Music videos that got me high this week

This is currently my ultimate playlist for starting Saturday night:

MSTRKRFT – Featuring John Legend from vincent haycock on Vimeo.

Hard to Swallow

Another great treasure from the archives - someone shuold really put this on YouTube to get it more exposure.

MyMovie MashUp Short Film Entry

A Shaded View on Fashion Film

Following on from my article on Diane Pernet earlier this year, I attended her Fashion Film festival yesterday, catching the Competition sections entitled 'Reflection' and 'Communication'. The festival aims to showcase moving image works featuring fashion, a domain so traditionally associated with the still image. I think it's a great idea and I saw some massively inspiring clips. Below are some of my favourites and you can read more about the festival here.

Way Too Blue - Pelican Video

This blew me away - takes fashion advertising to a whole new level, although I wish I could have appreciated it when it came out (05/06) and the track wasn't overplayed!



Gareth Pugh AW09 - Ruth Hogben

This is what happens when 2 immensely talented creators join forces - astounding, especially at 6:40.



Mareunol's Nightmares

This struck a chord - love the girl hanging on the washing line.

Flora Gucci - Chris Cunningham

Was a bit disappointed to realise that this was an ad at the end! But Chris Cunningham strikes gold again.



Making of



Le Coq Sportif - Born to Film

Alas this isn't available to embed but you can watch it here. It was less the video than the incredible music that enchanted me here. The track (Boxon Say Hello by Eclier) is available to hear on Spotify.

Finally I was dazzled by "Chapter 12: Velvet Revolution" by Andrea Splisgar - it was premiered at the festival and unsurprisingly isn't available online yet but as soon as it is, I'll let you know.

Looking forward to the Award Ceremony at the Pompidou Centre now on October 8th...

About Elly

Last night I went to see this rather good Iranian film.

Incidentally, with that little phrase I am excited to possibly announce the beginning of a new era of good international cinema, which should usher out the strange urges I've had to see American toss recently.

I don't think I would have plumped for it had I not seen the trailer a coupe of weeks earlier, and observed that it looked like a pretty interesting thriller. I've been telling myself to check out some Iranian cinema for a while, and this seemed like a good starting point.

The below review may contain some plot spoilers, although nothing will be revealed that you can't already gauge from the trailer, and I won't reveal the end, of course.

At the time of writing, no UK distributor has picked it up, so any UK readers may well forget anything I reveal by the time it comes out on DVD.

So the story begins with a large group of couples (4, I think), plus some small children, arriving at a remote beach cottage where they plan to spend the weekend. Aside from the couples, there are 2 single people there - the rather dishy Ahmad, and Elly, the tutor of key character Sepideh's children. It turns out that following Ahmad's divorce, Sepideh is keen to set them up.

Everything is going well until the following day Elly confirms that she was only able to stay one night and needs to leave. But Sepideh implores her to stay. Before Elly's proposed departure, she is asked to keep an eye on the children for a little while. Suddenly one child runs over to the parents, very distressed, and shouting her brother's name. He is in the sea and in danger. Thus ensues a mad dash to rescue him. As soon as they have pulled him out of the water they realise that Elly was supposed to be watching the children, and she too is missing. The rest of the film revolves around trying to figure out what happened to Elly - is she in the water or could she have left without telling anyone? A web of intrigue ensues.

It's a fairly classic thriller narrative but I really enjoyed watching it play out in unfamiliar territory. I've never really seen Iran on screen, except in the news. It interested me to see that while some features were unexpectedly western (our key characters are all very pleasing to the eye), and others more predictably Iranian, they didn't shy away from some uncomfortable situations and, dare I say it, stereotypes - for example, two of the women are at different points humiliated by their husbands (indeed, the likeable Sepideh is physically attacked) in front of their friends. I might have expected that a film with international ambitions would attempt to dispel this myth about a husband's dominance over his wife in Iran. Furthermore, Sepideh's abusive husband looks considerably older than her which raises some eyebrows about how on earth she may have ended up with him.

All in all I really enjoyed the film - for the first time in a while I didn't feel the 2 hours drag - and I'm recommending it. A deserved winner of the Silver Bear at Berlin this year - I hope it can translate festival success into a healthy international audience (hmm).

Les Regrets

I had been secretly looking forward to this film for a while: I'd enjoyed Yvan Attal in 'Ma femme est une actrice' and Valeria Bruni-Tedeschi in '5x2' and I don't mind a decent romantic drama from time to time. So I ended up going to see it with a friend last night, the opening night.

In French there is the perfect word to describe this film - 'bof'. It's an expression of indifference - a bit like saying 'whatever', but not quite.

So the gist is Mathieu (Attal) spots Maya (Bruni-T) from across the street one day. Evidently they know each other. She sees him, doesn't speak to him but ends up inviting him over for a glass of wine. And so, predictably, despite them both being married, begins their affair.

But at every critical turn of the relationship, we have a nice cliched 'volte-face'('about face') where the character leaves the other one and you think it's all over, then halfway down the road they turn around and go back for a passionate clinch.

Lots of sex, as you'd expect from the director of L'Ennui which I saw a while back.

One of the most interesting things about this film was the way it dealt with modern communication - namely, text messages. There was some very classic and European about this film - by which I'm referring to the way that such films are often hard to date, as if they are removed from a time frame. Yet so often contemporary films fail to acknowledge the role of modern communication in our lives: pretty much everyone texts, and emails, and yet we rarely see it on screen. Texts particularly can be so instrumental in the development of a liaison or reltaionship, and yet we just seem to be ignoring them! Maybe LCD screens just aren't sexy enough?

Anyway in this film I was pleasantly startled to see that when the recipient was reading his/her text, we heard a voiceover from the sender. It was a really small thing, but it really stood out, and I liked it. Indeed we did view a screen from time to time, but the voiceover helps to mix it up.

It's very European-naturalistic - very little make-up, lots of tortured faces - both the lead actors look about 10 years older than in the films I mentioned in the first paragraph. But even the direction continues the naturalism with lots of those scenes that are redundant narratively, but help to set the scene. We also avoid confrontation scenes, like the one between Mathieu and his wife which we feel we are building up to. But i like that. Not giving us exactly what we want and expect.

There's nothing remarlable in the plot. I think the title pretty much give it all away. It was an entertaining little ride, but I'm not going to be shouting about it from the rooftops. Perhaps it's for the best that it doesn't look like it's going to make it to anglophone shores any time soon.

Unlimited cinema

About 3 weeks ago now, I finally invested in the unlimited UGC card. For a one-off fee of 30euros, then 19.80 per month, I can now see as many films as I like at UGC/MK2 (chain) cinemas and a selection of independent cinemas in France (and even abroad, where there is a UGC chain) with no restrictions whatsoever. 19.80 is practially nothing for someone like me who can go to the cinema 2 times a week with ease. I don't know how many other countries this exists in, but it doesn't surprise me that France makes the effort to make as much cinema accessible to as many as possible.

But typically, as soon as I get it, I survey the cinematic landscape and realise that there is practially bugger-all interesting on at the moment. I'm hoping tha tit's going to pick up soon though.

In the interest of making this blog more visual, here is a UGC card.

J'attendrai le suivant

I'm obsessed with this short film at the moment:

The Hangover

I indulged in a little guilty pleasure the other night and went to see ‘The Hangover’. (Incidentally they’ve ‘translated’ this title into French as ‘Very Bad Trip’). Seeing this kind of film is typically associated with feelings of guilt that I’m actively choosing to rot my brain and support Hollywood’s retardization of the masses, but actually I felt pretty good when I left. I actually only ended up seeing it because ‘Whatever Works’ was sold out, but I had been intrigued by stories of how this relatively low-budget film had absolutely cleaned up at the box office. I always love a cinematic underdog. Shamefully, my inner-ogler had also cried out that it needed feeding with some Bradley Cooper.

Overall ‘The Hangover’ is a thoroughly entertaining ride. The story centres on 4 guys – one a groom-to-be – who go on their stag night in Vegas, and wake up the next morning with no recollection of what happened. Their few clues include the fact that the groom is missing, there is a tiger in the bathroom, a baby in a cupboard and their hotel suite is turned upside down. We piece the night back together with them, including the theft of a police car, a Vegas marriage (between the most serious guy and a prostitute), a run-in at the hospital and a disastrous spell in the casino.

