The Greatest Trick

Its interesting how Christians with a calling to the media react to movies like Quentin Tarantino’s latest offering, Death Proof. Generally, we tend to comment on the excellence of the direction, performances, and so forth before saying the film is bad news. Obviously, God has made us this way for a reason and therefore we do appreciate the aesthetics of filmmaking first and foremost, even though most other Christians would instantly dismiss a film like Death Proof as a godless, profane and violent abhorrence.

Death Proof has had a curious cinematic history so far. A shorter version was originally released in the US as part of a double bill with Roberto Rodriguez’s Planet Terror. Both films were released under the title Grindhouse, intended as homage to the “Grindhouse” tradition of the 1970s (basically cheap, sleazy, horror exploitation films shown in fairly run-down venues). However, Grindhouse bombed at the box office, so it was decided to release the films separately internationally, and in longer versions.

The full version of Death Proof retains much of the Grindhouse feel. There are deliberate scratches, frame jumps, faded colours, black and white reels, missing scenes, and even an old school “Our feature presentation” ident at the start. Its only when a character answers a mobile phone that the audience suddenly realises it isn’t set in the 1970s.

The plot concerns Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), a psychopathic stunt driver who lures nubile young girls to their doom into his “death proof” car, which his been built to withstand all manner of crashes. If that sounds distasteful, it is. But the girls aren’t merely window dressing. Unlike their counterparts in the 70s exploitation flicks, most of the film is spent getting to know these victims-to-be, and it is here the familiar Tarantino snappy dialogue and characterisation makes a welcome return following its virtual absence from the Kill Bill films. The girls in Death Proof are funny, sassy, foul-mouthed, and although some of them are ultimately every bit as vicious as Mike, curiously likeable too.

Those steeped in film lore will enjoy spotting the endless references – everything from Two Lane Blacktop, Vanishing Point, White Line Fever and Dirty Mary Crazy Larry, to more mainstream cult fare such as Mad Max and Spielberg’s pre-Jaws classic Duel. Structurally, the film even feels a bit like Psycho, since the female protagonists are switched mid-way.

As an artist, Tarantino is pretty much on autopilot. Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction were both massively influential back in the 90s, but Death Proof ultimately suffers from the same shortcomings of the films that inspired it, namely that its threadbare plot is slight and inconsequential. Strong performances and a hugely tense, high-speed finish ensure boredom is never a problem, but one still gets the sense that Tarantino is wasting his considerable talents.

Needless to say, Death Proof contains a barrage of f-words and graphically bloody violence. To his credit, Tarantino deliberately avoids overt sex scenes and nudity, but there is a plethora of what the BBFC calls “strong sexual references” in the girls’ smutty conversations. As I said earlier, although the stylish, exciting presentation is likely to appeal to those who appreciate the cinematic medium, I nevertheless cannot recommend it as it is morally and spiritually bankrupt.

Simon Dillon, September 2007.

These days, westerns are a bit like buses. After waiting for ages, two turn up. Mere weeks after the massively underrated Seraphim Falls comes another tale of the Wild West, albeit a more traditional one shorn of the former’s supernatural weirdness.

3:10 to Yuma is a rare example of a remake surpassing the original. The 1957 picture was a tense, tight affair, itself based on a short story by Elmore Leonard, but Walk the Line director James Mangold gives it a surprisingly effective new lease of life.

Struggling rancher Dan Evans (Christian Bale) is failing to pay his bills, and is given days to pay up or he’ll lose his property. But after notorious wanted criminal Ben Wade (Russell Crowe) is captured, Evans volunteers to be part of a detail escorting him to a train that will take him to Yuma to face trial. Because Wade’s gang are still loose, it is likely those with him will be killed, but because Evans needs the money, he decides to take the risk.

Thematically similar to High Noon, this follows the plot of the original film to begin with, but makes a few significant additions and deviations in the second half, and it is all the better for it. These additions include an exciting chase on a railroad construction site, a deadly night ambush during an ill-advised detour through hostile Apache territory, and an interesting character arc for Evans’ angry 14-year-old son William, who, after years of disillusionment thinking his father is a spineless burn-out, gradually comes to respect him.

