film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Jack Ford

  • The Burying Party: Review

    The Burying Party: Review

    The name Wilfred Owen may be more familiar to some than others. When his name is first invoked in The Burying Party, each audience member will react in one of three ways: either they’ll be on board straight away, find the name rings a bell, or be none the wiser. However deep your knowledge of the renowned soldier and wartime poet, though, Richard Weston provides a comprehensive and handsomely staged recount of his life, The Burying Party, which caters to all.

    When we first see Owen (played by Matthew Staite) he is back home, recovering from shell shock – as evidenced by the flashbacks he keeps having. He is writing, but his time on the battlefield has left him so timid and unsure of himself, he won’t even share his work with his own mother. All that changes when he meets fellow soldier Siegfried Sassoon (Sid Phoenix).

    Showing an understanding of his mindset, Sassoon encourages Owen to let him read his poems. From this exchange, a bond forms between the pair. Sassoon introduces him a literary circle that includes Robert Graves (Will Burren) and CK Scott Moncrieff (Harry Owens), who Owen starts to form an attachment to. Is it to help get his work published, to use Moncrieff’s connections to stop his redeployment, or is it something more?

    As Owen’s relationship with Moncrieff grows, though, Sassoon becomes concerned. He claims to be fearful of Moncrieff’s influence over Owen and the effect it will have on his poems, but it’s obvious something else is going on.

    https://vimeo.com/260254520

    For the unknowing, while it has never been confirmed, it has long been speculated that Owen and Sassoon were gay, though there is little with which to prove this. The film, understandably, feels the need to address Owen’s private life, but with little historical evidence to go on, it doesn’t really know how to approach the matter. As such, nothing that is explored is really answered.

    The film does well to cover the rest of Owen’s life, in particular his short prominence as a poet. This is clearly an important subject for Weston, and co-writer Laurence Thompson, who have visibly performed extensive research on this period of history to create as definitive a portrait of Owen as possible.

    The effort that has gone into The Burying Party is unquestionable: it’s well-photographed by Meurig Marshall, which is heightened by great attention to period detail – all of which capture the time period with authenticity and accuracy. One element used to great effect in the film is having well-chosen extracts of Owen’s poetry told in voiceover, which help add to the story and give insight into his mindset at the time.

    That being said, the film doesn’t do anything really surprising with its narrative, and by staying on rails it can end up feeling quite effect-less. Whereas we want to get more invested in Owen and Sassoon’s growing relationship, even the uninitiated can tell nothing will come of it. Also problematic is that, while the film tries hard to provide something for all audiences, with its staging and production values it feels most like it’s trying to win over awards juries.

    The Burying Party is a well made film that categorically covers Wilfred Owen’s life in a way that is accessible and of value to all who will see it. However, it’s held back by its overly-familiar structure and by asking more questions than it has the answers for.

  • Get Bond: Quantum Of Solace, 10 Years On

    Get Bond: Quantum Of Solace, 10 Years On

    There was a lot of anticipation around Quantum of Solace, as there is with every James Bond film. This one in particular, though, as the anticipation of seeing the follow up to Casino Royale – the film that brilliantly redefined the series – and was also met with hesitation as to whether this new film could live up to it.

    When it was finally released reaction was lukewarm at best, and venomous at worst. In the time since, it has become something of a pariah, the ignored entry in the Daniel Craig era – but is it deserving of its reputation of being inferior?

    The studio wanted to deliver another James Bond film hot off the heels of Casino Royale‘s success, but that hastiness did not make for an easy birth. Director Marc Foster admitted to production being hampered by a tight schedule and a writer’s guild strike, the latter resulting in the shoot beginning without a finished script. Foster responded by turning the film into “sort of like a 70s revenge movie; very action driven, lots of cuts to hide that there’s a lot of action and a little less story.”

    On that front, Foster is right – Quantum of Solace doesn’t have a story with the same depth as its predecessor, and when a film opens with two chase scenes, it can be easy to start making assumptions about what kind of film it’s going to be. Casino Royale, though, was a hard act to follow, and just because a story is thin doesn’t mean there’s nothing of value in it.

    For example, while the plot is essentially Bond on the trail of a high-value member of an international crime syndicate, it’s what’s going on between the lines that’s interesting. All the while, Bond is feeling conflicted about prior events: part of his drive to see this mission out is to avenge Vesper Lynd, his love interest from Casino Royale. He loved her, but she betrayed him. Is this revenge for her, or for him?

