It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) – Frank Capra

Introduction

No it’s not. Life is flatulence that eventually fades away, sometimes making walls darker, but on the whole being nothing but a memory of something that kind of once was but isn’t anymore. And nobody who was around at the time is alive to remember. But... watching Jimmy Stewart run around like a kid with too many chromosomes going in for a cuddle makes you feel like, at least for two-odd hours, you are vicariously leading one.

Frank Kafka

It’s a Wonderful Life is cinematic altruism: a Dickensian piece of life affirmation that, I must admit, makes me weep when I see it. I don’t know if it’s the empathy I feel for Jimmy’s everyman George Bailey, or just how fucking sentimental it is, but it gets me. And if it gets me, then it gets you too, and you’re nothing but a liar if you say it doesn’t. A no-good, lonely liar.

Characters:

The fabulous Mr. Stewart plays George Bailey in this capitalist reimagining of the story of Job. Rather than losing everything, however, and still being expected to worship a God who doesn’t give a shit, Bailey gives everything and, in essence, questions why good things don’t happen to him. Or do they?

They do at the end of the film when all of the people he has helped throughout his life pull through and – BETTER LATE THAN FUCKING NEVER - help him. However, there is no particular accolade to this; Bailey is rewarded not in the sense of posterity, or being immortalised, like his brother who is a war hero, or Sam Wainwright, his successful counterpart. No, Bailey’s reward is as humble as his own generosity.

Plot:

The film, on the one hand, is typically American – it expounds the virtues of prudent capitalism, saving money, and the independent, small entrepreneur, whilst emphasising the importance of community spirit and charity. Bailey is arguably hard-done-by, having dedicated his life to ensuring the fulfilment of other’s dreams and ambitions, which is, on the surface of it, a very sad story. However, through abandoning his own lofty aspirations and ideologies he is taught that life can be just as fulfilling without them.

On the other hand, it’s a grim tale of a man who, through Catholic guilt, is pushed to the brink of bankruptcy and works out that due to the system he is within is worth more dead than alive. It takes an angel to talk him out of it. Mr. Potter, who is the antagonist of the film, gets no comeuppance, and I can only assume he lives a long and satisfying life.

So, there are two strange concepts working against one another here. The majority of the film doesn’t bother with all the holy stuff, and it only actually comes into play in, like the last thirty minutes. I find the intervention of the supernatural very, very, very depressing:

Cage improvised many lines and actions

Bailey, throughout his life, had struggled to subside, ensuring that his brother, extended family, peers, colleagues and lovers all got what they wanted, generally at his expense. He also worked tirelessly to ensure that the community was offered a fair domiciliary plan, creating a bank that loans out more money that it brings in, and constructing high-quality houses so that all of the residents can avoid the clutches of the monopolist, Mr. Potter. During this, he finds the time to court and marry a woman, have three fucking children, and renovate a very old property that he himself has aided in the disrepair of.

Oh, wait, of course he also saves his brother’s life, reinvigorates his father’s industry, wins the Second World War by killing Hitler, and develops Keynesian economics.

So, it pisses me off that, when his backwards, unproductive, absent-minded uncle (who was obviously only hired due to nepotism) loses eight-fucking-grand, Bailey, who has defeated every obstacle from smallpox to HIV, contemplates suicide and is only saved when a fucking angel intervenes. What? Really?

REALLY?

I’ve watched a man, for around an hour and forty-five minutes, struggle to come to terms with his own existence, succeed, but only to be thwarted by a stupid relative. And then, in the last fifteen minutes, or something, an angel swoops in and God takes the credit. That’s not fair.

Okay, I get that he needed to be ‘reminded’ of his own worth and all of that, but I would have found it a lot more interesting to see him work all of that out for himself, or through the plethora of selfish cunts that he’d helped over the years. Oh, again, they come in at the last fucking minute to help him out with his crippling financial situation. Oh, get the fu -

Conclusion:

I can’t criticise this film, because it elicits an emotional response from me. It works. It’s a perfect film in a lot of ways, because it asks nothing of the viewer and merely gives. I like that. It’s a Wonderful Life is the acceptable face of capitalism.

