What Richard Did (2012) - Film Review

Starring: Jack Reynor, Sam Keeley and Lars Mikkelsen

Synopsis:

Loosely based on true events, What Richard Did is the story of a Dublin teenager on the cusp of manhood. Richard Karlsen (Jack Reynor) has it all - the adoring family, the awe and respect of his peers as captain of the rugby team and the prospects of a carefree summer before university. When newcomer to the scene Lara catches Richard's eye, his friendship with fellow teammate Conor (Sam Keeley) becomes tenuous when it's apparent Richard isn't the only one to notice Lara. Struggling to accept the friendship between Conor and Lara, Richard's jealously grows, albeit in an initially passive-aggressive manner.What unfolds is a story of unprecedented violence and guilt that is haunting for both Richard and the audience.

Thoughts:

What Richard Did is essentially a "fall of a hero" tale. Richard is the archetypal hero figure - the golden boy of his milieu. He's the stereotypical apple of his parent's eyes (especially his fathers, which only sets him up for a greater fall when events unfold), looked up to with awe and respect by the younger members of the rugby clique and fawned over by girls. Richard however is not one who carries this admiration with arrogance. He is well mannered and polite to his elders, protective over the younger members of his social circle and displays many instances of good intentions.

When the character of Lara is introduced, we begin to see cracks in Richard's initially stellar character. When it becomes apparent that Conor is still very much in the picture for being Lara's friend, an underlying current of jealousy is evident in Richard's demeanour. Where overt hostility could be employed from the offset, the played down insincerity with which Richard treats Conor is all the more unsettling. The tension is palpable, especially for the passive-aggressiveness from Richard's side compared to the continually good-natured Conor.

When the film's title lives up to its name, Richard's means of coping with the fall out is much more telling of his character. Essentially it seems Richard's biggest character flaw is his ego and the need to be seen in a positive light. His behaviour breaks down in a subtle but meaningful way thereafter and it is this development (or reversal of) that is endearing to watch play out.

What Richard Did examines the idea of a person's true nature given the right circumstances. When guilty, Richard is more cold and calculated, his main drive being for self-preservation. Yet despite this, he still expresses remorse. At the heart of his character, Richard does seem a 'good' person - so should he be condemned for this one anomalous yet reprehensible act? Here the lines of morality are blurred and this is where What Richard Did sparks an interesting debate.

Richard could be easily portrayed as unlikeable and arrogant for his status and privilege. The question that does bear considering is whether Richard's upbringing has inevitably given him a sense of entitlement that stretches into his personal relationships. There is an element of hubris to the character, evident in the way Richard cannot fathom why Conor doesn't concede to his failing to win Lara by stepping aside and breaking off contact. Without this, how can Richard display himself as the 'better man'?  What Richard Did however, doesn't depict any stereotypical, debauched behaviour to hint that Richard's actions are typical or a product of his upbringing. The mistakes and actions dealt with in What Richard Did are universal and transcend environmental and social influences.

The cinematography is understated, relying on natural light to create a sense of stillness throughout the film. This helps develop the idea of  'the calm before the storm', hinting towards something more terrible impending. With the absence of artificial lighting, there's an intimate element to the film, with much of the story set in the languid hours of the day. Moody and poignant, the story becomes more true to life for its reliance on authenticity.


My one gripe with What Richard Did is the lack of character development for Conor. The film gave little to no elaboration to his background and much is left to speculation. Conor is depicted as more obviously vulnerable than Richard, slighter in build and more gentle in his mannerisms. The film only hints at personal issues, yet all we are left with is the impression that Conor is as much the 'good guy' as Richard apparently is. Although Conor is a likeable character treated with sympathy, it's difficult to say whether there would be much satisfaction from seeing Richard brought to justice (i.e. prison).

What Richard Did is an exploration of morality and guilt. An observation into the subsequent fallout of one boy's terrible act, when there is little redemption or justice.

Shame (2011) - Film Review

Starring: Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan.

