Thursday, 30 July 2015

Tilbury (1987) Vidar Vikingsson

Tilbury is based on an Icelandic legend of an imp born of a rib, wool and communion wine, that can be created by a lady in times of need to steal milk from neighbours cows, is fed through a nipple on her thigh and must kill her if anyone else discovers it. So the opening sees bones, cattle, a lady pouring communion wine on her boobs and yes, a thigh nipple. It's a good opening. Then we get to the story proper. A young swimming champ from the countryside sets out to Reykjavik to continue his training, but also in search of his childhood sweetheart who seems to have gone astray, he is also set on the case by her father, a priest. He finds that she is the lover of a strange older British officer (the film is set during the British occupation of the early 1940's) and that things are generally amiss. And things certainly continue amiss... 

This is one strange film. Not just strange for its plot, in the ways one might expect of a lesser known folk horror, with unfamiliar rules and conventions. Not just strange as a tale of a man out of place, struggling out of his element. Nor as a film of a place out of place, not the Iceland one might expect of locals and chilly beautiful scenery, but trenches, barracks, British soldiers about. This is strange in almost every scene, almost every line and action. There's a kind of poised unreality here, a sense of everything being off, but not inept or merely goofy, rather calculating, pregnant with Fate. And its all supported in the visuals and actions, often appealing, but forbidding too. Older girls swinging either side of the lead in childhood memory, commanding, seductive. One girl reclining on a top diving board as if the whole place is hers. A ball where passion and company turns to green lit stalking. These, and more obvious displays building both swiftly and gradually (the film is less than an hour long but doesn't feel hurried) to a violent conclusion. 

I was almost totally satisfied by this. Its skill matches its weirdness which is matched by an effectively creepy vibe. There's a little necessary blood and nudity, actually enhancing the mood rather than serving to amuse. And one can draw interesting points about the old ways and the new ways, about wartime, about people and relationships and commodities and so on. People who like films to basically hang tightly together, to give reasonable quarter to normality or be action driven or simply explicable may perhaps not want to apply, but for a certain kind of person I give this a strong recommendation. Woo hoo!!!

Sunday, 15 March 2015

Martyrs (2008) Pascal Laugier

I only recently came to Martyrs even though for some time it appeared relevant to my interests. Subject of some controversy, to some a masterwork of extreme cinema, as mature, thought provoking and poignant as it is gruesome. To others half flies high only to plummet, to still others the whole thing is a bit of a botch. I find myself most in line with this last group, though I did not outright dislike the film. 

There are substantial things going for it. First is the plot and structure, blending the emotional, the visceral and the metaphysical. Over the opening credits an abused child is found, soon enough she has grown up and one morning arrives at a pleasant suburban home with intentions that are not brunch. The course of events takes in friendship, brutality, endurance and as the title suggests, transcendence, its heady stuff and the plays on expectation are fun. I'm not entirely sure that in general I like ambition in my genre films, it makes for so much farther to fall and so many do fall. But in Martyrs' case I was charmed, if only because I'm slightly cynical about these recent only just to the side of mainstream "extreme" efforts but naturally into this stuff. 

The other big things are the two leads. It's incredibly difficult to summon up effective violent and psychological intensity full stop, let alone sustain it without sliding into bathos. Morjana Alaoui and Mylene Jampanoi do as good a job of it as I've seen from almost any film recently. I never laughed or yawned or rolled my eyes. 

Together these things are a great foundation, but the film is never great. The first block has a good driving power but is ill handled. Fast paced, with a camera fast and close, but director Pascal Laugier is competent and confident, he frames and lights everything coherently. The trouble is in the editing, barely any shots hold on long enough to build tension, atmosphere or character. There are a lot of effects and I don't demand a sequence of practically experimental long shots, but this all action approach saps any depth or feeling. It's gripping, but not especially exciting or powerful. Ultimately its just frustrating. 

Then there's the second, final block, the really divisive stuff. Unlike many, I think the idea is really nice, I don't know enough about religion or its history, or Sade, Bataille and other supporting thinkers to be able to comment on how reasonable it is, but I do like it. There's just no development. Not to get too far into it, but if one follows the logic of the villains plotting, they really should be weird, or crueller, or tougher, or more dead inside. Instead they are bland, there's no indication that any of this was thought out and the explanation is brief. I don't require chunky exposition, wild left turns and weirdness, but it doesn't even throw a bone. It isn't even truly torturous, cringe making and unpleasant to watch, with the best opportunity for memorably grim nastiness bafflingly skipped over. There are crumbs at best. The atmosphere and characterisation does thicken somewhat as the direction slows down, but they still aren't sufficiently dwelt upon. The ending, neat but empty. 

Now for all this, I still somewhat enjoyed Martyrs. It's pretty bloody and never dull, in fact its pretty engaging. It has a heart in the right place, and in fits and spurts is good fun. I've thought about it a fair bit after viewing, I expect I'll happily watch it again some day, and my opinions may even change. I'd even go so far as to recommend it. But I sure can't rate it more than average.

Friday, 9 January 2015

Turtle Vision (1991) Hiseyasu Sato

Most times that I've had problems with Sato films its been from a feeling of outside compromise. Tiny budget and too much sex preventing Brain Sex from achieving its apocalyptic potential, or something like a third of Love Minus Zero Equals Infinity removed to make an acceptable genre length. Turtle Vision feels a little held back by budget, but mostly by Sato's own decisions. The beginning sets the tone, someone is spying by camera on a canoodling couple but the overly fuzzy footage is a real drag, virtually impossible to make out. And it goes on. The set up is fine, a young man who makes voyeur sex tapes for sale gets involved with a girl who slashes her lovers eyes out, and she has an incestuous relationship with her sister. There's plenty of isolation, the deadening power of the camera, the sinister potential of gaze, perversion and the psychic transference of woe. It's all good stuff. But there's far too much use of blurry night vision footage, taking the sting out of much of the action. Even taking the most positive interpretation, that the idea is stylised unreality, the blue hue an emotional state, cold and distant, it still doesn't work. The style, the isolation, the depth to scenes is already there in the camera angles, the night vision shooting just makes things harder to see. It just doesn't work.It's very frustrating, as is the cutting away from or otherwise obscuring of nearly all the eye violence. Other films have demonstrated that Sato isn't shy when it comes to violence, so its hard to figure out why he doesn't go for more here.

At least there's a tangible beginning, middle and end here, the storytelling is compressed as one expects but it flows well, with characters and themes that work on their own terms without necessarily needing to be fitted into the general Sato framework.Sato regular Koichi Imaizumi is effective as the male lead, I suspect weird, somewhat pathetic loner with a steely, self determining core may be his default rather than really acting but it works just fine. The others do well too, conveying the right chilly yet irresistible connection. The one nasty sequence short normally is suitably nasty, and though short is revisited to good effect, and the climax does offer a memorable image. That's about the long, the short and the tall of it. Some Sato fans or general Asian cinema enthusiasts like this rather more than me so you should probably check it out, but I won't recommend it. Meh...