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The
greatest film about conjuring and illusion is Orson Welles' F FOR
FAKE, itself a cinematic conjuring trick. Christopher Nolan's THE
PRESTIGE, however, offers it real competition. It's based on a novel
by Christopher Priest, one of our leading writers of science fiction
as a literature of ideas. Two Victorian magicians Angier and Borden
(Hugh Jackman and a cockney Christian Bale) become professional rivals
to a lethal extent after Angier's wife dies during a stage act as
a result of his colleague's preparations. As well as sabotaging each
other's performances they attempt to top them, and when one is unable
to reproduce the illusion of the Transported Man to his satisfaction
he approaches scientist Niklos Tesla (David Bowie) to build a device
that will achieve the effect in reality. Much more goes on - an assistant
(Scarlett Johansson) is used as another kind of device for acquiring
secrets, for instance - but the greatest complexity is both thematic
and narrative, with layers of narration that remind us how Nolan proved
his deftness in building elaborate structures with no loss of clarity
in MEMENTO. Like Priest's fiction, the film keeps science-fictional
technology to an absolute minimum, and concentrates on the beleaguered
psychology of its characters (as Nolan did in MEMENTO and indeed INSOMINA
and BATMAN BEGINS, of course). It's certainly a film to see more than
once, and reaffirms Nolan's status as a director of considerable intelligence.
At
the end of Paul Wieland's SIXTY SIX the young hero Bernie, having
survived a disastrous bar mitzvah attended by no-one except family,
finds fulfilment in supporting England in the World Cup final that
coincides with his would-be celebration. The point seems to be that
it's all right to be as Jewish as you like so long as you support
the England football team. In current terms, you might very well
read it as offering one notion of integration to minorities, in
which case I'm certainly a member of one, since I had to remind
myself what happened in the 1966 World Cup, not having cared at
the time or now. The idea seems symptomatic of the film itself,
which is a Jewish comedy of an especially lugubrious kind that tries
to merge with a more traditional kind of British film. Ben is a
lonely asthmatic with not much of a relationship with his obsessive-compulsive
disastrously unlucky tax-dodging father. The events might be funnier
if they were told as a stand-up; as it is, too many details just
seem sordid - the scene where our hero hides in a wardrobe while
the wife of his doctor (Stephen Rea) carries on an affair, or the
bar mitzvah itself, where someone tracks in droppings from the garden.
Even if the writer-director is Jewish, does that excuse the stereotypes?
They seem part of the determination to woo the British mainstream
at its lowest level with caricature Welsh, for instance, and gags
about generous cleavage. As Bernie, Gregg Sulkin does well in terms
of what's required of him (mostly one mournful note). His father
is played by the excellent Eddie Marsan, who came to my notice as
the understanding boyfriend in VERA DRAKE, where he's seen to better
advantage. The real moments of feeling all involve Helena Bonham
Carter as Ben's mother. She doesn't need the relentlessly wistful
score that nudges the audience in scene after scene, and neither
does the film. I must say I preferred Paul Wieland when he was writing
and directing Mr Bean, and I wonder if this is another case of the
comic writer growing too serious.
MISCHIEF
NIGHT chronicles a week in the tangled relationships of two families
on a Leeds estate, one Pakistani and one white. To begin with its
notion of racial equality or rather the way it avoids imbalance
is to have each family include a thief and a drug dealer. The surprise
is that writer-director Penny Woolcock packs in so much plot and
observation - enough for a film much longer than its ninety-three
minutes. This is a mixed blessing. It's certainly ambitious in its
scope, and sketches a decidedly bleak portrait of contemporary Leeds
outside the tourist areas (which of course can be applied to many
British towns). Gradually it becomes clear that most of the characters
have aspirations outside their current state - a Pakistani girl
threatened with an arranged marriage, the elder son of the white
family who becomes an initially unwilling baby-minder for a junkie
neighbour - even if the aspirations aren't always realised. There
are moments of moral ambiguity, as where the local fundamentalist
imam is ejected from the mosque by a Pakistani drug dealer. If anything,
the film contains too much material to resolve, and has to send
a bunch of its criminal characters off in a balloon to omit them
from the Mischief Night finale. Some of the resolutions are altogether
too pat, not least the imam's change of heart. Still, the film is
served by generally good performances, not least Kelli Hollis as
the narrator. The film's real centre may be seen as the relationship
between the younger children of the families - fine performances
by Holly Kenny and Qasim Akhtar. If the film invests most of its
hope in them, it's a touching notion, and equally it doesn't pretend
that everything has changed for the better. A flawed film but often
a rewarding one.
