Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

Money Never Sleeps, Oliver Stone’s sequel to his hugely successful Wall Street, is steeped in nostalgia for the eighties and for the original film.

From the moment the title credits begin, audience members familiar with the original film are likely to think that they’ve been transported back in time. The title font is the same and once again New York’s skyline serves as its backdrop.

The main difference, however, is that Wall Street’s opening began at sunset with a dark orange glow eclipsing every aspect of New York’s concrete jungle. Much like the film itself, Money Never Sleeps begins in broad daylight and is generally glossier. Stone has put the emphasis on entertainment this time round and although he tries to balance it out with intellect, exemplified by a contemporary story on the financial crisis, it is a difficult juggling act for the director.

That is not to say that the original Wall Street wasn’t entertaining. That film ranks as one of Stone’s best works, one which encapsulates his aggressive, fast paced style. Therefore it is easy to see why he pays homage to the original so often. Even the best lines tend to be references to the previous film. A great early visual gag includes the DynaTac cellular phone that was synonymous with stockbrokers, and Gordon Gekko, in the eighties. Stone himself makes a cameo, as he did in the original, signifying his close attachment to the project.

What Money Never Sleeps lacks is the original film’s depth and intellect. Set in 2008 the film chronicles the economic recession through its impact on stockbroker Jake Moore, Shia La Boeuf, and his employers. The suicide of his boss and father-figure Louis Zabel, played by Frank Langella, leads Jake to question the ethics of his chosen profession.

In search of a new mentor Jake pursues Gordon Gekko, himself recently released from prison. Gekko is on a mission to warn the world of the crisis of capitalism and preach the truth about the irresponsible fat cats who ruined the banks. Conveniently Jake also happens to be in a relationship with Gekko’s estranged daughter Winnie, Carrie Mulligan. Both men play an interesting game of emotional trading as Gekko agrees to help Jake get even with the ruthless bankers who drove his boss to suicide in return for Jake reuniting him with his precious daughter.

Money Never Sleeps makes grand statements about the failure of capitalism. The subject, however, remains too complex to be accurately depicted in a film which is making a bid toward the multiplex crowd. Therefore the moments that deal with finance and globalised trading are mere distractions from the more powerfully emotional tale at the film’s core, one of family, betrayal and charity.

Stone’s glitzy aesthetic is in full swing throughout Money Never Sleeps. The film is full of extravagant parties and glamorous clubs. The director even throws in a superbike race for good measure. Nonetheless, Stone must be commended for evoking such a stunning portrait of New York, more beautiful and appealing than anything witnessed in recent Big Apple movies such as Sex and the City. At other times he overdoes it, such as the CGI overkill used to depict the viral nature of the modern technological landscape.

Although Money Never Sleeps is enthralled by the past, the best aspect of the cast are the new additions. First and foremost is Josh Brolin as James Bretton, the new villain of the tale. Bretton is a shadowy reptilian figure unwilling to let go of his lavish lifestyle and determined to make Jake his protégé. Like Gekko before him, he has all the best lines and consequently steals every scene he is in. After an invisible start, Mulligan also comes into her own during the second and third act. Her restrained performance providing an illuminating alternative to the macho posturing of the male dominated cast.

The various strands of Money Never Sleep’s bloated narrative fail to converge by the film’s conclusion. One thing the film can definitely lay stake to is being Stone’s most glossy affair. The end result is a messy yet compelling film, which is gloriously overstated throughout. Fans of the director’s filmography should agree that this is what he does best.

Shutter Island

Martin Scorsese’s latest production was the topic of intense speculation in the run up to its release. The fact that it was premiered at the Berlin Film Festival, outside of competition, in February set it aside from the prolific director’s previous efforts. The main difference being that Shutter Island’s release date fell outside the awards season calendar, whereas Gangs of New York, The Aviator and The Departed were all released towards the end of the year making them legible for awards contention. Initially the film was due to grace cinemas during the same timeframe as Scorsese’s prior features. Its delay was heralded as a sign of distribution difficulties. The consequent hype surrounding the production has inevitably worked in its favour. The film which marks Scorsese’s fourth collaboration with Leonardo Dicaprio has already crossed the $100 million mark in the US, making it Scorsese’s second highest grossing film after The Departed.

