Author: BRWC

The A Plate is a straightforward enough romantic comedy from independent filmmaker Terre Weisman. Jay (Shane Jacobsen) is the sales manager at a car dealership, but has his eye on the top job, the dealer, which would earn him the apparently coveted ‘A plate’ for his car. Through some slightly harebrained scheming he pits the husband and wife owners against each other in the hopes of coming out on top, but along the way ends up falling in love with their daughter, Andrea (Julie Ann Emery).

At its best, the film is innocuous enough, simply another forgettable entry in a competitive genre, hitting predictable rom-com plot beats along with an all-too-familiar redemptive story. The used car dealership setting and ‘A plate’ conceit seem like they might serve as a novel twist, but beyond an introductory voiceover acknowledging the oddity of a passion for dealing cars, little is done to discuss or explain Jay’s fixation on the ‘A plate’.

The film’s comedy mostly falls flat, betrayed by a limp script and an almost complete absence of comic timing from the leads and director alike. Sam McMurray is wasted as the dealership’s owner, but does his best with difficult material. The film’s few chuckles come Jay’s dementia-dappled grandfather (Angelo Nargi), who is possessed of an energy and lightness of touch absent in his younger counterparts.

Once again, ugly gender politics rear their head, with extensive jokes about the ‘slutty’ receptionist and overweight accountant hinging largely on which men they will or won’t have sex with (and which will or won’t have sex with them). Regardless of being borderline offensive, this for the most part is just plain lazy. The A Plate is a film in which whipped cream is sprayed onto a man’s genitals at least three times, and implied a few more – an act which is no more funny the first time than the last.

There’s unfortunately little to recommend in The A Plate. There’s no shortage of similar films that pack more laughs in their first five minutes than The A Plate manages throughout its running time. Watch one of them instead.

Part of the broader ‘Exhibition on Screen’ series, The Impressionists: And the Man Who Made Them is a thoughtful, informative documentary which aims to bring to the big screen not only the beautiful artworks of the Impressionist movement, but also the story of how that movement found its remarkable success.

The film attempts to capture an exhibition which debuted in Paris’s Musée du Luxembourg last October, is currently on display in London’s National Gallery and will next appear in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Director Phil Grabsky visits the curators and their teams in each of the museums to get insight not only into the paintings and their history but also into the process of putting on an exhibition of this scale.

What makes The Impressionists stand out is its focus, derived from the exhibition, not on the Impressionist artists themselves but rather on Paul Durand-Ruel, the collector and art dealer who brought them to light, and modernised the art world in doing so. Durand-Ruel was almost single-handedly responsible for financing Monet, Manet, Renoir, Cézanne and more, repeatedly bringing himself to the brink of financial ruin in the process. Through his perseverance, the Impressionists were given the praise and attention they undoubtedly deserved.

Alongside the curators appear an assortment of talking heads, luminaries from across the worlds of art history and criticism, here to offer insight into Durand-Ruel’s striking and little-known impact on the art world. The commentary offered is typically illuminating, though the film’s editing occasionally results in some unfortunate repetition, as commentators express similar views and explanations – a problem that more judicious trimming of interview footage might have solved.

The Durand-Ruel narrative is told through a combination of journal entries and letters, with gaps filled in by the array of commentators, and outlines the Impressionists’ journey from little known artistic upstarts through to their eventual worldwide renown, driven throughout by Durand-Ruel’s financial assistance and connections.

It’s an intriguing story, and the narrative hook provides the film with much of its interest, but the focus on Durand-Ruel does at times leave the Impressionists themselves sorely neglected. The bare minimum of time is devoted to lives of the artists, which is understandable, but more frustrating is the lack of discussion of the artworks themselves. Impressionism’s historical context is given extensive discussion, but its artistic qualities are largely neglected – a detailed understanding of the style perhaps assumed in its audience.

Fortunately, while Grabsky may not devote much time to discussion of the paintings, he’s happy to let his camera to pore over them, with lengthy still, steady-focus shots giving the audience the chance to soak in the view. Wide-angle shots present the paintings as wholes, within the context of the wider exhibition, while exquisite closeups offer the chance to examine every brush stroke in minute detail. The paintings may be presented without comment, but even to the untrained eye these are all surely masterpieces, the exhibition representing an almost comprehensive collection of some of Impressionism’s finest works.

