How Succession Changed Television

After having a few weeks to digest that spellbinding finale, I think, for me, the leading theme of Succession was the control and use of power. It all boils down to that, doesn’t it? Or maybe it’s power and ego. Power and ego and hunger. Desire. Jealousy. Betrayal. Selfishness. Bickering over a slice of pie. The pie being a Corporation worth billions.

Jesse Armstrong aimed to create a TV series about a family, its business and the politics of succession. However, he achieved something far greater.

Everybody is under-qualified

The most common element of an effective power struggle is an army of characters, all of whom want the same thing. In this case, it is the chase, the love and the obsession for the big seat. CEO of Waystar Royco. A writing text book (or, a real life scenario) would say, “You build a World of multiple characters in which, each one has their own strengths and weaknesses. Ultimately, the strongest one has the best shot.” But no. To hell with that. Jesse Armstrong takes a left-sided detour from this rule. He chooses his own way of creating a lust for power, fuelled by a bunch of people, all of whom are deeply flawed and quite frankly, not up to the mark. They are hilariously incompatible, exceptionally power hungry and underperform exactly when they are needed to do something worthwhile. In short, they are people who don’t know how to be CEO, don’t know what is the right move for the Company, don’t know a good deal from a bad one and in fact, don’t know anything more than their most immediate desire. And yet, they all fight for the same thing, running around like headless chickens.

And that’s exactly what creates phenomenal drama. That’s what changes Television.

The fight to prove who is the ‘least under-qualified’

It’s almost an understatement to say that the characters in Succession truly believe that they have both, the brain and muscle to take over the Company. In fact, they most certainly don’t. It is that very insecurity that makes them act in a self-serving manner, attack anybody and everybody who comes in their way and not have an ounce of a long term vision. But they are running. Running, because, if they don’t, they’d fall far far behind. These aren’t characters who have charisma. Sure, they have charismatic moments. But nothing more than that. Kendall Roy can go from absolutely nailing a product launch to breaking down and spitting gibberish when it matters most. Shiv Roy can mastermind a roadmap no body else could see coming, and then falter and make her ambitions look naive and childish. Roman Roy can react to a blown up rocket like he lost a few thousand dollars on the stock market and then drop the speech of his lifetime while the CEO of a major Company takes a leak next to him. None of these men or women have the consistency one needs to not only run Waystar, but also succeed and grow in their respective positions.

None of them. None except one man. And he walked away with the biggest prize.

It’s not realistic. It’s a notch above reality.

It’s pretty easy for businessmen and women to sit in conference rooms and talk ‘business stuff’ that would sound like a Neil Pert drum solo in the middle of a live performance. But that wouldn’t be engaging. It would be like putting a camera on inside a meeting room and capturing the minutes. Sure, there’s a documentary element to that which would work in some cases. But Armstrong (like Sorkin did with The Newsroom) creates a World that isn’t realistic, but is a notch above reality. This, I think, is what is the most pathbreaking element of Succession. The fact that people who are in powerful positions, who we have “grown up” seeing in a manner that shows the distance between us and them due to the way in which they talk and how technical they can be, actually talk like anybody else. There’s a wave of abuses and slurs, of comical truth bombs, constant, incessant digs at people and an almost perennially demeaning language that creates a new level of modern day poetry. Armstrong deserves a huge amount of credit for how he has built characters and moved them over their arcs in a sluggish, almost oh-it-mirrors-reality manner. If you really observe the “plot” of Succession, you’d notice that it hardly moves a few inches from the first season. Yes. Deals come on board. Deals go away. Grand juries happen. Elections happen. Tom and Gregg break eggs. But that’s “story” not “plot”.

(Here’s a short video of Martin Scorsese explaining the difference between “story” and “plot”)

That is the greatness of this TV Show. It really isn’t about the “what happens”, yes sure, it is about that considering how shocking that might be to most viewers. But primarily, it’s about the “how” / the “journey” towards the final move on the chess board.

In other words, you didn’t watch four seasons of Succession only to know who ends up being CEO. You watched it for a long list of reasons including but not limited to “how” your favourite characters would end up navigating their way through complex emotional situations to eventually, get what they want. Which in this case, is the same thing for all of them.

It takes a seat amongst the Greatest TV has ever seen

For people to consider Succession an all time great TV show, years before its final season is an achievement in itself. But to hold on to this pressure and to end up overachieving (unlike a certain other series) is an even bigger achievement. Movies and TV shows that end up being talked about only because of how they ended, rarely become a part of cultural dialogue or change. They tend to be forgotten.

Great work is remembered for how it made you feel. How it challenged you. How it broke your heart. How it enraged you. And somewhere in midst of all that, how it made you smile.

As far as I can say, Succession did all of those things. And more.

Remembering a masterpiece: Apocalypse Now

Some years ago, while presenting Francis Ford Coppola’s Rumble Fish (1983) at the Austin Film Society, Filmmaker Richard Linklater made an interesting point. If you look at the 1970s, you will realise that NO BODY has had a decade like Francis Ford Coppola.
Let’s go through his masterpieces as they were released:

The Godfather (1972)

The Conversation (1974) 

The Godfather Part II (1974)

Apocalypse Now (1979) 

 

Each of these movies will feature in most of the ‘Greatest movies of all time’ lists. Each of them are exceptional masterpieces that no other filmmaker could make. Personally, The Godfather and Apocalypse Now feature on my own Top 5 favourite films of all time. Recently, I happened to re-watch Apocalypse Now on the theatrical screen and thought it would be a great time to write about the film. I have previously watched both versions of the film. This recent screening however, was of the original version, not the near 3.5 hour long redux version (which I admire just as much).

Chaos before the mayhem 

The visually stunning and brilliantly edited opening sequence immediately demands your attention and sucks you into Coppola’s mayhem filled World. ‘The End’ by ‘The Doors’ kicks in. We see absolute havoc in front of our eyes. Havoc presented in the most aesthetically superior and artistically incomparable way.

