Showing posts with label Marlon Brando. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marlon Brando. Show all posts

Thursday, July 14, 2016

RESTAURANT REVIEW: The Savoy Grill (Strand)



For my birthday back in April, I treated myself to a meal at Gordon Ramsey’s The Savoy Grill. It was quite a pricey dining experience, but I’d heard that my personal heroes Marlon Brando and Marylin Monroe liked to frequent this place, and if it was good enough for them, it was good enough for me. On a superficial level, The Savoy features a pretty classy clientele and I wanted to give my brand new Michael Kors handbag an outing, and you only turn 26 once!

My eye was immediately drawn to the Grills from the Wood Charcoal Oven, in the end opting for the Hereford beef sirloin steak, with a side of mashed potatoes and mixed lettuce and spring onion salad. I selected béarnaise as the sauce. It was all scrumptious – I completely abandoned by (already barely there) table manners and wolfed it down in less than ten minutes. Of all the steaks I've tasted in London, the one I had in The Savoy Grill is second only to Hawksmoor.

It wasn’t just the food that was good. Savoy Grill also featured an eye-watering drinks menu, with wines from Bordeaux, Rhone, Burgundy, Loire, Germany, Italy, Spain, Australia and more. And there was a real range in prices, from £60 bottles of wine to £2000 ones. In the end, I ordered a bottle of Latinamerican red wine and it complemented my red meat dish perfectly.

At The Savoy Grill, the waiters were much more attentive than at your typical restaurant, taking the time to get to know you and talk you through the options on the menu to gauge the perfect dish for you. Were I ever to come back, I would quite fancy the lobster which I eyeballed on a few fellow diners' tables and looked immense.

As amazing as it was to feel Iggy Azalea featuring Charli XCX for my birthday, The Savoy Grill was too much of an extravagance to visit other than for very special occasions. Such was the decadence, in fact, that the washroom featured cotton towels instead of paper ones! Here’s an oblig mirror selfie I had to take because it’ll be a long time before I go to such a posh place!

Grade: A-


Told you the washrooms were posh!



Wednesday, June 22, 2016

When Film Posters Lie: Crimes Against Billing Orders.

Today, I watched The Place Beyond the Pines, Derek Cianfrance's ambitious morality tale of how an encounter between bank robber (Ryan Gosling) and rookie cop (Bradley Cooper) affects their lives long after the meeting. I wasn't exactly sold on it; the three acts in the movie deteriorated monotonically, with the most gripping set pieces all being at the start of the film. The final act of the film focuses on the interaction between the two characters' sons, and the scenes between Emory Cohen and Dane DeHaan felt like a blasted mumbling contest.

Overall, I was mightily disappointed with The Place Beyond the Pines; there were some good elements: Bradley Cooper was as nuanced and as convincing as I've seen him (I usually can't take him seriously because he's appeared in some godawful Jennifer Lawrence collaborations and both of them bring out the worst in each other, especially when David O. Russell is involved), and the scenes between Ben Mendelsohn and Gosling were nicely done. Based on their chemistry together, I can see why Ryan Gosling chose to cast the Australian in his own movie, Lost River, 2 years later. You even get a tiny glimpse of Mendelsohn's terribad dancing, one of the few redeeming features of Lost River, in this movie.


But another gripe that I had with The Place Beyond the Pines that was no real fault of the filmmakers themselves was the sheer inaccuracy of the billing of Ray Liotta in the film poster. The way Liotta is credited here gives the (misleading) impression that he's the fourth main character in the film. He ain't. Gosling and Cooper are the co-leads, then Eva Mendes, then Dane DeHaan and then Emory Cohen. Ben Mendelsohn features in the first and third acts, so he would take sixth precedence. Being generous (and it would be being very generous), Ray Liotta is the seventh main character in the film. At best.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I can see why they did it. Although DeHaan and Emory Cohen are now gaining status and their acting technique has definitely improved (Cohen put his mumbling Brando impression to far better use as an adorable suitor of Saoirse Ronan in 2015's Brooklyn and you know he was good because I don't even begrudge him stealing Domhnall Gleeson's thunder), they weren't that well known in 2013, when the film was released. Whereas Ray Liotta is properly famous, not least for his iconic performance as Henry Hill in Goodfellas. So they were riding on the fame of his name. Fair enough, given the calibre the star they had on their castlist (Liotta's combination of charisma, screen presence and intense-eyed gaze renders him one of my favourite actors).


