Film review: THE EYES OF MY MOTHER (Nicolas Pesce, 2016)

My second film viewed at the BFI London Film Festival, a surprising choice for me, a horror movie!
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Francisca lives an unusual but tranquil life with her reticent father and hands-on surgeon mother, who teaches her all about dissection, secluded from the test of the village. One day, her sheltered upbringing is rocked when a man purporting to be a salesman murders her mother, thus triggering and endless sense of longing, as well as morbid curiosity about the human, within her. This fascination with human bodies and a desperate need not to be alone manifests itself in devastating ways.

Horror is not one of my preferred genres (FYI, those would be 1) romance, 2) drama, 3) comedy), and the influx of mindless torture porn titles a la Hostel in recent years has made me even more averse to it. But The Eyes of My Mother is one of those rare things: a horror movie with brains and a beating heart.

In Francisca, you have a beguiling protagonist, whose motivations for her destructive actions are not jammed down your throat with a ham-fisted tale of past tragedy, but instead, hinted at in Kika Magalhães's haunting performance. Throughout the film, and whilst carrying out villainous acts, her character maintains a placid, almost cold facade. Yet the more intimate scenes where she speaks to her dead mother, betray her true vulnerability. The film's ability to make us empathize with such a monstrous character really cannot be applauded enough.

It helps that Magalhães, who was consulted by Pesce throughout his screenwriting process, also got to inject parts of herself into the character she portrays. In a scene where she dances freely to a piece of music, this was one of the actress' mother's favourite pieces. Having this personal touches injects flavour into Magalhães' mesmeric performance, a welcome subversion of how females in horror movies are usually presented.

The black and white cinematography, selected because director Nicolas Pesce wanted to homage the movies of the 1950s that he adored (in a Q&A following the film, he revealed a penchant for Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, good man) suits the stark, bare set, and effectively conveys Francisca's heartbreakingly bleak view on the world. The jarring score adds to the sense of dread and discomfort that builds steadily throughout the film's 76 minute running time.

Nicolas Pesce, like Quentin Tarantino, is a director who loves films. His influences are peppered throughout the film, from the keeping a person barely alive held captive (evoking Takashi Miike's disturbing Audition), to the Alamodovarian underlying theme of the importance our parents play on our formation. Also like Quentin Tarantino, who's dextrous employment of the 'conceal and reveal' in Reservoir Dogs, Pesce fully understands that the best way to unsettle the audience is to not show them the darkest moments, but to leave it to their imagination.

Although Francisca's actions throughout the film are horrifying, the depiction of these are afforded surprising economy of expression; a murder will be indicated with a puddle of blood shown on the floor. The jumping from the serial-killing to the mundane also creates some off-kilter tonal jumps that evoke nervous laughter in the audience. However, there are some arresting images in the film, which impacts on a strongly visceral level.

Overall, The Eyes of My Mother is one of the most intelligent, haunting horror movies created. Pesce (who, depressingly, is only 3 months older than me) deserves a huge amount of credit for subverting the hoary horror movie tropes and put his own organic spins on them. In doing so, he has created Francisca, an enigmatic murderess for the ages.

8/10

A look ahead: CHECK THE GATE season at the PRINCE CHARLES CINEMA.

I absolutely adore the Prince Charles Cinema. I bought a lifetime membership (a bargain for just £50) back in 2014 and celebrated on the day by watching Richard Linklater's Boyhood. Since then, I have regularly given this delightful cinema my patronage, whether it be to see Francois Ozon's gender-bending The New Girlfriend, or their incredible Frozen singalongs, where I can unleash my inner Disney Princess with impunity. One of my chief lamentations about holding a Cineworld Unlimited card was how few independent films these cinemas screened, and a Prince Charles Cinema membership is an ideal panacea for that problem: for just a few quid, you can watch wonderful lesser-known movies (old and new) in an institution of London steeped in rich history.

Which is why I'm insanely excited about the upcoming Check the Gate: A Celluloid Celebration event at the Princes Charles Cinema, lasting between today, 9th July, until 20th August.

Casting my eye over the itinerary of films, some titles in particular that caught my attention are  Ridley Scott's unforgettable road trip movie Thelma and Louise (the last film to attain two Oscar nominations in the Best Actress category. Although if the Weinsteins hadn't tried to force Rooney Mara to commit category fraud, Carol might have attained such a feat, but that's a rant for another day), Nicholas Ray's iconic In a Lonely Place (which I raved about when I first watched), Paul Thomas Anderson's affecting patchwork quilt Magnolia (famed for, amongst other things, the frogs from the sky sequence), and a gripping film-noir and the picture which resurrected Joan Crawford's career - as well as won her an Oscar, Mildred Pierce. 

But these are just some of the few eye-wateringly exciting titles listed, check out the link above and you're bound to find a title that either you love, or have always wanted to see. The season opens tonight at 8:30pm with Francis Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now, which I have watched on TV many a time, but never on the big screen. Just picturing the lights dim, the huge screen and the Prince Charles Cinema speakers blasting out Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries is epic. In fact, I'm pretty certain that once you've watched Apocalypse Now in the cinema - as it Coppola intended it to be seen - the thought of viewing it again on a small TV? The horror, the horror.

Ticket prices are extremely reasonable and as ever, there's a generous discount for members (honestly, for £50 to become a lifetime member, the membership pays for itself). I will definitely be making the most of the eclectic menu of movies (the selection was curated by, amongst others, The Telepraph's Tim Robey and Time Out's Tom Huddleston) and frequenting the PCC over Summer.

Hope to see you there!

94. The Women (George Cukor, 1939).

Film review: MILDRED PIERCE (Michael Curtiz, 1945)

Mildred Pierce is not having a good day. After an argument with her husband (chiefly about how she spoils her daughter), he leaves her for another woman. She turns to her daughter Veda for consolation, who merely whines about the state of a dress her mother has spent money on for her.

Desperate to gain her daughter's affections, Mildred finds a job as a waitress, and soon after gains the qualifications to launch her own brand of catering, gaining her success and wealth, as well as the attentions of a wealthy playboy Monte Beragon. But what Mildred really wants – the love of her daughter Veda - is still not received, and despite going to extreme lengths, never receives it.

In the lead role that won her an Oscar, the inimitable Joan Crawford is superb. In a time when melodrama was all the fashion, she goes all out in her performance, exhibiting a wide range of emotions. But despite the over-the-topness of her style of acting, she manages to make her character believable and accessible, and the audience are able to feel her love for her daughter, if not understand it. Veda is a black-hearted brat, and Ann Blyth depicts the sly cruelty of her character with frightening accuracy. The women are joined by an array of talented male players too.

There’s a clever storytelling device that has been adopted for this movie, of telling the story of Mildred’s life back in flashbacks. That, aided with Mildred’s narration, gives the film a hard, film-noir, edge, and there is plenty of 40s style suspense presented to us by capable hands. Under the direction of movie luminary Michael Curtiz, this is further accentuated.

But Mildred Pierce is in essence a melodrama (Max Steiner scoring? Hello?), and an extremely fine one too. Though the characters we meet are all quite detestable, Mildred, brought to us with perfect care by Crawford, is one that we’re rooting for throughout.

A