The Greatest Trick

Michael Moore is a curious chap. In the past few years, Heidi and I have watched all his films as director available in the UK (Roger & Me, Bowling for Columbine and now Fahrenheit 9/11), and have read a couple of his books, most notably Stupid White Men and Dude, Where’s my Country?. While there are certain views of his that we absolutely do not share (say, on abortion), he makes for very entertaining reading and documentary film-making, and provokes you to consider the issues that get bandied around in a little more detail (like, was the Iraq war all about oil? According to this film, it would seem that way). But at the same time, he is a shameless manipulator of facts and events and sound and pictures to make you feel what he wants you to feel, especially in his films, and I know that this frustrates a lot of people (while of course every film-maker does this, it feels less acceptable in a documentary than in a fiction). There is a clear example of this to British viewers - he presents a list of the silly little countries who ally with Bush over the Iraq war, but leaves the UK out totally, just to make his point.

Fahrenheit 9/11 (the title of it annoys me, by the way. You should say ‘nine-one-one’, so as to recognise the steal from the title of Fahrenheit 451 - ‘four-five-one’ - , but everyone says ‘nine-eleven’) is no exception to this. Moore’s chosen focus this time is George W Bush: his history, his business dealings, his agendas, his administration, his wars, his miraculous ability to win states in elections, his father’s influence and, of course, his stupidity. In some parts of the film, it feels like Moore has just become obssessed with personally attacking this man (e.g. the moment when Bush is told about the World Trade Centre attacks, he is sat in a primary classroom with a load of children, thinking about what to do and trying to process the information. He looks troubled and a bit blank, which I think I would look like in that situation, but Moore lambasts him for not getting up and doing something for ten minutes, and speculates wildly about what could be going through the President’s mind). In others he presents facts which shock fairly and reasonably: did you know that when all planes were grounded straight after the 9/11 attacks, special dispensation was made to fly members of the Bin Laden family out of America, so they wouldn’t come under attack? And still other sections have a narration track that makes Moore’s commentary feel like borderline racism (when talking about the Bush family’s relationship with Saudi Arabia).

Moore’s style of confrontational film-making is still present (when he finds out that only one member of Congress has a child signed up and fighting in Iraq, he accosts more of them on Capitol Hill to see if he can persuade them to sign their children up to help the war effort. Unsuprisingly, they are reluctant.), and this continues to entertain, but the film seemed less focussed than his previous work, especially Bowling for Columbine, which was excellent. He also reveals his own limited scope by going back to his home town of Flint (see Roger & Me for more on this place), and not really spending any time considering the implications of Bush as a world leader, just his effect on the American people.

Not a bad film overall, but not as sharp as previous offerings. There are some graphic images of death and war, and some sudden swearing which takes you a bit by surprise! See Bowling for Columbine for the best example of Michael Moore’s work.

Before starting this review, I must confess to no knowledge of the books on which Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events is based; if anyone can lend me them I will happily read them, because on the basis of what we saw on Wednesday evening, they are a lot of fun, while still being dark and a little edgy.

Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire (played by three of the most convincing child actors I’ve seen for a while) discover that a fire has taken the lives of their parents, and are packed off to live with their closest relative, the just-a-little-eccentric amateur actor Count Olaf (Jim Carrey). He, of course, being a cad and a bounder, is after the fortune that the children have inherited from their parents’ untimely demise, and devises devilish schemes to do away with them, which are a lot of fun to watch! The children have special talents too of course, which help them get out of awkward spots - Violet is like a teenage female MacGyver, abel to invent something useful out of any old bits of tat she finds lying around; Klaus is a voracious reader with a photographic memory; and little nipper Sunny is exactly that - she bites stuff. Anyway, having got away from Olaf’s clutches once, they are sent to another ‘relative’, only to discover that the hideous count won’t leave them alone…

