tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221938282024-02-20T06:20:50.032+00:00Dariush AlaviA writer's blogBloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.comBlogger280125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-49092693376182310992019-10-06T19:33:00.000+01:002019-10-06T19:33:40.418+01:00This Blog Has Moved - Update Your Subscription Settings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This blog has now moved to <a href="https://dariushalavi.wordpress.com/">dariushalavi.wordpress.com</a>. Please update your subscription settings - and follow me over on WordPress - to ensure you're informed about any new posts.<br />
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-56058346356939598282019-09-27T09:55:00.002+01:002019-09-27T09:55:58.161+01:002019 Film Reviews - 45: Ad Astra [dir. James Gray; 2019]<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I'm not as allergic as some to the use of voiceovers in cinema. But I can find not one single reason to justify its presence in <i>Ad Astra</i>, apart from being a means to emphasise how patronising the movie is as a whole. Its opening premise is promising, if tenuous: an emotionally-detached astronaut is sent on a dangerous mission to contact his father, who may or not have lost his mind out in the furthest reaches of the solar system. But the subsequent treatment of the story is so heavy-handed, so self-important and so intent on the use of crude symbolism, it's hard not to read it as a portentous mess by the time it reaches its preposterous conclusion. <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">The visuals in a few sequences are worthy of praise - especially those set on the Moon - but this melange of </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Event Horizon</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> and </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Apocalypse Now</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> fails to reach the profundities suggested by its pace and tone. </span>One wonders if Gray reacted to the criticism of his superior <i>Lost City Of Z</i> by trying to make this effort less opaque. If so, he should have stuck to the instincts that guided the creation of his previous movie.<br />
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<i> Dariush</i></div>
Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-14842060454609029492019-09-26T13:42:00.001+01:002019-09-27T09:56:09.550+01:002019 Film Reviews - 44: Bait [dir. Mark Jenkin; 2019]<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It’s not often that a film genuinely manages to present a fresh and surprising visual style, but Mark Jenkin’s <i>Bait</i> pulls of the feat with understated self-assurance. What’s interesting is that it does so by turning to the past. Its story of a Cornish village affected by the decline of age-old industries - and the buying-up of properties by Airbnb-savvy Londoners - couldn’t be more 21st century. But its presentation feels as though it’s landed from a 1950s home movie time warp. It was shot in black and white 16 mm. Its sound is often out of sync with the action, to spookily jarring effect. The film stock was treated with a wide range of (at times unorthodox) substances, in order to create strange flares, flashes and grain effects. And its use of close-ups is so striking, I was taken straight back to Film Studies classes on Eisenstein and <i>Battleship Potemkin</i>. The handling of its themes may, at times, come across as simplistic: the Radio 4-consuming, Waitrose-shopping, middle class characters slip into caricatures on more than one occasion. But on balance, this is a compelling piece of work that holds the viewer in its grip and lingers in the mind long after the sound of a lonely fishing boat engine fades away.</div>
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<i> Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-15442882701179956332019-07-18T12:00:00.000+01:002019-07-18T12:00:05.525+01:002019 Film Reviews - 43: Happy End [dir. Michael Haneke; 2017]<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You know you’re in Haneke Land when a film starts with a young girl using some anti-depressants to kill her pet hamster... and then decides to find out what effect an overdose would have on her mother. From that point onwards, it’s bleakness all the way. But I have a lot of time for the director’s acidic vision of the world, because he invariably presents it with intelligence, restraint and a fierce honesty. <i>Happy End</i> is no exception, charting several months in the life of a well-to-do French family as they navigate the pointedly contemporary territory of social media, the refugee crisis, race relations, technological dependency and global business machinations. Characters fail to connect with each other. Egos and ambitions pour icy water over any hope of warm interaction. Truths lie concealed beneath interiors cleaned oh so dutifully by the hired help. One after another, the superbly-observed scenes and set-pieces build up a potent emotional charge - an exchange between Jean-Louis Trintignant and a group of bemused black men is a particular standout - creating a picture of modern life that is as memorable as it is sometimes uncomfortable to watch. Yes, watching a Haneke film often feels like being at the receiving end of a very angry, wagging finger. But when delivered by him, a telling off can be an edifying experience.<br />
