The boy, it appears, does have patience after all. After missing its appearance at the 2015 LFF and catching it on VOD instead, I've finally managed to see the Star Wars documentary Elstree 1976 in a cinema as part of its nationwide screening-tour, which included a Q&A session with the director Jon Spira, composer Jamie Hyatt and the hero of the battle of Yavin, John Chapman.
There's not actually too much more to add to my first review of the film; it's an intimate, charming and utterly fascinating look at some of the lesser-known faces of 1977's A New Hope, presented in the form of intercut interviews with former cantina aliens, X-Wing pilots, stormtroopers and more. I'd previously mused that a film this niche would perhaps go right over the heads of a 'civilian' audience, but that's exactly who was present at Oxford's Ultimate Picture Palace this evening. Unlike the recent Gary Numan doc, these weren't particularly fervent Star Wars fans, or even documentary fans, just a selection of punters curious enough to want to look through the window into another world, and this film held their attention throughout, even when I could sense that they were a little lost by the minutiae of the GFFA. It was interesting to see which aspects of the cast's reminiscences resonated with them, as well as the parts which were perhaps too inaccessible (they seemed to find Boba Fett actor Jeremy Bulloch's description of all the pens he carries for signing different items highly amusing, for some reason. Even after the man tells the tale of the time his silver marker leaked all over a poster which had already been signed by many other performers. I was wincing through that section (as was Jeremy, recalling it), but presumably this doesn't sound like a big deal to the The Normies?).
A thing which did surface more the second time I watched it was the borderline transient nature of the convention/autograph circuit, which was underlined by John Chapman speaking afterwards. Elstree 1976 is already a sincere study of the scene, but it's definitely not a 'look at what these movie extras are doing these days'. It's more look at what they were doing then, a snapshot taken when the documentary was made. Several of its stars have since moved away from the circuit, having either scratched that itch or just gotten tired of the hierarchical politics surrounding the whole thing. The film makes no judgement of either the actors, nor the fans who adore them, but nor does it take issue with them stepping back into the relative obscurity of regular life. This is a film about ordinary people that celebrates their ordinariness.
If you like old-school Star Wars, you'll enjoy Elstree 1976. Otherwise you're probably going to be like the couple sat behind me who didn't appear to know what the film was about (at all) before it started, despite being interested enough to have bought tickets to watch it. Which I suppose is fair enough if you're the proprietor of a cinema...
The decent bonus-documentaries from the old days which actually used to impart something about the production of a film, rather than those ones you get now which are basically a showreel of the cast and crew all saying how wonderful it is to be working with each other and little else.
Meow, I know.
Well, despite initially missing this at the 2015 London Film Festival, I've finally got to do just that. So for me, yes.
In the director's case, we'll wait and see.
He freely admitted in the Q&A that this level of intricate fandom wouldn't really work with any other series or franchise, so I shall watch Jon's career with great interest.
Nope.
There isn't.
Mind, who's the performer inside the Stormtrooper suit who goes tumbling off the Death Star gantry where the Wilhelm is used? That's what I want to know…
Level 1: The entire featured cast was in Star Wars.
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.
Yeah, a documentary about a band's drunken exploits twenty years ago was the most experimental film I watched that day. I'm the guy who goes to Leicester Square during the opening weekend of the London Film Festival and sees regular screenings of general release films. Look, Cineworld weren't showing any of the LFF entries that day, and I've got that card for a reason, y'know…
Anyway. I'd almost (almost) forgotten how gloriously narcissistic the Gallagher brothers were (are). Mat Whitecross' retrospective documentary is an extensive wading through the Oasis video and audio archives running from their pre-formation days when Noel was a mere roadie for the Inspiral Carpets, up to their near-legendary 1996 gigs at Knebworth. With voice-over interviews from the band and close associates, the film tells a chaotic story seamlessly, without external narration; everything here is down to trust in the film-maker, reminiscences and interpretations, and fantastic (plus exhaustive) editing.
On the next tier down from (let's be fair) fanboy treasure-troving, the film shows a pair of young men trying to express anger and frustration through indie-music (albeit with dirty production values), when most kids would choose metal as their social weapon-of-choice. Their backup plan of booze and drugs seems pretty universal, though. The story of Oasis' early days exists in a unique time. Before the age where the minutiae of self-shot-video and information could be widely shared online, but when analogue-tech was commonplace enough that plenty of behind-the-scenes footage was recorded (and not by everyone in the room, as it is now). And it was a time when new music still excited me, unlike the jaded, middle-aged film-bore I've become*1. The music in Supersonic gave me goosebumps, and it's not like I don't listen to the first two Oasis albums any more…
Whitecross' film is candid, self-effacing and, in places, blisteringly funny (I haven't heard a cinema audience guffaw this much since Deadpool). At times there's even a dusting of humility in there, although that never lasts for long, obviously. Best line is awarded to Noel, with "What can I say, y'know? I'm a bit of a cunt."
