Calm With Horses Cert: 15 / 100 mins / Dir. Nick Rowland / Trailer
A few words then, on Nick Rowland's impressive feature debut, Calm With Horses. Adapted for the screen by his regular collaborator Joe Murtagh from Colin Barrett's short story of the same name, it's a tale set in present-day rural Ireland, as drug dealer Dymphna Devers (Barry Keoghan) rises through the ranks of his appalling criminal family with the aid of his enforcer and ex-boxer, Arm (Cosmo Jarvis). Arm has drifted into this life through a series of poor choices rather than malice, and struggles to reconcile his 'duties' under Dymphna with the person he'd rather be. Keeping a watchful, if disapproving, eye over this is Arm's ex-partner Ursula (Niamh Algar), struggling to raise their son Jack. When Ursula raises the prospect of her moving to Cork with Jack, things come to a head, not least because the Devers clan want to claim Arm as one of their own...
Jarvis is spellbinding in the central role; the brute-strength of his physical character is a given, but there's also innocence without gullibility, sensititvity without weakness and a sense of being lost but without hopelessness. Algar is a fantastic prompt and foil for this as Ursula, pushing Arm forward and making him challenge himself rather than just laying down the law in a more linear sense, while also holding enough back to be a fully-fledged character in her own right. Keoghan grows apace, happy to play crucial support while filling out his own part more quietly.
The story is intricate yet straightforward. Meticulously structured, the film fires toward its inevitable (yet delicately handled) conclusion without telegraph or cliché. This also features the most affecting car chase sequence in living memory, purely because of how stripped-down it is.
Aided by Benjamin John Power's hypnotic score, cinematographer Piers McGrail manages to make even the most breathtaking landscape a gorgeously bleak postcard of desolation and spiritual abandonment. This film plays like Twin Town on Craggy Island but with none of the inherent silliness of either, just a bleakly cathartic rage.
A quietly powerful treatise on bravado, revenge and misguided loyalty, Calm With Horses is one of the most beautiful things I never need to see again.
Well, I mean according to IMDB he is. The Wookieepedia entry backs this up, but if you look at the Wook-page for 'Wobani prisoner' then that dude is clearly played by a different actor, even though the same article also references Ned Dennehy by name. I suspect Ned's original performance was lost in the reshoots, as happened with that of Paul Putner (Paul's in the Rogue One Visual Dictionary, that shit counts).
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.
Every so often, a film comes along which is in equal parts compelling and harrowing, which enthralls you utterly but also beats you into submission. By no means a film which you'll want to watch on a weekly basis, but a one which will stay with you and that you know will require another viewing. When you've got the strength. Requiem For A Dream is one of those films, as is Harry Brown. This year, it's '71.
The story of a young relatively inexperienced British soldier, Gary Hook, deployed to Belfast in 1971, when violent tensions between Irish unionist and nationalist factions were at a critical head. Separated from his unit on a routine callout, Hook finds himself seemingly abandoned in the heartland of an area which doesn't take kindly to the sight of a British army uniform, and it will take all of his resources just to stay alive…
Actually, I've made that sound far more Hollywood than it actually is. Despite Jack O'Connell clearly being the film's protagonist, the film focuses as much on the events surrounding him as it does his continued survival, and this is a war story without heroes (but plenty of victims - on all sides). I don't pretend to know anything about the troubles, and if anything the film only makes the situation clearer by illustrating that it's much more complicated than having two sides at each other's throats. While I'm sure there'll be differing opinions on this, the film I saw tells its story without taking sides, instead focusing on the bleakness of the whole situation.
That's not to say the war is depicted as pointless, but the end-goal of the conflict certainly seems as unreachable as any happy ending would be. '71 is one of the few films I've seen where the use of handheld cameras feels like a natural choice, as it only intensifies the sense of general noise, confusion and desperation. The desolate streets, pubs and houses*1 are filmed with a yellowing wash which evokes the past without nostalgia, and the film's wardrobe and makeup departments capture the era perfectly without going full Life On Mars*2. The only thing which struck me as odd was the lack of bite in the gunfire sound effects (of which there are plenty), considering how many of them occur in 'close quarters'. This could be an artistic choice to help the audience focus on the narrative, or to demonstrate how desensitised the characters are to the sound of gunfire, but the guns then become one of the least provocative aspects in the film. Like I said, odd.
In terms of performance, everyone brings their A-game here, with Jack O'Connell leading as only he can, bringing a sort of hardened-naivety to his role. It's essential that the audience is rooting for Hook, but not to the point where the other characters don't matter, and the cast pull this off fantastically under Yann Demange's direction. As great as he is in this, I think O'Connell's best work is still to come, and I look forward to seeing which roles he chooses after films like '71 and Starred Up. Also singling themselves out for praise among the ensemble are Corey McKinley as the funniest, sweariest 12 yr old loyalist you'll see on film this year (probably ever), and Barry Keoghan as the emotionally turbulent, but blank-faced nationalist-in-training, Sean. Both actors bring an intensity to their roles which, like O'Connell's, are bolstered by a level of innocence which the older members of the cast don't have at their disposal.
