The Greatest Trick

Earlier this year, The Kite Runner joined the very short list of books that have made me cry (rubbing shoulders with Birdsong, Watership Down and The Lord of the Rings). Khaled Hosseini’s debut novel is an extraordinary and profoundly moving instant masterpiece of brilliant, old-fashioned storytelling. It is reminiscent of Charles Dickens at his best, particularly Great Expectations, and my expectations for this film adaptation were great indeed. Anything less than an outstanding adaptation was going to be a disappointment.

Unfortunately, that is precisely what I have to report; a disappointment. To be fair this is actually a very good film, but it ought to have been great. In fact, it ought to have matched the emotional power of the book and been added to another very short list – films that have made me cry.

The plot concerns exiled Afghan Amir, now living in America as a novelist. He receives a call from his former mentor Rahim Khan, who informs him enigmatically that “there is a way to be good again”. Flashbacks show Amir as a child in pre-Russian Invasion Kabul, where he lived with his father Baba and their servants Ali and Hassan. Amir and Hassan are best friends, but because they are of the Hazara tribe, Ali and Hassan are viewed with contempt by many in the ruling Pashtun tribe.

Amir is desperate to win the affection of Baba, whom he knows is disappointed in him. Aware of this, Hassan helps Amir to win the annual kite flying tournament, but immediately after their triumph a shocking incident occurs. This changes the course of the rest of their lives as Hassan’s unswerving loyalty and Amir’s cowardice and self-loathing lead to a tragic parting. Shortly afterwards, the Russians invade, and Amir and his father flee the country. Amir grows up in America, marries a girl, Soraya, but all the time is haunted by what happened with Hassan.

What follows is a story of redemption as Amir embarks on a desperate and dangerous journey back into his homeland, which post-Russian invasion is ruled by the Taliban. As he drives through the ravaged landscape, Amir remarks that he feels like a tourist in his own country, to which his driver replies he was always a tourist in his own country, he just didn’t realise it.

Cultural displacement and exile are common themes in recent literature, and the film does a decent job of remaining true to these themes. But The Kite Runner is about so much more. Not only is it a fascinating insight into recent Afghan history but it is a love letter to a country that has been destroyed by, as Baba puts it, those who would control our souls (the mullahs) and those who think we have none (the Communists). Above all, it is a profoundly spiritual story about overcoming fear, making amends for mistakes, confronting the ghosts of the past and putting them to rest. Again, these themes are present in the film, but somehow they don’t resonate as powerfully as they ought. The final section in particular has suffered many cuts and feels rushed. Additionally, whilst the Dickens-esque use of co-incidence in the novel didn’t strike me as a flaw, here it feels like one. Because the film doesn’t achieve the same emotional highs, certain plot elements begin to feel contrived.

Against that, the largely non-professional cast do a very good job. Khalid Abdalla and Zekeria Ebrahimi are both fine as the older and younger Amir respectively. Atossa Leoni does well as Soraya, although her role is somewhat cut down from what it was in the novel. Ahmad Khan Mahmidzada is better as the young Hassan, and better still is Shaun Toub’s Rahim Khan, despite the fact that his character plays a more profound role in the book than comes across on screen.

Best of all is Homayoun Ershadi as Baba, whose difficult relationship with Amir is the one aspect of the story that translates to film with complete success. Baba is a hugely memorable character, who over several decades goes from rich and popular Kabul businessman to broke terminally ill San Francisco garage assistant. Ershadi’s nails the haunted look of a man who knows his country will never be the same. The often comical bitterness he feels towards the Russians and the Taliban are poignantly contrasted by his relationship with Amir (which ironically improves once Baba has lost everything).

It’s difficult to pin down in specific terms exactly where director Marc Forster (who helmed the excellent Finding Neverland) and screenwriter David Benioff go wrong in their adaptation, but I knew the film was in trouble once I became aware of bits I had loved that were being cut. Adaptations of classic novels cut material all the time by necessity, but one vital thing must occur to maintain the greatness of the story: having made the cuts, it is not enough to merely film what is left; it must be converted into cinema. If key sequences are removed, what is left must be so much greater so the audience doesn’t miss what is gone. For instance, compare David Lean’s monumental 1946 adaptation of Great Expectations with the book. How Lean managed to condense such a hefty tome into a less than two hour running time yet perfectly maintain the spirit of the novel is a textbook example of how to adapt for cinema. Peter Jackson’s recent adaptation of The Lord of the Rings is another superb example of this principle. Jackson cut loads from the novel, but what he included was so brilliantly reinvented that Tolkien fanatics, including me, were more than satisfied.

All of which leaves me with something of a dilemma as to whether to endorse The Kite Runner film. On the one hand, I don’t want to recommend it to anyone who hasn’t read the book first since the book is a far richer experience. On the other hand, those who haven’t read the book won’t have such insanely high expectations and will probably appreciate the film more. As for those who have read it, I am sorry to say that in spite of fine efforts by all involved, this is not a masterpiece and therefore by definition a disappointment.

Simon Dillon, December 2007.