I might have concluded it entirely harmless if it were not for the jaw-dropping Chinese caricature in the shape of Ken Jeong as Mr Chow. His impossibly exaggerated gay mafia character provides a number of really wince-worthy moments. These are complemented by the grey area that concerns whether one of the party, Alan, is actually mentally retarded. It’s never quite established, but it doesn’t stop us enjoying some jokes at his expense, as well as wondering whether we’re allowed to laugh at some of Alan’s own jokes, such as when he gestures to make it look like the baby they’ve found is masturbating.

I’m starting to wonder where Heather Graham ends and her washed-up prostitute act begins. I once read that her parents haven’t spoken to her for some time as they don’t agree with the roles she chooses to play. Indeed, one of her most famous earlier roles was as the risqué Rollergirl in the fantastic Boogie Nights, a film about the porn industry where she played once of its ditzy stars. But since then we’ve rarely seen her in a role that hasn’t played out to a male fantasy in some respect – be it Felicity Shagwell in Austin Powers (yes I know it’s tongue in cheek), or the gross-out scatology-fest Baby on Board. Here she plays a beyond-dumb stripper/prostitute (she explain with wide eyes that stripping helps her to get the clients) whose shining moment comes when she gets her boobs out to breastfeed her baby. She’s 39 now and I’m wondering whether she needs to think about changing this act. I don’t even want to get into the significance of the fact that the guy who marries the stripper has a long-term nagging girlfriend at home, who he eventually humiliates at a wedding before dumping her, by which point he has already arranged to see Graham’s character (who he has accidentally married) again – ballbreaker/prostitute, bitch/ditz?

A relatively low-budget surprise success (cost $35m, gross as of 30/08/09 $417m) I’m wondering if this film slipped quietly past the censors as the photos of the stag night which are interspersed with the credits at the end are really pretty shocking – funny, but shocking – including such treasures as one of the party getting a blow job. They are very lo-fi and certainly reveal the film’s low budget, but as you watch them you realise how much of a blast the crew must have had making this, and as long as we’ve enjoyed watching it, then everything’s OK.

Pro or Anti-Christ?

Last weekend I popped back to England, where the prep for Antichrist's release (today) was in full force. It's interesting that more than one publication seems to have decided that they're not sure if they can rely on their own critic's judgement, and have hence consulted an array of diverse 'consultants' from across the arts to have their say (Guardian, Time Out).

A notable exception to this trend is the famous Daily Mail, whose criticism of the film nearly had me laugh out loud. For anyone outside of the UK, this newspaper, in my opinion, is our most abhorrent publication - a national embarrassment which is more deplorable than any of the red top press purely because of its hypocrisy. The DM pretend to be a bastion of middle class morality, while at the same time being so surreptitiously right wing, misogynistic, xenophobic (I stopped short of racist), self-righteous and outrageously antagonistic that it makes my blood boil. The worst thing is that a large section of the middle class are oblivious to this, and see it as a nice middle of the road paper somewhere between the broadsheet and the tabloid.

Anyway, the point of the matter is that their self-proclaimed 'liberal' film critic Christopher Hart has proposed a new genre of film criticism where you review a film without having seen it. Quote:

I haven't seen it myself, nor shall I - and I speak as a broad-minded arts critic, strongly libertarian in tendency. But merely reading about Antichrist is stomach-turning, and enough to form a judgment.

Maybe more critics should take note of this great time saver - why bother seeing any source material when you can just judge a piece of art from reading about it?

However, it looks like Hart may have risen to the bait as proffered by Artificial Eye's PR company who seem to be plumbing new depths of promotion tactics with their lowest common denominator press release.

I feel a bit sad that an independent distributor who prides itself on offering films of quality would then market such a film in such an unashamedly populist way. It goes without saying that I want as many people to see great cinema as possible, but this kind of marketing is surely only going to attract the wrong crowd. Antichrist isn't a gory, voyeuristic thriller - it's an art film that is surely going to disappoint a large number of people who are attracted purely by the controversy.

Anyway if it wins some converts to the goodness of European cinema, I'm all for it. I just wish the means didn't leave such a bad taste in my mouth.

Lethargy

I've not posted for a while because frankly I haven't seen anything good. I was beginning to worry that I was slipping back into my literature phase - I used to have a steady cycle of about 3 months heavily into cinema, 3 months heavily into books, quite organically, although I've been entrenched in cinema for an extended period now. Let's have a quick rundown of what produced this state of mind:

Jeux d'enfants - I should have known better but in the interests of immersing myself in my new homeland's culture, I decided to try and understand the fuss about Guillaume Canet. A little part of me was also intrigued about seeing the chemistry between Marion Cotillard and Canet, who met during the making of this film. I lasted about 20 minutes, and would have lasted even less if I hadn't been watching it with someone who looked like he was enjoying it. It was a very sugary production, whose target market I couldn't quite identify. It felt like a kids' film (lots of toys and saturation), yet had an adult edge. It was frankly tedious.

Lost in Translation - This was my second viewing, prompted after reading one too many posts on the Auteurs about its greatness. My first viewing had left me a bit emotionless, but I put this down to seeing it after the hype had spun out of control. However, on a second viewing, I didn't really connect with it any further, which is a shame because the eloquence and simplicity of its simple story and emphasis on human relationships should have pushed all the right buttons with me. Instead I couldn't stop thinking the following:
-The 'husband' was just a massive caricature whose scenes really interrupted the flow of the movie, removing it from any realism she'd established elsewhere.
-Murray's character's incessant irony and sarcasm threatened to drive me up the wall. I also felt that it made a real insensitive mockery of the Japanese, portraying them as rather stupid, which irritated me. Not that I have any special sympathies with them, but I just thought that for a film about human understanding, this aspect really jarred.
- The dumb blonde friend character (allegedly based on Cameron Diaz due to Coppola's irritation at then partner Jonze's friendship with her) is too caricatured to deserve a mention really, but again, she really spoiled the rhythm and helped to make the two main characters seem just a little too smug and self-satisfied in their condescension of her.

I want to like Sofia Coppola's work - but I fear that Marie Antoinette might finish me off, although I may revisit The Virgin Suicides which charmed me the first time.

Kramer vs Kramer - This is not a bad film, but I felt like I'd seen it 100 times before. That is not the fault of the film - I think it's been copied 100 times since, and obviously at the time, when divorce was starting to become more common, it would have been very reflective of the era. Although even now, the idea of a woman leaving her child is still a bit taboo, which still gives it relevance. Everyone involved gives good performances, I guess I just wanted more from the plot. The idea of the father surprsingly bonding with the son just feels a bit hackneyed now.

On another note, I couldn't believe how much a young Meryl Streep resembles Jewel Kilcher.

Dazed and Confused - Had this down to watch for a while. Linklater's Before Sunrise/set are two of my favourite films ever, but I struggle to engage with much of his other work. He is very diverse, but I sometimes feel that, for however much Sunrise/set spoke to me, much of his work is targeted at teenage boys. Dazed and Confused frankly bored me. I don't mind the odd good high school movie - Mean Girls, Heathers, Ferris Bueller etc - but this film just never seemed to get going. I've read about how the strength of the ensemble cast in this film really caries it, yet hardly any of the characters were memorable for me. The only one of note was Pink, whose cheating kiss towards the end of the film seemed to run contrary to the idea that he was our good guy. There were some entertaining moments, but there just seemed to be a distinct lack of depth - of character and plot - and I found myself tapping my feet waiting for the end. Quite entertaining to see the early work of a few famous faces, not least Matthew McConaughey. Rumour has it that Linklater is plotting a sequel, and McConaughey is among those interested in reprising their roles.



Abre los Ojos - Again another one that had been gathering dust on my shelf. This is the famous supposed 'better' original version of Vanilla Sky. In fairness I've only watched half of it, and I will go back and finish it at some point, but so far it's not doing much for me.

