A rude gesture at the MCU

This blog is rated 12A for implied strong language and references to violence and torture.

Those with a passing interest in British film certification will have noticed that they’ve recently adopted a new turn of phrase as part of their catalogue of film ratings reasons: ‘rude gesture’.

It’s been flagged for several films, including Pacific Rim Uprising, Rampage and Walk with Me. The former two are 12A and the latter is a PG, which suggests to me the BBFC can’t quite decide if using the middle finger is a 12A or PG-rated offence.

Happy Questionnaire Day.

Before I saw Happy Death Day on Saturday, representatives from Universal presented me with this survey which is, er, comprehensive, to say the least:

Needless to say, I didn't fill the whole thing in, but, Universal reps, if you're reading, I gave your film a 7/10. I thought it was nonsense, but unchallenging, enjoyable nonsense, anchored by a fine comedic turn from Jessica Rothe (the one in the green dress dancing behind Bugeyes in La La Land) and I also enjoyed the presence of Ruby Modine (aka Matthew Modine's daughter), who is very pretty, a decent actress, and testament to the good kind of nepotism (the bad kind being Cokehead Delevingne, naturally).

Also at the cinema, I saw this rather striking poster for My Little Pony: The Movie.

Get (that misplaced full stop) Out.

I watched Get Out this evening. Partly because critics and my friends alike have been raving about it,  but mainly because I'm a massive BBFC nerd and I was curious if this typo (a full stop where there should be a comma) would show up on the big screen, before the movie.

Spoiler alert: it did.

Tut tut, BBFC! Not been doing too well recently with all those typos, are we?!

Good movie was good, by the way. Brit Daniel Kaluuya was an ace leading man and Jordan Peele, the comedian, had a surprisingly tight control of the story and plot. Get Out was a horror movie that did not go places I expected it to go.  8/10.

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In case you hadn't realised, I nerd out over the BBFC in a major way. The rest of my studious investigation of them here.

Film review: THE MAN WHO COULD CHEAT DEATH (Terence Fisher, 1959)

My BBFC game (level 3)

Short insights with the word 'threat' in them.

I have no life.

Film review: LE CHARME DISCRET DE LA BOURGEOISIE (Luis Buñuel, 1972)

6 members of the French upper-middle class find that their best-laid plans to dine together are repeatedly and frustratingly scuppered, whether it be due to misunderstanding over the date, French army officers inviting themselves to their meal or suddenly getting arrested. Some of the most bizarre scenarios are revealed to be dream sequences in Luis Buñuel's Oscar winner of Best foreign film.

From the outset, the characters at the centre of Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie are an attractive, urbane bunch, who converse on the finer things in life are of good scruples. But the audience's perceptions are quickly shattered. One casually deals drugs whilst bedding his mate's missus. A couple, the Sénéchals, shimmy out of the window to have sex in the garden whilst ignoring their guests.

Buñuel obviously had a rollicking good time exposing the false dichotomy between the bourgeois and the proletariat that they so smugly like to compare themselves to, and for the most part, his film is enthralling to follow. A little more clarity of focus might have rendered this a more complete watch; some of the dream sequences are nested within dreams of other characters, but finding this out merely adds to the confusion rather than answering any narrative questions.

It's highly probable that the many and varied sequences in Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie wasn't supposed to make sense to the audience, and that the true interpretation of the movie is to be teased out on repeat viewings. If the watcher is to be merely amused and entertained,  then, Buñuel has certainly accomplished his goal. He sends the middle class up with far more flair and nuance than he poked fun of Christianity in La Voie lactée, not least because the vignettes in that film depicted characters that felt strawman-ish, whereas in Charme discret the funny parts are generally underscored by truth.