It’s that time of year again – my selection of the ten best films of 2007. Before I jump in with the final choices, here are some of the films that fell regrettably by the wayside:

Unexpectedly delightful musical indie-gem Once was too slight to make the selection. On the subject of musicals, Hairspray was a superb reinvention of John Waters’ 1988 film, but again competition for space was too strong. Enchanted was a pleasing Disney blockbuster, but there was only room for a certain other family film.

Westerns did well this year with the excellent and massively underrated 3:10 to Yuma – a rare remake the surpassed the original, and Seraphim Falls, a brilliant revenge western with a pleasingly bonkers supernatural finale. But the shadow of a certain other western loomed over these, causing them to be relegated to honourable mentions only.

Atonement might have been good from an acting/directing perspective, but the narrative problems with the screenplay (possibly inherited from the novel which I’ve not read) meant this was probably my greatest disappointment of the year, especially since I am partial to romantic dramas. The majority of reviewers disagree with me. Perhaps you do too.

Strong dramas such as Notes on a Scandal got the push, as did Mel Gibson’s action-bloodbath-dressed-as-arthouse-film Apocalypto. Zodiac was an intriguing fact-based thriller, and 28 Weeks Later an enjoyable zombie sequel, but neither were shortlisted in the end. Amazing Grace was very good, but from a filmmaking perspective it wasn’t amazing, so no place for it here. The Illusionist was also good, but last years similarly themed The Prestige was miles better. On the sci-fi front, Sunshine did an admirable job, but relied too much on referencing earlier better films to be outstanding in its own right.

There were some fine comedies this year, including Hot Fuzz which was good but not as funny as Shaun of the Dead, hence it too was denied a place. The Kite Runner, which I saw last night (review to follow when I get round to writing it) has also been left out, not because it isn’t a good film but because it wasn’t outstanding, and as anyone who has read this extraordinary book will know, anything less than an outstanding adaptation is a disappointment.

The most excruciating omission was Blood Diamond which I liked more than any of the above.

So, the final list (more or less in the order they came out in the UK):

The Last King of Scotland – A superb, terrifyingly intense Oscar-winning performance from Forest Whitaker dominates this first rate political thriller about Idi Amin’s friendship with a Scottish doctor Nicholas Garrigan (James McAvoy). Brilliantly directed by Kevin MacDonald, especially in the latter half where things get very nasty indeed. I watched the last scenes from between my fingers.

Letters from Iwo Jima – Clint Eastwood’s Oscar nominated companion piece to Flags of our Fathers is so good that it could potentially end up as a war classic. The plight of the Japanese army on Iwo Jima is poignantly explored, with characters that move well beyond the hara-kiri stereotype so often depicted in films of this nature. A brilliant, dramatically satisfying and quietly devastating piece of work.

Becoming Jane – As someone who admires rather than likes Jane Austen, I was pleasantly surprised by this factually dubious but hugely engaging biopic.
There is genuine romantic chemistry between Anne Hathaway and James McAvoy in the lead roles, and excellent support from the likes of James Cromwell and Maggie Smith. Director Julian Jarrod successfully oversees the screenplay’s transition from comedy to melodrama, resulting in an entertaining and moving work.

Das Leben der Anderen (The Lives of Others) – Brilliant, slow-burning surveillance thriller pointedly set in 1984 in which an East German secret policeman has a crisis of conscience. A scathing condemnation of the “if-you’ve-done-nothing-wrong-you’ve-got-nothing-to-fear” argument, this should be compulsory viewing for Gordon Brown, all Labour MPs and anyone else insane enough to think compulsory identity cards are a good idea. The best film of the year by far and a triumph on every artistic level – gripping, blackly comic, tragic, redemptive and profoundly moving with a plethora of moral and spiritual food for thought.

The Bourne Ultimatum – This third entry in the Bourne franchise may not be as good as the first, but it’s still the best action thriller of the year. Matt Damon is on cracking form, and director Paul Greengrass keeps things moving at a relentless pace (though I wish he’d use a tripod occasionally). Standout scenes include the nerve shredding Waterloo station sequence and the brilliantly tense rooftop chase in Tangier.

Knocked Up – This foul-mouthed, smutty but warm-hearted comedy about a couple’s unplanned pregnancy following a one-night stand is what one might term excruciatingly amusing. Some lovely performances, not just from the leads Seth Rogan and Katherine Heigl, but also Paul Rudd and Leslie Mann as a couple whose marriage is on a post-children downward spiral. In spite of the “gross-out” humour, this is likely to strike a chord with any couple who have had a baby; it’s funny because it’s true.

Control – Celebrated photographer Anton Corbijn’s feature film debut is a monochrome gem charting the rise and fall of Joy Division front man Ian Curtis, who committed suicide in 1980 on the eve of their first American tour. The film resolutely ignores any of the glamour associated with the music business and instead revolves around Sam Riley’s superb, tormented performance (both musically and offstage). The terrific supporting cast includes Samantha Morton as Curtis’ put-upon wife who manages to elevate her potentially thankless role beyond the usual stereotypes. Bleak but brilliant.