Baise-moi - What was I thinking? For a good few years I lumped this together with 'Irreversible' - I'd seen neither but knew they were big French violent-sex-shock fests. I watched the latter about 3 years back and actually found it very interesting. But Baise-moi?! How did this ever get a release? The quality of the video is diabolical (it was clearly shot on video), before we get anywhere near the narrative, script and acting. I actually only lasted about 20 minutes before I jumped through and watched 5 minutes every 30 minutes or so until I just gave up. Everything about this is bad bad bad, the word that best describes this is a French one and it's 'pourri'.

28 Days Later - This film just reminded me of how much I don't like sci-fi and zombie movies. It reminded me of Children of Men which bored me. I was willing the end on far too early. But I know I'm not immune to the effects of sci-fi, as proved when I watched Minority Report the other day, followed it all the way through (I even surprised myself) and properly got into it.

Sorry I feel like this post is compete devoid of energy - it's just the reactions that these films inspire in me. I will be back with some good energised commentary soon.

Finally, Cannes

So, 2009 was my first Cannes. I’d implored a previous boss to take me the 3 previous years, but somehow, despite pledges to the contrary, I was never taken, nor allowed out of the office to go of my own accord (grr). This year it seemed to come as easy as pie. I’m working freelance as the Head of Distribution and Marketing at a small Production/Distribution house in Paris, and had the fortune to have a boss and colleague who are both from Cannes and saw it as completely natural to take me there. This not only facilitated free accommodation in a fabulous Cannes apartment overlooking the sea but access to tickets I would never otherwise have got near. A case in point, the first night:

The train journey from Paris was not a short one (5 hours) but I entertained myself with Frost/Nixon and various magazines about Cannes, both trade (Screen International) and consumer (The Inrockuptibles). All talk appeared to centre around Pedro Almodovar – it surely being his year for the Palme - which is interesting because that certainly wasn’t the word on the Croisette when I got there.

On arrival my colleague met me at the station and said I had 15 minutes to get ready to go and see a film. Knowing absolutely nothing about how Cannes works, apart from having begged people for tickets for my previous boss from our London office, the possibility of me getting to see any film without a struggle seemed magical. But when she told me it was the evening performance of von Trier’s Antichrist, and that I should dress for the red carpet immediately I was pretty flabbergasted. I know that Cannes should really be about the films, but even the most hardened industry professional can surely not help be excited by the glamour.

So, sure enough I got the dress and heels on and we rushed down to the Palais which is where everything goes on. I was a bit startled to have my photograph taken about 50 times by different photographers – alas it was not for my fame and beauty, but rather so they could give me a card in the hope that I’d pop to their boutique to next day and purchase the photo at an obscene price.

Amidst all the photographing and queuing a British voice caught my attention – an older guy with a younger girl asked me if I’d like to go to the Slumdog Millionaire party. Just as I was picking my jaw up off the floor he said that he’d been invited and asked to bring three girls with him (perhaps an eyebrow raising moment). As such that ruled us out because I was with 2 friends of my own. Plus, I was damn excited about seeing Antichrist and I didn’t know how many more chances I’d get.

In retrospect I’m sure I made the right choice. I’d read little about the film but seen the notorious still. The opening was blinding: we see a naked Charlotte Gainsbourg and Willem Dafoe going for it in the shower, in exquisitely lit black and white and dazzling slow motion. We do indeed see a penis thrust (although all the intimate scenes were substituted with shots of porn actors, or plastic models, the importance of which will become apparent) but it’s entirely appropriate for how heated this scene is. Amid the multiple close-ups of her face (indeed the main characters don’t get names) we see their little boy wandering from his playpen, eventually climbing up onto a windowsill from which he falls – again in slowmotion – to his death. This is our prologue – the rest of the film deals with the three phases of grief his parents pass through.


While watching this I momentarily forgot that I was watching a feature film. It felt either like a short (cf this) or an advert. My first thought was whether Lars was scouting for some work in commercials in case his features wouldn’t pay the bills. In fact the debate about whether anyone would make any sales of Antichrist raged throughout the rest of the festival.

Back to the grief, it is more appropriate to refer to them as phases which his mother passes through. Dafoe plays the father who is in fact a therapist. His wife then becomes his patient, while he appears, sporadically to her frustration, to be rather immune to the grieving process. She, meanwhile, essentially starts to lose her mind. Under interrogation, she explains that the forest where she spent some time with their lost son is the place that creates the most fear in her. Consequently, in the tradition of exposure therapy, her husband suggests they both return there to face her fear.

I was with the narrative all the way until we met the talking fox, which couldn’t help but provoke laughs from the audience. This seemed to be the catalyst for the increasingly bizarre series of events which ensue, each one upping the shock factor one level. As a sample (*spoilers) between one of their recurrent sexual acts, she reaches for a brick and smashes it into his groin, presenting us with a rather morbid view of him ejaculating blood. While he lies prostate she takes the opportunity to drill through his calf and clamp a concrete weight to his leg. A mere five minutes after this we have a graphic view of her performing a self-cliterectomy. I think you can tell that von Trier wrote this when he was depressed.

Gainsbourg gives us everything in this role – physically and emotionally – and I can see why she walked off with the Best Actress prize. That said, I do still find her, or at least her English accent, immensely irritating. I wasn’t really convinced by the union of her and Dafoe – they seemed to be from 2 completely different worlds and I couldn’t ever imagine how they got together or sustained a happy relationship. Although it was a largely enjoyable rollercoaster – a true cinematic experience – if not really a film I’d rush back to watch again. It felt longer than its 1h44m. I’m sure the film will do well thanks to the controversy – if not due to the film’s content, then at least due to Von Trier’s own antics, e.g. pronouncing himself the best director in the world at the press conference the following day. However how far he believes this, and how much of this is clever PR on his part, remains questionable – the big man was actually nowhere to be seen at the end of the screening at Cannes, having disappeared allegedly amid a fit of nerves, without telling anyone where he had gone.

We wrapped up the first night by popping next door to one of the festival’s official party venues – the dodgy-sounding ‘Jimmyz’ – which is also a casino. We wangled our way in through one of our party knowing someone on the door – my first taste of guest list blagging. I later found out that it was at (well, outside) Jimmyz that Vincent Cassel and Matthieu Kassovitz had a nasty spat last year when the latter couldn’t get in to join his supposed friend. I don’t know all the details but apparently it got very messy and included Kassovitz proclaiming ‘Qui t’as fait? Qui t’as fait?’ – asking Cassell who had ‘made him’, in a reference to the film ‘La Haine’, directed by Kassovitz which did indeed catapult his actor into the limelight. Apparently they haven’t spoken since.

Jimmyz certainly looked like Cannes as I’d imagined it. Free champagne was in full flow at the bar, everyone was beautiful in black tie, the lights were dimmed and frankly I couldn’t believe my luck. Regrettably my girlfriends were rather Cannes-weary after partying hardcore for nearly a week already, so I had to take to the dancefloor on my own before we left after about an hour.

I awoke at my friend’s the next morning and after some faffing and moving of apartments (over to my boss’s apartment on the other side of town) I headed down to the festival to collect the cherished festival bag (a rather disappointing grey design this year) and programmes, and take a tour of the market. I’ve seen film markets before, in my previous role at a short film festival/distributor I even stood on a stand at the largest short film festival, Clermont-Ferrand. But I didn’t expect the feature market to be so similar. The first thing that strikes you is just how global it is, with stands form every corner of the world, and how many films are being promoted that you would never ever get the chance to see (luckily, in many cases I think). It makes you realise that just because you read your Screen International and other trades, and you keep up to date on the latest releases perhaps in Europe and the US, it doesn’t mean that you understand the global market. There is a huge industry operating beyond your viewpoint. There is also a huge straight-to-DVD market whose titles I look at and wonder who on earth buys them without the PR to convince them. There is something a bit desperate about the market. It’s mostly distributors standing on stands waiting for the elusive buyers to come round and look at their wares. But I suspect that a large proportion of their visits are from people who would be completely useless to them, but to whom they have to give the time of day nonetheless. Also, most medium-to-big players are not located in the market, but in hotels elsewhere along the Croisette. I would have loved to visit the Weinstein’s suite but frankly didn’t have the guts to go there without a good reason. I already popped into that of Celluloid Dreams, having provisionally arranged a meeting with one of their staff who works on The Auteurs, only to be looked down at and told there was no remaining room in his schedule. Note to self – grow a thicker skin.

