My Fringe: Part I

I'm arriving in a heap to this year's festival. Happily though, I am here now and only a few days late. I allowed myself some me-time and have been separated from my laptop for perhaps a little too long. It's been a busy few weeks. A job rejection which was sad but it did result in freelance work and oodles of positive feedback. I was lucky enough to get along to the Olympics on Saturday afternoon which was fantastic and utterly astonishing. The place is something to behold and I got to glimpse Usain Bolt doing his 100m heats which was, of course, wonderful. He is extraordinarily tall. And fast. Finally managed to see The Dark Knight Rises and I may be the only person who was underwhelmed by it. But that's another blog for another day. Regrettably still not seen Spidey... Something to remedy next week. Oh, and I hit a personal best on Tetris of 216 lines.

Attempting a bit more this year from reviewing magic, theatre and performance for the Skinny to venue reviewing (and some comedy) for Across the Arts as well as some podcasting for Subcity. Oh, and some filmed reviews live at the venues. All that around work, it's sure to be interesting...

Monday was prety much an orienteering exercise, slowly, calmy and gently immersing myself into the festival, much as one does with a hot bath.

I'd yet to try a freebie magic show so I went along to Wet Paint at Le Monde on George Street. Illusion-designers (!) Neil Kelso and Ben Hart perform a variety show, each popping on and off stage and accompanied by a miniature jazz band. Kelso, fresh from compering the Magic Festival gala show last month is a wonderfully sweet and mischevious-looking man and his tricks, though basic, largely involve storytelling, playing to his strengths. Ben Hart opts for more interesting illusions with even more interesting props from a sword and scissors to a lightbulb. His final illusion involving the latter is particularly fun and unexpected; something we’re seeing less of in modern magic performances. It’s not as slick as it could be, with our performers all-too-often ‘handing over’ to one another rather than working together. When the two finally perform an joint-illusion the contrast works well and there’s an effortless banter. More of that would have been nice. Wet Paint is worth a visit if you fancy some magic and perhaps sells itself short being a free show.

Some fantastic lamp-art at Geoge Sq Gardens

I popped along to see The Vocal Orchestra at the Udderbelly on Bristo Square. Seven mouths and seven mics, these guys are amazing; beat-boxing, singing, dancing, re-creating Mortal Combat, drum kits and even a time-machine. Each performer is given a chance to break from the group and present their individual talents and while the sound effects are unbelievable, the vocal range is another happy surprise. Energetic they work together and create genuine excitement with what they do as they bounce across the stage. The song choice was, at times, obvious and more of a musical mix-up might have encouraged this talented septet to push themselves further. With tickets costing up to £16, The Vocal Orchestra is at the more expensive end of the Fringe but it's also a highly polished show that earns its asking price.


Here we go day two…

Edinburgh International Film Festival: Part II

And now for a comedic look at societal behaviour...

Set largely in one of the ubiquitous and bizarre taxi cabs that weave through the streets of Manilla, MNL 143 follows Ramil, a middle-age taxi driver looking for his long-lost girlfriend. Despite Rami’s intense loneliness, his job results in all manner of encounters which he genuinely seems to enjoy… for the most part.
The film is often funny, the narrative making sure of this with colourful characters popping into Ramil’s taxi, squeezing next to one another and abruptly leaping out when they reach their stop. We watch through a camera seemingly affixed to the rear-view mirror, though it often travels through the sweaty bodies into the rear of the car. During each turbulent journey, Ramil keeps his cool as he is barked at by aggravated commuters, many of whom turn on one another. Anyone who has worked with the public will immediately identify with the exchanges here and find comedy in the madness.

harrassed commuters in MNL 143



Throughout the film commuters fiddle with iPhones, cameras, video-recorders and iPads and there’s constant sending and receiving of text messages. This is perhaps a nod to our technology-obsessed culture but there’s comedy to be had here too. A giggling young man records a fellow passenger whose testicle has slipped through a hole in his shorts and exclaims, ‘This will go viral’.



Ramil lunches with some fellow taxi drivers in MNL 143



The web of smaller narratives within Ramil’s own are fun to watch. Sadly our protagonist is never able to resolve his own dilemma and the film lacks any twist or sense of finality which is a bit of a let-down after such a frenetic build-up.

