The end of March sees me happy to have my doubt quashed, once again*1. It was all the way back in the emotional vacuum of January that I sat, stone-faced, through the trailer for Isle of Dogs, wondering why I wasn't sharing the excitement of everybody else. Obviously, my reaction wasn't at the same level of distaste I reserve for the likes of F*fty Sh*des, so when the opportunity arose for a preview screening of Wes Anderson's animated latest, the least I could do was give it a go.
And y'know what? They're right.
Isle Of Dogs is the most meticulously beautiful film you'll see this year.
Following a young boy in Japan who goes to rescue his guardian best friend Spots from a quarantined island, this is a near-future, metaphorical folk-tale presented as stop-motion puppetry, and voiced by more seasoned performers than you can throw an Equity-card at*2.
Although the film is dialogue-heavy in its execution, the occasional stretch in untranslated (and unsubtitled) Japanese means that this is primarily visual storytelling all round. Even in its heavily stylised form, the narrative is never unclear to the audience*3, and it's the visual element where the director's strength lies. Animated with such passion, precision and the unerring cinematography of Tristan Oliver, Isle of Dogs is almost hypnotic to watch. The formal structured storytelling, complete with chapter-cards, intercutting prop-labels, and a terse, sporadic narration makes this feel like Kill Bill-era Tarantino, particularly with its Japanese ties.
Although for all this, I feel the same (presumably deliberate) emotional disconnect that I did with The Grand Budapest Hotel, where Anderson seems to make the telling of the story more important than the story itself. And as great as the actors and expressive as the modelling are, I still think that the voice-cast don't feel like the dogs they're portraying*4.
What shines through most of all though, is that Wes Anderson makes animated movies in the same way he approaches live-action - with absolute, unremitting theatricality...
For the committed cinephile, this will be a buy-er.
Best, no - highlight, yes.
Unlikely, unless you really detest it.
There isn't.
Level 2: This film has the voice of F. Murray Abraham in it, and he was in that Inside Llewyn Davis along with Oscar 'Dameron' Isaac and Adam 'Ren' Driver.
*1 Which is nice because as I write this, I have yet to see Pacific Rim: Uprising, a movie which has caused me to take out a second mortgage to book enough storage-space for the reservations I have about it... [ BACK ]
*2 And yet, not a single level-1 Star Wars connection. Ridiculous, I know. [ BACK ]
*3 And bear in mind that certain other movies at the moment feature a cast who constantly explain everything, while the plot details still remain disconcertingly vague. [ BACK ]
*4 With the exception of Gondo, brought to life by Harvey Keitel, whose canine avatar looks as tired and fleabitten as the actor's vocal cords sound... [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
The great thing about viewing some films again (first review here)is that you can take your mind off the plot and just enjoy the performances. In this respect, The Grand Budapest Hotel will never get old. Fiennes' delivery and comic-timing is masterful, and a rewatch highlights the rest of the cast's skill in complementing this. That's not to say that the film belongs to Fiennes alone, but he's certainly in the spotlight. Filtered through so many narrative viewpoints that you're not expected to buy into the reality (or otherwise) of the story, the film has a unique atmosphere and charm, and is the result of the cast and crew all pulling uniformly in the same direction. Notably, Wes Anderson's direction.
The aspect-ratio switching and shot-framing are as much a part of the film as the cast and story, and both are far more apparent watching the film a second time (although I think it may be a little jarring watching for the first time on your TV). While it could certainly be argued that The Grand Budapest Hotel is self-indulgent, when the end product is this delicate it's entirely forgivable.
What struck me as odd is that in a film as meticulously framed as this, I spotted a low-level continuity error. The scene with Agatha and Zero in her bedroom/sleeping-quarters features two camera-shots, one of which has the strap of her nightdress on her shoulder, the other has it down on her arm. the only reason I noticed is because of the frequent switching between the two (and the point in the scene in which she adjusts it so that it's 'up', presumably for the next take). It's absolutely minor-league in terms of film-goofs, but all the more notable because of the film it's in. Unless it's deliberate, of course, right Wes?
That one is, yeah.
I did.
It does.
You won't lose the comedy by watching this at home, but the aspect ratio switches will work better in the cinema.
Nah.
Yes.
No.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Like a dream being recounted by someone who's halfway through one drink too many, Wes Anderson's latest caper is preposterous in its set-pieces, sketchy in its detail, yet completely enthralling as his audience marvels at the story unfolding from his mind. The story we see on-screen is nested multiple times, told by an older version of the young lobby-boy we see in the trailer, to a young writer whose older-self*1 narrates the segments which cut back to him, which in turn is a book being read by a girl we see in the opening shots. This almost generational passing-down of the events means you forgive the outlandishness of the details and just enjoy ride. And what a ride.
