Ladybird, Ladybird [Ken Loach, 1994]:
Watched: Oct 22, 2019
Crissy Rock's performance as the central character, a
woman struggling to reclaim her children from social services after being
trapped in an abusive relationship, remains one of the best ever on-screen. For
me, she creates a fully realised character, lives and breathes her, makes her
human. The subject matter is devastating, as it explores and impeaches a system
of social care that all too often turns against the victims and works to
grind-down the hopes and aspirations of those caught on the bottom rung of
society by means of entirely systemic circumstances. The film plays well to
director Ken Loach's usual intention to create works that inspire debate and
make steps towards genuine social change, as he commits to a story that shows
how genuine people fight against corruption and persecution; not through
childish acts of designer violence, as in a film like Joker (2019), but through
resilience, strength of will and the kindness of others. If the film doesn't
leave its audience angry at the exploitation of its characters and the cycles
of abuse and institutional prejudices relating to gender, ethnicity and class,
then we've failed in our capacity as human beings.
Under the Silver Lake [David Robert Mitchell, 2018]:
Watched: Oct 23, 2019
What remains in the mind at the end of the film, more
than the weird characters, the strange diversions, the sub-plots and gestures
towards satire, the mysteries and conspiracies, is the presence of its
sociopathic protagonist, whose problems may hold the key to unlocking the whole
thing. Early nods to the eccentric LA noir of films like The Long Goodbye (1973),
Body Double (1984), The Big Lebowski (1997) and Mulholland Drive (2001) – with
their own mysteries and conspiracies, their interludes and their scenes of
characters just shooting the shit – eventually give way to this warped
character study, in which the protagonist, as either cipher or unreliable
narrator, may be the instigator of everything. Criticisms of Mitchell's film – his
follow-up to the excellent and atmospheric horror movie It Follows (2014) – focused
on charges of self-indulgence. While it's potentially true that any of the
individual sub-plots here could've formed the basis for a standalone feature and
been all the stronger for it, the film nonetheless got under my skin and left
me fascinated and frustrated in a way that only the truly reckless and singular
films can. In his direction and stylization, Mitchell once again proves that
he's a formidable maker of images, with every shot and sequence very carefully
planned and probably storyboarded to create extraordinary mise-en-scène. If his
storytelling is meandering and oblique, then at least his aesthetic is
controlled and original throughout.
The Bling Ring [Sofia Coppola, 2013]:
Watched: Nov 02, 2019
A frequent criticism of the films of Sofia Coppola is
that they focus almost exclusively on characters from backgrounds of wealth and
privilege. I don't see this as a flaw, personally. If anything, it illustrates
that Coppola is a filmmaker of honesty and self-awareness. She understands
wealth and privilege because this is the world she was born into. It gives her
a unique perspective, which she doesn't shy away from. The vast majority of
filmmakers come from wealth and privilege or at the very least are able to easily
attain it. And yet they turn their gaze on the poor and the working class and
in doing so fetishize their struggles as a virtue. Recent films like Roma
(2018) and Parasite (2019) are each guilty of this, their millionaire directors
either deifying the woman who acted as their housemaid for a meagre income, or in
turn portraying the wealthy as an actual pestilence to be punished and cast out.
Coppola doesn't succumb to anything so crass and hypocritical. Her portrayals
of the bored and the beautiful are presented with criticism but also consideration.
In The Bling Ring, which is based on true events, Coppola finds shades and
nuances to these characters, showing them to be emotionally complex and capable
of self-awareness, but at the same time susceptible enough to be swept along on
the tide of shallow consumerism, lifestyle aspiration and brand envy. It's a
surprisingly engaging work that takes characters that could've been presented
as nothing more than spoiled brats and superficial monsters (which they still are,
to a large extent) and places them in a wider system of influences and
causalities that point to a cultural or systemic failure, wherein the stability
of the family unit and the support of friendship were replaced by the empty
one-upmanship of celebrity culture. It tackles some deep and satirical themes,
but still manages to feel like one of its director's lighter and more
entertaining works.
I am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House [Osgood Perkins, 2016]:
Watched: Nov 05, 2019
This had a very literary quality to me. It reminded me
at different points of the work of Shirley Jackson. Books like "The
Haunting of Hill House" (1959), her great masterpiece, and her final book,
"We Have Always Lived in the Castle" (1962), with their remote
protagonists in retreat from a personal trauma, their houses full of mystery
and dark secrets, and their emphasis on atmosphere and the playful use of
language. It also reminded me of "The Yellow Wallpaper" (1890) by
Charlotte Perkins Gillman. Another classic horror story centered on the
perspective of alienated women, and the struggles against isolation, human
cruelty, and maladies of the mind. In terms of aesthetics, its cinematic
qualities, it reminded me of certain titles by M. Night Shyamalan. The M. Night
Shyamalan of films like The Sixth Sense (1999) and The Village (2004), with
their stark colour schemes, careful composition of shots, slow pace and sparse
use of sound, as well as the same delicate performances, the florid dialog
spoken as a whisper, the themes of trauma, ghosts and separation. Many
audiences have found this beautifully titled film forgettable, even boring, but
I was engrossed from beginning to end.
The Lynx [Stanisław Różewicz, 1982]:
Watched: Nov 05, 2019
Set in a small village during the Second World War,
the enigmatically-titled The Lynx is a forgotten masterwork about faith and
morality; about the struggle to see light in a world beset by darkness. Subtly
drawn, with gestures towards symbolic interpretation, the film grapples with
questions of integrity, as circumstances of war lead a young priest to ask if
murder is ever justified. In its visual austerity, its grappling with faith and
culpability and the rigidity of its performances, it feels like the missing
link between Robert Bresson's Diary of a Country Priest (1951) and Paul
Schrader's First Reformed (2017). In the lead role, Polish superstar Jerzy Radziwilowicz has never been more subdued, as his
character attempts to prevent the execution of a local farmer accused of
treason during the period of occupation. Director Stanisław Różewicz shoots the film in subdued colours
that bring out the cold austerity of the location and the wintry setting, with
brief interludes of black and white offering glimpses into the conflicted
subconscious of Radziwilowicz's priest. It's a powerful and engaging film that
presents still relevant and complex themes of belief, righteousness, and
personal identity.
Further reading at Lights in the Dusk: The Year in Film 2019 - Part One [6 February 2020], The Year in Film 2019 - Part Two [9 February 2020], The Year in Film 2019 - Part Three [21 February 2020], The Year in Film 2019 - Part Four [24 February 2020], The Year in Film 2019 - Part Five [22 March 2020], The Year in Film 2019 - Part Six [28 March 2020], The Year in Film 2019 - Part Seven [10 May 2020], The
Year in Film 2019 - Part Eight [17 October 2020]