    That’s another thing about Quantum of Solace: it breaks with decades of tradition, where instead of being a standalone story, it picks up exactly where the last film left off. It’s a bold move to break with a long tried-and-tested formula, but by focusing on expanding on the elements and rules of engagement set in the previous film, Quantum of Solace manages, for the most part, to pull it off.

    It also does the same with all the traditional Bond tropes – there is a megalomanical villain, but his plot is realistic. There is a girl at his side, but she has her own character arc. Again, Quantum of Solace picks up where Casino Royale left off in subverting the series’ elements, and paving the way for it to be carried on in the films that follow.

    In terms of story, probably the biggest mis-step here is Gemma Arterton’s Agent Fields. She appears midway through the film as a conquest for Bond before exiting summarily and swiftly. This feels somewhat like an excuse to give a part to Arterton, who was hot property at the time, but more importantly this sub-plot heavily detracts from Bond’s quest to avenge his lost love – if he finds the time to have sex, how much did Vesper really mean to him?

    A more interesting aspect is the film’s villain, Dominic Greene, played by Mathieu Almaric. He shares traits with past Bond villains, in particular Elliot Carver of Tomorrow Never Dies, as well as Goldfinger and Emilio Largo. He is, however, not the cartoony villain of Bond films past.

    His plan is not like that of others, to conquer the world using deadly technology and an army of minions, but instead gain political influence in Bolivia by starting a water conflict. It might not seem like much of a plot, but today water is becoming more of a precious resource and wars for it are more prevalent. Greene is possibly the most down-to-earth Bond villain of them all, and on that level, could be argued to be the most believable.

    Olga Kurylenko in Quantum of Solace
    Olga Kurylenko in Quantum of Solace

    Easily the best thing about Quantum of Solace, though, is Olga Kurylenko as Camille. She is in the place of the traditional Bond girl, but again she is a far cry from those who have come before her. For a start, there is no seemingly no attraction between her and Bond, but there is chemistry – they are both orphaned and are both seeking revenge. In Camille’s case, she wants revenge on Greene’s associate, General Medrano (Joaquin Cosio), who murdered her family.

    She doesn’t want Bond to kill for her, though, she’s more than capable of doing that herself, being former Bolivian secret service. She’s only tagging alongside Bond because he can get her to Medrano. Her time with Bond, though, sees her start to question taking revenge, whether she will be able to go through with it, and if she does, will it bring her peace?

    Both Camille and Bond are on similar paths, and the connection between them that develops is deeper than that of other female Bond companions, maybe even more so than his relationship with Vesper, and their final exchange is one of the most effecting moments of character in a Bond film, as well as being heartbreaking.

    We’ve since had two more Daniel Craig-fronted Bond films since Quantum of Solace, and while this film can not match Skyfall for all-around excitement, tension and drama, it’s a more efficient, well-rounded and consistent film than Spectre, which was overlong and fell back on tradition rather than doing anything particularly new or interesting (and also had the worst torture scene in the history of cinema).

    Quantum of Solace is still not without its problems, but some of those are more the fault of its off-screen hindrances. It can be sad when infighting stops a film reaching its full potential, but when it does happen, it’s admirable to see filmmakers who are able to work around the behind-the-scenes turmoil and deliver a warts-and-all final product that is still comprehensible, entertaining and well made – and it’s there that Marc Foster succeeded.

    It’s not his only success, either, he also delivers some impressive and interesting set pieces, most notably of all the one that takes place during a performance of Tosca. For someone known for more sedate drama films like Monster’s Ball and Finding Neverland, Foster keeps up the pace and builds the tension with skill and ease.

    Perhaps we all spent too much time holding it up to Casino Royale, and later Skyfall, perhaps it was easy to lose track of the story in amongst all the noise. Whatever the reason, Quantum of Solace, while not the greatest Bond film, is a worthy entry of the series.

  • Review: Promise

    Review: Promise

    Promise opens with Hajar (Lara Sawalha), a young middle-eastern woman, arriving at the house of Sarah (Rebecca Callard) and Abe (Nabil Elouahabi), a couple seemingly on the rocks. It’s not made explicitly clear what’s happening to start with, but after glimpses of a pregnancy pamphlet, Hajar’s early-morning vomiting and Sarah’s strap-on belly, it’s easy to work out what’s going on.

