High-Rise has style, and I'm not just referring to the spot on 70s sideburns-and-shag carpet aesthetic. It was a smart move on director Ben Wheatley and his wife, screenwriter Amy Jump's, part to make the movie adaptation of a 1975 novel a period piece, and not update it, especially since it allows to audience to focus more on grotesque satire of class divides and the Inherent Savagery Within Us, (accented by the effective contrast between gorgeous visuals and growing savage brutality), instead of being frustrated by the lack of cell-phone usage. Seen through a Kaleidoscope lens, the result is a bit pretentious, but I found the movie overall to be fascinating and disturbing, it's downbeat nature slightly levitated by a feminist-leaning ending.
Plus, if it took place today, what chance would there be to see a poster for the 1966 cult classic Morgan: A Suitable Case for Treatment, hanging on a major character's wall? Or to hear ABBA's "SOS" as a string quartet and a Portishead cover?
Showing posts with label Adaptation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adaptation. Show all posts
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Monday, March 7, 2016
Hamlet (1996)
I appreciate Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet (1996). I like it existing, standing out as the sole unabridged cinematic adaptation of Shakespeare tragedy about The Dane Who Couldn't Make Up His Mind. How I like it as a movie is another matter.
In my mind's eye, the movie stands as a testament as to why Hamlet benefits from being edited. Similar to how Gus Van Saint's Psycho (1998) is useful demonstrating that a great script and wonderful cinematography doesn't necessarily make a great movie. I'm not saying that Branagh's Hamlet is an atrocity like Van Saint's experiment, far from it; it's a fine film, chock full of great performances and lovely production design.
But it does drag. Not surprising, since it is a 4 hour movie. But a really good Shakespeare adaptation should remind me why I love the Bard, not make me emphasize with those who consider him dull and impenetrable.
I could lay the blame on a few factors. Of course, there's the decision to capture every single bloomin' line and minor character in Shakespeare's longest play. Which did result in a lot of nice poetry, but it did also mean a lot of focus on Fortinbras and Norwegian diplomacy, elements which I never found to be among the more interesting aspects of the play. And tons of reiteration and retellings of things already seen and spoken of.
One of the benefits of shorter (and by shorter, I mean the 2 1/2 to 3 hour iterations) productions is that redundancies can be removed, and somewhere along the viewing, I found a new appreciation for all those directors who manager to trim enough to keep Hamlet compelling and comprehensible.
Maybe I just had a short attention span the evening I watched Branagh's Hamlet in one sitting. But with the odd explosion of ham that is to be expected with any Shakespeare adaptation, this was an especially soothing version. There were dynamic moments, including a finale that involved a falling chandelier. And it did have lots of long tracking takes, though these were less of the thrilling Hitchcock or Welles variety and more reminiscent of the somber, slow-moving moves of Tarkovsky. So we get plenty of walking and talking, and very little alternating camera angles to spice things up.
Again, I like this movie; there are far worse Hamlets than this one. And I’m glad that there is one complete Hamlet movie out there. But due to its prioritizing textual fidelity over cinematic storytelling, it misses being an enthralling movie.
In my mind's eye, the movie stands as a testament as to why Hamlet benefits from being edited. Similar to how Gus Van Saint's Psycho (1998) is useful demonstrating that a great script and wonderful cinematography doesn't necessarily make a great movie. I'm not saying that Branagh's Hamlet is an atrocity like Van Saint's experiment, far from it; it's a fine film, chock full of great performances and lovely production design.
But it does drag. Not surprising, since it is a 4 hour movie. But a really good Shakespeare adaptation should remind me why I love the Bard, not make me emphasize with those who consider him dull and impenetrable.
I could lay the blame on a few factors. Of course, there's the decision to capture every single bloomin' line and minor character in Shakespeare's longest play. Which did result in a lot of nice poetry, but it did also mean a lot of focus on Fortinbras and Norwegian diplomacy, elements which I never found to be among the more interesting aspects of the play. And tons of reiteration and retellings of things already seen and spoken of.
