New Country for Gold Men: Carrie (1976)

Ever seen somebody jump on a bandwagon? I mean, literally jump on to a bandwagon. And I’m not talking about the new definition of ‘literally’ here, I’m talking about the old trusted one when it literally meant ‘literally’.

Well I bet you haven’t. In fact, I bet you don’t even know what a bandwagon is. And, in all honesty, neither do I.

Despite this fatal semantic flaw. Prepare yourself to watch a film blogger utterly self-servingly do a Fosbury Flop straight on to the Carrie (2013) bandwagon by dredging Carrie’s (1976) body from its early grave and reminding you of the brilliance of Brian De Palma’s oddly satisfying coming of age horror.

Carrie (1976)

0 Wins; 2 Nominations (Best Actress (Sissy Spacek, lost to Faye Dunaway for Network), Best Supporting Actress (Piper Laurie, lost to Beatrice Straight for Network))

The Film

Carrie (Spacek) – she’s the protagonist, believe it or not – is approaching her high school prom, but she’s an unpopular little tyke. An outsider and subject of the vicious mirth of her contemporaries, they take great pleasure from the fact that Carrie suffers the mortification of her first period in the very public forum of the gym showers.

Little do they know, Carrie’s home-life is far from an easy one, suffering as she does at the hands of the every-little-thing’s-a-sign-from-God religious evangelism of her maniacal mother (Laurie).

Mind you, that’s the least of their problems. Turns out, and you’ll never believe this, that Carrie’s also got the power of telekinesis. This doesn’t bode well for the meddlesome young ladies (and, bizarrely, a wet-behind-the-ears and unpalatably hammy John Travolta), particularly when they turn up to the dance armed to the back teeth with pig’s blood and conspire to inflict the ultimate humiliation on “Creepy Carrie” (hey, not my words…the words of ‘Boy on Bicycle’ who, it transpires, was played by De Palma’s nephew).

The nominations

This was the first of Sissy Spacek’s six Oscar nominations to date. Having perhaps unluckily missed out three years earlier for Badlands, she would only have to wait another four to strike gold for playing Loretta Lynn in Coal Miner’s Daughter. And the qualities that Spacek brings to Badlands are turned up way past 11 in Carrie. She carries herself with a striking fragility that seems to transcend the paradigm of age. On the cusp of womanhood, she transmogrifies from tragic helplessness to psychotic empowerment with alarming brilliance.

The result is an iconic performance that even the charmingly precocious talent of Chloë Grace Moretz will struggle to match. I admire Moretz very much, but she doesn’t have the wide-eyed other-worldliness that made Spacek such a perfect fit for the role. Spacek came up against another remarkable turn in Faye Dunaway’s macho television producer in Network, and despite Spacek’s splendour, I think this was one call that the Academy nailed. It is interesting that the two roles are not altogether unalike. Paranormal projectiles excepted, the two are lonely, disassociated from their peers and prove a destructive force when allowed to play with the other kids.

Talking of wide-eyed other-worldliness, you can certainly see where young Carrie got it. Look no further than her mad-as-a-box-of-Mormons mother. I should probably disclose that I am a true sucker for over the top mentalists onscreen, and Piper Laurie’s nutcase of a matriarch is a classic example. At times, the psalm-spewing zealot looks like an abominable porcelain curiosity. It will be rather interesting to see whether Julianne Moore pursues a direct imitation of Laurie or something a little more…well, nuanced.

The second of Laurie’s three nominations, she lost out to another one of Network’s extraordinary ensemble. But Beatrice Straight’s win remains a mystery to me. One of those Dench-esque roles of only minute screen-time and one stand-out scene, but forgettable among the litany of truly great performances that the film boasted (William Holden’s being one of my favourite ever).

Although not Best Picture material, the Academy’s cruelest omission was to deny Brian De Palma a Best Director nomination. True, 1976 was a very strong year; so strong in fact that Sidney Lumet somehow missed out on the big win to Rocky’s John G. Avildsen. Bergman and Paluka were among the other nominees while Lina Wertmüller made history by becoming the first ever woman to be recognised. And De Palma’s rejection was far from the biggest outcry; somehow Martin Scorsese’s achievements for the bona-fide masterpiece Taxi Driver were deemed insufficient.

But De Palma’s original and jaw-droppingly artistic adaptation of Stephen King deserved praise of the highest form. His narrative slaloms between intentionally trivial high school tweenie flick, to psychological abuse melodrama, and stopping off on the way for tea at full on crimson-drenched horror. And all of these aspects work to considerable effect. Somehow, he also manages to project insightful comment on the dangers of religious zeal and the trials and graphic tribulations of puberty as well as the physical and mental changes that go with it. And yet he sacrifices none of his directorial flair – utilising Wellesian shots from above and below to make Carrie and her mother look respectively pathetic and irresistible, and the odd shot of enormous pulverising beauty like Carrie’s eventual meltdown and mama’s climactic Jesus impersonation (check out the below video and brace yourself for spoilers).