Synopsis: Brandon is desperately addicted to sex and porn. A successful New York businessmen, he projects a facade of suave composure to his friends and colleagues.The unceremonious arrival of estranged and dysfunctional sister Sissy threatens the picture of stability and success Brandon has constructed for himself. 

Thoughts:

We are introduced to Brandon against the backdrop of a grimy New York subway. Assiduously dressed in fitted coat and cravat-styled scarf, he's incongruous to the dirt smeared windows; a contrast to the sloven homeless man slumped in the opposite seat. His shame - inevitably reviled by society - is worn openly. Here we have just one example of the enduring irony employed in Shame. Brandon's shame is private and tortuous. Shots of Brandon staring lingeringly up at exhibitionist couples through windows emphasises Brandon's isolation. He alone seems to be incapable of wearing their deviations openly.

The audience is granted an intimate look into Brandon's perversions. Whilst this is uncomfortable for the subject matter at hand, the irony is again evident when played against scenes with a co-worker who Brandon develops 'real' feelings for. Connecting on an emotional level creates a mental and physical block, making Brandon a figure of pity and hopelessness. Shutting the world out on any meaningful level, the audience are the only ones privy to Brandon's personal life.

It's unsettling to see how ordered and meticulous he is in his daily life. Ritualistic to a tee, the arrival of emotionally erratic Sissy (Carey Mulligan) threatens Brandon's grip on what he can control. Although never elaborated on, instead relegated to an invisible storyline for the audience to ruminate on, Brandon and Sissy are incapable of engaging in functional relationships. At the heart of this seems to be an inappropriate 'anti-bond', leaning towards incestuous undertones. The siblings are brutally exposed to one another, both physically and emotionally.

Sissy is damaged. Whether due to dysfunctional relationships of her own (scenes of Sissy pleading on the phone to an ex-lover are sad and pathos-like), she clings desperately to Brandon for scraps of affection. She is above all, vulnerable and despite her own distasteful behaviour, Shame depicts her as almost innocent and childlike. Shrouded in thin white material or in a glitzy ballgown singing a bluesy version of New York New York (in the films most gorgeous scene), Sissy seems to be the only character to appreciate hers and her brother's issues of misplaced intimacy. "We're not bad people. We just come from a bad place."

Shame is raw and brutal in exposing Brandon for his addiction. Whereas much of the film is muted in its colour pallete, emphasising the isolated world Brandon inhabits, colours are suddenly abundant and vibrant when Brandon succumbs or indulges in his addiction. The soundtrack is melancholic but hopeful and with the film's ambiguous open ending lending to audience speculation, that is all Brandon is left with. The possibility of rehabilitation.

Steve McQueen and Abi Morgan (both past collaborators with Fassbender - see Hunger and Fish Tank respectively) have created a brave, nonjudgmental portrait of a man isolated for an addiction many would look upon as perverse. Unflinching and unapologetic, Fassbender is on form in his portrayal of Brandon. The nuances of his personality - charismatic, suavely flirtatious, tortured for his impulsions - are perfectly executed, without a hint of melodrama and as composed as his character crafts himself to be.

Kelly + Victor - Film Review

Starring: Antonia Campbell-Hughes and Julian Morris.

 Synopsis:

After a chance meeting in a nightclub in their hometown Liverpool, strangers Kelly and Victor are instantly drawn together in a drug fueled haze. A one night stand sparks an intense dynamic between the two - one that shocks Victor yet inexplicably keeps him hooked. With their relationship darkly masochistic, Victor - discontent with the illegal exploits of friends around him - ironically becomes attached to the destructive bond he shares with Kelly. Likewise Kelly, who is largely isolated from the world, develops a brutal intimacy with Victor - yet it is one which is still hidden from anyone outside of the couple.

Thoughts:

A lot is left to be desired with regards to the character of Kelly. Perhaps intended as an enigma, she's depicted as possessing a timid, ethereal quality that attracts the grounded Victor. Drawing him in with vague allusions to their match based on horoscopes, there's little insight into where her violent, masochistic inclinations come from. Matching this against a scene where she expresses reluctance to act as an accomplice to a fantasy game with a prostitute friend, the film seems driven to portray Kelly as a conflicted individual, with only the faintest allusions to her past.