Anthony
Mingella's BREAKING AND ENTERING is something of a companion piece
too. Jude Law is an architect working on a Kings Cross project while
growing apart from his wife (Robin Wright Penn) and her autistic
daughter (Poppy Rogers). The office he shares with his partner (Martin
Freeman) is robbed by a young cat burglar (Rafi Gavron), whom Law
eventually tracks home, only to become involved with the boy's Bosnian
mother (Juliette Binoche). This film also attempts an overview of
how we live now in Britain, more in terms of moral relativity than
integration. It's sensitively played by the two principals, and
Binoche is especially moving, but other cast members are sidelined
to the extent that they're almost simple thematic statements (Ray
Winstone's policeman) or metaphors (Vera Farmiga as a loquacious
East European prostitute, whose integration - I use the term differently
here - into the plot is rather more convenient than plausible).
The final shot slips out of focus and stays that way for the duration
of the end credits, and that is a kind of metaphor for one method
of the film (ironic, you might think, given that the Law character
explicitly accuses himself of using metaphors as a means of distancing
himself from his life, unless you take this as a confession of self-knowledge
on the part of the writer-director). Still, it's clear-eyed enough
about its characters and their behaviour, not least the architect's
tendency to take on incomplete families for his own emotional reasons.
Fans of Minghella's tendency to find wistful romance in social and
political observation - as in THE ENGLISH PATIENT - should be won
over, and I intermittently was.
On
the whole, however, LITTLE CHILDREN is the more considerable film
along surprisingly similar thematic and structural lines. The actor
Todd Field gained plaudits as a director for IN THE BEDROOM, and
this new work is equally sensitive with difficult material. The
title clearly doesn't refer merely to the children at the playground
where parents Sarah Pierce (Kate Winslet) and Brad Adamson (Patrick
Wilson) meet, as a result of which they eventually have an affair.
It can certainly be seen as relating in more than one way to the
local paedophile, a remarkable performance by Jackie Earle Haley,
but like the central couple he's viewed with great clarity but no
overt judgement. The film is narrated by an omniscient authorial
voice, presumably taken over from the original novel, but occasionally
this seems redundant - for instance, when it announces Brad's wife
Kath's realisation that he and Sarah are involved in their affair,
perfectly well conveyed by the editing and Jennifer Connelly's understated
acting. As a portrait of the secret life of Middle America it's
gently persuasive and ultimately redemptive, not to say moving.
On
DVD, WARRIOR KING is the new showcase for Tony Jaa, the extraordinary
Thai martial artist who previously stunned us with ONG-BAK. This
time travels to Sydney in search of elephants stolen from his village.
They prove to have ended up in a Thai restaurant run by the Chinese
mafia and serving endangered species for the uncaring gourmet. As
well as this he's up against corrupt policemen, drug dealers and
giant murderous opponents. The early scenes offer James Bond-style
chases and hand-to-hand combats too often edited in MTV style, even
if some of the stunts are wonderful but from around the midpoint
onward - a single take as elaborate as any by Scorsese or De Palma,
as our hero fights his way up four floors of the secret section
of the restaurant - the film becomes breathtaking and also astoundingly
violent (no surprise that it's rated 18). Jaa may not be as much
fun as Jackie Chan, but he's certainly as agile and inventive. The
excellent two-disc set from Premier Asia offers numerous interviews
and behind-the-scenes featurettes (not least a multi-angle analysis
of some of the fights) but would be worth the price for the fine
anamorphic widescreen transfer of the film alone, with solid optional
DTS.
Ramsey's
website is:
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