I popped in to see a friend who was also enjoying his first Cannes, with 95% of it spent in the press office. He too had been there since the beginning and despite not having seen a single film he was visibly exhausted. He was looking after a really interesting catalogue of films and remembering that I write the odd bit of film criticism for an online magazine, I suggested he throw any screenings my way if he wanted some extra exposure. Hence he arranged for me to see one of the films he was representing that afternoon, to be followed by an interview with the director the following day. The film was to be ‘A Brand New Life’, a Franco-Korean production directed by Ourie Lecomte.

Before the screening I popped into the UK Film Council stand – most countries have an individual stand and I found myself undecided about whether I belonged in the French or British one. Eventually practicality won over since the latter was closer to the centre. You can buy disgusting overpriced sandwiches in your stand (I did it only once) and there is a steady programme of events. At the UKFC I met up with my friend Steve and his business partner Tom. Steve is a former BBC producer who has recently joined the freelance ranks although he’s been developing projects for some time, and subject to getting some sponsorship, should be starting a course in directing actors at the CSSD this year. A former colleague and good friend is his housemate and from the tales I’ve heard through her, this is one dynamic guy. It did not surprise me therefore to find that he had signed up to a pitching competition that was due to take place shortly, where they would pitch to industry professionals in 3 minutes with the possibility of getting some funding, as I recall. They have a project in the pipeline with Les Dennis signed up to play a failed comedian. Alas I couldn’t watch the pitch as I had to go to a screening, but although they didn’t win they generated a lot of interest. I think these boys are a team to watch out for – this is their website.

A Brand New Life was a special screening – out of competition, presented by Les Chang-Dong. It’s a quasi-autobiographical tale from an ex-Femis graduate who was taken to an orphanage by her father at a young age, and eventually resettled with a French family. The film follows a young girl – an outstanding performance from first time actress Ah-sung Ko - as she adjusts to orphanage life, making and losing friends, until she eventually embarks on her own new life. I found it very touching and it was clearly a very personal project, which made me wonder what scope it would have to be seen outside festivals. It will be interesting to see.


Tuesday’s evening began with drinks on the balcony of friend Romain who rented an apartment every year on the Croisette with a fantastic view of the sea. A quick glass of wine steeled me for a ridiculously long walk (why didn’t we take a taxi?) to the Palais, in heels (I would pay for that later), to catch the late screening of the Italian ‘Vincere’ (‘To Win’). I was very interested to see what this Celluloid Dreams co-production would offer and as I expected, it was a heavyweight high production value European big hitter. The story centres on Ida Dalser – mistress of Mussolini and mother of his son – who he tries to cut out of his life after his rise to power. Despite his best efforts, including locking her up in an asylum, she fights back all the way. Her suffering is very moving – this is a woman who sold all her possessions at the beginning of their relationship so he could put the money into launching a newspaper to propound his ideas. You can see that she loves him until the very end and that tension between love and anger is terrible. Both the lead performances are very strong – Filippo Timi bears a striking resemblance to Mussolini and plays up to this strength.


Following Antichrist, this was another film with an inordinate amount of sex in it. I don’t think I’m being hypersensitive but I couldn’t help but notice how much the presentation focussed on the orgasmic face of the woman certainly more than 50% of the time. This applied to both Antichrist and Vinchere. Our male leads were capable of bringing their partners extraordinary amounts of pleasure with incredible ease. But it certainly made me wonder to what extent this was an extension of the power of the director. It’s not an original theory – Laura Mulvey started it back in the 70s – but I think it’s interesting to look at again since the boundaries of explicitness have relaxed somewhat since then, and to consider what is respectable and what is gratuitous. The arthouse is often given ‘carte blanche’ with regards to its presentation of sex, but it doesn’t mean that it’s just. Put it this way, I came out of Vinchere convinced that my next short film will film a couple having sex, with my camera’s gaze never diverting from the male’s face.

After Vincere we popped over to catch the end of the CNC party (the Centre National Cinematographique, the French national film funding body). Just as we entered I caught sight of my first ever employer in the film world (I use the word employer lightly since I was an unpaid intern). I can’t name him but I will say that he was a pretty big prick to me, although I’ve crossed paths with him in Soho on a number of occasions and have always emailed to congratulate him when I saw any of his films do well. He was about to leave when I grabbed him to say hi and he looked more than a little surprised to see me. He introduced me to a woman who was draped on his arm who drunkenly said hello, before shuffling off rather sheepishly, much to my amusement. C’est Cannes ça!

Wednesday brought me another meeting with my most recent former employer which was somewhat less drunken over a couple of soft drinks in the market café. This was nice as we haven’t really chatted properly since I left last summer and he was very honest about how the business is going (I already know a lot through a very close friend who still works there). My replacement recently bit the dust, for example. He also asked if I’d be interested in doing some work with them for the French franchise, which I’m mulling over. This was a role that I was immensely passionate about until very circumstances led me to resign, so it feels a bit like I’m considering getting back with an old boyfriend – which 9 times out of 10 is a bad idea. I spent at least another hour in the market café poring over the market brochures and plotting an assault on US distributors which the feature film I’m working on in Paris. We already have a Canadian distributor which is great – before you have any distributor you are really in the wilderness – but we obviously want as many as possible. My boss had already emailed a large number of NYC based distributors earlier in the year – our feature is an ‘anthology’ made up of short films à la Paris je t’aime, although these weren’t commissioned, and hence it’s definitely on the independent side of things which is much more an East Coast project than a West Coast one. In cross-referencing her list with the market guide, I found that only 2 distributors had a presence at Cannes. That’s the recession for you. I looked through the rest of the US distributors and handpicked some that I thought had an international and/or independent profile, and proceeded to visit their stands and try and flog our wares. It really feels like I could have been selling double glazing – it’s all cold pitching – but I did get at least one promising lead, which if it works out, is all I needed.

My press office friend recommended I see another of his films ‘Daniel y Ana’ which is supposed to be pretty shocking but very good. He sent me to a cinema in the middle of nowhere for it, which took me an hour to find by foot, with a couple of accidental diversions. When I finally got there, it had already started and was full. I implored the guy to let me sit on the steps and he agreed. All I knew was that Daniel y Ana involved the kidnapping of a child. As I sat down, the story showed a gypsy woman who found a little girl alone in a park and not knowing what else to do, took her in. She then found a note in the girl’s pocket asking for her to be looked after until her mum could collect her – hence our gypsy woman decided not to go to the police. After about half an hour I began to wonder where Daniel was and to wonder whether this was the right film. I was definitely at the right place at the right time, but it turned out that my friend had given me the wrong day! The film I watched was ‘La Pivellina’ ('The Little One') – from the Director’s Fortnight. Fiction with the feel of a documentary, it charted the couple of weeks that the gypsy family look after this little girl until they have to give her back. The dogme approach produced some lvely moments especially with the little girl who seemed entirely oblivious to the camera and crew. It’s another film that must not have a hope of finding a market, although it has won some awards. I found it touching but tedious in parts.