Russell Crowe, in the Glen Ford role from the original, is superb. Despite being a despicable thief and murderer, his humanity is hinted at throughout – whether through drawing pictures, showing sensitivity to women, or developing a grudging respect for Evans’ mans-gotta-do-what-a-mans-gotta-do determination. Evans himself provides another superb opportunity for Christian Bale to exercise his considerable acting muscles, and by the end of the film Van Heflin’s performance in the same role from the original has all but faded from memory.

The supporting cast includes Peter Fonda as Byron – an embittered, Bible-bashing, tough-as-nails lawman who has tracked Wade for years. Ben Foster is frighteningly vicious as Wade’s right hand man Charlie Prince, Gretchen Mol does very well in what is essentially a one-note imperilled wife role and Dallas Roberts is fine as Grayson Butterfield, a railroad representative. But it is Logan Lerman’s terrific performance as pivotal character Williams that is most praiseworthy among the smaller roles.

Like the original, this version of 3:10 to Yuma could well prove a minor classic of the genre. Certainly based on one viewing it is an exciting, thoughtful reinterpretation of the earlier film. Like High Noon, the original had an anti-McCarthy message and the screenwriters wisely retain these overtones, since they always have contemporary relevance. In addition, if you can stomach the brutal violence, this extols old fashioned, politically incorrect notions such as honour, sacrifice and even hints at Christian redemption. At their best, westerns were allegorical morality plays, and in that sense, this is truly a film about which one can say, “they don’t make ‘em like that any more.”

Simon Dillon, September 2007.

Widely tipped for Oscar success, Atonement has been given rave reviews just about everywhere. However, after viewing it last night, I must confess a certain amount of disappointment. I don’t dispute the quality of the performances or direction, both are first rate. It’s the story itself I have issues with. Having never read Ian McEwan’s novel on which it is based, I can’t be sure if these narrative problems were inherited from the source material, but I can say that as a film, Atonement isn’t the masterpiece many are claiming.

The delicately balanced plot begins in a kind of pseudo-EM Forster environment, during the hot summer of 1935, thematically echoing novels like A Room with a View, Howard’s End or A Passage to India (and their respective film adaptations) with its beautiful, rich, sexually repressed characters going bonkers in the heat.

To say too much about the plot would be unfair, suffice to say it involves a tragic series of misunderstandings between thirteen year old Briony Tallis (Saoirse Ronan), her sister Cecilia (Keira Knightley) and Cecilia’s lover Robbie (James McAvoy). These eventually lead Briony to falsely accuse Robbie of a terrible crime he didn’t commit. The tragic repercussions affect all three for the rest of their lives.

The first act is absolutely superb. Not since the heyday of Merchant/Ivory has an atmosphere of erotic danger been so richly and vividly conjured. Bizarrely, I was also reminded of the eerie, dangerous magic of Peter Weir’s early films including Picnic at Hanging Rock. The second section, during World War II, felt more uneven, despite a superb five minute tracking shot through the horror of Dunkirk (perhaps intended as homage to the famous crane shot in Gone with the Wind where Scarlett walks into a sea of injured Confederate soldiers). At no point during the war sequences does the audience actually see any combat, but only its bloody aftermath. As an aside, this is a story that rightly celebrates the heroism of the nurses who dealt with such a profoundly traumatic deluge of horrific injuries.

This ought to be the film that silences the “Keira-Knightley-can’t-act” brigade (it has to be said, a largely female group). Why people ever thought she couldn’t act is beyond me. I’ve always found her engaging (even in the dreadful Pirates of the Caribbean sequels), and here she is superb. James McAvoy, in his third outstanding performance this year (after The Last King of Scotland and Becoming Jane), is equally good. But best of all is Saoirse Ronan, playing the thirteen year old Briony. If Atonement deserves an Oscar for anything, it’s for her amazing and frankly terrifyingly intense portrayal of a precocious, emotionally immature confused girl whose imagination gets the better of her. Romola Garai and Vanessa Redgrave are also good as older incarnations of the character, but neither matches Ronan’s astonishing screen presence.