One of the benefits of shorter (and by shorter, I mean the 2 1/2 to 3 hour iterations) productions is that redundancies can be removed, and somewhere along the viewing, I found a new appreciation for all those directors who manager to trim enough to keep Hamlet compelling and comprehensible.
Maybe I just had a short attention span the evening I watched Branagh's Hamlet in one sitting. But with the odd explosion of ham that is to be expected with any Shakespeare adaptation, this was an especially soothing version. There were dynamic moments, including a finale that involved a falling chandelier. And it did have lots of long tracking takes, though these were less of the thrilling Hitchcock or Welles variety and more reminiscent of the somber, slow-moving moves of Tarkovsky. So we get plenty of walking and talking, and very little alternating camera angles to spice things up.
Again, I like this movie; there are far worse Hamlets than this one. And I’m glad that there is one complete Hamlet movie out there. But due to its prioritizing textual fidelity over cinematic storytelling, it misses being an enthralling movie.
Friday, May 31, 2013
The Killer Inside Me (2009)
Michael Winterbottom's cinematic adaptation of Jim Thompson's novel is a failure because it's too exact; it's too precise and pristine, and too close to the source material.
These issues have and can work for other directors: think Kubrick's overly sanitized and creepy 2001: a Space Odyssey (1968), or John Huston's faithful The Maltese Falcon (1941), which takes most of its dialogue straight from Hammett's book. Keep in mind, however, that these tones fitted with the material given, which is not what I can say about Winterbottom's film.
Thompson's classic pulp story is narrated by its protagonist, a psychopathic homicidal sheriff whose good ol' boy demeanor hides a calculating and mentally unhinged persona. He is a fascinating and frightening character, because we, the reader, are allowed access into his head. But he is telling the story to us, and since he gets less and less control over his impulses as the book goes on, his status as a reliable narrator becomes more shaky until it explodes in our face.
But if there is something that Winterbottom film is, it's reliable. What's presented to us is a accurately designed 1950's Texas town, the characters and most of the events are taken straight from the pen of Thompson. The awful, gross, and explicit bursts of violence are presented in a straightforward manner. Heck, the only real deviation is the sex scenes, which are shown in great detail, instead of the novel's suggested obviousness.
And that's the problem: it's too obvious! Part of what makes the book of The Killer Inside Me so brilliant is how shaky, flakey, and willing the story is to pull the rug out from under your feet. It's comparable to being on a tightrope, and suddenly finding that the net has vanished. Much of the film is shot in close-ups, but in such a way that it reveals only the external, and not the internal. (except for the last shot, which is just plain pretentious). Though it gives itself the air of a deep film about a psycho, it ends up a distant and surprisingly dull piece of celluloid (or digital...whatever format it was shot in).
One more thing: I first heard of The Killer Inside Me the book, from hearing about the hype from the film before it premired. I thought the story sounded interesting, and finding out that this sordid subject was based on a well-regarded pulp novel from 1950 gave me the inciative to find and read that book. And now it's one of my favorite novels. The film, when I finally got around to seeing it, is a simply a big disappointment. If the story still interests you, do yourself a favor: read the book, skip the film.
These issues have and can work for other directors: think Kubrick's overly sanitized and creepy 2001: a Space Odyssey (1968), or John Huston's faithful The Maltese Falcon (1941), which takes most of its dialogue straight from Hammett's book. Keep in mind, however, that these tones fitted with the material given, which is not what I can say about Winterbottom's film.
Thompson's classic pulp story is narrated by its protagonist, a psychopathic homicidal sheriff whose good ol' boy demeanor hides a calculating and mentally unhinged persona. He is a fascinating and frightening character, because we, the reader, are allowed access into his head. But he is telling the story to us, and since he gets less and less control over his impulses as the book goes on, his status as a reliable narrator becomes more shaky until it explodes in our face.
But if there is something that Winterbottom film is, it's reliable. What's presented to us is a accurately designed 1950's Texas town, the characters and most of the events are taken straight from the pen of Thompson. The awful, gross, and explicit bursts of violence are presented in a straightforward manner. Heck, the only real deviation is the sex scenes, which are shown in great detail, instead of the novel's suggested obviousness.