Martin Sheen’s voice breaks in. His monologue is so crisp and well worded it goes up and down your spine. You barely spend a few minutes with Sheen in his claustrophobic room and you are already drawn into his mind. You don’t know him but you know what’s troubling him. His brief about himself and his situation is put forth in a manner that isn’t purposefully concise but rather purposefully decisive enough to not give any attention to “small talk”. He is speaking TO you and he wants some gaps to be left for your mind to fill in. Coppola and Sheen almost create an impression of Willard being an animal in the desperate need of going back to it’s environment. An environment where a sudden death is almost a promise. It is that promises that lingers on your horizon before each one of your moves. It is that promises that can “terminate your command” at any given point. It is that promise that Willard misses. He wants to go back. He needs to go back.

The scene with Harrison Ford’s character Colonel Lucas, the General and Jerry is just as powerful and assertive as ambiguous and notoriously misleading. The gaps, they continue to remain. Willard is being sent on a death mission. A mission has to carry with “extreme prejudice” but he is provided with inflated and almost inconsistent reasoning. So much so that the General waits for Willard to “agree” to his statements calling Kurtz “insane”. Willard wants the mission for his own reasons but it seems to us that this ambiguity excites him. It drives him.

Bill Kilgore and the game of war 

The entire Duvall sequence to me seems like an expression of the casual and game-like nature to the work of some of those in command. Whether or not this is a comment on America, depends on your interpretation of it. Kilgore, as much as I hate to use this statement, enjoys every bit of his killing spree. He talks about surfing with great enthusiasm but that reference subtly hints at how he tries to use his passion for sport, in warfare. Each time I watched Apocalypse Now, the Duvall sequence always stood out for me. Sometimes, it almost feels like a different movie. Many of the segments in the film feel like separate films. Kilgore is fucking insane and Coppola wanted to present this insanity and use that to represent the American thought behind the battle, you could say.

Duvall kicks on the music player just before going even more insane inside the helicopter. His crew are psyched by this madness. You wonder how Tarantino takes “the emotion and attitude” from movies he loves, you will find it easily if you know where to look. Wondering what I am talking about? Let’s consider Michael Madsen’s ‘Mr. Blonde’ in Reservoir Dogs. He plays ‘stuck in the middle with you‘ and cuts off a man’s ear. Kilgore plays operatic music and goes on killing people like a madman. Genre cinema at it’s very greatest and historic best. It really brings up the question…”If you want to create a strong genre piece and put out a message just as strong, how do you go about it?” Well, ask Francis Coppola. That’s what he was doing here. Using every frame.

Kilgore sequence lasts quite a while. During this time, Willard doesn’t speak too much. Even by his own standards. The entire sequence can be questioned in terms of it’s involvement in Willard’s actual mission. Which is exactly the point. Coppola made a movie of abstractions. A war film with abstractions. Who would take such a risk? Take a look at most of the war movies and you will notice that the biggest “action moments” that usually involve large scale destruction are integral to the film’s “plot”. This isn’t the case with Apocalypse Now. To begin with, the film doesn’t even have a plot. It’s a story. It flows from point to point. It’s a journey. It’s a real movie. As real as a film can get. As genuine as a journey movie can be. “He set out from here…at this place he met HIM and then THIS is what happened. Coppola doesn’t chop it up to make it concise. He doesn’t care about that. Every part of what Willard “sees” during his mission, shapes him further. Why would you “just keep things that are in direct correlation something called a plot?”
That would be formulaic and completely antithetical to Coppola’s efforts with the movie.

You know he is near 

Sometimes I ask myself about the absurdities in the movie. I don’t know why but I relate to those “holes in reasoning”. I feel like these holes exist in political philosophies, the more you try to read into any of them. No political thought can exist without contradictions. The entire thought behind Apocalypse Now is a contradiction. Willard is on his way to kill somebody who has “gone insane” and whose methods are “unsound”. Someone who is also an American. What would the General say about Kilgore, then? The man killed for fun. While gunning down a woman with a grenade he mouthed, “savages” when all the while he was murdering large numbers of people, livestock, destroying everything around him as though it were a game. Hypocrisy right there. So, what is insanity according to these men in uniforms? Who does it apply to? What methods are “unsound”? If killing two double agents is “unsound” and applying Kilgore’s methods of mass murder is the viable thing to do, it begs the question, what are we really talking about?

Questions. Questions. More questions.

That’s what the movie does. It does not make ONE STATEMENT that was a common factor in many war movies. Side A vs Side B. This is what A is fighting for and this is what B is fighting for. Let the battle begin.
Is war really that simple? Or is this type of filmmaking a way of “using war” to create large scale, breathtaking visuals? Francis Coppola asks the real questions with this movie. He “sends things up”. It’s like a journey through various abstractions and absurdities. Willard gets drawn into Kurtz’s World with every word he reads about him. To us, it is made to feel as though Kurtz was always around. Since the film began. We can feel him around us.
Personally, I find Martin Sheen’s monologue in Apocalypse Now on par with Robert De Niro’s in Taxi Driver. Both these historic monologues represent two different bands on a spectrum of abstract emotions. While watching Coppola’s movie again recently, the monologue hit me much harder than before. Each word is so crisp. At some points you feel as though Sheen is whispering to you. It feels like a war movie that is so goddamn personal that it may actually be more about belief systems than anything else.

Stepping into hell

As Willard and what remains of his crew, enter Kurtz’s “kingdom”, the visuals are gorgeously horrific. The background score tenses up. You tighten yourself in the seat. You are glued. His “army” moves apart, allowing Willard’s boat to tear through them. It is like a visual from hell. You have heard about this World. The World belonging to Colonel Kurtz. You may have imagined it in your own way and this is the moment that defies all of that. Maybe that’s because the journey is such that you are sailing “in the same boat” as Willard and his crew. You don’t know WHAT you will come across. Will Willard even reach there? Will he reach there alive? What will he see when he gets there? What will stop Kurtz’s army from simply killing him?

One of my favourite visuals from the film is that of a very much drugged Lance dancing in a freakish way as the boat gradually tears through the mist and enters the World of Kurtz.