Joe Wright directs with considerable flair, not only with the Dunkirk tracking shot mentioned earlier, but in the way he ensures the multiple points of view don’t become incomprehensible. Cinematographer Seamus McGarvy appropriately contrasts lush, opulent colours at the country house with steely, grim tones for the war. Editor Paul Tothill ensures things never get boring, and Dario Marianelli contributes an interesting music score that neatly ties into the typewriter sound effects that punctuate key points in the narrative.

Which brings me back to my overall objection to Atonement: the ending. To my mind, the final act, set in the present, is a let-down. Make no mistake, I am a complete sucker for melancholy and/or tragic romantic epics (Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, Brief Encounter, Doctor Zhivago, Far from the Madding Crowd and The Remains of the Day are all among my all-time favourites), but Atonement gets a bit too post-modern, and, without giving anything away, tries to have it both ways.

Other reasons some audiences will want to steer clear include sex scenes, graphic images of war injuries, and extremely (and I do mean extremely) strong language. Personally, I think there is a very strong case for saying the above material is contextually justified, but it will nevertheless put some people off.

In short, Atonement is superbly acted and directed, it’s never boring, and for the most part the plot engages. But the ending simply isn’t satisfying, and that is why, for all its undoubted merits, I am filing it under “overrated”.

Simon Dillon, September 2007.

Westerns are undoubtedly America’s outstanding contribution to world cinema, but these days there are hardly any and their quality varies greatly. Seraphim Falls, however, is absolutely terrific. This tense, hugely underrated picture has flopped just about everywhere, so I strongly encourage tracking it down now before it disappears from the big screen.

Three years after the American civil war, former Union officer Gideon (Pierce Brosnan) is being relentlessly hunted in the wilderness by a posse led by former Confederate Carver (Liam Neeson). In the riveting opening sequence, Gideon is ambushed in the mountains, and ends up with a bullet in the arm. To evade capture, he dives into an icy river, falls down a waterfall, and once on the other side of the river, desperately struggles to light a fire before he freezes to death. Then he performs an excruciatingly painful bit of impromptu surgery which will have audiences squirming in their seats. This extremely strong sequence sets the tone for this riveting revenge western, essentially a long chase punctuated by vignettes that illustrate Carver and Gideon’s metaphorical descent into hell.

Carver is obsessed with killing Gideon to the point where he is prepared to sacrifice members of his own posse and even innocent parties who get in the way. Just what Gideon has done to deserve this is not known until near the end of the film, but along the way it becomes clear he is an extremely dangerous man, albeit one reluctant to kill unless absolutely necessary. As such, one is kept guessing throughout which of the two are good and bad. And even when the reason for Carver’s revenge quest is revealed, the story takes a curious, quasi-Biblical turn in which not only these men’s lives are at stake, but also their souls.

Brosnan and Neeson both contribute excellent performances, but it is Brosnan who walks away with the film, taking another deliberate step away from James Bond. The other characters don’t get much of a look in, but there are a smattering of interesting minor supporting roles, especially amongst Carver’s posse who eventually realise too late just what lengths their employer will go to.

Director David Von Ancken obviously knows the genre well and extensively references westerns including tough 1950’s Anthony Mann pictures like The Naked Spur or The Man from Laramie, as well as Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven, The Outlaw Josey Wales and even the more mystically edged High Plains Drifter. The opening scenes in the snow capped mountains also have gentle echoes of Sergio Corbucci’s rarely shown and hugely underrated spaghetti western The Big Silence.

Speaking of landscapes, cinematographer John Toll makes superb use of widescreen space. From frozen mountains to parching deserts, the spectacular locations will lose much on a television screen. What is particularly gratifying is the merciful absence of CGI augmentations. The barren, hostile plains depicted in this film have no such need for computer generated enhancements.

The pace flags slightly towards the end of the story, where the film begins to get bogged down in slightly overwrought religious metaphors. Yet these are nevertheless intriguing. Characters appear that could be interpreted as God and the Devil – an Indian by a waterhole and female peddler respectively (her wagon is marked “Louis C Fair”). The Indian tries offer Carver and Gideon life in the form of horses and water. He even makes enigmatic statements like “whatever is yours will come back to you”, presumably a warning about the futility of vengeance, and an encouragement for Carver to let Gideon go. On the other hand, the peddler offers bullets in return for horses, trading chances for escaping the desert for the chance to kill one another, thus selling their souls and keeping them in “hell”. The message is heavy handed but clear: Carver and Gideon are damned because of unforgiveness.