Set in 1954 the film follows U.S. marshal Teddy Daniels, Dicaprio, who is assigned the task of investigating the disappearance of a patient from Boston’s Shutter Island Ashecliffe Hospital. The negative response to his enquiries leads him to suspect the motives of the institution’s staff. Meanwhile a hurricane cuts off Teddy and his partner’s route back to the mainland. As Teddy probes the various facilities located around the grounds his paranoia increases. Haunted by the past and the increasingly eerie atmosphere of his present location, Teddy grows fearful of his surroundings and his own sanity.

Like Scorsese’s previous mainstream efforts, Shutter Island cannot maintain its grandiose ambition. The film, which could be considered the director’s first venture in to the horror genre, is an incoherent potboiler. Scorsese’s epic vision is betrayed by the opening widescreen shots of the island, accompanied by a pounding classical score which gives the impression that we are being thrust into the infamous Skull island from King Kong. The film touches upon themes of post war trauma, cold war paranoia and Nazi conspiracy theories. Scorsese’s attempts at grandeur sit uncomfortably alongside the film’s b-movie narrative. At first these clashing techniques create a delirious momentum, aided by Scorsese’s frenetic camerawork. Truth be told, the web of conspiracies concerning the House of Un-American Activities and Nazi brain experimentation initially seem like an entertaining prospect. The narrative twist in the third act introduces a manner of sensibility to the proceedings, but ultimately feels like an anti-climax.

The cast like the film itself provide a mixed bag of performances. Dicaprio retains the paranoid streak witnessed in his recent roles in The Departed and Body of Lies. The camp villains played by Ben Kingsley and Max Von Sydow are unintentionally comedic. The former seems to relish his turn as a sinister psychiatrist. The other supporting cast members such as Elias Koteas, Emily Mortimer and Michelle Williams are all unfortunately underused.

Shutter Island would have been an intriguing premise if it contained more of the stylistic flourishes associated with its director. Here, however, Scorsese uses every genre convention in the book and still cannot provide the edge of your seat thrills found in small scale horror films. In fact there are few truly startling moments in a film which borrows heavily from Hitchcock and also recalls The Shining in its depiction of ghosts and dead children. Although Dicaprio’s Teddy Daniels emphasises Scorsese’s ongoing fascination with mentally fragile characters he is not as enigmatic as his other anti-heroes such as Travis Bickle or Rupert Pupkin.

These days Scorsese seems content churning out conventional genre films, albeit with added commercial clout. Furthermore his venture into stylistic continuity with The Departed ended up resembling a pastiche of his former triumphs. The most astounding factor is that in America he is being celebrated for his efforts. Commercial viability aside, he was awarded his first Oscar for The Departed. Despite these shortcomings Scorsese remains an admirable film enthusiast. He is the ultimate fanboy who has transformed his love of film into a restless mission to celebrate world cinema and restore forgotten classics. Perhaps his barrage of side projects, including documentaries, has become more of a passion than narrative filmmaking. After viewing Shutter Island one wishes the passion that ignited his previous projects would return to his contemporary productions. A possible solution might be a complete A-list overhaul. Perhaps he needs to return to a smaller budget, cast a different leading man and work on a personal project. It would be great to see Scorsese once again venture out of his comfort zone.

3 Idiots

Loosely adapted from the Chetan Bhagat bestseller Five Point Someone, 3 Idiots tells the story of a road trip undertaken by two friends on a journey to find a long lost companion. The man Farhan and Hari seek is Ranchoddas Shamaldas Chanchad, also known as Rancho. The bond between these three men unfolds in a series of flashbacks as we learn of their time at the Imperial College of Engineering.  The enigmatic Rancho challenges the success driven ideology of the institution inspiring his friends to adopt his freethinking philosophy for themselves. He subsequently clashes with the university’s headmaster whilst romancing his daughter behind his back. The three idiots, as their teachers refer to them, disband after graduation. Whilst Farhan and Hari keep in touch their friend Rancho disappears. Ten years later they reunite amidst mysterious circumstances in an effort to track down the man who made such an impression on their lives.

3 Idiots’ biggest flaw is that Aamir Khan, now in his mid-forties, is too old to be a believable protagonist. His character Rancho is a university student who is obviously supposed to be in his mid-twenties or younger. Although his star power is an obvious commercial draw, Khan’s persona as one of the most successful Bollywood stars of the last twenty years, if not all time, detracts from the role. Therefore the film requires a suspension of belief in order for the audience to root for the protagonist. The same can also be said for the narrative as a whole, which is overly ambitious and often unbelievable, even though its slapstick comedy is not grounded in realism.

