Marc Meyers’ 2017 biographical drama ‘My Friend Dahmer’ documents the year before American serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer began the killing spree that made him one of the most infamous murderers in history. Before this point, he was a high school senior, whose behaviour was becoming more and more bizarre and antisocial. The film doesn’t try to pinpoint the root of the problem, or excuse what he later came to do, but instead takes us on a moving and incredibly disturbing journey of a simultaneous entry into adulthood and descent into madness.
The film is based on the graphic novel by John Backderf, a cartoonist who formed a kind of friendship with Dahmer in their last year of high school, and made him somewhat of an infamous figure in their senior year.
Jeffrey Dahmer, played with a haunting awkwardness by Ross Lynch, is a kind of unfunny Napoleon Dynamite figure. He walks through the school halls, with his hunched posture and shuffling gait, for the most part unnoticed. That is until a budding cartoonist classmate, John ‘Derf’ Backderf, sees something in Dahmer that inspires him. His new friends encourage him to spontaneously break out in a deranged frenzy in different locations, shouting and convulsing in a fashion that they later refer to as ‘doing a Dahmer’. Soon, the laughter dies down and Dahmer begins drinking heavily and acting more and more strangely to try and squeeze out the laughs and attention from his peers that he has begun to enjoy. What they don’t know is that behind closed doors, Dahmer is dissolving animals in acid in his makeshift science lab, and stalking people in bushes with baseball bats.
Throughout the film we know that his killing obsession will at some point progress from animals to humans, but the film is not about that. This story ends just before he commits his first murder. It is more concerned with the signs that, after the fact, everyone wished they had noticed at the time.
The film is shot beautifully in Ohio, capturing the picturesque surroundings and the style of the 70s. Alex Wolff is brilliant as Derf, and there is an incredibly tense and memorable scene in which the realisation kicks in for Derf that his comical pal could actually be hiding something much more sinister. It’s an uncomfortable watch, but it is a fascinating study of a teenager dealing with feelings of isolation, budding homosexuality, and his erratic home life. It will leave you feeling uneasy, but it’s a unique biopic and one that takes a look at a part of a killer’s life that is often ignored.
Matt Schrader’s debut feature, ‘Score: A Film Music Documentary’, is an exploration into the creative process of the musical accompaniment to the most iconic cinema that we know and love. It follows the journey from the live accompaniment of the Wurlitzer organ in the silent movie era, which was needed to cover up the sound of the projectors in cinemas, to the big band orchestral scores of our 20th and 21st century epics. We hear from some of the geniuses behind the music, such as Hans Zimmer, Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor, and some of the best known directors, including Spielberg and Cameron, all giving us a window into the intertwined nature of this aspect of filmmaking.
Whilst this isn’t a particularly educational documentary, it is good for someone with little to no idea of what it takes to create a music score, and perhaps without the intention of learning the technicalities behind the process. We can, however, all appreciate the awe inspiring simplicity of the Jaws theme, and that the shower scene in Hitchcock’s Psycho would not invoke the same feelings of terror had it not been accompanied by Herrmann’s screeching strings (a fact stated somewhat obviously by one of our interviewees). An interesting additional viewpoint is of a psychologist, who discusses the scientific side of film music, and the effect that a score has on the human brain, including an explanation into the cause of goose bumps.
Most welcome are some of the most successful composers in history talking about their feeling of immense anxiety and pressure that come around when a big deadline is approaching. Hans Zimmer ends the documentary with some powerful words, confiding that when he plays a piece of his music, “I really expose myself, and that’s a really scary moment”. It is almost impossible to imagine the blood, sweat and tears poured into these scores, and the fear that must mount as the release date creeps closer, but it is comforting to know that these creative geniuses also have intense feelings of fear and inadequacy!
One thing this feature could have used is fewer examples and more in depth focus on some of the films mentioned. Sometimes, it felt as if it was rushing to get through as many instances of iconic scores as it possibly could, and just when we feel excited at the mention of Jaws or another score significant to the viewer, it is torn away rather abruptly and the film leapt relentlessly to the next section.
The subject matter of this documentary is vital, it raises the issues of the growing technological world and the subsequent jeopardy that puts the orchestral bands in. A lot of the composers express their concerns, for example Hans Zimmer highlights his feeling that the disappearance of the orchestra would leave a massive hole in today’s culture, a statement that is difficult to argue with. However, it seems the importance of live recording is still cherished in the film music world, so hopefully it won’t be going anywhere just yet.