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-24672579922695768702019-07-17T17:00:00.000+01:002019-07-17T17:00:07.291+01:002019 Film Reviews - 42: Late Spring [dir. Yasujirô Ozu; 1949]<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You watch a film like <i>Late Spring</i> - Ozu’s characteristically quiet, unforced account of the pressure placed on a young woman to get married and leave her stable existence with her father - and you’re struck by how distant the world it portrays appears to be. And then you realise that 1949 was seventy years ago! Plenty of time for social mores and attitudes to go through a complete transformation. Sacrifice, duty and selflessness often seem like dated concepts now - in an environment which places so much value on the ‘rights’ of the individual - which is why their presence as the driving forces of <i>Late Spring</i> make seeing the movie a particularly fascinating experience. It may not be as affecting as the director’s better known <i>Tokyo Story</i>, but in its own unassuming way, it hits home with wise observations, difficult truths and unsentimental poignancy.<br />
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-26290863552168855902019-07-15T07:00:00.000+01:002019-07-16T09:50:18.499+01:002019 Film Reviews - 41: Apollo 11 [dir. Todd Douglas Miller; 2019] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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What’s most extraordinary about Miller’s Apollo 11 documentary is that even though you know the beginning, middle and end of the story before you watch the film, even though Nasa’s moon-landing mission was relatively unproblematic and even though the proceedings aren’t character led, you are rooted to your seat and glued to your screen from the moment the movie begins. One event follows another in predictable fashion - using cleaned-up footage from the time, with no voice-overs or interviews - but not for one moment are you inclined to look away. This could be a testament to the power of purely image-driven narrative: all those meaning-heavy shots of worried faces peering into screens, unfamiliar landscapes looming into view, counters ticking by on the screen indicating velocities increasing, distances growing, fuel depleting. Or it could partly be the magic of Matt Morton’s hypnotic, synthesizer-heavy score. But whatever the reason, I dare say the flight to the moon and back has never been presented in a manner that is quite as dramatic as this and that truly conveys the scale of the collaborative achievement it represented. Gripping stuff. </div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-70619138851061288782019-07-14T10:36:00.002+01:002019-07-14T10:36:59.919+01:002019 Film Reviews - 40: The Age Of Innocence [dir. Martin Scorsese; 1993] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When you’ve watched a movie several times, you enter into a wonderful sort of relationship with it: its main beats and incidents become so familiar to you that you can almost push them into the background and focus on aspects you may not have considered before. In my most recent viewing of <a href="https://dariushalavi.blogspot.com/search/label/Martin%20Scorsese" target="_blank">Martin Scorsese</a>’s masterful adaptation of <a href="https://dariushalavi.blogspot.com/search/label/Edith%20Wharton" target="_blank">Edith Wharton</a>’s <i>The Age Of Innocence</i>, I was struck by the silences. Much has been written - and rightly so - about the oppressively lush interiors, the body-limiting costumes, Elmer Bernstein’s layered score. They all play their part in the tale of Newland Archer - a wealthy, late-nineteenth century New York socialite (played by a never-better Daniel Day-Lewis) whose stable existence is shaken up by the arrival of the scandalous Madame Olenska from Europe (in the guise of a luminous Michelle Pfeiffer). But Scorsese always knows when to tone things down. And it’s the quiet moments that give this movie much of its power. Meaningful half-glances. Words swallowed up before they’re uttered. Pauses lingering in drawing rooms, a little too long for comfort. They’re just as insidious and corrosive as the more obvious snares the characters use to manipulate and entrap each other. So yes, to be sure, the film remains a dazzling spectacle, twenty-six years after its release. But it’s also a compelling study in the devastating impact that can be achieved by saying nothing at all.</div>
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For my olfactory take on the movie, <a href="https://persolaise.com/2017/11/cinema-scent-on-bbc-radio-4-film-30.html" target="_blank">please click here</a>.</div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-54338674823362800912019-07-04T20:00:00.000+01:002019-07-04T20:00:09.716+01:002019 Film Reviews - 39: Inquiring Nuns [dir. Gordon Quinn & Jerry Temaner; 1968] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In late 1960s Chicago, directors Gordon Quinn and Jerry Temaner decided it might be interesting to give two young nuns a microphone and tell them to ask passersby outside a church a very simple question: “Are you happy?” The result is this documentary, which has just been reissued and is available in the UK through Curzon’s On Demand service. Fascinating on several levels, it offers an insight into what seems an age irretrievably beyond our reach, when all the people walking along the pavement appear to be insightful and articulate (although this may be down to the editing, of course) and very few admit to any level of discontent (washing one’s dirty linen in public wasn’t the done thing, so who knows how honest these blissed-out characters were being with their responses — but then that’s part of what makes the film intriguing). It’s also both moving and depressing to hear the Vietnam War cited several times as a cause of people’s worries. Not everything stays the same. So often, the things you wish would change, don’t.