This site will share with you hundreds of book and film reviews written since 2009. Also a chance to discuss these reviews together with some of my creative writing to be added.
Three carloads of Turkish policemen with accompanying prosecutor, doctor, diggers and two hand-cuffed prisoners arrested for murder search the bleak Anatolian countryside for the victim’s grave. It is dark, perhaps because the prime suspect has already been leading them on a wild goose chase for some time. Another possible reason is the pure incompetence of the police which often borders on comedy, together with the lack of resources to do their job effectively – this being the complaint of others encountered on the way.
In the course of a night and the following day, we are given an insight into Turkish life. We learn much about the characters’ attitudes through their banter and confidences, and their facial expressions in some fine pieces of naturalistic acting. I was reminded at times of Mike Leigh, in the authentic scenes which could well be based on improvisation. The dialogue is often quite like a stage play, with little action, for which the subtitles are sometimes barely adequate.
My main problem is the extremely slow pace, with the film taking two-and-a-half hours, which would have been transformed for me into a much more powerful work if reduced by at least sixty minutes. Also, vital information on the motive for the murder is delivered so quickly that I had to check the plot summary on Wikipedia to confirm what had happened.
So, although this is a plot with great potential, well-acted with striking photography I cannot give it more than 3 stars.
I do not know how close this film is to the original novel, but it is a vivid and moving portrayal of how a tragedy can turn a lively and appealing ten-year-old into a violent delinquent. Nowadays, Lewis Aldridge would receive counselling and therapy, which might not necessarily work, of course. However, in the stuffy convention of England in the 1940s-50s, his traumatised inability to account for the tragic incident makes him an object of suspicion, even for his father Gilbert. It does not help that, recently returned from the war, Gilbert is a virtual stranger to his son, and that his uptight inability to abandon his stiff upper lip makes him unable to show the boy any natural emotions of love and sympathy.
It is agonising to see how Lewis’s life spirals inexorably out of control, and to doubt that the tale can ever reach a positive conclusion. Problems are compounded by his relations with the neighbouring family of Gilbert’s boss, who are in their respective ways even more dysfunctional than the Aldridges, hiding their problems behind masks of well-heeled respectability.
Although some scenes are a little clunky, and I could have done with subtitles to catch all the dialogue, the film is very powerful in arousing empathy for Lewis as he is repeatedly misunderstood and driven into a downward spiral. It could be that the unrelenting nastiness of some characters is a little exaggerated, and the inhabitants of Waterford somewhat stereotyped in their prejudices, but it is a compelling drama, evocative of a bland, stuffy 1950s which could drive bored housewives to drink.
Demure, unaware of her sexual appeal, eighteen-year old Ida is about to take her vows as a nun. Brought to the convent as an orphan, she knows nothing of life in the outside world. The Mother Superior insists that Ida visits her sole remaining relative, who turns out to be a chain-smoking, hard-drinking, promiscuous and clearly embittered Communist woman judge. Ida is introduced abruptly to a corrupt, secular world, lightened by the lure of soulful jazz, dancing and handsome band players. She also learns about how her parents died, with all this symbolises of the dark side of recent Polish history. Will she be destroyed by these new experiences? Can she return to life as a nun?
Visually slow-paced, in what may be an East European tradition, yet covering events in brief fragments, this provides what seems to be an authentic picture of Poland in the early `60s, the black-and-white photography adding to the impression of general poverty and contradictions of a strongly rural, Catholic society under an imposed atheist Communist regime. The film exposes some of the unresolved conflicts in a troubled, occupied post-war country.
This subtle film, which reveals its story gradually, deserves the praise it has attracted, even if the ending is initially disappointing.
Visually beautiful, well-acted with some impressive recreations of harvesting by hand in golden cornfields or quenching a conflagration in a barn, this latest filming of Thomas Hardy's classic did not live up to my hopes. Perhaps my memories of the lovely Julie Christie in the role of the headstrong landowner Bathsheba Everdene and the fatally attractive Sergeant Troy in the shape of Terence Stamp make this disappointment inevitable. Yet I was prepared to give this film a chance.
Reviewers have criticised Belgian Mathew Schoenaert's English – which I thought was rather good. It bothered me more that none of the main characters had any trace of a Dorset accent. Perhaps because of the need to cram a complex story into two hours, the storyline proceeds in rapid, jerky steps with no time for development of situations and characters. Director Schlesinger's much longer 1967 film, made practicable by the convention of an interval, had the benefit of more scope to establish these aspects. I missed the originality of the earlier film, from which, for instance, I still recall the surreally tragic transport of the coffin of a young girl who has died in childbirth as seen through the eyes of the drunken carter. The wild coastal landscape also seemed to play more of a part in the first film from the memorable opening shots. It is worth making comparisons with the 1967 film of which a digitally enhanced version is scheduled for release in June 2015.