This film is highly recommendable to people who are looking to see a lot of their favourite scores briefly explained, but would perhaps warn the aspiring composer that it may not provide as much information as they might hope for. It is enjoyable nonetheless, mainly due to the abundance of clips from iconic films and a rare look at the extraordinary locations and instruments that are combined to create the sounds that are so imperative to our cinema-going experience.
Lady Bird has got to be one of the most relatable films I’ve seen in years. There’s no big adventure, there’s no explosions, no life changing romances and mysteries needing to be solved. It’s just a simple, real, down-to-earth story. Christine “Lady Bird” McPherson is a teenage girl living her last year of high school out. The future seems uncertain. She’s an aspiring arts student who’s still looking for her niche. Her family is poor and therefore cannot afford the universities that she wishes to go to. She’s wanting to get in with the popular crowd, despite her friend being happy where they are in life. She’s discovering love for the first time. And while all of this is happening, Lady Bird is constantly at odds with her mother.
Lady Bird is one of those films that clearly came from a place of passion. You could even argue that it could be biographical in a way. While I’m sure that not everything happened in real life, the film’s writer/director, actress Greta Gerwig clearly has taken elements from her own experiences and brought them into this film. To say that this is Gerwig’s first film – well, okay she co-directed a couple things before hand – it’s all very impressive.
I don’t know what I’d call Lady Bird. It’s funny, but not a comedy. It’s very dramatic, but also has a reliance on said humour. It’s light-hearted, but it tackles some complex and dark issues. But, unlike some of these genre defying films, this one feels like it’ll speak to everyone on some level. Even if we take out the dialogue entirely – which is exceptionally well-written and natural sounding – the actions that these characters do alone are very reminiscent of what we have all done. Nearer the end, when Lady Bird turns eighteen she buys scratch cards, a porno mag and cigarettes – I remember when I turned eighteen I bought the goriest thing in my local DVD shop and downed the first pint I’d bought. It’s small and somewhat inconsequential to the over all story, but the moments like these are what stand out and make Lady Bird really special.
There’s something very artful about the way that Lady Bird was shot. It doesn’t exactly feel dreamlike – I’d say it feels more nostalgic. It’s set in the years 2002 and 2003 and it feels like it. It doesn’t slap you around the head with that fact, there’s no “remember this” moment. It just plays like it’s 2002. Terrorism was still on the mind and mobile phones were very brick-like and were a point of paranoia and confusion. It does also feel nostalgic in that “remember high school” way. Again, it’s all matter of fact. There’s no scary teacher, soft tutor or over-the-top bully. It’s just school and the kids in it doing what we all as kids did. It does bring you back to, maybe not better (I know I hated my school years) but simpler times.
But I’ve just been avoiding the best part of Lady Bird, and that is the performances. Saoirse Ronan has almost constantly been the best part of any film that she has been a part of. Even if it’s been bad – like with Peter Jackson’s The Lovely Bones – she has always been great. Not good, great! This could easily be the best performance that she’s ever given to this day. Playing her mother is Laurie Metcalf, who most will recognise as Sheldon’s mother in The Big Bang Theory, but I’ll always remember as the killer in Scream 2. Again, this is the best performance that Metcalf has ever given. She and Ronan are on par with each other. The acting is great all around – it’s too early to say but I think we’ll struggle to see a better acted film all year – but it’s these two who deserve the most attention.
A lot happens in the film, but it’s heart is exactly where it should be, with Lady Bird and her mother. Theirs is a strong relationship, but not happy one. Most of the time they spend together ends with an argument. This is usually brought on by one of them saying the wrong thing in a passive aggressive manner, the other taking it to heart and then both being brought to the defensive. Lady Bird sees her mother as restrictive and her mother sees her as spoiled. It doesn’t get uncomfortable or pandering to the audience because we constantly see both sides of the argument. Neither of them is wrong with each point they bring up, but both go about it the wrong way constantly. It’s tragic, but never unwatchable or to the point of being unpleasant. It all builds up to an ending that did throw me at first. But the more I look back at it the more satisfying it becomes.
It’s safe to say that I loved Lady Bird. And not just because it’s a nice break before I get back to dinosaurs on an exploding island, Lara Croft jumping another great height and the Avengers beating another drone army. It’s an exceptionally well-written, superbly acted, bitter-sweet story about family. I can’t imagine that they’ll keep it in cinemas much longer, they never do with films like this, so the sooner you get to see it the better. I think it’ll be a crowdpleaser, even if the ending might throw people for a minute or two. It says something when, in a world of superheroes and action and comedy sequels and remakes, such a little film stands taller than them all.