I enjoyed my first taste of Philippine cinema. MNL 143 creates an entertaining balance of sadness and comedy in a rough and alien environment, even if it does struggle to find closure.

Frank and Roxy in God Bless America

From one aspect of social commentary to another, God Bless America takes a scathing look at celebrity culture. Frank has just lost his job. His ex-wife is getting re-married and his tantrum-throwing daughter wants nothing to do with him. His neighbour parks too close to his car. Frank also has an inoperable brain tumour. Parked in front of his television he watches the deterioration of human behaviour on grotesque reality TV shows (one altercation involves a woman flinging a used tampon at an enraged co-star) and decides we have suffered too much freedom of speech. On his trigger-happy journey to rid society of its social ills – and rude behaviour - Frank forms an unlikely alliance with a teenage misfit who shares his discontent.
The film nails the sense of stupidity and narcissism that saps so much air time. The story itself though is over the top, and it wasn’t long before I became bored with the premise. It seems to me that stupid people ought to be ignored, rather than targeted for conversion… or death. For this reason, I found it difficult to engage with the plot or care about Frank’s progress.
That said, this is perhaps the first film of its kind, lampooning reality TV shows and celebrity judges, and I think it’s likely to attract audiences. The scathing humour and bizarre shoot-em-ups are amusing enough and well-acted with our Bonnie and Clyde-inspired duo, even if the self-righteous superiority can, on occasion, become tiresome.
An engaging enough film and if the cathartic story appeals to you, it’s likely to hit the spot.

For more of my film reviews visit

http://www.acrossthearts.co.uk

Edinburgh International Film Festival: Part 1

copyright Hannah Houston @ EIFF

This is my first year at the Edinburgh International Film Festival and all the more exciting for it. Sifting through the catalogue, it quickly becomes difficult to decide what to see as each description is awash with enticing and honeyed words of glorious cinematic promise. But then that’s all part of the experience. I’m a horror fan so the ‘Late Night Movies’ selection seems like a good place to start.

David Bruckner’s V/H/S follows a group of testosterone-driven thugs as they break into a house seeking a video cassette that will, apparently, make them a fortune. The house has hundreds of videos as well as a corpse seated in front of numerous television screens stuck on static. Of course, the videos are duly inserted and played to reveal a grim anthology of horrific tales.



There’s an edginess to V/H/S which is pleasantly uncomfortable. The constant hand-held camera narrative (both within the videos and the group themselves who film their exploits) is relentless and given what the film is trying to do, it works well enough.

V/H/S

While the found-footage genre has proven to be effective as a horror tool, V/H/S manages to create another tension. Instead it shows what we ought not to do and the dramatic consequences of doing so. The movie opens with the youths guffawing as they film their deviant behaviour; grabbing a woman in a car park, lifting up her top as she screams and clutches onto her exposed breasts. The video periodically cuts to one of the boys clandestinely filming himself as he is about to have sex There’s an immediate establishment of the forbidden being caught on camera and it seems we ought not to be watching such things.


It’s a nice idea and more importantly, a relatively interesting one. Sadly the film quickly becomes cluttered and muddled betwixt stories of horror in the woods, vampiric creatures, haunted houses, sacrifices and even a Skype call with a lurking demon. The final one is, admittedly, a refreshingly good watch.

Visually the story works but each video seems just long enough to arouse interest before abruptly ending and too many questions are left unanswered. Perhaps this is its aim but audiences are, I think, looking for more. At nearly two hours, the film is drastically over-long and it’s a big ask to expect the audience to stay tuned. Like most horrors of late, V/H/S ushers its viewer through each tale of the unexplained but lacks any broader coherent story, relying heavily on tired shockers.

Henrik Mestad in Jackpot

Norwegian comedy horror Jackpot (Arme Riddere), on the other hand, grabs you from the off and keeps you guessing throughout. Adapted from the Jo Nesbo book and directed by Magnus Martens, this is an interesting tale of absurdity and greed.

At a plastic Christmas tree factory in Norway, three ex-cons and their supervisor have just won the football pools. However relationships quickly fall apart with disastrously gory and vulgar results.

