Woo

So I passed my A-Levels, Edinburgh here I come ...

Desperate Romantics

Desperate Romantics is currently invading our screen and rightfully so. There is modernity to the series that you should not expect from a period drama. But this is where it differs from all other BBC Productions because it is not an adaptation of a novel or a remake of a classic. It has no plot to follow or indeed to live up to. Therefore it seems uncomfortable and fidgety in the period its set, trying all ploys and devises to distance itself from Victorian England and instead place itself as a frolicking hyperbolic interpretation of what the brotherhood were like.

The story follows three men with three very different personalities. Millais played by Samuel Barnett offers a charmingly naïve performance as the budding genius of the group who becomes crippled by a difficult love conundrum. This endearing quality clashes perfectly with the protagonist and original cocky cad, Rossetti. His magnetic presence is epitomised with his over sexed, devilishly handsome wily ways yet he still manages to wangle himself into our affections despite that fact he arrogantly and carelessly manipulates those around him (phwoar!) Next up is William Hunt affectionate (and sometimes accurately) nicknamed “Maniac” whose oppressed religious views are melted away by seductress Annie. There is no doubt that these characters in real life would have been dramatically different yet we are quite happy dump our logic at the door and indulge in an hour of good fun. It is also somewhat refreshing to see two fantastic female performances that really do justice to their somewhat restricted role. We watch as a whore and a hat maker become pivotal in the lives of the brotherhood and the juxtaposition of Lizzy's delicate modesty and Annie's extravagant debauchery is a riveting balance.

Although we may sometimes forget it, at the heart is a serious tale of art and its place at the time, but because any form of artistic pomposity is vanished we are not bogged down with its cultural superiority or significance. Instead we glimpse at the good stuff, the gossip, the drama, the fights and the heavy drinking. There is a harmless yet deeply morish quality to the series which is coupled with jovial soundtrack which helps us to skip gleefully through. There is no bombardment of pretentious semantics as we don’t need to be told directly about the ‘composition’ or the ‘light arrangements’ of the painting as that boring shit quickly becomes irrelevant. We are without noticing however, subtly introduced to the paintings, told about the paintings and then made to disregard the painting. We are instantly made into art connoisseurs and this new title is then quickly taken away as the romping frivolity is pushed once again to the fore.

Part of its greatness is it knows full well its own stupidity. There is definitely a tongue firmly placed on the cheek throughout the series. There is colour and vitality, bizarre costumes and endless innuendo, a classy Carry On if you like. But all in all it is a truly British interpretation of some of the finest minds.

H xx

Mesrine #1 ...

As a gangster film, Mesrine: The Killer Instinct has it all:

Guns – check
Action – check
Car chases – check
Tortured women - check
Handsome felon – check

But it also has so much more. I have to say I was slightly offended when I walked into the foyer and was asked by the ticket attendant “ah for Coco Before Channel are we?”. A presumption of my girly vanity and shallowness maybe reading too much into it but there was some serious backtracking that occurred next, underestimating my appreciation for men with guns. Is it odd to have such an obsession? Are these films limited only for men’s eyes? God no.

The significance and reputation of Mesrine embarrassingly has passed me by and with such notoriety in France it seems impossible to know why. It is the story of a bank robbing murderer who became a household name by manipulating the press and craving any attention possible. He met his demise with a chain of police bullets and it is the build up of this which is revealed in Jean-François Richet's superb film.

The man, the myth and the legend that is Jacques Mesrine is stunningly played by “Frenchman” himself Vincent Cassel. Cassel’s on screen presence is the epitome of captivating as my eyes rarely drifted from his continuously intense performance. An enigmatic quality that drives the film and it becomes hard to articulate just how spectaularly he plays Mesrine as it is clear there is no sympathy or adoration behind his portrayal, the 'heroics' of his actions are nowhere to be seen but instead are the clear and haunted workings of a thief. The balance of sexy charm and brutality is at the heart of this success. At the peak of his career it seems perfect that he adorn such a pivotal role. His portrayal of Mesrine is violent, destructive and deadly yet he manages to salvage some possibility of redeeming features. It may sit uneasy for us at times to side and support such violence but such a fluctuation of loyalty is vital to surge our interest in the film throughout its duration.

Tension starts and tension ends with no rest in between. From the first moment we are introduced to multiple split screens, a panoramic view of an older Mesrine, driving unknowingly to his death. The continuation of such momentum is an achievement in itself and is fuelled further by a story that you really couldn’t make up. A testament of this is the fact that I was made to jump out of my seat merely by the bark of a dog and a very clever music score. Although Mesrine himself was dubbed the man of a thousand faces, it is Cassel’s transformation which is most striking. His licentious swagger may not be a testament to authenticity, but adds a stylised edge to the film that should not be criticised. It glorifies violence, and so it should because all significant gangster films are supposed to and this then rightfully juxtaposed with his downfall which is also a vital aspect. It seemed that the era for films like Scarface and the Godfather we over and most certainly ‘of their time’ but Mesrine show a return to classical form, tradition but not regurgitation.

