Author: BRWC

Where do you draw the line between self-confidence and perhaps possessing an overly-inflated sense of self-worth? Lincoln-based independent film company Quandary Productions offers creative insight into this question with their fourth feature film production, the aptly named Narcissist.

Shot over 4 weekends and with a production budget of £2000, Narcissist is an anti-romantic comedy that follows the friendship of aspiring actors Leonard (Michael Henry) and Nathan (Tom Bridger) as they delve into the art of picking-up women and collecting a stack of victory phone-numbers in the process.

Written, directed, edited and produced by starring actor Michael Henry, Narcissist is an interesting exploration of what happens when the human psyche goes AWOL. Despite the title of the film, Narcissist perhaps impresses most in how it, ironically, has a very down-to-earth script that plays out as very genuine and natural in its content.

When we first meet main character Leonard, he has recently split up with his girlfriend and is struggling to launch his acting career. Due to Leonard’s incredibly uncharismatic persona and the perhaps unfortunate geeky connotations conjured from his name by hit sitcom The Big Bang Theory, one also may begin to think that there is no hope for him. Humour and the opposite side of the personality-wheel comes along in the form of quirky best-friend Nathan, who, unlike Leonard, often pursues a string of successful one-night stands and also appears to be successful in his acting career. Unhappy and understandably hurt from the knowledge of his ex-girlfriend moving on from their split, Leonard decides to attend a master-class for picking up women and convinces a reluctant Nathan to come along with him.

The art of picking-up women is definitely not one to be underestimated in this 92 minute feature, as will be proved by the enigmatically named pick-up guru ‘Enigma’. Leonard is taught by the guru to basically craft an entirely new persona for himself and to stand-out from the crowd in terms of dress-code and personal grooming. As Enigma wears a bright green suit-jacket and a white Frank Sinatra-esque hat, let’s hope he takes no fashion inspiration from him. In somewhat Lord Sugar in The Apprentice boardroom style, Enigma repeatedly asks a deflated Leonard why he is actually there to see him and then, upon Leonard’s response, angrily tells him that he doesn’t care about his life story. This tough-love approach inspires a montage of Enigma mentoring Leonard in his quest to reinvent himself, a segment that would be reminiscent of ladies-man mentor Ryan Gosling in Crazy, Stupid, Love if Enigma were perhaps 30 years younger, stylish and of course had the ability to make young women swoon with the drop of a t-shirt.

As Leonard continues to mold himself into Lord of the pick-ups, he progressively gains a lot more attention from women, however he also progressively transforms into more of a budding megalomaniac as his one-night stand quota steadily continues to rack up. Due to the majority of Leonard’s attention now going into accumulating phone-numbers, fluffing his hair and learning more from guru Enigma, it’s unsurprising that his relationship with best friend Nathan begins to suffer. Despite the obvious shift in Nathan and Leonard’s friendship, Nathan’s days of one-night stands now appear to be over as he begins to develop a relationship; however he does have an awful lot of awkward conversations with random by-passers about the apparent halt in his acting career.

Commendation should be given to the script as being highly impressive in how it conveys a very natural and unforced dialogue throughout, which is somewhat tricky given the dramatic premise of the story. The script also gives life to some well-executed character arcs, proving that the characters are certainly not one-dimensional in both personality and purpose.

With a small main cast, the acting is equally consistent and is even impressively understated at times. At first glance the character Nathan could appear to serve as comedic cannon-fodder, however actor Tom Bridger in fact begins to incorporate great personality and likeability to his character with every scene he is featured in.

The direction featured in Narcissist is also impressive in how it includes a large amount of static shots that are able to serve incredibly well in conveying the thematic intensity of the film through allowing the script to take centre-stage with no quick camera movements or distractions. Also, the camera-positioning of some silent shots can be seen as an intelligent reflection of the character’s moods, in particular the character Leonard who appears to spend a large amount of screen-time either standing or sitting in a very dark and brooding manner.

The soundtrack, created by the conveniently named Sebastian Moody, works well to provide a dark and somewhat sinister underscore that runs throughout the film. Neither overbearing or non-purposeful, Moody’s soundtrack certainly compliments the gritty psychological nature of Narcissist and is also impressive in it being all original music created by the composer.

While there is no doubt that Narcissist is a thoroughly interesting and enjoyable take on modern romantic interactions and human relationships,  its dialogue-heavy script and intense psychological subject matter could perhaps be seen as too overbearing for some casual film viewers. However, due to the script in fact being heavily impressive itself and also the talented cast featured throughout, Narcissist is certainly a feature you should consider indulging yourself in.

Three friends head out on a journey or discovery and sex. Great another sex romp about three geeky guys who haven’t lost their virginity. What’s that you say? They’re disabled. Well… That changes things doesn’t it. This will be a most powerful study of triumph of adversity.