Only 3 days in I was starting to feel somewhat malnourished and was craving a steak Roquefort – cooked food had been a rarity even in Paris ever since our oven and hob had broken a month previously. I treated myself to a steak gorgonzola before rejoining ex-boss who introduced me to Sally Hussey who produced a short in the Critics Week selection, runs the Fall Festival in Australia, and is seriously contemplating a move to Paris. We rejoined her team at a bar, where I also met her ex-con lead actor who was an refreshing, if slightly unnerving breath of fresh air from industry bods. I also caught up with my friend Chris who is a journalist for IGN.com and while Sally and her crew went off to a party which they didn’t have extra invites to, Chris and I joined his journo mates at the Grand hotel. Thus began a ridiculous night of venue hopping to try and get into an interesting party. At one point he saw Eli Roth who is apparently a good friend, who also had an allegedly undesirable girl draped on his arm and was heading home. So much for getting into the Inglorious Basterds party. At one point we went back to Chris’ place before he got a call from his co-renter, Charles, critic for Heat Magazine, who said he was at a party on the top floor of The Baron hotel. At 4am we got up to go to this party, only to engage in a ridiculous game to try and get to the top floor of the Baron. You had to have a pass to use the lift but luckily we got in with someone who had one. However, we got only go up to the penultimate floor and then couldn’t find a way to the top floor. We went back down and tried again but the 3 people who were in the lift were interrogating us about where we were going. They got out at the third floor, as if to swap lifts, suggesting that they were going up to the top and didn’t want to take us freeloaders with them. That was probably the most degrading point of the festival for me although I was entertained when 5 minutes later we came back down and they tried to get back into the lift – it looks like they didn’t have any more access than we did which made me laugh. I was imploring Chris to drop it at this point – he couldn’t reach Charles on his mobile, but finally the latter called him to say that he’d left half an hour before. I ended up spending €20 on a vodka lemonade and an apple juice but luckily the music was quite good so I didn’t feel like we’d entirely wasted our time. We crashed at Chris’ at about 6am and I got up at 8 to go to a short film breakfast…

I don’t know what had happened exactly but it appeared that my boss had RSVPd for the wrong day for the short film breakfast. Consequently they kept me and about 10 others ‘not on the list’ outside the venue in the glaring sun, waiting for over an hour for news on whether there was space. I was absolutely fuming. This was short film for God’s sake, not some super exclusive feature party. Meanwhile, friends etc. who were not on the list were going straight in. While I’m in short film rant mode let’s take a moment to look at the short film scene at Cannes.

For those who don’t know festivals – they are usually composed of two parts, the competition and the market. The competition refers to a certain number of films that have been handpicked from submissions (or found at other festivals) to compete against one another and be judged by an industry jury. There will usually be a number of different competition selections – typically a national and an international one. Cannes has it’s own Official Selection competition, as well as the Un Certain Regard selection, and then it has two parallel selections that run alongside ‘The Director’s Fortnight'and ‘Critics’ Week’. Each section (excluding Un Certain Regard) has a selection of shorts and features. For features there is also the 'out of competition' selection, the special screenings, midnight screenings, Cannes Classics and Cinema de la Plage (on the beach). The shorts also has a selection called the ‘Cinefondation’ where a number of film school films are selected and their directors are invited to a training programme during the festival. It took me about a week to get my head around all this.

Meanwhile, the market is open to anyone and everyone who can pay to put their film in it – again this applies to both shorts and features. Feature market and press screenings run most days and you can often get in to these with your accreditation. A feature market accreditation runs into the hundreds of pounds. A short film one meanwhile costs about €95 I think. This makes it the cheapest possible accreditation you can get – cheaper than a standard festival accreditation. As people have latched onto this, the number of films in the market has rocketed year on year, with many films being complete rubbish, and used as a tool to get an accreditation. Here are the problems this causes:

• The short film market is so vast that it’s impossible to navigate and find good quality films
• Accreditation is promoted to directors as something of privilege – directors can use the Cannes logo on their film’s promotional material etc – but it means absolutely nothing since no-one has verified the quality of their film at any stage.
• The actual film selections are generally done by people experienced in feature programming, which tends to result in a very conformist and dull selection with most films resembling calling cards for feature work rather than being quality short films in their own right.
• Other programmes are available to watch in the short film corner from selected distributors/film schools etc – but these have all been paid for, and again, not verified for quality.
• To be fair, they employ a certain Danny Lennon, founder of Prends ca court!, to plough through all the submissions (all of them, really?) and make some themed selections. From what I observed he opted for rather crowd-pleasing selections, with comedy taking priority over quality.

The 'short film corner’ as it’s called is a big cash cow for the festival, but I can’t help but feel it’s also the elephant in the room. I have absolutely no respect for it and I don’t know how much respect the festival has for it either – their promotional material is dreadful (last year’s identity had captions all over it exclaiming ‘short is cool’, ‘short is more’, ‘short is best’…) and the staff are largely interns (hence a lot of the confusion over the short film breakfast since there were no decision-makers available to resolve the problems).

Of the films in the official competition, only one even made me tick remotely – ‘The 6 dollar fifty man’, which went on to win a key prize, though not the Palme. That went to a South American guy who I’d seen drunk off his face in a corner of a bar two nights previously. I actually have photographic evidence of it! I spent around 3-4 hours watching films in the videothèque they have there – I did one two hour run that very afternoon, and I was given this as a luxury since the girl on the desk had been the one who wouldn’t let me in to the breakfast that morning. She told me that normally you’re only allowed half an hour which seems frankly insane – most Cinefondation films are at least that long.

After a catalogue collecting session where I was surprised to bump into another couple of people I’d crossed passed with in the short film world, from Belgium and Bulgaria respectively, I took a break in the UKFC stand before I would go to interview Ourie about A Brand New Life. Sitting down I was convinced I could see cherished Guardian critic Peter Bradshaw across the room so popped over to say hi and sure enough it was him. He also introduced me to two British friends of his who coincidentally live in Paris. We all swapped emails as I had to rush off and I also left with an invitation to the Palm Dog – the prize for the best dog of the festival as run by Toby Rose. Judged by a selection of pretty important critics this has become something of a cult – you can read about it here. I popped next door to the Korean stand where I interviewed Ourie with a freelance BBC reporter. It was a pretty frustrating interview as she answered in French, which I understood, but my co-interviewer didn’t, so we had to wait for a translation each time. I think I got about two of my ten questions in overall. I quite liked playing at being press for an hour.

Early evening I wandered past a section of the market I’d not yet broached – the boats. Various big hitters (I recall Arte among them) hire out big boats in the port and run their activities from there. Another classic example of the indistinguishable line between business and pleasure at Cannes. After far too much effort I blagged my way into the Unifrance short film party where I met a few interesting people, until many of them left and I went over to the Kodak short film party at the Kodak Pavillion. It turned out that most of the Unifrance attendees had had the same idea and I found them all again here. Frankly I was pretty exhausted by this stage and had acquired a ticket for the Panique au Village screening that started at 1am. I chatted briefly to Elliot Grove, founder of Raindance and the BIFAs, and Rachael Millward, founder of Birds Eye View festival, when really I should have been chatting to people I didn’t yet know (!) before wrapping up to go and get an hour’s sleep.

I’ve been a big fan of the Panique au Village (A Town called Panic) short animated films which chart the antics of cowboy, horse and Indian for some time – we used to show them a lot in our festival which is how I procured an ‘orchestre’ ticket for the screening from the production team (orchestre is the stalls, which is where the most important players tend to sit – vs the balcony/circle). They did a great sendup of the red carpet by having one of the directors arrive on a tractor. The film was everything I expected it to be, and I was gutted that despite my hour’s nap and espresso, I couldn’t help but have a little nap in the middle. I was hoping that the editor’s brother who was sat next to me didn’t notice. On the plus side, I would definitely watch the film again and there will be something new for me to see the second time round… I really hope this gets a decent release and generates interest – it’s 5 years animation work which have made something super entertaining. Pixar have done a lot of work to increase the commercial profile of animation – their latest ‘Up’ was the first animation to ever open the festival – and I hope the Belgians will benefit. That evening was concluded by a fortuitous wangling into the official film after party at the Grand Hotel, followed by another club.


Goodness knows why I insisted on painting the town again that night because I had procured a ticket for the 8.30am screening of Terry Gilliam’s latest, ‘The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus’. The buzz about this film has centred on it being Heath Ledger’s last – he died mid-shoot. In fact my aforementioned friend Chris interviewed him on the set a few days before his death, and said that he was clearly rather out of it then. The film itself is like a trip in Gilliam’s own unbounded imagination, fusing cinema and theatre through the performances of Dr Parnassus and his team on their travelling stage. Audience members are invited to participate and then go through a mirror enter the Imaginarium where they will find all sorts of wonderful and weird things which don’t make sense. Lily Cole makes her acting debut as Valentina, the daughter of Parnassus who is longing for the ‘normal’ lifestyle she sees in the Argos catalogue but is distracted from this at least momentarily when they come across Ledger’s character, Tony, who they find hanging from a bridge (a bit too eerie, really). Like many things in the film, I didn’t quite understand the mechanics of this – it seemed to be part of a plot from an old arch enemy of Parnassus (Mr Nick played by Tom Waits) who was coming back to make trouble as Valentina’s 16th birthday approached, when it was planned that he would escort her to hell. Frankly I spent a lot of the film frustrated until I just let go and decide to appreciate the art direction, if nothing else. This is exquisite. Cole especially looked dazzling in a sort of inhuman kind of way. I in fact left the film wondering how different/much better the film might have been if Gilliam had only done the art direction, or had at least been managed more in terms of the narrative (yet another windy epic at 2 hours). The big question of course is how did they finish it without Ledger? With surprisingly little upset is the answer. Gilliam rewrote chunks and recruited three other actors – Johnny Depp, Jude Law (oh why?) and Colin Farrell (why oh why?!) to fill his boots. Since they mostly only appear in the other distorted world of the Imaginarium, the changing face was integrated quite easily into the story. I’m glad I satisfied my curiosity and saw it, but I won’t be rushing to recommend this to everyone.