For those unfamiliar with the conventions of the Indian film industry the running time, over two and a half hours, may seem lengthy for what is essentially a campus comedy. This is not helped by a weak soundtrack, minus a couple of songs which aid the narrative instead of attempting standalone success. Being a mainstream Bollywood film, however, 3 Idiots is not as purely juvenile as the gross out films that have come to be associated with the campus comedy genre, such as its western counterparts Porky’s and American Pie. It aims a lot higher drawing comparisons to Good Will Hunting, albeit with added fart jokes.

Like any “masala” film 3 Idiots tries to please all demographics of the cinema-going audience. Its simple message of overcoming the odds and learning to be yourself is universal. There is also a strong emphasis on the family unit and an added dose of romance. The gags come hard and fast but are accentuated by the emotional weight of the sombre scenes. The fact that it actually succeeds despite all of its shortcomings is nothing short of a miracle.  In the words of the film’s protagonist Ranchoddas Shamaldas Chanchad “aal is well”.

The juvenile humour and rapid pace of 3 Idiots cloaks the ambitious and thought provoking film at its core. The self-referential idealistic romantic side-plot highlights the film’s refusal to take itself seriously. Underneath its bright and energetic surface, however, lurks a dark subtext which deals with suicide amongst India’s student population. The burgeoning pressure of economic expansion on the country’s youth population haunts the cast of self-tortured individuals. Meanwhile through Rancho the filmmakers dissect the hierarchical structure of India’s education system.

The humour remains dark throughout the course of the film with the best gags coming from the blackly comic moments. To his credit the film’s director Rajkumar Hirani uses imaginative visual gags to compliment the film’s surreal tone. The repetitive use of black and white in the scenes that take place in Hari’s house are a brilliant spoof of the sentimental portrayal of poverty in classical Bollywood cinema. Aside from the clever self-referential narrative, the film provokes gut-busting belly laughs. At times it evokes comparison to the Farelly Brothers, who mastered dark humour and gross out gags in genre classics such as Dumb and Dumber.

3 Idiots’ barrage of jokes is reminiscent of the wisecracking classic Hollywood films such as His Girl Friday and Bringing Up Baby. Unlike those golden age masterpieces, however, it does not contain a single interesting female character. Pia, as played by Kareena Kapoor, is bland to the point of nonexistence. The Female sorority found at a mixed university campus is also completely ignored. We glimpse girls onscreen in the classrooms but they remain nameless and voiceless. The focus of the film is on the male student body. Both Aamir Khan and Sharman Joshi are satisfactory in their roles. The standout performance belongs to Madhavan as the quiet conformist Farhan. He portrays the young man with reserved grace as an internally tormented individual.

The fact that 3 Idiots manages to maintain its comedic momentum whilst successfully tackling larger complex themes is what makes it a cut above the rest. Aamir Khan’s Rang de Basanti tried to achieve a similar feat. That production’s ambitious storyline, however, worked against it. The first half of the film was about male bonding while the second half concerned itself with student protests and terrorism. Consequently Rang de Basanti felt like a muddled film that had crudely been split in two. Much like the motivation behind Farhan and Hari’s nostalgic quest to find their friend Rancho, the success of 3 Idiots lies in its unity.

The Panic in Needle Park

I’d like to start by drawing attention to the awful poster. Its religious tone draws parallels to the silent propaganda films that promoted the temperance movement. Panic, however, is much more than a junkie romance or an old-fashioned moralist message on the dangers of drug use.

Panic is a film full of surprises. Most notably it is credited as Al Pacino’s breakthrough. Both Francis Ford Coppolla and Dino de Laurentis have stated that it brought the actor to their attention. Pacino was subsequently cast in both filmmakers’ respective projects, The Godfather and Serpico. Jerry Schatzberg, the film’s director, worked with Pacino again in 1974 casting him alongside Gene Hackman in Scarecrow. Although I have not seen Scarecrow the clips of it that I have watched indicate that aesthetically it contains similarities to Panic. Both films show Schatzberg to be a promising talent with a distinctive vision. The director’s career, however, sadly never progressed past his auspicious early productions. Perhaps there was no audience for his gritty, realist take on the lives of America’s displaced citizens.