Sometimes I cannot believe what a big risk a project like this is. For a filmmaker to take on so much responsibility, to make a film that’s a bloody monster, to shoot for over a year or more, take on everybody even though you have made incredible landmark movies not too long ago and to finally end it the way Coppola decided to, it’s almost too much to be true. The build up to the encounter with Kurtz feels like a journey through someone’s life. You breathe it in as you go along in that boat. But then, the entire finale is filled with absurd political thoughts and ideas “sent up” which makes you think, maybe there was no other way of going about this. A typical situation would have a battle scene of some sort with very clearly defined “good guys” and “bad guys” so the audience knows exactly what to feel. But Apocalypse Now doesn’t care about any of that. You go through the entire journey to come into “the moment”, for what? An exchange of ideas and thoughts. A real conversation between two “soldiers”. What are their beliefs and what affects them? The unanswered questions are important to the “story” because, as I’ve said before, there is no “plot”.

The movie, in some sense, is about the philosophy behind a war. There is something about this entire sequence that makes it feel like it’s a notch above reality. It is like a poetic look at the minds of those involved in battle. Marlon Brando’s presence is larger than life. He speaks, he asks, he reads, we listen attentively. There is something so sacred about the ending of Apocalypse Now that I can never “just watch the ending”. I feel like it is important to live the whole journey, again, before coming up to this point. Each time, I walk away with something different but each time, I am elevated to a different zone that only this movie can take me to.

Also, throughout the film there is a sense of chaos. Helicopters flying around, people being shot, bombs exploding, trees blazing up, civilians running all around. There is mayhem. But Coppola suddenly brings in a sense of rhythm and calm as soon as we enter Kurtz’s World. How could it be possible that the very person Willard is supposed to kill on account of his “insanity”, holds a kingdom of people in a peculiar state of calm? What is being said through this?

Francis Ford Coppola and the curse of a legendary decade 

To make a movie on this scale, in the 1970s and still keep so many aspects ambiguous, remains one of the most brave decisions in the history of cinema. In a way, Francis Coppola’s 70s became so large, his movies after that were never treated with the respect they deserved. The decade I wrote about at the beginning of this piece, was so humungous in terms of it’s artistic and cinematic value that Coppola had to live his life trying to play catch. I personally like most of what I have watched from Coppola’s films after the 70s. Rumble Fish is such a beautiful film. The Rainmaker as well. Coppola made many great movies after the 70s but he will be remembered only for the ones he made IN the 70s and Apocalypse Now ended that legendary decade for him.

People expected the movie to be a colossal failure. The media wrote about it being a disaster even before the movie was even out. News from the shooting in Vietnam crept into the American newspapers and Coppola was painted as this dark figure who would risk finance and personnel for his own greed. He proved them all wrong.  Apocalypse Now was a huge theatrical hit. It is said that Francis Coppola expected Apocalypse Now to be a flop. He hence decided to make One From the Heart. Ironically, Apocalypse Now was remarkably successful and One from the Heart turned out to be a flop and if what I hear is correct, it even bankrupted him. It is indeed a very sad tale. Few filmmakers can be considered to be on par with Francis Ford Coppola. Few filmmakers out there can claim that his movies haven’t influenced them in any way.

Filmmakers rarely embrace the mysteries that surround their subjects of movie making. Francis Coppola tackled it head on with Apocalypse Now. You wouldn’t blame him for holding back on trying to make a film on this scale, philosophical. But he did it nonetheless. He did it because he wanted to raise questions with the film. He wanted to send something up. He wanted political ideas to be exchanged and he wanted his characters to make cumulative choices. Not choose between black or white.

Apocalypse Now remains one of the Greatest movies ever made.

 

 

 

Remembering a masterpiece: Taxi Driver

It was a warm summer afternoon in New York. I was on a boat cruise around the City and there was a middle aged man, talking to a group of people about important landmarks, historical facts, significant events and the like. He then happened to say, “Taxi Driver is my favourite movie.” Everything he said after that sounded different to me. Not because I love the movie but because it gave his words a context I could resonate with. Sure, you can see a certain kind of New York in a Woody Allen movie and a certain kind of New York in a Scorsese or De Palma movie. It’s the same setting but the Worlds seem so distant from one another. Taxi Driver is sort of an “insider’s perspective on a movie about an outsider.” New York is a living organism and Taxi Driver is one of the most iconic and brutally honest on screen depictions of it. According to the history, Brian De Palma gave Martin Scorsese the Paul Schrader script. This aspect to me is very interesting. Had De Palma made it, it would be a very very different movie. The incredible marriage of Scorsese’s direction, Schrader’s screenplay, Robert De Niro’s performance, Michael Chapman’s visuals and Bernard Herrmann’s music, created an experience that is discussed, dissected, debated, written and spoken about to this day. And will always be, of course.

Comfort in the feeling of discomfort

Not until recently did it strike me that Scorsese has passionately created uncomfortable situations in movies. May be his King of Comedy is more discomforting than this film but there is a degree of discomfort associated with Taxi Driver that only says one thing. It fucking works. Oh, I don’t mean to speak about the violence or the brutality of it. That isn’t even slightly discomforting. What makes you uncomfortable are the situations Travis Bickle finds himself in with “the common people.” The whole scene with Betsy outside the porno theatre. What troubles you more? Not the fact that Travis took her there but the fact that he cannot quite understand where he went wrong. Scorsese went on record and said that the 1970s was a time in New York where visiting porno theatres was a regular thing. Though that’s not something people bear in mind while watching the movie and he knows that. That’s why it works. The documentary aspect that would explain such a phenomenon is avoided. Hence, the audience is left to be appalled by his behaviour and then shocked by Travis’ inability to get his head around the repercussions of his actions. What’s even more striking about this is Betsy calling Travis “a walking contradiction.” The phrase explains most of Travis’ doings throughout the movie. Most.

Key to great collaboration

Speaking of great improvisations in movies, Taxi Driver is right up there with the best. We have heard and read about Brando’s inputs on Vito Corleone in The Godfather or of Pacino in Scarface, and so many more unforgettable ones. Three instances in particular here exist because of Robert De Niro.

The “You talkin’ to me” scene. Scorsese says they were running out of shooting time and De Niro went on improvising. He also added the edge, “I’m the only one here. You talkin’ to me?” That sealed it, he said.

