My Top Ten o' 2007*

*Irish release dates only. That excludes No Country For Old Men, There Will Be Blood, Sweeney Todd and other critical darlings.

This list was not hard to compile at first, but then I took a second look at it and began switching titles, taking off names completely and scratching my head with puzzlement. Funnily enough, the top five are the locks; I was blown away by each of those films and the top place has been firmly there ever since I first saw it back in the summer. These films aren't necessarily the best of the year; to qualify, I had to be engaged both emotionally and intellectually, and also be able to appreciate the craft of the film. What follows is a mixed bag; political thrillers, children's films, adult dramas and a musical. Not all will appeal to everyone, but I can assure that each will provoke discussion, thoughts and opinions.

10. Michael Clayton

09. Ratatouille

08. A Mighty Heart

07. Away From Her

06. Hairspray

05. Breach

04. Zodiac

03. INLAND EMPIRE

02. I’m Not There

01. Jindabyne

Each of these films shocked me, thrilled me, made me laugh or left me with tears in my eyes. Not all accomplished all four criteria, but some definitely did. Glancing over my list, I cried at six of the titles, squirmed in fear at four and in every case left the cinema (or living room, in the case of the two I watched on dvd) feeling like I was walking on air.

Watching Taxi Driver; Magnified.

I've finally seen Martin Scorcese's Taxi Driver on the big screen. It was a markedly different experience from any other previous time I've watch it; the very first time I viewed Taxi Driver was at 3am during a Christmas break, hunched over the tiny television in my bedroom. The sound was turned down low so my parents wouldn't hear and I had to strain to catch all the dialogue. Despite these setbacks, the film still affected me and I couldn't sleep afterwards. This afternoon I went to see a screening of it in the Irish Film Institute. Watching it on a full-sized cinema screen, with Bernard Herrman's exquisite score surrounding me, every grainy night-scene blown up to gigantic proportions, is undoubtedly one of my best film experiences yet.
I can't help being envious of people who were going to the cinema in 1976, when Taxi Driver was originally released. It isn't until you see it in the cinema that you fully appreciate the force of it, the seediness, the beauty. It's a powerful piece of work; what must it have been like to go to the cinema on a Friday night in the 70s, coming to this film with no preconceptions? No idea if it would be any good, no anticipating of the "You talkin' to me?", no prior knowledge of what you were about to see? The violence and racism that sidle around the screen are even mre disquieting, the dreamlike quality magnified, the score is like a drug, drawing you in with the mixture of beauty and seediness that is the main dichotomy expressed in the film.

As I sat there in the screening room, an elderly couple to my left and a young guy in his 20s who kept taking his glasses on and off to my right, I felt a shiver of excitement ripple through the whole audience as the lights dimmed and the Columbia logo flickered onto the screen. There were no ads, no trailers and none of those rating's cards. The film simply started to play; one click and we had started, a giant puff of yellowing smoke from which emerges the taxi cab, set to Herrman's score. I got to thinking about Bernard Herrmann, how I had never really connected the man who scored this with the composer of Citizen Kane, Psycho and, perhaps my favourite music of his, the sweeping romanticism of Now, Voyager. I didn't have long to ruminate on him for long though, as the film started in earnest and I was pulled along in the tide. The cinematography, impressive enough when you're dog tired and straining to see a miniscule screen, was breathtaking when blown up. The film was grainy and flickery at times, but who cared? It only served to further the intense atmosphere.
As well as the technical and visceral aspects of seeing Taxi Driver in this way, much has to be said on the humour in this film. It's not exactly a comedy, but Travis' fumbling attempts to date Betsy are sweetly amusing and the audience responded wonderfully. The biggest laugh in the film came when Travis is buying the guns and the guy who sells them to him keeps offering more guns, more drugs "Crystal meth. I can get ya crystal meth," and finally, ludicrously, offering him a Cadillac. It felt great, to laugh along with 60 other people, at this masterpiece.

If anyone's interested in seeing Taxi Driver, whether on a repeat viewing or as a first-timer, I would strongly urge them to see it on a big screen if at all possible. As cinema goes, it's hard to beat.

"Spiderman 3" (2007) Sam Raimi

The central premise of Sam Raimi’s epic Spiderman 3 concerns the alien symbiote that crashes to earth and affixes itself to Tobey Maguire’s nerdy Peter Parker. This black goo influences Peter and he turns into “evil-Spidey”, illustrated in the film by a black suit and an emo fringe. Thus, the superhero is transformed, caught between his sweet, geektastic nobility and his newfound swagger, all eyeliner and hip-thrusts.

In somewhat the same way, I myself face an internal struggle when it comes to my feelings about Spidey 3. My purist self insists that it’s badly made, overlong and cheesy, while my snarky side tells me that it’s pure fun escapism. There’s no doubt that I was thoroughly entertained by most of this film (though at times I began to drift) but the snobbish side of me refuses to call it a Great Film.

My main problem is the sheer bulk of the film. In 2 ½ hours we have to grapple with three supervillians, the symbiote, Peter’s relationships with Mary Jane and Gwen Stacey and the tying up of any loose ends from the first two. Being a Spiderman movie, we have to have shots of our friendly neighbourhood you-know-what zooming through New York, a Stan Lee cameo and emotional pathos. Being a Sam Raimi movie, we need Bruce Campbell. Being the third and (most likely) final film with these actors, we need it to exceed all our expectations, thrill, amaze and move us. I’m not entirely sure it accomplished all this, but it certainly tried.

The three villains are all interesting in their own way. The Sandman (Thomas Hayden Church) has the best visuals and acting, but his story is a little sentimental even for a Spiderman film. Venom’s graphics are great, but Sam Raimi’s well-publicised dislike of the character means that he’s shoehorned in at the last minute and doesn’t get to do much (although Topher Grace makes a convincing Peter Parker negative). Harry Osborne (the wonderful James Franco) dons his father’s suit to create the best baddie; a proper backstory, likeable character and convincing acting make his scenes some of the standout moments. However, do we really need the three of them? The culmative battle scene with the four is impressive, but not worth the struggle it takes getting there, plodding through their various storylines with not enough time to fully explore any.