As stated in the title sequence Needle Park is the name bestowed upon the junction of Sherman Square in New York by its inhabitants. In the film the area is populated with cheap hotels, diners and run-down apartment blocks. The people that dwell in this dilapidated environment include pimps, prostitutes, drug addicts and petty criminals. Bobby, Al Pacino, is both an addict and a thief. The film follows his relationship with Helen and their increasing drug use.

The environment that the film creates correlates a number of the social problems that affect Needle Park. The community of drug users, dealers and prostitutes co-exist and the boundary between their identities is blurred. Bobby, for example, starts the film as an addict who steals in order to feed his addiction. Later, however, he starts dealing and working with the substance manufacturers. His relationship with Helen and their excessive dependence on heroin leads him to use her as a sexual object when he needs his next hit. Eventually Helen herself becomes a prostitute and thief as she robs her clients. What at first seems like a food chain, a hierarchical system of corruption, ends up becoming a vicious cycle of despair.

Another component in the cycle are the cops that monitor Needle Park, who are as self-absorbed as the junkies that they detest. “They all rat” is what one of the detectives tells Helen when trying to bribe her into setting up Bobby. This only adds to the atmosphere of paranoia that governs the region. Ultimately the cops are portrayed as a deterrent to the problem rather than a solution. Their method of blackmailing criminals into betraying one another makes Needle Park an increasingly volatile place.

Schatzberg sympathetically portrays his displaced characters. Their conflicting emotions present a contrast to the cold and manipulative motives of the police force. Helen best reflects this theme. She is presented as a soft spoken, fragile and helpless female. At the beginning of the film we find her bed ridden after getting an illegal abortion. She is not, however, an addict. Her exposure to Bobby’s lifestyle subsequently leads her to start using. In the process her dependent nature is revealed. She is more reliant on men than drugs. We later learn that she ran away from home and therefore her attachment to men is almost out of necessity as she is homeless. Bobby is in the same predicament, navigating the vacant spaces he can use as shelter and stealing in order to survive.

Schatzberg’s film borrows from the neo-realist tradition by detailing the hardships of marginalised communities. The exclusion of music from the film’s soundtrack places further emphasis on its commitment to realism. Furthermore the use of handheld camera in the sequence in which Bobby overdoses, coupled with quick cuts, deliberately gives the scene a documentary style, Cinéma vérité appearance. The superb editing in the film also adds to the moments of dramatic tension. The first time Bobby gets busted is an excellent example of the film's imaginative use of the technique. The simple cut to show Bobby showering in prison, which takes place immediately after he tries to rob a truck, is a brilliant example of how to successfully build suspense and how to maintain an economically tight narrative structure.

The poor marketing that Panic received has ultimately detracted from its layered storyline, instead focusing too much on the tragedy at its core and the star-making turn of its protagonist. The open-ended conclusion, unlike so many romantic tragedies, is not about sacrifice. In fact it reinforces the film’s central theme concerning the hopeless cycle of despair faced by Needle Park’s residents, if you can call them that. Therefore Panic is a more complicated affair than the countless other independent films of its ilk. 

Silent Running

Silent Running (1972) is a cult classic and with the recent return of thought provoking sci-fi films it has reached an influential status. Duncan Jones the director of Moon has referred to it as an instrumental film in the conception of his production. Silent Running’s themes of isolation, and technology versus nature are inherent to Jones’s directorial debut. Furthermore they fit in with other important seventies science fiction films, among them 2001: A Space Odyssey and Solaris. Significantly Douglas Trumbull, the film’s director, had worked on the former film as a special effects supervisor. He was obviously affected by the scope of Kubrick’s film; consequently its influence can be felt in Silent Running.

The action is set in space in the distant future. Housed in giant greenhouses aboard an American Airline’s commercial fleet are the remains of Earth’s natural environment. Freeman Lowell is the man responsible for monitoring these plantations along with his trio of colleagues. Lowell has devoted eight years of his life to the so-called conservation project. His commitment to his duty has made him an outcast from his workmates. Unlike Lowell they see no future in the programme and yearn to abandon it and return home. Their wish is granted when their supervisors instruct them to detach and destroy the greenhouses. Stunned by the news Lowell manages to save one of the domes. In the ensuing struggle he plunges himself into the darkness of space. Alone on the sole remaining ship with only the worker drones for company, Lowell faces the loneliest journey of all.