While I can't personally vouch for the historical detail or thematic accuracy of '71, the film moved me like few others have done recently, and has a violent urgency which demands a viewer's attention without being needlessly provocative. While I'd recommend the film to anyone, I know that it's not intended to be universally loved, even though it asks its questions without judging or moralising.
'71 is a bleak powerhouse of a film. Film-of-the-year material, and I don't say that lightly.
Yes. Nails it in one.
I did. Mostly gasping and crying, to be fair.
From where I'm sitting, undoubtedly.
The cinema release for this film is small, but catch it as and where you can.
I won't, largely because some people will find it too much, and for various reasons.
I will.
There isn't. Which is okay as despite the amount of screaming in the film, it would feel a little out of place.
In the bit where Private Hook is hiding in the outside toilet for several hours to evade being shot, how come none of the householders needed the loo? There's washing on the line in the yard remember, so people are living at the house, and toilet paper on the holder so the alfresco cubicle is in use.
*1 If the film's Wiki page is anything to go by, the streets used in the film are in Blackburn rather than Belfast. And I don't know if it's commendable that the production crew didn't want to stir tensions in Belfast by re-creating traumatic times-past, or more worrying that the streets of Blackburn are so easily transformable into a 20th century war-zone.
*2 Not that I'm slagging off Life On Mars, but if the TV series' "do you remember" rhetoric of flared trousers and wide-collar shirts is akin to the act of Peter Kay, then '71 is closer to the tone of Doug Stanhope or Jerry Sadowitz.
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.
Calvary Cert: 15 / 101 mins / Dir. John Michael McDonagh
Despite the rave reviews it's getting from pretty much everywhere, I have to say that I found John Michael McDonagh's Calvary to be a real mixed bag; and not necessarily in a good way. In the opening act, at least, there's a large proportion of incredibly funny, incredibly deadpan comedy, delivered with absolute perfection by Brendan Gleeson and the supporting cast. Gleeson's Father James Lavelle, after being issued a death-threat in a confessional, has just seven days to 'put his house in order', and we meet the eccentric collection of parishioners he has to deal with on a daily basis.
But as the week goes on and we spend more screen-time in each day, the sense of unease grows as the gentle mockery of Father James and the Catholic Church in general turns to outright malice. Throughout this, James knows who his would-be assassin is, discussing the matter with his bishop*1 but not alluding the identity to the audience. Initially a sort of guessing game, the deeper the story goes, the more irrelevant this macguffin becomes, as the real issue is the smouldering resentment of the village that James calls his home.
The second and third acts also have humour, but it's more and more sparse, and feels less appropriate to laugh at, the closer to "Sunday week" we get. Measured, ponderous and increasingly claustrophobic, the powerful but reserved performances from the cast are quite outstanding, as the characters become more unlikeable the more they're shown. Calvary's script is very self aware, both in a screen-sense, and in capturing the harsh realities of the apparent general attitude to the church in the 21st century. It's never out-and-out disrespectful of the organisation, but seems like it's had its fill of undue deference (I can't really comment any more, as I have no personal experience with the Catholic Church or the issues raised in the film. And there are issues). The film becomes horrifically bleak at some points, and again I'm aware that this is completely intentional. Calvary is frequently hard work, and I'm afraid only you can decide if it's worth that.
As much as I admire what the film sets out to do (and undoubtedly achieves), I'd be hard pushed to say I enjoyed it. Then again, I'm not entirely sure I was supposed to. A film about faith, forgiveness and redemption, and not only in a religious sense, Calvary shows us Craggy Island filtered through the lens of bitterness, regret, yet ultimately tranquility.
Don't hate the game, hate the players.
Yep.
I kinda did, yes.
Almost certainly.
You'll lose nothing by watching this at home.
No.
I don't think I've got the strength to.
There isn't.
Is this film a sign that Chris O'Dowd can act when he puts his mind to it? Even if he is still just playing Chris O'Down in this?
*1 I assume it's a bishop. Whatever, it's his 'boss'. Look, I don't know how the church works; I have Father Ted to go off, and that's it.
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.
A few words then, on Nick Rowland's impressive feature debut, Calm With Horses. Adapted for the screen by his regular collaborator Joe Murtagh from Colin Barrett's short story of the same name, it's a tale set in present-day rural Ireland, as drug dealer Dymphna Devers (Barry Keoghan) rises through the ranks of his appalling criminal family with the aid of his enforcer and ex-boxer, Arm (Cosmo Jarvis). Arm has drifted into this life through a series of poor choices rather than malice, and struggles to reconcile his 'duties' under Dymphna with the person he'd rather be. Keeping a watchful, if disapproving, eye over this is Arm's ex-partner Ursula (Niamh Algar), struggling to raise their son Jack. When Ursula raises the prospect of her moving to Cork with Jack, things come to a head, not least because the Devers clan want to claim Arm as one of their own...