If you like Oasis, you'll love Supersonic.
If you don't like Oasis, you'll despise Supersonic.
The film shows the band at their very best and very worst, which is quite often the same thing…
Oasis, really.
Well the problem (if you see it as a problem (and, to be fair, I do)) is that of the pre-digital era, the majority of archive-footage is from VHS or camcorder tapes, so looks like shit. That particular aspect of the film will work much better in your living room.
Although if you're the two patrons in the row behind me who chattered and sang along for the whole movie, you could just pretend the cinema is your living room, anyway…
Yes.
I'm ashamed to tell you that I can't really say, as I haven't seen enough of Mat Whitecross' work to know.
Nope.
There isn't.
Level 2: Director Mat Whitecross was the man behind 2010's Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll, starring Andy 'Snoke' Serkis.
*1 Although to be fair, I get equally - if not more - excited by films, now. And I intake way more new movies (and in more genres) than I did new albums, back in the day. What I'm trying to say is that present-day me is fantastic and past-me was a bit of a dick. Future-me's up his own arse, though…
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.
Insert the obligatory ramble here about me not knowing how to adequately review documentaries, even though I mention that every time before I review a documentary and have now done so enough that it's no longer true. Steve Read and Rob Alexander began shooting a film in 2012 about the iconic musician Gary Numan, as he relocated to Los Angeles and around the production and release of the album Splinter. There was a special screening of it at my nearest independent cinema*1. And it is good.
I say this not as a particular fan of Numan's*2, it's more that Android In La La Land is a nicely-structured documentary. Although it's not a beginner's guide to his work, there's no price-of-entry when it comes to prior knowledge of Gary's work. Although because the events in the film are from four years ago, I don't think there'll be too much here that the hardcore fanbase aren't already aware of anyway. Still, horse's mouth, and that.
The most notable thing about the film is how relaxed and open Numan and his family are with the camera. There's an instant level of trust as Gary talks candidly about his Aspergers and the depression which resulted from years of bad-press. But the film observes these without playing them up or down. This is about Gary the person, not Gary the case-study, and director/producers Read and Alexander have a knack for bringing truth and warmth out of an industry where they're in short supply.
The screening was followed by a live Q&A by one of the film's directors, Steve Read. A very nice touch with a very focused and eloquent man, but the problem arises that if your documentary has done its job (and this one has) then there are relatively few questions to be asked (other than the technical ones which were on the tip of my tongue, but were raised by other members of the audience: around 500 hours of footage and one camera with two lenses). Under the normal run of things, this wouldn't be ideal for engaging the rest of the attendees. But as even Steve noted, the audience was made up of people who were either a) Gary Numan geeks, b) film-making geeks, or c) a&b, so it panned out largely satisfactorily, I think.
A well-made film about a fascinating and funny man, Android In La La Land is currently on a tour of the UK with Q&A sessions, with limited regular screenings elsewhere.
Hardcore fans of Gary Numan will either be more gushing or more critical, I'm not sure which.
Well, music documentaries. To be fair.
If you get the chance, yes.
The film is an independent production which can use all the support you can give it.
It does.
I haven't seen the directors' other features, so can't really say.
It's a great piece of film-making though.
Nope.
Nope.
Level 3: Mr Gary Numan featured in an episode of The Mighty Boosh alongside series regular Rich Fulcher, who's due to appear in the upcoming movie Abruptio starring James 'Captain Argyus' Marsters.
*1 Which started late. Yeah, again. Seriously, I love that this independent cinema exists and I support them where I can (given that it's actually easier and cheaper for me to use their counterpart in the capital), but you've got one job, mate: Show the film at the time it says on the ticket. It's not like the buses where you're being held up by previous over-running screenings.
*2 I respect the fuck out of what Numan does, how he does it and how long he's been doing it for. I just don't particularly enjoy it, somehow. And don't give me "that would change if you saw him live", because I did and it didn't. Still enjoyed this film, though.
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.
This just in: Cleaners don't earn as much as financial executives, and if the super-rich were taxed a bit more, that'd probably be very helpful to all of us. There, I've just saved you 99 minutes. Michael Winterbottom and Russell Brand's documentary about the UK's ongoing financial crisis has its heart firmly in the right place, even if its mouth frequently gets in the way of the message.
Filmed primarily in London but occasionally branching out as far as his hometown in Essex, Brand explores the causes behind the current state of the national and global economies, the effect on regular people (ie those who aren't bank executives), and the apparent unwillingness of global governments to fix or even slow down the escalating rate of the crisis.