The alien symbiote is a strange beast, transforming our hero not into Evil Spiderman as much as Fall Out Spider-Boy. The scene in which he struts down the high street in full-on Saturday Night Fever mode is too bizarre for words. I would have much preferred a darker Spiderman. They could have easily have thrown the emo-stylin’s onto the dvd special features, but in a packed cinema the general air was that of utter bemusement.

At the screening I attended, the scenes that got the best receptions were the two humourous interludes. The first starred one of my favourite characters, editor of the Daily Bugle, J. Jonah Jameson, who got a chance to hark back to 1940’s screwball comedies for more screen time than ever before. The second scene involved Peter, M.J., a wedding ring and a hilarious French waiter, played by scene-stealer Bruce Campbell. Stan Lee’s cameo elected murmurs of approval from the audience as well, while I heard that at some screenings (although not, unfortunately, mine) the audience actually applauded Peter Parker for punching Mary-Jane. If Kirsten Dunst was a good actress, I’d care.

Following the magnificent Spiderman 2, this film is a definite step-down. Leave your sky-high expectations at the door, cheer at Bruce Campbell and enjoy the campiness of it all – just be thankful they didn’t hire Brett Ratner.

"Blades of Glory" (2007) Josh Gordon/Will Speck

There's no accounting for taste, especially in matters of the funny. While one person could see an Adam Sandler film and think “Hah, this is hilarious, Adam Sandler is the comedic genius of our age”, another person could see the same film and think “Hah, I’d rather stick my head in a toaster oven than endure another minute of this.”

Comedy is a fickle thing, varying greatly from one person to the next. I was once in a room with a girl I didn’t know very well. The Simpsons were on the television and this girl didn’t laugh once. Never even cracked a smile. This was when I decided I didn’t want to know her any better.

I’m equally picky though, when it comes to comedy films. There’s movies that have me spraining my stomach on every viewing (Mean Girls, Young Frankenstein, Singin’ in the Rain) and others that leave me cold (Borat, every Adam Sandler film, every “goofy” Robin Williams film). When I first heard about Blades of Glory I wasn’t interested in seeing it. Neither the appearance of Will Ferrell or the ice-skating set up were enticing enough to warrant me spending money on a ticket for it. However, when I read that the film also starred Will Arnett, my feelings shifted slightly. Anything will Will Arnett in it can’t be that awful, right?

Quite surprisingly, it wasn’t that awful.

The film opens in Stockholm, where the male figure skating championships are taking place. The two main contenders are both Americans; Chazz Michael Michaels (Ferrell) is the “sex-god” of the ice-rink, a pompous wannabe cowboy who makes all the ladies go wild with his raunchy free-styling, Jimmy MacElroy (Jon Heder) is the bucktoothed wunderkid, orphaned at a young age who now dazzles with technical precision. Both men are chronic show-offs and great skaters, although their style of skating could not be any different. They’re also mortal enemies, so it’s only natural that when they tie for the gold medal, a fistfight breaks out that results in them both getting banned from competitive skating for life. Aw, shucks.

Fastforward three years and both men are squandering their life and their talents working in deadend jobs. Jimmy is working in a skate-shop, trying to dispense professional advice to bratty kids who just want him to tie their laces and Chazz is getting sloshed as the part of “evil wizard” in a low budget children’s show that resembles “Disney on Ice” on acid. It’s Jimmy who gets out of the slump first, when a loophole uncovered by his obsessive stalker Hector allows him to reenter the world of competitive skating, if he skates as part of a double. In a thrilling plot twist that will shock the audience (or, at least those who haven’t seen any trailers or promo pics for the film), the skater he ends up teaming-up with is none other than Will Ferrell! Or I should say, Chazz Michael Michaels (but then, isn’t every Will Ferrell character just an extension of Will Ferrell?)

Once this premise is set up, the film is allowed to bring on the laughs. There’s a couple of feeble subplots with one involving Ferrell’s character being a sex-addict and a love story for Heder, but everyone knows the main point of this film is to show two men faffing around on the ice together. It’s true, there is something inherantly figure skating and if you don’t find the thought of two men pirouetting around the ice in glittering, skin-tight spandex to the strains of the Flash Gordon theme amusing, you should probably dispense with this review right now.

I’m not a huge Will Ferrell fan, I actually find his constant gurning kind of irritating. But I will admit that he’s a good physical comedy actor and when he’s paired with the skinny nerdtastic moves of Jon Heder, they turn out some hilarious routines. The dance scene of Napoleon Dynamite was the only bit of that film which I enjoyed and there’s echoes of it here, as the two men begin their training for the pair figure-skating championships. With Ferrel’s bulky buffoonery and Heder’s amusing mixture of grace and awkwardness, the routines on the ice are a delight to watch. Their first public performance together, to Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing” is hilarious and also kind of inspiring, as they slowly win over the audience.

My favourite of the routines, however, was executed by the baddies of the film, a show stealing turn by Will Arnett and his real-life wife Amy Poehler. The duo play Stranz and Fairchild Van Waldenberg, a cartoonishly wicked brother and sister skating pair who are determined to take the top spot over Chazz and Jimmy. The pair dominate every scene they’re in, whether it’s a hilarious J.F.K./Marilyn Monroe ice-skating routine, coaxing their innocent sister Katie into sleeping with Ferrell or just plain ol’ evil stuff. They mightn’t be the most realistic baddies ever created, but they provide the biggest laughs of the film.

At times the flimsy plot feels like it’s skating on thin ice (see what I did there?) and occasionlly the blades of Will Ferrell’s humour start to blunt (and again?), but you don’t go to see a film like this expecting great storylines or interesting character development. Blade of Glory mightn’t be the greatest film ever created, but by the time the wonderfully silly finale routine skates by, complete with sequined TRON outfits, I had thoroughly enjoyed myself.