Sleep finally came that afternoon – since the market was shutting down anyway I decided to get some rest and slept most of the day before preparing for the official short film party that night. It was a fairly fun affair, especially hanging out on the jetty and watching fireworks which you can’t do at many other film festivals, we muttered about trying to get into a party at a villa somewhere before giving that idea up and going back to the same club as the previous night (can’t remember the name). My feet was in so much pain that I had to leave after about 45 minutes and got a taxi home – and a 4am I still felt guilty that I hadn’t made the most of the night!

Up again at a respectable 9am, I went off to catch ‘Map of the Sounds of Tokyo’ by Spanish director Isabel Coixet. Starring Rinko Kikuchi who I’d loved in Babel, in an unlikely romantic pairing with Sergi Lopez who is a well-known Spanish actor who I wasn’t actually familiar with (but I will look forward to seeing in François Ozon's upcoming 'Ricky'), and set in Tokyo, this could have been my surprise favourite film of the festival. Kikuchi plays Ryu, a fish market worker by night and freelancing hitwoman, who is hired to kill the ex-lover (Lopez) of a girl who just committed suicide, by the latter’s father. Unfortunately (*spoilers) she falls in love with him instead and we watch the complications that this causes unfold. The cinematography was beautiful with lost of contrast between the harsh world of meat cleavers in the market and guns, juxtaposed with the tenderness of their encounters and lovemaking in the Parisian themed love motel where different rooms represented different districts of Paris, which I couldn’t help but fall in love with. Their conversations in English had the beautiful delicate and clumsy eloquence that only comes when two people are both communicating in a language that is not their native one. Frankly I thought it was fantastic, so much so that when I came out and my colleague said she had tickets to watch it that evening, I agreed to see it again (she also emotionally blackmailed me with the threat that it would be the last time we could do the red carpet affair, and finally I had nothing else on the agenda). The afternoon subjected me to the official short film selection which depressed the hell out of me and I won’t go into any more.

After this screening, I caught up with Chris and co at the Grand and through his journalist friend Ros, we were able to get into the official after party of the film. It was a bit surreal seeing the director and actors a few feet away and then singing karaoke (a theme in the film itself), so surreal that I didn’t think anything of going over to Isabel to say how much I liked the film, before she got dragged away to sing again. The night concluded back over at The Baron where I was oblivious to the fact that Christoph Waltz squeezed past me at one night. Chris rushed over to ask me if I knew who that was – not having seen inglorious Basterds in which he plays Colonel Hans Landa, I didn’t – and Chris said that this guy was about to become a big star. Sure enough, he took the Best Actor prize the following night and the buzz began.

The festival activity had all but finished by Sunday, apart from the preparations for the closing ceremony that night, and the fact that the competition films were all being repeated throughout the day. I had at least 6 I was dying to see - especially ones I’d been unable to see when I wasn’t there during the first week – so I started proceedings with Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank. I wasn’t surprised to see yet another Arnold film starting on a council estate, after Wasp and Red Road. I also wasn’t surprised that it was UKFC supported since both these things tend to go hand in hand. I think Wasp is a masterpiece but I found Red Road a bit irritating. But I thought she really hit the nail on the head with Fish Tank. The story follows Mia (newcomer Katie Jarvis) whose mother has got herself a new boyfriend, Connor played by Michael Fassbender (despite seeing Hunger relatively recently I managed to fail to recognise him until the credits came up). The sexual tension between Mia and Connor is palpable from the outset and it much of the film revolves around will they won’t they – she is 15 after all… This story runs parallel to her quest to achieve something with her dancing and better herself. As she prepares a demo tape for an audition you cannot help but feel the sense of impending doom. The whole story feels like it’s straight out of Chat magazine but it also feels frighteningly plausible. Arnold’s direction is supreme, there is something rather Loachian about it (Mia’s mother is also played by Kierston Wareing who was the lead in Loach’s ‘It’s a Free World’ where I wondered to what extent she was acting, so believable was she). I loved all her touches on the contrast between reality and aspiration – e.g. the bling bling of MTV as observed by the daughters in their humble abode. The awful way the mum treats her daughters really brings home a sense of desperation that you can see how kids like this get into trouble, and how very difficult it is for them to break that cycle. Everything had a fantastic natural feel to it, from all angles – lighting, dialogue – and it was one of the first films that didn’t drag towards the end. It was a worthy winner of the Cannes jury prize and I am definitely recommending.


I tried to get in to see ‘The Prophet’ which everyone had prophesied would take the Palme, but alas the room got full about ten people before me, then I went to try and get into Gaspar Noe’s much hyped (if not for the worse) ‘Enter the Void’, full again, so I went to queue for ‘Broken Embraces’ (see my note about spotting Almodovar at Cannes two posts before this one). I don’t know whether the fact that I saw it with French subtitles only had something to do with my reduced enjoyment (I don’t think so as I understood everything), but frankly I found the film remarkably tedious. There’s a lot of homage in there – film noir among the strongest contenders – but the film just seemed to lack the vivacity that we’ve come to expect from the legend. I’m not saying that I was waiting for the brightly coloured comedy that made him – already Volver started to show a darker side and I enjoyed that – but Broken Embraces just seemed overlong (again), windy and quite depressing. By the time our blinded director decides to re-edit the film starring his former lover (played by Cruz), which should be an emotional triumphant climax, frankly I couldn’t really care. Almodovar ahs a way of surpring me though – the first time I saw Hable con Ella I was astounded – the second time I couldn’t for the life of me find what I saw in it – but I warmed to it again on a third viewing. I think I will give this one another bash in a few months time.

If I’d had the time I would have caught The White Ribbon, Bright Star and A l’Origine (bizarrely, its lead actress, Soko, is a friend of a friend who I chatted with at event we were all involved in a couple of years back, and is more renowned as a very witty singer), as well as The Prophet. I was strangely drawn to ‘Face’ by Tsai Ming-Liang as the art direction looked phenomenal, but my suspicions about its potentially weak narrative were confirmed by informal reports of many people getting up to leave before its 2h18m was up. Inglorious Basterds was the big letdown, Vengeance, with its rather non-arthouse Johnnie Hallyday starring, was the one that everyone wondered who it had got in. The crowd pleaser was ‘Looking for Eric’ which I should probably catch shortly which there wasn’t much talk about the other films, unless I’d just missed it all during the first week.

So that pretty much wrapped up my Cannes. I stuck around for abut another 36 hours with my boss (a local) who gave me a guided tour on the back of her scooter, and there were several hours spent trying to work out what to do if the impending strike affected my return train (it should have done, but didn’t). I returned to Paris many features wiser, many shorts more unwise, about 10 mosquito bites more irritated, and many, many hours sleep deprived (does that sentence make sense?) And God willing, I’m counting down to my return next year.

Hunter and Purchase

So, let's not make a big deal of this... Recently I've found myself having the urge to tell people about my blog, while simultaneously having received lots of positive comments from various readers I've gathered. Such events have led to me deciding to take down the veil. So, no dramatic revelations à la Girl with a One Track Mind, but henceforth I intend to mention things I'm involved in as I think it helps with the bigger picture. For example, I used to produce a short film festival for 2 1/2 years which helps to explain my obsession with shorts. As well as programming I'm also involved in making shorts and other bits (I have been and am still involved in a number of features too). For starters, here is the new site for my recently formed production company, Hunter and Purchase (not surnames of either of its team members, but surnames of another well known team...). My colleague just recently completed a gorgeous little animation inspired by the likes of Pes. Take a peek below:

Catch up and Almodóvar

No posts for a while - have been super busy at Cannes - but I'll be back on form shortly, with a full write up on the festival coming soon.