Freeman Lowell’s doomed quest provides one of the most thought provoking sci-fi narratives ever filmed. Its timeless message is still relevant today. The film speaks volumes about our environmental concerns especially when compared to a contemporary film like Avatar, which half-heartedly incorporates the theme into its plot. Unlike Avatar it is a film that subtly deals with its subject matter instead of crudely manipulating its audience.

The film’s subdued tone is most evident in the way it makes reference to the past. The unnamed tragedy that the Earth has undergone is a case in point. Throughout the film the reasons behind the conservation project remain unclear. A number of images and dialogue, however, offer some insights. Lowell’s reluctance to return home for example is met with surprise by his co-workers. They point out that unemployment and poverty has been eradicated but Lowell’s contempt is toward the synthetic nature of life that awaits him. Furthermore there are visual indications of the conditions on Earth. For instance when Lowell is confronted by a deteriorating forest an effective tracking shot follows him as he races to find a cure. This is intercut with a pov tracking shot in an earthly forest, reflecting his motivation. Another scene indistinctly refers to our planet without resorting to a flashback. In it we see Lowell reacting with terror to an image of dead trees in a book.

Although Silent Running lacks the scale and budget of other sci-fi films of its time such as 2001 and Star Wars, its special effects still look impressive. The most striking shots are of the exterior of the ships and the greenhouses they are carrying. The intricate attention to detail makes them a joy to behold. There are, however, a number of elements that have not stood the test of time and seem out of place. First and foremost is the soundtrack which contains a collection of songs by Joan Baez. Baez, a popular folk singer at the time, is heard in the poignant montages when Lowell is seen dwelling the ship’s interior in a bid to occupy his time. Her songs, however, detract from the emotional resonance of the scenes. This is exemplified by the one similar sequence in which her voice cannot be heard, instead replaced by the film’s score. The scene is aided by the haunting music and does not detract from its stark, futuristic melancholy.

Another shortcoming is the design of the ship’s drones. They look like portable air-conditioners with legs. The latter humanistic feature becomes relevant when they become Lowell’s only companions. In fact his one-way banter with the silent drones provides a welcome dose of comic relief in the hopeless scenario.

Although Silent Running has an optimistic finale it was never going to achieve commercial success. With very few characters it relies heavily on its protagonist’s ability to carry the film. Accordingly Bruce Dern is commendable as Freeman Lowell, initially creating a cold and distanced persona and gradually exposing its fragility. The unconventional narrative, however, contains no heroes, villains or romance. Instead its heightened use of imagination encourages the same amount of input on the audience’s behalf. Therefore despite its flaws Silent Running is nonetheless a rewarding experience.

Avatar

Written, produced and directed by James Cameron, Avatar has been over ten years in the making and is now the highest grossing film of all time. Cameron has proved that he is once again king of the world by beating the box office record that he set with his previous film Titanic.

Set in the future Avatar is a science-fiction action adventure which follows the arrival of disabled ex-marine, Jake Sully, on a distant moon named Pandora. A corporation is exploiting the planet with the assistance of a crew of former marines who are after its valuable resources. Jake agrees to take part in a mission to evacuate the indigenous people of Pandora, known as the Na’vi, from a targeted site. By inhabiting an avatar that has been genetically modified using the DNA of Jake’s twin brother and a Na’vi, he is ordered to monitor and influence the planet’s indigenous population. Whilst befriending the Na’vi Jake falls in love with a local tribe leader’s daughter named Neytiri. Consequently Jake is confronted by the dilemma of his allegiance in the face of impending war.

In the vein of most science-fiction tales Avatar’s narrative contains a number of thematic subtexts that mirror our own reality and history. Parallels can be made to the false pretence of the Iraq war and the neglect and terror faced by the indigenous populations of America and Australia. The film also alludes to contemporary environmental concerns such as deforestation and climate change. This particular theme is most evident in the Na’vis relationship with their natural environment with which they share an intimate bond.

For a major blockbuster this is, to a certain extent, admirable and brave storytelling. The message or moral of the film, however, remains clouded and confused throughout. The filmmaker has refused to fully realise these issues in favour of optical spectacle. Therefore the film’s subtexts take a backseat to its visuals. The ambition to achieve a revolutionary technological palette has consequently diminished numerous filmic elements. The film suffers from a lack of characterisation, a cliché-ridden narrative and subsequently retains little emotional impact. In reference to its environmental concerns, the script renders them laughable due to the ghastly dialogue. Cameron comes across as a naïve hippie yearning for a long forgotten past. The film’s unoriginal narrative has been compared to the idealistic yarn Dances with Wolves with which it contains a stark resemblance. The final act is also reminiscent of another action adventure epic, namely Braveheart.