Herzog with an AK-47

Nevertheless, I would HEART to see Werner Herzog do a version of it.

“LOL? Wat?”

I didn’t expect you to understand. Herzog’s recent reimagining of the nihilist classic ‘Bad Lieutenant’ took what was originally a tale about the Catholic road to redemption and turned it into an existentialist journey, where no redemption or justice could be found. What was in effect a story about Harvey Keitel suffering from severe guilt over his amoral behaviour and attempting to find salvation was turned on its head, with Nic Cage playing a crooked cunt with absolutely no morals, and no need for salvation.

Now, if Mr. Herzog could get his hands on the often contested rights to It’s a Wonderful Life, remove the pseudo-Christian perspective, I would be very interested to see the result...  

Positive: Touching, universal, Jimmy Stewart, brilliant

Negative: Actually, nothing – not even the religious aspect is particular preachy

Best line: Clarence: “Clarence!”

Bailey: “Clarence. Clarence.”

Out of ten: NINE ()

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010) – Edgar Wright

Introduction

Hi, nice to meet you; my name’s Centuries of Female Subjugation. What? You haven’t heard of me? Bull-fucking-shit, you motherfucker!

Oh, wait, I see the problem here... maybe you’re one of them women-lovin’ faggots in need of a good old fashioned lychin’? Or mayhaps you’re a house-woman what got lost on your way to the kitchen? Either way, if you be needing an education in my story and where I come from, then maybe you should watch this film: Scott Pilgrim vs. Equality.

Characters:

I really like Michael Cera and I was looking forward to the next chance that I’d get to watch him play a socially awkward teenager having difficulty finding love. You can only imagine how disappointed I was when I found out he’d be playing Super Chauvinist (TWENTY-SOMETHING) Scott Pilgrim who is, in fact, too successful with women. Jeffrey Tambor’s rolling over in his fucking grave, Michael.

The other characters in the film are relatively unimportant, as ‘awesome’ Scott is the centre-piece, pitted against various former co-stars and a repellent Jason Schwartzman, he murders people for money in order to, in a very Ancient Greek way, ‘win’ his ‘prize’ Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead – no, I don’t know who the fuck she is either). Kieran Culkin makes an appearance as Scott’s gay flatmate, who’s by far the most likeable character, maintaining morally ambiguous affairs with closet homosexuals and a Sartre-esque polyamorous tryst with a boyfriend. He looks good, too, which is a bonus, as Michael Cera seems to be evolving in to some sort of preternatural bird-type-creature.

In old pictures women were killed for being witches

Plot:

To get Flowers to fuck him Pilgrim has to fight all of her ex-boyfriends/girlfriend, who have all vowed to serve Schwartzman (I refuse to use his character’s name). This is fine as a premise, I guess, and it’s reasonably entertaining. There are allusions to the original comic (which I haven’t read) and the game that came out (which I haven’t played), and I found myself mainly either wanting to go and read a comic book, or play the incredible No More Heroes for the Wii. The cinematography doesn’t break any fucking records for innovation (not like [content of film aside] the excellent comic-book representation that is Sin City) and they lap on the onomatopoeic words ad nauseum; fuck, I can even forgive the film for having Schwartzman in it... but I cannot forgive the film’s portrayal of women.

Some women went to prison, I assume

Now, I’m not a feminist, but I do believe in equality. In the grim darkness of the recent past, the producers of this film didn’t. They thought that we were still in Mad Men times, or something, and that people can get away with this kind of shit. Well, they can’t. This film makes women look like powerless fuckholes who cannot defend themselves and are easily swayed by the opinion of man - neigh, literally controlled by them. Towards the end of the film, Scott is killed – basically because he says that he is going to fight in order to win Flowers. The film refers to this as ‘love’. When Scott has a Christ-like resurrection he gets back to the same point, where Flowers (who has been brainwashed by the decrepit Schwartzman) it being held captive; at this point what he should have said was not:

“I’m doing this because I want to win her.” [non verbatim], which is what he initially said.

