly effective as horror because the threat is real. Though I cannot yet tell if I prefer 'Under the Skin' to 'Repulsion'. As I have previously stated, I don't find film to be something that can be put in an ultimate order, but I noticed that I reacted more to 'Under the Skin'. I think this is primarily because of the style of the film, the savage beauty which is lacking in 'Repulsion'. I find the film, in its glacial pace, to be sublime in every aspect, even down to the soundtrack which suits the pictures almost perfectly.

(Another observation I couldn't link into the post: The strangeness of humanity as seen through the eyes of an alien set-up echoes 'Borat', which yields similar results to a completely different effect. I think one can see the absolute difference between genres in these two films and the expectations/reaction of the audience.)

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=io92j2qqEGk

The Act of Killing (2012, dir. Joshua Oppenheimer)

    I wanted to see this film after hearing much appraisal from critics. Also, I noticed Werner Herzog's name attached to it. I found Herzog's documentary work to be while perhaps very smoothly crafted (an arguably bad thing for a documentary to be), very convincing as cinema. It follows the former death squad leaders who carried out mass killings in Indonesia in 1965-6 as they recreate them in a film of their own making, imitating various Hollywood genres. Through impunity, they are never brought to justice for their killings and are even idolised in some instances.

I wanted to say that the film was shocking without being sensational, but I consider the very method of the film-making, in its manipulation of the narrative, to be sensational. This film is rather more an exploration than a meditation. A film that is meditative has less cause to be sensational, and is often a lot less straight forward in its narrative, appearing static. An exploration takes you on a more linear journey which at first would seem crude in the context of the genre. Yet, like Herzog did with “Grizzly Man”, the film is about truths and not facts. The film isn't strictly about the historical killings that lurk in the background, but their psychological fallout for the perpetrators in an society that applauds them rather than condemns them. It takes the viewer on a journey through the making of the killers' film, there is a deliberate movement with a deliberate ending.

But this style of documentary making is effective as a cinematic force, it was “Grizzly Man” that convinced me of this. It brings to mind the question of bias in documentary, though. The film does feel more heavily manipulated to make a straight-forward narrative, which gives the film its shock (and therefore sensation) value. I don't see this as a weakness on the film-maker's part, more so a strength in their ability to create a powerful reflection of the human condition. This bias is different from the Michael Moore type, which is concerned with facts instead of truths and is therefore mere pamphleteering. This legitimises Oppenheimer as a story-teller, whilst also a documentary maker.

There is a theme of remembered histories. How the past is remembered to both the public and individuals. The kitsch, hollow quality of the film they make highlights the falseness of glamorised histories. When they re-enact the killings, they incorporate the glamour of Hollywood film as a form of suppressing their realism. The film they make is a projection of both Anwar (the main character and former death squad leader) and the state's misremembered history and their idolisation of the gangster. Yet, in the end, the misremembered histories are inhuman myths. Anwar's nightmares (of the killings) show his human side, which he suppreses with drugs, alcohol and this myth. There is also an interesting historical and mental feedback in the physical re-enactments by the death squad leaders and then also their own watching back of their scenes.

At the end we are led to believe he finally confronts his killings as a human, his physical retching at the memories being a purely human expression. This is why the ending is bittersweet and, as a result of this, haunting. There is positive resolution in his reconciliation with his past, the humanity of it, yet also the inescapable horror of the past through our own humanity. And we, the viewers are in his position. The horror is safely behind the screen as they make the movie, free for us to gawk at but wholly safe in its distance, the thoughts that we could never be like them. Yet, at the end, that screen is pulled away and what we are left with is a pure human reflection, something uncanny and relatable. We, as humans, are witnessing a human suffering with his past.

If it wasn't a documentary, The Act of Killing would be psychological horror, similar to Polanski's 'Repulsion' in both its humanity and the visual projections of the imagination. Some film-makers would try and make it about redemption which would compromise the horror element. For what it is, though, the film needs to be horrific to retain is effectiveness. Some might call this, as it is a documentary, biased and too vague in its facts and realism. Yet the truths behind the facts, the humanity behind the concrete, is what Oppenheimer is truly capturing.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SD5oMxbMcHM

"Grizzly Man" film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8MjDyfcMmU

Introduction

30 Films in 30 Days

    As of a couple of years ago, I have decided that films cannot be put in a linear order along a single axis of “good” and “bad”. I think that there are so many sides to a film that to compress it down into a number to mark its apparent value is in fact a complete de-valuation altogether. That being said, I think popular criticism and the general terms “good” and “bad”, while inexact, do aid in debate and discourse not just in the world of film, but culture and society altogether. Words by their very nature are inexact, yet they are the key to unlocking and exploring ideas. So, in this sense, I don't think a film can ultimately be reduced to a number it stays as eternally, but for there to be a progression made in society, we can use these imprecise tools in order to explore the film and, as a result, ourselves as human beings.

