THE CORE
Friday 28th March 2003
Stratford Picture House, London E15 VISIT

So there’s this disaster that could destroy the Earth and the first effects are starting to be felt. There’s a moment when a scientist tells an assembled group that everyone will die unless action is taken immediately. So the US government spends an enormous amount of money to send a team that must face repeated danger wearing space suits, explode a nuclear weapon and save the planet. Welcome to the plot of Armageddon or any number of other apocalyptic science fiction films over the years.

But when there’s a winning formula that allows the opportunity for some great special effects, why change it? So welcome to ‘The Core’, where the danger facing Earth is not a meteor but the discovery that the Earth’s core has stopped spinning. And welcome to a plot that is far, far more ludicrous than almost anything in the genre.

Actually, to be fair, whilst films like Armageddon suffer from an huge overdose of gung-ho American patriotism, the people who wrote ‘The Core’ have made no attempt to come up with anything other than a utterly silly blockbuster. In fact, subversively, the reason the Earth’s core has stopped spinning, threatening to microwave everyone by removing it’s magnetic field, is apparently the result of a secret military experiment, Project Destiny, designed to create earthquakes on demand. The stupidity of the story is instead largely embraced, the characters given well-delivered comic one-liners and we are just expected to accept that a scientist can work out the problem on his own and that a solution can be found in next to no time. It’s all just a prelude anyway to blowing things up in a spectacular fashion.

As the daft plot zipped along, I have so say that I enjoyed the first part of the film immensely. The crash landing of the Space Shuttle in that LA aqueduct where film car chases are usually held was great fun, as was the ‘pigeons gone mad’ scene in Trafalgar Square (although the destruction of the Coliseum in Rome was less impressive, with decidedly average computer generated effects). In seemingly no time, the ship capable of carrying the handsome male lead, the beautiful female lead and the rest of the archetypal supporting characters to the Earth’s molten core was constructed. Then, in a journey that reminded me of Dennis Quaid hurtling though human blood vessels in a miniaturised craft in Innerspace, it was onward into danger and a chance to gradually kill off most of the crew in pursuit of ultimate success.

Overall, this blatant crowd-pleaser worked on its own level, although there were a few things that didn’t. Quite why a great actor like Stanley Tucci chose to play the character of pompous ideas-stealing genius Dr Zimsky is a mystery. His heart couldn’t have been in it and as the supposedly ‘bad scientist’, he just wasn’t bad enough (Gary Oldman in Lost in Space was a proper ‘bad scientist’). Similarly, the general who endangers the lives of the crew by seeking to use Project Destiny when contact is lost (and who is thwarted by a computer geek, just like in Armageddon), is simply not threatening enough. Imagine a kind-hearted soul, the opposite of Donald Sutherland’s insane general in Outbreak. The special effects underground are, it has to be said, less exciting than those on the surface and the film is definitely about a half-hour too long. It really started to drag at the end.

‘The Core’ will in a few years be there with Armageddon and Independence Day, in amongst the DVDs that always seem to be in the sales. But as stupid blockbusters go, it is mindlessly enjoyable and far better than some other explosive action films I have seen, notably the terrible Sum of All Fears and xXx. So if it’s raining and you don’t want anything too deep, there are worse ways to waste a couple of hours than this.

RAINDANCE EAST FESTIVAL: NEAR EAST SHORTS
Tuesday 25th March 2003
Genesis Mile End Cinema, London E1 VISIT

I’ve decided not to count this set of six shorts against my total for films seen this year. I wouldn’t probably have attended had it not been for ‘Kalbe’s World’, which is written, produced and directed by a friend. Still, that’s no reason not to write my impressions of the programme, which included four short films and two close to half-hour documentaries.

‘The Sandwich’ ostensibly told the story of a man working in a sandwich shop and coping with his girlfriend’s drug-induced death. It was, however, the sort of film that gives film festivals a bad name for screening pointless, pretentious drivel made by people who shouldn't be allowed within a mile of a Super-16 camera. It was made even worse by some truly wooden acting. I suppose it takes a certain amount of courage to abandon any pretence of a script and just film any old rubbish, edit it and pass it off as ‘art.’ But sadly when it is aired with other films that demonstrate a greater degree of energy, talent and skill, the filmmakers must have realised they would be found out.

Although I bet they live in Shoreditch and think they are terribly clever, so perhaps they didn’t realise.

‘Looking Out for George’ has two men in bed on a hospital ward. One, Bill, describes what he can see from his window down in the park below to try and shake the other, George, who is on the point of death, from his misery. A slight but quite sweet film, the denouement reveals that the view from Bill’s window is not over a park but an ordinary street, as Bill begins his routine with a new patient.