But:

“I’m doing this so that she may have the right to choose.” This is the whole point, right? I could only assume this is where the film was heading...

What he actually says is:

“I’m doing this for me.”

What the fuck? So, he starts off doing it so that he can own her, because he’s defeated all the people who previously did, but he changes his mind and does it for completely selfish reasons? It’s okay, because I guess as a woman Flowers gets a choice in this. Oh, no, she doesn’t. After breaking the heart of the celestial child that he was previously dating He is expected to do battle with his evil self, but they make friends instead. This summarises what a morally void and unlikeable ‘awesome’ guy he is.

It’s funny, because I wonder how long it will be before Scott Pilgrim moves on after he’s got the fuck he was after. I think he’ll go crawling back to Culkin, who won’t take him in because he’s too worried about his abstract brother, and Scott Pilgrim will just go back (at the age of twenty-seven, let’s say) to hanging around catholic schools hoping to pick up kids, because THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENS IN THE FUCKING FILM.

Conclusion:

You [k]now [k]now.

It was an enjoyable film, but due to its consistent oppression of women at the hands of men I hope that come 2012 the world is left to a better hand than that of man.

Positive: Sort of fun.

Negative: Genuinely sexist. Like, more sexist than I am.

Best line: Pilgrim [to Schwartzman]: “You’re pretentious.” LOL! Yeah, he is!

Out of ten: FIVE (lost a mark because of the sexism)

The Dreamers (2003) – Bernardo Bertolucci

  

Introduction

I was studying Freudian psychology in France during the riots that happened there in the 60s, so this film was very familiar in its setting. Also, on a broad level, Freudian analysis can be applied to the film as a whole, with characters representing the different aspects of id, ego and superego. Unlike my previous reviews, this piece is more of an analysis (and I will entitle it thusly) and will hitherto be the most pretentious prose I will write. Don’t worry! I won’t do anything like this again, you cunts!

I watched this film on the recommendation of a lifelong friend and same-sex lover after watching another recommendation made by him – Blowup (1966). Both have the typical soundtracks you would expect (which I will not mention at all), one of course being contemporary and the other not, but both also have challenging character types who are not instantly likeable. My friend and I agreed that we missed this (having been around at the time) and generally, film viewers are more comfortable with characters who, whilst having flaws, are generally ‘good people’. Let’s get more abrasive protagonists so the viewer ends up thinking “I do not care what happens to this person”.   I also enjoyed the guilt-free smoking which is extended to a wider theme in the film in the form or responsibility.

Analysis

Basis:

Michael Pitt, who is currently being seen as a flawed gangster in the relatively interesting series ‘Boardwalk Empire’, plays Matthew, who is a seemingly naive American studying French, in Paris, in 1968. Matthew soon meets Isabelle (Eva Green) and Theo (Louis Garrel), who have ties to the ‘revolutionary acts’ that are taking place, and they quickly bond over their mutual affection for not just the French new wave, but cinema in general.

Matthew goes around to the family home, where it is revealed that Isabelle and Theo’s father is in fact a once-famous poet. During a meal, they all smoke pink cigarettes whilst discussing existentialism and relativity; at this point of the film, it is established that Theo has little love for his father’s views, which have become wet over time. Later in the film this is countered by Matthew’s background, where there is implied poverty, sexual abuse and a dictatorial father.

During dinner Matthew makes the observation that everything is inextricably linked through a demonstration of the dimensions of a cigarette lighter. This is highlighted throughout the film in the human medium; in the same way that the cigarette lighter relates to each contour and corner of all that is perceived, every action and every human movement relates to a piece of cinema – the visual counterpart to life. Bertolucci achieves this comparison by relating movements made by the characters to famous flicks of the time, which becomes something of a competition between the characters, but also raises the notion of art imitating life and vice versa; however, it relates to a  subconscious imitation that is condensed, by Matthew, to something as simple as a lighter; appliance emulates appliance and person emulates people (cinema).