Masculinity in this film is unavoidable with the men drinking hard, smoking hard and playing hard. Violence is also not shied away from yet rather than just aimlessly presenting us with a severed arm or a gouged eye we are instantly told the root of Mesrine’s brutality and the reasons for such motives which are mainly due to his time served in Algeria with the army in with murder was a necessity not a choice. There is a presumed intelligence expected of the audience and in return we receive a level of sophistication that is deserving.

On his second spout in Canadian prison, a vulnerable raw Mesrine is revealed to us as we see him curled naked and placed under what can only be described as torturous conditions. This flux between the goody and baddy is something I fought with throughout the two hours and rightfully so as the decision of whether to admire someone so infamous should never be easy. In the back of my mind I knew the obligatory escape scene must be somewhere ahead and would be armed heavily with the normal clichés and spouts of righteous indignation. This is it; this would be the films downfall, the failure that I would have to accept. But I didn’t have to because before I knew it I was gripped and exasperated. As the camera flitted briefly from Cassel’s strong face to the police wardens tower I gulped and held breath, spurring on killers all in the name of freedom.

The womanising, the killing, the robbing all helped the time fly by and in the final words we were left with this: “As for Mesrine … End of Part One.” – And personally I can’t wait.


H xx

Howl

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked"

Excitiiiiiiiiiiing times. Next year sees the film release of Howl, the story of Allen Ginsberg and the obscenity trials which followed the release of Howl, his epic poem which contributed significantly the Beat movement in 1950's America. The devilishly handsome James Franco seems an unlikely choice to portray the balding, bespectacled writer yet it is clear from these early shots that the film is attempting an authenticity that without which would be a dramatic failure. His performance in Milk sealed his credibility with a sophisticated style that seems fitting for Ginsberg and will amount to his second gay role.

Howl is such a seminal piece of writing and it seems fittingly controversial to explore its meaning and its reception at a time which was not ready for such brutal honesty. With a cast consisting of Jeff Daniels, Mary-Louise Parker and Jon Hamm its potential continues yet this also adds to the pressure of the films validity, as if it is seen as a disappointment, the cruel opinions of many dedicated fans will be let loose.

It is the right time for us to be reminded about such genius and creativity. Ginsberg gave us a vivid glimpse into the reality of bohemian living and even 50 years on, its relevance has not wavered. With Gus Van Sant acting as executive producer and keeping an eye out on proceedings, the film looks set to do justice to such an American icon and a much loved influence.

ELLEN

... is a legend. As much as it pains me to say it, funny women, sadly are hard to come by yet Ellen does it with ease. Safe blud

Man on Wire

I had wanted to catch this when it came out, but for some pathetically procrastinated reason I opted out. So i thank BBC for the oppertunity to peer into the bizarre and enviable life of Phillippe Petit, possibly the worlds maddest man. It may be considered "crazy" to go chopping peoples heads off or smear blood on the walls but for me, high wire walking between the two twin towers is about as insane as it gets.

Documentary's are tricky buggars, go on too long and they bore us rigid as the facts begin to overule any idea of entertainment. Yet this hour and a half of epic recollection balances itself between unbelievable archive footage and photographs with cleverly subtle reconstructions and Petit himself occasionally seen jumping and squirming 30 years later, with a relief (it seems) to be finally getting his story told. His energy and obsession has not wavered, his passion has not faltered and his maddness has most certainly not dissolved. There is an urgecy with this film, driven mainly by Petit's hypnotic brilliance. There is an itch that is so rare in a documentary and its this that makes it such a beautiful work. Although you know that this unicycle riding, top hat wearing, french magician is a nutter you love him, you admire him, and eventually you envy him. Such a life driven by curiosty and ambition is captivating and when it is delivered by a man with such a twinkle in his eye, it becomes impossile not to succumb to his charm.

This is not merely a recollection, this is not merely a re-telling, this is a painting of the unimaginable. There is tension throughout it, the numerous descriptions of how the "gang" nearly got caught by guards left me literally with a hand over my mouth. I knew the outcome yet I stayed with it. However throughout it there was a nagging question that sadly, could not go away. Would they mention 9/11, was it right that they should? common decency? And they didnt. Rightfully so. This is a celebration of the towers, and a celebration of Petit. There was no need for a sombre reflection. The portryal of their greatness alone was enough to signify how tragic such an event was. In fact it was quite nice to hear them being talked about with such love, and not be overshadowed by "what happened"

Petit is special and "Man on Wire" portrays seemlessly how special he is. When we finally see him walk the wire he is playfull, with a smile that could melt any authoritarian. We are simply and rightfully left to try and comprehend such bravery (if it can even be called such a thing). It was his vocation, it could not be avoided, and for a man of twenty to have such drive is quite sickeningly breathaking. It becomes impossible to comprehend he could of died, impossible to comprehend he could have done anything other than succeed and the beauty and eaey that it is executed with will not doubt leave a stunning legacy.

H xx