Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Rooney Mara’

If you’re one of those people who takes their cinema seriously, sooner or later you develop a list of directors who you follow – you keep an eye out for a new film and do your best to get to see it. Sometimes, though, you find yourself having seen most of someone’s filmography without having consciously made an effort to. So it is with me and Guillermo del Toro – I always feel slightly smug about having gone along to del Toro’s debut, Cronos, at the art house in Hull. Didn’t see Mimic or The Devil’s Backbone, I admit, but after that I’ve pretty much seen the lot, with the exception of Crimson Peak. This is usually the point at which I mention my regret at the del Toro films I haven’t seen, because they haven’t been made – his take on the Hobbit trilogy, and his adaptation of At the Mountains of Madness.

Having won Best Picture for his last film, The Shape of Water, you might have expected that the world would have been at del Toro’s feet and he would finally have managed to persuade a major studio to finance the Lovecraft movie. But no. (The latest word seems to be that the director is looking to do a version of the story with Netflix.) Considering that his past work has been nothing if not eclectic – it includes an idiosyncratic take on the vampire myth, one of the best Marvel Comics adaptations of the 2000s, a magic-realist fable about the Spanish Civil War and a big-budget homage to Japanese tokusatsu movies – it’s pushing it to describe any new project of his as an unexpected choice, but Nightmare Alley very nearly qualifies.

Nightmare Alley started life as a 1946 novel by William Lindsay Gresham; the 1947 film adaptation starring Tyrone Power is not especially well-regarded or well-known – I had no awareness of it until the advertising for the new movie started to appear. Bradley Cooper plays Stanton Carlisle, whom we first meet burying a body under the floors of a remote farmhouse, which he then proceeds to burn down. Clearly he is a man with a Past. He leaves all of this far behind and travels across the country, eventually finding himself drawn to the bright lights and questionable pleasures of a travelling carnival.

Carlisle persuades the proprietor of the carny, Clem (Willem Dafoe), to give him a job, and he makes friends amongst his new co-workers – fortune-teller Zeena (Toni Collette) and her partner, alcoholic former mind-reader Pete (David Strathairn). He also finds himself very much drawn to the carnival’s ‘electric girl’, Molly (Rooney Mara). Carlisle’s quick wit and natural savvy leads him to quickly discover many of the dark secrets on which the functioning of a carnival is based, but one eludes him – Pete’s old code-book, the basis of a potentially brilliant and lucrative act. Pete refuses to share it, insisting it is dangerous – successful mentalists invariably start to believe they really have special gifts, which inevitably results in a sorry downfall. But that won’t happen to Carlisle – will it?

As I mentioned, virtually all of del Toro’s past projects have been tied to the horror and fantasy genres one way or another, so it is a little unusual to find him at the helm of a psychological thriller with a distinctly noirish edge to it (indeed, a special edition of Nightmare Alley in black and white played a few engagements just to emphasise the connection). However, this is a thriller with particularly grotesque and macabre elements to it – the story itself is a cautionary tale of hubris and nemesis, the dark side of human nature and the underbelly of the entertainment industry, but del Toro’s handling of it takes it right to the edge of being an actual horror story in earnest.

Certainly, in the carny-set portion of the story, which makes up the first half of the film, there are various subtle references to Tod Browning’s Freaks, almost as you might expect, but these take the form of half-glimpsed things in pits and cages and assorted bottled nasties, rather than the actual human deformities so prominent in the 1932 film. It feels very much like a gothic melodrama, populated by all the stock characters you might expect – though brought to life with great skill by script and performers.

Only in the second act of the story does it really begin to resemble a film noir in earnest – Carlisle finds himself moving in higher echelons of society, only to find that the possession of wealth and taste does not necessary make their owners any less flawed or morally compromised. Here we find Cate Blanchett, seemingly channeling Veronica Lake as she gives a magnificent performance as a crooked shrink, and a rather scary Richard Jenkins as a millionaire with a dark past. It seems like there’s little to connect the two parts of the story, but this is a smartly structured script – the first half is carefully setting up everything that will happen later. The result is a film which develops a powerful sense of its own inevitable momentum – you know that things are going to go wrong, and go wrong bloodily, and the canny viewer will likely also be able to figure out well in advance what the final pay-off of the film is.

Del Toro handles proceedings with his usual powerful visual sense and aptitude for atmosphere, and the film is well-played by its ensemble. In some ways it does resemble a traditional awards-season studio movie – a lavish period-set adaptation with an all-star cast, and nobody taking an extended nap or having sex with a car – but it also has the slightly askew feel to it of the director’s other work, as well as being a skillful genre pastiche. On paper it sounds like an oddity more than anything else, a coming together of various talents, ideas, and sources that don’t sounds especially cohesive. But the result is a film which is always striking to look at, and quickly becomes an enthralling, if dark, story. Del Toro’s great achievement with The Shape of Water was to dress up an obviously derivative fantasy-horror story in such arty trappings that the academy voters forgot they were giving the Best Picture Oscar to a genre movie. I could imagine something similar happening with this movie too.

