Author: nlclement

Mr. Turner is an exquisitely made movie, and on an aesthetic level, it’s a work that consistently leaves one in awe over it’s spellbinding use of color, light, and texture. But I have to be honest – I found this movie to be dry-dry-dry, and while that’s not a terrible thing per se (it’s hardly uninteresting), had it not been for the overwhelming cinematography, I might have not been as engaged to the mildly repetitious narrative. Timothy Spall is indeed fantastic in this film, all primal sweaty and completely ensconced in his role, but the absurd amount of grunting and strange-noise emitting became distracting if not hilarious by the mid point of this two hour and 30 minute film. And make no mistake about it — subtitles were REQUIRED while watching this film on Blu-ray. I’ve watched a lot of British/Irish films before with thick accents — but some of the lines, as spoken by numerous members of the cast (Spall included), were utterly incomprehensible to my ear. So that was sort of an annoyance, because the last thing I want to be doing while watching a film as absurdly gorgeous as this one, is to be reading text dialogue at the bottom of the screen. Leigh is a master filmmaker, there’s clearly no question about that, and this film is miles from something like Happy-Go-Lucky or half-dozen other entries from his diverse and spectacular resume, further reinforcing the notion that he’s a filmmaker capable of telling almost any type of story. But for me, this was the Dick Pope show all the way, as he conjured up one obscenely photographed sequence after another, demonstrating a tactile understanding of how to merge Turner’s lush and evocative paintings into a fully alive piece of cinema, allowing the brushstrokes from Turner’s canvass to spill out into the frame, thus turning the entire film into a living, breathing cinematic painting.

One of the best things I’ve done all year is get to know the work of Paul Mazursky better, and Blume in Love, the first film where he was the solo writer as well as director, is easily one of the finest films I’ve seen from him yet. Resembling a series of memories, all hazy and restless and sudden and abrupt, this is a magnificent piece of storytelling, with Mazursky’s usual and amazingly perceptive emphasis on the human condition firmly in place. I loved Bruce Surtees’ constantly searching and intimate cinematography, and don’t get me started over how the film begins and ends with the same shot – brilliant! George Segal turned in a challenging and deeply complex performance; the rape sequence in the third act changes the film in a very unique and startling way. Susan Anspach delivered a fantastic, multifaceted piece of acting as a woman torn between intense feelings of love and rage, while Marsha Mason, in her screen debut, was able to paint a convincing and potent portrait of “the other woman,” something she’d be asked to do more than a few times in her career. And I must say, she really enjoyed taking her top off during her heyday! Some of the best scenes of the film involve Kris Kristofferson’s stoner lay-about, as he hooks up with Anspach after she and Segal divorce (due to his cavalier infidelity), and then becomes odd-couple friends with Segal in the most humorous of ways. Mazursky was always interested in people, in faces, in how we all interact and view the world, and I loved how this entire film felt like some sort of scattershot dream, complete with Segal’s stream of consciousness voice over. And I’ll always marvel how films from the 70’s had such an observant style, with shots looking off from the distance, allowing dialogue to be overlapped with images not containing the speaking actors, not to mention how films from the 70’s just STARTED, with no handholding or babying you through the first act. Bill Conti’s score is peppy in spots, pensive in others, and underscores the narrative without overpowering anything on screen. There’s so much casual humor in this film which keeps it from being as depressing as some of the narrative truly is, and Segal carries such an aching, wounded heart, that the film feels caught between sympathizing with him while also scorning him for his thoughtless, sometimes sickening behavior. I wonder how audiences reacted to “the big scene” in Blume in Love, the bit between Segal and Anspach which, on one hand, seems like a pretty obvious example of rape, but then, upon further contemplation (and post-film discussion), I don’t know what to feel, especially since critics at the time seemed to think nothing of it. All I know is – that scene NEVER makes it in a modern film. Whatever it was, it was another indication of Mazursky acknowledging the possibility for human failing, and while not condoning the behavior, it’s clear that he understood how two people could find themselves in that situation, with the same outcome, with the same set of shifting feelings. What a phenomenal piece of work that I can only assume will linger long in my memory banks.

Gritty direction from the underrated filmmaker James Crowley (Boy A, Closed Circuit, the upcoming Brooklyn). Witty and mean screenplay by Mark O’Rowe that folds over on itself without suffering massive contrivances and features genuinely nasty characters who we still, at times, have sympathy for. A terrific ensemble cast led by Colm Meaney, Cillian Murphy, Colin Farrell, Shirley Henderson, and David Wilmot. A yowsa(!) Kelly Macdonald = drool. Corker of an ending. Energy and style to spare. Love the Irish locales and the rough-and-tumble cinematography by Ryszard Lenczewski (Ida, Margaret). Much like Crowley’s unforgettable drama Boy A, Intermission has edge and smarts, and is due for reconsideration.

Martin Scorsese’s The Departed is knock-out entertainment. Yes, he’s made better movies. But this one is just terrific on so many levels. William Monahan’s flamboyantly vulgar screenplay popped in every scene, and the performances from the deep cast were all wild and crazy and unhinged and robust. Maybe too robust in the Jack Nicholson department, but hey, if he wants to bring a bag of sex-toys to the set why not let him!? I love the violence in this movie, the cynical nature of the narrative, the final beats with Whlberg and Damon, that fucking rat scurrying over the window sill, but what really keeps bringing me back to this movie whenever I pass it by on the HD movie channels is the salty, profane dialogue that feels like masculine poetry when put into context with the cop genre. A sly and smart updating of 2002’s Infernal Affairs, The Departed allowed Scorsese to just sit back and have a ball with a bloody, nasty genre piece, made without epic pretense, instead focusing on the intimate nature of a criminal organization and undercover cops, while also allowing for smart character moments to shine through. Vera Farmiga was super sharp and oh-so-sexy in this film, and I love her pointed scenes with an impotent Damon — hilarious! Craft contributions from Howard Shore, Michael Ballhaus, and Thelma Schoonmacher were all ace. Wahlberg doing a zipper-mouth-fart on Sheen’s desk in response to Leo’s reference of Hawthorne POWER, Baldwin Patriot Act POWER, and James Badge Dale outta nowhere at the end POWER.   