An even more brazen case of erroneous billing of an actor immortalised by a Martin Scorsese picture would be the combination of the name order and the appearance of a photo of Jonah Hill in the Hail, Caesar! poster. The fact that he's one of the five pictured could let you think he's one of the five main characters. He ain't. His role in Hail, Caesar! is genuinely that of a cameo, lasting less than a minute. As a huge Jonah Hill fan who's two main draws to this picture were the Coen brothers and him, I felt mightily short-changed.

As with Emory Cohen and Dane DeHaan getting trampled over in the Place Beyond the Pines poster, the biggest loser here is Alden Ehrenreich, who stole the show in Hail, Caesar! and if there were any justice in the world, would be in the running for a Best Supporting Actor nomination for what was a warm performance as a rodeo-come-actor who struggles with his lines of on point comic timing. Ehrenreich's role was the size that I had thought Jonah would be getting. Boy was I wrong about that, but it seems bizarre that the best thing about the film doesn't even get his picture on the poster.

Obviously, worse things have happened, and the world will keep spinning. And I can't begrudge Hollywood studios for trotting out their big names ahead of the lesser-known chaps, even if they had more prominence in the film. Money does talk, after all. And in both Ray Liotta and Jonah Hill's case, they succeeded at tricking me. By misrepresenting the magnitude of the actors' screen time in their respective movies on the film posters, the films' distributors lured me into watching the film under false pretences. I'm just too much of a Marty Scorsese fangirl for my own good, goddamnit!

But I'm not in the mood to be fooled for a third time this year by film posters. All I'm saying is, if Jonah Hill isn't actually the lead when I see War Dogs, I won't be best pleased.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Only three this week.

Last Tango in Paris (Bernardo Bertolucci, 1972)

Grief-ridden at his wife's unexpected suicide, Marlon Brando's Paul embarks on an extremely physical and ultimately destructive affair with Maria Schneider's Jeanne, a confused and neglected girlfriend of Jean-Pierre Léaud's self-absored filmmaker. 

I desperately wanted to like this film as I am both a massive fan of 1970s Bertolucci as well as Marlon Brando (well, he is my favourite actor, after all), but it was all I could do from laughing at this. The "human interaction" was embarrassing - the dialogue was extemely poor, the direction was still and self-obsessed and the sex scenes were mechanical and loveless. 

As ever, Brando puts his heart and soul into it - his monologue to the corpse of his wife is as affecting as I've been told to find it - but this was far from his best performance of all time, and Maria Schneider's constant bland line-reading hindered the quality of the acting further. 

Sloppy and depressing, only watch if you enjoy seeing people using butter as lubricant (which hopefully you don't. So basically don't watch it.)

Knocked Up (Judd Apatow, 2007)

Highly dissatisfying and uninteresting "comedy" about how schlubby bum Seth Rogen gets Katherine Heigl's high-flying career girl pregnant after being too lazy to bag up, and the ensuing bonding/whining/supposedly hilarity that arises from her being pregnant. 

The film wasn't totally awful; I really liked Forgetting Sarah Marshall's Jason Segel's turn in it, and I've been told that a drunken Emma physically resembles Charlyne Yi, so I guess I like her too. 

Plus there were moments when Rogen's loser of a character did exude a kind of charm, in a so-much-of-an-excuse-for-a-human-being-that-you-have-to-pity-him kind of way. But the two leads have zero chemistry and the premise is so derivative.

Lie to Me (John Stewart Muller, 2008)
Concluding the trilogy of rubbish films, Lie to Me is about a couple in an open relationship who find their bond tested when they find themselves falling for other people. 

Um... that's about it really, badly acted, written, directed, and a bit of an all-round fail.

Not the best selection of films last week, I'm afraid. Hopefully next week will hold better viewing options.

Friday, November 16, 2007

The use of Setting in A Streetcar Named Desire

In the opening stage directions of the play, the area in New Orleans where Elysian Fields is located is said to have a “raffish charm”. This quality of have a disreputable charm can be see in Stanley and his friends, as well as everyone living there, including the Negro woman who starts off the play with her scandalous anecdote. Immediately, the sleazy, open, yet friendly atmosphere of Elysian Fields is established. The people here all seem to know on another, and, if tested by an intruder, their loyalties would be with each other.