Ratatouille – Pixar strikes gold again, in director Brad Bird’s tale of a rat that wants to be a gourmet chef. Terrific vocal work from the entire cast, especially Peter O’Toole’s acid-penned food critic Anton Ego. It’s become completely redundant to describe Pixar films as visually stunning, but the animation here evokes wonder beyond any of their previous works. For that and many other reasons, this gets my vote as the best family film of the year.

American Gangster – Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe both contribute excellent performances in this tale of 70’s heroin kingpin Frank Lucas and the man who brought him down. A good solid return to form for director Ridley Scott.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford – Brad Pitt gives a career-best performance as legendary outlaw Jesse James in this epic, brooding, melancholy western, but Casey Affleck’s skin-crawling turn as Robert Ford is even better. Writer/director Andrew Dominik’s deconstruction of the Jesse James mythology also has a cautionary message about hero worship that resonates greatly in our celebrity obsessed culture. The achingly beautiful cinematography demands to be seen on a big screen, and I strongly suspect this will be revered in years to come as a masterpiece.

That’s it – feel free to send your usual arguments.

Some potentially excellent films will vie for our attention in 2008, including No Country for Old Men, Charlie Wilson’s War, There will be blood, Jumper, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, In the valley of Elah, Vantage Point, Cloverfield, The Dark Knight, Prince Caspian and the return of a certain archaeologist who was last seen on the big screen in 1989. I shall, as ever, attempt to separate the wheat from the chaff.

Happy New Year (almost).

Simon Dillon, December 2007.

So much has been said and written about Blade Runner that I wonder what I can contribute to add something fresh. On the other hand, the re-release of this genuine science fiction masterpiece on the big screen (and on DVD) is a superb excuse to launch into a lengthy analysis of what is unquestionably one of my all-time favourite films.

In case you have been living under a rock for the past twenty five years, Blade Runner is based on a short story by Phillip K Dick set in the future where humans have created android replicants to use as slaves. These replicants look exactly like humans and are programmed to emulate human responses. The manufacturers, the Tyrell corporation, have programmed replicants to shut down after four years because they begin to develop self-awareness. However, this doesn’t stop them from going haywire from time to time, and special police units, called Blade Runners, were created to specialise in tracking down replicants that had gone AWOL.

Harrison Ford plays Deckard, a Blade Runner charged with tracking down four missing replicants led by Roy (Rutger Hauer in his best-ever role). The replicants are attempting to meet their creator, Tyrell, to ask for more life. But as Deckard hunts them, he becomes as emotionally unstable and out of control as the replicants themselves, and begins to question the morality of his actions.

On the level of visual achievement alone, this is a landmark in cinema. The bleak, fiery, rain-sodden cityscapes of Los Angeles in 2019 practically invented how the future looked in every cinematic vision of the future that followed. But it isn’t just the flying cars, futuristic buildings and enormous digital billboards that make it seem futuristic. It’s also the presence of outdated, run-down crumbling buildings and cumbersome technology (such as the Void Kampt test) that add authenticity. As time passes, several items thought advanced in 1982 seem strangely retro, which actually supports the plot since most humans have left Earth to colonise other worlds. Only those rejected for medical or other reasons have been left behind. It seems only fitting that out of date, rejected technology also remain with them.

Every element of the film – from Ridley Scott’s meticulous direction to Vangelis innovative music score – remains as stunning as ever. Although the pace is slow it is never boring, and the screenplay is really little more than a hook to engage the audience as it loses itself in the visually stunning techno nightmare. In particular, the now classic “time to die” scene remains as oddly moving and unforgettable as ever, and the shot of the dove being released is one of the most beautifully potent images in cinema history.

There is also an endless web of moral and spiritual debate one can get tangled in. With discussions about life, death, dreams, reality and what it means to be human, Blade Runner is a feast for the mind. And that’s without mentioning the provocative use of Christ imagery and insights into what motivates good and evil in the human soul, not to mention whether replicants have a soul. As you can see, I’m tying myself up in knots even attempting to skim over the dense plethora of food for thought contained within the film.

Blade Runner has had a long and curious history. After disastrous previews, the studio insisted explanatory narration be added by Harrison Ford (giving the film peculiar, Phillip Marlowe-esque overtones), and a ludicrously upbeat ending was spliced in, using outtakes from The Shining. It was then released to largely negative reviews and failed at the box office. At the time, most of the public were used to the upbeat output of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg and couldn’t handle Ridley Scott’s bleak dystopian vision.

However, once released on video, Blade Runner gradually attained a fervent cult following, to the point where critics began to re-evaluate the film. Rumours of the original ambiguous ending and a missing unicorn dream sequence began to surface among the films devotees. The rumours persisted and over time this alternative version –particularly the unicorn scene – attained a mythical, Holy Grail like status. But calls for a release of the original version fell on deaf ears, since the studio insisted the footage was lost or destroyed.

Then, in the early 1990s, a previously unseen cut was accidentally shown at a festival (the studio had apparently sent it in error thinking they were supplying a standard print). The atmosphere was electric as Blade Runner fans came running from the screening proclaiming news of a version that didn’t contain the voiceover and also featured several previously unseen sequences, including the now legendary unicorn dream. When Ridley Scott finally took a look at the print, he concluded this was a “work-in-progress” cut. From that, he fashioned a new version which included the enigmatic unicorn scene (which hints that Deckard may also be a replicant). Obviously the unnecessary voiceover and happy ending were binned. Blade Runner: the Director’s cut was released in 1992, and this time it was finally acknowledged by critics and the general public as a science fiction classic. Over the next decade it became more revered than ever, but Ridley Scott, ever the perfectionist, was still irritated by continuity errors and one or two other nits. Hence why audiences are now being asked to shell out again for this new, supposedly definitive version.