I accept that the new version may provide sharper insights into the issue of female equality and fulfilment in a society where convention demanded that men proposed marriage to women they barely knew, taking it for granted that they would play a subservient role in their husbands's lives. Yet it is more romantic and soft-centred, insufficiently moving, leaving little doubt from the outset which of the trio of stalwart shepherd Gabriel Oak, repressed beneath his suave exterior landowner Mr Boldwood and sword-flashing cad Sergeant Troy will ultimately prove to be the successful rival for Bathsheba's hand.
Tomas and Ebba, a Swedish couple whose marriage may already be under pressure, take their two young children on a ski trip to the Alps. When a controlled avalanche exercise goes awry and seems to pose a serious threat, Tomas thinks only of saving himself. Ebba is shocked by the incident, but even more so by her husband's inability to admit to his action. By turns humorous, moving or cringe-making, the ensuing chain of events dissects human relationships – marriage, family, gender roles and friendships. The film may also intend to explore Swedish inhibitions over expressing emotions, which were apparent to me forty odd years ago, although times may have changed, but this aspect may not be clear to a non-Swedish audience.
"Force majeure" is a common clause in contracts that essentially frees both parties from liability when an extraordinary event or circumstance beyond their control prevents one side or the other from fulfilling their obligations. The film's title is therefore ambiguous. Does it refer to Tomas's failure to act as expected of a husband and father? Or, does it relate to Ebba's extreme reaction to her husband's behaviour?
I enjoyed the brilliant beauty of the mountains under snow, the discussions which rang true, and the relevant, thought-provoking ideas raised. A few scenes did not quite work for me, such as the events of the last "Day 5" of the ski trip, but the ending is unpredictable, interesting and open to different interpretations.
This period drama romance develops a fictitious episode in the life of André le Nôtre, famous landscape gardener employed by the capricious "Sun King", Louis X1V. Le Nôtre (played by Matthias Schoenaerts, at the time of writing a favourite choice for the role of handsome heartthrob) hires Sabine De Barra to add a little artistic chaos to his own formal style, which he senses is not quite enough to guarantee the king's approval for the designs of the gardens at Versailles. Since De Barra's rock garden with fountains ends up looking pretty formal to our eyes, the "chaos" seems to apply mostly to the characters' personal lives.
The course of events is predictable in this film which also seems too long in view of the essential thinness of the plot: 90 minutes might have been better than 117. Apart from the visual beauty of the scenes, the main interest lies in the portrayal of court life, an artificial bubble of luxurious excess, in which the courtiers at times literally dancing attendance on the king seem like pampered children in ludicrously ornate fancy dress, trapped in their privilege since they are free neither to leave the court, nor to express their true emotions, although overt flirtation seems permitted. The main point of suspense is over how De Barra became a widow and lost the young daughter, over whose memory she is obsessed.
I agree with the "professional" reviewers that although Kate Winslet plays De Barra with emotional honesty, the talents of a strong cast of actors are not shown to full effect by the script, pacing and plot. The Hollywood Reporter sums it up well for me by: "This decently acted film is agreeable entertainment, even if it works better on a scene by scene basis than in terms of overall flow."
Penniless American Mathias Gold, whose baggage is largely that of understandable neuroses, travels to the upmarket Parisian apartment left to him by his estranged father. He is shocked to find that the flat was purchased cheaply on a “viager” or life annuity basis, which means that he has inherited the obligation to pay the previous owner and long-term resident Mathilde a substantial monthly fee for the rest of her natural life. Although aged ninety-two, she seems robust enough to live for quite a few more years. Mathias’s attempts to find the money for the payments in the short run and solve the problem in the long-term, obstructed by Mathilde’s spiky daughter Chloé, form the theme of this bitter-sweet comedy, which turns quite dark at times as Mathias discovers more about his past.
Although this is not a great film, and I was left at the end confused over some aspects of the chronology of past events, it is well acted as one would expect from such luminaries as Maggie Smith, Kristen Scott-Thomas and Kevin Kline. There are some amusing scenes, poignant moments and picturesque shots conveying the ambience of the district of Le Marais au bord de la Seine. For me, this was sufficient to compensate for some of the corny aspects.
The lukewarm reviews lowered my expectations for a film which proved to be moving, over and above the poignancy of knowing the fate in a Nazi concentration camp that awaited the Jewish author Irène Némirovsky. She lived long enough to see the humiliation of the rapid French defeat in 1940, the brutal German bombardment of the helpless refugees toiling along the main roads out of Paris and the exposure of true character under pressure – some hoarding their wealth, others risking their lives to give what little they had to help others.
The film dramatises "Dolce", the second of the two parts to be completed out of the five intended for "Suite Française". Unlike Part 1, "Tempête en juin", which follows the fortunes of several very different sets of people fleeing the capital, "Dolce" has a tighter storyline. Lucille has led a quiet life, dominated by her mother-in-law, Madame Angellier (a spiky Kristen Scott-Thomas), as she waits for news from the Front of the husband she was pressured into marrying "for security". When the country town of Bussy is overwhelmed by the arrival of the victorious German occupiers, even Mme Angellier cannot refuse to billet an officer. Inevitably, Lucille is caught in the dilemma of being drawn to an "enemy" she has been instructed to cold shoulder, yet feeling obliged to help a neighbour whose stand against an abusive German has put his life in jeopardy.
