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.
Youth Cert: 15 / 124 mins / Dir. Paolo Sorrentino / Trailer
Oh, Michael. That an actor could appear in The Last Witch Hunter and Youth within the same career is odd enough, but do so within the same six months? Of course, it was our own Mr Caine who famously said of his appearance in 'Jaws: The Revenge': "I have never seen it, … however, I have seen the house that it built". You have to admire the man's honesty, even if you can't always trust his judgement.
Youth is a hypnotically rambling, and sometimes borderline psychedelic, film in which Caine portrays Fred Ballinger, a retired composer and conductor who is holidaying in a health resort in the Swiss Alps at the same time as his screenwriter friend Mick Boyle (played by Harvey Keitel). The two banter and reminisce as Boyle struggles to finish a script and Ballinger struggles to remain retired, tasks made no easier by the breakup of the relationship between their children (Rachel Weisz and Ed Stoppard).
The film sees Caine on probably his best form since Harry Brown, and Keitel at least makes some move towards redressing the thespic balance of those dignity/credibility-shredding insurance adverts he appeared in. Paul Dano and Rachel Weisz are nicely understated in their supporting roles, and it's all looking quietly restrained until Jane Fonda turns up in the third act to munch all available scenery like the Chewits monster (albeit entirely intentionally).
As a sort of lethargic musing on creativity and meditation, Youth is utterly intriguing. Director Paolo Sorrentino and cinematographer Luca Bigazzi bring us a film with the photography of The Grand Budapest Hotel but the pacing of Inside Llewyn Davis. And much like those two, after seeing Youth for the first time, I have pretty much no idea what it's actually about; only that I enjoyed it. Part of me thinks that the film's resort-setting and the accompanying character-arcs could be a metaphor for purgatory, but that seems too obvious in a movie as wilfully obscure as this one. That said, I also believe the film's natural ending point is about ten minutes before the one we get; that's why it's not my film. I don't think that it'll become one of my favourites, but the film definitely calls for another viewing or two.
However, the film loses a point for featuring Paloma Faith in a speaking role as Paloma Faith*1, somehow combining one of the most irritating things in the world with itself to create something much worse…
From an acting point of view, probably not.
Although that's a credit to the cast's previous work, not a criticism of it here.
Probably not.
There isn't.
Level 2: Youth stars that Harvey Keitel who was in that Pulp Fiction alongside that Sam 'Windu' Jackson.
*1 Paloma Faith plays Paloma Faith for reasons which are not explained or even suggested. Not withstanding the fact that she annoys me, there is no narrative reason for a 'real' person to be included in this fictional narrative. There is even less logical reason for that person to be Paloma Faith.
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 Congress Cert: 15 / 123 mins / Dir. Ari Folman
Have you ever seen a film which you thoroughly enjoyed, but your summation to other people is "well, I can tell you what happened, but I'm a bit more vague on what it's about"? That. A beguiling combination of live-action and 2D animation, The Congress feels like a present-day tribute to The Matrix and Yellow Submarine.
Robin Wright plays Robin Wright, a famous yet troubled actress feeling increasingly left behind by the film industry with each passing year as she raises her two teenage children alone. With the acting work just about dried up, Miramount studios make her a tantalisingly lucrative offer: sell the rights to your image, your emotions, your soul, and never need to act in-person again…
Now. There are some fascinating ideas about the future of digital entertainment presented in The Congress, dressed up to seem satirically exaggerated, even though the viewer knows full well they're not. A lot of the notions in the first act which seem borderline dystopian are actually the logical progression of the way the business is headed (for example, imagine explaining Big Brother to the average TV viewer in the 1960's; it'd seem pointless at best and like some obscene sci-fi at worst). The first act deals with Robin's "current" situation and the contract presented by studio boss Jeff (Danny Huston) through her agent, Al (Harvey Keitel). So far, so through the looking glass. The second act of the film is animated, and it's at this point that the fanciful notions presented not half an hour earlier will begin to seem like the telephone directory, by comparison…
The disjointing thing (for me), is that the overall concept of The Contract and what it entails is explained clearly and painstakingly (as it is to Robin, essentially), whereas the animated section isn't really. There's a brief pre-amble from a security guard explaining (again, to Robin and the audience) that she's entering 'a strictly animated zone', she pops an ampoule and it's felt-tip central. We get used to the world and its mechanics along with Robin, and for all its kookiness, it still makes sense (within the context of the story). The film's strength lies in that no matter how batshit-crazy it gets, the plot never pulls you out of the moment and back into your seat; it's hallucinogenically mesmerising, and makes sense in the same way that a dream does while you're in it.
The film's final act returns us to live action, and it was here that I pretty much admitted defeat with the plot. As an inverse-reaction to itself, The Congress seems to somehow explain less and less as it goes on, despite the characters giving a running synopsis of what's happening. The fault here lies with the viewer, in this case. As I can't explain why the wheels fell off for me without spoiling the plot, I can only leave you to watch the film and then ask me "What are you talking about? That made perfect sense."
Stunningly beautiful in both concept and execution, but not to be taken on lightly or without a full span of concentration. A film which seemt to be a metaphor for another metaphor, The Congress is one of the finest works I've seen this year, but I know for a fact that I only understood about half of it…
Oh, and I'm pretty certain that on the animated cruise-ship, one of the robot bellboys is using R2-D2 as a floor polisher. Look out for that.
Representative of parts of it, but not of the whole.
For the first two acts, yes.
Almost certainly. What that is? That's what's beyond me.
Cinema's nice, but you won't lose too much by watching this at home.
Nah.
I will.
There bloody well is, an'all! Right at the top of the animated segment. Mint.
Come on, help me out here. Tell me why the final segment is as great as the first two.
Comments box below or the WoB Facebook page…
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.