With a distinctive and strong cast, the apparent mystery is played out with intrigue and comic timing, particularly visible on the faces of cop Solor (Henrik Mestad) and our unlucky suspect, Oscar (Kyrre Hellum). Close shots of their bright faces and emotionless expressions are startlingly dark and funny when spliced with the inept dismembering of bodies.

There are a couple of scenes where the gallows humour feels laboured and the slickness ebbs away as our writer seems to try a little too hard to make us laugh. However, the film sculpts humour into every scene, the majority of which are bang on. The Christmas tree factory is a wonderful setting as the overweight and grubby ex-cons smoke and hurl insults at one another while they check each miniature white tree for quality control.

Slickly cut, well-paced and directed and accompanied by a solid musical score, Jackpot delivers a tight and funny black comedy. It’s not difficult to find elements of the Coen brothers in the twisting and turning plot and Tarantino in the splattering of limbs but the film finds a voice of its own in its unique sense of humour and setting.

John C. Reilly in Tim and Eric's Billion Dollar Movie

It’s difficult to like any of the characters in the film but it’s easy to root for them. Jackpot has its let-downs but they are minimal and happily, not enough to detract from an individual and taut black comedy. The film doesn’t linger in your mind too long afterwards but it does entertain and whisk you along with it as it goes.

From horror to comedy, Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie seems promising in cast alone; Will Ferrell, John C. Reilly, Jeff Goldblum, Robert Loggia and – astonishingly – a cameo from Steven Spielberg. Sadly, and I hate to write this, I despaired over what I saw. Writer and directors, Eric Wareheim and Tim Heidecker play themselves making a movie with a large budget (see title). When they blow all the cash they try to make the money back by revitalising a failing shopping mall.

The film strikes me as a desperate post-modernist tale as we see the movie-within-a-movie and the movie-within-a-movie-within-a-movie. This, however, isn’t the problem. Minutes in, I found myself squirming in my seat at the relentlessly bad jokes, the wooden acting and an increasingly absurd ‘plot’ unsupported by any clear comedy, characterisation or narrative. Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie creates its own reality with zany events and caricatures. Sadly it refuses to operate within the framework it creates and things become very boring very quickly.

Tim and Eric have garnered a loyal following and achieved success in DVD releases and online sketches and perhaps this transition to film is merely a mis-step. As I type, I feel compelled to acknowledge my difficulty with absurdist humour and as much as I try to understand it, I find it consistently irksome. Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie reminded me of that today.

Still, if I could direct you back to my initial excitement as I read the energetic blurbs for each film and even throw in a platitude of my own as I point out there are plenty more fish in the sea. Rent-A-Cat (yes, a film about renting our cats) is a top priority over the next few days and with Pixar’s Brave closing the festival, it only seems fitting that I take in some of the many animations making their debut.

copyright Hannah Houston @ EIFF

For more of my film and theatre reviews visit www.acrossthearts.co.uk

Film Review: Beauty (Skoonheid)

@ The Filmhouse

It’s difficult to know what to make of this film. It dips between mildly engaging, melancholic and shockingly brutal and left me pondering gay cinema and what it’s really about.

Francois is a middle-aged husband running a relatively successful timber business in South Africa. He is tormented with his sexuality as he drunkenly stumbles through sordid and debauched private outings which he later fervently laments. The film opens with him having married off one of his daughters. The panoramic, voyeuristic direction immediately establishes his fascination with his stunningly beautiful ‘nephew’ Christian as he intently gazes upon him from across the room at the reception.

Much of the film is shot this way, silently or accompanied by ominous muted tones as our protagonist struggles with his alienation from the lives of those around him. He stands still and alone, his glassy stare devouring his seemingly happy surroundings. Christian, on the other hand, is animated, sexy and effortlessly charming to all he meets. It’s not difficult to see how Francois can never be part of Christian’s world but Beauty follows his attempts to do so.

As a result, there’s a cumulative intensity to the events. Characters’ faces are depicted closely, through unchanging angles that linger longer than feels comfortable. As such, the tension becomes, at times, unbearable.