The second instance is the scene with Martin Scorsese in the back seat. A tense and troubling scene in which Scorsese’s character wants to murder his wife and talks to Travis about it. Robert De Niro helped Scorsese extend his lines in a manner that would make more sense. Such as, forcing him to keep the meter (flag) running until he was done talking. I think De Niro says only one or two words in this entire scene. Everything else is done by his expressions. It’s an incredible acting class, really. Sympathy, partly empathy, remorse, anger, dissatisfaction with himself and the burning urge to be noticed, all are expressed by Bob De Niro here. Unforgettable.

The third instance is the beautiful yet uncomfortable follow up to to the one with Scorsese in the back seat. It’s Travis Bickle speaking to his cabbie friend. “I have some bad ideas in my head.” The association with the previous scene in which Scorsese speaks about killing his wife has a bearing on this and De Niro improvised that line. The beauty of Schrader’s script is in creating these instances and situations that only partially link to things that have happened during the runtime of the movie. Many of Travis’ thoughts and actions are unjustifiable. But he justifies them, to himself. It’s not a depiction of his state of mind but a journey into it. Can you understand Travis completely? No. Neither can he. I don’t know how or what Paul Schrader experienced or saw or watched or heard that not only made his work this accurate but also honest and unsettling at the same time.

A man desperate to prove that he is alive

At the bottom of it all, Travis wants to “do something”.

He is waiting for “the real rain that will wash all the scum off the streets.” If you think this is comical (apparently someone found this movie to be a comedy and if anything about this film is funny, it’s that) you’re getting it wrong. It has to be relatable to everybody. What Travis is trying to say is that he doesn’t really follow political issues but he knows there’s something wrong. Something no one actually can “solve” or “clean”. It’s a larger problem that would need “a real rain” to clean it up. The entire film is from Travis’ point of view. The streets and the people on those streets paint a gruesome picture of things. Senator Charles Palentine can comment intelligently and say that he has “learnt more from travelling in taxi cabs than in all the limos” but surely, he doesn’t feel it the way Travis does. After the occasional yet brief cab journey, he will get back into his limo with tinted glasses and he won’t see the World Travis sees. Let alone live in it. Schrader certainly had a very detailed view of New York and Michael Chapman and Martin Scorsese magically put that up on screen. The noir-ish visuals aren’t “treatment ideas” but instead are projections of Travis’ mind. He doesn’t see the glitz and glamour of New York City. He sees the dirt, he sees hookers being forced by gangster pimps, he sees street gangs throw stuff on his cab, he sees gangsters attack shop owners. He doesn’t know what he can do to stop any of these things but he spends most of his time fighting the ambiguous force that embodies a culmination of these instances from the street. Travis was in the Marines. His work in Vietnam operated at a certain level of intensity. He could vent out his frustrations, physically, in Vietnam. He struggles to do that in New York. There are a lot of things that upset him on a daily basis but how can he “act” like he did in Vietnam? He gets a load of guns, a knife and exercises in his apartment. He is preparing for the act. But what is the act? Who is it against? Travis goes from “supporting Palentine” to wanting to shoot him. He changes his look, he talks to a secret serviceman (who is surprisingly cooperative). In his mind and his letters to his family, he is a part of a secret mission for “the Government”. Why does he tell himself that? By “Government” does he mean the current administration who Charles Palentine is fighting against? Or does he mean the Government Charles Palentine hopes to lead? The answers to these questions aren’t nearly as important as the questions themselves. To understand Travis’ psyche, it’s important to also understand that he doesn’t understand himself.

Travis and Betsy

Personally, I believe that the relationship between Travis and Betsy is one of the most complicated ones in Film History. When I first watched the movie (many years ago), the dynamic between Travis and Betsy acted like a foundation for my understanding of the story…and of Travis. This means, and I think this is true for most people especially on first viewing, everything Travis does is for attention and… Betsy. This oversimplified bottling of the entire film happens only for about 10 minutes after you have first watched it. May be the fact that I was very young at the time, this was the way I looked at it. But over time, I realised that this relationship may feel like it’s at the centre of the film but it is only one of the many fragments. Or consequences.

On one level of the story, we could understand that Travis’ acts after the porno theatre episode are in reaction to Betsy moving away from him. But this would have two parts. The initial part is confrontation. If he sympathises with Martin Scorsese’s character (who wants to kill his wife) does he have a similar plan for Betsy? If he did, then the only reason for change in his life could be the arrival of Iris. If not, then Travis’ reasons are far more complex. He could feel that a certain force has taken Betsy away from him and it is that force that he wants to fight. This could be a reason why he turns against Charles Palentine. (It still doesn’t explain why he considers Betsy to be a part of “the union” unless that was only out of anger) But on this level of understanding of the story, we could also conclude that the entire bloodbath towards the end was to make a point to Betsy. (This has been severely debated since Travis attempts to kill himself twice during the bloodbath) Maybe Travis thought that the only way to attract her attention and from “everyone in the union” would be by killing himself. From Betsy’s point of view, Travis is not like anyone she has met before. After the porno theatre incident, she walks away from Travis and doesn’t give him a chance to explain himself. Travis, still digesting his grave mistake, keeps attempting to get in touch with her. After Travis murders gangsters and the pimp called Sport (played so brilliantly by Harvey Keitel), Betsy has a change of heart. Or so it seems. The romantic ending of the movie is one of the big reasons it works on so many different levels. It is an open ending but the pinch of “I read about you in the papers” which follows the “hero articles”, gives the movie a balance of genius.

Travis and Iris

Travis is such a contradictory and complex character that it’s hard to pin down his actual belief system before he meets Betsy (Even after). A part of it becomes clearer once he meets Iris. Travis drove the taxi on the night Iris tried to run away from Sport (the pimp). He gave Travis a “crumpled 20 dollar bill” (which is interestingly the same bill he hands over to the gangster after using his room) Travis becomes protective and urges Iris to not work for Sport and to go back to her home town. What’s driving him? Maybe the night when he saw her being forced away or maybe, there’s a shift inside of him. It could still be that he finds a way of combating “the scum” by taking it up against Sport and his partners. The act of killing a bunch of gangsters just days after attempting to kill Charles Palentine, justifies Betsy labelling Travis as a “walking contradiction”.