Many characters may be stereotypes, but we see how the contrasting reactions of resistance, collaboration and passive acceptance are fed by social divisions: the arrogant local Viscountess, who hates the peasants enough to shop one of them to the Germans, with devastating results; the tenant's daughter driven to abject poverty by the rent-grabbing Madame Angellier, who sleeps with an enemy soldier for the material gain it may bring; the townspeople who seize the opportunity to spit at Lucille when they think she is doing the same thing.
The film-makers seem to have found the original climax of the book too subtle, and so spiced it up with a final chain of events which did do not quite "ring true" yet it is overall a thought-provoking, well-acted and atmospheric film which captures a strong sense of the times.
Alice is a highly regarded academic at Columbia University, celebrated for her publications, who has managed to find time to raise three children with her similarly talented husband. Her obsession with playing word games on her phone and her conspicuous inability to find a vital word during an important lecture are the first hints of the onset of “early stage Alzheimers”, all the more devastating since she is barely fifty and unusually ambitious and driven in what she still wants to achieve. The supreme irony is that her specialism is linguistics, her fascination with words and communication.
Julianne Moore deserves her Oscar in showing Alice in a succession of emotions from disbelief and rising anxiety, through fear and frustration to a kind of ultimate acceptance. The film is realistic in showing the differing reactions of her children, both to her and each other as regards how best to treat her. Her changing relationship with her husband is also convincing: he promises to be there for her, but to what extent can he be expected to give up his own intellectual activities and career prospects as she finds herself not only unable to work, but incapable of concentrating on anything – wanting only to spend her last months of lucidity with him on the beach where they enjoyed their first romance thirty years before.
This often unbearably moving film considers subtly the question of the point at which we cease to be ourselves and may reasonably have our lives organised by others to suit their priorities. The drama ends on as positive a note as can be hoped. Perhaps some of our sadness in watching it is the knowledge that some similar fate may lie in store for us, but with less loving support.
Henry Vlll's reign is one of the most intriguing periods in popular history but to appreciate Hilary Mantel's work requires a good understanding of the issues involved. The director Kosminsky has maintained her approach in providing little by way of explanation, and does not make clear the roles, let alone the names (which at least you get in the books), of many of the minor characters. The likely resultant confusion may well be more of a reason for viewers to turn off than the difficulty of identifying charaters in the flickering candlelight.
Kosminsky has managed to compress two quite hefty novels into six one hour episodes yet still maintain a slow pace because the books consist largely of description and Cromwell's internal reflections rather than action. The director has replaced descriptions with the use of authentic sets in Elizabethan dwellings like Montacute combined with painstaking attention to period detail – perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the series. Cromwell's thoughts have been handled with short flashbacks and the watchful, miss-nothing stares and glances of which Mark Rylance is a past master. Perhaps the puzzle as to what he is really thinking is part of the drama. Is he sizing Jane Seymour up as a malleable and hopefully fertile substitute for Anne Boleyn, or as a wife for himself, so that Henry's interest in the girl comes as a blow? Brilliant though he is, Rylance seems just too wiry, playful and sensitive to play the beefy, calculating fixer we see emerging from the shadowy background of the famous Holbein portrait, but no doubt this is legitimate dramatic licence.
In a perhaps intentionally "stagy" film production, Kosminsky has been true to Mantel's interpretation of Cromwell, if anything developing some of the characters more clearly through his tighter format. So, we see Henry becoming a capricious tyrant, although his sense of vulnerability over the lack of a son evokes our sympathy, surrounded as he is by scheming nobles. Similarly, Anne Boleyn's vicious bitchiness is ever more obviously a cloak for her own insecurity and growing sense of panic with each miscarriage, and at the end she goes to her death with a dignity that commands respect. Cromwell himself appears more ruthless as the plot progresses, prepared to twist and fabricate evidence and showing vengeance in making victims of men against whom he has a grudge, such as the young noblemen who mocked his former master Wolsey so cruelly in a masked play. But he too has become trapped in his role as the King's fixer, with no real choice other than to do Henry's bidding. It was an unpleasant surprise to find Thomas More, the saintly "man for all seasons", portrayed as a cruel bigot in Mantel's book. If anything, Kosminsky makes him rather more sympathetic, greatly reducing the trial scene which forms the climax of the book, to focus more on the interplay between More and Cromwell: the former wearily unable to sacrifice his beliefs, even to regain his freedom and home comforts, the latter giving vent to a rare burst of real feeling to express his anger over More's own persecution of reformers, yet still privately regretting the demise of someone he has admired from his poverty-stricken boyhood, although the privileged More does not admit to remembering him from then at all.
I understand why the series has been so highly praised, but feel it would have made more of an impact in a feature-length film, or a two-parter, like the recent stage play. For me, Wolf Hall as a book has a contrived quality, a hollow heart, which is inevitably reflected in this filmed version.
Antenna Reviews 