It’s just rather a shame that the memorable final scene has been ripped-off and parodied so many times that looking back at it now it lacks its original punch. And also a shame that it puts one in mind of Peter Finch posthumously grabbing out for his Oscar. Well it does for me anyway.

And just a final word for Pino Donaggio, who put together a most bodacious score that also deserved a nomination. As capricious as the film’s plot, it ventures from Grange Hill to full on Bates Motel. Perhaps not entirely coincidentally, Bernard Herrman picked up two nominations that year for De Palma’s Obsession and the legendary score to Taxi Driver. Although he was eventually beaten by Jerry Goldsmith’s exceptional work on another horror, The Omen.

Carrie; 1976; Dir: Brian De Palma; Stars: Sissy Spacek; Piper Laurie; William Katt; 98 mins; 8/10

For Your Consideration: Gravity

Gravity (2013)

Let me take you back to that long, magical summer of 1996. Football was coming home, Girl Power was taking over the charts and that Tory scumbag John Majors was nationalising all the mines and stuff. Am I right, comrades?

It was also the summer made famous by the fact that 12-year-old me walked out of two consecutive cinematic experiences spluttering those three momentous words: “Best. Film. EVER!”. First came Twister, the dazzling visual effects lead thrill ride of tension about man’s battle with tornadoes. But this was quickly usurped by Independence Day, the dazzling visual effects lead thrill ride of tension about man’s battle with aliens. Now hold that thought…

Because it’s true. All of it. Everything you’ve heard. Every word that people have told you about how bare amazebollocks (that’s what these so-called ‘people’ say, right?) Gravity’s visual effects are have got it bang-the-fuck on (oh my God, my 12-year-old self would have got so told off for saying that).

This story of a team of astronauts (two of which comprise Sandra Bullock and George Clooney) stranded beyond the earth’s atmosphere when space flotsam writes off their shuttle, is a technical master class. Alfonso Cuarón’s decision to put us up close and personal with the characters and action shows guts as well as astronomical faith in his cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki and team of effects artists. And they repay him with a seemingly flawless display of discombobulating, dizzying shots. The genius is to set the camera steady, not trying to keep up with the wildly spinning and swinging characters and apparatus. The result is that we feel the full force and desperation of the disaster, and leave the cinema feeling as though we’ve spent the last 90 minutes rolling down Everest in an out-of-control zorb.

Consider then that this is done in a zero-gravity setting, and the achievement is more impressive still. Now factor in the fact that Cuarón has thrown 3D into the mixer, and it is undeniably astonishing. The use of 3D puts one in mind of the Wim Wenders dance documentary Pina, the way the camera waltzes intimately between the protagonists, but Gravity sets a new high water mark for visual effect cinema to which the likes of Cameron, Abrams, Blomkamp and, yes, why not, Emmerich, will be clambering to match and eventually exceed.

Particular highlights, as if any are required, include the remarkable 17 minute (although possibly Rope-esque) opening tracking shot…in space; a take where the camera literally pans into and out of Bullock’s space helmet; the in-space-nobody-can-hear the obliteration of a massive space station; and a wonderfully artistic shot of Bullock adorned in vest and pants recoiling into a floating foetal position, which brings to mind Alien and 2001: A Space Odyssey in equal measure.

It is when you begin to compare it to such other cosmic classics however, that you realise that Gravity isn’t one.

In fact, the title itself should be a clue, because gravity is the not the only thing notably devoid from the movie. There is no connection with the two leads. Bullock’s quasi-existential crisis is a real bum note. “Protagonist tries to avoid facing the personal tragedy by doing x”, is a well-trodden narrative arc and one that Cuarón has exploited with resounding success through the likes of Y Tu Mamá También and his no-less ambitious Children of Men. But “protagonist tries to avoid facing personal tragedy by becoming an astronaut and embarking on lonely trips to space” simply doesn’t cut the mustard, no matter how much portentous and, frankly, second-rate monologue you want to shove in the script.

Courtesy of Jon Hill – http://www.jon-hill.co.uk/

And with the disconnect, follows a lack of genuine suspense. I’m sure Bullock’s characterisation was researched to the nth degree, but the cold, measured way in which she updates the deteriorating status of her oxygen supply could be reportage of the battery on her iPhone as she tries to squeeze in one last game of Cut the Rope. Considering Alien is clearly an influence, there is a marked lack of jeopardy.

