Showing posts with label Classic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Classic. Show all posts

Sunday, 9 November 2014

Revisiting The Thin Red Line (1998)

Terrence Malick is one of cinemas most elusive characters. Reclusive, uncompromising and brilliant in equal measure, Malick stands as one of the greatest living directors. His triumphs include masterpieces such as Badlands, Days of Heaven and most recently the Tree of Life. Yet his greatest achievement remains, in my opinion, Second World War epic the Thin Red Line.
Released in 1998, the Thin Red Line was one of two war films to generate mass critical acclaim. The other, of course, was Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan. Spielberg’s offering crushed the box office (as Spielberg movies tend to do) and cleared up at the Oscars, yet Malick’s first film in twenty years left empty handed despite being nominated for a whopping seven Academy Awards.
The Thin Red Line suffered considerably due to being released so soon after Spielberg’s behemoth had beaten cinema audiences into bloody submission. Expecting another adrenaline fuelled action adventure with a John Williams soundtrack, audiences instead were faced with a master class in the art of poetic filmmaking. As such, Malick’s vastly superior film has forever lived in the shadow of Saving Private Ryan.
That being said, Malick’s tone poem is certainly not for everyone, clocking in at just shy of three hours, the Thin Red Line is long, really long. At times the pacing is glacial, major actors prove distracting in tiny cameos, the bulk of the film rests on the shoulders of relative unknowns and the narrative textbook has well and truly been thrown out the window. Yet despite this, the Thin Red Line stands as a triumph of contemporary filmmaking.
In a nutshell, the plot is concerned with the dangers faced by Charlie Company as they attempt to secure a heavily fortified ridge in the battle of Guadalcanal during the Second World War. Woody Harrelson, George Clooney, John Travolta, John Savage, Thomas Jane, John Cusack, Jared Leto, Nick Nolte, John C Reilly and Adrian Brody all feature, yet the true protagonists of the film are portrayed by Ben Chaplin, Sean Penn, Elias Koteas and Jim Caviezel.
Malick’s camera flits freely between these characters, examining how each individual deals with the devastating demands of war. Chaplin’s character seeks refuge in erotic fantasies with his wife, whilst Penn cynically dismisses any hope he may have of salvation. Many of the characters provide a voice over narration, not to progress the plot, but to reveal more about themselves, their collective view of the war and its many disturbing facets. Malick seems to be more concerned with the psychological effects of war than the physical. The old adage states that war strips men of their innocence, Malick takes this idea further; he would suggest that war launches an assault on the soul. 
The Thin Red Line frames war as an unnatural state, a terrible villain that has no rightful place in this world. The film is riddled with tropical symbolism, and strives to depict man’s eternal struggle in the destruction of nature and himself. Where Spielberg shows a man shorn down by machine gun fire, guts in his hands, Malick reveals a baby bird, dying, haven fallen from its nest as bombs drop nearby. Thus Malick demands that we consider the very nature of war, how can we allow this to happen? The Thin Red Line is a perfect example of onscreen philosophy, the very ideas of Malick reflected in a visual tone poem.
Although the action scenes in the Thin Red Line are few and far between, they are expertly orchestrated. Bullets ricochet, explosions desecrate the landscape and soldiers scream in agony. One particular scene where Charlie Company assaults a fortified ridge is every bit as visceral as Saving Private Ryan’s famed beach landing. Spielberg’s film sheds little light on the nature of the Thin Red Line; perhaps a better comparison would be with the surrealist dreamscape of Coppola’s Apocalypse Now.
John Toll is the man responsible for the staggering cinematography on display. The vibrant jungles and lush landscape are beautifully captured through perfectly controlled tracking shots and slow camera pans. With the landscape itself being such a key thematic component of the film, it is imperative that it be captured in a manner that demands the attention of the audience. The ever brilliant Hans Zimmer provides an original score for the Thin Red Line, with much of the soundtrack consisting of several Melanesian choral songs and chants, which perfectly compliment the films many thematic elements.
Whether you admire the Thin Red Line for its vast poetic beauty, or consider it pretentious and isolating, it is impossible to deny the supreme power of the film. Malick is able to convey the very nature of love, death, heroism and war in a way no other film has ever accomplished. A free flowing visual poem of ideas, the Thin Red Line lives long in the memory. Never has a film this intimate, felt so epic.  A true masterpiece.