Inevitably, it’s here that The Impressionists really succeeds. As a chance to appreciate astonishing art from the comfort of one’s home (or nearest arthouse cinema), it’s a marvellous opportunity for those unable to visit the collection in the flesh. The focus may be squarely on the history of the art, rather than a critical discussion, but that all pales next to the sight of Monet’s brushwork on a bloody big cinema screen.

Not since last year’s “Her” have I been so hoodwinked by a seemingly hipster Rom-Com, directed by Charlie McDowell (Malcom’s lad) and starring Mark Duplass and Elisabeth Moss as a couple who have lost their spark and under advice from their Therapist (Ted Danson – Charlie’s step dad, the money the lad must have saved on casting, his mum – Mary Steenburgen is in there somewhere as well!) go to his little holiday home retreat to rekindle what they once had.

So far………..yeah, I know, all sounds a bit middle class California doesn’t it? To go too far into detail of what follows would pull the rug from underneath your viewing of something that more than most releases, deserves to be seen fresh so I’ll not go down that path, nor shall I talk about what high concept genre additions were welcomed and what were a little over-egging in the pudding department.

Safe ground is the performances, working from a mostly improvised script from Justin Lader, Moss and Duplass go above and beyond what would usually be expected from such fare and never drift off into caricature. Some niggles about the climax but it’s a contained little sleeper that is way too warm and clever to ruin and well worth checking out.

4/5

Pops.

Some Like It Not

Having heard the recent “The Craft” reboot news, I figured I’d give some of the other 90’s teen movies and see if they stood the test of time. Long after our beloved John Hughes strayed from the path of 80’s greatness and was churning out rent payers like “Curly Sue” and “Dennis”, there were others ready to claim his mantle. Allan Moyle had previously directed Christian Slater starring teen angst sleeper “Pump Up The Volume” and was clearly looking to lighten the decor up a bit with this cracking bit of nonsense. Within the first 5 Minutes, our hero – Lucas, has taken the day’s takings from his Record Shop workplace and in an attempt to save it from Corporate takeover, goes to Atlantic City:

High Roller: That’s an 18,000 dollar bet, you sure you know what you’re doin kid?
Lucas: I know this, that if I win this roll I will save the place that I work from being sold, and the jobs of my friends that work there. Thus striking a blow at all that is evil and making this world a better place to be in.
Lady at Craps Table: Huh?
Lucas: …And I’ll buy you guys a drink.

He loses it all and the Empire Records workforce have to raise the money by the end of the business day as well as contend with mock funerals, teen love, Celebrity appearances, Rooftop performances and shoplifters.

That’s it, pretty bare bones but for all it lacks in emotional and storytelling heft it more than makes up for in humour and charm. The soundtrack alone is worth sitting through and is one of the most overlooked of the 90’s but seeing the cast (Liv Tyler,Renèe Zellweger, Rory Cochrane and SLIN favourite Ethan Embry mostly in mind here) looking so bloody Young is a somewhat bittersweet practise.

Great as a nostalgic look back but still not entirely sure whether it’s really that great or whether modern teen flicks are just arse……….nope, I’m all in, it’s a bloody master stroke of 90’s nonsense. Post script: “The Craft” really hasn’t aged well. Arse biscuits.

4.5/5

Pops.

Good horror is thin on the ground these days, a mate asked me to recommend a decent horror film to him and……..right, well first things first: There’s this teenage girl ( “The Guest”‘s Maika Monroe) that sleeps with this lad from her neighbourhood and shortly after, she’s chloroformed up and bundled off where the lad tells her she’s now sort of “Cursed” by this weird unstoppable, murderous force, disguised as anyone and the only way to rid herself of it is to pass it on…….through sex.

High on concept and low on budget, David Robert Mitchell’s latest has been divisive to say the least, a lot like last year’s “The Babbadook” , it gives out what you put in as a viewer. If you want a think piece on promiscuity…….it’s in there. If you want a John Carpenter/David Cronenberg aping coming of age horror…….in there as well. One thing it definitely isn’t…is something we’re used to as modern audiences, bravely light on jump-scares and liberally chucking about symbolism.

The beautifully dreamy and haunting score from “DisasterPeace” was the standout star for me the first viewing but upon second and third, the cinematography is what adds the extra layers of dread. With the knowledge that anybody could be a monster at any time ( see! He knows what he’s doing.), everybody in the frame becomes the threat and is used as a tool to unsettle.

The Carpenter/Cronenberg vibes play strong throughout but the relentless dread of the threat has an air of the George A. Romero era zombies that continues to creep, crawl and slither under your skin like all good horror should.

I ended up recommending “VHS” to him, some people are beyond saving.