At just shy of an hour and forty minutes, it's not a smash and grab affair, but neither does it seem to get past the surface of the problem. It's an odd paradox that the film seems to spend far too long complaining about one thing, while at the same time not being able to concentrate on the various facets of that one thing, or indeed propose any workable solutions. The film is never short on facts but carries an equal or greater amount of opinion to go with them, the result being that The Emperor's New Clothes preaches to the choir for the most part.
At best, the film is optimistically non-committal, highlighting the problems we all face without feeding the audience answers or inciting an uprising; at worst, it's wilfully naive and insultingly patronising, like a petulant teenager shouting down the stairs that the world isn't fair while refusing to go out and change it. By the time we bolted on a live Q&A session during which Russell looked incredibly uncomortable*1, and the entire evening's programming beginning 40 (forty) minutes later than advertised*2, I have to admit that I left the cinema faintly more miffed than when I'd arrived. Just not necessarily for the right reasons.
While I didn't always enjoy the tone of The Emperor's New Clothes, an idealistic liberal like me couldn't help but wholeheartedly support its founding ethos. The problem is that the film didn't make me any more determined to change the system or any more outraged at the injustices committed in the name of freedom.
And if your documentary can't win over the people who are already on your side, what's it really for?
Well this is the thing really, isn't it? As a special event-cinema screening, even us Unlimited Cardholders had to pay an uplift fee which isn't the end of the world of course, but can you really rail against capitalism when you're charging people money to watch you doing it? The only people likely to pay to watch this are the ones who are already on-side.
With the best will in the world, this is a TV documentary, shown in a cinema.
For Brand? Not really. As far as Winterbottom goes, I'm afraid I haven't seen enough of his work to know.
Infuriatingly, not well enough.
Nope.
No, then again I didn't expect there to be.
Russell Brand starred in 2010's Get Him To The Greek, as did Rose Byrne; best known, of course, for playing handmaiden Dormé in Attack Of The Clones.
*1 To his credit, the Q&A interviewer did try and bait Brand into his 'don't bother voting' rhetoric, to which he basically rolled his eyes and said "oh, do what you want". I get the distinct impression that Brand's management had reminded him that discouraging the democratic process two weeks before a general election wouldn't have been the best PR move for the film.
*2 …with none of the cinema staff having any idea why the programme wasn't starting as it was a live-feed broadcast to them by Picturehouse. I ended up speaking to people via Twitter in other cinemas who told me they were having the same delay and technical issues. Well done, Picturehouse! That's almost as good as the time your Oxford cinema fucked up the start-time of Driving Miss Daisy, eating directly into the live Q&A afterwards! At least with this one, everyone started later than expected, so the Q&A had no choice but to follow suit. I really hope the revolution is going to be better organised than this...
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.
Eddie Martin's intimate documentary about the rise and fall of the world-champion skateboarders, Ben and Tas Pappas, does little to brighten the day of the audience, but my word it engages them. Featuring the talking-heads of Tas and close friends and colleagues from throughout the brothers' careers, the bulk of the film is constructed from archive footage (something which, in skate culture, there is an abundance of) both on and off the ramps.
The first half of the film concentrates on the boys' skating, depicting it as more of a need than a passion, laying the groundwork for their seemingly inexorable fall (which is glimpsed in the trailer, but that's by no means the worst of it). And just as gravity pulls a skater back onto the ramp, when they fall, they fall hard. What shocked me most was that I was previously unaware of these (relatively recent) events. This can be partially explained by me not being part of the skating scene in any way, but even then I'd imagine that if an athlete in any other globally popular and televised sport had gone through the story we see unfolding here, it'd be mainstream-news-worthy.
The most interesting aspect (for me) is that while many of the commentators have been filmed speaking 'in one session', Tas has been recorded on three separate occasions (and judging by his hair in each, with some considerable gap between). What this means is that the crew filming Tas at the start (and indeed Tas himself), wouldn't have known how things would turn out by the final frames. It gives the film a very organic feel; documentary in its truest sense.
There aren't many chuckles in the tale of two lost souls who happen to be the best at what they do, but watching Tony Hawk get his arse handed to him by a guy who's broken one of his ribs but carried on regardless is both inspiring and grin-inducing.
It's rare that a title perfectly encapsulates its film, but All This Mayhem comes as close as dammit.
Fairly.
I did.
Almost certainly.
Probably best to watch at home with the amount of camcordered archive footage they've got going on.
Nope.
I won't avoid it, but probably won't seek it out.
There isn't.
Seriously though, was this all reported on the mainstream news outside of Australia, and I just missed 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.