So how does this version differ? Well, the final cut is actually best thought of as a very, very good restoration of the director’s cut. There are no new scenes, just the odd new shot, and a little nip and tuck tightening the pace near the beginning. The original negative has been digitally remastered to within an inch of its life, ensuring the clarity and resolution of the new version is nothing less than astounding. In addition one or two continuity errors have been corrected, and some censored violent shots, some of which were removed from the director’s cut, have now been restored. Surprisingly, this extra gore actually improves the film, particularly in the already stunningly powerful scene where Roy confronts his maker, Tyrell.

Is it worth paying to see again? Definitely – if you are lucky enough to be near one of the few cinemas in the country currently playing it. I would happily accept any excuse to watch Blade Runner on the big screen, irrespective of which version is on offer, and in the past I have done so on no less than four separate occasions. But regardless of whether or not you can feasibly view it at the cinema, if you’ve never seen it then there really is absolutely no excuse. Make watching this visually astounding masterpiece your top priority, whatever format you view it in.

Simon Dillon, December 2007.

Every so often I am forced to eat my words. After seeing trailers for Enchanted I thought it looked dreadful. I have a cordial dislike for obvious post-modernism in films and prefer my fairy tales served straight, without any nods and winks. However, after viewing it, I am forced, through gritted teeth, to admit that this is a genuinely charming family film and a triumphant return to form for Disney after years of downright mediocre output (Pixar animations notwithstanding).

Of course, sending up fairytales is nothing new. Most notably the Shrek films have gleefully and sometimes annoyingly spoofed the likes of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and others. But here it’s almost as though director Kevin Lima and screenwriter Bill Kelly are saying Disney can spoof their own products far more effectively – especially in a scene near the start involving a troll that looks suspiciously like Shrek.

Speaking of the opening, the film launches into a Snow White type story in an animated world with Princess Giselle (Amy Adams) awaiting her true love. Prince Edward (James Marsden) is searching for her, but a wicked queen, Narcissa (Susan Sarandon), is trying to keep them apart. This sequence is a deliberately syrupy, exaggerated version of classic Disney animated fare, but once Narcissa tricks Giselle and sends her to another world that turns out to be a live-action present day New York, the story takes an altogether different turn.

Giselle is soon helped by cynical, broken-hearted divorce lawyer Robert Phillip (Patrick Dempsey) and his six year old daughter Morgan (Rachel Covey – just the right side of too cute). Much hilarity ensues, as Giselle calls birds, rodents etc to clean up his apartment a la Snow White. In the meantime, Prince Edward has also entered New York, determined to track down Giselle, with a talking chipmunk who finds he cannot talk in our world, and Edward’s sidekick Nathaniel (Timothy Spall), who is secretly in league with Narcissa.

From there, things develop predictably but amusingly. There are several extremely funny one-liners, especially from the excellent James Marsden, whose hysterical performance is the best thing in the film. The rest of the cast are all good, although Susan Sarandon is underused.

Morally, Enchanted seems to have a two-fold message. First, romance is important. Robert’s relationship with his girlfriend Nancy (Idina Menzel) is in difficulty because he isn’t doing anything romantic to keep it alive. Furthermore, because he has previously been unlucky in love, Robert inflicts his bitterness on Morgan by buying her books about great women in history like Margaret Thatcher instead of the fairy stories she wants (of which he disapproves). Over the course of the film, he learns from Giselle that dreams can come true and it is possible to have a “happily ever after”.

Secondly, this is about having realistic expectations from a relationship. Giselle learns from Robert that it might actually be a good idea to get to know Edward before committing to marry him. She also learns that it’s no good to continually have one’s head in the clouds, and that real life can be hard. These dual themes are best summed up in a scene where two peripheral characters who had been going to divorce decide not to after encountering Giselle. There is no point missing out on the good times just because there are some tough times.

On a technical level, the special effects are good, including the CG animals. Alan Menken’s music and songs are good too, recalling his heyday in the early 1990’s animated Disney movies. Interestingly, upon arrival in New York, the film cleverly and seamlessly switches from standard screen size (1:85:1 aspect ratio) to widescreen (2:35:1 aspect ratio).

Only at the finale does the film come somewhat unstuck as a couple of key characters – including Edward – are sidelined. It could also be argued that the inevitably sugary happy ending was perhaps a bit too saccharine, but hey – it’s Disney, and we’re all entitled to a bit of sappiness, especially at Christmas.

No masterpiece then, but far more satisfying than The Golden Compass. Do your children a favour and take them to see this instead – not so much because The Golden Compass is spiritually abhorrent but because Enchanted is a much better film.

Simon Dillon, December 2007.