"The Women" (1939) George Cukor

"There is a name for you, ladies, but it isn't used in high society... outside of a kennel."

In the midst of a slew of Almodóvar films that I've been watching lately (5 since Saturday, and still another dvd to go), I managed to catch the vintage cat-fight that is George Cukor's The Women on TCM today. It's a two and a half hour oestrogen fest, with over 130 female speaking roles and not a single man in sight (unless you count Joan Crawford, of course...).

I'd wanted to see The Women ever since I rented The Philadelphia Story earlier this year. Included in the meagre special features were trailers for the director George Cukor's other films, and the trailer for The Women was so funny that I knew I had to watch it. Happily, the film lived up to it's campy, bitchy, funny trailer. The plot is slightly incomprehensible. Far from me to attempt to describe it, here's what the IMDB had to say:

Wealthy Mary Haines is unaware her husband is having an affair with shopgirl Crystal Allen. Sylvia Fowler and Edith Potter discover this from a manicurist and arrange for Mary to hear the gossip. On the train taking her to a Reno divorce Mary meets the Countess and Miriam (in an affair with Fowler's husband). While they are at Lucy's dude ranch, Fowler arrives for her own divorce and the Countess meets fifth husband-to-be Buck. Back in New York, Mary's ex is now unhappily married to Crystal who is already in an affair with Buck. When Sylvia lets this story slip at a country club dinner, Crystal brags of her plans for a still wealthier marriage, only to find the Countess is the source of all Buck's money. Crystal must return to the perfume counter and Mary runs back to her husband.

It doesn't really matter that we follow along, though. There's enough barbed tongues, moments of slapstick and fabulous dresses at play to make The Women a tremendously enjoyable society comedy. One could argue the point that it's demeaning, as it portrays women as being vicious gossips who talk of nothing but men. It's fair enough, even though there are no males in the film, they're the subject of almost every conversation and the old Countess DeLave can't open her mouth without cooing "L'amour, l'amour", but the point of The Women isn't to give a complete portrait of the female species. Indeed, the author of the Broadway play the film is based on, Clare Boothe Luce, meant for it to be a satirical attack on society women. Under the masterful direction of George Cukor, however, The Women becomes more sympathetic to it's characters, in all their silly, vapid and cruel ways.

For me, Rosalind Russell is the stand-out star as the scheming Sylvia Fowler. In His Girl Friday she was perfectly cast as the snarkily sweet reporter Hildy Johnson, but here she gets to showcase what an animated nutcase she can be; eyes flashing, hands flailing, pursuing her lips in distain, she prowls around in full-on Bitch Mode,

"Oh, you remember the awful things they said about what's-her-name before she jumped out the window? There. You see? I can't even remember her name, so who cares?"

"You simply must see my hairdresser, I DETEST whoever does yours."

and takes it upon herself to (suureptitiously) alert other women of affairs their husbands may be having.

Her cruel streak doesn't go unnoticed by the others, as is humourously demonstrated in her scenes with an unnamed exercise instructor like the following extract:

Exercise instructress:Arms flat. Crawl slowly up the wall.
Sylvia Fowler:The way you say that makes me feel like vermin.
Exercise instructress: That shouldn't be much effort. I mean, crawling up the wall...

or this one

Exercise instructress: Mrs. Fowler you've hardly moved a muscle.
Sylvia Fowler:Whose carcass is this, yours or mine?
Exercise instructress:It's yours, but I'm paid to exercise it.
Sylvia Fowler:You sound like a horse trainer.
Exercise instructress: No, Mrs. Fowler, but you're getting warm.

Her devotion to the role is evident; in the scene where she is fighting with Paulette Godard, Russell apparently actually bit the actress on the leg for real. IMDB informs me that although this left a lasting scar on Godard's leg, the two remained good friends. Go figure.

So, it's not exactly politically correct (released in 1939, one character advises another to "sprawl out in bed like a swastika") and there's a bizarre fashion show in the middle that switches into technicolour for no apparent reason, but The Women is still fresh, funny and catty enough to warrant an Easter Monday watching. Hopefully rumours of a remake are unfounded, part of it's charm is the sleek, black & white stylish aspect and in today's modern times, a line like Joan Crawford's parting shot at the top of this review would just not work.

I have a weakness for questionnares.

Got this from Cinecism - give her a big hand, please! And read her blog, she's quite funny.

How old were you when you first went to the cinema andwhat did you watch?:
I can remember a couple, but I have a feeling the first one I went to see was Aladdin. Just looking it up on the IMDB, I find that it was released in 1992, which would have made me two years old. I don't know, that seems a bit young, no? Although feasibly I might have been three. I also definititely saw the Lion King when I was four with my dad. Afterwards he asked me, "Wasn't that very sad when the lion died?", which apparently prompted the reply (now family legend), "Yeah. But what I found really sad was that one person can destroy a whole nation and let it go to waste". Precocious, moi?

Three films about films and/or cinema:
I'm utterly lost by this question. Just name three films? Your favourite ones about film? Huh? I'll just go the easy option and name three great ones. Singin' in the Rain – the pains of the transition from silent movies to “talkies”, All About Eve – okay, it’s theatre, not cinema, but it’s all about acting and the roles people play, and Adaption – the trials and tribulations of screenwriting.

Favourite Actresses:
Old style - Bette Davis and Kate Hepburn. Nowadays...I like Cate Blanchett, Jodie Foster, Penelope Cruz and some others.

A film that changed your life and why:
The Lion King. Because it was the first film I really had an emotional attachment to. I saw it twice in the cinema and had these plastic figures of all the characters that I used to play with. It’s one of my earliest memories, crouching down behind the threadbare couch in the Credit Union, waiting for my granny, playing with Simba and Mufasa. Sadly, I lost the figures when I left my bag on the bus once. A few years later, my parents surprised me with a VHS of the film and I nearly cried with happiness.