Summing it up

While watching a film like Taxi Driver it’s impossible to predict where it goes towards the end. I never saw the “hero” episode coming. I never saw him meeting Betsy again. The genius of Scorsese and Schrader lies in telling you that you’re watching one type of movie and then it suddenly slides over and becomes something else. If you think about it, there would never be anything remotely optimistic about the ending of a movie that starts off on a character’s pessimism and then dives right into a pool of pessimistic thoughts. Not that the ending is optimistic or pessimistic but it certainly is more hopeful than you’d expect it to be. Martin Scorsese romanticises the lives of gangsters in a film like Goodfellas. In this movie, he partly romanticises the idea of this one man from the street who kills a bunch of gangsters and becomes a hero. The elaborate explanation with newspaper clippings and narration from Iris’ parents in the background is a testament to this idea of romanticising characters who essentially are “anti heroes”.

Why ‘A Star is born’ is an example of emotional boldness

SPOILERS

Remakes are an obsession now. They have been for quite a few years. I actually feel that someday, there will be two films for every film. May be three. Some films that should never have been made in the first place, are remade. This happens in the West, in Europe and largely in India. I haven’t watched either of the two movies [A star is born (1937) and (1976)] but I knew the storyline, somewhat. May be what motivated me most about this one was Bradley Cooper’s decision to direct, sing and Lady Gaga’s decision to act. What I find repulsive about a lot of remakes nowadays (out of the few I end up watching) is that they clearly seem like marketing decisions. Film Studios make these decisions using their formulaic methods. Add this cast, with this storyline of a former hit movie, add this music composer and we are good to go. It rarely comes from the filmmaker or the actor or from any creative spark whatsoever. It usually is suggested at some meeting by a Marketing person who thinks he/she can put two and two together and create “a super hit film”. That’s all it’s about. A Star is born by Bradley Cooper isn’t a film like that. It’s a film, a story, chosen by a great actor for the big screen. He chose it because he thinks he can offer something fresh. Something only he can offer. Probably the entire reason one should ever make a film at all. Or any piece of art. Or literature. Offer something only you can.

It doesn’t mean you are dissing the old works or that you aren’t in agreement with them. You just think that an existing Classic film can be made with YOUR TAKE. I I repeat once again, I don’t know how far Cooper went from the original. I don’t even care. All I know is that this is a film that is highly relevant in 2018. Commercial music seems to be getting worse by the day, lyricists seem to be on an unending holiday and songs with one phrase repeated 300 times top all the charts. Cooper is saying something about that. Subtly in some areas and blatantly in others. May be I am in agreement with it because I still prefer rock, hard rock, blues, jazz or really any music that comes out of an actual instrument and not a USB drive. (Oops) About 98% of the commercial music that falls on my ears gets disposed out within seconds. Coopers character Jack plays music that “comes from his soul.” The few times that he has to take up commercial gigs, he says “it’s soul crushing”. It’s important to realise that Cooper and his co writer , the great Eric Roth, aren’t antagonising Ally played by Gaga. They also aren’t hiding Jack’s flaws. In fact, his flaws are open wounds for everyone to see. It’s a great way for a writer to say “My characters are fucking real.” Not to go back to my initial remake rant but there’s a lot of “polishing” done by most of the filmmakers going for a remake. They try to brush out the grey areas and make everything black and white. Good and bad. This is where my thought about A Star is born being emotionally bold comes in. What do I mean by emotional boldness? A lot of writers nowadays SKIP difficult scenes and tough moments. They want you to watch only the major” twists and turns”. They ignore the harrowing moments where characters argue lengthily, cry, deal with their emotional issues by talking and sometimes by sharing silences with others. It may be a completely different genre space but I felt this about GDT’s Shape of water. So many things weren’t built up. “Oh, it’s supposed to be understood”. I’m not talking about dumbing down moments and oversimplification. I’m talking about writers and directors facing their tough scenes. Scenes which push the actors and the audience and force them to sit through moments that will not be comfortable. Are we in the comforting business or is this art? Am I going to be truthful to my characters and hence give my audience the most honest experience possible or should I just skip this emotional confrontation and head to some love making or a song / action sequence?

Bradley Cooper spends much of his second and third act doing just the opposite. Every tough scene is faced head on. There are long scenes that involve emotional confrontations and silences. Characters stand by their beliefs and also contradict themselves. It’s like it’s supposed to be. Right? How can your lead characters say things and stick by them for 120 minutes? In reality, isn’t that a rarity? Ally and Jack are two people who love music but may be, in different ways. Jack is the kind of artist who would never “sell his soul to the devil”. He hasn’t gotten into the music industry, gotten a band together only to move on to some crazy ass commercial music that goes against everything he loves and believes in.

Ally, on the other hand, seems like a singer who’s willing to take any route that’s bound to take her higher and into an area that promises more fame and limelight. For this, dumbing down her lyrics to a singular phrase that repeats itself like a bunch of crickets in a damp bush, isn’t a problem to her. Initially, she does express concerns over the increasing focus on her dance moves and on stage performances. But what happens later? She gets sucked in. It’s like a drug that takes her away. With Cooper’s Jack, it’s different. He has his own issues. He is an alcoholic with an illness wearing him down. Then there is the strong emotional burden carried by Jack. His troubled relationship with his brother. His dead father. His hearing illness. Ally’s rise to fame creates problems between her and Jack. At one point she calls him “A jealous fuck“, with part sarcasm. His concerns aren’t about her getting all the fame. His concerns are about her degrading work. Her terribly mundane lyrics, her focus on dancing and performance and decreasing attention to “the soul”. Where is the person who wrote and sang ‘Shallow’? (‘Shallow’ is a beautiful song written by Ally) The song that got her to this pop icon position in the first place. Is Jack to accept that the one song that comes from her soul is only a stepping stone to mundane music and dazzling fame? All these things create an emotional turmoil. Half of the second act and the entire third act deals with this with shear boldness and courage. There might be some people saying “the film could do without 15-20 minutes in the second half”. These are the same people who’ve been spoilt by the “twists and turns” cinema that I wrote about earlier. The kind of cinema that tells you emotions aren’t important. Certainly not difficult ones. Characters dealing with emotional turmoil should be cut short only keeping the “important parts”. Which are the “important parts” and who decides? Bradley Cooper has been a part of indie films as well commercial films. He knows what the mainstream audience is looking for and he certainly knows that slow scenes of emotional confrontations are looked down upon today. But he doesn’t give a fuck. He makes the film the way he wants. His characters are honest and believable. Getting Eric Roth on board to co-write this film is a master stroke. Just shows what kind of a director Cooper is. He clearly wanted this film to have a “Classic touch” that doesn’t go away from the “soul” of the original.