</div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-77067433450622421992019-07-03T20:00:00.000+01:002019-07-03T20:00:04.395+01:002019 Film Reviews - 38: Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse [dir. Bob Persichetti & Peter Ramsey; 2018] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This alternative take on the Spider-man franchise - in which several Spider-heroes from parallel universes are brought together to battle the Kingpin - certainly offers a feast for the eyes. The Lichtenstein-inspired drawings - confidently using bold lines and textured dots - pop with life and vitality, propelling the action from one frame to another (sometimes literally: the film makes frequent use of comic-book-style frames and layouts). The plot is little more than a bit of inspired silliness and the influence of <i>The Lego Movie</i>’s Phil Lord and Chris Miller isn’t as subversive as it might have been - I’d presumed the downright bizarre Peter Porker character was their invention, only to be informed that he’d already appeared in a few comics - but as far as movies in this genre go, Spider-verse was unpretentious, pleasantly diverting and harmlessly forgettable.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-78597189854310837352019-06-25T06:41:00.002+01:002019-06-25T06:41:38.504+01:002019 Film Reviews - 37: Diego Maradona [dir. Asif Kapadia; 2019] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://dariushalavi.blogspot.com/search/label/Asif%20Kapadia" target="_blank">Asif Kapadia</a> has a facility for showcasing and explaining the skills of talented individuals even to people who aren’t particularly interested in the individuals’ field of expertise, whether it’s <a href="http://dariushalavi.blogspot.com/2011/07/film-review-senna-dir-asif-kapadia-2010.html" target="_blank">Ayrton Senna’s Formula One</a> racing or Amy Winehouse’s trademark modern soul singing. He displays it to full effect again in <i>Diego Maradona</i>, a documentary which makes it clear even to non-football-fans, such as myself, precisely why the Argentinian player became a revered demi-god. The footage of the angst-ridden bundle of complexities controlling the ball on the pitch is simply breath-taking to behold, and adds an unexpected note of pathos to the account of his downfall. The man’s post-prison years are dealt with far too perfunctorily - did Kapadia suddenly realise he was facing the prospect of making a three-hour movie and decided to cut it short? - but what we do have is a compelling tale of how quickly fortunes can turn and how easily corruption becomes all-pervasive. Compelling stuff.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-6378718672274110062019-06-23T09:06:00.000+01:002019-06-25T06:42:11.429+01:00Music review: Madame X by Madonna (2019)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpcTEhYuTc47SMt2Lrh9JUibAVlgl3rq-q-2ibK7DaBWfUUbWC6VzU-Ghupnt2B2fZTgGMgtvVjRuUgwlphe0bHHkHT1QKeZqeB802Iwu2NOXg8QnOdVQynzt_6QVwXeW8RvwCA/s1600/DariushAlavi_MadonnaMadameX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="437" data-original-width="500" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpcTEhYuTc47SMt2Lrh9JUibAVlgl3rq-q-2ibK7DaBWfUUbWC6VzU-Ghupnt2B2fZTgGMgtvVjRuUgwlphe0bHHkHT1QKeZqeB802Iwu2NOXg8QnOdVQynzt_6QVwXeW8RvwCA/s400/DariushAlavi_MadonnaMadameX.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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There are several possible points of entry into the territory of <a href="http://dariushalavi.blogspot.com/search/label/Madonna" target="_blank">Madonna</a>’s <i>Madame X</i>. You could try the portentous, genre-shifting portal that is <i>God Control</i>. You could decide to delve in via the hip-swaying nostalgia of <i>Medellin</i>. Or you could go for the smoke-filled, strobe-lit, 90s club gateway signposted by <i>I Don’t Search, I Find</i>. What makes the album interesting - and arguably the most cohesive piece of work Ms Ciccone has released for some time - is that most of the potential pathways lead to the same destination.</div>
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Whether she’s grappling with a chacha, mangling her words through a vocoder or chanting over a tabla, <i>Madame X</i> is anxious for us to understand that she’s worried. Yes, she’s concerned about the state of the world: that much is obvious and clear almost straight away. But her fears run deeper. What she’s really frightened about is our attitude towards the state of the world. There’s much on this album about hypocrisy, about intending to do the right thing, but failing, because the prosaic realities of life get in the way (“When we wake up, what can we do? Get the kids ready, take them to school”) or because maintaining a sense of broad-minded liberalism seems to be such a thankless task (“All our lives we work in vain for a little touch of grace”).</div>
