The Greatest Trick

German cinema has had something of a golden era this decade, with several terrific films including Goodbye Lenin, The Edukators and Downfall. The Lives of Others is the latest in this trend, and Oscar voters thought it better than Pan’s Labyrinth, awarding it best foreign film. At the time, I was immensely irritated, given how impressed I had been by Pan’s Labyrinth. Therefore, I came to this film determined to conclude that it wasn’t as good. I had planned a spectacular rant venting against this terrible Oscar injustice, and was looking forward to writing it.

Alas, I am unable to do so. Comparisons between two such radically different masterpieces is impossible and pointless. Yes, I did use the word masterpiece, though here it feels strangely redundant. The Lives of Others is one of those rare pictures that seem beyond mere superlatives. It is affecting on every conceivable level; at once historically fascinating yet relevant, dramatically gripping, blackly comical, thought- provoking and quietly touching.

Set in 1984 (a nice nod to George Orwell), East Berlin secret police Captain Wiesler is assigned to put playwright Georg Dreyman under surveillance. Dreyman is loyal to the State, but his girlfriend Christa is having an affair with corrupt government minister Hempf because he is blackmailing her. Hempf wants Dreyman out of the way, clearing the way to make his relationship with Christa more permanent, so he puts pressure on Wiesler’s boss Grubitz to find evidence that Dreyman is a traitor.

At the start Wiesler is a ruthless interrogator with an absolute belief in the State, but as he listens to Dreyman, he develops a respect and admiration for the man he is watching. Slowly cracks begin to appear in Wiesler’s harsh, cold exterior, and he starts to unravel – reading Brecht, listening to Beethoven and becoming sympathetic to Dreyman and Christa. Eventually Wiesler feels compelled to intervene and persuades Christa to stop seeing Hempf when Dreyman discovers the affair. Unfortunately, this act causes Dreyman to re-think his loyalty to the State. He plans to publish an article in West Germany about East German suicides after his blacklisted stage director friend Jerska kills himself. Wiesler discovers this plot, but feels dangerously compelled to keep looking the other way, even though Grubitz is becoming convinced that he is hiding something.

Wiesler is an extraordinary and hugely memorable character, played brilliantly by Ulrich Mühe. The supporting roles are also excellent – from Sebastian Koch as Dreyman to Martina Gedeck’s Christa and Ulrich Tukur as Grubitz. Thomas Thieme is terrific as the odious Hempf, Volkmar Kleinert is compellingly tragic as Jerska, and Hans-Uwe Bauer also deserves a special mention as Dreyman’s malcontent friend Hauser.

Director Florian Henckel von Donnermarck (quite a mouthful) paints an appropriately drab and grim portrait of East Germany, and cinematographer Hagen Bogdanski makes great use of space to characterise his subjects. For example Wiesler’s large but depressingly sparse apartment reflects his own emptiness, whilst Jerska has a small room surrounded with books, reflecting how his own learning has trapped him. Every other aspect of the production is superb, from Patricia Rommel’s crisp editing to Gabriel Yared’s quietly haunting music score.

Not only is The Lives of Others a first-rate story in its own right, it is also a timely reminder of the evils of authoritarian dictatorships (whether extreme left or right wing), especially given the current UK political climate. Having New Labour’s ID card scheme, not to mention their endless “nanny state” legislation in the back of one’s mind makes this uncomfortably prescient viewing. The message is understated but clear, and I for one wish Tony Blair and Gordon Brown would listen to it: State interference in private matters and collecting information unnecessarily leads to a society that treats every citizen as a potential enemy and innocent lives are inevitably destroyed.

But even more important than the political message is its moral/spiritual undertone. This is an understated but deeply moving story of redemption, about a cold, cruel but desperately lonely man rediscovering his humanity, and eventually doing the right thing in spite of the cost.

If I had to pick nits, I ought to throw in the regulation warnings about sexual content, though to my mind there was nothing gratuitous. The film also loses pace slightly in the final act, but the emotional pay-off more than makes up for this, and lingers in the mind for a long, long time. In fact, I have an inkling that I might just have seen the best film of the year. I therefore urge everyone to make the effort to go and do likewise.

Simon Dillon, April 2007.

Has anyone else noticed Danny Boyle’s films are always about people going mad? Shallow Grave, Trainspotting, The Beach, 28 Days Later and even A Life Less Ordinary to some degree feature main characters who go stark raving bonkers.

The most recent addition to this trend, Sunshine, is a nifty sci-fi horror flick that succeeds in being original by reversing the scary movie convention of being afraid of the dark. Here, light is the enemy, and darkness is the protection that prevents scientists aboard the spacecraft Icarus 2 from a fatal dose of sunburn. But the sun doesn’t merely incinerate, Boyle’s latest loonies in waiting feel compelled to spend unhealthy amounts of time staring at it (albeit through umpteen safety filters). This bizarre compulsion – it is hinted – triggers the inevitable descent into all things barmy.

So what has possessed these astronauts to fly off to the big round hot thing? Due to a collision with some anti-matter, the sun is dying. They plan to “restart” it using a massive nuclear device the size of New York (an idea which reminded me of The Core; an extremely silly B-movie from a few years ago in which a group of scientists try to restart the Earth’s core with an atomic bomb).

But the Icarus 2 was not the first mission to attempt this. Well obviously, otherwise it wouldn’t be called Icarus 2. All communication was lost with the first Icarus and everyone assumed the mission failed. However, once the Icarus 2 crew get close to the sun, they pick up a distress signal from the first ship, and in classic horror film style, stupidly decide to investigate.