In the meantime, I spent some time translating and subtitling Pedro Almodóvar's latest short that was apparently shot in the corner of the Broken Embraces set. As far as I know this is the only English subtitled version available, since I looked far and wide for one before deciding to do it myself.

It debuted exclusively on Canal+ Spain on Friday 13th March and is his first short film in 30 years. He has stressed that it's quite different in tone and style to the feature . Having seen the feature, I wouldn't say that's entirely true since the feature offers a film within a film and we have already seen clips from this short in the feature. Regrettably, as an Almodóvar fan I found Broken Embraces a bit tiresome, while the short actually has a lot of energy and wit. Enjoy it before it gets taken down...

La Concejala Antropofaga Pedro Almodovar English Subtitles
Uploaded by girlbitespenblog. - Full seasons and entire episodes online.

Funnily enough after I made this I had a dream that I met Pedro on the way to Cannes and tried to tell him enthusiastically about having subtitled this film as I was such a fan of his work. Regrettably, in the dream, he couldn't have been less interested, leaving me heartbroken in his wake. While I was actually at Cannes, Almodovar was funnily enough one of the few stars I saw there. The poor guy looked like he'd just popped out for a coffee on this particular morning, he may even have been on his own, and he was mobbed so matter which way he turned. He looked absolutely flustered. Rarely do we see this kind of mobbing of a director, let alone a European one. As he walked by I couldn't help but think about my dream, but thought better of going to talk to him and instead did like a true tourist and took a picture instead.

Women's writing

I've noticed just recently that, subconsciously, many of my film reviews on here have paid special attention to the presentation of women within the reviewed work. This has evolved quite naturally, and wasn't at the front of my mind when I started writing this blog. I hate the phrase 'I'm not a feminist', which I've very probably written somewhere on here, and yet it comes to mind to say it again now. I hate it because it (wrongly) suggests some sort of radical bra-burning, man-hating extremism, maybe even lesbianism. I wouldn't say that any of this qualities pertain to me. However, I am acutely sensitive to what it means to be a woman today, and how this idea is formed and manipulated by the culture around us - be it films/art/literature, or the press, or one's own peers. I consider myself to be very independent but I also thrive in my (heterosexual) relationships. My world doesn't revolve around body image, a desperation to achieve a celebrity level of beauty, or the need to find a man to 'complete me'. But I find that these characteristics are challenged and threatened on a regular basis. And I believe that can only be for the worse. I believe that my wish for all women to find happiness within themselves in a culture that makes it difficult, does make me a feminist to a certain degree. Presentations of women that propagate the idea that we are willingly subservient to men and constantly seeking to improve ourselves to become more desirable, make my blood boil involuntarily.

I was reading the Guardian online this morning, as I do most days and came across this article by freelance journalist Jill Parkin, with 30 years experience under her belt. I'd encourage you to take a moment to read it, but if you can't/won't, it basically describes how recently she's found herself having to reject freelance assignments for the first time in her life because so many of them require women to completely expose themselves and their personal lives in their writing. Examples include the women talking about their degrading sexual habits, or those undertaking fad diets: the Daily Mail is currently running a weight loss contest between two journalists. Ms Parkin is quite right when she says: "it's almost as good as women mud-wrestling or a wet T-shirt competition".

I don't make a habit of leaving comments on articles but I was incredibly frustrated that there wasn't the opportunity to comment on this one. I thought her article was a real eye-opener. It made me feel incredibly uncomfortable, but at the same time I applauded her approach and unwillingness to participate in this charade (although this record suggests she succumbed at least twice in late 2007). As she says, men are not expected to debase themselves in the same way. It's very fitting with the women's magazine culture which purports to advise us on the best ways to live our lives, which I've discussed elsewhere. It's an illusion which reinforces the idea that we are perpetually incomplete without more material things (namely clothes, shoes, bags and beauty products), without losing just a bit more weight, and of course, without a man.

I know that the magazine industry and press in general has been suffering desperately in recent years, and the battle to attract and retain readers is an incredibly tough one. But I don't believe that reducing the editorial to the lowest common denominator is positive for any of us. I say the 'lowest common denominator' because magazines would probably argue that they are only responding to demand, and they have a point. It is frustrating that women are buying into this kind of material, and thus feeding it. I remember finding it fascinating to see how more than one new UK women's title purported to be making a stand and providing more intelligent editorial, that women are seeking - such as First magazine. However it took very little time for it to metamorphose into the typical mould of celebrity/fashion/sex/beauty as espoused by the likes of Glamour, Company, even Heat etc.

It's funny then that just recently I've started writing for an online women's magazine. I'm not going to provide links, but my belief is that if I want to try and change, or at least challenge this culture, then I have to set an example myself. Not one beauty or weight loss article so far. I'm mostly concentrating on cultural articles - film/book/art reviews, topical commentary. However I'd like to introduce a quasi-biographical section with positive female role models (with a less didactic title...). I'm not out to write feminist articles, but neither am I intending to blindly continue the superficial style of editorial that's so dangerously prevalent in women's light reading today.

Wendy and Lucy

I'd been meaning to check this out for a while - it first came to my attention when I was in the UK, but not being in a big city, I wasn't able to get to it. So when I got to Paris I was happy to see it hadn't yet started its theatrical run. Better still, I was glad to see a film which had had a fairly low profile in the UK, was actually getting a hell of a lot of publicity out here. This situation has also been replicated with some other 'indie' features, including Rachel Getting Married, which has some seriously big posters down in the metro. It's not released yet, but I'll be interested to see what business it does out here.

Back to W&L: I went to see it as part of a film club. Alas my company (who I'd not met previously) weren't so appreciative of the film, with the American woman at the end saying 'that was crap' just a little too loudly at the end. And I can see why people would be frustrated with the film. However, I was dying to recommend 'In the city of Sylvia' to her...

I make the parallel with 'In the city...' because what they have in common is their lack of 'action', that we're accustomed to. By action, I mean narrative, not action as an an 'action-movie'. But I often find these films the most rewarding. I think that an accurate representation of real life in any art is the greatest challenge, and achievement if well done (you may not be surprised to find that the French 'realists' are among my favourite novelists). Hence, films that are well done in near-enough 'real time' are my high - think '4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days'...

W&L is the story of Wendy and her dog, who are on the road towards Alaska, where Wendy hopes to get a job, since she's heard they're looking for people. At the start of the film, they've pulled up in Oregon for a pit stop. And from the outset, we're informed about Wendy's lack of money, which forms the backbone of the film. I knew I would empathise with her because I've come to paris without a job - my last 2 UK clients have only just paid me (both over a month overdue) and I've literally been counting my pennies every single day to try and get by. And in this situation, all expenditure is analysed and has to be justified. One night when I didn't have enough money for a hostel (and my friend already had people staying), it actually crossed my mind to stay out late and eventually crash in a stairwell of a friend's parents' flat that I had the entry code to. I'm not sure how seriously I entertained that thought, but as it happened I ended up in a cheap hostel, and didn't get a wink of sleep due to fat guy in bed opposite snoring his head off all night. I only tell you this story because I could tell exactly how Wendy came to the conclusion that she would be alright sleeping in the woods.

Michelle Williams is so perfectly cast. She is a really under-appreciated actress and all the better for it because I feel that having grown up with her on Dawsons, she is really at home in this rural America environment (Brokeback confirmed that too). I'm not sure of her age, but she is such a waif in this film that she could easily pass for early twenties. I think she was flawless.

I really felt like I was going through the emotions with her - when she got caught shoplifting and spent the whole day dealing with it, and incurred the fine, I know far too well that feeling of saving money, only to end up paying more, and wasting time later. That sense of hopelessness that you know her dog is going to be missing when she gets back. The irritating store clerk who she has to face again. That sense of desperation that you're dealing with a potentially infinite problem - it could be weeks or months before she finds the dog, if at all. Then the car! All these unforeseen costs that prove that you can't ever really budget in your own life. And the episode in the woods! I felt like I could imagine or remember, similar situations happening to me. I'm sure I'm not alone in that. I thought it was fantastic.