The buildings are described lyrically by Williams, from the “tender blue, turquoise” sky to the smells of “bananas and coffee,” and he creates a very unique setting for the play, a place that sounds appealing despite the poorness. The poorness is nonetheless apparent, where the stairs are “faded,” and the people live in very close proximity. The crowded set-up evokes a sense of claustrophobia, and there may be little space for an extra person.

The name of the area, Elysian Fields, is misleading, as it conjures up ideas of a paradise, with the “white columns” that Blanche was accustomed to in Belle Reve. Blanche is therefore very surprised to find Elysian Fields as how it is, as it would have gone against her illusions of waterfalls and white columns, as well as the grand, spacious place where she had lived. The poorness of this area is highlighted when she arrives, wearing a white suit, necklace and pearl earrings, and her dress shows that the place she had dressed for does not live up to her expectations. Her shock upon seeing it, “They mustn’t have understood” hints at the conflict between her background, culture and class, and that of the people who live her, which will come later.

When Blanche enters Stanley and Stella’s home, she is even less impressed, as there is little space for two people, let alone a third. This again foreshadows future tensions due to the claustrophobia and cramped conditions. The place is not described favourably, and Eunice’s claim that “when it’s cleaned, it’s real sweet” is not taken seriously by Blanche. Blanche does not think this place is good enough for her, and this will be one of the main things to annoy Stanley about her later. When Blanche finally meets Stella, she slips out, “Never in my worst dreams could I picture! Only Poe!”, rudely implying that their home is like something in a horror story. By doing this, she is insulting Stanley as well as Stella, and she will continue to insult Stanley on a range of things, which will eventually lead to her downfall.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Kazan wrote, “Blanche is a woman of enormous emotional variety, imperious, self-assertive to fluttering helplessness, feverish gaiety to pathetic terr

How much can we sympathise with Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire?
(essay I wrote for English Literature AS last year, one of my favourites.)

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One of the considered titles originally for Streetcar was The Moth, and from the opening introduction to Blanche from the stage directions, “her delicate beauty must avoid a strong light”, an image of a fluttering, self-destructive moth is painted. During the course of the play, elements of her personality reveal her to be vulnerable, such as her alcoholism and history of dependence on men. But she is also a highly flawed character that the audience has difficulty siding with. These dual components to her personality are what make her so interesting, although at times, it can be hard to sympathise with her.

From the start, Blanche manages to annoy other characters as well as the audience with her actions and speech, for example in the insensitive way she criticizes Stella’s house to the way she speaks about Stanley, making her appear self-indulgent, especially as she continues to patronize her sister, “You messy child!” She further loses the approval of the audience through her how egocentric she is, always managing to turn the topic of conversation to herself, “I want you to look at my figure!” However, at the same time, her low self-esteem is clear in how she frequently fishes for a compliment, “Would it be possible to think I was once considered attractive?” showing that her fragility in her seeking of approval. This humanizes her character somewhat, and when she tells Stella, “you’re all I’ve got in the world,” her isolation and loneliness is felt.

Stanley, on the other hand, has plenty of friends and “acquaintances,” all of which he is able to use to his advantage, where he does. He is the antithesis of the Southern gentleman that Blanche is accustomed to. When he takes his shirt off in front of her, Blanche is clearly uncomfortable, and will continue to take offence to a lot of his behaviour through the rest of the play. The audience can partially sympathise with Blanche for this, but her actions make it difficult to take sides for either character, such as her constantly calling Stanley “unrefined”. Whereas Stella has made an adjustment to his behaviour, she knows that her sister won’t, “Try not to compare him with the men we went out with at him.” She is right, and it would be very different for Blanche to get used to this change.

When more is revealed about Blanche’s past, the audience are able to sympathise with her more. She had married young, but with tragic consequences, and it is clear that the events still haunt her, from her emotional exhaustion when discussing it. The sense of mystery surrounding Blanche’s peculiar arrival in New Orleans takes on a sinister taint, and Blanche’s reluctance to be in bright light calls attention to this mysterious nature. Bright light, whether from a naked bulb or the midday sun, reveals Blanche’s true age. She can claim to be a woman of twenty-five in semi-darkness, but the glare of sharp light reveals a woman who has seen more, suffered more, and aged more. In addition, probing questions and honest speech function as a metaphorical light that threatens to reveal Blanche’s past and her true nature.