The film is set in a brilliant Tim Burton/Roald Dahl/Jean-Pierre Jeunet dark fantasy world, where the architecture is foreboding and crumbly, the characters weird and hilarious and the dialogue sparky and unique. There is a clear three-part structure, which reflects that fact that it was adapted from three books, each one containing an odd relative for the children to encounter and a new disguise for Carrey (who, by the way, we normally can’t stand due to his mugging and idiocy being generally pointless e.g Ace Ventura. But here there is a good reason for him to do his weird and wacky faces, voices and physical comedy, and he had us in stitches. I think also that you watch him through the eyes of these totally bemused and horrified kids, who are presumably thinking ‘this guy is related to us?’). Meryl Streep also surprised us, with her neurotic thought-out-to-the-minutest-detail phobias (our favourite: “I never touch doorknobs. They could explode into a million tiny pieces and one go in my eye.”)

We loved it, with the proviso that we would be cautious about which children we would show it to, and at what age. It is dark, and people behave in odd ways and cause others to die and suffer in unpleasant ways; one way Olaf comes up with to get the money feels particularly creepy. Heidi said it reminded her of The Princess Bride, and I kept thinking of Edward Scissorhands as I watched it, so if those movies struck a chord with you, see Lemony Snicket ASAP.

Simon probably won’t believe this, but there will be others who do, but we watched Lawrence of Arabia for the first time yesterday. It’s one of those films where you really long for a bigger TV, no matter how big yours is!

For those who haven’t seen it and don’t know much about T.E. Lawrence (of which I am one), the film chronicles the attempts by a quirky, enigmatic British army lieutenant to unite and call to arms the disparate Arab tribes under attack by the Turks during WWI. Lawrence (played with a gentle touch and detached demeanour by Peter O’Toole in his first major role) travels into the desert to locate Prince Feisal (Alec Guiness), comes across various other tribes along the way and brings them together to take strategic towns on the Middle Eastern front. There is a continuing mistrust of the British army by the Arabs (and of their own differing tribes), because they fear the British will simply move in once the Turks have been ousted, and they will be no better off. These political snapshots are fascinating to see, in days when we and the Americans declare war on a country which just happens to contain valuable oilfields. During WWI it was the Suez Canal that was protected at all costs. Nothing changes really…

The film is beautifully shot - I spent a lot of time wondering exactly how far away from their subjects the camera and crew were at times, and how David Lean set up the astonishing shots that he got - and plays out against a backdrop of amazing desert vistas and thrilling horse and camel charges. The first half, when characters are established, relationships tested, pounding desert heat survived, lives lost that shouldn’t have been, engages more than the second. The end of the film, while it is welcome after nearly four hours, felt to us like it came suddenly, and the final few scenes are a bit of a mish-mash that don’t seem to be going anywhere. O’Toole is very engaging to watch, however, and those piercing blue eyes just grab you every time. As the film goes on, his character becomes bashed and battered by what he goes through, but as Halliwell’s Movie Guide points out, you never really get to the bottom of what motivates this man.

I recommend the film to anyone who is able to make the time to see it, but be aware: we had to have 2 sessions as an uninterrupted 3 and a 1/2 hours just doesn’t exist in this house, and there are some dark scenes (one of torture) and ‘battle violence’.

Simon, I welcome your thoughts.

Well, having opened a can of worms yesterday by giving our perspective on the first 20 minutes of Kill Bill, I wanted to go in a totally different direction and offer a review of a film that is close to the hearts of many, The Sound of Music. I can hear tunes being hummed even as I begin…

Actually, it is one of those films that has become so burned into the subconscious that it is very hard to review objectively. I watched it countless times as a child, but only ever seemed to get so far, and got somewhat bored by the second half (the wedding scene still seems interminably long, actually), but as an adult I have been able to watch it with fresh eyes and have really enjoyed doing so. We all know it’s about a nun who goes to look after the 7 angel-voiced children of Salzburg-based strict-as-hell Captain von Trapp, teaches them to sing, falls in love with their father, etc. So I won’t bother saying that again. We all know that it’s got some fantastic songs and marvellously put-together musical set-pieces (’Doe, a deer’ and ‘The Lonely Goatherd’ being my favourites visually and aurally. By the way, you can’t watch this film on a TV that doesn’t support widescreen presentation and enjoy it to its full capacity. You will miss at least 2 children doing something on the edge of the frame every time). We all know it’s based on a true story of the von Trapp family escaping the invasion of Nazism (if you didn’t, you’ve learned something new!). But what I hadn’t appreciated as a child was:

