Even having seen a couple of Malick's other films, The Thin Red Line and The New World, Days of Heaven - his second feature, from the 70s (but on at the Nova) - is startling. For me, it's driven by the visuals and the cinematography - the hazily pearlescent beauty of every shot - but it's all of a piece with the elliptical narrative and voice-over narration. It's a film that seems to both invite and resist a thematic reading; it's at the level of experience that it most strikes me.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Scarlett Thomas - Our Tragic Universe
Timely for me to finally read this one. I've worked out that it was about two years ago that things kind of ground to a halt for me on this front - that huge wave of enthusiasm about current literature and ideas slowed to a trickle, while my own writing came to a complete halt. And I think it must have been around that time that I first tried to read Our Tragic Universe, making it most of the way through but frankly not really enjoying it and bogging down completely near the end - which was all the more surprising, not to mention disappointing, given how brilliant PopCo and The End of Mr Y in particular were and Thomas's position at the time as my reigning literary crush.
Anyway, as I said, timely, seeing as I've finally been writing again these last few weeks, meaning that I'm ripe for a return to Thomas, whose writing has particularly struck me in the past because of the effect that she's able to achieve, at times with an air of the infraordinary, while not being shy of the extraordinary either. And timely because Our Tragic Universe is much preoccupied with the nature - and mechanics - of story and of literature (the universe is tragic, in at least once sense, to the extent that it may conform to, or be understandable in terms of, the structures of Greek tragedy).
Near the beginning, my heart sank when one of the characters describes a scene from Aristophane' play The Frogs: "Aeschylus proves that any of Euripides' clever but formulaic stories could be about someone losing a bottle of oil. The point seemed to be that every formulaic story starts with a conflict that's later resolved - like losing a bottle of oil and then finding it again." Because I realised that my own in-progress would, on one dimension, fit that description. But Our Tragic Universe turns out to be far from a simplistic condemnation of formula and conventional narrative and structure; rather, it develops into, while enacting, a treatment of the ways in which stories necessarily draw on certain structures without this foreclosing the possibility of something new and interesting being created. I found out recently that Thomas has put out a kind of 'how to' book for writers - a genre that I've never had any interest in, but would consider making an exception for in her case...though in some ways OTU itself serves that same function.
Anyway, as fiction - literature - I think it is more interesting than really outstanding, to be honest. It's always a bit problematic to make your central character a writer and then load up the novel with her (or him) having lots of thoughts and conversations about writing, even when - as here - it's in aid of a genuine intellectual exploration of the nature and possibilities of story-telling itself. The setting's deliberately mundane...but still mundane. And while there are a range of symbolic figures structuring the narrative - a Beast, a Labyrinth, a ship in a bottle, a prophecy - it has a tendency to feel a bit like an exercise, albeit a serious-mindedly literary one, more than literature itself as such.
Having said that, it clearly made me think and react, and if anything has deepened my regard for the author, even though I enjoyed it less than that great pair of PopCo and The End of Mr Y. Also, like The Unbearable Lightness of Being before it, it made me want to read Anna Karenina (a thought that I'd also had recently, thanks to that snowy train platform scene in The Grandmaster) - the one possible exception to my otherwise blanket ban on serious Russian novels.
Anyway, as I said, timely, seeing as I've finally been writing again these last few weeks, meaning that I'm ripe for a return to Thomas, whose writing has particularly struck me in the past because of the effect that she's able to achieve, at times with an air of the infraordinary, while not being shy of the extraordinary either. And timely because Our Tragic Universe is much preoccupied with the nature - and mechanics - of story and of literature (the universe is tragic, in at least once sense, to the extent that it may conform to, or be understandable in terms of, the structures of Greek tragedy).
Near the beginning, my heart sank when one of the characters describes a scene from Aristophane' play The Frogs: "Aeschylus proves that any of Euripides' clever but formulaic stories could be about someone losing a bottle of oil. The point seemed to be that every formulaic story starts with a conflict that's later resolved - like losing a bottle of oil and then finding it again." Because I realised that my own in-progress would, on one dimension, fit that description. But Our Tragic Universe turns out to be far from a simplistic condemnation of formula and conventional narrative and structure; rather, it develops into, while enacting, a treatment of the ways in which stories necessarily draw on certain structures without this foreclosing the possibility of something new and interesting being created. I found out recently that Thomas has put out a kind of 'how to' book for writers - a genre that I've never had any interest in, but would consider making an exception for in her case...though in some ways OTU itself serves that same function.