Whilst we can sympathise somewhat with Blanche about the cultural differences between her and Stanley, she does nothing to make the situation easier. Stanley tells her not to call him a “Polack”, yet she continues to. This could be either conscious or done unconsciously, but either way, it leads the audience to feel Stanley’s frustration at Blanche. His anger at her is further shown in his short sentences, “Huh.” Stanley feels his privacy invaded and wishes for things to be back the way they were, “It’s gonna be all right again between you and me the way it was.” Furthermore, Blanche forever bathes and drinks, treating the house as her own, which riles Stanley, “soaking in the hot tub?” especially if we consider that Blanche does not earn an income, and Stanley is the sole provider. Some argue that whereas Stanley did destroy Blanche through the rape, she was also responsible for destroying Stella and Stanley’s home life during her stay.

However, the main thing done by Blanche to invoke hatred in Stanley is her constant trying to tell Stella that he is not good enough for her. This is felt strongly in Scene Four, where Stanley eavesdrops on Blanche describing him as “common” and “an animal”. Here, the audience hears this insults through Stanley’s ears, and the dislike towards Blanche is felt by us. Part of Blanche’s disparaging comments about Stanley are out of concern for her sister – she had in the previous scene witness her being attacked by him, but the patronizing and judgemental way in which Blanche speaks about Stanley, “But the only way to live with such a man is to go to bed with him!” makes it apparent that she is hurting Stella, and that she is unlikely to take her sister’s advice. In Scene Four, Williams uses dramatic irony to make us feel fear for Blanche, and when Stella hugs Stanley in Blanche’s full view, this also prefigures the end of the play, where Stella will choose her husband over her sister.

A lot of Blanche’s questionable behaviour loses the sympathy of the audience. When she throws herself at the young newspaper boy, Blanche reveals her hypocrisy—she is lustful underneath her genteel, morally upright façade that she creates, “The Hotel Flamingo is not the sort of establishment that I would dare be seen in!” Blanche condemns Stanley and Stella’s purely sexual relationship, but we see that her urges are every bit as strong as Stella’s, yet, as this involves somebody underage, less appropriate. Suddenly, compared with Blanche’s behaviour, Stella’s love life looks healthy and wholesome.

At the same time, however, something of Blanche’s hypocrisy makes her a figure of pity. She is creating the image in the hope of finding a suitor. She is a liar, and knows she is; but never in malice “I never lied inside my heart.” She lied to Mitch because she could never believe that he would truly love her for what she actually is, which makes her lies more tragic. She is obviously someone who is used to and needs sheltering and kindness and is not equipped to deal with ugliness and naked truths (such as the naked light bulbs), so her lies can be understood, if not justified.

And the component in Blanche’s personality is her refusal to face reality, “I don’t realism – I want fantasy!” Stanley is the opposite, practical and realistic. Stella finally sides with Stanley, just because of lack of courage but because the social constrictions of the time made her with baby so she was dependent on him. Blanche’s impracticalities in even taking notes – she uses an eyeliner and writes on paper are humorous, but also highlight how strongly fantasy features in her ideas. Someone once said, “Blanche is a lovely, damaged flower who is not equipped to deal with the harsh realities of life, namely Stanley Kowalski.” Stanley crushes all her delusions, but it can be argued that Blanche’s final dignified exit shows that he has not destroyed all of her self-respect, and for that, she can be seen as a heroine.

Tishler said, “The plot is simple. It moves from hope and frustration to destruction and despair.” This plot shape is similar to that of a tragedy, and Blanche is the tragic hero. At the end of Scene 6, there seems to be an opening for redemption, “Sometimes – there’s a God – so quickly!” but immediately in the next scene, Mitch has left Blanche. Stanley is the cause of this destruction. Blanche is left practically alone, and when she tries to justify her actions to Mitch, by explaining how much he meant to her, “a cleft in the rock” he still casts her aside, “You’re not clean enough to bring into the house with my mother.” By the end of Scene Nine, as she gives up hope, she begins to lose her grip on reality as well.

But of course the ultimate act of tragedy for Blanche is the rape. Throughout the course of the play, Stanley has destroyed many of the things she holds dear, including her relationship with Mitch, but the rape is the worst. In this scene, the plastic theatre is apparent to enhance the paranoia and emotional exhaustion felt by Blanche, such as the shadows of “lurid and menacing form.” This could emulate the fear that she has come to feel of Stanley. In this scene, jungle imageries are rife, accentuating Williams’ “survival of the fittest” theme of the play. In A Streetcar Named Desire, Blanche simply isn’t “fit” enough, and will be devoured and destroyed by the Stanleys of the world.