It’s been a vintage year for westerns. Not only have we had the hugely underrated Seraphim Falls and 3:10 to Yuma remake but also The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford – unquestionably the greatest contribution to the genre since Unforgiven, and a potential classic. Haunting, elegiac and staggeringly beautiful, this is one of the most visually stunning films in recent memory. Writer/director Andrew Dominik has crafted a mesmerising tapestry of unforgettable and often unique imagery in his bold retelling of the Jesse James story.

It is worth noting from the outset that this is not a film for everyone. It has been criticized in certain quarters for being long, ponderous and dull. Frankly, I feel sorry for anyone who feels that way, as they really don’t know what they are missing. Yes, the pace is slow, but it’s never boring. Patience is required but those who stick with it will be richly rewarded. Personally, I was riveted right up to its superb final frame and came away wanting more, despite its 160 minute running time.

Robert Ford (Casey Affleck), who has idolized Jesse James (Brad Pitt) since childhood, tries hard to join his gang. But when the eponymous outlaw decides to disband his Missouri outfit following one last train robbery, his gradual deterioration into melancholy and paranoia leads to tragedy. Ford becomes increasingly resentful, and his hero worship turns sour, eventually leading to the legendary killing summarised in the film’s title.

Essentially it’s not so much what happens but how it happens that makes this film so remarkable. It’s held together by superb, Oscar-worthy turns from the leads. Brad Pitt gives a career-best performance which strips back the Jesse James legend and portrays him as a charismatic but tormented man haunted by a life of crime. His brooding silences, childish giggling and sudden outbursts of frightening violence make him terrifyingly unpredictable. Yet sympathy for the character is still generated through his love for his wife and children, not to mention audience knowledge that he is doomed. The ambiguous, haunted look in Pitt’s eyes hints that he knows this too.

On the other hand, Casey Affleck is just as good as Robert Ford, if not better. In his very first scene, Jesse’s elder brother Frank (Sam Shepard) says to Ford “there’s something about you that makes my skin crawl”. Affleck ensures his character is genuinely creepy and his descent into disillusionment is utterly convincing. He by turns loves hates and is terrified by his idol. At one point, Jesse says to him “I can’t make up my mind if you want to be like me or to be me.” Ford’s obsession is such that there are also hints of a homo-erotic subtext.

The supporting cast are all given opportunities to shine, including Mary Louise Parker as Jesse’s wife Zee. The other members of Jesse’s gang all get plenty of screen time too. Sam Rockwell is terrific as Ford’s comparatively sensible older brother Charley, Jeremy Renner’s Wood Hite is suitably tough and Garret Dillahunt takes Ed Miller beyond the initial simpleton stereotype and generates considerable sympathy for the character. Paul Schneider has a memorable turn as Dick Liddil whose womanising causes divisions within the gang that end in murder, and Hugh Ross’ narration is spot-on.

As I’ve already mentioned, this is an absolutely gorgeous film to look at. Roger Deakins’ phenomenal widescreen cinematography often uses a superb blurring effect around the edges of shots, giving the film the hazy feel of a half remembered dream. The magnificent vistas include desolate snow covered plains, forests, mountains, sepia-hued towns interspersed by convincingly muddy roads and a stunningly vivid image of a train appearing out of total darkness as it approaches the silhouetted figure of Jesse James. On a technical level, everything else from the use of sound to the crisp editing is nigh-on perfect, and the music by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis compliments the drama perfectly (Cave also scored recent Aussie western The Proposition to terrific effect).

Although The Assassination of Jesse James contains themes common to westerns, such as criminals whose pasts finally catch up with them, it is also, like Unforgiven, a deconstruction of western mythology. One early scene shows members of Jesse’s gang laughing at Ford’s expense after discovering a stash of penny dreadful Jesse James books under his bed. Ford is mortified, but remains every bit as infatuated. This gives the film additional resonance in our celebrity obsessed culture and on a spiritual level is something of an understated but powerful warning about the dangers of idolatry.

In final analysis, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is a bleak, brooding but magnificent film that absolutely has to be seen on a big screen to be properly appreciated. It was actually released a couple of weeks ago and has not been a big hit, so see it now before it disappears from cinemas.

Oh, and for those who appreciate warnings about such things, the film contains some strong violence, occasional swearing and what the BBFC calls “sexual references”.

Simon Dillon, December 2007.

Whether Once warrants being seen more than once remains to be seen, but based on one viewing, I was quite impressed. It’s the kind of film where you leave the cinema thinking it wasn’t anything particularly special, but then can’t stop thinking about it and realise that perhaps it was a little bit special after all.

Essentially, it’s a modern-day musical about an Irish busker and a Czech immigrant who meet by chance and are immediately drawn together through a mutual love of music. As a result, over the following week they write, rehearse and record songs that provide the commentary on their relationship. We find out very little about these two characters, not even their names (they are listed in the credits simply as “Guy” and “Girl”). However, it is clear they are both down on their luck as a result of previous relationships. Obviously in a Hollywood production, true love would conquer all, and they would go on to become a huge singing/songwriting success.