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<i>Madame X</i> is patently the product of a 1970s mindset trying to grapple with the perplexing cruelties of the early 21st century. She’s gone from believing - knowing! - that with effort and compassion you really can change the world, to having to confront the fact that self-serving motivations ultimately win the day (“It’s a beautiful life, but I’m not concerned”). She knows that she ought to empathise with those around her (“I’ll be the poor when the poor are humiliated”) but she is also self-aware enough to realise that it’s difficult to follow noble ambitions with actions (“I know what I am and I know what I’m not”). In short, she’s a paradoxical creature, as slippery and self-delusional as the environment she’s observing.</div>
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That’s all well and good, and it certainly provides more meat for us to sink our critical teeth into than <i>Rebel Heart</i> or <i>MDNA</i> ever offered. But thematic rumination aside, it cannot be avoided that <i>Madame X</i>’s musicality is something of a problem. The songs are so desperate to be taken seriously, they run the risk of losing a vital sense of melodiousness, of collapsing beneath the weight of their conceptual artfulness, of alienating the very audience they’re trying to engage. Precisely where Madonna’s fans lie on this issue is a matter of personal taste: certainly, several people have proclaimed they’re fed up with this heavily auto-tuned incarnation of Madge and don’t wish to spend much time with her.</div>
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Personally, I’m inclined to be more welcoming. The <i>Madame X</i> ‘multiple persona’ schtick was always going to be something of a red herring, and it’s actually far more effective - in the context of the songs - as a statement about the social-media-filtered personalities the modern world insists that we adopt, only to watch - gleefully - as we falter beneath the impossibility of the task. The heavily over-processed sound of the music - with Madonna’s voice twisted, muted and squeezed beyond recognition in some instances - is an apt reflection of this idea: the songs switch gears and change identities with such rapidity, you can feel their maker’s frustration at not knowing quite who she and we are supposed to be any more. As a musical display, it’s both dazzling and infuriating.</div>
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Madonna has always had an ear for that most crucial of pop devices: the lyric that somehow manages to be both banal and pregnant with meaning. On <i>Madame X</i>, this skill is evident in what may well be its most stripped-back form yet, to the extent that some of the songs’ words couldn’t seem balder and plainer. But perhaps they do conceal greater depths. “I guess I’m lost, I had to pay the cost, The thing that hurt me most was that I wasn’t lost,” may not initially seem to sparkle with wit, but its simplicity does encapsulate the very sorts of spiritual paradoxes in which Madonna has proclaimed an open interest for several years. Indeed, it’s in some of the most simple-seeming lyrics that she allows herself to make her most open comments on theology and religion, a topic usually conspicuous by its absence in albums by global superstars, none of whom would probably dare sing the words, “I’ll be Islam if Islam is hated.”</div>
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Madonna’s last all-out use of such pointedly understated irony was on the 2003 <i>American Life</i> album, which was not embraced when it appeared, and is still considered by many to be her worst work ever, but now seems prescient in many ways. At the moment, we have no idea if people will still be listening to <i>Madame X</i> in sixteen years’ time. But there is such an insistent, bludgeoning force to the fervour with which it hammers home its key ideas (reinforced by the almost endless, propaganda-style repetition of key slogans: “Wake up, wake up, wake up ... Looking for, looking for, looking for ... I rise, I rise, I rise”) that it may well succeed in getting under the skin of those who allow it sufficient time to cast its spell.</div>
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I’d be lying by omission if I didn’t say a part of me wishes that, having got X out of her system, Madonna would now get together with the current equivalents of Patrick Leonard and Stuart Price (or why not just hook up with Pat and Stu themselves?) and bash out, in a quick, spontaneous way, an album of the kind of stuff the naysayers seem to want. Just to shut them up. But I know that’s never going to happen: I think she’s simply not interested in heading back into those sorts of styles any more. And her furiously forward-looking attitude has always been one of her most admirable qualities. So I’ll just stick Come Alive on a loop (a glorious, church-organ-backed, African-beat-fuelled affirmation of a thirst for life) and enjoy the many pleasures her latest output has to offer… while hoping we don’t have to wait too long for whatever she plans to do next. </div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-79146603103882449772019-06-11T19:54:00.002+01:002019-06-11T19:54:09.053+01:002019 Film Reviews - 36: X-Men: Dark Phoenix [dir. Simon Kinberg; 2019] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm3elUnwPQnbVHXBaBEwMBQSLYdXBhF3tU_TChJRrvS1PWF90FnlL4d0A4n496Qaav_tVznCRmu9M5SIAe-WGyo4Kuc0d3IpM4TgSlYiWo5Bj-vQl996bWNRwxUTXiCH5c4iV-Q/s1600/DariushAlavi_DarkPhoenix_June19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1427" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm3elUnwPQnbVHXBaBEwMBQSLYdXBhF3tU_TChJRrvS1PWF90FnlL4d0A4n496Qaav_tVznCRmu9M5SIAe-WGyo4Kuc0d3IpM4TgSlYiWo5Bj-vQl996bWNRwxUTXiCH5c4iV-Q/s400/DariushAlavi_DarkPhoenix_June19.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