Read Full Post »

What is going on with movies these days? I am quite as comfortable not having my emotions unnecessarily perturbed as any other man on the cusp of middle-age who is more-or-less resigned to his place on the Asperger’s spectrum, but it seems like I can’t sit down to watch a movie these days without feeling a sudden rush of, well, feeling, sometimes to the point where I actually start, you know, actually emoting in the theatre itself. Is it my age? Am I coming down with Bendii Syndrome? Or is it just something about the films at the moment? It’s a poser.

Hey ho. The latest culprit is also the first major ‘based on a true story’ film I’ve seen this year (not sure that Silence strictly counts, and virtually certain that xXx: Return of Xander Cage doesn’t), Garth Davis’s Lion. This is a film based around story elements with which I feel no particular connection – Indian social services, international adoption agencies, hotel management, Google Earth – but, as someone I was talking to just the other day suggested, that which is most personal is also most universal, which may explain how it managed to bypass my defences so neatly.

lion

Things kick off in India’s Khandwa region in 1986, where we encounter five-year-old Saroo (Sunny Pawar), who is living in extreme poverty with his mother and siblings. Nevertheless he is happy, until one night when he and his elder brother Guddu (Abhishek Bharate) head off by rail to do a little casual labour. They are separated and Saroo ends up on the wrong train; two days later he arrives in Calcutta, 1500 miles away.

Saroo only speaks Hindi and the primary language in Calcutta is Bengali; also, no-one seems to recognise the name of his home. The child ends up living on the streets, only narrowly escaping all kinds of grim fates, and finally the authorities place him in a care home, which is really more like a rather brutal prison for children. And from here he is adopted by an affluent Tasmanian couple (played by Nicole Kidman and David Wenham).

Twenty years pass and Saroo grows up into a strapping young hotel management student (he is now played by Dev Patel, who does indeed look appropriately leonine), embarked upon a relationship with fellow trainee Lucy (Rooney Mara). Then a meal at the home of a friend from India sparks all kinds of memories, and someone casually suggests Saroo could work out roughly where his train odyssey began and use the then-new Google Earth to identify the station and backtrack from there to his actual home.

He dismisses the idea, but a seed has been planted, and it quickly turns into an obsession for him, as memories of his brother and mother resurface. Saroo becomes isolated from both his family and his partner as this seemingly-hopeless quest takes over his life. (And if you can’t guess how it all ends, I’m rather surprised.)

Got to say, I was rather dubious about this one when I first heard of it, because it just seemed like another attempt to channel that same sort of heartwarming subcontinental vibe as – apologies, but it’s inevitable – Slumdog Millionaire, while at the same time doing its bit to boost the share price of Google. I feel obliged to mention that my experiences watching films where Dev Patel plays a hotel manager have also been not entirely satisfying, either.

And the first two things at least do have at least a little bit of validity to them, in that the film can’t help but touch on some of the same topics as Danny Boyle’s big hit, and the Google logo does prominently feature throughout the second half of the film. Nevertheless, both of these things seem to happen only because they’re an intrinsic part of the story the film sets out to tell, rather than because of any other agenda on the part of the film-makers.

This is sort of a film of two halves, in that the first, quite-lengthy, non-Anglophonic section featuring Saroo’s travails as a small child lost in Calcutta is a very different proposition to the rest of the film featuring him as an adult. The fact that the opening is focused on a five-year-old boy, often in significant peril, inevitably makes it feel just a little bit manipulative, plus I suppose the setting and the fact it’s all in Hindi or Bengali also have a certain distancing effect. Speaking as a person of privilege from the First World, I found the story a bit easier to engage with once the setting and language became a little more familiar (and the film does address the issue of the gulf between these two worlds).

I suppose there’s a slight problem here in that this latter part of the film is short on what you’d call actual incident – the scriptwriter has spoken of the problem of ‘screens on screen’, and the perceived problems involved in stories largely revolving around people looking at computer peripherals. They have a good crack at making Saroo’s personal issues significant enough to influence the story – there’s the strain on his relationship with Lucy, plus the fact that he has a brother, also adopted from India, whose personal problems are of a different magnitude than his.

But it all really works, mainly because the performances are so strong. Wenham and Mara possibly don’t get quite the material they deserve, but Dev Patel gets a chance to do more than recycle his ‘lovably plucky young chap’ performance, and portray someone with some real angst and conflict going on. Nicole Kidman is also in more of a secondary role than you might expect, and her performance is very understated, but nevertheless highly effective – there’s one scene in particular where she talks quietly about the choices she has made in her life, and her hopes for her sons, and it’s one of those gut-punches of sheer human decency it’s almost impossible to resist.

The same can be said for most of the conclusion of the film, which articulates most clearly its themes of finding home and a connection to your family. You know more or less how this will play out. You know what’s going to happen. And yet, when it does, the sincerity of the film and the strength of the performances are enough to bypass your rational brain – if you’re anything like me, anyway – and the result is, well, as profoundly emotional as anything I’ve seen on screen in a long while.

Lion is the kind of film which in a normal year might sneak a couple of minor Oscars, but this year – I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s quite a movie of the very first rank, but it’s still skilfully made, with very impressive performances, and worth watching if you like a proper human interest drama. Other people may not take so kindly to having their emotions interfered with – but the fact remains that if you’re not deeply moved by the last few scenes of this film, there’s quite probably something organically wrong with you.

Read Full Post »