    With Hajar being an illegal immigrant, the couple have to keep her hidden in her house for the whole nine months. This of course sees tensions rise, as Sarah grows jealous of seeing Hajar carrying the baby she can’t, as well as her getting more attention from Abe. Just when it seems obvious what’s going to happen, though, there’s a new, unexpected development in the tale. One that changes the path of the story and makes Sarah have to think about breaking her promise to keep Hajar her safe.

    The twist is made all the more striking by the fact that, for the first half of the film, director Neville Pierce and writer Hannah Lee play it as straightforward as possible – though they do drop little hints at what’s to come. Lee is able to tell the story concisely, with dialogue and directions that are low on exposition. Her writing is complimented by Pierce’s use of visuals to tell the story, his style holds the audience’s attention and gives a genuine feel to the film. Together, they turn what could have been a standard melodrama into something more intriguing and tense.

    However, while it is well constructed in terms of plot, it hits all its story beats a little too cleanly. Jumping from one plot point to the next does rob the film of its attempt at a natural, realistic rhythm and feel. What’s more, while it presents both the issues of surrogacy and the plight of a refugee well, neither is really probed too deeply and nothing particularly new is brought to either debate.

    There’s also some disparity in the balance between Sarah and Hajar’s character arcs – if they are found out, one is facing far worse consequences than the other.

    It’s easier to feel more sympathy for Hajar, as her situation is more desperate and dangerous, and Sawalha does well in her performance of a woman who is, at the same time, dealing with being in an unusual situation and environment, the physical and emotional challenges of her pregnancy and the more serious issues that surround it. Her final scene in the film is particularly effecting. The film may want us to feel ambivalent towards Sarah, but by the end, there’s not as much emotional weight to want to get on her side.

    The construction, craft and technical ability of Promise is easy to admire while watching it. It’s well-made and thought-provoking, but it won’t keep you thinking about it for long once its over.

  • #BRWC10: Review – The Silent Child

    #BRWC10: Review – The Silent Child

    2018’s Oscar winning short film.  Reposted from January this year, as part of #BRWC10.

    From the start, it’s not immediately obvious what The Silent Child is about. It opens with a woman riding a bike down country lanes to a slow and mysterious piece of music, which immediately creates a sense of unease. Is that an indication of what’s to come? (In short, no.)

    It transpires the cyclist, Jo (Rachel Shenton, who also wrote the film), is travelling to the family home of three-year-old Libby (Maisie Sly), who is deaf. Jo is there to assess Libby’s needs and begin teaching her sign language ahead of her starting school. While normally quite inanimate and stoic because of her inability to communicate, Libby’s personality changes dramatically as she gets to grips with fingerspelling, and at the same time she starts to form a close bond with Jo.

    As she does, however, her mum (Rachel Fielding) starts growing concerned. She wants to wean Libby off sign language and get her used to lip-reading, but with no obvious reason for doing so. Maybe she feels her position is being threatened, maybe she doesn’t like the stigma of being seen fingerspelling. Whatever the reason, her increasing hostility to accept that her daughter needs help makes her highly resistant to Jo and her

    The film does well to portray the isolation of deafness and how a disability in a family can cause friction – which will resonate to anyone with any experience of this – but unfortunately its ending lets it down. While it’s the most realistic conclusion to events, the tone of the film hints that something more unexpected is coming, and it’s somewhat disappointing when it doesn’t.

    Also, there are other plot elements introduced – Libby’s real parentage, tension in the family caused by Jo’s presence – that would be worth exploring but are ultimately ignored, which makes you wonder why they were introduced to begin with.

    On a technical level, The Silent Child is very well photographed by Ali Farahani, whose crisp visuals help to convey the realism of the film as well as drawing us in. At the same time, a convicted and anchoring performance from Shenton adds much integrity and earnestness to the film. It’s obvious, from her performance and her script, that this is subject matter very important to her, and she’s giving it her all.

    Against the film, however, is Amir Konjani’s score, which feels out of place. The Silent Child is in essence a quiet true-to-life drama with a dark undertone, but it has the accompanying music of a thriller. It’s easy to get the wrong idea of what to think and expect from the film from its score.