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I confess I don’t understand why the critical establishment hasn’t displayed the same warmth towards the <i><a href="http://dariushalavi.blogspot.com/search/label/X-Men" target="_blank">X-Men</a></i> franchise as they’ve lavished upon the <i><a href="http://dariushalavi.blogspot.com/search/label/Avengers" target="_blank">Avengers</a></i>. Both ‘worlds’ rely on predictable tropes, they present stories that are required to hit certain beats and they’re populated by characters whose development wouldn’t exactly cause Ibsen to raise his eyebrows in admiration. The only reason I can think of for this disparity is that Iron Man, Captain America, Thor et al occupy settings that are brighter, more colourful and more psychologically robust, whereas Professor X and his students navigate much darker, more angst-ridden territories. Consequently, I’ve enjoyed spending more time with the latter than the former, and <i>Dark Phoenix</i> is no exception, despite what other reviewers have said. Yes, its focus on Jean Grey’s destructive transformation into the Phoenix - following a dangerous, space-set mission - was the subject of an earlier X flick, but seeing the tale re-told in a different way is hardly a problem. And sure, this movie is no masterpiece (the dialogue is particularly atrocious: I almost burst out laughing when a cry of “Your emotions make you weak,” was followed by “No, you’re wrong. My emotions make me strong.”) but it’s solidly enjoyable and its core carries greater emotional heft than most other offerings in this genre. I, for one, am sorry to see these characters come to the end of their current incarnations and I’m not hopeful that they’ll remain as interesting as they have been when they re-emerge within the Disney stable.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-17482406272247722922019-06-08T11:00:00.000+01:002019-06-08T11:00:04.568+01:002019 Film Reviews - 35: Rocketman [dir. Dexter Fletcher; 2019] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvg0Avupwxh1ChXizyTxnTWWSQTmu4HoisF2mbJxdNZgvTRGFw3Ypp4Y7ldHPIV4RAsc0gq9ndwIPlqZH1LvlfmwOYvW0QR4Vcz41tr_P0gfYUa_lPgubIk0yLW8sSXGSoiNgGmQ/s1600/DariushAlavi_Rocketman_June19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvg0Avupwxh1ChXizyTxnTWWSQTmu4HoisF2mbJxdNZgvTRGFw3Ypp4Y7ldHPIV4RAsc0gq9ndwIPlqZH1LvlfmwOYvW0QR4Vcz41tr_P0gfYUa_lPgubIk0yLW8sSXGSoiNgGmQ/s400/DariushAlavi_Rocketman_June19.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
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It isn’t anywhere near as gritty as its marketeers would have us believe, but <i>Rocketman</i> certainly offers a wider range of tones and moods than the sanitised <i>Bohemian Rhapsody</i>. Examining Elton John’s growing fame and eventual decision to take his many problems to a rehab clinic, the film adopts what is at times surreal imagery, an energetic pace and several jukebox-musical sequences (yes, with characters bursting into song) to present a tale that is just about as likeable as it is predictable. Most of the supporting players are little more than cardboard types, but Taron Egerton is a compelling, nuanced presence in the lead role, convincingly working his way through many of John’s most popular hits. That said, it’s a shame the makers couldn’t find more time to shine a light on the other genius in this story: Bernie Taupin. But I guess you don’t get top billing in the history books if you don’t have a penchant for scene-stealing parrot costumes.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-24077621975222508012019-06-07T11:00:00.000+01:002019-06-07T11:00:00.948+01:002019 Film Reviews - 34: Elles [dir. Malgorzata Szumowska; 2011] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Although it doesn’t exactly make new observations about relations between the sexes, it cannot be denied that Szumowska’s <i>Elles</i> offers a succinct summary of themes that are always worthy of reappraisal: cycles of exploitation between men and women; gender-based hypocrisy in the sphere of work; sex as a form power. My objection is with the way in which the director has chosen to explore these ideas. Her framing device - a journalist writing an article about students supporting themselves by turning to prostitution - is fine in itself. But because she opts to cram her lead character’s crisis-bound development into little more than one day, Szumowska stretches credibility and causes her many flashbacks to come across as contrived and pretentious. The director adopted a similarly ‘elevated’ tone in <i>Body/Ciało</i>, with equally unconvincing results. Perhaps she ought to trust in the power of her stories and present them in as straight a way as possible, without resorting to needless narrative quirks, not to mention questionable, explicit imagery.