    
Recently, I have been attempting to compile a list of my favourite films. These aren't films which I consider to be the best (whatever “best” is), but ones which I reacted to the most favourably. What makes me react to a film favourably is something I can't wholly explain. It is different for each film for different reasons. This meant I had plenty of trouble putting the films in a certain order. To remedy this, I went more by feeling than thought, and the result of that is something perhaps less precise but maybe (just maybe) more reflective of myself. Like I have said above, concrete ideas are only there to explore the more abstract ones.

    
Furthermore, it would be more truthful to call the list my “current favourite films”, as they are most likely to change with the acquisition of new cinematic experiences, but I feel like the inclusion of that word would take away some of the gravity of the list. Yet, this point did lead me to think of how many films I hadn't seen. Or, more significantly, ones I feel like I should have seen. For example it made me realise I hadn't seen anything by the likes of Kurosawa or Orson Welles. I hadn't seen much Hitchcock or Fellini either. And whilst being one of my favourite directors, there was still so much Mike Leigh I hadn't gotten round to watching.

    
This gave me an idea. I thought that I should make myself watch a collection of these films. Not all of them, that list would go on forever, but a diverse cross-section of the film-o-sphere I hadn't previously ventured into. I had kept saying to myself about various films, “I will watch this sometime soon”, and then never quite got to that “sometime”. I thought that while University work is at a lull, I could fill the blank spaces in my evenings with film watching. Therefore I have compiled a list, with the help of my girlfriend, of 30 films that I wish to watch over, roughly, the next 30 days. I say “roughly” as some days I won't be able to watch a film, but whenever I get a chance to, I will continue with the list.

    
The aim of this project is to expand my film-consciousness, to achieve a greater awareness of the range of films there are. Also, I wish to write about my thoughts on the films through this blog (perhaps continuing it afterwards and including books as well). Through this project, I wish to turn my film-viewing into something productive, so as to not fall out of the habit of writing (something I enjoy doing and need an excuse to do more often). I wouldn't regard these posts as “reviews” but rather more reflections. There's an element of self-discovery in the exercise, in my own choice of films for the list and then in my responses to them. I feel that after forcing myself to watch these films and then write about them I will understand not just the medium better but my own relationship to it, what I enjoy about it and why it is so mesmerising.

Here's the list (for note; they alternate between my pick's and my girlfriend's):

The Act of Killing (2013, Joshua Oppenheimer)

Under The Skin (2013, Jonathan Glazer)

Videodrome (1983, David Cronenberg)

Rosemary's Baby (1968, Roman Polanski)

A Matter of Life and Death (1946, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger)

London Road (2015, Rufus Norris)

The Devils (1971, Ken Russell)

The History Boys (2006, Nicholas Hytner)

Fantastic Planet (1973, Rene Laloux)

Frank (2014, Lenny Abrahamson)

Seven Samurai (1954, Akira Kurosawa)

Big Hero 6 (2014, Don Hall and Chris Williams)

The Gospel According to Matthew (1967, Pier Paolo Pasolini)

Stranger by the Lake (2014, Alan Guiraudie)

Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949, Robert Hamer)

Marie Antoinette (2006, Sofia Coppola)

The Bicycle Thief (1948, Vittorio De Sica)

Midnight in Paris (2011, Woody Allen)

8 ½ (1963, Frederico Fellini)

Citizen Kane (1942, Orson Welles)

Barry Lyndon (1975, Stanley Kubrick)

The Double (2013, Richard Ayoade)

Breathless (1960, Jean-Luc Godard)

Pride (2014, Matthew Warchus)

Apocalypse Now (1979, Francis Ford Coppola)

Inherent Vice (2015, Paul Thomas Anderson)

The Long Good Friday (1981, John Mackenzie)

We are the Best (2014, Lukas Moodysson)

The Innocents (1961, Jack Clayton)

Magic in the Moonlight (2014, Woody Allen)