In relation to the film’s ongoing success it seems that its flaws are being overlooked in favour of its striking imagery. Admittedly Cameron has revolutionised 3D technology by creatively utilising it to create an immersive world in Pandora. The attention to detail in relation to the planet’s landscape and wildlife is impressive. As is to be expected from the director of Aliens and True Lies, the film’s action set pieces are also thrilling. Most notable among them is when Jake learns to master the winged creatures that the Na’vi use as a mode of transport and the final battle between the humans and aliens.

As mentioned earlier characterisation is a weak point in the narrative. The women in Jake’s life, however, are the most interesting. Neytiri is more than a female love interest, in fact by the film’s conclusion she has become the most captivating character of all. She educates Jake and gradually falls in love with her pupil yet remains fiercely independent. Her choices and character growth make her more believable than any of the humans in the film. Another interesting role is that of Dr Grace Augustine, played by Sigourney Weaver. The actress has re-united with Cameron after a gap of twenty-three years; it was in 1986 that she starred in Aliens. Weaver relishes her role as an ambitious scientist who sympathises with the indigenous tribes of Pandora. Over the course of the film she also develops a maternal bond with Jake.

The commercial benefits that Cameron’s prior productions have reaped put him in an unparalleled position of power in Hollywood. This in turn allows him freedom and the ability to invest time and money in his projects. His visual ambition and commercial drive, however, outweigh his commitment to original storytelling. Furthermore his contempt towards his human actors is evident throughout the film. On the other hand his half-baked attempt at creating believable CG characters is also deplorable. Therefore Avatar would have ultimately been better as a video game or a cinematic theme park ride similar to the ones in Universal Studios and Disneyland. Its traits are similar to these other formats than the art of film.

The Cult of Miami Vice

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0430357/board/flat/84415781?p=1

Katalin Varga

British director Peter Strickland’s debut feature is a stunning piece of work. Made on 16mm film and produced independently it was picked up by Libra productions and screened at the Berlin Film Festival where it was also nominated for the Golden Bear. Shot in the Transylvanian region of Romania, the story concerns a middle-aged woman who is left homeless when her husband finds out that she was raped and that their child is a product of that act. With her son Orban in tow, Katalin sets out on a mission of vengeance to find and punish her tormentors.

In a recent article printed on the New York Times website Stanley Fish commented on the ongoing popularity of revenge films at the U.S. box office. Two of the recent successes associated with the genre, one of which is mentioned in the article, are Taken and Law Abiding Citizen. A film like Katalin Varga, however, will never get the marketing and publicity attributed to those productions and most likely pass undetected on limited release at cinemas. The reason for this is that the film is more concerned with creating a unique environment for its characters to inhabit rather than focusing on the perverse violence undertaken by the protagonist. The latter scenario has become a prototype for the genre. Katalin Varga, however, is more thought provoking in its subtle approach to its overbearing narrative arc. The ending packs such a shock that no number of gruesome deaths can compete with its impact.

The film’s cinematography is particularly striking bestowing its location a pastoral quality. The soundtrack by Steven Stapleton and Geoff Cox is hauntingly atmospheric automatically attaching a sense of dread to Katalin’s journey. Together the two elements blend to create the kind of suspense that is associated with the mythical region of the film’s location. In particular one remembers Bram Stoker’s Dracula, a prominent piece of literature that was set in the same location. There are repetitive shots of a dark forest shown from Katalin’s point of view which are related to the horrific experience she underwent but also bring to mind the supernatural images of the novel.

Strickland has gone on record as stating that he was trying to avoid any connection to the vampiric myth associated with the region. His film, however, contains a larger more contemporary evil. It is the patriarchal menace of society that terrorizes the film’s protagonist. The narrative contains hardly any benevolent male characters and it is the women who continuously suffer at their hands. Saying that, Strickland does manage to make the viewer sympathise with Orban’s genetic father, Antal. Upon learning from Katalin that she was his victim there is a genuine sense of responsibility and grief in his behaviour. At the disgust of the boy’s mother he even begins to bond with Orban.