‘Rave Against the Machine’ was the best of the six films, helped undoubtedly by being the most well resourced, with backing from Channel 4. It tells the story of young musicians who kept the music scene alive in Sarajevo, Bosnia’s capital, during the long siege of the city by the Yugoslav army. Jumping between images of the war, interviews with band members and DJs and mad footage of gigs, it managed in just 24 minutes to explain how music kept people sane in the most desperate circumstances. The film also tells how the people of the city were introduced to dance music by the intrepid pioneers from Desert Storm, driving over the mountains to organise a legendary New Year’s Eve party, and how the energy died with the end of war and the dominance of ‘modern folk’ music. Funny, inspiring and a reminder that even in the midst of war, positive life-affirming events can be created, this film deserves to be shown by its sponsors on terrestrial television.

‘Kalbe’s World’ was also excellent, portraying the life of a young Asian teenager living on an estate in Tower Hamlets. It focuses on his relationship with his sisters and his attitudes towards women, college and his friends. Kalbe is a disarming, sympathetic and funny subject to document, a reminder of many people I know or who have met. Although at times the sound was a bit off and the film would have benefited from a little more editing, his story was told with humour and great insight into life as an 18 year old in east London. Still, I did wonder whether some of the audience who laughed at Kalbe’s ignorant homophobia would have done so if he had been a white kid making racist remarks – I hope not, but then queer-bashing retains a certain acceptability and most people can't fall back on youthfulness as a excuse for not knowing any better.

Lastly, ‘3-D Viewer’ and ‘Two to Tangle’ were two five minute shorts, the first a dull and uninvolving piece about children captivated by the arrival of a stranger in town with a Picture Viewer showing the marvels of the world. Sadly, I wasn’t captivated. The second film shows a leather clad dominatrix walking into a boxing gym and admiring a young boxer working out with a punch bag. This film brilliantly wins over those watching with its ending: taking a knife after the boxer has pounded the bag, the woman cuts it open to reveal her partner, a man in a Gimp mask and bondage gear, curled up inside. After picking himself up, the pair apologetically leave. I seem to remember something similar at the beginning of the latest Bond movie but this is still a smart and funny little film.

A mixed bag then, with 'Rave Against the Machine' and 'Kalbe's World' easily the best. Apparently 'Kalbe's World' will not be receiving further screenings but keep an eye out for 'Rave Against the Machine' if it gets shown on Channel 4.

EQUILIBRIUM
Sunday 23rd March 2003
Cineworld Ilford VISIT

Tonight in Hollywood, some very good films will win Oscars, as will some deemed worthy by the Academy’s impossibly strange electorate. The year’s best film – Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers – will probably not win Best Picture, but then the Oscars have never been fair. But what of the UK releases in Oscar week, this mighty celebration of the filmmaking art? Oh dear, I knew weeks like this would come. We have Evelyn, a syrup pudding if ever I saw one, starring Pierce Brosnan. And two very dodgy sounding comedies, Just Married and National Security, the latter in particular looking like a crime against humanity. Whilst I have been keeping The Pianist in my back pocket for such an occasion, it felt too downbeat, too depressing, at a time when we (by which I mean, our government that ignores its people) have just begun an illegal war against Iraq.

This is a moment for mindless escapism. For a blatant Matrix rip off stuffed full of actors you vaguely recognise but can’t quite name. And Sean Bean. ‘Equilibrium’ – your moment had arrived.

Although Saddam Hussein’s appearance in the back-story introducing the, erm, ‘plot’ almost ruined everything, ‘Equilibrium’ basically delivered the goods in the no-brainer stakes. Was it any good? That would be missing the point. There is a moronically simplistic plot borrowed from better films/books, about a post Apocalyptic dystopia where emotion has been outlawed and feelings banished through a drug called Prozium (sounds vaguely familiar…). Anything likely to encourage ‘sense crime’, like perfume or books or the Mona Lisa, is incinerated (rather like in Fahrenheit 451). People betray each other without hesitation, there is a ruler, ‘Father’, whose face appears on giant screens, and an untamed region beyond the city (all familiar from 1984). Christian Bale, who starred in last year’s Reign of Fire, plays John Preston, a member of the Clerics, sort of black robed warrior-priests, whose job is to track down and eliminate ‘sense offenders’ (reminiscent of Blade Runner). Preston stops taking his medicine, for reasons I already cannot remember, and starts to develop emotions, spurred on by listening to Beethoven, feelings for a woman he has arrested – and a lovely little puppy (I swear, I am not making this up!). Then after some tiresome toing and froing, he hooks up with the resistance for the big finale.