Anyway, as fiction - literature - I think it is more interesting than really outstanding, to be honest. It's always a bit problematic to make your central character a writer and then load up the novel with her (or him) having lots of thoughts and conversations about writing, even when - as here - it's in aid of a genuine intellectual exploration of the nature and possibilities of story-telling itself. The setting's deliberately mundane...but still mundane. And while there are a range of symbolic figures structuring the narrative - a Beast, a Labyrinth, a ship in a bottle, a prophecy - it has a tendency to feel a bit like an exercise, albeit a serious-mindedly literary one, more than literature itself as such.
Having said that, it clearly made me think and react, and if anything has deepened my regard for the author, even though I enjoyed it less than that great pair of PopCo and The End of Mr Y. Also, like The Unbearable Lightness of Being before it, it made me want to read Anna Karenina (a thought that I'd also had recently, thanks to that snowy train platform scene in The Grandmaster) - the one possible exception to my otherwise blanket ban on serious Russian novels.
Monday, June 24, 2013
World War Z
This was a lot better than you might've expected from the tidal wave of disappointment - or perhaps that was more expectation of disappointment - that has surrounded the film's release. Sure it's perhaps too obviously episodic in the way that it whisks Brad Pitt from location to interesting zombie-resistin' location, and no it's not a true zombie genre movie (like I care), but it's also genuinely tense and exciting, through to a somewhat more low-key and differently satisfying climax than the preceding full-tilt action would lead you to expect (involving a haggard looking Peter Capaldi aka Malcolm from The Thick of It no less). I hope they make a sequel.
(watched this one on my own, Sunday night, imax 3d - ah glamorous bachelor lifestyle)
(watched this one on my own, Sunday night, imax 3d - ah glamorous bachelor lifestyle)
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Mud
Given how much I've always been annoyed by Matthew McConaughey, you wouldn't think that a film being promoted with a poster that just shows him glowering into the middle distance would particularly appeal. But the references in the Nova's weekly email digest to Stand by Me and Huckleberry Finn intrigued me - I'm drawn to coming of age films, and also to renditions of americana (another in this southern, Mississippi stream that recently struck me was the fantastic Beasts of the Southern Wild) - and Mud delivered. Beautifully shot, lingering on images of the river and its foliage and wildlife, as well as the human wreckage (and lives) surrounding it, and has an apt sense of mystery and ambiguity; while it relies on a classic final act crisis and resolution and is maybe just a tad neat in how all the pieces tie together, the ending is satisfying. McConaughey good (this plus Killer Joe forces a reappraisal), likewise everyone else, including the central child actors and the supporting adult cast, not least Reese Witherspoon (ubiquitous to the point that it might almost be surprising that she's an excellent actor) - though it must be said that women do not get a good run in this one.
(w/ David and Nenad)
(w/ David and Nenad)
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Arrested Development 1-3
What a truly wonderful show, still richly layered and funny after umpteen watchings (most recently), this one being nominally in preparation for season 4.
Also, pleasingly: I already had a friend who reminds me of Maeby (Zoe) and knew someone else who I have considerably more respect for than the fact that he sometimes makes me think of Gob - still my favourite character - just a little bit suggests (JH - not Jarrod obviously!), but this time round Lindsay, in certain mannerisms, brought Penny to mind at times (who was totally into it when I told her last night).
Also, pleasingly: I already had a friend who reminds me of Maeby (Zoe) and knew someone else who I have considerably more respect for than the fact that he sometimes makes me think of Gob - still my favourite character - just a little bit suggests (JH - not Jarrod obviously!), but this time round Lindsay, in certain mannerisms, brought Penny to mind at times (who was totally into it when I told her last night).
Monday, June 17, 2013
Underground Lovers - Weekend
For all that their sound owes to several of the key streams flowing through 80s and 90s indie, there's always been something just a little out of time about the Underground Lovers, whether it be in the classicism of pop gems like "Losin' It" or the electronic/guitar vibes of cuts like "Your Eyes" and "Cold Feeling"; their latest - and first for some years - Weekend is no exception. Not especially exciting, but pretty nice.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
The Great Gatsby
For the most part, Luhrmann's Gatsby is quite a literal adaptation of the Fitzgerald - which isn't to say that it's necessarily a completely faithful version. The literal-ness comes from the way that much of the overall thrust, and all of the main scenes, from the source text are transposed to screen, and often very much larger than life when it comes to key images - the green light and the all-seeing eyes being the most obvious.