Yes I’m being sarcastic. But truthfully that’s kind of what I thought Come As You Are (originally titled Hasta La Vista) when I read the synopsis. Happily the film turns out to be better than both those descriptions would have you think. Philip (Robrecht Vanden Thoren), Lars (Gilles De Schrijver) and Jozef (Tom Audenaert); three friends who connect over women and discussions about their respective disabilities. Philip is a paraplegic, Lars is wheel chair bound due to a brain tumour and Jozef is blind. The film lays it’s premise out swiftly after the opening titles showing two buxom ladies jogging across a beach in slow motion all whilst Philip looks on admiringly. He decides that he’s tired of being a bored virgin and proposes a road trip across Europe which will eventually see them pop their cherries via any number of brothels. The set ups is all there for a bordy Sex Trip style film but director Geoffrey Enthoven is keen to show that there things aren’t as simple in real life as jumping in a mini van and getting involved in hi-jinks.

Firstly the group must convince their parents who are naturally concerned about letting their disabled children loose in Europe. They convince them by saying it’s a cultural trip involving wine tasting. Before the trip begins Lars hears that his brain tumour is worsening and has only a short time left. Defying their parents wishes they head off with their driver Clause (Isabelle de Hertogh), a large French lady who they have mistaken on the phone for a man with an effeminate voice. So Come As You Are becomes something of a ticking clock drama as the boys try to reach their goal of seeing more of the world and more of women whilst Lars is still capable.

There are a lot of the usual road trip tropes. The group get into trouble with other tourists, they fall out amongst themselves, they make up, fall out again over women, there are constant threats to derail their journey. There are genuinely funny moments and some very bleak moments concerning mortality and disability. Come As You Are never shirks away from showing the limitations that these young men have to overcome but neither does it overly dwell on them. Much like an early episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry David points out that even people in wheelchairs can be rude, Philip is painted at times as very dis-likable. Frustrated by his condition he lashes out at friends with venom whenever he feels slighted but has no problem with his own double-standards. De Schrivjer as Lars stands out in particular as heart breaking. Almost angelic in looks he is the embodiment of a life cut short through the betrayal of his own body.

The third acts starts to feel a bit reminiscent of Sideways and Little Miss Sunshine as the foursome group together to enjoy their last hurrah, once on the run from their know knowing parents. All four lead actors are excellent and a film which I had misgivings of before turned out to be a very rewarding watch. Surprisingly funny, touching and in one scene in particular quite harrowing Come As You Are is one of those lovely surprises that greatly exceeds your expectations.

In the space of just five years writer/director Sadao Yamanaka made twenty four films. Although he worked primarily in jidaigeki films he easily jumped between genre from slapstick to samurai adventures to chamber dramas. His career was tragically cut short after being drafted into the army and dying in a field hospital in China. Today only three films remain in their full form. The Masters of Cinema line has packaged these three films along with fascinating snippets of scenes from two other films.

The Million Ryo Pot (1935) – The earliest of these films is a light-hearted romp involving all kinds of shenanigans over a valuable pot that shows a map to booty of gold (personally I would prefer a gold booty but each to his own). The residents of a small township fumble over themselves as the the titular pot keeps changing hands between families who sell or steal it not realizing it’s worth. Into the action comes a one-eyed ronin, who certainly fits the mold as an early Yojimbo figure as he takes charge of a young boy and his peasant family who guard the pot. It’s a pleasant film that’s an easy watch but I doubt it would have been remembered as one of Yamanaka’s greats had he lived on. The humour, as with much of 30/40s Japanese cinema very broad. Gurning and arm flailing are in high abandoned.

K ochiyama  S oshun (1936) – Whilst it’s wonderful that this film still exists at all, the original reel used for the transfer was obviously highly damaged. The visual and sound quality are as scracthey as a well worn vinyl of Dark Side of the Moon. A darker film than Ryo Pot. It’s a intimate play-style drama about a samurai’s missing knife. Similar to Kurosawa’s later Stray Dog, it deals with the fall out politically and socially of a weapon. Despite the thin plot thread the pacing is well observed and the film showcases flare for staging and camera direction.

Humanity and Paper Balloons (1937) – Now considered Yamanaka’s greatest work, existing or otherwise, Humanity and Paper Balloons was Yamanaka’s final film. Delving darker into the dark side of samurai culture, it’s a far cry from the frothiness of Ryo Pot. The film takes the myth of the mysterious, heroic samurai and brings them down to Earth to show that they are weak and fallible like the rest of us. Opening at the funeral of a ronin who has committed suicide we are introduced to Unno, another masterless Samurai. He is broke and out of work and looking to use his skills in way he can. The film charts his desperate search for purpose in a society where everybody is to concerned with making their own way. Again the film recalls one of Kurosawa’s later works The Lower Depths by showing a cavalcade of societies misfits and down-and-outters who are only trying to survive. The desperate living leads Unno to make a drastic decision which leads to an ending that I found genuinely shocking despite the films age. It’s a shame that the film has not garnered wider recognition in the West as it deserves to be put up there with the early great of Japanese cinema. It demonstrates a slightness of hand not present in Million Ryo Pot, proofing that Yamanaka was a man of great evolving talent and a genre chameleon. Even the two snippets of lost films included in the extras showcase that he was a man who could handle an action scene. Showing out and out brawls between samurai’s and henchmen.