Apart from its ending the film contains several emotionally resonant moments. In particular Katalin’s monologue that she recites to Antal and his wife describing how she was raped is an intense sequence. Katalina’s dialogue transforms what is at first a horrific memory into a redemptive fairy tale. She recounts how she was told to persevere after the encounter by the animals of the forest. The scene contains no flashbacks and is ultimately better for it because we are left with an account that takes on mythical proportions.

Katalin Varga is a huge accomplishment for its crew and director. Any reservations one has of its amateur status, being shot on 16mm and independently produced, are laid to rest once its arresting visuals are experienced. Furthermore it contains well developed characters brought to life through solid performances by the cast. It deserves wider recognition as a progressive film which successfully subverts the genre conventions associated with revenge films.

Where the Wild Things Are

Spike Jonze’s latest directorial effort has been surrounded by much intrigue and inevitably much hype. Since his two collaborations with writer Charlie Kaufmann, Being John Malkovich and Adaptation, Jonze has amassed a cult following. So when word first got out that he had been chosen to adapt Maurice Sendak’s beloved children’s book Where the Wild Things Are excitement hit fever pitch, well at least in western film blogs and publications. Jonze’s own geeky look and indie sensibility meant to many that he would be the ideal candidate to bring the source material to the big screen. His inventive and groundbreaking work in the fields of music video and skateboard video showed him to be a playful yet progressive talent who also had crossover appeal. Finally, and perhaps most crucially, he had the approval of the book’s author Maurice Sendak who is now credited as a producer on the film.

After continuous scheduling delays Where the Wild Things Are was finally released in December. The initial excitement and hype has meanwhile turned to intrigue and debate over the merit of the final product. Delays usually mean that a studio is unhappy with a film and its commercial appeal. Had restrictions been placed on Jonze’s creativity due to the nature of the material and the film’s relatively large budget? On first impression one can’t say that they have yet the film isn’t a complete success either.

It seems that the director has had an incredibly hard time bulking up a short children’s book. The original story concerns a young boy named Max who, upset by a quarrel with his mother and in need of attention, escapes to an imaginary world inhabited by huge animal-like beasts. They accept Max and crown him as their king. Mayhem and mischief follow as Max bonds with the creatures. Inevitably he returns home and finds that his supper is still warm and that all is forgiven.

Their are notable differences between the book and the film. Most prominently Jonze has tried to flesh out the characters, particularly Max and the Wild Things who all have their own distinctive voices and personalities. Max is immediately singled out as a loner. At the start of the film he is shown building himself an igloo outside his house. After it is destroyed by his sister’s friends he takes his revenge by running amok in her room. Later he argues with his mother when he is disgruntled by the male presence in the house, what seems to be his mother’s boyfriend. He bites her hand when she tries to grab him; the ensuing tension is the catalyst for his escape. Max can come across as a spoilt child but he is also a fragile and sensitive character. His longing for acceptance is reflected by his relationship with the wild things. His specific affection for two of the wild things, namely Carol and KW, is due to his craving for maternal figures. There is one symbolic sequence in particular that emphasises Max’s fragility. In it he climbs into KW’s stomach in order to hide from a disgruntled Carol and is shown curled up in a foetal manner.

A lot more attention has also been paid to the wild things’ environment. Their world is bathed in hazy, natural light and consists of endless forests and desert. Together with the wild things Max utilizes his natural surroundings to build a fort. It consists of a large towering sphere in which he and the wild things live. A visual highlight of the film is a wonderful tracking shot from Max’s point of view as he runs toward his majestic creation. The world of the wild things also acts as a huge playground in which Max and his friends recklessly chase and play with each other. In these scenes the adventurous and simple-minded wild things resemble the crew of the television show Jackass, which Jonze co-created, as they stumble over and fling each other about.

Jonze must be commended for capturing the recklessness of youth in his set pieces. Furthermore he has drawn an incredible performance from his star the young Max Records who plays the protagonist. The voice cast which includes James Gandolfini, Paul Dano and Forest Whitaker are also excellent. Finally one must also praise the brilliant soundtrack by Karen O and the Kids which encapsulates both the melancholic tone of the film’s opening and its chaotic core. Emotionally, however, the film offers an empty conclusion. Jonze is trying to get at bigger issues of environmentalism and alienation through the script’s reference to the dying sun and the natural wildlife of the wild things world. Even the deserts outside the lush forests can be viewed as a comment on desertification. None of these themes however is fully realised and in the end the film lands somewhere between the director’s artistic sentiments, envisioned in the occasional visual flair, and its empty, frivolous narrative.