Revisiting two Darren Aronofsky Classics

It had been at least 4 years since I last watched Darren Aronofsky’s classics ‘Black Swan’ and ‘Pi’ so I thought it would be a good idea to set a weekend aside to revisit both of them and gauge how different, if at all, the overall experience would feel like.

Aronofsky designs “experiences” for the audience and recently at the Hollywood Reporter Roundtable he candidly mentioned how he loves creating “genre moments for audiences”. He wouldn’t even have to say that because this is evident in all his works. Also, the beauty of his films is that they never quite sit in one particular genre (he speaks about this too). It’s extremely hard to find the exact point (I’m quite sure that would be a boring and mundane exercise if ever attempted) his films glide over from one genre to another.

As I come to think of it, I think ‘Requiem for a dream’ was the first ever Darren Aronofsky film I watched. It might be his best film, though I don’t quite have a choice for this title. I was awestruck by his vision and to this day I think it’s one of the greatest cinematic achievements of all time. So, let me get on with it.

Pi

I’ve revisited this film at least 5 or 6 times so far, to this day. Strangely enough, I am still surprised by it. With Darren’s films, you just don’t know what’s going to come your way. The marriage of music, visuals and story bring out this extremely convoluted and ambiguous experience that you don’t quite know what to make of. What does the character actually want? What is getting in his way? ‘Pi’ is actually so intelligent that it keeps you busy enough to not bother about the plot. Aronofsky moves you emotionally and sways you from point to point while reminding you that cinema is largely about the experience and not a well defined story. In the film, there’s often a “problem” mentioned and then it is discussed and dissected until you’ve had enough of it (sometimes you don’t) and then you might wonder, “what’s the larger purpose here?” Before you get enough time to evaluate that, something else hits you and this cycle keeps on repeating. New information, new ideas, new thoughts and so on. You’re so caught up with it and before you know it, the character reaches a point of no return. A thin story line lies below but this becomes somewhat clear to the audience only towards the end.

Somewhere in the third act, there are important philosophical questions brought up that really make you scratch your head. So this time when I watched the film I wondered, was Aronofsky suddenly so fascinated by all this “information” and “ideas” that he chose to make a film about them? Or was it to make a film about a character who has quite certainly, lost track of everything around him and is just buried into a world of mathematics and eventually religion and philosophy? It’s frankly, very hard to tell. ‘Pi’ is so “well rounded” that you can’t attribute the director’s interests to one particular thing. It’s a cumulative factor made up of numerous elements, some that we can’t even notice.

One of my favourite aspects of this movie is the narration. It’s the first thing that attracted me when I had just watched the film. Is he an “unreliable narrator”? I’d like to think so but on paper he isn’t, I guess. It’s a concept I’m extremely excited by. From the popular films you could check out ‘Shutter Island’ or ‘The Usual Suspects’ , there are quite a few others. So it’s fascinating how the narration is used in this film. My favourite line from the Max’s (lead character) voice over is,

“When I was a little kid, my mother told me not to stare into the sun, so when I was six I did…”

I think this line is repeated 3 times (after a few revisits you could end up with such derivations). Frankly, it’s such a plain and simple line but there’s something very attractive about it. It sums up who Max really is. We understand that he is a rebel, he has a cause, he is interested in nature and he is not bothered by how nature could harm him. All these character traits are seen throughout the film and they are brought to the surface by the use of this excellent line of monologue.

The characters of Marcy Dawson and Sol are less talked about. Towards the start of the film, we could assume that Sol is what Max wants to be. Sol, however, is “wiser” and the wisdom comes from having already done what Max is doing right now. It’s all about numbers and derivations. It’s about pushing machines to their limits. It’s about what numbers mean in the larger sense. Marcy Dawson reminds me of the TV show Ellen Burstyn’s character aspires to be on in ‘Requiem for a dream’. It’s just that tone of voice and how Aronofsky uses it to “cut through the chaos” and the frequency of the same simply adds to the chaos. In the film you see Max struggling (in every sense of the word) to find an answer. He even suffers physically and so does his machine. His neighbour knocks on the door, he doesn’t answer. During times like these, he gets a call from Dawson and she talks in a tone of voice similar to that of someone trying to sell a product or a service via a telephone. It’s this peculiar tone of voice that is maintained throughout the film.

If you study the film closely, you see that every character has a peculiar tone of voice / accent / way of talking. All this adds to the tone of the entire film. These are important to how the film “feels as an experience” and for a first time director, it’s commendable.

I couldn’t begin to imagine what watching ‘Pi’ in the 90s must have felt like. I know it was rejected and hated on by a lot of people and eventually it turned out to be an indie classic. Darren Aronofsky deserves a lot of credit for sticking to his guns and never changing his voice for the Producers of his films. He has his ideas, that are hard to test. Even his films don’t test. There’s always a division over his films not just amongst the critics but also amongst the audiences. For me however, all his films are special. He offers us thrilling, brilliant independent films sometimes with star casts you would never see in “indie films”. He is well aware of how his movies could be “an assault on the senses” a quote used for his recent exceptional film ‘Mother!’ (That I was lucky enough to watch on a big screen TWICE in two days).

Black Swan

Probably Aronofsky’s most successful film commercially (not sure). I can make this assumption because it is certainly his most talked about film in recent years and in that aspect it is on par with ‘Requiem for a dream’.