Great directors but which film of their's is your favourite? Kubrick, Hitchcock, Powell & Pressburger, Kurosawa, Lang.
This one confuses me also. Favourite film from each? Favourite film in total? Be more clear here, people. I'll just say Hitchcock, because I've seen more Hitch films than anything. Favourite? I'll say...Rear Window.

Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd, Buster Keaton, Laurel And Hardy, who's the best?
Hector Mann. If anyone gets that reference, you can have my adbiding respect.

You're remaking a classic, which one and who's your new stars?
While some questions are confusing and some are boring, this one is blasphemy!

Miscast actors happens quite a bit, what's the worst you've seen?
Juliette Lewis in What's Eating Gilbert Grape?. I loved Johnny Depp and Leo diCaprio in it, I found the slightly-hokey storyline and quaint Americana feel enjoyably escapist, but anytime Ms. Lewis appeared on the screen it was all I could do not to turn off the dvd. Her whiney voice, squint, her habit of stretching out sentences until they lost all meaning - I just cannot stand the woman, and rooted for her death the whole way through.

Most overrated good movie?
The Shawshank Redemption. It’s a well-made piece of storytelling with some good acting, but that’s it really. Greatest film of all time? Hah.

Most overrated bad movie?
Nothing's coming to mind at the moment.

Worst movie ever?
I'm tempted to say Showgirls, but to be honest, it really is quite funny. And I have a soft spot for Kyle McLachlan, big ol' plank of wood that he is. So, I'm going to say either Dumb & Dumberer or Daddy Day Care. Both of which I saw in the cinema. Both of which against my will. Both of which were picked out by the same friend.

Favourite British films:
When I think of the words “British Films” I usually get a shiver of disgust roll down my spine. Images of Hugh Grant grinning foppishly, or Rowan Atkinson gurning away begin to circle nastily around my head. Shaking off these images takes some work, but then Danny Boyle comes to mind with Trainspotting and 28 Days Later.

Best road movies?
Thelma & Louise.

Favourite Actors:
Why are actors and actresses seperate? And isn't "actress" wrong, anyhow? Awh, feck it. I like Jimmy Stewart, Cary Grant, Ian McKellen.

Who Would Play You In A Biopic Of Your Life?
The little girl who played Madeline in the live-action film.

Most Irritating Cinema Advert Ever:
30..29..28..27..THE MOVIE IS ABOUT TO START. BUT THERE'S STILL TIME TO GRAB A COKE. The countdown makes me feel nervous, the annoying wimpy colours, the fact that there actually isn't time to GRAB A COKE and the in-your-face advertising all turn me off. I usually try to shut my eyes during it.


Which Film Magazines/Forums Do You Read?
Empire, every month. It's a nice blend of stupid and intelligent. I've tried others, Total Film, Hot Dog and the rest, but Empire's still my best.

You Have To Swap Your Life With A Movie Plot, Which One Do You Choose?
Singin' in the Rain, because if people spontaneously broke out into tap routines in their day to day lives, I'd be a whole lot happier. And 1920s film sets are one of my favourite film settings.

A film that scared you at the cinema/home?
Is "everything" an okay answer? No? Okay, at a sleepover in 2001 I saw Scream, I Know What You Did Last Summer, An Interview With The Vampire and some others. That night haunted me for months, there was literally no free moment that I didn't start to reply some of those images back in my head. On the more positive side of the scale, my family watched Wait Until Dark with Audrey Hepburn one Christmas and there was one scene where everyone simultaneously jumped in fright, but it was a fun fright.

Your favourite silent movie?
I watched The Wizard Of Oz with some friends back in September. It was that special edition dvd, the one that sings. Afterwards, we put on the special features and watched two silent versions of the film. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life.

A crap film that you know is crap but you love?
I know that Mean Girls isn’t Shakespeare, but in my mind it’s the best teen comedy since the days of John Hughes. I wouldn't say it was crap, per se, but people seem surprised when I mention how much I love it.

Favourite Directors: Hitchcock, Billy Wilder, Pedro Almodóvar.

Recommend three films that will change the way you view film:
All About My Mother, for those who hate Foreign Film. Sunset Boulevard, for almost breaking the fourth wall. Toy Story, for those who complain technology will overshadow good storytelling.

On Screen Love Stories:
Moulin Rouge! is the simplest of simple stories, but it’s beautifully executed, Casablanca for love and sacrifice and High Fidelity for honesty and good tunes.

Met Any Movie Stars?
Nope. Although Colin Farrell was in my local Superquinn last week (I was in Prague at the time) but he’s just manky anyway.

What's your favourite period of cinema? e.g. 20s German expressionism, French New Wave etc:
I haven’t gotten deep enough into period genres to give a comprehensive answer, but I’m fond of the Classic Era (1920s-1940s)

Favourite Soundtracks: All About My Mother, The Hours, Lost in Translation and Moulin Rouge.

What Films Need A Sequel:
None, because if they're really good then it'll just wreck their legacy and if they're really bad, why would you want more?

The film you’ve seen the most times: I’d say The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. I’ve seen all three LOTR a number of times, but for ages the first one was the only one I had on dvd and I used to just watch it on days with nothing else to do. Hasn’t diminished the power it has on me, though. I've also seen Mean Girls about 11 times. Somehow I've ended up seeing Ms. Congeniality about 6 times, but that's because for a while, every party/sleepover I was at had it playing.

The films you can quote ad infinitum
All About Eve, the first Toy Story, Mean Girls and the LOTR trilogy. Out of them all, I'd say Mean Girls is the one I can quote the best. I can even reel off some lines from the commentary, which is kinda sad.

Who’s your favourite cult film hero?
Ducky from Pretty in Pink. If a guy ever came into the record shop in which I worked and did a total wig-out dance to Try A Little Tenderness, I'd fall in love with him on the instant.

Pick one genre and give us five of your favourites from it e.g. Comedy, film noir, romance, musical etc:
Musical: Singin’ in the Rain, Moulin Rouge!, Guys & Dolls, The Lion King and The Wizard of Oz.