Surreal touches pepper the film. Fernando Rey (Tristana, That Obscure Object of Desire) is a diplomat for a fictional south American country, the Republic of Miranda, but, like the equally fabricated TV towns of Pawnee in Parks and Rec and Agrestic in Weeds, the country is evoked with such detail when characters discuss it, that the audience could easily believe it were a real place. A maid, played by an actress who couldn't be a day over 30, nonchalantly declares she's in her 50s, and no-one bats an eyelid. And, when hearing his wife is in his best friend's bedroom, the culprit coolly tells him to go wait in his car, and his missus will be out later.

In between displays of the director's signature playful dramatic irony, Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie juxtaposes some disturbing imagery. These arresting scenes of corpses haunting various people now look a tad outdated by 21st century cinema's tendency to depict gore on a hyper-realistic level, but it's because they're so out of the blue and jarring with the rest of the film's comedic tone that they manage to retain power.

Overall, Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie should be approached with caution; its wacky exposition and unconcern with tying up the plot won't be to everyone's tastes. But if you stick with it, it's a truly surprising movie, that will tickle and unnerve you in equal measure, and as a thesis on the power of dreams, it's a hell of a lot more gripping than Christopher Nolan's overrated Inception.

7.5/10

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This review marks my seventh of the eight DVDs in the Luis Buñuel boxset. Read my reviews of the other films I've seen of his here.

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

Four recent releases that got a PG-13 in the States but a 15 here.

I was in Birmingham for a conference this week and saw two films there alone, thus making v.g. use of my Odeon Limitless card!

Having seen those two films (The Shallows, Lights Out), I’ve now seen four movies (those two and Nerve and Suicide Squad), all released fairly recently, that got rated a PG-13 by the MPAA and, rather than get the rating that is roughly equivalent over here, the 12A (which about 90% of US PG-13s get), they were slapped with the older sister rating, the 15.

I thought I’d be super-nerdy and discuss my thoughts on the BBFC’s decision to rate them 15, rather than the actual quality of films themselves.

Lights Out: 15 for strong supernatural threat, bloody images.

My verdict: 15.

Far from being one of the scariest 15s I’ve seen, but there were a lot of jump moments, some funny, but some very intense which would have been just a bit too terrifying for a 12A. The main antagonist was also too creepy in appearance for 12 year olds and under to stomach.

Nerve: 15 for risky imitable behaviour.

My verdict: 15.

The film portrays teenagers being egged on to do increasingly more daring and ill-advised things for money, and that fact that some of these really dangerous acts don’t have negative consequences (eg, lying on a train track as a train crosses, or driving a motorcycle at perilously high speeds without sight [Dave Franco in motorcycle gear tho. Swoon]) could potentially send out the wrong message to impressionable pre-teens, which the 12A rating would have allowed them watch. Thus, agreed with the BBFC on this one.

The Shallows: 15 for sustained threat, bloody injury detail

My verdict: 12A.

To paraphrase a defender’s protestations after his clumsy foul has led to conceding a penalty, ‘Never a 15!!!’ This survival movie, about a young Medical school dropout (Blake Lively, surprisingly decent) and her battle with an aggressive shark, felt more vaguely unsettling, rather than relentlessly frightening. There were some moments where her vs the shark felt a bit touch-and-go, but the focus on the resourcefulness of Lively’s character gave me faith that she wasn’t going to go down without a fight; I didn’t feel the threat really was ‘sustained’.

Also, the injury detail, whilst grisly, was no worse than what Matt Damon had to address in The Martian, a 12A.

Suicide Squad: 15 for sustained threat, moderate violence

My verdict: undecided.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy it got a 15, because it meant I got to enjoy Suicide Squad in relative peace (the cinema was full when I saw it because I watched it the day it was released to maximise the number of hits I’d get for my review for it. I’m cool like that).

