Angels in America – The Millennium Approaches – Act One: Bad News (October-November 1985) – Scene 9

Possibly one of the best scenes I have ever seen on a TV screen and the moment when I realised that the Angels in America mini-series was something incredibly special. The scene is almost word perfect from the play-page with only a few adaptations to suit Pacino’s rhythm as Roy Cohn. The most substantial change being a line delivered by James Cromwell who plays Roy’s doctor

“What are you doing, Roy?” – Play

“Why are you doing this Roy?” – Screenplay

Although similar in content I actually think that the screenplay was a fair update because the doctor knows exactly what Roy Cohn is doing by forcing the issue but does not understand why. Another reason why the updated script is possibly better than the older version is that Tony Kushner himself did all of the re-writes. An interesting and daring experiment, especially considering that The Millennium Approaches won him a Pulizter  for drama. It is hard to judge the quality of the whole text update by this one scene as the play is epic in scope and the mini-series is hours long. Plus, much to my sadness, I have never seen the play on stage so a direct aesthetic comparison is hard to procure.

However, this play created one of the most exciting television event of the last ten decades and a mini-series that expanded the imagination, did not pull any punches when it came to serious public and personal issues, got Al Pacino back on form (finally) and gave viewers a chance to see Emma Thompson act out an orgasm while flying through the air dressed as an angel.

This week’s awesome discovery: Nick Reding played Joe Pitt at the National in London in 1992. Look him up (and I will write about him later on).

Zack Snyder and “The bond of the theatre”.

Recently I was unfortunate enough to witness the incoherent mess that is Sucker Punch which is directed and outlined (I’ll explain why I will not use ‘written’ a bit later) by ‘the visionary’ Zack Snyder, the man who gave us 300 and Watchmen with their tight, tight spandex underpants and hyper-usage of slow motion.

Now, previously I had no particular problem with Zack Snyder’s approach to directing although I have to say that his ‘vision’ was always limited to the same checklist of ‘things to do to make my films cool’ which included overbearing music, loud colour schemes and a finger firmly pressed on the slow motion button (as mentioned before).

Beyond this narrow approach to directing there was also a couple of underlying issues that got in the way of his ‘vision’: script and character understanding. The two converge into one massive problem: He doesn’t seem to grasp the importance, or even concept, of either elements. Armed with brilliant source material from Frank Miller (300) and Alan Moore (Watchmen) he sacrifices any engagement or depth in favour of mad camera angles and frantic visuals. I did not really mind because I was quite content to slot both films into the ‘enjoyable mindless action flick’ category as I did not have much contact with either text before seeing the films.

One would think that after a handful of directorial adventures he would understand his limitations and possibly accept them in order to focus on what he does best: tight man-trousers and loud music (each is fine). One would be incredibly wrong. Because in the instance of Sucker Punch he decided to unleash his vision on all fronts by writing, producing and directing it himself. Big mistake.

I dream of seeing an actual copy of this particular script because in all likelihood it will be considerably shorter than average as he isn’t a great fan of dialogue (and can’t write it anyway) or the text will be incredibly, incredibly extensive. The second possibility could happen if he had decided to write up all the stage directions and music notations in extreme detail. He just can’t write, he can only outline the action. Hence the usage of outline rather than write earlier on.

Lets leave aside all comment on the gender politics of Sucker Punch as that would simply take too long and has been covered brilliantly by various others. Just google it. All that needs to be said is that all the female characters have been given a variety of film-stripperesque names such as Baby Doll, Sweet Pea and Amber without any sense of irony and they spend most of the film scantily clad wielding big guns.

The problem is that the film, like Mark Kermode pointed out, is just so mind-numbingly boring and stupid I couldn’t even be bothered to get angry at its misogyny. I simply could not care less. That is until right at the beginning of the third, and thankfully final, act of the movie when this particular line cropped up:

“The bond of the theatre.” – Blue Jones.

And all of a sudden I was instantly enraged. Let me explain why. This line is spat at the rebel group of strippers by their ‘master’/’owner’ just when their magnificently planned escape plot begins to unravel. Note to future escapees: Do not write extensive plan of escape in note form on the back of a black board which is in plain sight of everyone and can be discovered by simply turning said board around. Apparently this is supposed to be some sort of commentary on the relationships that can develop between people who practice and/or participate in stage work.

No! Zack Snyder. Simply: No! You are not allowed to reference the theatre in any way, shape or form when you do not have the slightest inkling of an idea about what you are referring to. It might have escaped your notice but a strip club (masquerading as a burlesque club, I don’t think he understands the difference there either) is not a theatre establishment. It might have theatrical elements but that does not a theatre make my friend. These unfortunate women (and by that I not only mean the characters but also the actresses in the film) might be performing but there is nothing artistic about a woman forced to gyrate in front of her captor in order for her, and her friends, to escape their clutches. You have not earned the right to even use the word ‘theatre’ as any type of metaphor, analogy or springboard for your infantile musings on the state of human existence.

ps. Beyond the misappropriation of the world ‘theatre’ in terms of human relationships he is also not equipped to use it when he has proven himself incapable of using the concept of silence. He never trusts either the script or the performers to supply the emotional groundwork for any scene but feels the need to underscore everything with hyper sound editing and overbearing (not to mention manipulative) use of music.

pps. As for the use of music I am also quite irritated that ‘the visionary’ Zack Snyder has forever tainted Björk’s Army of Me.