Victor on the other hand is depicted as the weaker link. A grounded family man at heart, he is relatively more at home with societal convention, portrayed in more straightforward scenes of familial duty with his young nephew. There's a degree of inner turmoil as he tries to reconcile this life with the darker, closeted one he shares with Kelly. The implications aren't lost on the two, with Victor in particular conflicted by how grossly conspicuous and taboo their relationship is to conventional society. This ultimately reaches its inevitable breaking point with destructive results.

I would have liked a deeper psychological slant to the film but perhaps leaving it to the audience's imagination made it all the more unsettling. The relationship is closed off to the rest of the world, set to the cloistered backdrops of Kelly's claustrophobic flat or the quiet confines of an art gallery. With sparse dialogue and little character background, Julian Morris and Antonia Campbell-Hughes complement each other well. Morris's earthy characterisation against Campbell-Hughes' tenuous one dramatically highlights the self destructive element of their relationship.

Cinematography-wise, Kelly + Victor celebrates the quiet beauty of Liverpool. There's an emphasis on the simplicity and tranquility of nature where Victor feels most at peace, which only heightens the extremities of Kelly. Her scenes are eerily quiet, with the barest of details in the background, or else in extreme settings of hazy nightclubs and scenes of brutality and violence. With the addition of the brooding Bill Ryder-Jones score providing the ominous overtones, the theme of danger and taboo is apparent throughout much of the film.

A unique look at the dynamics of a deeply dysfunctional relationship. Kelly+ Victor is an intimate, yet uncomfortable portrait of two individuals drawn together in an intense addiction for masochistic gratification.

Dear Lupin - Letters to a Wayward Son - Book Review

"Dear Lupin" is the collection of delightfully witty and wry letters sent to Mortimer Jr. from his ever exasperated father Roger, a racing pundit for the Sunday Times. Chronicling the various scrapes and escapades Charlie finds himself in, Roger is always a source of sound advice, humorous anecdotes and world weary remonstrations in the vain attempt to keep his errant son in check.

 Much of this stems from the generation gap between father and son, with Charlie more at leisure to peruse the fruits of life more flagrantly than his father would like. Holidaying with deplorable friends or else dabbling in drink and drugs is at odds with the more mundane chagrins of Roger's life, including dull acquaintances at dinner parties, the excessive drinking habits of Charlie's' mother and the ever salient fact of growing old. 

"I had a bad and painful attack of gout last week and now I have a throat infection and am partially deaf. Getting old is revolting and I hate it."

  Roger Mortimer's letters never failed to make me grin with delight as he litters his correspondence with random digressions and stories of oddball relatives, the exploits of a family pet or the death count of a nearby car accident. Despite the numerous allusions to his disappointment towards Charlie's foibles and shortcomings, including many a failed (or lack thereof) attempt at respectability, Roger's affection for his son is never in doubt. As Charlie flits erractically from one job to the other, Roger is the steadfast guardian, never failing to be the constant in his son's life.

Surprisingly, Dear Lupin doesn't include replies from Charlie (or Lupin, the moniker handed to him by his father after the erstwhile son in Diary of a Nobody). Instead Charlie provides small footnotes letting us know what points in his life Roger is alluding to. These too are a small source of laughter, as Charlie plays the part of the hapless, wayward son with real life panache. The collection also incorporates a handy go to list of people and places mentioned throughout the correspondence.

Dear Lupin is a unique, heartwarming vignette of the relationship between a father and son spanning from the late 1960s onwards. Not only are we granted an intimate look at one family's idiosyncratic life, but also the social context in general. Roger Mortimer has a wonderfully acerbic and eloquent way of writing, infusing Dear Lupin with a sepia toned melancholy for the lost art of letter writing.
 

Note: Dear Lupin is just one of three collections of letters from Roger Mortimer, with Dear Jane: My Father's Life and Letters and Dear Lumpy: Letters to a Disobedient Daughter the two remaining installments in this familial saga of correspondence.