Despite this, the pace of the film feels too slow and when we finally arrive at the truly shocking and brutal climax, it is terrifying to watch. I’m loathed to go too much into the scene itself but our reaction (certainly mine) is that of severe discomfort at the visceral callousness of the violence that suddenly fills the screen. This would be fine if the story had engaged or aroused any strong empathy but up to this point, it has not yet managed to do so. Characters are fundamentally uninteresting and unexplained so there’s little sense of understanding at this sudden plot twist.

For me, Beauty fails because it paints a formulaic portrait of the gay man struggling to come to terms with his sexuality and offers nothing more. It seems the director deems the struggle interesting enough without going to any lengths to colour his characters. For this reason the story has become boring, which is a shame. Surely there are countless aspects of homosexuality which are just waiting to be explored. Are we not tired of this particular journey of repressed sexuality? Personally, I’m ready for something a little more meaty and I would suggest gay audiences may feel the same.

What’s worse, following the climax, the plot releases its grip on the viewer and becomes stale. The event in question is glossed over, nothing is explained, there is no transformation and in fact, Christian disappears entirely. Beauty fails to offer any explanation or understanding of the characters’ behaviour that it has so eagerly followed.

Watching Beauty, I am unsatisfied. I wonder that maybe I find the plot boring where others will be fascinated. I yearn for more complexity, more understanding and more thoughtfulness about homosexuality in cinema. One need only watch the emotionally charged and socially relevant Milk to see that homosexuality is capable of being part of powerful and relevant cinema.

Film Review: Monsieur Lazhar

Monsieur Lazhar @ The Filmhouse

A young schoolboy arrives early for class one morning to find his teacher has hanged herself. As the pupils struggle to come to terms with the horror of what has taken place in their classroom, a new teacher arrives who seems determined to help them cope. As the plot slowly unravels, we discover Monsieur Lazhar is also trying to come to terms with similar events in his own life.

Often quiet and subdued, Monsieur Lazhar only shows fleeting moments of emotion and deep connection to his pupils. Refreshingly, the film refuses to dote on the tired teacher-meets-pupil-and-rediscovers-life scenario but rather finds more power in exploring the anger of tragedy and how those left behind must try to comprehend it. The two are often incongruous and that’s fine.

At times there is a coldness about the way Monsieur Lazhar behaves towards his class. In turn, the children display arrogance, immaturity and even callousness towards one another as well as their mysterious new teacher. The film understands character flaws and makes no attempt to hide them. Again, audience’s notions of the teacher and pupil are subverted and the result is a believable story.

In one scene, Sophie, a young pupil, reads aloud a poem of shocking honesty about the events to befall the school. While this is hushed up by teachers and feared by pupils, Monsieur Lazhar encourages her to make sense of what she is going through. There are a number of brief but tender exchanges between the two which go some way to helping them out of their loneliness and these moments envelop the audience.

This is a curious film and all the more watchable for it. Death is not merely tragic and sad but it can be selfish and devastating. As adults, we like to think we have the mechanisms to cope and accept but Monsieur Lazhar dares to suggest there’s far more to it than that.

Review - Derren Brown: The Conversation

@ The Edinburgh Science Festival with Richard Wiseman

We’ve a fascination with celebrities. This much is obvious. Not content with merely digesting their work, we have a hunger for the people themselves; we want to know what they do to relax, how they devise their performances and what drives them. Derren Brown is motivated by people. He has an interest in what makes us tick and he combines this with extraordinary magic. Obvious then that we should want to strip him of his evening suit, pop him in a pair of jeans and sit him on a couch with a fellow magician (and psychology expert) to pick his brain. Welcome to The Conversation.

The world of magic and illusion is so often met with sneers and disinterest at clichéd and twee tricks which have long since lost their whimsy. Derren’s work is anything but. He has a love of parrots and taxidermy and after dappling with hypnosis in-between studying law he graced the restaurants of Bristol as a wandering magician before his big break with Channel Four. The real interest of The Conversation though, is getting a peek into how his mind works and he openly discusses the thoughts that go through his head while performing.

Scrutinising Derren’s inner-workings is fascinating, though in truth few of us expect he’ll let anything too interesting slip. What strikes you most - and this is true of his on-stage persona – is his unassuming nature. He chats happily; listening, pausing and responding with earnest as he chews over each question. While his methods are obviously shrouded in secrecy, he shares with us what he can. His most recent show, Svengali, requires a couple to come onstage and he talks us through selecting the right candidates; she must be quiet and slightly nervous while her male companion must not be too cocky otherwise the illusion will fail.