Two scenes that flood your tear ducts:
Hahahahahahaha. Two? Hahahahaha. *wipes eyes*….okay. In recent times, the end of Bobby (well, the whole way though actually, but the tears got more intense in the last 20 minutes or so) which wasn’t a great film, but really pulled out the emotional stops. And the scene in Toy Story where Buzz realises that he’s not an astronaut.

You're an interviewer, who do you interview and about which film?
I’d talk to (a resurrected) Donald O’Connor about filming Singin’ in the Rain. About whether Gene Kelly is really a bastard, how on earth he did those backflips, what Debbie Reynolds was like. And I’d shake his hand and say, “Sir, you did the best dance routine ever.”

Three great acting performances:
Because this question is almost exclusively male, I'll pick three girls for a change.Katherine Hepburn in Bringing up Baby (just hilarious, pairing her with Cary Grant is a match made in comedy heaven). Penelope Cruz in Volver (she was robbed! she was robbed! she was robbed!) Cecilia Roth in All About My Mother (for some of the best onscreen crying I've ever seen, among other reasons).

Who is your sex god/goddess? Young Robert deNiro, circa Taxi Driver.

Now you go!

"The Illusionist" (2006) Neil Burger

There’s a scene just at the end of The Illusionist in which Chief Inspector Uhl, played by a likable Paul Giamatti, suddenly gains understanding of what has just happened in the previous two hours. Standing in the middle of a crowded train station, he breaks into a wide grin, confident that all has explained to him. The mystery is solved. He is enlightened. It's not unlike the end of “The Usual Suspects”, when the detective figures out who Keyser Soze is. Except for one minor detail. The audience are still left completely in the dark and instead of feeling enlightened, I just felt irritated.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe the plot was too complicated, maybe I wasn’t paying attention as carefully as I should have been. But, leaving my possible stupidity out of the equation, the ending to The Illusionist is still an unsatisfactory pill to swallow. We have been completely duped by Edward Norton’s unblinking Eisenhiem, but as good as a magician as he is, he fails to address the fact that unless we have some way of riddling out the clues ourselves, half the fun is gone.

The Illusionist is a gothic fairytale set in early 20^th century Vienna. Edward Norton plays Eisenhiem, a tall, slender, brooding man with a penchant for magic tricks. More then a penchant, I suppose – this guy enthralls audiences with his set pieces, conjuring up orange trees out of thin air, making handkerchiefs disappear and reappear and he also does a mean “Sword-in-the-Stone” trick that has the local royals fuming. In the voiceover narration, sparingly done by Chief Inspector Uhl (so sparingly I actually forgot there was a VO to begin with and when he suddenly started narrating again halfway through the movie I became momentarily confused) we are told Eisenheim’s backstory, in the years when he was just a young boy who fell in love with a girl of a higher social class. Inevitably Edward (as he was then known) and Sophie are torn apart by the adults in their lives, and a depressed Eisenheim falls into the world of magic and trickery, before leaving his village to travel the world and perfect his craft. So far, so predictable. Philip Glass’ thunderous score jumping in at impromptu moments should serve to accentuate the tension and danger, instead it merely draws attention to the fact that the acting in these flashback scenes is so woefully bad that we don’t really care if Eisenheim never sees his childhood love again. But hey, this is Hollywood, and so she eventually walks back into his life - and onto his stage. Back in present day (well, the present day of the film) an older Sophie (played, almost convincingly, by Jessica Biel) is volunteered by her latest flame, the Prince of Vienna (a ridiculously coiffured Rufus Sewell) to accompany Eisenheim onstage in one of his tricks. Thus, the pair are reunited and the old embers of love begin to reignate. Rufus Sewell is having none of it though, and demonstrates his anger by doing one of two expressions: “Glass-Eyed Monotone” or “Scary Glass-Eyed Fury”.

The ending and Rufus Sewell are two of the things I liked least about The Illusionist. There were also plenty of things I really enjoyed about it, mainly the cinematography. Or, as I put it to my sister upon leaving the cinema, “wow, pretty colours!”. Monochrome street scenes tinged with golden light, the flickering candle intensity of the magic shows, the almost technicolour glory of the train station, this is an extremely aesthethicly pleasing film. The quibbles I have with Philip Glass are fairly minor; he does tend to copy himself an awful lot and sometimes his scores are too overbearing (“Strings! Descending piano scales! Strings! Intensity! Pulsing strings!”), but that doesn’t change the fact I really dig his music. Even though I think he needs to borrow “Film Music For Dummies” from his local library and give it a quick thumb.

I wouldn’t discourage people from seeing this in the cinema. The presence of Edward Norton alone should be enough to entice many people to purchase a ticket and his performance is a treat. While his accent took me a little while to get used to, I quickly became accustumed to his mannered, strange way of speaking and totally believed in his character. It’s a fairly well-made, pretty production and even if the ending leaves you scratching your head/shaking it in disgust, it’s gaurunteed better than Norbit.

My week and the Oscars

First off, I would like to take this occasion to curse the internet, computers, faulty wires and my left foot. I had most of this entry all typed up when my foot dislodged the wires connecting the laptop to the mains, therefore turning off the power, thus losing everything. Excuse me while I raise my fist to the sky and lament my misfortunes…

…okay. Now, I just cannot fathom that it is already Saturday. You see, Saturday will inevitably lead onto Sunday, which will, in all probability, lead onto school. Sunday also means the Oscars, but to be honest it’s the return to school that’s making the most fuss in my head right now. Not that I can complain too much about my midterm break, it was quite enjoyable, if brief. I saw a lot of films, took up walking every day and went to the cinema. I’m going to start with the cinema trip, because I’m a sucker for that moment when the the lights dim and the music starts…

Notes on a Scandal (2006) Richard Eyre

Back in late 2006 I read the Zoe Heller novel and loved it. I thought it was gripping, well written and fresh. The characters were deftly drawn and it employed the use of unreliable narrator, that old trick that still works time and time again. And yet, when this film was released, I didn’t immediately run out to see it. I’m not sure why, just a lack of incentive.