The curiously ambiguous ending can be read a number of ways, both as positive and negative. At first, I didn’t find it satisfying, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it was the correct way to end the film.

In short, for those among you who like westerns and don’t have a problem with some strong violence, gore and occasional swearing, this is a must-see.

Simon Dillon, September 2007.

Someone once asked me what exactly constitutes a film buff. Here, I will attempt to offer a few criteria, all of which, I would argue, apply to me. Whether that makes me passionate about my interest or just immensely sad I leave you to decide. Or you can mark yourself out of twelve and see how you rate on the Simon Dillon “filmbuffometer”.

1. A film buff must appreciate all types of film. That’s not to say he/she can’t have favourite genres, but they must at least be able to appreciate those they are less keen on. For example, its no good saying one is a film buff if one doesn’t appreciate westerns, musicals, or other genres that are less popular in today’s marketplace. In the same way, you are not a film buff if you won’t watch black and white and/or foreign films.

2. A film buff does not have a favourite film. There are far too many classics to choose from, and what one might be predisposed to choosing depends entirely on one’s mood. If forced, they might be able to select a hundred favourites, but that is the absolute minimum.

3. A film buff does not regard a film as a classic until it is at least ten years old and after several viewings. So many films are excellent at first glance and considerably less impressive on a second look (Crash is a recent example of this). With reference to point 2, if a film buff did list his/her hundred favourite films, most of them will be from before 1977 (see point 5 with reference to the pre-Star Wars era).

4. A film buff is defined not by how many good films they’ve seen, but by how many bad films. They will have endured all manner of dross and mediocrity over the years thus qualifying them to truly ascertain what constitutes a good film. Conversely, they will also have discovered many terrible films which are nevertheless entertaining guilty pleasures.

5. A film buff must remain objective in the face of his/her favourite genre. For example, my favourite genre is fantasy/science fiction, but that doesn’t mean I unduly overrate films in that category. When Serenity was initially released, many fanboy types preposterously claimed it was better than Star Wars, whereas it was in fact merely as good as a decent Star Trek film. It was certainly not a monumental landmark event like Star Wars which literally divided American cinema into two clear eras in a kind of BC/AD way.

6. A film buff will always be more interested in directors than film stars.

7. A true film buff generally does not eat snacks whilst watching films (certainly not popcorn). However, I will be sexist here and say female film buffs might do this, as they are far more capable of multitasking!

8. Wherever possible, a film buff will go and see films in the cinema. Home cinema systems and all their gadgets are all very well, but one can still be disturbed by the phone, front door, neighbours who don’t appreciate the noise, and so forth. Going to the cinema is an escapist ritual (even if one is seeing a gritty realistic drama), and as such is a total immersion experience. One can always rediscover an old favourite on television, but I shudder to think of someone watching the likes of Lawrence of Arabia, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Apocalypse Now, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings for the first time on television.

9. A film buff will be quite anal about where he/she likes to sit in an auditorium. I am quite particular about sitting near the front, and have a favourite seat designated in just about every one of my local screens.

10. A film buff will want to bring back capital punishment for people who let their mobile phones go off during screenings (or worse answer them). In fact, film buffs, normally a fairly pacifistic bunch, can be turned into violent bloodthirsty killers when faced with a disruptive audience.

11. A film buff is not a film critic. Film critics are paid to do a job, whereas film buffs enjoy their movies far more. Critics invariably bring their political slant to movies but a film buff still appreciates the artistry of a film even if they completely disagree with its message (Million Dollar Baby was a recent example of this happening to me).

12. A film buff is not afraid of being labelled a social reject for going to the cinema alone. A film buff decides what they want to see and goes to see it regardless of whether or not anyone else is interested. They might go with friends, but a film buff never goes with a group with a view to deciding what they’ll see when they get there, because inevitably, one person will have seen the good film, so everyone will end up seeing a rubbish one. In fact, a true film buff will often want to go by him/herself, especially to see films like Schindler’s List where it’s nice to have time alone afterwards to collect ones thoughts instead of immediately dishing out half-baked opinions to companions.