Interesting quote by Aronosky on the movie is “Ballet fans don’t like horror and horror fans don’t like ballet”.

This one line could be used to gauge through all of Darren Aronofsky’s films. He has always tried to “subvert” genres and “cross over” and he does this so brilliantly that the film as a whole is it’s own type of unique blend that quite certainly hasn’t been watched before. Natalie Portman has given us spellbinding performances over the years, right from her child actor days. This might be her best ever performance. I also think the recent film by Pablo Larrain ‘Jackie’ (also produced by Darren Aronofsky) was one of her best. There’s obviously a long list of performances by Portman pre ‘Black Swan’ that could be strong contenders for the title.

The film starts on a beautiful and subtle note. There’s a breakfast scene somewhere in the beginning and you see Nina talk to her mother. There’s a cute round of laughing that follows. Sometime later, Nina takes a train to work and things begin to wobble. Darren Aronofsky and Paul Thomas Anderson are probably the best working filmmakers when it comes to “shifting” or “changing” emotion rapidly. ‘Black Swan’ really is a rollercoaster ride. It’s impossible, just impossible to get your eyes off this movie even for a second. You are so involved that you become Nina. You feel what she feels and you start anticipating danger the way she does. Jealously and insecurity are crucial emotions here and Aronofsky preys on them very intelligently. It’s not just jealousy on Nina’s part but also on the others.

The concept of “the darker side” is what keeps Nina on the edge. Vincent Cassel’s performance is so good, at times you just can’t pin point his motive. Nina initially believes she can embody both the swans but Cassel’s character Thomas has doubts about the “Black Swan”. He doesn’t find her to be seductive enough. What happens over time is a transition on Nina’s part. The way Portman chooses to embody this transition is applaudable. Nina in the first half of the film is not the Nina in the second half. It’s one of the smoothest character transitions in film history. You can’t begin to imagine how hard it must be when you’re playing a ballet dancer and are required to cross over emotionally while also having “episodes” at frequent intervals. Let’s say you’re playing the character of a gangster like the ones in ‘City of God’. The transitions are quick and rather simple because a large part of it is “understood”. When you’re dealing with such a fragile and subtle world, it’s extremely difficult to understand just how you would have to be two different persons over the better part of 2 hours and make that transition seem justifiable and smooth. All the nuances you attempt will be exposed. Every move will be noted and every emotion will be remembered.

It also brings up a question, “Do we all have a darker side?”

An unsaid message could be, yes we do. Nina had a darker side she wasn’t aware of. Her behaviour and overall demeanour changes as she starts grappling with the character of the black swan. She is not the same person anymore. She doesn’t become an easy person to be around. But she has a goal. A goal she is extremely insecure about.

Darren Aronofsky’s films are often a carefully managed mishmash of a lot of things. A lot of emotions, a lot of thoughts, ideas and feelings. They almost always start at a point and go to a point you couldn’t ever imagine. During the process of this, you don’t get the time to guess “Where will this go?” Because you are extremely involved with the character. Aronofsky’s films are always miles ahead of it’s audience.

Looking at his filmography, it’s the same as watching each of his films. You just don’t know what he would get his hands on next. Here’s looking forward to many many many more Darren Aronofsky films.

Oscar 2018 Predictions

(Some categories have been left out) 

Best Picture: 

“Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri”

Wild Pick

“Call me by your name”

Best Actress: 

Frances McDormand (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri)

Wild Pick:

Sally Hawkins (The Shape of Water)

Best Actor: 

Gary Oldman (Darkest Hour)

Wild Pick (SHOULD WIN):

Daniel Day Lewis (Phantom Thread)

Best Director: 

Guillermo del Toro (The Shape of Water) 

Wild Pick: 

Christopher Nolan (Dunkirk) 

Best Supporting Actress: 

Allison Janney (I, Tonya)

Wild Pick:

Laurie Metcalf (Lady Bird) 

Best Supporting Actor: 

Sam Rockwell (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri)

Wild Pick: 

Woody Harrelson (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri)

Best Adapted Screenplay:

“Call me by your name” ,James Ivory

Wild Pick: 

“Mudbound” ,Virgil Williams and Dee Rees

Best Original Screenplay: 

“Get Out” , Jordan Peele

Wild Pick: 

“Lady Bird”, Greta Gerwig

Best Cinematography

“Blade Runner 2049,” Roger Deakins

Wild Pick:
“Dunkirk”, Hoyte van Hoytema

Best Foreign Language Film: 

“The Square”

Wild Pick (SHOULD WIN): 

“Loveless”

Music (Original Score) 

“Phantom Thread,” Jonny Greenwood

Wild Pick: 

“The Shape of Water,” Alexandre Desplat

Best Film Editing:

“Dunkirk”

Wild Pick:

“Baby Driver”

Best Production Design:

“Blade Runner 2049”

Wild Pick: 

“Dunkirk”

Make up and Hairstyling: 

“Darkest Hour”

Costume Design: 

“Phantom Thread”, Mark Bridges

Wild Pick:

“Shape of Water”

Best Sound Editing: 

“Dunkirk”

Wild pick:

“Blade Runner 2049”

Best Sound Mixing: 

“Dunkirk”

Wild Pick:

“Blade Runner 2049”

Best Visual Effects: 

“Blade Runner 2049”

Wild Pick: 

“War for the Planet of the Apes”

Best Animated Feature: 

“Coco”

Wild Pick: 

“Loving Vincent”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Phantom Thread: The perfect last film

No Spoilers until there are. 

Daniel Day Lewis is inarguably the greatest living actor of this generation. Very few actors even come close to his level, at this point. His body of work is so remarkable, it’s actually unbelievable. Every single time the man has appeared on screen, he’s done something pathbreaking that has managed to carve it’s own space in cinema history. Yes, history. So what happened when he announced his retirement? Shock. Sadness. Bit of anger. Rage. More sadness. Anger. But between all this, the inability to get yourself to wait for his last film. Phantom Thread. 