Even in a plot as daft as this, there are enormous holes: in a city supposedly without emotion, people keep grinning inanely or thumping tables in anger. Let’s not even ask how families can seemingly still exist and how couples can still produce children (do they have another drug to 'get their groove on'? Viagra maybe?). Who cares? The main reason for seeing this film is the aforementioned Matrix rip off, whereby the Clerics are trained in gun-kata, a martial art based on the use of firearms. The sadly too infrequent fight scenes are hugely fun to watch, even if it is impossible not to recognise where in the Matrix they have been pinched from. Even Bale’s trenchcoat is lifted from Keanu Reeves’ iconic outfit. Bale is, nevertheless, impressive as the cold-blooded, impassive fighter and the final samurai sword fight is gloriously gory. I have no doubt that this film will have little trouble attracting a cult following.

Would I recommend seeing this film? Well no, not particularly. But I would recommend the fight scenes, so when this comes out on DVD, maybe pop down the video shop and check them out. Meanwhile, 'Equilibrium' is a harmless enough reminder that this year sees not one but two Matrix films. I can hardly wait.

CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND
Saturday 15th March 2003
Stratford Picture House, London E15 VISIT

Like Catch Me If You Can, ‘Confessions of a Dangerous Mind’ is a colourful film about the life of an extraordinary character, set in an era – the 60s and 70s – that directors just love. Whilst the story of a teenage con artist in Catch Me If You Can may be greatly exaggerated, however, it is basically true. The story of Chuck Barris, creator of US television hits the Gong Show and the Dating Game (copied here as Blind Date) is, on the other hand, undoubtedly pure fantasy. It is based on Barris’ autobiographical claims that, as well as being a successful TV producer, he was also a part-time hitman for the CIA, responsible for 33 kilings. He alleges that he used his role as chaperone for Dating Game winners travelling to places like Helsinki or romantic West Berlin as a cover for assassination.

Imagine Cilla Black as a secret agent quietly bumping off enemies of the Crown whilst Emma from Essex realises Steve from Solihull was the wrong choice and she should have picked number 3. Barking mad, I think you’ll agree…

What makes this film so funny and entertaining is the decision to largely treat Barris’ story as if it were fact, rather than the delusions of a man increasingly depressed by allegations that he was chiefly responsible for the dumbing down of television. It also helps that Sam Rockwell (who I have only seen previously as one of the convicts on death row in The Green Mile) does such a great job of portraying Barris as a sleazy but likeable hustler. The parts of the film involving the game shows provide loads of fun moments (including ‘unfit for broadcast’ sexually explicit pilot versions of the Dating Game and cameos by Brad Pitt and Matt Damon as two unsuccessful contestants), whilst Drew Barrymore manages to be less annoying than usual. George Clooney’s CIA recruiter Jim Byrd is suave and very funny convincing Barris to rationalise his hitman persona: “Think of it as a hobby. You’re an assassination enthusiast.” Clooney’s character is also in the film’s most powerful image, when after telling Barris about a mole killing off agents, we see Byrd sitting on a swimming pool diving board, a red stain spreading in the water below him as he dies from a gunshot wound.

In his first film as director, George Clooney has managed to create a very entertaining fable that, at just under two hours, seems to fly by. None of it is believable, of course, but rather like modern “reality” television, that’s not the point – the truth has no bearing on what we watch, even when it claims to be ‘real’, because everyone on film or TV is trying to be something they are not. Amazingly, Barris is still alive, still thinking up game shows. His latest, he says, is for three old guys to be each given a loaded gun and then to look back on the inadequacies of their lives, with the winner the last to blow his brains out.

Somehow, I have a feeling that something similar has already been considered by a twenty-year-old producer fresh out of a media studies course. It’s only a matter of time…

FAR FROM HEAVEN
Sunday 9th March 2003
Genesis Cinema Mile End, London E1 VISIT

Todd Haynes' new film ‘Far From Heaven’ is, I have read, a homage to Fifties melodramas made by Douglas Sirk. Having no idea who exactly Sirk is and having never seen one of his films, I thought I might have a problem understanding why the critics have been so generous with their praise for this film. And so initially it proved, until after a slow start this luscious and wonderfully acted film began to relieve its dark heart, full of secrets, hypocrisy, racism and homophobia.

‘Far from Heaven’ tells the story of Cathy Whitaker, living in suburban Hartford, Connecticut, at the tail end of the 1950s. Cathy has what on the surface seems a perfect life, with a big house, children and a successful salesman husband, Frank. She is also seen as something of a liberal, a patron of the arts and (according to the local magazine article) ‘kind to negroes.’ But this is an America before the victories of the civil rights movement, one where conformity on family and especially race were rigidly maintained – a time that for many, especially black Americans, was very ‘far from heaven’ indeed.