It doesn’t help that, ironically, there is only so much you can do in the infinite paradigm of space in order to build drama. Can the spaceship avoid the flying debris? Can the human avoid the flying debris? Will the rope hold the weight of the spaceship? Will the rope hold the weight of the human? Will the spaceship burn up on re-entry? Will the human burn up in the aflame shuttle? Even at meagre 90 minutes, Gravity doesn’t do enough to maintain suspense.

On a final side note, the bizarre plot device where it materialises that Russians cause the carnage by destroying one of their own spy satellites seems like an anachronistic throwback to post-Cold War films a couple of decades older. I thought that the jingoistic days of the perennial Russian baddie and lingering close-ups of heroic Stars and Stripes were over. Apparently not.

Gravity is style of substance incarnate, something that my 12-year-old self would have loved but Avatar was rightly ravaged for by the critics. And, while I’m not quite that perverse as to compare it to Twister or Independence Day, it shouldn’t take the Academy voters the Hubble Telescope to see that, just because Gravity has been made by a ‘proper’ film maker’, phenomenal effects do not a phenomenal film make.

Gravity; 2013; Dir: Alfonso Cuarón; Stars: Sandra Bullock; George Clooney; 91 mins; 7/10; Probable nominations: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Cinematography (Emmanuel Lubezki), Best Editing, Best Visual Effects, Best Sound Mixing, Best Sound Editing; Possible nominations: Best Actress (Sandra Bullock), Best Supporting Actor (George Clooney), Best Original Screenplay (Alfonso Cuarón and Jonás Cuarón), Best Original Score (Steven Price)

For Your Consideration: Philomena

Philomena (2013)

If we’ve learnt anything from the last few years (and only God knows whether we have) it’s that journalists are a bunch of little shits.

Possibly the most remarkable thing about this fresh and unexpected acquired knowledge, is that it was left to two of Britain’s most dazzlingly inscrutable celebrities to take the time out of their hectic schedules and impart it upon us unworthy hordes. Thank you, Hugh. Much appreciated, Steve. We truly are unworthy.

And yet, Steve Coogan has been big enough and, dare I say (for the very real fear of being sued for defamation), ugly enough to adapt journalist Martin Sixsmith’s The Lost Child of Philomena Lee – the account of his investigation into the inhumanely cruel swiping of Philomena’s infant son by the nuns from her Irish convent in the 195os – and even to cast himself in the role.

After being recently shamed out of his position as a spin-doctor for the Labour government, Sixsmith is initially reluctant to take on the eponymous Philomena’s (Judi Dench) human interest story. Until, that is, he realises it could be good for his dwindling profile.

The disarming strength of the film is that it plays out as a classic buddy road movie between Sixsmith and Lee, as their search for her son goes transatlantic. He’s a curmudgeon through and through. He goes to swanky (with, seemingly, a silent ‘s’) parties and the opera. Has plans to write a book about the Russian Revolution. Is used to a first-class lifestyle and, a hardened atheist (his exclamation of “Fucking Catholics” is a comedy highpoint), has no qualms in treading all over the little guy. She is entirely lead by her faith, enjoys nothing more than to indulge in trashy romance novels and is awed by the size of American food portions.

Courtesy of Si Hill – http://www.SiHill.co.uk – @Siiighhill

Inevitably, but with no ounce of saccharine and only a mere smattering of cliché, Sixsmith realises that there is more to life than his career and profile. He establishes himself as Philomena’s champion, finding it impossible but to become embroiled in her sorrow.

As do we, for a tag-team of reasons. The first is Dame Judi. The very essence of charm, humility wit, and helplessness, it is an astonishing turn that the Academy will find difficult to ignore. Although Cate Blanchett’s Blanche DuBois-esque soak in Blue Jasmine is hot favourite, only a Godless bastard would begrudge Dench to beat Cate to Oscar number two.

The second is the razor-sharp script from Coogan and appropriately named co-writer Jeff Pope – winner of the Best Screenplay award at the Venice Film Festival. Its power is derived from the jarring contrasts between devilishly funny and demoniacally tragic. The laugh out loud lines are invariably succeeded by an incident of crushing sadness. The effect is genuinely flooring.

Unfortunately – and as a lover of all things Partridge I say this with a heavy heart – the film’s one real misstep is Coogan’s casting. There is nothing actively wrong with his performance. But the haughty, self-interested Coogan that we have previously been proffered in the likes of The Trip and, you know, The News, is so close to Sixsmith that it is difficult to get lost in the character. This is only exacerbated by the utter quality of his opposite number; imagine having to compete with Dench. In The Trip ‘Coogan’ claims that he has lost out on many roles to Michael Sheen and, reluctant as he is to do so, he will perhaps only be successful on the big screen by taking on more diverse and caricatured personalities.