Stage work aside, he talks fondly of Trick of the Mind and reminisces about Trick or Treat (a particularly dark series where a victim is chosen and receives tutelage from our magician culminating in a dramatic trick… or treat). He speaks frankly and admits the most fun was had working for longer periods with individuals in helping them overcome fears and phobias. Hero at 30,000 Feet remains his favourite show to date, something he describes as ‘very special and meaningful’. When asked if these types of shows are perhaps unnecessarily dark or intense for the those involved he defends his work, arguing reality tv shows (for which he shows considerable distain) are far more sinister than anything he does and in fact all the participants emerge feeling happy to have taken part.

photo by Kenny Mathieson

Derren admits he got into magic for the reason so many do; he was an odd-ball youth with a desire to impress and astound. The problem, he says, is that you can’t talk about the really interesting stuff without giving away your craft so really it almost works against you.

Though the reason for his initial interest in conjuring has since worn off, it seems to have become something altogether more special. Watching him speak about his work, there’s an obvious curiosity - and infallible respect – for people. While the magic is flawless and the routines complex, he never fails to light up at the astonished response. There’s an unmasked joy and humour to what he does which is free from ego, pretention or flamboyancy. Perhaps the root of his success lies here. The transition in his work from mind-reading telly fodder to intricate studies of individual behaviour and investigative projects certainly suggests he has moved on from traditional magic and in fact found something far more interesting for himself.

The Conversation was a treat. I say ‘was’ because such a show is unlikely to be repeated and those of us who were lucky enough to attend left feeling intrigued by the enigmatic performer who really just seems like a terribly nice man.

Film review: The Monk

@ The Filmhouse

Seventeenth century Madrid and a baby is left on the doorstep of a monastery. There he is raised and becomes a celebrity of sorts as his fervent sermons captivate the townsfolk. The arrival of a creepy, mask-wearing young ward marks the beginning of the end for our fated protagonist in this adaptation of the gothic classic.

There are shortcomings with The Monk. The lengthy source-story necessitates a quickly-spilling narrative for its film counterpart that may not sweep you along with it. Viewers are confronted with black magic, religious fervour, complex relationships and an oedipal struggle in the midst of Ambrosio’s Faustian downfall. The execution of the supernatural errs on the side of clunky and anti-climactic but it’s not a deal breaker. To enjoy The Monk you must surrender to the gothic and embrace the themes, rather than scrambling to bring logic – and at times pace - to the plot.

Where the film does succeed is in establishing itself as a truly gothic thriller. It roughly and uncomfortably reflects the worst ideas we have of ourselves from the off; the disturbing opening depicts a man confessing to repeatedly raping his young niece while Ambrosio listens, emotionlessly offering avenues of redemption.

Our abhorrence never really shifts and while Ambrosio’s faith at first seems unshakeable, the audience is never comforted by his resolve. The film unashamedly presents the best and worst of religious fervour, from examining the consequences of blind faith to suddenly shifting to highly-respected members of the Catholic Church who display an astonishing capacity for cruelty.

Mood lighting of damp stairways, bare bed chambers and the nun’s quarters is carefully crafted to reflect the dark loneliness experienced by the characters. There’s intensity to the scenes depicting the faces of desperate prisoners gazing through small rusty gaps in their black cells. The film consistently frames each scene beautifully and while some of the camerawork may seem outdated – such as the fading in and out – for the most part it communicates, in true gothic fashion, the beauty and history of the monastery and the monsters that emerge from within.

There are horror elements at play here too, particularly in the character of Valerio whose omnipresence and stark appearance creates an unyielding sense of anxiety. Cassel’s portrayal of Ambrosio is nuanced and understated, making his fall from grace all the more watchable and curious and we are left pitying him in his final moments.

The Monk is a grim tale. Perhaps the foreignness of the film, both in characters and setting, makes it hard to experience as a morality tale for our generation. Perhaps not. The joy of the Monk is the extremity of its message. It’s stark, unapologetic, well-acted and chilling, firmly earning its gothic status.

For more of my film reviews visit www.acrossthearts.co.uk