Knowledge and experience is through the fucking nose, apparently, too – the bigger the nose the bigger the brain. This pleases me, as I am renowned for my gargantuan fucking snout. Bertolucci does a good job of making you want to be there at first, which organically expands into you actually being there all together. WHAT?!

Person:

Matthew pisses in a sink for the seventh time

Matthew habitually pisses in sink – wait a second, I imagine; I do that in a way, as one of my idiosyncraticies is that I kneel to urinate. He also covers his mouth because of morning breath – he is an utterly human representation thrown into an intellectually aristocratic family – a nouveau-gentry – wait, he has the same hair as me too! – I am trapped in the implied incestuous relationship that in turn is trapped in a cyclopean house.

The Keaton/Chaplin argument that Matthew and Theo share is comparable to any modern day discussion between ‘who you prefer’; for example, the common question “do you prefer Ben Affleck or Ben Kingsley?”. Mechanisms such as this cement the viewer’s position within the plot, regardless of the period it is set. You find yourself wishing to be in Matthew’s situation, or having siblings like Isabelle and Theo, where innocuous film-naming competitions that mirror life become excuses for sexual acts.

Communism and Isabelle:

Theo fries eggs as Matthew takes one for the team

Throughout the film there are allusions to the backdrop of the tale, which is the boring student riot. This is coupled with communist imagery, with busts of Chairman Mao, references to the little red book, and Soviet flags. After one of the film-naming charades Theo instructs Matthew to fuck Isabelle as the forfeit, which he, in a dazed manner, completes. Yeah, you get to see pretty much all of Eva Green. During their awkward intercourse, Theo fries some eggs, representing the loss of innocence through the consumption of embryonic states, the menstrual cycle and the fact that his sister is, as it turns out, a virgin. The blood red that Matthew dabs on his hand from Isabelle’s vagina is just as symbolic as the red of the communist flag as it signifies a revolution of sorts – Isabelle’s loss of innocence, which was unexpected on account of her demeanour, is at one with the revolution. Later, when Isabelle gets her period as they’re sharing a bath, everyone’s really happy. Phew! We all know how that feels, right guys?

Accept everything:

Matthew occasionally expresses his embedded nationalistic views that he has brought with him from the Americas, communicating his support for troops in Vietnam. This makes him an alien of sorts, however he is quick to adapt to his surroundings, and a central theme to the film is just this – acceptance of whatever the fuck is going on. Isabelle cooks a really shit meal for them and I think sums it up by saying that Matthew should shut the fuck up and “just eat the fucking thing as if you were in some foreign country you’ve never fucking been in, or even fucking heard of, before and this is the national dish.” That’s what it’s about, baby – shut the fuck up and eat it. It’s right there, isn’t it? Don’t be a pussy – don’t just look at it, eat it. Penny, pound! Penny, pound!

Sexuality and Family:

There is not a relationship between three different people in this film – there is a relationship between Matthew and Isabelle/Theo. Although they’re not literally the same person (you fucking idiot), what Matthew doesn’t seem to grasp during the course of the film is that to receive love from one of the twins is to receive love from them both. Whilst the intercourse happens between Isabelle and Matthew, at times we see that Matthew is almost knowingly trying to seduce Theo, and there is some frustration over the fact that they never actually bum. There is a envious beauty to this love that I, being born of the earth, will never feel.

Although an incestuous relationship between the twins is suggested early in the film, it’s clear that they have never actually fucked. It is indirectly suggested, through Isabelle and Theo wanting to shave Matthew’s pubic hair, that they want to have a child, but due to their relationship to one another cannot do so. Matthew is essentially their kid, who they also happen to fuck. It is interesting to note that after the point where Matthew cries like a little baby over them wanting to prune his bush that he tries to ‘bring it back’ a notch by taking Isabelle out on a date that is displayed by Bertolucci in a classically cinematic way, even with a fucking closing aperture on the scene. There’s also a reference to a previous reference of the film Freaks (1932), but I don’t give enough of a fuck to include it. Oh, yeah, it’s inferred that Isabelle’s father – at some stage – has fingered her, or something. Who can blame him, amirite? This is the exposition of all that ‘sins of fathers’ shit that everyone always fucking talks about all the time.