After finally viewing it on Thursday evening in Cineworld (I love this cinema so much, I need to give it a name drop now and again), I still feel a little…underwhelmed. Notes on a Scandal: based on a magnificent novel, with a competent director and screenwriter at it’s helm, two seasoned and versatile actresses in the leads, with a score by Philip Glass. It ticks every box, and yet somehow I felt that this film was less than the sum of it’s parts.

Let me start with the score: Glass, although not my favourite contemporary composer, is a guy I like and admire. “Einstein on the Beach” is a masterpiece and his score for “The Hours” is probably my all time favourite film score. I’ve listened to that cd innumerable times, and so, it appears, has Glass. It sounds like he struggled with creating an original score and nicked from his previous work. The familiar motifs, pulsing strings, repititive piano lines increasing as the tension in the film increases; they’re all here. The music works in the context of the film, but unfortunatly the main purpose it served was to remind me of the (far superior) music in “The Hours”.

Both leads are great, Blanchett easily embodying the flighty, fey art teacher caught up in an affair with a 15 year old pupil, and Dench presiding over everything with her frightening eyes and disaproving voice-overs. A friend commented, of Dench’s preformance that it was a hard role to play badly, which is true, but I think she managed to inject enough pathos into the aged History teacher to make me both supremely terrified by her and also sorry for her. The casting of an actor of roughly the right age for Stephen Connolly was a brave move.

I’m still not entirely sure why this film didn’t completely work: the tension felt a little forced at times, or maybe it was because I enjoyed the original novel so much, but something made this film fall at the last hurdle just short of being a Great Film.

I do need to give it props for including a totally random conversation about Siouxsie and the Banshees. Yay!

Other films I’ve watched this week include The Deer Hunter, Blow Out, Taxi Driver, Casablanca, The Big Sleep, Little Miss Sunshine, The Graduate, Twin Peaks Season 1 (okay, not a film), Laura, Jezebel and Live Flesh. As I’m not arsed writing out a big post about all these films, I’ll just mention some highlights:

Christopher Walken in The Deer Hunter: I stayed up till 4am this morning watching this film, because I literally couldn’t find one moment to stop watching. Robert De Niro was always going to be great in it and Meryl Streep fleshed out her character well, but for me the standout star was Walken. Cast away any images of him dancing around a hotel to the strains of Fatboy Slim; this is a young Walken, nervy and hollow cheeked (he achieved this look by eating nothing but bananas and rice), playing his character with such sympathy and wild-eyed destructiveness that you root for him until the very end. Without giving away any spoilers, I’ll just say that how his character ends up is one of the worst (in a good way, I mean) and most emotional moments I’ve ever seen on screen. The transition from floppy-haired innocent in the first third of the film to the vacant monster he becomes is rendered even more awful by the way Christopher Walken plays it with such subtle intensity.

"La Marseillaise" in Casablanca. When I first saw the film I think I was too young to understand most of the themes and the storyline, but that scene where Victor makes the band play "La Marseillaise" moved me alot. Watching it again earlier in the week, I was in tears. It’s a beautiful, stirring scene in a movie full of memorable moments. My other favourite scene is...oh, it's a tie between when Rick is left at the train station with the note and the final scene at the airport. I also love reading all the stories about the filming of Casablanca; how the mechanics tending to the plane were all actually midgets, how Ingrid Bergman asked the writers which guy she was supposed to be in love with and they hadn't a clue so they instructed her "Just play it down the middle", the fact that "As Time Goes By" was going to be taken out in favour of an original song but was left in at the last minute, how Ronald Reagan (!) was going to play Rick...I love trivia like that. They really don’t make films like Casablanca any more, and no, The Good German doesn’t count.

The Graduate. This, for me, was the biggest surprise. I rented it from the library for no particular reason, I have no great love for Dustin Hoffman and I didn’t know too much about the film. It was a revelation, the music, cinematography and storyline combining humor and sadness in a beautiful wa. It’s a subdued film, filled with quiet moments of reflection between the funny parts and the hurtling chase of the last twenty minutes. I already want to rewatch it!

Every film (and tv series) I watched over the week had something going for it, whether it was Humphrey Bogart’s rapport with Lauren Bacall in The Big Sleep or Bette Davis’ pop-eyed fury in Jezebel.

Now, onto the Oscars tomorrow.

I’ll freely admit it, I’ve seen very few of the nominated films. For example, the Best Picture Category:

Babel
The Departed
Letters From Iwo Jima
Little Miss Sunshine
The Queen

Out of these, all I’ve seen is LMS. Which, incidentally, I enjoyed – great ensemble work, moving, humourous, some parts didn’t quite work but a sweet little film. I’m longing to see The Departed and The Queen and will be most definitely be catching them on dvd.

Anyhow, I’ll run through the main categories and pick my favourite. Disclaimer – not who I think will win, who I want to win.

Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material Previously Produced or Published
Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan
Children Of Men
The Departed
Little Children
Notes On A Scandal

Best Writing, Screenplay Written Directly For The Screen
Babel
Letters From Iwo Jima
Little Miss Sunshine
El Labertino Del Fauno (Pan's Labyrinth)
The Queen

Best Achievement In Directing
Clint Eastwood (Letters From Iwo Jima)
Stephen Frears (The Queen)
Paul Greengrass (United 93)
Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu (Babel)
Martin Scorsese (The Departed)

I do kinda think it would be hilarious if Marty lost out again, but another part of me feels sorry for the guy. Just give it to him, already!