Sympathy is felt for Blanche in the final scene through Mitch. He lashes out at Stanley angrily, betraying his uneasiness, and showing that he still cares for her. He is unable to concentrate on the game when he hears Blanche’s voice, although several weeks have passed since their previous meeting. He, like many of the audience, blames Stanley for interfering with a relationship that should have been left alone, but then he collapses in ineffectual sobs. Mitch fails by realizing too late the vulnerable beauty of Blanche and thus, he is left as lonely and alone as Blanche.

Blanche tells Stanley “deliberate cruelty is unforgivable.” Whilst Stanley has done some deliberately cruel things – giving Blanche the train ticket on her birthday, the rape, Blanche has not. She has found love in wrong places, lied to people, and made some bad decisions, but she has never been deliberately cruel. Blanche’s entire world was destroyed when her husband killed himself - something that she entirely blames on herself. She spends her life trying to expiate herself from this sin, yet, after arriving at Elysian Fields, her life is just made worse by Stanley. Blanche was someone who was “ahead of her time” in her strong passion, but, in her sexual encounters, never found true love, and was ultimately lead to insanity by her desire. For this reason, I feel a huge amount of sympathy for her.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Autumn time, and the living is cold.

Films watched this week:


A Common Thread
Claire Moutiers is an emotional, unusual teenager with a head full of curly pre-Raphaelite hair a serious predilection for embroidery. She also happens to be pregnant. The film follows her journey as she gives up her humdrum job in a supermarket to work for famous sequinist Mme. Mélikian, who is mourning the loss of her son.

Directed with meticulous detail by Éléonore Faucher and with gorgeous scenes of the two women working on a piece of embroidery, A Common Thread is quite slow-moving and definitely goes with its own pace, but it’s a seriously beautiful movie encompassing themes such as maternity, creation and loneliness. 

Lola Naymark is terrific as the mercurial, feisty lead, and you find yourself rooting for her throughout, even if you don’t know her that well. And there is an unbelievably erotically charged scene where the love interest (played by Thomas Laroppe) kisses a highly pregnant Claire near a tree which is pretty much my highlight of the whole movie.

A Streetcar Named Desire
When I first saw this film in 2003, I completely fell head-over-heels in love with Marlon Brando, the art of acting, and movies. Having studied the text for English Literature AS and had to sit an exam on it (“Stella is also a victim. Discuss.”), I feel I know the text quite well, and am truly amazed with what Brando did with Stanley.

Actually, in many ways, he presented Stanley in too nice a light; in several scenes he lacks the edge of maliciousness that Stanley Kowalski had in the novel and his choice to tell Mitch seems more about Blanche’s history seems to genuinely be out of concern for his mate rather than a personal vindication, but, considering all the moral codes of the 50s, Elia Kazan really manages to stay as true to the play as he can, and the film contains two of the best male and female performances of all time. 

Breakfast at Tiffany’s
We had my favourite actor, now let’s talk about my favourite actress, the Goddess that is Audrey Hepburn. Breakfast at Tiffany’s has everything that I love about New York, Henry Mancini's score is a classic (Audrey singing Moon River is one of the most iconic moments in cinema), and 99% of the supporting players are likeable (Mickey Rooney is my second least favourite Rooney of all time; his racist “performance” is a joke.)

The film hasn't aged well (it is not acceptable to have a Caucasian play an East Asian character, and a stereotype of one at that), but is still worth watching for Hepburn's movie-star charisma alone.

Far from Heaven
I love the lushness and richness of the set design so much in this movie that I have to watch this every October to relate to the falling leaves and glorious colours in the movie.

Technicals aside, this is also one of my favourite movies for emotional reasons; the story of Cathy Whitaker, the “perfect wife” whose life slowly falls apart in front of her as she discovers of her husband’s interest in men is heartbreaking as it is engrossing, and Julianne Moore transcends as Cathy, giving one of my favourite performances of all time.

She’s a joy to watch from start to finish, and in particular, he scenes 24’s Dennis Haysbert tingle erotically with the unsaid. Oh, and Elmer Bernstein’s score is beautifully evocative of the era.

Autumn Sonata
A truly magnificent film, and I love it more than many if Bergman’s more critically acclaimed ones, such as The Seventh Seal. A powerful and almost unbearable tense drama on family, inadequacy and playing the piano, Liv Ullman is so incredible that she even outshines Ingrid Bergman. 

The late night showdown between the mother (Bergman) and Ullman (daughter) is one of the most painful and draining scenes in cinema history.