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-70153427818562515482019-06-06T09:16:00.000+01:002019-06-06T12:39:10.149+01:002019 Film Reviews - 33: Tell No One / Tylko Nie Mów Nikomu [dir. Tomasz Sekielski; 2019] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I struggle to understand why the makers of this film - and of several other modern documentaries - felt the need to dress up what is indisputably a serious, upsetting, far-reaching subject with melodramatic music, portentous drone shots and ‘edgy’ camera placements best left to hokey police procedurals. But that aside, this expose of the Polish church’s attempts to cover up the abuse of children by many of its priests is as powerful as it is brave, presenting several harrowing sequences in which victims not only share painful details about their experiences but also - under covert recordings - confront the perpetrators. The religious establishments of many countries are long overdue what we could sardonically call a spring clean (I wonder if the Philippines will be the next place to start haemorrhaging similar revelations) and it is films like this that will help separate the faith from those who pervert it. Not for the faint-hearted.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Note: <i>Tell No One</i> is a YouTube release, available to watch now, with subtitles in several languages. </div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-20974138352479013582019-05-30T09:00:00.000+01:002019-05-30T09:00:00.971+01:002019 Film Reviews - 32: Amazing Grace [dir. Alan Elliott & Sydney Pollack; 2018] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Aside from the impassioned music and Aretha Franklin’s unquestionably powerful vocal skills (although personally, I can take R&B warbling only in small doses) what’s most remarkable about this footage of the recording of the much-lauded, 1972 <i>Amazing Grace</i> album is the casualness of the whole set up. Franklin herself wanders on with little fanfare. The audience move around the auditorium, dancing, clapping and singing as they please. Mick Jagger pops up at one point, joining the crowd with no apparent need for security or bodyguards. It’s hard not to think that such informality would be utterly impossible today. I’m not suggesting for one minute that I’d like social norms to go back to the 1970s - a time when, somewhat ironically, the position of women and black people in America was even more difficult than it is now - but watching <i>Amazing Grace</i> does call to mind the old adage that for everything that’s gained, something is probably lost. An intriguing insight into a bygone age.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-43968908480272449332019-05-29T10:00:00.000+01:002019-05-29T10:00:06.490+01:002019 Film Reviews - 31: High Life [dir. Claire Denis; 2018] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There’s a great deal I could write about Claire Denis’ first English-language film, but the one-para rule must be obeyed, so suffice it to say that <i>High Life</i> effortlessly earns a place in the canon of thoughtful, elliptical sci-fi movies such as <i>2001</i>, <i>Solaris</i> and <i>Blade-Runner</i>. Aside from some almost laughably clunky exposition at the start, this dreamy, fecund presentation of life on a spaceship populated by hardened convicts hits all the right notes of skin-crawling horror and symbol-heavy allegory. Not so much sci-if as it is an elemental fairy tale that happens to be set amongst the stars, it pushes buttons and poses questions in almost every frame, presenting more than its fair share of striking - maybe even unprecedented - images in an attempt to get to grips with fundamental questions about what sustains relationships and life itself. Gripping, unforgettable stuff, with a nuanced central performance by Robert Pattinson and a mesmerising turn from <a href="http://dariushalavi.blogspot.com/search/label/Juliette%20Binoche" target="_blank">Juliette Binoche</a> as a sort of cosmic high priestess of sensuality.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-58222918019142049212019-05-28T15:03:00.000+01:002019-05-28T15:03:35.841+01:002019 Film Reviews - 30: Unhung Hero [dir. Brian Spitz; 2013] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In 2013, after struggling comedian Patrick Moote had his very public marriage proposal turned down on the basis that his girlfriend found his penis too small (yes, really) he decided to draw inspiration from the situation and embark on a study of phallic proportions. The result is this documentary, which sees him interacting with porn stars, self-help gurus and some seriously dodgy customers in an attempt to address an issue with which he becomes increasingly obsessed and fixated. The final conclusions he draws from his experience are predictable - and at times there’s an unshakeable feeling that some of what we see on screen has been rather conveniently staged - but the seeming innocence and naïveté with which Moote responds to his intriguing encounters makes the whole much more watchable than it probably has any right to be. And with a running time of 84 minutes, it definitely can’t attract any complaints about being too long. (Sorry.)</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-66862014503988863622019-05-14T07:00:00.000+01:002019-05-14T07:00:05.607+01:002019 Film Reviews - 29: Vertigo [dir. Alfred Hitchcock; 1958] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivC2PJ_5NIb2fj54DzHF-NfiAK9NtiYDE_pSnAQknAS5zqYqR1zGpW5Hijf1KdAY93G7wPETCfck09_utZ_cA0dmGzGSvwyWZHjWLfJUc65LGzLidjYmJotoAZd5QodtaL4IWl1A/s1600/DariushAlavi_Vertigo_May19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivC2PJ_5NIb2fj54DzHF-NfiAK9NtiYDE_pSnAQknAS5zqYqR1zGpW5Hijf1KdAY93G7wPETCfck09_utZ_cA0dmGzGSvwyWZHjWLfJUc65LGzLidjYmJotoAZd5QodtaL4IWl1A/s400/DariushAlavi_Vertigo_May19.