Best Performance By An Actress In A Supporting Role
Adrianna Barraza (Babel)
Cate Blanchett (Notes On A Scandal)
Abigail Breslin (Little Miss Sunshine)
Jennifer Hudson (Dream Girls)
Rinko Kikuchi (Babel)

Best Performance By An Actor In A Supporting Role
Alan Arkin (Little Miss Sunshine)
Jackie Earle Haley (Little Children)
Djimon Hounsou (Blood Diamond)
Eddie Murphy (Dream Girls)
Mark Wahlberg (The Departed)

Best Performance By An Actress In A Leading Role
Penelope Cruz (Volver)
Judi Dench (Notes On A Scandal)
Helen Mirren (The Queen)
Meryl Streep (The Devil Pears Prada)
Kate Winslet (Little Children)

This is the category I’m most interested in, having seen three of the nominations. It’s most likely going to be a walkover for Mirren, which is not a bad thing, but I’m still hoping for Penelope Cruz. Volver got so snubbed this year at the awards and unjustly.


Best Performance By An Actor In A Leading Role
Leonardo DiCaprio (Blood Diamond)
Ryan Gosling (Half Nelson)
Peter O'Toole (Venus)
Will Smith (The Pursuit of Happyness)
Forrest Whitaker (The Last King Of Scotland)

Although Will Smith was great (and is the only performance here I’ve seen), I think they should just give O’ Toole the fricking award. He’s waited long enough.

Best Motion Picture Of The Year
Babel
The Departed
Letters From Iwo Jima
Little Miss Sunshine
The Queen

I can’t wait until I see The Queen.

Right so – it’s nearing 5pm and I’m still in my pjs. Sayonara!

Dreamgirls (2006) Bill Condon

Bathed in the etheral blue light that suffuses this film, three coiffured, shimmering superstars step out onto the stage. Hips swaying in hypnotic synchronicity, they begin to harmonise. There is a rustle in the crowd, whispers about the show that’s just beginning. The final show in a glittering career, a career filled with more highs and lows than the Mighty Mouse Rollercoaster at Funderland. This is the culmination of a lifetime’s work, blood, sweat and tears.

Moments later, the crowd have been whipped up into an ecstatic frenzy, whooping and cheering, stamping their feet in joyful celebration. Tearful, the lead singer on the stage grabs the hands of her fellow bandmembers. “I promised you I wouldn’t cry,” she smiles ruefully. “I’m just so happy.”

This is the finale of Dreamgirls. I’m sure I’m not going to give away any spoilers by mentioning that there is a monster finale, and a big, showstopping one at that, filled with redemption, friendship, hope and and some whopping great tunes. Even a quick glance at the posters for this Oscar-nominated film could tell you that much. This lavish, colourful whirlwind through Motown and Disco starring Beyoncé Knowles, Eddie Murphy and Jennifer Hudson has been nominated for 8 Acadamy Awards. It’s easy to understand why, director Bill Condon has proved extremely capable job of transferring the Broadway hit onto the big screen and Hudson, in particular, shines in her first acting role.

Dreamgirls starts off well, centering around a talent contest in Detroit, Michigan. The year is 1962 and Motown Music is quickly gathering steam. We are given a glimpse of some of the acts, a chubby-faced blues guitarist, a finger-clicking soul group, each song sending a shiver up my spine that bodes well for the rest of the film. The Dreamettes, a three-piece girl group with store-bought wigs and cheap dresses, put on an admirable performance but are ultimately disapointed when the judges announce the winners. Deena (Beyonce Knowles), Lorrell (Anika Noni Rose) and their lead singer Effie (Jennifer Hudson) console each other half-heartedly and seem ready to give up their aspirations of superstardom altogther when a suave, suited Jamie Foxx intervenes. Foxx’s Curtis Taylor Jr. is a car-salesman with ambitions and an interesting proposal; would the Dreamettes like to sing backing for Jimmy “Thunder” Early, a rising RnB star who has already gained notoriety for his crazy stage antics? The three girls, after some minor coaxing, agree to join Early and thus begin their true showbiz career.

Jimmy “Thunder” Early is Eddie Murphy’s only decent role in years, to my recall. A far cry from his usual fat-suit films, Murphy gives a true performance; singing, dancing and sweating his way through the role. His character is a manic drug-addict, a sleazeball charmer who cheats on his wife and the catalyst for the eventual fractures in the Dreamette’s close-knit friendship. While the young, naïve Lorrell tries to resist Thunder’s advances, the relationship between Deena and Effie begins to strain as management decides to switch their roles in the band. While pretty, thin-voiced Deena is placed at the front, the larger, more talented Effie is shunted to the back, much to her disapointment. This betrayal results in Effie leaving the band, right before the Dreams (as they are rechristened) rise to the very top.

Dreamgirls has it’s faults. For one, it seems to last for ever and I’m sure a good twenty minutes could have been cropped off without the story being too affected. A general slimming down wouldn’t have gone amiss, even though for the most part the songs are fantastic, a few less would have greatly improved the film. A cringe-worthy musical number about “being a family” was almost embarrassing and let down the tension, just when it began to built. It also seems to slow down a little in the 3^rd Act, a fact which slightly irked me as I was impatient to get to the grand-finale. Some of the characters are one-dimensional and the emotional impact is lessened by the length of it.

Having said this, Dreamgirls is still a good film. The costumes are definitely an integral part of musicals and this doesn’t disapoint, with the girls appearing in new, fabulous dresses every few minutes. The shift from the 60s to the 70s is well defined in the clothes and hairstyles of the main characters, with montages highlighting the cultural change as well. Cinematography is also a highlight, with the aforementioned blue light drenching over the stage, creating a picture that is extremely beautiful to watch. The actors are all cast well, with Hudson shining in her debut role and masterfully dominating every scene she’s in.

While it’s many faults ultimately let it down, there’s no denying that Dreamgirls is an emotional tour de force, glittering and gaudy, an invasion of the senses that pulls out every stop to entertain. And when all’s said, when the critics have sharpened their claws, there’s nothing left to do but sit back and enjoy it.