It feels like a sincere attempt to render 'the book itself', which inevitably - given the different medium - involves directly presenting much that comes across more obliquely in Carraway's narration, for all of its apparent detail; unsurprisingly, Luhrmann highlights the spectacular and the dramatic elements of the story, which is mostly effective although sometimes distractingly unsubtle. On the point of 'faithfulness', though, there are a range of departures - from least to most significant, the framing device of Nick's writing the book while in a sanitarium, some narration near the beginning that I'm fairly sure is more overt than anything in the novel, a rendition of Nick's relationship with Jordan Baker that seems to completely omit a romantic element, and a suggestion that Daisy tried to call Gatsby at the very end (that last, small though it is, a fundamental departure).
Taken as a whole, while it was far from greatness so far as films and film adaptations go, I quite liked it; it had something of the original for me, and I think a certain quality in its own right. Also, for whatever reason, I'm not sure those famous final words - So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past - have struck home quite as much on any of my readings of the novel as they did up on screen this afternoon. So that's something.
(w/ Mehnaz)
It feels like a sincere attempt to render 'the book itself', which inevitably - given the different medium - involves directly presenting much that comes across more obliquely in Carraway's narration, for all of its apparent detail; unsurprisingly, Luhrmann highlights the spectacular and the dramatic elements of the story, which is mostly effective although sometimes distractingly unsubtle. On the point of 'faithfulness', though, there are a range of departures - from least to most significant, the framing device of Nick's writing the book while in a sanitarium, some narration near the beginning that I'm fairly sure is more overt than anything in the novel, a rendition of Nick's relationship with Jordan Baker that seems to completely omit a romantic element, and a suggestion that Daisy tried to call Gatsby at the very end (that last, small though it is, a fundamental departure).
Taken as a whole, while it was far from greatness so far as films and film adaptations go, I quite liked it; it had something of the original for me, and I think a certain quality in its own right. Also, for whatever reason, I'm not sure those famous final words - So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past - have struck home quite as much on any of my readings of the novel as they did up on screen this afternoon. So that's something.
(w/ Mehnaz)
Steven D Levitt & Stephen J Dubner - Freakonomics
Well, I can see why this was so popular - the discussion is extremely accessible, built as it is on readily intelligible data and a treatment of incentives that draws comfortably on the more 'behavioural' stream of economics (significantly increasing its intuitive appeal), and interesting both in approach and conclusions. It's the kind of book that invites contestation - and, eight years on, I would guess that its huge cultural impact has probably removed much of the novelty that its approach apparently had in the mass market on release - and the regression analysis on which the actual results for which it argues depend is, of course, not presented (and would've been opaque to me, like other lay readers, even had it been included), but having said all of that, nonetheless entertaining and thought-provoking and an interesting, and not clearly off the mark, perspective.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
The Grandmaster
A martial arts movie by Wong Kar Wai, and easily the most straight-up genre piece he's done apart from As Tears Go By, from right back at the beginning of his spectacular career. Having said that, it certainly has his distinctive feel, with the allusive and metaphorical possibilities of the genre and its philosophical underpinnings coming richly to life through the film's characters and images. And, like all WKW films, The Grandmaster is preoccupied with the passage of time, piercingly and nostalgically backwards-looking, staging its variations on that theme, along with other familiar motifs of connection and disconnection, reflection and doubling, amidst the frequent fight scenes.
The most satisfying of those set pieces comes about two thirds of the way through, when Zhang Ziyi's (incidentally, a revelation - while she's always an ornament to any film she's in, here she turns in a truly great performance) character, Gong Er, confronts the renegade Ma San (Zhang Jin, who I don't think I've seen before) who had killed her father years (I think) earlier - the silk to his steel, as the narratorial voice of the legendary martial artist Ip Man (played by a weathered Tony Leung with a gravitas befitting both the character and the actor's own stature) had earlier described it. Many of the lush, beautiful settings of the film are only loosely tied to a naturalistic perspective - at times calling to mind that spectacular expressionistic overture to von Trier's Melancholia - but this one, probably the film's highlight, comes closest to pure fantasy, as the two adversaries face off against each other on a train platform as the snow comes down, a seemingly endless train racing by behind them.
The Grandmaster isn't perfect - most jarringly, the character and arc of the Razor (Chang Chen) is oddly undeveloped, and while the director's past form might lead us to expect a certain elliptical unresolvedness, the comparatively straightforward narrative progression of this one leaves the sub-plot feeling more like a loose end than a genuinely illuminating resonance. But all told, it's still rather wonderful - an immersive, involving, poetic film, painting from a vivid palette and anchored by an emotional core. Wong's one of my very favourite directors, and he doesn't disappoint here.