Sunday, 22 September 2013

Bladerunner (1982) - Is Deckard a Replicant?

Bladerunner is an odd sort of film. A commercial flop on release, Ridley Scott's mysterious neo-noir sci-fi flick has developed a cult following rivaled only by the illustrious Fight Club. Perhaps audiences in 1982 just weren't ready for Scott's majestically cynical vision of the future. Or, maybe studios forced the poor guy to fuck around with the ending. Yes, that sounds more likely.
Now, over thirty years later, Bladerunner exists in three different edits. The definitive version, according to Scott, is the "final cut" edition released in 2007 to mark the film's 25th anniversary. Interestingly, this version is arguably the less ambiguous of the three, and allows for a more informed reading of Scott's dystopian fantasy.
Set in a futuristic Los Angeles, Bladerunner follows the struggles of Deckard, a reluctant Harrison Ford who specialises in killing dangerous androids known only as Replicants. When four exceptionally powerful Replicants escape and wreak havoc in LA, Deckard is tasked with stopping them.
It's almost impossible to mention Bladerunner without delving into the "is Deckard a Replicant" theory. Scott strives to make it fairly clear in his final cut, perhaps because audiences today don't react well to ambiguity. Although interestingly, Harrison Ford has said on numerous occasions that he did not believe Deckard to be a Replicant. Indeed, Ford has referenced several conversations between himself and Scott where the pair agreed that Deckard was human. Yet despite this, Scott himself has refused to admit that Deckard is a human. So let's look at the facts.
Deckard's apartment is cluttered with photographs, none of which appear to be in colour, which would suggest that they are of significant age. Photographs are highly treasured by Leon, a renegade Replicant who returned to his dwelling despite obvious danger in a desperate attempt to retrieve his photos. Similarly Rachael - another Replicant - uses photographs in a futile attempt at convincing Deckard of her humanity. Scott makes it clear that photographs are of utmost importance to Replicants because it gives them the illusion of having "real memories", providing ties to a non-existent past. This begs the question, what do the photographs in Deckard's apartment symbolise?
Doubt is again cast over Deckard's humanity during his first encounter with Rachael. The Replicant asks him whether he has successfully passed the android test himself, a question to which he offers no reply. Scott is a director who recognises the importance contained in the slightest of details, so do not underestimate what Deckard's silence represents in this scene.
Later in the film, whilst in his apartment with Rachael, the eyes of Deckard glow ever so briefly like those of a Replicant. Whilst very discreet, this becomes clear during repeat viewings, and again I highly doubt this is carelessness on Scott's behalf. The eyes of Replicant's glow very occasionally, as if to portray a design flaw and to suggest that they are not perfectly manufactured at all. Indeed, in Bladerunner the eye is portrayed as a two way mirror; able to see magnificent things, as famously depicted by Roy Batty, but which can also give away just as much, as revealed in Deckard's android test.
Perhaps the most obvious indicator of Deckard's true self is the notorious unicorn dream. Famously absent from earlier versions of Bladerunner, the final cut sees Deckard dream of a startlingly white unicorn whilst asleep in his apartment. Now here's the clever bit. Earlier in the film Deckard was able to convince Rachael of her artificial nature by declaring his knowledge of her most personal memories and dreams. As Rachael is a Replicant, her memories are merely implants that Deckard has been able to research. Meanwhile, throughout the film, Deckard's supervisor Gaff continually manufactures small origami figurines. In the final scene of the film, Deckard flees his apartment with Rachael only to discover a small origami unicorn beside his door. This would imply that Gaff knows about Deckard's unicorn dream, and would strongly suggest that the dream was an artificial implant.
I'm going to run with this unicorn idea for a little while longer. Later in the film, whilst Pris resides in the apartment of J.F Sebastian, we can again see a unicorn, this time in the form of a toy crowded by J.F's numerous other creations. Consider that the job of J.F is to help create Replicants. Isn't it possible that the unicorn is a personal touch added by him in the design process of the artificial mind; a recurring dream that all Replicants share?
After watching Bladerunner, many puzzled film-goers can't understand why Roy Batty would save Deckard. Some argue that Batty wanted to instill Deckard with his knowledge, so that he could live on in some spiritual sense after his body decayed. I'm not buying it. I think Batty saw something of himself in Deckard as he hung desperately from the ledge. A burning desire to live perhaps? Or, something artificial? After all, Batty does shout "kinship" as he saves Deckard by grabbing his hand. Soon after this, Gaff congratulates Deckard by saying that he's done a "man's" job. Now I know that it's a fairly common phrase, but in the context of this film questions have to asked...
Many state that Deckard simply couldn't have been a Replicant, as he was noticeably weaker than the androids he fought against. This is true, yet he wasn't weaker than Rachael. And if, like Rachael, Deckard was programmed not to know his artificial nature, the only way to maintain the charade would be to give him "average", human abilities. After all, doesn't it make sense to have a Replicant hunt other Replicants? Surely it would be a job too dangerous for a human.
After viewing Bladerunner multiple times over the years, I stand convinced that Deckard is indeed a Replicant - regardless of what Harrison Ford has to say on the matter. Yet, the very fact that the question cannot be answered with true certainty highlights just how effectively Sir Ridley has portrayed his ultimate thematic debate; what does it mean to be human?