In the Cut

In the Cut

I've ummed and ahhed about watcing this since it was released. The Piano is up there in my top 5 favourite films, so I'm always interested in what else Campion has done, but the reviews of this were so hit and miss that I wasn't sure whether to take a punt on it.

This is famously the film that instigated the on air dispute between Brit legend Sir Michael Parkinson and Meg Ryan, as he quizzed her about the sexual nature of the film. I was wondering whether she had taken the playing-against-type theme a little too 'to heart' in this interview, as I'd not expected the loveable, doe-eyed, wide-smiling Ms Ryan to ever be so hostile in real life.

Reviews and comment have really laboured on that fact that this film is very sexual: a quick scan of IMDB reveals 2 articles entitled 'Meg Ryan in sadistic porn flick?' and 'Meg Ryan takes on naughty role'. Admittedly this may relate to the fact that the novel on which it is based seems more extreme than the film. But nonetheless - come on - I would never have concluded that the sex in In The Cut was any worse than many other similarly pitched films. Sure there is a graphic fellatio at the beginning but it doesn't trouble us particularly because it doesn't concern any of the leading characters. In fact we cannot even see the faces of the participants - what I'm saying is we have no emotional connection to the characters (or the actors) - unlike in, for example, The Brown Bunny. Other than that there is a sex scene between Meg Ryan's character Fanny and Mark Ruffalo's Detective Mulloy. It's a strange scene which cannot help but look like he is basically rimming her. However, in the context of their subsequent conversation, we realise that this was not the case. Apart from these scenes, 2 scenes where Ryan masturbates, and some petting, there really shouldn't be any raised eyebrows. I think it's probably more about the fact that it's Meg Ryan than anything else. Frankly i had a hard time dealing with both Ryan and Ruffalo playing completely against their romcom identities, but I think this is probably more about my perception of them, than their performances as actors.

The production team was a formidable female powerhouse - combining the producing talents of Laurie Parker and Nicole Kidman (her producing debut) with the writing talents of Susanna Moore and Campion, and the directorial skill of the latter. Consequently I thought this was a real opportunity to present a strong female character with depth. But I couldn't help but feel that it falls rather short. Fanny is resolutely austere, giving little away verbally or emotionally. It's implied she has a profound, intelligent side from her profession as a literature teacher, research into the culture of black slang and by the fact that - wait for it - she is moved at regular intervals by poetry displayed on the metro. These moments had to be the most cringeworthy of the film - perhaps just following Mulloy's rather surprising proposal to Fanny "If you want me to lick your pussy I can do it". I'm undecided whether it's the language or Kevin Bacon's overacting as a stalker ex-boyfriend which warrants more face scrunching.

There is nothing remarkable about the story - it's a thriller by numbers. I can't claim to have read the book but I'm aware that Moore, as the novelist and screenwriter of this work, has apparently completely changed the ending, rendering it much less powerful in the process. Maybe it was actually a sage economic decision that means that intrigued people like me will go out and buy the book now.

All in all the film was pretty much what I expected, which is something that I wouldn't watch again or recommend to a friend. Campion went back to directing shorts after 'In the Cut' - as a fan of her early shorts I need to check these out ASAP - but I will be looking forward to her most recent feature 'Bright Star' about the life of John Keats, which is currently in post-production. I hope that the shorts have taken her back to her roots and we'll some of the talent she displayed before the disappointment that was 'In the Cut'.

Christine Vachon: Kids and Safe

So the lack of posts corresponds directly to a rather large upheaval in my personal life which consists of moving countries. I'm now happily settled in Paris, after 10 nights on various people's floors across the city before finding my own place (actually a flatshare with some cinephiles). Luckily, despite the urgency for finding a flat and job (well, one out of two so far isn't bad), I've still managed to catch a couple of things, although sadly it wasn't at Paris' famous' 'Printemps du cinema' where tickets are all €3.50 for 3 days (worryingly, the last time I was living in Paris, 2003-04, I remember €4-4.50 being the normal price for a cinema ticket). Anyway I saw In the City of Sylvia and Frozen River, which I hope to write about separately. I also stepped back in time and watched the whole BBC Pride and Prejudice series, and their version of North and South - will discuss them later.

I've been off reading for a while, partly due to general restlessness in life, partly due to only bringing one book to Paris with me ('Metrostop Paris' which is disappointingly dry so far). But when my sister popped over to Paris last week she managed to bring me one of the 2 Christine Vachon books I'd ordered before I left home - 'A Killer Life' (the second book). I've raced through it (as I tend to do with all books on film production) and am about 30 pages off finishing so far. I've read about her before in Tim Adler's The Producers (please note deliberate boycott of linking to Amazon since #amazonfail furore) and so know a bit about her approach and oeuvre. She's consistently produced provocative films - sometimes I've felt they might be a bit too provocative - a bit angry for the sake of it, but I really haven't seen that much of her work to judge fairly.

So I set to work on it at the weekend. First up was 'Kids'. Before I'd made the decision to watch it, I'd read a few things about it in the book, notably about the death of Justin Pierce, who killed himself aged 25 in 2000, 5 years after Kids was completed. This warped the watching of the film for film me slightly - not least because somehow I thought that actor who played Telly was Justin - so I was watching it and wrongly thinking that he was dead.

I actually really enjoyed Kids. I've had friends tell me they thought it was horrific and sensationalist, but I just found it gritty and real. More than any of the activities shown, I was troubled by the dialogue between the boys - both Telly and Casper on their own at the beginning, and then in the flat. Nothing else really fazed me. Notably, in this post-Sex and the City world, I wasn't shocked by the girls' language whatsoever. The other shocker was the assault on the guy in the park which I found quite distressing. More so because I felt conditioned to expecting some kind of remorse, which never came.

The choice of real actors has to be applauded. Vachon talks at length about the problems this posed during shooting, with many of them failing to turn up, shoplifting, taking drugs on set and generally causing no end of trouble. But all their hard work is clearly visible on the screen. I don't know if they could have extracted such great performances from real actors. Interestingly, a real actor was cast for the part of Jenny, but dropped at the last moment when they found Chloe who was up and coming as New York's hottest, but reluctant it-girl.

I had a real 'Romeo and Juliet' feeling towards the end when you're desperately hoping that Chloe Sevingy's character Jenny will stop Telly from giving the virus to Darcy. I felt a terrible sense of hopelessness. However, although the justification is that she is too 'out of it' due to the drugs, and consequently she'd be feeling the effects of it the next morning, I wasn't entirely convinced that she wouldn't have stopped Casper. This scene - due to the sex between minors - was one of the most difficult to get past the censors. But more so than the act, it's his 'Jenny, it's me, Casper, it's OK' refrain that's the most haunting.

Meanwhile, Safe, released in the same year, was an altogether different story. I've always admired Julianne Moore for her astute role choices and it's interesting to note that Safe was her first leading role. Also interesting to note that she got her first lead role aged 35 and has gone up and up since then - while most actresses are lamenting the fact that after 35 they only get poor/supporting roles (if any), I would suggest that this is the difference between working with the studios and going independent, or at least making choices with integrity.

So I was sad to find 'Safe' a bit of a let-down. Its 2 hours felt more like 3 1/2. In fact I actually fast forwarded through many of the later scenes which I only do very very rarely. Most of all I just found Moore's character Carol, incredibly flat. Haynes drags the narrative along like a sack of potatoes, revealing very little along the way. Meanwhile, Carol is far too manicured to make any breakdown convincing. I felt like I was rolling my eyes each time she fainted or found herself paralysed to communicate. Honestly, when I like about it I feel so lethargic that I almost can't find the energy to even review it.

The art direction combined with the long, wide, lingering shots really communicate the coldness and alienation of Carol's world very well. But as a spectator they left me uninspired. I guess after just watching a film so resplendent with energy as Kids, Safe felt like the aftermath of their wild party where everyone had just gone to sleep.

What's probably more interesting is to look at how this sowed the seeds for 'Far from Heaven' - testament to Haynes' continuing fascination with unmasking suburbia. I saw it when it was released but would like to revisit it. I've also just grabbed 'Savage Grace' and so will feed back on these soon.