The most satisfying of those set pieces comes about two thirds of the way through, when Zhang Ziyi's (incidentally, a revelation - while she's always an ornament to any film she's in, here she turns in a truly great performance) character, Gong Er, confronts the renegade Ma San (Zhang Jin, who I don't think I've seen before) who had killed her father years (I think) earlier - the silk to his steel, as the narratorial voice of the legendary martial artist Ip Man (played by a weathered Tony Leung with a gravitas befitting both the character and the actor's own stature) had earlier described it. Many of the lush, beautiful settings of the film are only loosely tied to a naturalistic perspective - at times calling to mind that spectacular expressionistic overture to von Trier's Melancholia - but this one, probably the film's highlight, comes closest to pure fantasy, as the two adversaries face off against each other on a train platform as the snow comes down, a seemingly endless train racing by behind them.
The Grandmaster isn't perfect - most jarringly, the character and arc of the Razor (Chang Chen) is oddly undeveloped, and while the director's past form might lead us to expect a certain elliptical unresolvedness, the comparatively straightforward narrative progression of this one leaves the sub-plot feeling more like a loose end than a genuinely illuminating resonance. But all told, it's still rather wonderful - an immersive, involving, poetic film, painting from a vivid palette and anchored by an emotional core. Wong's one of my very favourite directors, and he doesn't disappoint here.
Buddy Miller - Poison Love
One of the many good things about Buddy Miller is that, for someone who does high lonesome so well (albeit not in the 'true' bluegrass sense), he clearly doesn't take himself too seriously, and indeed has a habit of making his more rollicking numbers genuine highlights of his records along with the more yearning tunes that make up much of his songbook; on Poison Love, first song "Nothing Can Stop Me" is a case in point - it brings a smile to my face.
Also, not to get too schmaltzy, but he and wife Julie sure are lucky that as well as being romantic partners - and, going by a piece I read about them in a No Depression anthology a while back, deeply so - their voices, and their musical styles more generally, mesh so perfectly, shown off particularly on this one on the gorgeous "100 Million Little Bombs".
Anyway, for those and many other reasons, this is great.
Also, not to get too schmaltzy, but he and wife Julie sure are lucky that as well as being romantic partners - and, going by a piece I read about them in a No Depression anthology a while back, deeply so - their voices, and their musical styles more generally, mesh so perfectly, shown off particularly on this one on the gorgeous "100 Million Little Bombs".
Anyway, for those and many other reasons, this is great.
MV & EE - Space Homestead
Spacy, psychedelic americana-rock sprawlers, harmonica and all. For the most part, more about texture than hooks, though the guitars on "Too Far To See" set it apart.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
"How to give it a name": Jen Cloher - In Blood Memory
So it's unsurprising that In Blood Memory is excellent, seeing as how both Dead Wood Falls and Hidden Hands were both so extremely good - the second of those, in particular, really hit me between the eyes and became quite a meaningful one for me (eg).
A few things about it. For one, overall it has a bit more of a rock feel - on the excellent "Toothless Tiger", say, coming on all Velvet Underground - and it works. For seconds, there are a lot of musical references scattered throughout, from the overtness of "David Bowie Eyes" (with its roll call of iconic outsiders - Morrison, Smith (Patti), Bowie, the Pixies, Kurt & Courtney) to at least a couple of lyrical quotations (Bowie again on the "ch-ch-ch-change me" of highlight "Name in Lights", Cohen's "love is not a victory march") - but in a way that feels natural, an outgrowth of Cloher's love of pop music, rather than in any way programmatic. And it's also a completely unpretentious record, built on what are, in a lot of ways, quite straight-up songs and arrangements, with no trickery to disguise any shortcomings that might have existed - just really well constructed and delivered tunes, from an artist of genuine talent and craft. A really good listen.
A few things about it. For one, overall it has a bit more of a rock feel - on the excellent "Toothless Tiger", say, coming on all Velvet Underground - and it works. For seconds, there are a lot of musical references scattered throughout, from the overtness of "David Bowie Eyes" (with its roll call of iconic outsiders - Morrison, Smith (Patti), Bowie, the Pixies, Kurt & Courtney) to at least a couple of lyrical quotations (Bowie again on the "ch-ch-ch-change me" of highlight "Name in Lights", Cohen's "love is not a victory march") - but in a way that feels natural, an outgrowth of Cloher's love of pop music, rather than in any way programmatic. And it's also a completely unpretentious record, built on what are, in a lot of ways, quite straight-up songs and arrangements, with no trickery to disguise any shortcomings that might have existed - just really well constructed and delivered tunes, from an artist of genuine talent and craft. A really good listen.