The Place Beyond The Pines - Film Review

Starring: Ryan Gosling, Bradley Cooper, Eva Mendes and Dane Dehaan.

Synopsis:

Travelling stuntman Luke Glanton learns he is a father after a brief love affair but with no stable financial prospects to speak of is rejected by ex-lover Romina (Eva Mendes). Determined to prove his worth as a father, Luke takes up employment with mechanic and ex-bank robber Robin. Soon Luke picks up where his friend long ago retired, and begins a string of bank heists to provide for his son.

Bradley Cooper is Avery Cross, a local cop keen to live up to the prestige of his father, a respected judge. Struggling to climb the ranks of his career, Avery finds his moment of glory in the films pivotal moment, yet marred by his own dubious morality. When Luke and Avery's paths cross, the encounter sets in motion an emotional story of fathers and sons, morality and redemption.

Thoughts:

Although I adored this film beyond anything, it was one that I preferred not to immediately over analyse and critique. I instead ruminated on how seamlessly two separate narratives - one of the wayward stuntman Luke Glanton, pursuing a life of crime for the benefit of his estranged baby son, the other of morally dubious Avery Cross - weaved into the other. With a generational slant to the story, the two drastically different men leave a potentially devastating legacy to their respective sons.

What I loved above all were the beautifully understated performances from the cast. Ryan Gosling's character left a presence which lingered throughout the latter parts of the story, a ghostly remnant hanging over his troubled son, played by a poignantly weary eyed Dane Dehaan. Gosling's scenes with his infant son are tender and bittersweet, at odds with his harder, tattooed exterior. Possessing a fatherly instinct that is effortlessly innate and pure, Luke is still too wayward to provide the stability his son and Romina need. The film's subtle parallels between father and son are subsequently sad and uplifting, hopeful and helpless as we wonder whether history is doomed to repeat itself or whether it can exonerate those chained to its past.

The Place Beyond The Pines has a voyeuristic style to it, with wide panning, sky high shots coupled with those closely shadowing characters from behind, almost as if the audience is acting as the silent moral conscience of the story. The cinematography is beautiful, with a sense of poignancy and sadness permeating the overarching themes of forgiveness, self acceptance and redemption. Coupled with a beautiful score including Ennio Morricone's Ninna Nanna Per Adulteri, The Place Beyond the Pines is one of those films hard to leave behind, perhaps best encapsulated by this quote from Dehaan - 

"People always say it lingers you know? Like I saw the film last night and it's still sitting right here."

A melancholic tale of dysfunctional family ties and the ambivalence in what can be defined as right and wrong, The Place Beyond The Pines carries a strong sense of fate and melodrama that suitably appeals to the emotions. A stand out offering from director Derek Cianfrance.

 

Frances Ha - Film Review

Starring: Greta Gerwig

 

Synopsis:

27 year old Francis (Gerwig), an apprentice dancer, is at a loss when best friend Sophie announces plans to move out of their shared apartment. Floating through various living arrangements and piecemeal jobs in the year that follows, Frances becomes increasingly bemused at her lack of prospects compared to those around her. 

 Just as E.M Forster's 'The Longest Journey' quietly found its way into my life with its fortuitous timing (see blog post here), Frances Ha is my cinematic soothsayer equivalent. Millennials and 20-somethings alike would find this utterly relatable for its themes of quarter life restlessness. 

Frances Ha encapsulates the confusion and anxiety felt at the realisation that life is now a competition you had no wish to partake in - especially when it feels like you're losing. Friends who spend every waking moment with you now have plans that for the first time don't include you. Being in your 20s is now considered 'too old', or old enough to by now have a 'suitable job' and second homes.