But Philomena is a human interest story of the highest order and if, as Sixsmith grouchily asserts at the head of the tale, such stories are for weak-minded, ignorant people then my old boss is completely correct – I’m about as weak-minded and ignorant as they come.

Philomena; 2013; Dir: Stephen Frears; Stars: Judi Dench; Steve Coogan; Anna Maxwell Martin; 98 mins; 8/10; Probable nominations: Best Actress (Judi Dench); Possible nominations: Best Adapted Screenplay (Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope)

For Your Consideration: Captain Phillips

Captain Phillips (2013)

How does that old joke go again? Ah yes…

Q.  What’s the difference between The United States of America and a gang of Somali pirates?

A.  One is a thieving parasite on the world; breaking international laws; breaching universal morals; callously and violently stealing things that don’t belong to it; generally reviled by every nation on earth and, what’s more, it doesn’t even seem to give a damn or consider for one moment that what it is doing is wrong.

And the other is a gang of Somali pirates.

Good one, eh?

And so goes Paul Greengrass’s exceptional action thriller.  In adapting the true story of the eponymous Ricky P (SPIOLERZ!!!!!!1111) – who fought to defy the odds and ambushers after the merchant container ship under his charge was captured by Somali bandits – Greengrass highlights the parallels and, indeed similarities, between the protagonists and antagonists as a metaphor for their respective synecdochial equivalents.

The film opens by showing Phillips and his opposite number, the Somali rabble-rouser Muse (played by impressive debutant Barkhad Abdi) preparing for their fateful voyages. Throughout the piece each has ample opportunity to question and contemplate their own role and that of their superiors, while steadfastly asserting the correctitude of their mission objective. Although the resistance to vilify the Africans and aggrandise the yanks is a welcome change, this isn’t always executed subtly and occasionally the philosophical dialogue is somewhat heavy handed.

But, nobody is watching Captain Phillips for its politics and in all other departments it succeeds admirably.

It is the perfect vessel for Greengrass’s expertly honed pseudo-documentary unsteadicam style. A route well sailed in United 93 and the Bourne films that he helmed, Greengrass (together with his tried and tested collaborating cinematographer Barry Ackroyd) puts us up close and terrifyingly personal with the encounter. The result is a relentlessly absorbing action flick that accelerates pulses to the speed of the Bluebird.

The sense of jeopardy is exacerbated by the fact that the titular skipper is: a) a well drawn and rounded human man. Less Casey Ryback and more Captain Haddock, Phillips is tubby, anxious and has a tendency to rub his staff up the wrong way.  In spite of the globalised narrative, the film is an intensely personal story and when he ingeniously uses the resources around him and eventually selflessly puts the safety of his crew before his own, the viewer is compelled to will Phillips to safety; and b) it’s Tom flipping Hanks.

Courtesy of Martin Jones – http://www.torchydesign.co.uk

What a joy to see Hanks back in a truly great role, arguably his first (animations excepted) since 2002’s Catch Me If You Can. A physically grueling performance, look up the expression “being put through the ringer” in the dictionary and the ravaged, battered image of Hanks in the picture’s last scene is bound to appear. As the final act threatens to divert away from Phillips’s personal story – it verges on a combination of two of last year’s nominees Zero Dark Thirty and The Pirates! In an Adventure with Navy Seals! – thanks to remarkable acting from Hanks, the ultimate shot elevates the film to ‘must-watch’ acclaim.

It would be an injustice if Hanks doesn’t pick up his sixth Oscar nomination and floating the notion of matching Daniel Day-Lewis’s hat-trick of wins is legitimately not beyond the ocean of possibility.  He’ll be joined by Greengrass, who is likely to be among the five nominated directors and, if not, can console himself with a nailed-on Best Picture nod. Technical noms for sound, editing and cinematography are also probabilities, but in a strong year for supporting actors, I would not back Barkhad Abdi to mirror Haing S. Ngor’s win, or even nomination, for The Killing Fields.

I’ll soothe his woes by ending, as I started, with pirate-based ‘humour’…

Q.  Why are pirates called pirates?

A.  They just arrrrrgh!

Now make a film of that, Greengrass.

Captain Phillips; 2013; Dir: Paul Greengrass; Stars: Tom Hanks; Barkhad Abdi; Barkhad Abdirahman; 134 mins; 8/10; Probable nominations: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Tom Hanks), Best Cinematography, Best Editing, Best Sound Mixing, Best Sound Editing; Possible nominations: Best Supporting Actor (Barkhad Abdi), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Original Score