But Once is a micro-budget Irish film, and as such writer/director John Carnard’s strength is his refusal to tie up loose ends in a neat bundle. The deliberately rough-around-the-edges screenplay has the ebb and flow of real life and it studiously avoids clichés not just around the unrequited love story but also its peripheral themes (such as immigration). Marketa Irglova and Glen Hansard are both superb as Girl and Guy respectively, and the supporting cast do very well in their small roles, especially Bill Hodnet as Guy’s warm-hearted Dad. In fact, throughout the duration of this small gem, the audience isn’t introduced to even one unpleasant character – even the drug addict who tries to steal Guy’s busking money.

There are a few funny bits; especially near the beginning where Girl trails after Guy with her broken hoover trying to get him to fix it (she discovers he has a job at his Dad’s hoover repair shop). However, the key moments in the film are of course the songs, which are generally angst-ridden indie folk ballads. But even if that kind of music isn’t your scene, don’t be put off. One of the film’s joys is watching the progression of the music – from Guy roughly bellowing out numbers on a street corner using his falling-to-pieces guitar, to the slick recording in the studios near the end. The musically inclined will obviously appreciate this more than others, but even if you have no musical ability whatsoever, the process will capture your interest because the plight of the protagonists is one of universal resonance.

Its short – under 90 minutes – and certainly seems simple, but it gets under the skin in a Brief Encounter kind of way, and apart from some strong language is a joy for the eye and ear. In short, it’s a lovely little film and well worth a look. By the way, apologies for the lateness of this review since this film came out over a month ago.

Simon Dillon, December 2007.

As a connoisseur of fantasy fiction, I have a love/hate relationship with Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials. The books are an astounding feat of imagination; brilliantly written, thrilling, funny, comic, tragic, endlessly thought provoking, and deeply moving. Not since The Lord of the Rings has there been such a monumental work of literary brilliance in this genre. The sheer scale and imagination of these novels cannot be denied.

However, it is only from a purely aesthetic standpoint that I can admire His Dark Materials. Morally and spiritually they are completely abhorrent, all the more so for being aimed at children. Whatever concerns one might have had about the Harry Potter series pale into insignificance in comparison with the secular humanism, atheism, and outright lies about God and Christianity propagated by this hugely powerful and insidiously deceptive work.

The title of the first instalment in the His Dark Materials trilogy was originally Northern Lights, but it was changed to The Golden Compass for US release by the same publicist who changed Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone to Sorcerer’s Stone (apparently believing Americans wouldn’t know what a philosopher was). The Golden Compass is an equally silly title, since the object in question is neither golden nor a compass. It is, in fact, an Ouija-board type fortune telling device called an aletheiometer used by Lyra, the heroine of the story.

Lyra is a twelve year old girl living in a parallel version of the world we know, but with some uniquely bizarre differences. By far the most profound difference is that each human is permanently accompanied by their own “daemon” – a kind of spiritual animal intended to represent their souls. The animal the daemon takes the form of depends on the individual’s character, but children’s daemon’s are not yet fixed and constantly change until puberty.

Lyra’s life under the care of Oxford scholars is disrupted when she inadvertently saves her uncle, the enigmatic Lord Asriel, from assassination. This propels her on a thrilling adventure, as she runs away to the Arctic to rescue her friend Roger who has been captured by the mysterious Gobblers, agents of the church who are kidnapping children for use in experiments in an attempt to eliminate original sin. Along the way she gets help from a rich variety of characters including nomadic boating gyptians, witches and armoured polar bear warriors. But sinister forces are at work to try and thwart her quest, led by the icily evil Mrs Coulter.

Director Chris Weitz (best known for About a Boy) has the unenviable task of attempting to create a half-decent cinematic rendering the first instalment of Pullman’s trilogy, and as such does an adequate job. Unfortunately, a film of this nature shouldn’t be merely adequate, it should be superb. Although most of the novel’s touchstone events are present, many key emotional moments have been irritatingly skimmed over.

On the plus side, newcomer Dakota Blue Richards carries the film well as Lyra, along with the excellent Freddie Highmore voicing her daemon Pantalaimon. The rest of the cast are also good, albeit in roles that amount to little more than sequel-teasing cameos; from Daniel Craig’s Lord Asriel to Ian McKellen’s Iorek (an armoured bear). Eva Green, Sam Elliot, Derek Jacobi, Kirsten Scott Thomas, Kathy Bates, Ian McShane, Tom Courtenay, and even good old Christopher Lee keep things moderately interesting. Best of all is Nicole Kidman as the chilling Mrs Coulter, a character who ranks alongside classic fantasy villains like the Wicked Witch of the West or Darth Vader (in the novels at least). The special effects, cinematography, music and sound effects are all of a reasonably high standard but again, it’s nowhere near as groundbreaking or dynamic as it should be, perhaps because it wasn’t helmed by a maverick director like Peter Jackson.

Ironically secularists have criticised this adaptation because it doesn’t have the nerve to wear its agenda as openly on its sleeve. For example, the evil church is not called the church as in the books. Instead it’s called the Magisterium (perhaps because the studio knew a mainstream family film where the “church” is the villain will not play in Middle America). Most significantly, the final act of the novel has been axed, thus loosing the hugely significant tragic ending where Pullman’s anti-God worldview really begins to take shape in preparation for the subsequent novels.