- how heartbreakingly wonderful it is when Christopher Plummer first breaks into song with ‘Edelweiss’. It has me in tears every time these days. His transformation from a broken man trying to paper over the cracks through order and routine into a loving father who can enjoy seeing his children grow up is perhaps quite fast, but nevertheless very moving. I’m finding myself very much attracted to great father-figures in films at the moment in fact. I think it’s something to do with having kids!

- how bravely patriotic Captain von Trapp is at a time when Austria was being annexed by the Third Reich. During the party at his house (when the children sing ‘So long, farewell’) he displays the Austrian flag for all to see, including various local dignitaries who have given support to the Nazis in order to save their lives, reputations or both. Derogatory comments are made, and he defends himself marvellously. The same is true about the singing festival scene at the end, when the family make their escape. The only reason they can do so is because they get the whole audience joining in on ‘Edelweiss’, a song containing the line ‘bless my homeland forever’. With Nazi officers sitting at the front of the audience, this is an astonishing and courageous move, and one that I love watching. I am not someone you would describe as particularly patriotic, because these days, and in Britain, it seems to mean something very different. However, standing up to an evil he knew was totally wrong is a wonderful character trait to see in the Captain, especially when the first impression you have of him is not much fun.

- how much I would come to hate the song Maria (Julie Andrews) sings as she makes her way from the Abbey to the von Trapp residence (which I believe to be called ‘I have confidence’). It’s not one that most people remember, because it’s not as good as lots of the others, but I actually find it quite offensive (there’s nothing else in this film that could possibly offend, you have to let me have something!). This is a woman who, though we have a very clear idea that she doesn’t perform very well as a nun (’How do you solve a problem like Maria?’), had devoted herself to a spiritual life. Whether this was by choice or necessity, we don’t know, but the fact that this song makes no mention of the confidence that she can have in God as she goes to this terrifying job is a real shame. I get really annoyed by the line ‘I have confidence in me’; if there’s one thing I have learned in this life it’s that relying on your own strength in difficult situations is an almost certain path to failure, and as a nun I feel she should know this!

Overall, I love watching The Sound of Music now, and am determined that my children will be exposed to it too. I do still feel that the second half feels longer and is less interesting than the first, but that’s just the way it is. If you haven’t seen it yet, have you been hiding under a rock?

It’s a long post I know, but with good reason. And if a five-line review can generate 7 or 8 comments, think what might happen here!

The Usual Suspects: “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist”. This is one of the most profound lines of dialogue on spiritual matters in a not-particularly-spiritual film that I’ve ever heard. One of the main charcaters is speaking about a crime lord, but the truth of his statement is undeniable. If more people recognised the existence and power of spiritual forces in this world (and I don’t mean those stupid ‘talk to your dead mother’ shows that we get on LivingTV), we might be in a better place to do battle with them. Anyway, back to the film.

Someone is shot and a boat explodes. There is one survivor, known as ‘Verbal’ Kint and played by Kevin Spacey, who tells the story of what happened to a police detective, and we see it in flashback. 5 criminals were brought together for a line-up (that iconic poster shot), and from that point organised various operations together until the drug heist that goes wrong resulting in the aforementioned explosion. Being a crime film, there is plenty of violence and bad language, but none of it is gratuitous.

To say any more than that about the plot would be wrong, as one of the delights in watching the movie lies in the twists and turns that lie in wait. The other main pleasure is in the characters created by a superb ensemble cast. Spacey is phenomenal, and the rest of the group play off against each other excellently (Benicio del Toro is particularly memorable as the bizarrely incomprehensible Puerto Rican Jew, Fenster).