Sexuality is married to knowledge which is derivative of experience; the characters use sex, at times, as an oppressive tool, something to overpower another with. Theo almost kisses Matthew at one stage after they have been drinking dusty wine and fucking about on a bed, but they soppy fuckers kind of chicken out of it. Ha! Pussy faggots aren’t man enough to kiss!

The Middle Classes and my inability to Forgive:

Isabelle’s room is clinical and filled with clinical things – a bastion retreat – Matthew compares it to his own sister’s bedrooms. Wait a second, Isabelle; FUCK YOU. You can’t have it both ways, luv. Seems to me like you want to live the life of an impoverished artisan whilst simultaneously and surreptitiously leading what others would constitute a ‘normal’ life. It’s okay though, because she shows her cards and it turns out that she’s just as fucked up as all the rest of the bourgeoisie. Ah, fuck it – fuck you! It’s easy to be that way if you have the fucking option, isn’t it? Some people don’t have a choice, you bitch.

Freud:

I won’t go into this too much as it’s obvious, but just imagine that the parents are the superego, Theo and Isabelle are the ego (yeah, that’s right) and Matthew is the id. The superego goes on holiday and look what happens: The Dreamers 

The End and the Off Switch:

In final childish act they build a fort as a form of defence for when ma and da. When Isabelle discovers that her parents have left a cheque for Matthew to fuck off, she realises that she has been caught lying naked with her brother and lover. Oh, shit! She promised (she embarrassingly remembers) that she promised to top herself if they ever found out, so she tries to gas the three of them. Idiot. This is thwarted by a rock that smashes through the window as angry students futilely march against the gendarmerie. I sure hope the government wins if all the other students were as FUCKING LAZY as these three.

However, her swiftness to remedy the situation that she has put herself into with suicide is interesting, as I think we’ve all been in stages of our life where it would just be easier to press an invisible ‘off switch’. And it is symptomatic of the characters in the film to react in this manner, as their life had become an enclosed form of incestuous (not in the family sense) hedonism.

Conclusion:

Out of ten: SEVEN

The Patriot (2000) – Roland Emmerich

Introduction

I enjoy Mel Gibson films when he plays an action-orientated detective-type in the modern day. So, when I was told, back in 1999, that he was going to be an action-orientated farmer in not the modern day, needless to say, I was anticipatory in my emoticons: ({‘}_{.}).

It’s worth getting all that zany racist shit out of the way first – yeah, he’s gone whackyshack recently and has been spouting out vulgar, racist abuse and, as a black Jew, I can see why people would be offended, but seriously, have any of you selfish cunts who go around playa hating Mel considered employing an iota of empathy? Imagine this:

Your [insert male relative] has recently come off the booze and is finding it difficult. There’s not much support in your local area for people going through this, and because of the cyclical nature of alcoholism he is unkeen to seek help, but at the same time desperately requires it. This ambivalence towards his own disposition makes him unstable, and you worry that he may be suffering from mental illness. In any normal society, the welfare state (if your country doesn’t have a welfare state then it must be really shit) would help out to ensure that your [male relative] is screened to see if he needs help. In the case of your father, it turns out that he does, because he was severely beaten by a racist, anti-Semitic father at an early age, and horrible, bigoted views have become entrenched in his otherwise unprejudiced, but tragically damaged, brain. Now, because [your male relative] has you to support him, he receives all of the help he needs and recovers.

Mel Gibson doesn’t have you in his life. He’s all alone. He sits in one of his mansions as his condition slowly deteriorates and all the media does is assault him, calling him a sadistic racist and making out that he’s Patron King of Kunts. He’s not – he just needs help. We have a civil responsibility to help Mel Gibson. Let’s not forget that he was the one who pushed for the first interracial gay kiss in Lethal Weapon 2 (citation needed). He’s best buddies with archetypal black medium Whoopi Goldberg, who I assume also has some Jew in her. Poor Mel Gibson. This kind of reaction to his minor misdemeanours must be all the more confusing for him. “WhadidIdo, mate? Why’s everyone always so maaaad at me?” He’s basically an affluent homeless person; an oxymoron.