As a twenty something Londoner, lacking the effortlessly cool apartment and hip neighbourhood to boot, I did feel slightly at a distance to the Manhattan setting and at times irritatingly carefree exploits of the characters. In one of her flippantly nonchalant moods, Frances takes off for a solo weekend in Paris. Bored and alone, the highlight of her Parisian foray is a call from erstwhile friend Sophie, holding out an olive branch to which Frances cannot commit to - being unceremoniously unavailable for flying out of the country on a moment's whim. (How she affords this when much of the film centers around France's financial woes was also to my chagrin). Nevertheless, I did like the whimsical nature of France's decisions, offset to her ever growing realisation that nothing goes to plan.

Her confusion at other people's sense of 'having it together' is both adorable and amusing and perfectly set to a dinner party, where acquaintances are married with second homes in France and express bemusement at Frances attempt to do the 'grown up thing' and ask ironically what their jobs are. This is offset with the more laidback table gatherings with flatmates Lev and Benji, who may not be quite as grown up but still leave Frances incredulous that everyone has it more together than herself. 

 

Greta Gerwig's performance is less frank and self aware as I anticipated it may be with my initial reservation that Frances Ha would be little more than a feature length episode of HBO's Girls. Instead Gerwig is awkward enough to be relatable, yet not so much to be irritatingly self complacent. With jubilous moments such as Frances running down the street to the score of Bowie's 'Modern Love', the carefree but wry element of Frances Ha is more visible for being shot in black and white.

 

 

 Have you seen Frances Ha? What were your thoughts?

The Love of My Life by Louise Douglas - Book Review

 

Synopsis: After the sudden death of husband Luca, Olivia [Liv] finds herself bereft of her companion in life. Spurned by their families for the embarrassment and emotional ramifications of their ill advised union and subsequent elopement, Liv makes the gut wrenching decision to relocate back to where she and Luca first met. The Love of My Life is set to the picturesque beach front town of Watersford, home to Marinella's, the family restaurant and backdrop to Liv and Luca's early life, both together and apart.

With no family or friends to speak of, and only the almost tangible memories of Luca to console herself with, Liv finds solace in the company of the only Marinella who doesn't express disdain at her arrival - Marc, Luca's twin brother. In their desolation and grief, the pair develop a mutual need for one another, both physically and emotionally.

 

Juggling her grief and guilt whilst enduring the perpetual hostility of her in-laws, Liv begins a job as a research assistant at the local university, working for a taciturn professor on his controversial biography of a Watersford author. The Love of My Life takes us through Liv's past and present, both with and without Luca and her struggle to find her new place in life.

Thoughts:

Douglas has taken a straight forward plot, and stock characters (i.e. the death of a spouse, inhospitable in-laws, extra marital affairs) and shaken off the usual literary stereotypes and assumptions one would usually associate with them. For instance, the affair is refrained from being regarded as anything sordid or disrespectful to Luca's memory. Liv expresses guilt and remorse for her actions and her grief is at times all consuming to the point where it isn't a far stretch to feel sympathy at her situation. Isolated and chastised for her decisions, both in the past and present, Liv is almost a social pariah, judged for the indiscretions and mishaps of her youth that have doggedly clung to her reputation as an adult.

As the story progresses, Douglas flicks back and forth through Liv's timeline, alternating between the present, newly widowed state and Liv's younger self.  The narrative is at times melodiously written, which I found myself thinking was quite odd for a first person perspective - it seemed out of keeping with the accessible style of Liv's tone. However as the story reminds you towards the end, it is in fact a written log of Liv's life post-Luca. Upon this realisation, I appreciated Douglas's knack of commenting on the smaller facets of a scene to create a world for her character that we're permitted unfettered access to. I never felt it to be a biased narrative, as although Liv discusses what could easily be perceived as a checkered past (through noone's fault but her own), she has no qualms in accepting her blame where due.

I personally would have preferred a bit more development for the supporting characters. Much of what we have is from Liv's perspective and from her younger self we know that naivety is not always lacking. I was intrigued by Nathalie, Liv's sister-in-law and Marc's wife, who is especially thorny to Liv and her return. Although we are given justification and insight into her motivations and attitude, I would have liked more interaction between her and Liv. 

Have you read The Love of My Life?