So when Cathy catches Frank with another man, their perfect life begins to unravel, with Frank seeing his homosexuality as a failure to be an all-American male. Increasingly distressed by Frank’s drinking and moodiness, Cathy turns for support to her educated black gardener Raymond (played by Dennis Haysbert, the presidential candidate in 24). But spending time together cannot fail to go unnoticed by the town’s gossips, those that police the boundaries of acceptable behaviour, leaving both Cathy and Raymond increasingly ostracised.

What is so good about this film is that what are often jarring moments of racism and almost comical attitudes to homosexuality are set against the most stunning settings of a town where it always seems to be autumn, the streets carpeted with the most exquisite red and gold leaves. The clothes and the sets have also been clearly designed to replicate the Technicolor films of the period. Julianne Moore, who plays Cathy, is completely brilliant portraying the well-meaning liberal who fails to see the line that could not then be crossed, a woman whose increasing unhappiness never prevents her from remaining the supportive, respectable middle-class wife. Dennis Quaid as Frank is excellent too, showing clearly the confusion and sense of shame that being gay could bring at a time when gay men were almost always in the closet (and were camp caricatures, with cravats and berets, in the eyes of most of society).

If I have one criticism, it is that this is cinema as spectacle, where you enjoy the acting and the way the film has been presented without expecting any real surprises in the story. You know there could be no happy ending – a sudden abandonment by Cathy of her life for a new and happy future would have been far too contrived. But see ‘Far From Heaven’ anyway, make sure you see it on the big screen rather than wait for its DVD release, and marvel at the spectacle that Todd Haynes has created. You’ll never be able to look at films that have tended to sanitise the era, like Grease for example, in the same light.

SOLARIS
Saturday 1st March 2003
UCI Greenwich Filmworks VISIT

Now I can see why this film has made a lot of enemies. Die-hard science fiction fans will hate it because its not really sci-fi, more a psychological drama in space. Fans of the Stanislaw Lem novel will probably say it’s nothing like the book, because films never are (I bought the book last week but decided not to read it until after seeing the film). Fans, meanwhile, of cult Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky's 1972 version will hate it just because its not ‘their’ film, not three hours long and stars a major Hollywood star.

Fans, on the other hand, of George Clooney’s arse will come away satisfied by its brief cinematic debut.

Approaching ‘Solaris’ without any of the baggage of a fan, I have to say that I enjoyed George Clooney’s performance in an undoubtedly intelligent film. Director Steven Sonderbergh also directed Clooney in the magnificent Ocean’s 11 but this is a very different story. Clooney plays Chris Kelvin, a psychologist mourning his wife’s recent suicide, who is asked by his best friend, a scientist on a space station orbiting the planet Solaris, to investigate mysterious events that have effected the crew. On arrival, Kelvin finds that his friend is dead and that only two of the team members remain alive. Both are initially unable to explain what has happened, until Kelvin’s experiences the phenomenon for himself, when his dead wife Rheya – or something that appears to be her – suddenly appears, constructed from Kelvin’s memories by the influence of the strange energy of the planet below. Although Kelvin understands that the impossibility of her existence and Rheya herself comes to accept that she is not human, Kelvin’s confusion and grief make it impossible for him to let her go.

Clooney is impressive as Kelvin, powerfully conveying the character’s emotional crisis in the sparsely scripted scenes on the space station and displaying his usual charisma in the flashbacks to Chris’ life with Rheya. Natascha McElhone, who plays Rheya, is simply wonderful, managing to simultaneously appear both human and alien and remain a complicated and sympathetic character. Another strong point is the film’s visual impact – cold and grey in space, warm, red and brown in Chris’ memories of Earth – which is fantastic to look at. There is even a brief reference to 2001, with the cockpit lights of the ship that carries Kelvin to the space station reflecting in the visor of his helmet. The other supporting characters are, however, something of a waste of space, but then this is a film that focuses on the two leads who are at times completely captivating. And it does raise interesting questions about free will, creation and critically: can a person love someone that looks, behaves and holds the memory of a dead loved one, but really isn't that person?

The negatives? Well, unlike 2001, I’m not sure this is a film I would necessarily want to see more than once. I’m struggling for a word here but it’s all a bit… solemn, not really provocative enough. Without giving away too much, the twist at the end doesn’t really work, is just too tidy and fails to leave enough to reflect upon. And to justify its ending, the script needed more about the mysterious power of the planet Solaris itself.

Still, worth a look for the brilliant central performances. But see it at the cinema - I suspect this film needs the expanse of the big screen and will lose much of its impact on DVD. With that in mind, I can thoroughly recommend UCI Greenwich Filmworks (about ten minutes walk from North Greenwich tube and the Millenium Dome) for what seemed like the biggest screen I have ever seen a film on. Now a possible venue for watching LOTR: The Return of the King when it comes out later this year.