    The film ends with the startling statistic that more than three-quarters of deaf children have no support at school, and it’s admirable of the film to try and bring attention to a worthwhile cause. The Silent Child has heart and is thought-provoking, which is enough to transcend its imperfections and make a viewing more than worthwhile.

  • #NYAFF 2018: Tears Of The Black Tiger

    #NYAFF 2018: Tears Of The Black Tiger

    It’s no wonder why Tears of the Black Tiger is a cult favourite. A product of the Thai New Wave movement of the late nineties and early noughts, writer/director Wisit Sasanatieng’s film is madcap, frantic and, though billed as a western, is a thoroughly unrecognisable example of the genre – but is very much aware of the fact.

    Sasanatieng said in interview the film was partly a reaction to Thai audiences’ apparent distaste for homegrown cinema. This does explain the vast homages to westerns from the likes of Sergio Leone and Howard Hawks, as well as nods to 1953’s From Here to Eternity and the works of John Woo and Quentin Tarantino. Yet even with all the allusions to its outside influences, Sasanateing still manages to give Tears of the Black Tiger a distinctive, uniquely Thai feeling.

    Chartchai Ngansam plays the Black Tiger of the title, a sharp-shooting enforcer for gang boss Fai (Sombat Metanee). When we first see him, he and his associate Mahesuan (Supakron Kitsuwon, sporting a knowingly fake moustache) enter the house of a rival gang member and Black Tiger pulls off a gun shot so improbable and cool, the film shows it again in slow motion just to emphasise how improbable and cool it was.

    Apparently jealous of Black Tiger’s rising stock in the gang, Mahesuan approaches him as he is playing harmonica against a painted backdrop and challenges him to a duel. Black Tiger can not be beaten in a quick draw, but he spares Mahesuan’s life, and the two then proceed to swear a blood oath in a Buddhist temple and get drunk on wine.

    Through flashback, we get to see what Black Tiger was like as a young man, and he couldn’t have been more different. He was an unassuming boy named Dum who was not prone to violence, but a moment of tragedy led him to pick up a shotgun, where it turned out he was a natural. Fai recognises his shooting talents and helps him exact the revenge he wanted, but at the price of becoming a wanted outlaw.

    Meanwhile, tying the film together is Rumpoey (Stella Malucchi), who, as a young girl, had her heart won by Dum. Though he did have feelings for her, Dum was reluctant to act on them because of the large wealth gap between them, despite Rumpoey’s frequent admissions of affection. As his new life as Black Tiger begins, Dum disappears, leaving Rumpoey heartbroken. In her grief, and believing she will never see him again, she agrees to marry Kumjorn (Arawat Ruangvuth), the local chief of police and, coincidentally, the man tasked with catching Black Tiger.

    In between the major story elements are the film’s marquee moments of madness, which include include moments told through song, shootouts with missiles, and kill shots that are equally ingenious, elaborate and baffling. It’s clear that Sasanatieng is a director not afraid to try anything, and Tears of the Black Tiger’s self-awareness and low-budget ingenuity gives him great scope to do so.

    Falling into that sensibility is Fai’s gang, who all wear Stetsons and neckerchiefs, carry revolves and ride horses – the only thing recognisably western in this otherwise modern landscape. The clothing, weaponry and transport of every other character is modern, and the colour scheme uses a lot more vibrant pinks and blues over the more rugged tones of a traditional western. There is also no internal explanation for why Fai’s gang operates this way, which makes it all the more amusing.

    While this film’s aesthetic is not overly-recognizable as a western, its themes of redemption, individual heroics and lost love are all in-keeping with the genre. What’s more, Sasanatieng also finds time to address more pressing issues, such as class warfare and the failings of upholding outdated societal values and conventions. After all the absurdity, it’s a little bit surprising to see that behind its giddy exterior there is a (somewhat) sensible side to the film.

    On initial release, Tears of the Black Tiger was a hit outside of Thailand, receiving critical acclaim and becoming the country’s first entry to Cannes. However, the film was cut by its international distributor Miramax in an attempt to broaden its appeal (Harvey Weinstein’s evil knows no bounds). That didn’t work. The version available today is not the original version, but is still very much worth seeking out.

    Tears of the Black Tiger is showing at New York’s Walter Reade Theatre on July 5th as part of the New York Asian Film Festival. It is also available on DVD from Magnolia Pictures.