And that's the problem: it's too obvious! Part of what makes the book of The Killer Inside Me so brilliant is how shaky, flakey, and willing the story is to pull the rug out from under your feet. It's comparable to being on a tightrope, and suddenly finding that the net has vanished. Much of the film is shot in close-ups, but in such a way that it reveals only the external, and not the internal. (except for the last shot, which is just plain pretentious). Though it gives itself the air of a deep film about a psycho, it ends up a distant and surprisingly dull piece of celluloid (or digital...whatever format it was shot in).
One more thing: I first heard of The Killer Inside Me the book, from hearing about the hype from the film before it premired. I thought the story sounded interesting, and finding out that this sordid subject was based on a well-regarded pulp novel from 1950 gave me the inciative to find and read that book. And now it's one of my favorite novels. The film, when I finally got around to seeing it, is a simply a big disappointment. If the story still interests you, do yourself a favor: read the book, skip the film.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
The Great Gatsby (1926)
Since the newest cinematic version of F. Scott Fitzgerald will finally be upon us in May, I thought it would be a good time to reminisce about the first attempt to place this classic of American literature on the screen.
Being a fan of the book myself, I must admit to looking forward to the remake with much anticipation. Justing from the trailers, Baz Luhrmann is up to his old over-the-top tricks again. If there is any filmmaker that comes the closest to imitating the old-school borderline kitschy glamour of studio era Hollywood, with modern trappings, this is the guy. It could be bad, it could be great, but it will definitely be an interesting viewing experience.
But what does it have for competition? Why, four other films of course, starting with a silent!
Released four years after the novel was published, it should be the most aesthetically accurate by default, since it was made in the time period that the book was set. And, judging from a contemporary review from The New York Times, it was a rather faithful adaptation, downbeat ending and all. But how well does it translate to film? Do the actors shine? Is it the definitive movie version?
Alas, it looks like we will never known, because this is a lost film. All that remains is a short trailer that incorporates a few brief shots, and from what I can judge, it looks...okay. I feel kinda hesitant to go further than that, considering what little there is to work with, but the scenes appear to be recreated faithfully. I can't say anything about the actors either, except that Warner Baxter looks strange without a mustache in the flashback with daisy.
One thing that can be said in the film's favor is that what little there remains of the party scenes look fun and hectic, with tons of classic bathings suits and much frolicking. The camera is rather static, but then again this is less than a minute's worth of excerpts so maybe there was more enthusiastic cinematography elsewhere.
Some nice on location work, and some copied scenes from the book are are that remain, and that's disappointing. Perhaps there's a script somewhere that gives a better idea of what the film looks like. Until then, we'll have to make due with the little that we have.
Being a fan of the book myself, I must admit to looking forward to the remake with much anticipation. Justing from the trailers, Baz Luhrmann is up to his old over-the-top tricks again. If there is any filmmaker that comes the closest to imitating the old-school borderline kitschy glamour of studio era Hollywood, with modern trappings, this is the guy. It could be bad, it could be great, but it will definitely be an interesting viewing experience.
But what does it have for competition? Why, four other films of course, starting with a silent!
Released four years after the novel was published, it should be the most aesthetically accurate by default, since it was made in the time period that the book was set. And, judging from a contemporary review from The New York Times, it was a rather faithful adaptation, downbeat ending and all. But how well does it translate to film? Do the actors shine? Is it the definitive movie version?
One thing that can be said in the film's favor is that what little there remains of the party scenes look fun and hectic, with tons of classic bathings suits and much frolicking. The camera is rather static, but then again this is less than a minute's worth of excerpts so maybe there was more enthusiastic cinematography elsewhere.
Some nice on location work, and some copied scenes from the book are are that remain, and that's disappointing. Perhaps there's a script somewhere that gives a better idea of what the film looks like. Until then, we'll have to make due with the little that we have.
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