And we see this confusion ferment in The Patriot.

Characters:

Tom Wilkinson as Ben Franklin in the fantastic HBO
series, John Adams

Mel Gibson plays a detective working for the CIA undercover as a farmer, co-habiting with this common-law husband Heath Ledger. Together they foster a group of confused children who believe that they will never age. There’s also an appearance by one of my favourite actors of all time – Tom Wilkinson. This man doesn’t get enough work, full stop. His range is as expansive as anti-communist sentiment in America during the cold war. If I had the cash I would hire him to hang around my house performing different accents and reminiscing about his various television roles; he would crawl around my flat with a fake cockney accent saying, “five shillings for a kiss, five shillings for a kiss”.

Plot:

Mel Gibson and his family of miscreants move to Charlestown, where King George and his friends are holding a seminar about existentialism –

Wait – let’s remove the historiography of America, because you can basically receive a PhD in early American history by watching the fantastic HBO series John Adams, which is the only thing I can stand Paul Giamatti in.

Paul Giamatti in the stellar John Adams

So, anyway, Gibson complains about tyrants, or something, and raises nihilism as a viable alternative, stating that war is “fought amongst [ourselves]” and the concept of Self needs to be extrapolated more broadly, i.e. not merely a reverence of self (small ‘s’), but a clearer understanding of the construct of Self. One very telling scene early in the film conveys a shockingly accurate itinerary of the career for a younger Heath Ledger, even stipulating that Nolan would be set to direct the Dark Knight and Jack Nicholson would NOT reprise his role as the Joker. These kind of foresights, it was later revealed, were based on predictions made by Gibson himself, who claimed to have received the information in a series of epiphanies that upon waking left him fatigued and juicy.

Early in the film it’s revealed that Ledger has a secret lover he refers to as ‘Toe Mouse’ – he explains to Toe Mouse that Wilkinson has invaded Charlestown. British insurgency continues, mainly involving men educated at Eaton; these Jolly Brits callously shoot one of Gibson’s immortal children who asks his father with his dying breath “why does I die?”. The British officer criticises his syntax, referring to the child as a “stupid boy”. And it’s at this point, as Heath Ledger gets violently bummed by redcoats, that Gibson begins to lose his mind.

Going rogue, Gibson’s menstrual cycle goes on overdrive until he meets with a very courteous Wilkinson who explains the importance of being a gentleman. Gibson ignores EVERYTHING and blames the isolated incident of his son being shot on the entire British army; typical generalisation. Not much more happens over the next hour and Wilkinson – thankfully – survives to act another day and Gibson and his family move to an island. Interestingly, unlike Braveheart, Gibson does not die, so there is no martyrdom.

The sensational Tom Wilkinson

The majority of the film is a montage of Gibson wandering aimlessly through a forest with passersby asking if he ‘needs help’. The only response Gibson can muster is a series of grunts. It is only through this peripatetic perambulation that Gibson stumbles upon Wilkinson’s house, and in a moment of sobriety expresses his dissatisfaction with the British ditching slavery, claiming that in the future they will “roam the world in packs”. Wilkinson, holding back his typically English impotent rage, explains to Gibson that this will not be the case. All Gibson does is wink at him, knowingly.

Conclusion:

Positive: This is a cutting psychological drama and a serious ‘do-not-miss’.

Negative: Null.

Best line: Gibson [to Ledger]: “They tell me that one day you will be a great actor, but like the hero Achilles you will too be destined to a tragically short life; The Nolan will convey a tale of a Dark Knight and you will play the antagonist where a failing Emperor once stood; you will violate Jake Gyllenhaal and witness Anne Hathaway’s tits...” it goes on like this, but a great adlib nevertheless.

Out of ten: FIVE ()