Mark Kermode and the running

This. Makes. Me. Happy.

(A future blog on Mark Kermode will follow in future, not immediate but soon.)

The Hall of Asgard vs. Hallgrímskirkja

Took a peak at Kenneth Branagh’s Thor trailer today, am still on the fence about the whole thing but am terrified that it will turn out like Ang Lee’s Hulk. However, best moment was easy to spot as it turns out that their design for the Hall of Asgard looks very very similar to Iceland’s own Hallgrímskirkja, which I find quite awesome I have to say.

Watch trailer:

http://thor-trailer.blogspot.com/

See photo:

Is it just me? Am paging Mr. Branagh for comment.

Small layover in Yann-Tiersen-land

and with a lovely ‘Goodbye’ to ‘Lenin’

Anthony Lane’s Poetry Corner

I derive deep and unashamed pleasure from watching Sally Potter’s Yes at least once a year. One of the few films in recent years to surprise me, mostly based on the fact that I had no clue going in that the entire script was in blank verse and that I didn’t actually notice until about fifteen minutes in. However, I am more than well-aware that viewed from a certain angle the film can be seen as incredibly pretentious and hugely flawed, most of the problems are to do with said script, its politics and rhyme schemes. Since I first saw it there have been many attempts to watch the film with a critical eye and yet it somehow manages to bypass all of my bullshit- and political-filters (often one and the same filter). Every time it goes straight for the emotional jugular, even to the point that I am a proud owner of a copy of the aforementioned text.

This does not mean that I do not have a certain sense of humour about the films that I cherish, on the contrary. (Although I get incensed when musicals are deemed an inferior genre, but that is another story.) When I first read Anthony Lane’s critique of Yes I was in floods of tears I laughed so hard. Absolutely spot on, well-argued, hideously funny and a small victory for film criticism everywhere when its authors are allowed to put their views into verse. Feast your eyes on this, and what a feast it is:

http://bit.ly/cmeNpE

White Dwarfs

“this is for those people

that hover and hover

and die on the ether peripheries”

– M. O.

ps. An entry on The English Patient is imminent.

So I Married an Axe Murderer

While flipping through the radio channels I dropped into the first bars of Saturday Night by the Bay City Rollers and was instantly transported years back to a very particular scene. The scene in question was not a moment in my own life but from a film made in 1993 which has, strangely, has a definitive presence in my film-watching life. The film in question, as the title of this post aptly gives away, is So I Married an Axe Murderer.

Just to make sure the feeling of love for this particular flick had not evaporated with time I located my VHS copy, pressed play and revisited old memories. And almost twenty years later it still holds ground. Rarely talked about but always remembered, for my parts, So I Married an Axe Murderer is a rough gem well worth revisiting.

A small film in big capable hands. Filled with cameos from grumpy comedians and directed by Thomas Schlamme, more famous for his TV work such as being the director of Sports Night and The West Wing where he also served as executive producer. Why he hasn’t directed more films is beyond me. It’s also a shame that Robbie Fox has disappeared from the cinema as the script is well written, often hysterically funny and bursting with good ideas (although I have a feeling a lot of the dialogue was improvised). According to the sacred text of IMDB he has one project in development his last outing was unfortunately In the Army Now with Pauly Shore in 1994, talk about a great downward spiral.

Here are some choice examples of the writing quality, and the film is packed with delicious anecdotes:

Tony: Charlie, two words: therapy.

and

Charlie: Hey Mom, I find it interesting that you refer to the Weekly World News as, “The paper.” The paper contains facts.
May: This paper contains facts. And this paper has the eighth highest circulation in the whole wide world. Right? Plenty of facts. “Pregnant man gives birth.” That’s a fact.

So I Married an Axe Murderer is far from perfect but despite myself I love its inconsistencies like the extra who turns up in the butcher-shop twice (obvious continuity error), that we never know what Charlie actually does or how Harriet has such a magnificent flat. Who cares? The film also veers into strange bylines, most of which have to do with Charlie’s friend Tony, played by an almost boyish Anthony LaPaglia, like Tony’s problems at work, their visit to Alcatraz and his journey to save Charlie. Most of which are fairly unnecessary but add extra charm.

By the end the film has run out of steam a little, veer downwards can be located exactly from the moment Charlie and Harriet head off to their honeymoon, but this minor error does not erase its many many qualities.

Still good, still funny and still totally hooked on the 90s.

ps. The poetry readings are the stuff of legend. Satirical and a perfect example of good bad writing, not to mention that Mike Myers’ delivery is spot on:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETPRsJ-exZw&feature=related

Little Lone Star

The moment where Chris Cooper is driving to see Elizabeth Pena in Lone Star under the tunes of this song is devastating.