This is bad news for two reasons. First, from a purely artistic point of view, it dilutes the power of the story and removes the entire point of the first book. Stories are about ideas and however vehemently I disagree with Philip Pullman, I have to admit that his story is far less effective with his iconoclastic views watered down. Secondly, it actually makes the film more dangerous since some Christians will watch, wonder what all the fuss was about, and then let their children read the books, or watch the second and third films if they are made, where Pullman’s views will become impossible to ignore.

Northern Lights – sorry, The Golden Compass – has always been the least theologically dubious segment of the His Dark Materials saga, and as I have explained the film version has been emasculated to a degree. However, many objectionable elements remain. Although the daemon idea is ingenious, it is no mistake that Pullman chose to use that deliberately provocative word. Mrs Coulter and the villains are attempting to sever children from their daemons in an effort to destroy sin. The parallel with Christians casting out demons is undeniable, and as an anti-exorcism allegory, it is a powerful piece of anti-Christian propaganda. This becomes particularly important in later novels when original sin becomes linked with sexual attraction. Christians are not anti-sex, but Pullman wants readers to believe they are, and does so by linking them with such barbaric practises as female circumcision. Here’s a quote from the second book, The Subtle Knife, where a witch is attempting to rally other witch clans to unite against the church:

“There are churches there, believe me, that cut their children too, as the people of Bolvangar did—not in the same way, but just as horribly. They cut their sexual organs, yes, both boys and girls; they cut them with knives so that they shan’t feel. That is what the church does, and every church is the same: control, destroy, obliterate every good feeling.”

It is also interesting how atheists have no problem with dabbling in the occult because they believe it is simply a way of increasing human potential. All manner of occult practises are endorsed in Pullman’s universe, from witchcraft to fortune telling and more. Lyra and the heroes are allied with witches who are fighting the church. Lyra also reads the aletheiometer because she believes it tells her what she should do, and it is through this device that shadow particles (later revealed to be “Dust” or fallen angels) communicate with her. Again, this is an interesting allegory of tarot cards or Ouija boards, and apparently Pullman agrees that demons can communicate with people through such things, but unlike Christians, he thinks this is good.

Leaving aside the obvious theological wrongs of this story (which get far worse in books two and three) it’s also worth pointing out that the books are too frightening and violent for most children in any case. The film obviously had to show restraint in order to get commercially viable ratings, but even non-Christian parents would be well-advised to think carefully before taking anyone under about ten.

Obviously for Christians, such issues are the least of their concerns. It is extremely rare for me to say this (I certainly don’t have the same problem with Harry Potter for example), but Pullman’s masterpiece is truly indefensible from a Christian perspective. Unlike The Lord of the Rings, which is overflowing with positive moral and spiritual content and a solid Biblical worldview, the exact opposite is true of His Dark Materials. How then should the church respond? Should we boycott the film or demand it gets banned? I don’t think so. Such book-burning attempts only make Christians look foolish, and give the film the extra oxygen of controversy. Instead, I recommend quietly but firmly ensuring one’s children are not exposed to this as far as is reasonably possible (which will of course depend on the age and temperament of one’s children). Not because, as some ludicrously claim, we fear these stories will somehow bring down God or the church, but because it is every Christian parent’s duty to build up their children’s faith, not expose them to things that could tear it down before it’s had a chance to become firm. All of us will answer to God on the Day of Judgement for what we have allowed our children to read or watch – a sobering thought.

From here on, I am going to discuss events at the end of the story and in the later novels to expound on why I consider this trilogy so profoundly and dangerously anti-Christian, so consider this a spoiler warning to those adults not dissuaded from watching or reading further.

It’s all very well saying this is a fantasy context, but Pullman has deliberately crafted characters designed to appeal to the PC brigade and infuriate not only Christians but all of monotheistic faith including Jews and Muslims. What is maddening is that anyone with a basic knowledge of Christianity would soon realise the “church” of the novels is nothing like the real life church. However, in such Biblically ignorant times, one cannot expect children to see it this way. My father is a semi-retired English teacher and was recently appalled at how one of his students, a sixteen year old girl, had never heard of Adam and Eve. It is therefore not outside the realms of possibility for children to read these books and think they are an accurate reflection of church doctrine.

In the final act of Northern Lights/The Golden Compass (crucially omitted from the film version), things go from bad to worse when Lord Asriel’s true intentions are revealed, and Lyra is essentially asked to choose between two sets of child killers. Asriel severs Roger from his daemon in order to create a rift between worlds, and enable his army to wage war on “the Authority” (ie God). On the other hand, the church wants to sever children from the daemons in order to eradicate original sin. In all cases when children are violently cut from their daemons, they die.

As the novels progress, the differences between good and evil are continually blurred until they are virtually non-existent. Lying is seen as a positive and endearing character trait. One character that refuses to be unfaithful to his wife and have an affair with a witch is told he has made a terrible mistake and is later killed for this. This isn’t the only time adultery is seen as a positive thing, and it is ultimately revealed that Lord Asriel murdered Mrs Coulter’s husband because he was having an affair with her. Speaking of murder, this and many other killings are glossed over. There is no source to the evil, the devil is conspicuously absent from all the books, and eventually Pullman concludes, in typically humanistic terms, that there is no good or evil, only things people do that are either beneficial or not.