The film's not quite as madcap as the trailer would suggest, at least not in its pacing, but it's every bit as eccentric. Many of the film's A-List names appear as short cameos, but are also superbly dialled-down*2, given their limited screen-time. Deadpan is the order of the day, here. The real plate-spinning is done by Ralph Fiennes and Tony Revolori as hotel concierge Gustave H and his lobby-boy, Zero Moustafa, respectively. Both actors hold the madness together perfectly, and they clearly had the time of their lives doing so. The lighting and photography directors complement Anderson's vision perfectly, creating a sort of live-action cartoon (but in a good way. Not like The Expendables). One of my favourite features was that most of the film is presented in 3:4 aspect ratio, a fact that would normally bug the hell out of me, but that sits perfectly in this film.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is, as you can imagine, a little on the self-indulgent side, but when a film's this much fun that's entirely forgivable. For all of his massive acting range, this was the role that Fiennes was born to play. Quite, quite marvellous.
The film is more restrained in its structure, but that's what you're getting, yes.
Yes.
…yes. I think.
If you're going to see it, see it at the flicks.
I won't.
I will. It'll either be in the next few days, or some unspecified point in the future. I haven't decided yet.
There isn't.
Does this mean I can go back and check out Anderson's other work now? This has been the only one that really appealed...
*1 Some characters appear as their older and younger selves, bearing little or no resemblance to each other. In most films this would annoy the hell out of me; in this one, I didn't mind it for a second.
*2 Well, as dialled-down as you're going to get in this film.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Inside Llewyn Davis (second-pass)
Cert: 15 / 105 mins / Dir. Joel Coen & Ethan Coen
So after what probably seemed like a lukewarm review, I decided to watch Inside Llewyn Davis again before it gets relegated to afternoon showings next week. The good news is, it's just as mesmerising the second time around (perhaps more so, as the spiralling narrative of the film feels even more like a recurring dream). The rhythms of Llewyn's opportunity, ineptitude and regret are almost soporific, in the much same way that Davis himself finds it impossible to break the cycle of his behaviour. Oddly, the inevitability of his failures remains consistent however many times you watch the film. C'est la vie.
If there's a downside, it's that I didn't really gain that much from watching the film again; I'd hoped that I could lay the plot on the back seat and focus more on everything else, but it's either everything I caught last week, or so far beyond me that I'm never going to get it (the more likely option). It's not that the film is mysterious, more that it's magnificently subtle. That said, I had more fun with the secondary characters this time around, especially knowing in advance how they work in isolation of one another.
I was initially unsure about the opening and closing motifs, and having watched the film again am now even moreso. It's not something I'll go into here, but if you want to get symbolic, come and have a chinwag over at the Facebook page. I look forward to you bending my brain...
Inside Llewyn Davis is a fiendishly interesting film, although while there's plenty for me to like, I can't bring myself to outright love it. I probably don't need to see this again for some time now, and when I do return, it'll be largely for the soundtrack. It's a film I'd recommend, but for when you're in a contemplative mood.
And yes, that does sound massively self-indulgent. It's a Coen Bros film, after all ;)
Yeah.
As much as I was ever going to, yes.
Now, I think it probably does.
It's a night in with a bottle of red.
No.
Yeah.
No.
So. Coen Bros. Where's a good place to start?
Haven't been able to latch onto anything I loved. I didn't like True Grit, but I thought No Country… was okay (just not 'my thing'). A couple of other films of theirs I've tried and failed with, but am willing to have another go. So, where do I start?
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
I won't lie to you, the first time I saw the trailer for Inside Llewyn Davis was with Mrs Blackout, and afterward we looked at each other and I mouthed "what?". This happens more often than is good for anyone, but it's rare that repeat viewings of a trailer actually sell me a film. Nonetheless, by the time today's showing rolled around, I was quite looking forward to it, not least because I'd also heard an interview with the directorial brothers on 5Live, laying the pitch for the narrative and the themes, rather than just the setting. Oh yeah, The Themes. This film has The Themes. It doesn't beat you over the head with them per se, but you should be prepared to understand that you're seeing Llewyn Davis' version of events*1, not that you'll see any other.
The film's soundtrack and Oscar Isaac (responsible for a large percentage of that soundtrack) do the heavy lifting, thematically speaking. Most of the other characters are totems of the various facets of Davis' personality, since we only see them from his point of view, and they very rarely interact with one another. The narrative is needfully meandering, as again, it's essentially Davis telling the story, and it reflects his haphazard lifestyle.
Bruno Delbonnel's soft-focused camera lends the film a dream-like quality, tranquil and disconnected even in its more emotionally traumatic moments. Quiet, introspective and borderline hypnotic, I think this is how I'm supposed to feel about all Coen Bros films. I think I understood it*2; I think I enjoyed it. But I've been wrong on both counts in the past, so let's chalk it up quietly as a success*3.
Inside Llewyn Davis is as centered and driving as its eponymous character, and is a better film for it. I'm fairly confident I'll get more out of it on repeat viewings, but I'm happy to let it bed in for a while, first.
Yeah, mostly.
…I think I did.
Probably. Maybe. I don't really know.
It's quite an 'intimate' film, so it wouldn't hurt to watch it at home.
Nah.
I will.
There isn't.
Is F. Murray Abraham just, like, not ageing or something?
*1 You knew that anyway from the title though, right? Yeah. Good.
*2 Not withstanding the cinematic devices used to tell the story, I know nothing about 1960's folk music, other than the fact that there are 'real world' references in here that I didn't fully get; I just knew they were there.
*3 Me enjoying a Coen Bros film, I mean. Not the film. The film's a success irrespective of how much I get it, I know that much.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