Female force vs. Female sex-kittenry

Imagine my thrill when I found out that Lynda LaPlante, the writer behind the fantastic Prime Suspect starring the sumptuous and stern Helen Mirren, was penning a new female-driven series based on her character DC Anna Travis.

When it was first broadcast in 1991 Prime Suspect signaled a new era of procedural police drama with strong characters and great story texture. Helen Mirren played Jane Tennison a no-nonsense DCI whose ambitions was constantly being thwarted by a misogynist system. Twenty years on it’s shocking to see the blatant sexism which was common practice and is portrayed with great clarity. Note all the scenes where Tennison is the only female in a room, whether it’s with co-workers, interviewees or criminals, and the post-workday drink that her male co-workers share, she is never invited. The misogyny isn’t restricted to the workplace but filters through society as a whole as the male police officers often confront female witnesses with contempt and Tennison constantly struggles with juggling her personal life and her career, her domestic struggles with her partner (a wonderful glimpse of Tom Wilkinson) is fraught with negotiations and tension. Helen Mirren played her strong yet vulnerable; human.

From the first scene of Above Suspicion I sensed that this series definitely was not on the same track, and more importantly had veered considerably far off road. In one of our first glimpse of Travis she is seen as awkwardly treading through a muddy crime scene wearing her black designer shoes and trendy black miniskirt. Instant warning. Why isn’t she better prepared? Why does she show up at a crime scene looking like she is a secretary for corporation law firm? And it goes on because most of Kelly Reilly’s, who incidentally was in Prime Suspect 4, close ups seems to consist of her throwing her fashionably mussed and gloriously red hair about and pouting her lips. I think she definitely has screen presence and hints of acting chops but they are hard to locate in this particular outing. This time main female is just a vulnerable little girl, who occasionally has some insights, trying to survive in the big bad world.

Now let us turn to the wonderful Ciarán Hinds, no stranger to Lynda LaPlante either as he played a central character in Prime Suspect 3, who has spent most of his career under the radar. A long time inhabitant of the stage he got his film start in the infamous Excalibur which also brought us the talent of Gabriel Byrne and Liam Neeson. Since then he has mostly been in the shadows as a supporting player. A man of quiet intensity his slightest move, as shown in the fantastic Persuasion, can be instantly engaging. But he has another side to him which he pulls out of the bag, for reasons which elude me, with some frequency: The shouty strong-man. I tend to blame this streak on the Hollywood mentality where everything bigger is obviously better rather rather than on him as an actor, because the talent is most certainly there in spades. DCI Langton, his character in Above Suspicion, is unfortunately grounded in this method. Abrasive, testy and loud, really loud. Yes, the character is all of those things but it can be brought out in other ways than constant shouting.

The main problem that I have with it is that this personification makes his characters instantly less interesting in almost every case, even boring. He is infinitely more talented than that. There is a wonderful little scene in the first series of Above Suspicion where he has burst into Travis’ house to berate her, he does that a lot. After a solid thrashing there is an awkward silence and all of a sudden his eyes drop down, almost embarrassingly and he says: “God, you smell nice” in the softest of voices. That little line is far more effective than any number of the shouty speeches we have heard from him up to that point.

Not satisfied with the TV experience of Above Suspicion I made a point of picking up the first two novels of the series. Although not the best examples of the crime genre the are mildly more interesting as the sexual relationship of Travis and Langton is present from the first book (has barely started in the second TV series), Travis is portrayed as infinitely more intuitive (obviously thinking with her brain and not her hair) and slightly more awkward, plus the secondary characters get more room to breathe. However, I am still mildly annoyed at how infantile the Travis character can sometimes be and at the unnecessary length of the novel, nothing happens quite a lot. However, I am intrigued by one thing and that is the replacement of the independent profiler, whom Langton is supposedly sleeping with, in the original Red Dahlia to the role of the Commander in the TV series. It does give an interesting spin on Langton sleeping with his boss to get a leg up on the investigation, however it does annoy me how we never questions the fact that he is in charge of that relationship as well. The pure Alpha-male.

When all of these factors are added up one cannot help but feel that this significantly lowers the quality of the show, doesn’t help that it’s based on fairly shoddy writing. In stead of being the intellectually engaging experience of Prime Suspect this newest venture is lowered into being a run-of-the mill shlock. Although never boring it’s only mildly entertaining and it’s doubtful that I had ever watched the series if Ciarán Hinds had not been in a starring role. Recently it was announced that a third series had been given go signal and, ever the optimist, I have some hopes although I have a sinking feeling that it’s going to be much of the same. Shame.

I commented earlier that it is shocking to see the blatant and cruel misogyny that thrived twenty years ago but what is possibly even more shocking is that  today the Tennisons have almost disappeared from the screens completely and have been replaced by younger sex-kittenish Travis models set in a world which might have more female characters but they are more often than not pushed to the sidelines, as lower-ranked officers, hookers or murder victims.