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.

Ramchand Pakistani

The following article is a review of Ramchand Pakistani, a film that was broadcast on Channel 4 in October as part of their Cinema Pakistan season. Whilst writing this article I became sidetracked with my opinions on the Pakistan film industry and the significance of a film such as Ramchand Pakistani emerging from this capricious environment.

Believe it or not Pakistan once had a movie industry. Located in Lahore, the cultural capital of the country, it was referred to as Lollywood and churned out amateur genre pictures on low budgets catered for male audiences. A steady output of films was released throughout the eighties and nineties and many cinemas gave the films precedence over foreign productions. A ban on Bollywood films also meant that the industry generated enough revenue to keep up momentum. Its status as an industry, however, has remained problematic for a number of reasons. Foreign competition and the thriving dvd piracy market in the country are its major obstacles. A person can walk into a legitimate shop in the capital Islamabad and buy box sets of their favourite shows or films for a small price. For the working class citizens of Pakistan cinema going is still a cheap form of entertainment. After all Bollywood is a contemporary multimedia giant because of the working class citizens that pay to view its unique brand of glossy escapism. Therefore it is a shame that Lollywood could never match its competitor. Lollywood’s output of generic productions aimed at working class males was regarded as proof of the immoral nature of the film industry by the nation’s conservative society. As a result a cinema full of young working class men was deemed an unsuitable environment for women and families. Therefore it was Lollywood’s refusal to address a wider audience that ultimately sealed its fate.

Mehreen Jabbar’s debut feature is significant for a number of reasons. It is among a handful of films that are currently being produced through collaborative efforts between Pakistan, India and the West. The fact that it is directed by a woman and contains a female protagonist reflects the progressive stance the film has. It deals sympathetically with its subject matter and characters showing a mature sense of restraint in relation to the heavy political issues it tackles. Adapted from actual events the narrative concerns a family that belong to the Hindu Dalit caste, discriminatorily referred to as “untouchables”. This particular family of husband, wife and child live near the border with India. The child, Ramchand, and his father accidently cross the meagre borderline and are captured by Indian forces and thrown in jail. The film then focuses on two parallel storylines concerning the torment of the father and child trapped in an overcrowded jail and the grief of the mother.

Identity is a major theme in the film. The script provides a series of interesting comments on the issues of nationalism and injustice. In the prison there are ‘no castes’ says an Indian officer and the multicultural inmates echo this statement. Yet there are signs of progress in the plot which the filmmakers want us to believe are achievable. Most notably in Ramchand’s relationship with a female police officer who initially won’t even touch him due to his background. Their friendship and the camaraderie of the inmates is part of the progressive stance the film takes.

Mehreen Jabbar must be commended for her debut feature film. She has announced herself as a distinct voice in an arena which required the presence of a female visionary. She manages to extract strong performances from her cast, which is mostly made up of Pakistani actors. Nandita Das, one of the few Indians in the film and perhaps the most well known actor, is good as the mother but Rashad Farooqi, the father, and Navaid Jabbar as the older version of Ramchand are arguably better. Furthermore the cinematography also shows moments of intense beauty in its depiction of the barren landscapes of the Sindh region and the gloriously colourful costumes and bazaars.

Although the film is a collaborative effort between India and Pakistan it does not resemble a Bollywood masala feature. In fact it mirrors the Parallel Cinema, also known as the Indian new wave, associated with the films of Satyajit Ray. One can only hope that this is the beginning of a Pakistani new-wave and I can’t think of a more capable director to be leading the cinematic revolution than Mehreen Jabbar.