Stylistically, this takes its cue not only from obvious sci-fi touchstones such as Alien and 2001: A Space Odyssey, but also lesser known works including Event Horizon and horror films such as The Shining, The Haunting, and The Exorcist. The influence of the latter is particularly felt in some rather unsettling subliminal frames that crop up whilst the Icarus crew make the usual mistake of “splitting-up-whilst-exploring-a-dark-and-sinister-abandoned-spacecraft”. In other words, despite its originality, Sunshine not above being derivative, which is not necessarily a bad thing. On a more unusual note, it is interesting that much recent sci-fi eschews alien encounters as passé – Serenity for instance, not to mention TV series Firefly and the new version of Battlestar Galactica. Here too, there are no aliens. Instead, the astronaut-turned-barking- religious-loony that ultimately emerges is considerably more frightening.

There are some interesting moral dilemmas that crop up along the way, and it is here the cast are able to do something a little more interesting with their stock characters. The always excellent Cillian Murphy plays main protagonist Capa, a physicist whose advice leads to disaster. His subsequent actions and reactions are compelling – particularly in a scene where he coldly announces that there is only enough oxygen for four people and three others will have to die for the mission to succeed. The ensuing moral debates provide a modicum of food for thought. For instance, do they let a guilt-ridden astronaut kill himself? All the astronauts have insisted they are expendable in the interests of the greater good, but when the time comes to choose who lives and who dies, which of them will have the courage of their convictions?

Despite a good script that maintains vice-like tension throughout, the film falls apart somewhat in its messy but inevitable denouement, and although it’s appropriately loud and frightening, it’s just a bit too incoherent. On the plus side, the special effects are stunning, and it looks great on a big screen. Sunshine is no classic, but it is a must-see for sci-fi buffs and anyone who enjoys a good scare (albeit with my usual warnings about strong bloody violence and swearing). It’s also a great chance to stare at the sun and go a little crazy.

Simon Dillon, April 2007.

Several years ago I attended a boxing match with some friends. I didn’t know quite what to expect and half wondered whether I would find my sensibilities too delicate for the gladiatorial spectacle. However, I needn’t have worried. Within minutes, all pretensions of being civilised evaporated and I was howling for blood with the rest of the crowd.

I had much the same trepidation about going to see 300, director Zack Snyder’s adaptation of Frank Miller’s graphic novel about the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 B.C, where three hundred Spartans stood against the vastly superior numbers of the Persian army. But again, within minutes I was completely sucked into the thrillingly blood-soaked battles. Watching 300 is the modern day equivalent of watching the Roman games, and its popularity puts a magnifying glass on the unfortunate baser instincts of human nature, for which I must put my hands up and plead guilty.

Make no mistake – this is absolutely not for the faint of heart. Heads, limbs and other body parts are hacked are severed throughout. Blood splashes in all directions and the highly stylised violence will challenge even the hardiest viewer. This is not a film where warfare is depicted realistically, nor one that wants to say war is hell, but in fact the exact opposite. Indeed, 300 is so steeped in the courage of its militaristic convictions that one almost finds oneself nodding in agreement that gruesome death in battle is the highest possible honour.

It seems pointless to descend into sanctimonious ramblings about gratuitous violence (not to mention sex and nudity) when everything about this film is gratuitous. Subtlety, understatement and complexity are not to be found, yet the carnage is so overheated and intense that somehow it goes beyond the point of being gratuitous and seems to become art. Which makes sense, since this has the look and feel of the comic book on which it is based (much like the other Frank Miller adaptation, Sin City).

To be fair, there is a smidgeon of positive moral and spiritual content amid the severed limbs. A curious spiritual warfare allegory in a couple of scenes has Xerxes trying to tempt Spartan King Leonidas with untold riches if he would only bow to him, which has vague Biblical echoes of Jesus being tempted in the wilderness by Satan. On a less spiritual note, it’s impossible not to admire the Spartans for their bravery and honour.

Although the acting is pretty much one-note, it’s a very good note. Gerard Butler is terrific as King Leonidas. Dominic West provides good support as Theron, Rodrigo Santoro makes a suitably odious King Xerxes, and as Dilios David Wenham’s performance and narration are both spot on. On the other hand Lena Headey doesn’t really have much of a chance to shine as Queen Gorgo, simply because the battle is so much more interesting than her boring subplot in which she tries and get the corrupt Sparta council to send in the army as back up.

It seems utterly redundant to say that this is a visually stunning film, art directed to within an inch of its life. The colour palette carefully matches that of the original comic, and the use of CGI has a deliberately larger-than-life feel. In places, one is even reminded of Sauron’s army in The Lord of the Rings since Xerxes has what appear to be orcs, trolls and giant elephants at his command. The sound effects and Hans Zimmer-esque music score (Tyler Bates) are surprisingly effective, and the end credit title sequence is superb.

Interestingly, the Iranian government have attacked this film because of its depiction of the ancient Persians. Given how 300 is clearly intended as an American right-wing fantasy (with immaculate Aryan warriors fighting dark skinned orc-like freaks), this offence is understandable, but I can’t say I particularly sympathise, especially since it is so removed from real life, and also given recent current events. Anyway, I doubt 300 will make anyone a racist – they’ll be on too much of a high from the adrenaline charged fights to read anything into it.

To summarise, if you’re even remotely squeamish, avoid 300 like the plague. If you’re a historian, you’ll be annoyed at the many liberties taken. If you’re looking for thought provoking drama look elsewhere. But whilst I can’t in good conscience recommend this to anyone, I also have to admit that, like the boxing match I attended, I enjoyed it immensely.

Simon Dillon, April 2007.