Still ill and utterly fed up of being so, still watching films. Not necessarily good films, but watching them nonetheless.
Volcano (1997)An unsuspected magma pocket saves Los Angeles from decades of racial tension. A full-on 1990s disaster movie replete with slow-motion jumping, slow-motion erupting, and slow-motion emerging from the ruins of destroyed buildings covered in debris. Anne Heche is there to prove the script-writers consulted a geologist and to ensure you know that they did. Don Cheadle does some fine talking over the phone while sitting in a chair. The racism side plot is so clunky it’s beyond awful.
Diamonds Are Forever (1971) - Rewatch
Bond is contractually obliged to see this one through, so he phones it in. This is the one where they’ve finally managed to remove anything that was new or interesting from the carcass of Ian Fleming and we’re stuck with the ridiculousness and excess of a plot involving Las Vegas excess, over-cologned campy assassins, I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-Howard-Hughes and doppelcats. At least there wasn’t an invisible car. Given all of that it's oddly flat and low-key. A swansong played on a swanee whistle.
The Fog (1980)Maritime vengeance ruins a small town’s centenary celebrations. The lonely melancholy of radio stations at night broadcasting to ships at sea and foghorns sounding along a coastline, is rudely interrupted by a meteorological horror for introverts. By day fresh, clear Pacific breezes encourage people into isolation in lighthouses and weather stations. At night, penetrating clouds of fear force them together for protection as they recoil from their pasts and the shadows that lurk there. Too real.
Trapper County War (1989)A hillbilly grudge in the 1980s can only be settled in one way. Shooting people in slow-motion. Starting out with some good sexual tension and simmering jealousy, this erupts into the usual family gang riding around in trucks with guns attempting to murder their aggression away. For that First Blood touch, there’s a shack-dwelling veteran who’s horded bazookas and mines to create explosions for the finale. Promising more at the start, it ends up exactly as you’d expect at the end. And a criminal waste of a spike pit.
Omicidio a Luci Blu (1991) aka Homicide in a Blue LightA killer attempts to be the real rain that sweeps the scum off the Italian-speaking New York streets. Somewhere between a macho procedural and a sexually-charged drama, this exists largely to watch its lead actress undressing or titillating her clients. Saturated in nighttime neon and puddles, it’s rarely filmed in a blue light, though it does have interesting visual touches. These include some curious computer-generated transitions between scenes. Conventional, paternalistic and almost completely unstimulating.
Guardians of the Galaxy 2 (2017)Superpowers, lasers, godhood, guns, knowing jokes, bombs, glamour villains, etc. The usual routine. The usual plot. The usual jokes. This is not a film to watch for subtly, novelty, serenity or self-awareness. Instead, hookup your dopamine synapses, light a joint and pig out for that satisfying full feeling. Wallow in repetitive stupor with a smile. A comfort blanket for teenagers and those reluctant not to be teenagers any more. A film that sucks the vim from youth.
Suicide Squad (2016)Another team of reprobates with skills take on another being burdened with superhuman abilities and a grudge against humanity. All that’s changed are the clothes. Underneath it’s the same power fantasy for an impotent audience made to take their dollars and to maintain their impotence. This gives nothing. No insight, no development, no message. It makes no sense. In this instance, style, verve, panache and humour are also absent. It’s empty cinematic calories being added directly to your optic nerve.
You Were Never Really Here (2017)Joaquin Phoenix is traumatically, quietly raging on the inside. The plot involving the sexual interests of powerful men, is secondary to the picture Lynne Ramsay is painting of extreme trauma from the inside of a victim’s head. Nearly all the violence is skipped. Forgotten instantly by a damaged mind as he roves hallways with a hammer, seen only by CCTV. The silence surrounding the violent acts past, present and imagined is only occasionally pierced by a cry. There are no tears, only wide eyes that see only what’s being remembered. Troubling and tough.
Mechanic: Resurrection (2016)Jason Statham proves his adeptness at everything apart from avoiding large cattle prods. Being a fan of on screen competence this is quite the draw - however the suspension of disbelief required at every single stage of this film is far beyond my abilities. Given how good he is at everything, I’m unsure why he gave up on his first attack on the boat. And where does he get all of his amazing toys? Plain ridiculous if well shot and paced. Also an overdue shout out for the joys of communist architecture.
Shorts of the Week1/57: Versuch mit synthetischem Ton (1957) aka 1/57: Experiment with Synthetic Sound (Test)Something or someone out there is trying to communicate with us. Perhaps it’s the director. Hard, grey noise scraped across a malfunctioning condenser microphone, transmitted on a narrow frequency band over a distance of several thousand miles of mixed weather conditions. Alien cacti, blurred scissors and a wall. There’s a message here and Kurt Kren does a fantastic job of making it utterly alien. This summons memories of the Cold War. Secrets, distance and urgency grasped from the airwaves.
LinkColour Rhythm (1942)Rhythm and hues. Abstract dancing shapes we’re instructed to watch without a musical soundtrack - the colours and shapes create their own rhythm. A boy is it colourful. Complex abstractions do indeed move and oscillate to an unheard beat, this truly is a musical composition in colour. Oskar Fischinger’s geometrical composition is exact, complex and fast. Each frame contains such a depth of detail that work to make it all dance so effortlessly is daunting. Exquisite.
LinkCanada Vignettes: The Egg (1979)An egg fears for its structural integrity. What promises to be a minor piece of claymation, suddenly becomes something much stronger with an unexpected zoom out in the final shot. You’d expect a joke about the nature of an egg and what it is to become. Instead we get a more profound comment on the lengths we will go to in order to preserve the status quo and the fear we have of change. It manages to say more in its minute of runtime than most films say in a couple of hours. Scaffolding and eggs as metaphors for a lifetime.
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