Million Ryo Pot and K ochiyama S oshun are precious gems for lovers of Japanese cinema. Despite not being compulsive viewing the fact they remain in existence is cause for celebration. Humanity and Paper Balloons though is a next level affair. Gripping, often chilling drama it could certainly be considered a template for the later works of Ozu and if that’s not recommendation enough I don’t know what else to say.

Dimention Zero is an unfocused, poorly-paced, wildly self-indulgent piece of filmic navel-gazing that bored me rigid within 10 minutes of watching it. Unfortunately, it seems very much designed to be that way.

The debut feature of director Andrew MacKenzie, Dimention Zero is the second feature made under the Pink8 manifesto, an anti-establishment, anti-conventional rulebook of film-making which imposes limits on directors such as “filming must be done without any preparation or a traditional script”, “your film must be 95% improvised” and “the cast must NOT know what your film is about.” Working within these parameters, MacKenzie’s film is 70% a loose-weave documentary about art, the meaning of life, the scottish youth culture and a myriad other themes, mostly filmed at raves, music festivals and on various city streets of Scotland and 30% an abstract narrative about a man (played by the director – another Pink8 rule) being freed from a life of dystopian repetition by spotting a pretty woman and dancing with her or something. It’s wilfully unclear.

The manifesto restrictions placed upon the film – originated by Italian film-maker Fabrizio Federico whose film Black Biscuit is the premiere Pink8 production – finish by stating that “bewildering, vague, self-indulgent, plot-less, risky, egotistical, limpid, raw, ugly, and imperfect are perfect” and that film-makers must “answer to only one person – yourself” (whilst paradoxically not breaking a single one of Federico’s incredibly limiting rules it seems) all of which serves to make Dimention Zero frustratingly critic-proof.

Whether I agree or not with the ethos of Pink8 (for the record: I do not. I prefer directors to know what kind of story they’re telling or point they’re making before they pick up the camera) it’s hard to deny that there’s some compelling footage in Dimention Zero – mostly of the Scottish underground music scene – but any interest generated by the film is quickly dissolved by the aimlessness of the direction. The main body of the piece lumbers from one segment of handheld footage to another, most accompanied by a different non-actor opining on a issue of some kind. These range from nuclear disarmament, to youthful apathy, to how everyone in the world is ignorant, to what is art, all with zero connective tissue, edited without any overarching message in mind, which creates a jarring mess of discordant sentiment. Is the film about Scottish culture, all culture? Is it about everything? Is it about nothing? Ironically, the film is rammed full of passionate voices, but doesn’t have one itself.

Perhaps the most telling segment of all is a talking-head of a man who opines “Art is everything around us. (picking up a blade of grass) That is art. (pointing to a cloud formation) That is art. … We’re art. You’re art… if you believe you’re art, you’re art, baby. That’s all you need to know.” This spirit seems to resonate throughout Dimention Zero, MacKenzie never crafting his footage into an artistic statement of his own, but rather remaining content to simply point his camera at something happening and, trusting in something’s existence being its own artistic merit, plops it in front of the audience and goes “see? … Art.” At one point a topless woman takes a bath in Irn-Bru. Art. The film opens with 15 minutes of recycled footage of a man poaching an egg. Art. The film-maker confesses “for a great deal of the shooting I was drunk or under the influence of ecstasy.” Knock knock. Who’s there? Art. Art Who? Silence…

Experimental film is the culture of film-making in which it’s most important to remember to be subjective, that artistic value can be only be properly judged by a single viewer at a time, and with this in mind I was going to tentatively recommend Dimention Zero, just because it’s fascinating in its tediousness. However, that was before a despicably manipulative segment towards the film’s conclusion, which presented a pseudo-profound monologue being read over footage of dancers with mental disorders. Using footage of people with Down’s Syndome to add philosophical weight to a vague, ill-defined point about art is exploitation at its ugliest and was the point that I decided to not be charitable to this tosh.

It doesn’t feel pleasant to attack the debut work of a young director and I do not deny that the Pink8 agenda has the potential to great art of great interest, but presenting its film-makers with their own ‘get-out-of-criticism-free card’ is something I find directly provocative, especially when the film-making in discussion is so sloppy and generalised. Sometimes imperfect isn’t perfect.