But in terms of precedent, the 12A-rated 10 Cloverfield Lane made me a lot more nervous than this film did, and I also thought the tone of Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight was bleaker than Suicide Squad. Plus the BBFC rating for that 12A title featured ‘strong violence’, so if strong violence is allowed in a 12A (The Kite Runner, another 12A, has strong violence), then moderate violence shouldn’t be really flagged as a 15 category-defining issue, no? #pedanticChinawoman

On the other hand, I do think the scenes between Joker and Harley were a little disturbing, particularly when she voluntarily jumps into a vat of acid to pledge her love to him; the juxtaposition of Kehlani’s seductive vocals on ‘Gangster’ with the disquieting visuals perfectly capturing Harley's brainwashed mental state (Margot Robbie in glasses tho. Swoon). I guess Jared Leto’s Joker’s unhinged grin when he was torturing people contributed to the 15 certificate and may go someway to explaining why The Dark Knight wasn’t a 15 – Heath Ledger’s Joker committed acts of violence and murder, but those acts were more functional rather than Leto’s, who definitely had an element of relish to his acts.

So yeah, sitting on the fence on this one.

In conclusion, I fervently agree with the BBFC on two of their 15s, strongly disagree with one, and don’t know about the final one.

I previously mentioned 10 Cloverfield Lane; I’d like to highlight again that that was far too scary for a 12A (even if it did get a PG-13 in the States, but a lot of our 15-rated horrors are also PG-13, showing that the two certificates don’t directly align in the category of threat). Here is a film that definitely could have done with being one certificate higher; if any movie merits the ‘sustained threat’ rubric, it was 10 Cloverfield Lane, which filled me with dread from beginning to end.

Yet the BBFC, bafflingly, claimed the threat in 10 Cloverfield Lane was purely ‘moderate’. They also assigned ‘moderate threat’ to the 12A rating to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, somewhat laughably. Those two films were not at all comparable in the fear stakes.

The IFCO, the Irish film board, rated that a 15, as well as Suicide Squad, Lights Out and Nerve 15s, and The Shallows a 12A. Looks like me and the IFCO are in closer alignment when it comes to these five films!

Every night I go, I go sneaking out the door.

Brothers (Jim Sheridan, 2009)
Vaguely interesting re-make of Brødre, with some strong performances from Gyllenhaal and Maguire, but Portman was lol-worthy. I strongly disliked the uglier daughter in the film as well; the things she said to Tobey Maguire over the dinner table deserved a slap.

Shutter Island (Martin Scorsese, 2010)

I'd read the book beforehand so knew the twist, but even so, I adored this film, a lot. Not my favourite from Scorsese, mind, that’s The King of Comedy, but it was really tense and well-sculpted, and Leonardo DiCaprio reminded me why he’s one of my 3 favourite actors with a characteristically strong performance. The sequences with DiCaprio and Williams were terrifically staged and dead depressing. The music was reallllly intense (albeit heavy on the usage of the double bass), which added to the impending sense of doom of the film. I don't think I like it quite as much as The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, but I prefer it muchly to Mulholland Dr.  Anyway, recommended.

Shank (Mo Ali, 2010)
Oh dear. I'm not exaggerating when I say this was one of the worst films I've ever seen in my entire life. I only watched it in the first place for Kaya Scodelario (Effy from Skins), but, aside from looking quite slutty and skinny, she didn't do anything. The male characters were all major pains in the backsides and I found myself, more than once, thinking "just die already". There was also a quite terrible scene in which two dogs beat the crap out of each other. Shit acting, shit direction and animal cruelty to boot. Piece of shit.

Cracks (Jordan Scott, 2009)

I'd been looking forward to watching this film for ages, and it didn't disappoint! Eva Green oozed charisma and it wasn't hard to see why Juno Temple and her fellow classmates idolised her so. Relative unknown María Valverde impressed me greatly and I felt for her in her plight. The "seduction" scene, wherein Green misuses her teacherly role was classily and darkly handled, and the score from Javier Navarrete (the guy that scored Pan's Labyrinth) was beautifully haunting.