Monday, 12 August 2013

Looking back at the golden years...

Movies, they just don't make them like they used to. Sound familiar?
Early silent films of Murnau and Chaplin have stood the test of time, and are widely regarded as classics. Similarly, the following decades saw the release of behemoths like Casablanca, Citizen Kane and On the Waterfront. Yet most revered of all, is that brief period of filmic creativity that started in the late 1960's before diminishing at the end of the 1970's; the age of New Hollywood.
This "golden age" of cinema ushered in mavericks like Scorsese, Coppola, Spielberg, Lucas, Altman, Scott and Malick. These auteurs produced films the likes of which had never been seen before. Indeed, many people believe that the quality and quantity of films produced during this period will never again be matched.
I for one, am sick to death of hearing about the dreadful state contemporary cinema is in. Am I supposed to believe that I will never see a film better than Taxi Driver or Jaws? Bullshit. Granted, there are a lot of very average films gracing today's theatres, and I mean a lot. Giant robots, found footage fiascos, comic books come to life - take your pick. 
However, one only has to glance at the vast array of directing talent to emerge in the last two decades to realise that we are in the midst of something special. The work of Quentin Tarantino, stands as testament to the quality of today's films. Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill, Inglourious Basterds and even Django Unchained would stand up to even the best offerings of the 1970's. 
What of Paul Thomas Anderson, who's filmography to date includes Boogie Nights, Magnolia, Punch Drunk Love, There Will Be Blood and The Master? Is his work lacklustre in comparison to say, Robert Altman? Nonsense. There Will Be Blood would stand as a crowning achievement in any decade, even the "golden age".
What about Christopher Nolan, the man responsible for redefining the blockbuster? Alexander Payne? Sam Mendes? Wes Anderson? Cameron Crowe? David Fincher? Darren Arronofsky? The Coen brothers? Danny Boyle? Robert Zemeckis? David O'Russell? Tim Burton? Peter Jackson? Steven Sodenbergh? The list goes on.
Consider also, how accessible films are now compared to forty years ago. Back in the 70's, audiences were limited with regards to the films they could actually see. Now consider that the films of Lars Von Trier, Tomas Alfredson, Fernando Mereilles and Nicolas Winding Refn are available to a global audience. Also, did I mention Alfonso Cuaron, Michael Haneke, Guillermo Del Toro, Ang Lee or Pedro Almovodar? For the first time ever, foreign independent films have a chance of garnering widespread critical and commercial success.
It's also worth remembering that Scorsese, Spielberg, Scott and Malick are all still making films today. Indeed, Scorsese was awarded with his best director Oscar not for Taxi Driver, nor Raging Bull, but his  2006 crime thriller, The Departed. Similarly, Scott received greatest critical acclaim not for his sci-fi masterworks Bladerunner or Alien, but for his historical epic Gladiator, released in 2000. Spielberg scooped numerous Oscars with Lincoln just mere months ago, and Malick is producing his best ever work with films like The Thin Red Line and Tree of Life.
My point? I don't really have one, other than to appreciate the films we currently have the pleasure of watching. True, the Spielberg's and Scorsese's of this world won't be around forever, but they will leave behind a lasting legacy. A legacy that will be built upon by the new breed; the Christopher Nolan's, Quentin Tarantino's and Paul Thomas Anderson's. Fear not folks, the future is bright.
Golden age? What golden age!