Tilda Swinton’s hypnotic, bravura performance in Erick Zonca’s twisty, lurid and passionately directed indie kidnapping drama Julia is one of the most fearless pieces of acting I’ve come across. She tears into her damaged-goods role with such gusto and force that the film itself seems to be exploding with energy, frustration, and hostility. This is an expressionistic piece of filmmaking, with dreamy cinematography by Yorick Le Saux (Swimming Pool, Clouds of Sils Maria) that’s mixed with rough editing patterns by Philippe Kotlarski, leaving the audience in a jittery state of paranoia and unease. There’s nothing rational about this exceedingly intense film, but that’s sort of the point – Zonca has created a loose-cannon character who never thinks about the consequences of her actions. And when she’s forced to get serious, too many mistakes have been made for her to ever feel normal. Swinton loves playing unlikable characters, and with her titular performance in Julia, she painted a portrait of a sleazy, morally bankrupt woman who thinks nothing of endangering a child, let alone the dangerous. potentially lethal ramifications that come with her skewed sense of logic. This is an edgy, oddly sexy, deeply unique film that further demonstrates how marvelous Swinton is as a performer.

I Am Love is a film that, yet again, showcases a fearless, go-for-broke performance from Tilda Swinton, who is easily one of my favorite actresses currently working. And if you’ve ever wanted to hear he speak fluent Italian with a Russian accent, this film is for you! I Am Love is a sensual, sexual, lyrical piece of filmmaking from Italian director Luca Guadagnino, who in tandem with the brilliant cinematographer Yorick Le Saux conjured up a dreamy, tremendously stylized motion picture that literally feels like a living, breathing entity. Conceived over an 11 year period by Swinton and Guadagnino, the film is all about how unbridled passion can get in the way of almost anything and everything, and how the primal instincts that run through our bones, heart, and lower regions can sometimes not be contained, no matter how hard one tries. Music from the classical composer John Adams fills the background, giving off a rarefied vibe, while Swinton plows through the juicy narrative with so much force and command that it’s impossible not to be mesmerized by her every move. Antonella Cannarozzi’s costumes are spectacular, feeding into the overly-moneyed thematic subtext, and while the film certainly dips into melodrama, Guadagnino isn’t content to let anyone off easy, while also imbuing his film with tips to The Godfather. As with any story that is propelled by a torrid affair, there’s real heat in this film, and Swinton, ever the chameleonic artist, slips into her tricky role with so much elegance that you just can’t help but be blown away by her natural sense as an actress.

Veteran production designer and art director Charles William Breen has had an extraordinary career working on some of the most popular and long lasting films from the last 35 years. His extensive list of credits includes early career work on Ridley Scott’s masterpiece Blade Runner, Mike Nichols’ drama Postcards from the Edge, Richard Attenborough’s ambitious biopic Chaplin, James Cameron’s seminal science-fiction classic Terminator 2, Clint Eastwood’s blockbuster romance The Bridges of Madison County, Neil Labute’s scathing satire Your Friends and Neighbors and his playfully violent black comedy Nurse Betty. And that’s just naming a few! No matter the genre or the filmmaker that he’s working with, Breen is always able to transport the viewer exactly where any given project is set, and it’s through his innate sense of what’s pleasing to the eye that we’re left with some of the most visually iconic sets and brush-strokes of art direction that could possibly be imagined. Having received an Emmy nomination for Art Direction on HBO’s critically acclaimed Weapons of Mass Destruction, he’s also no stranger to the small screen, having just recently worked on the pilot for the short-lived but extremely funny FX series The Comedians, as well as 23 episodes of the USA comedic series Sirens. Breen is also a frequent contributor on short films, working with a wide variety of talent throughout the years on multiple projects, and has put his talents to use as a solo art director on the powerful drama Flesh and Bone, the glossy copy thriller Jade, the fiery revenge tale The Crow: City of Angels, and Walter Hill’s kick-ass actioner Trespass. There’s not much that Breen can’t do it seems!

One of his most distinctive credits was the 2006 gangster-musical hybrid Idlewild, from frequent collaborator director Bryan Barber, who has spent the majority of his career in the music video world. Breen brought all of Barber’s bold visual ideas to life with his production design of Idlewild; it’s gorgeous work, overflowing with detail that spills out past the edges of the frame, always providing something visually stimulating to look at. A wildly ambitious and obscenely underrated film, it’s the sort of technical and logistical tour de force that warranted an Oscar nomination. On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have something like Neil LaBute’s nasty relationship drama Your Friends and Neighbors, which highlighted Breen’s ability to use open space and a clean frame to express sadness, hostility, and isolation. It’s an emotionally cold film, and the spare production design reflects the chilly and repressed interior worlds of the characters. And while this project arrived before Idlewild, it was an early indication of Breen’s range as an artist that would allow him to even be considered for such a daunting designing challenge. And I can only image what it must have been like to get one of your first industry jobs working on the sets for the now beyond famous Blade Runner, which has come to mean so much to some many people over the years that it’s safe to call it one of the most influential films ever made. In every single shot of Blade Runner, the audience is treated to something spectacular, and I can think of few other films that have been more art directed and designed to express so many thoughts, feelings, and emotions.