The second novel, The Subtle Knife, introduces the character of Will, a twelve year old boy from our world, who has accidentally become a murderer. He meets up with Lyra, and they procure a weapon called the Subtle Knife that can cut anything. It can not only divide matter at the sub-atomic level but it can also cut rifts between different parallel universes, and ultimately, it can be used to destroy the Authority. Asriel knows of this weapon and is determined to acquire it so he can kill God. Allied with Asriel are the fallen angels who lost in the original war in heaven. This time however, it appears they have a chance to win.

In the final novel, The Amber Spyglass, it is revealed that God was not God at all, but evolved from the mysterious “Dust” as the first angel. This angel then supposedly lied to the other angels, saying he was God, and forcing the rest to worship him. He also is revealed to have cruelly subjugated humanity, using his agents in the church in the various parallel worlds. Bizarrely, more than anything, he seems to want to ruin everyone’s sex life. Speaking of which, it is only when Lyra and Will fall in love and – it is strongly hinted – have sexual intercourse, that the universe is saved from destruction. This controversial portrayal of pre-teen sexuality is given pseudo-Biblical overtones as Lyra is referred to throughout as “the second Eve” and those fighting God and the church say it is vital that she “fall” (ie lose her virginity). On the subject of sex, there are also a couple of gay angels on the side of Lord Asriel, so this is another area in which Pullman is able to take pot-shots at the church.

I must reiterate that this bizarre, heady brew of religion and quantum physics is hugely imaginative, superbly written and page-turningly gripping, but obviously its portrayal of God is out-and-out blasphemous. It’s interesting that this is a specifically anti-Catholic work, as one villain of the story punishes himself so as to gain “pre-emptive absolution” for a murder he has yet to commit, and obviously this stems from a bizarre reworking of the Catholic traditions of confession and penance.

Philip Pullman is on record to say he hates the Narnia stories and CS Lewis’ Christian worldview. He strongly criticised The Last Battle, and in his opinion, when Peter, Lucy, Edmund and their family die in the train crash at the end, death comes as a reward because they go to heaven. He says it is one of the most irresponsible pieces of literature he has ever read, because it makes children believe in an afterlife where they are reunited with their loved ones in paradise, and good and evil receive the rewards they deserve.

His Dark Materials by contrast shows that all people, good or evil, end up in the same place. Christians who die, believing they will go to heaven, are shattered when they realise they have ended up alongside murderers, criminals and so on. Pullman takes this opportunity to expound his firm belief that the physical world is all we have, so we had best enjoy it whilst we can and take all opportunities to indulge every whim of the flesh. This of course explains his attitude to things like adultery in the previous books. “The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake, that’s all,” one character muses in The Amber Spyglass.

It is only when the dead tell their stories to the harpies that inhabit the underworld that they are allowed to disintegrate and their atoms become at one with the universe. Such a depressing end, where there is no God or justice – just an airy-fairy New Age “become-one-with-the-cosmos” – is a monumentally hideous lie to inflict on impressionable children. But Pullman tries to have it both ways. In The Subtle Knife, a witch whose time has come is stabbed in a mercy killing (another practice that Christians condemn), and her passing into the next world is seen as a great blessing. In other words, she is rewarded with death. Pullman has created his own version of what he hated in The Last Battle.

In working through his issues, Pullman uses certain characters including Will as a mouthpiece, particularly towards the end of The Amber Spyglass, and as such it becomes very tedious and preachy amid the undeniable brilliance. His atheistic beliefs are so strong that I believe a genuine spirit of deception, similar to what guided The Da Vinci Code, is behind them, only this time aimed specifically at children. Of course the Bible is clear that we do not fight flesh and blood, and I do not believe that Pullman is aware he is being used in this respect. He is apparently sincere in his belief that he is a voice of reason, and certainly much of what he says in interviews regarding the misuse of power and examples of religious oppression throughout history (and today) is absolutely correct. However, perhaps it is not just a lack of belief in God, but a lack of belief in the devil that has led him to conclude that God – if he did exist – is directly responsible for things like the Spanish Inquisition, Islamic fundamentalism and so forth. Therefore, it is my sincere prayer that Philip Pullman one day discovers how much the true God loves him and how the devil has used him. Hopefully then he will be given a chance to undo the damage he has done.

And for those who don’t believe in the power of films or books to change people and think I’m overreacting, Pullman himself would take issue with you. “All stories teach,” he said in one interview, “whether the storyteller intends them to or not. They teach the world we create. They teach the morality we live by. They teach it much more effectively than moral precepts and instructions. … We don’t need lists of rights and wrongs, tables of do’s and don’ts: We need books, time and silence. ‘Thou shalt not’ is soon forgotten.”

I recently saw an interview with a young teenage girl who after reading these Pullman’s trilogy decided she no longer believed in God. Again, I can only reiterate Mark chapter 9: “And if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a large millstone tied around his neck.” When I saw this interview, I felt heartbroken and angry that just one person had believed the appalling lies perpetuated by His Dark Materials.

Simon Dillon, December 2007.