The film also has a very special place in our hearts for personal reasons, as it was one of the movies Heidi and I watched together while we were ‘courting’. I know, really romantic! And the commentary on the DVD is one of the best I’ve listened to.

If you don’t know who Keyser Soze is yet, watch this immediately!

My sister has, I think rightly, informed me that the title of this blog was off-putting and misleading. Heidi said she thought the same when Sarah made this comment. So I have changed the name to part of a line from one of our favourite films (from the 90s). As soon as someone can tell me which film it comes from and the whole line, I will review the movie!

I can’t tell you much about this film except that the first fifteen minutes were repulsive, and we didn’t want to go any further than that. In that short time we saw one of the most foul things I’ve ever encountered, and was horrified that someone could have thought it up in the first place. Knowing Quentin Tarantino’s style, he probably though it was funny to have a scene where a male nurse pimps his comatosed patients out to his redneck friends. The girl then wakes up and exacts her bloody revenge on the unsuspecting idiot. Violent, nasty and disturbing. And to think that QT made two of these!

The Chorus: What a lovely film! Heartwarming in the best kind of ways, without pulling away from unpleasantness when required by the story.

In 1949, a failed musician (Clement Mathieu, played by Gerard Jugnot) gets a job as a supervisor at a boarding school for ‘difficult’ boys, and begins to understand why they react badly to the oppressive regime put in place by the Headmaster. As a motivational tool, he starts a choir, and discovers hidden talents among some of the boys, and a way to win their hearts.

That’s about it, unless I reveal plot details. It’s a very simple plot, with characters largely painted in broad strokes, but is all the better for it. You have the bullies, the victims of bullies, the angelic-faced but terribly-behaved boy, the reprobate being failed by the system (and his continuing efforts to shock through sexual references), the harsh teachers (violence is present in the film) and the kinder teachers. The casting is impeccable - both children and adults - and the actors given space to really perform well. And obviously, the soundtrack is wonderful to listen to. There was apparently some fuss about the choir they used for the soundtrack, and whether they were paid properly, but don’t let that spoil your enjoyment of the film.

It has some lovely scenes between Mathieu and the boys as well, with fantastic messages about forgiveness, respect and how to win people over. The scene where the choir sing for a one of the school’s benefactresses is particularly touching. The whole film could very easily be compared to Dead Poet’s Society, but doesn’t have as much sentimentality or manipulative film-making. Mathieu is not allowed the possibility of an ‘O Captain my captain’ moment, but the boys make up for that in the most wonderful way. See this!

Boring 2002 version of Stanislav Lem’s hardcore sci-fi novel, which is apparently more faithful than the first movie version made, 1972’s Solaris, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky. We won’t be renting that one either then! When we read the novel in Jan/Feb time, both of us were quite freaked out by it in places, but there was no tension in the film we watched tonight at all. Major characters seemed either miscast or mis-directed, and the character development was actually too quick and therefore not believable. In the hour we watched, there was a fairly long sex scene and some partial nudity. It didn’t make the film any better, of course!

House of Flying Daggers: That was a lot of fun. If you’ve seen Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon you’ve more or less seen this, except that the focus (in terms of action) was less on jumping and flying and more on doing amazing things with weapons. If you didn’t like Crouching Tiger, for one thing you’re crazy, and for another thing you won’t engage with this probably. The plot revolves around the police unveiling an underground subversive group (the Flying Daggers of the title) and a girl playing with the affections of those around her, and there are several twists and turns, changes of allegiance and unexpected reveals, so I can’t say much more without ruining it. But all that is a backdrop serving to highlight some beautiful fighting. And it really is visually and aurally beautiful - the sound was one of the main things we noticed. The only let-down was that several plot-lines and mysteries were left hanging in the air at the end, which was somewhat frustrating. There is a certain amount of blood-letting towards the end, and one (non-graphic) sex scene, so if those things get in the way of full enjoyment, be aware.