January Films

Harvey
Watched this up in Sligo with the folks, who I think were a little apprehensive. Dare I say their doubt was completely unfounded? Yes, I do! Jimmy Stewart is the perfect choice for the loveable Elwood P. Dowd, an amiable gentlemen who's best friend just happens to be a six-foot tall bunny rabbit (the eponymous Harvey). Touching, genuinely funny and cute without being irritating, this is a must see.

Vertigo
Okay, I love Hitchcock as much as the next person. And I especially like it when Hitch is directing James Stewart (see: Rear Window and the criminally underrated Rope). I also like the sinister stories about how this film reflects Hitch's desire to mold every actress into his ideal of an ice-cool blonde. Unfortunately, I also liked the hilariousness of this film...which I doubt was the desired effect.

All About Eve
My all time favourite film. Written and directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz and starring Bette Davis (as an ageing actress, suitably fitting), All About Eve is not only a scathing look at Hollywood, a disturbing account of growing old and an almost Hitchcockian tale of double-crossing and identity-thievery, but it is also one of the wittiest films I have ever seen. It's the role Davis was born to play and also stars Marilyn Monroe in a small cameo. Off the top of my head, I can think of numerous fabulous quotes and snatches of dialogue. Relentless. Brilliant. Depressing. See it!

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Bette Davis again, this time paired up with her "arch-nemisis" Joan Crawford. I'm slightly skeptical about the whole Davis/Crawford fued story. I don't doubt they disliked each other ("Joan Crawford has slept with every male star at MGM except Lassie", Bette Davis) but I'm also fairly sure that part of their supposed hatred of each other was fabricated by the studios. The casting in this sinister, yet amusing film is inspired though, with Davis (slathered in make-up and looking fairly demented) cackling away over her crippled sister.

Kill Bill Volume I
Bright, super-stylised, violent, joyful pastiche of every film Quentin Tarantino has ever loved, ever (including some of his own). I knew that this film lacked some of QT's trademark sparky-dialogue, which I did miss. However, I settled down to enjoy blood spurting from every corner, Uma Thurman holding court in a yellow tracksuit and, my personal highlight, the amazing soundtrack (constant rotation I tell ya, constant rotation).

Guys & Dolls
It's Marlon Brando! Singing! In really bright technicolour! "Luck Be A Lady" is the stand-out song, Frank Sinatra is a little annoying and it doesn't enter the same ballpark as Singin' in the Rain or West Side Story. It's still a fun, colourful picture with some neat dialogue.

The Usual Suspects
I hate Channel Four. It was on one of their inane countdown of the top 100-whatevers that the central twist of this film was divulged to the nation....before I had seen it. Undeterred, I caught it on FilmFour earlier this month and although I enjoyed and admired it, the overall impact was slightly lessened by the fact that I already knew who Keyser Soze was! Argh. Oh, fun fact: year ago, Gabriel Byrne, one of the Suspects, used to deliver the post round where my dad lived. He had the hots for one of my aunts and used to ring the bell in the hope she'd answer. Ah, in a paralell universe, I am Gabriel Byrne's niece.

His Girl Friday
For some reason, I watched this whole film thinking the Hildy Johnson character was played by Katharine Hepbrun. Probably I was getting it confused with Bringing Up Baby. I got a bit of a shock when the end credits rolled with "Rosalind Russell". Ah, fuck it, they're both from Connecticut. Justified. I was laughing too hard to notice who the hell she was played by at any rate. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant.

Bad Education
Almodóvar does Hitchcock, while retaining his love for transvestites and the like. Out of all his films I've seen, the cinematography is probably the best so far (the football game, the swimming pool shots, the scene at the lake) and Gael Garcia Bernal makes a thoroughly convincing woman.

The Pursuit of Happyness
I've already written about this: nice turn from Smith, cute kid, uplifting message blah blah blah.

Bringing Up Baby
Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn in The Best Comedy Film. Of All Time. Ever. In The Universe. In My Opinion. Okay, but seriously, this is a total gem. Screwball, slapstick, innuendo, irony, puns and a leopard. All tied up in a crazy plot (try to explain it to somebody, sounds utterly stupid, doesn't it?) with Cary Grant having the time of his life and Katharine Hepburn falling down and into rivers and off dinosaurs and through bushes and in love. Hah!

Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down!
Almodóvar again. The earliest of his that I've watched. It's funny, sexy and a little dark. Antonio Banderas is a delight!

Mr. Smith Goes To Washington
Jimmy Stewart again. Idealistic, big-eyed senator Mr. Smith with his genuine love for America and his eager plans doesn't stand a chance in Washington. For climatic, filibuster scene, Stewart dried out his throat with bicarbonate of soda. Now THERE'S the kind of man we need taking an active part in the running of this country. Eh, that country, rather. America.


Now, Voyager
It's Bette Davis! (Yay!!) With big eyebrows and frumpy dresses! (Boo!!) Smoking like a chimney! (Duh!!) Did someone just scream "Melodrama!?" Yes, indeedy, the mother of all melodramas. The plot's slightly implausible (from slightly insane frump to slim beauty in three months?) and the continual break-downs may grate a little if you're in the wrong mood, but it's still a classic. And you can't deny the ending: the lighting of the two cigarettes, "Don't lets ask for the moon Jerry, we have the stars!" and the swelling music as the camera pans up to the moonlit sky...excuse me, I've got a little something in my eye..

Bobby
...you're going to have to excuse me for a good while, folks. By the end of this Emilio Estevez film I was a complete wreck. This nearly beats the finale of Doctor Who in the Makes-Catherine-Cry polls. This film, along
with Mr. Smith goes to Washington and The West Wing, does the difficult job of making me feel hopeless patriotic towards a country I've never been too. While some of the interlocking characters and storylines don't quite work (Ashton Kutcher's stoner treaded the fine line between dispensible and vomit-inducing), the ultimate point was poignant and well-crafted. The use of the music, especially Simon & Garfunkel, was noteworthy in the quiet manner it scored the tragedy. I swear, the next film I see in the cinema better not make me cry...

So there we have it, every film I watched from the 1st-31st of January. Pas mal, pas mal.