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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There really isn’t anything one can say about <i>Vertigo</i> that hasn’t already been said, but watching it again with someone who’d never seen it before, I was particularly struck by the cruelty of the James Stewart character towards the end of the story, as he ‘rediscovers’ Kim Novak and tries to force her into the image of the woman he’s lost. As far as presentations of a person’s psyche go, this must be amongst the most unforgiving, as bleak and bitter as the surrounding visuals are lush and textured. It’s the unsettling juxtaposition of these elements - together with all the other perplexing contrasts present in the story - that throws up something new with each viewing, drawing you further into that zooming abyss and securing the film’s status as one of the most intriguing, unfathomable works of all time.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-14205224341305991772019-05-13T06:00:00.000+01:002019-05-13T06:00:08.150+01:002019 Film Reviews - 28: Western [dir. Valeska Grisebach; 2017] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4EWwYkPxxI_G6cHVuaQ5qT8dLhNxKXmhQ87KkxKYNkB-i-LK0DR6N24QeiY3NN5jHQsplcMm_F6yL1yuueRxjcc0HkLwl8QYUmZrTAqsxDyX_TqMvBCeSRfD_jBsKT3snxOcb2A/s1600/DariushAlavi_Western_May19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="518" data-original-width="768" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4EWwYkPxxI_G6cHVuaQ5qT8dLhNxKXmhQ87KkxKYNkB-i-LK0DR6N24QeiY3NN5jHQsplcMm_F6yL1yuueRxjcc0HkLwl8QYUmZrTAqsxDyX_TqMvBCeSRfD_jBsKT3snxOcb2A/s400/DariushAlavi_Western_May19.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This quiet, unassuming tale of a manual labourer from Germany feeling increasingly at home while working in a sleepy Bulgarian village comes with much critical acclaim, chiefly for its examination of masculinity and conflict. And while there’s no doubt that it features many admirable accomplishments - not least Meinhard Neumann's understated central performance and the well-observed presentation of his graduation alienation from his compatriots - there is also a sense that this is arthouse-by-numbers. From long takes to determinedly non-professional acting, the stock tropes are all in evidence, sadly without any idiosyncratic quirks or surprises that might have lifted the whole and served to male it more memorable.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-49658087202956929702019-05-12T11:10:00.000+01:002019-05-12T11:10:16.599+01:002019 Film Reviews - 27: Mission: Impossible - Fallout [dir. Christopher McQuarrie; 2018] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnOQrsQC7qTJ8NyCLXjeez3SiVEnQogB4jiAcBmmv__SGfOjnGRrSp4nSqgA4ntTmilhh2HN_6F90o2C6Ynetba73GgdlfFUJnPOjX-EG7kZbGoFT6QioPLQqAdnQKlKIGKqF0A/s1600/DariushAlavi_MissionImpossibleFallout_May19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1019" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnOQrsQC7qTJ8NyCLXjeez3SiVEnQogB4jiAcBmmv__SGfOjnGRrSp4nSqgA4ntTmilhh2HN_6F90o2C6Ynetba73GgdlfFUJnPOjX-EG7kZbGoFT6QioPLQqAdnQKlKIGKqF0A/s400/DariushAlavi_MissionImpossibleFallout_May19.jpg" width="271" /></a></div>
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Having missed several entries in the series, I can’t make an educated assessment of how <i>Fallout</i> rates in the <i>Mission: Impossible</i> canon. But I do know that it doesn’t come close to eliciting the devilish, lip-smacking enjoyment I felt when watching Brian De Palma’s version from 1996. Yes, the plot centres on all the usual globe-trotting shenanigans and there are a few absorbing, budget-bloating set pieces (the helicopter sequence towards the end works well) but this is forgettable fare, perhaps notable only for the infamous sequence of Tom Cruise genuinely hurting himself while running across the London skyline. Dare I say it: he should have stuck to being suspended from ceilings.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-56399319309827103302019-04-29T18:54:00.000+01:002019-04-29T20:02:08.729+01:002019 Film Reviews - 26: Avengers: Endgame [dir. Anthony Russo & Joe Russo; 2019] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Although I’m someone who loves the idea of superhero movies in principle - mainly for the fantastical, imagination-expanding potential they offer - I know full well that a product as overhyped, over-marketed and overblown as <i>Avengers: Endgame</i> is ripe for being reduced to a ridiculous pulp. But that attitude would ignore the film’s achievements, of which there are more than one might have expected. So in the spirit of accentuating the positives - and because no amount of poo-pooing is going to stop anyone from seeing this behemoth - here are what I consider to be some of the highlights of this 3-hour long account of our heroes’ response to arch-villain Thanos’ killing of literally half of all life on Earth: the writers’ dexterous juggling of complex (and probably hole-filled, but does anyone care?) plotlines; the brave decision not to cram proceedings with every single available character just for the sake of giving them something to do; the geek-tastic re-writing of the received wisdom around the rules of time-travel stories; Karen Gillan’s nuanced performance as Nebula; the surprisingly slow-burn of the pace at the start; most of the special effects (I still find it difficult to suspend all disbelief when it comes to wholly CG characters); the realisation that Chris Evans should one day play the lead role in a Ronald Reagan biopic; and the best shirtless Thor scene yet. Personally, I still prefer delving into the angsty, melodramatic world of the X-Men characters, but I cannot deny that <i>Endgame</i>’s scale, bravura and relentlessness - not to mention its savvy blend of the aesthetics of <i>Star Wars</i> and <i>Lord Of The Rings</i> - will doubtless make it one of the most successful films of all time.