It’s always interesting seeing actors play against type. Sure, it doesn’t always work out; Hugh Grant as that cannibal in Cloud Atlas and whatever Jim Carey was doing in The Number 23 stand out as bad examples. But there is always that sense of ‘well at least they tried’ about it. Not many actors can break type, and even fewer can change into a vast amount of characters like a chameleon does with its skin. Very evidently, Tim McInnerny is one such actor. It was bizarre seeing a man who I grew up watching on BlackAdder staring in something like Lock In. But, like the short itself, he did not disappoint.
The eleven-minute-long Lock In follows the story of a landlord and his pregnant daughter, who are forced to deal with a possibly dangerous stranger who enters their pub after hours. From the very first minute, the man proves himself to be hostile and vindictive towards the pair of them. They cannot leave, as he makes them aware that his friends are waiting for them outside. What the stranger says to them and about them is unthinkable, monstrous and could be nothing but a lie. Or could it be true?
The acting alone was enough to carry this short along. It’s superb. Every emotion known to anyone is displayed within such a short amount of time, all in one location and seemingly in only one scene. McInnerny, Nicholas Pinnock and Lucy Boynton were all perfectly cast can gave their all. It’s not that obvious going for attention acting either. It’s all very subtle, the emotions of the characters are used to carry the film along – this is how it should be, and the actors and director were fully aware of this.
Huge praise must be given to director Neville Pierce, director of the short Bricks. Not only did he have great working relations with his actors, he also had a good eye for shot and sound execution. Everything fits together perfectly. The shots are perfect and are edited together at the perfect moments. The sound is loud when it needs to be and quiet when it needs to be. The music did everything it needed to, to suck me into the film. Everything is used exactly how it needs to be. It’s even the perfect length. Just half a minute longer would have spoilt it, as would half a minute shorter.
The story itself does take some dark turns, bringing up such sensitive subjects as child abuse and molestation. This is usually a topic that gets under my skin very easily – it’s why I will never watch films like Spotlight or shows like the apparently excellent National Treasure (which I’m aware also starred McInnerny). But here it didn’t bother me. That’s partially because it’s all handled with respect, but mostly because, while it’s a central part to the story, it’s not the theme of the film. The theme of the film is perception, and the power of perception.
The whole short provides many great examples of this, the most obvious being the film’s start and end. Where we believe that a man has come to harm two innocents, but then becomes a more twisted tale, where our views on characters change. This point does make it interesting to watch twice for certain. But what I loved most was that the film opens and closes on a framed photo – the very first shot and the very last shot are of this photo. This was masterful. It feels like a simple establishing shot at first but come the end it’s true purpose is made clear, and you will never look at it the same way again, having viewed it from a different perception.
There really is nothing to fault with Lock In. It’s a simple story, but a great idea. It has a great theme and executes it in a very unique way. It’s one I’d recommend, provided that people were aware that it is a dark tale. Being so short does make it an easy watch. It’s perfect for what it is, and what it is is thought provoking and thrilling all at once.
8 Broken Hearts is a moving documentary in which eight people from completely different walks of life bare their souls and discuss the difficulties they have faced in life, and the way in which they have learnt to deal with their own pain. It is a unique and brilliant portrayal of humanity. These people have all had completely different experiences, and yet they all share the same feelings of pain and sadness. Although their pain may never really go away, they describe how they have learnt to accommodate it as best they can.
We meet Rose, Patrick and Amber, who have all dealt with the traumatic death of a parent or loved one. John, Erica and Susan reflect on the difficulties they faced growing up with alcoholic or drug addicted parents. Tony opens up about being gay in a family where that would have been unacceptable, and Rico tells us about growing up as a ‘fat kid’, who was bullied by his peers and hit by his mother.
Its interview-come-therapy session style makes the experience all the more personal. We don’t see re-enactments of what they are describing, in fact we don’t see anything except the person. It is just us, listening to them, hearing their stories. It is a stark reminder of how everyone, no matter who they are or where they’re from, goes through some monumental struggles in their lives. It also shows wonderfully the power that we as humans have to overcome these troubles. These people have learnt from their own hardships, whether that is to be a better parent than the ones they had, or to appreciate life’s gifts more than they would had they not seen such dark times.
Although it is sad, and some of the stories might have you welling up, it is also a very hopeful portrayal of the strength of the human soul. It can withstand pretty much anything life throws at us, and this is comforting to see. I would recommend this to anyone who enjoys hearing other people’s stories, their trials and tribulations, and how they dealt with these hardships. It’s simple, beautiful and brave.