Saw VI (Kevin Greutert, 2009)
Disappointing and not even terribly scary. I just thought Saws I-III did it a lot better, and some of the tortures (a man getting his insides incinerated with hydrochloric acid) were just beyond grim. Saw I was brilliant because it was so groundbreaking, but now everything was done and nothing surprised me.

Pretty Persuasion (Marcos Siega, 2005)

My main problem with this film was that it quite patently couldn't decide what it wanted to be more like: a Heathers of the noughties, or a slightly meaner Mean Girls. As such, it couldn't quite deal with its own tonal modulations. Some of the banter was fun, but on the whole, it turned my stomach to think about 15-year-old girls doing some of the things that Evan Rachel Wood's character did.

I also watched the Easter special of Jonathan Creek, called "The Judas Tree", and I was reminded of why I love this show so much. Whilst I still haven't quite accepted Sheridan Smith as his sidekick, the mystery, plotting and denouement were all brilliant, and there was a fair dose of heartbreak in the finale. <3

A smorgasbord of shitty movies.

The past few movies that I've watched have all been shockingly awful. In fact, if I didn't love films so damn much, these past couple of films and their sheer awfulness would put me off watching movies for life.

Expired (Cecilia Miniucchi, 2007)
Samantha Morton plays a shy traffic warden who embarks on a tentative and completely disjointed relationship with unstable workmate Jason Patric in this lame dark comedy. Not much actually happens in the film, and it trawls through the events at its own, very slow pace. Jason Patric does the best he can do with an extremely unlikeable character but Morton's contribution cosists of nothing apart from sporting a fugly perm. There are the odd moments of sweetness amongst the many sour ones, but overall, it proved an extremely pointless watch.

Towelhead (Alan Ball, 2007)
Alan Ball abandons his fascination with the dead for Towelhead with his directorial debut, which focuses on the living. In particular, one thing which is very alive is the sexual awakening of 13-year-old Jasira Maroun, who leaves her mother to go live with her racist, crazy father. Summer Bishil looks appropriately gormless throughout, but the things that are done to her in the movie (not least by Aaron Eckhart's fingers, ewwww) made me sick. Toni Collette offers modest redemption as just about the only decent person in a cesspool of human crap, but overall, this film left me feeling very, very repulosed. The fact that Ball retained the racist title of the novel in order to summon controversy in an attempt to get bums on seats for this piece of turd says it all.
Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire (Lee Daniels, 2009)
Now, I was really looking forward to Precious. The book, grim as it was, packed a real emotional punch. But the film... sheesh. There was poverty porn overdrive with the many shots of greasy food and the dialogue varied between corny after-school special to embarrassing blaxploitation. Gabby Sidoube was amazing, I'll give her that, the mastery of her performance even more impressive given that Precious was her cinematic debut. Mo'Nique was appropriately evil and terifying as Precious' Mommy Dearest. But, really. Any film that thinks juxtaposing a rape scene with frying an egg? As Precious might say, "that's jus' NASTY".

The Collector (Marcus Dunstan, 2009)
Um, yeah. This film was not good. It's about a guy who decides to steal a precious jewel from an affluent family in order to make child support payments, only to find that some guy, "The Collector", has rigged the house with traps. The traps aren't just mouse traps or anything either; they're real sadistic, saw type traps. Agh. Anyway, the only positive thing I can say about this piece of crap was that the little girl in it survived.

AntiChrist (Lars von Trier, 2009)
Yuck. Where to start, really. This was one of the ponciest, sickening, poorly acted and pointless films of all time. Following the death of their son (which occured when the parents were banging to the pretentious tones of Lascia ch'io pianga in a crappily staged sechs scene), the mother, "She", is so overcome with grief that her husband drags her out to the middle of nowhere, a supposed "Eden". Charlotte Gainsbourg walks around with her minge hanging out most of the time, the director of photography really could have done with bunging his camera on a tripod rather than purseposely shaking it and don't get me started on the rancid genital mutilation. It's not bad news all around, though - The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus? You're not the shittest film of 2009 anymore!