Saturday, June 08, 2013
Tuesday, June 04, 2013
The Place Beyond the Pines
A Very Serious Drama about fathers and sons and other familiar dramatic themes. I liked it in places (particularly the seedy-glamorous first bit - 80s-ish in cinematographic style and, I think, in setting - first bit when the focus was on Ryan Gosling's Luke) and thought it was pretty good overall if possibly slightly on the long side - albeit deliberately and structurally so.
(w/ Kai and Mehnaz)
* * *
Incidentally, while Pines was perhaps somewhat on the heavy side for a Sunday afternoon, it was a day to remind me why it's so grand living inner northside, and, for the last couple of years, specifically Carlton. Sleep-in then 5 minute stroll out to a nice brunch (Cafe Lua), hopping across the road to the Nova just in time for the film, and then afterwards another 5 minute walk (via King & Godfree) to visit P, house-sitting for a few days in J's apartment, to spend the rest of the afternoon eating cheese, killing a couple of bottles of prosecco and talkin' about life with her and D on the balcony, before a bite (and more wine) at Shakahari and then back home just a few minutes after finishing up there. Not to be taken for granted!
(w/ Kai and Mehnaz)
* * *
Incidentally, while Pines was perhaps somewhat on the heavy side for a Sunday afternoon, it was a day to remind me why it's so grand living inner northside, and, for the last couple of years, specifically Carlton. Sleep-in then 5 minute stroll out to a nice brunch (Cafe Lua), hopping across the road to the Nova just in time for the film, and then afterwards another 5 minute walk (via King & Godfree) to visit P, house-sitting for a few days in J's apartment, to spend the rest of the afternoon eating cheese, killing a couple of bottles of prosecco and talkin' about life with her and D on the balcony, before a bite (and more wine) at Shakahari and then back home just a few minutes after finishing up there. Not to be taken for granted!
Saturday, June 01, 2013
Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me
It's a good question, whether the mystique of Big Star has played any part in their becoming a touchstone for me - but I reckon not. Because what it's about for me is the sound - tender, ringing, fiery, there's just something about it.
Before watching this documentary (on at acmi), I was only vaguely aware of their troubled trajectory - the distribution and record label problems, Chris Bell's emotional disintegration and early death - and to be honest that back story doesn't at all romanticise the band for me (although who knows, possibly I'd cherish them less if, instead of only ever putting out those first two perfect records, #1 Record and Radio City, and then the clearly falling apart but intermittently brilliant Third/Sisters Lovers, they'd gone on to have a U2-esque decade-spanning stadium career). What remains is still the songs - dazzlingly sharp, bright moments like "September Gurls" and "The Ballad of El Goodo", "Back of a Car" and "Daisy Glaze", along with the hauntedness of Third cuts like "Kangaroo" - and the feeling.
Anyhow, Nothing Can Hurt Me was nice - I'm not normally one for music documentaries (documentaries of any kind, for that matter), but I was in the mood, and it left me with a warm feeling about the band's music. Afterwards, waiting for a friend, I stood out in the rain - this morning, I read that it turned into Melbourne's biggest storm in years - looking up at the Federation Square lights; lightning flashed every few minutes, I felt at once disconnected and still.
Before watching this documentary (on at acmi), I was only vaguely aware of their troubled trajectory - the distribution and record label problems, Chris Bell's emotional disintegration and early death - and to be honest that back story doesn't at all romanticise the band for me (although who knows, possibly I'd cherish them less if, instead of only ever putting out those first two perfect records, #1 Record and Radio City, and then the clearly falling apart but intermittently brilliant Third/Sisters Lovers, they'd gone on to have a U2-esque decade-spanning stadium career). What remains is still the songs - dazzlingly sharp, bright moments like "September Gurls" and "The Ballad of El Goodo", "Back of a Car" and "Daisy Glaze", along with the hauntedness of Third cuts like "Kangaroo" - and the feeling.
Anyhow, Nothing Can Hurt Me was nice - I'm not normally one for music documentaries (documentaries of any kind, for that matter), but I was in the mood, and it left me with a warm feeling about the band's music. Afterwards, waiting for a friend, I stood out in the rain - this morning, I read that it turned into Melbourne's biggest storm in years - looking up at the Federation Square lights; lightning flashed every few minutes, I felt at once disconnected and still.
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