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-16292125770869284822019-04-28T21:45:00.000+01:002019-04-28T21:45:16.084+01:002019 Film Reviews - 25: 3 Faces [dir. Jafar Panahi; 2018] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmh80NcZCG908W-k8i7m7V3kT5C9WsaWXVZ7BPUuqVEZeIf3bE0sRExrcJP3VmdyIjNLAYSFdtSd-U3BxGVy0jWT04plmfaqhwGT2K70FbZBkcDDjBd0ifPv12JL669zvFLyt8g/s1600/DariushAlavi_3Faces_Apr19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmh80NcZCG908W-k8i7m7V3kT5C9WsaWXVZ7BPUuqVEZeIf3bE0sRExrcJP3VmdyIjNLAYSFdtSd-U3BxGVy0jWT04plmfaqhwGT2K70FbZBkcDDjBd0ifPv12JL669zvFLyt8g/s400/DariushAlavi_3Faces_Apr19.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
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I’m not sure how a director banned from making films succeeds in creating not one, but several pieces of work since the restriction was imposed upon him, but there we are — Jafar Panahi is back with another characteristically elliptical effort. This time he tels the tale of an actress and a director who feel compelled to travel to a remote village in their native Iran because they’ve received what looks like a suicide video from a young girl who claims she can no longer live in her creativity-stifling surroundings. Cue: a series of set-pieces - a few perhaps too quirky for good measure - in which the city dwellers interact with the rural folk and, in the process, offer ironic observations on urban privilege, the role of art in society, and, inevitably, the position of women. Naturalistically performed, unforced in its pace and full of the familiar Panahi camera placements and movements that make you crane your neck to see more (and, slyly, draw you into the environment), it’s a deceptively simple piece of work that lingers in the mind long after its mournful final shot. Well worth seeking out.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-78789354283366759282019-04-24T20:41:00.001+01:002019-04-24T20:41:37.866+01:002019 Film Reviews - 24: Captain Marvel [dir. Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck; 2019] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As the world of <a href="http://dariushalavi.blogspot.com/search/label/Marvel%20Comics" target="_blank">Marvel Comics</a> movies becomes increasingly all-devouring and the recent films sometimes feel like little more than a game of ‘Spot The Latest Celeb Trying To Bulk Up Their Pension Fund’ (in this case: Jude Law and Annette Bening), it’s difficult not to see <i>Captain Marvel</i> as a mere interlude before the ‘season finale’ that is <i>Avengers: Endgame</i>. As such, it’s an amusing time-filler, focussing on the 90s-set story of how Carol Danvers became yet another Most Powerful Being In The Universe Ever. But even though Brie Larson tries to project a certain level of sardonic, cool-kid, single-eyebrow-raising unflappability in the lead role, it’s disappointing that the directing duo of Boden and Fleck didn’t infuse the film with the indie bite they displayed in <i>Half Nelson</i>. There’s also the dubious issue of a superhero deliberately donning the colours of the US Air Force while fighting a battle that probably wouldn’t be looked upon favourably by America’s foreign policy makers. But that’s probably far too profound a quibble for the execs who have no intention of letting this cash cow retreat to that great pasture in the sky any time soon.</div>
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<i>Dariush</i></div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22193828.post-73705509764136507572019-04-18T09:32:00.001+01:002019-04-18T09:32:44.764+01:002019 Film Reviews - 23: Shoplifters [dir. Hirokazu Koreeda; 2018] <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It’s interesting to consider whether Japanese social-realist cinema is currently at the same stage as the kitchen sink dramas of 1960s Britain. As he did in <i>Nobody Knows</i>, director Hirokazu Koreeda certainly displays a commendable willingness to take the veil off the refined exterior of modern Japanese life with this tale of a poverty-stricken band of thieves who one day adopt a neglected child. But in the same way that some English movies from 50-odd years ago can come across as overly stylised or naïve - perhaps even twee - there’s a curious lack of real grit in <i>Shoplifters</i>, a determination to portray its characters and their lives with several punches pulled well back. Even the performances, watchable though they may be, display a self-conscious theatricality that seems designed to reassure audiences that, ultimately, all this is make-believe. Perhaps that’s what Japanese cinema-goers currently need in order to be able to access such dramas. If that’s the case, then hats off to Koreeda for finding a way to broach what are apparently still shocking subjects in his home country. But personally, I'd like to see what sort of work he’ll be making in 10 years’ time, when he might feel able to take an even braver line with his stories.</div>
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Bloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806816026305227292noreply@blogger.com0