 

There will be blood (2007) was Paul Thomas Anderson and Daniel Day Lewis’ last collaboration. Boy, what a film, what a performance. The film really made you question the conventional ideas of character motivation and how projecting that has no rule, whatsoever. Daniel Plainview is one of Daniel Day Lewis’ greatest ever characters. Even for a man with a career like his. Writing about this film will need another long piece, so let me not get into that. On to Phantom Thread. 

This film was already special because of it’s collaboration. Paul Thomas Anderson Directing. Daniel Day Lewis as the lead actor. Holy shit. Then we got to know about the retirement and it became far more special and also, emotional. There was a rough idea in my mind, about what to expect from this last collaboration. Having only watched the trailer and avoided every written piece about it, I clearly wanted to be thrown off guard. PT Anderson has done that to me and millions of others with almost every film. This time, I needed it more than ever. The argument of movie build up sometimes ruining a movie is often justified but mostly, it’s utter nonsense. If the film holds, the expectations you went in with should be rendered irrelevant. It’s the same reason why some films surprise us. About the entire world PT Anderson creates in Phantom Thread, what fascinates me a lot is how the idea that flows under this film would need such strong conviction and belief before creating this world in the first place. Anderson has quite candidly and jokingly spoken about how the idea came to him (when he was lying sick in his house one evening) but to actually take it forward and build all this (especially because it’s a period film) on the basis of one idea, that is nothing short of insane, requires a tremendous sense of confidence in one’s own storytelling. PT Anderson deserves to be applauded for that.

 

The film is set in 1950s London and is centred around Reynolds Woodcock, a dressmaker who falls in love with a strong willed waitress, Alma. Woodcock is all about his work, his work and his work. There is nothing else his life has space for. Alma is a strong woman who wants him to herself. Reynolds works with his sister and is highly reputed as a dressmaker. He is obsessive about every inch or should I say, stitch.

SPOILERS

Woodcock as a character is almost a license to be insane. In no manner does PT Anderson make it look like his obsessiveness is costing him. In his personal space, yes sure. But on the professional front, women would die to be in his dresses (literally). Woodcock, strangely enough, does want Alma around him and doesn’t want her around at the same time. He seems like a man who wants things happening around him or just people “existing” around him but not intruding with any of his work. Another way of looking at it is, he wants people around him who help him and give an impetus to his work. Nothing and no one else. Even the slightest sound could get on his nerves during his breakfast work session.
Jimmy Kimmel, while talking to PT Anderson brilliantly pointed out the humour in the film. The kind of humour used in Phantom Thread is an incredible brand of dark humour. The obsessiveness can get you to laugh but also, sort of, make you sit back and observe this man and his routine that never stops making your jaw drop, really.

Reynolds’ sister, played remarkably by Lesley Manville, is an extremely intriguing character. Her relationship with Reynolds is almost like a business relationship. Surely, that’s nothing short of what he wants but he also wants to use her as a bouncing board for his frequent rants, which she is not at all ready for. She warns him about “getting into an argument” with her. She says he wouldn’t want to and yes, he does seem like he doesn’t want to. She helps him with his work but he also wants to run his complains at her, every now and then which she, quite rightly, refuses to entertain. She acts as an intermediary between Alma and Reynolds, not establishing her stance clearly. She is fond of Alma but hates Reynolds’ routine being disturbed that would hamper the business and in turn, her business relationship with him. It’s a vicious cycle where people want things so blatantly and unapologetically.

Finally, Alma played by Vicky Krieps, is an intriguing and exciting character. You must understand, if she didn’t enter this story, the monotonous life of Reynolds and his sister Cyril would go on and on. Alma initially appears to us as an innocent young girl who is intrigued by and interested in this old, obsessive man. If you didn’t ask yourself why she would be, you have the answer in the end. His obsessiveness is presented to her right at their first meeting when he orders his breakfast. (PT Anderson recently said you can know a lot about a person based on what they have for breakfast https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/feb/01/paul-thomas-anderson-you-can-tell-a-lot-about-a-person-by-what-they-order-for-breakfast)  As bloody crazy as this sounds, it’s strangely exciting as a prospect. There’s a slight change in her demeanour when Reynolds makes her try the dresses. She is a bit embarrassed but after Cyril speaks about his liking towards her, she starts smiling again. What’s so brilliant about her character is the craziness that’s just waiting to come out. With Reynolds, it’s out there. You know it. With Alma, there’s always was a sense of something you were about to discover and get shocked by. Get shocked by indeed.

It’s hard to pick a favourite scene but certainly a scene that was exceptional was the “gun scene”. The humour, craziness or should i say, borderline insanity in this scene is taken to a level Anderson didn’t go to even with There will be blood. 

The scene above is probably in the 5 best scenes of 2017 (Not yet sure if it’s going to top. Yet to watch 12-15 films)

The genius of Anderson’s writing and storytelling style lies to you about the kind of film Phantom Thread is, all the way. Until this point. The biggest hint at this being a twisted love story is shown to us when Woodcock asks Alma to marry him in that slow track in shot, after he was poisoned. The writing genius makes sure you think this is only because “he admires the way she took care of him”. Well, yes but what lies below that is jaw dropping. Just the crazy thought of it.

Phantom Thread is almost like an ode to insanity, in some sense. One of the most fascinating things about it and about a lot of Anderson’s work is how he sometimes mixes subtlety with insanity and craziness. This film is the greatest testament to that. The treatment is subtle and resembles any classic film (a lot thanks to the brilliant background music by Jonny Greenwood) and Anderson uses your knowledge and understanding of such classics to fool you into believing this is a story like those that you have watched over the years. Even if you’ve followed his work for a long time and know something insane would eventually come up, his storytelling style manages to tell the greatest lie a film has told you in 2017.

As for Daniel Day Lewis, we hope you change your mind. We hope another film comes to your doorstep and you just can’t help but agree to jump on board. Cinema needs you. Acting needs you. Art needs you. But even if you stick with this decision, you have left iconic work behind that we will revisit, forever. 

 

Why no filmmaker is compelled to do anything

Over the years, there’s been a rising misconception that a fictional film based on certain historical elements or consisting of historical characters (or just people who actually lived) is bound to or by law has to project all the elements as though it were a reflection of a History text book.

NO filmmaker HAS TO do anything, first let’s get that clear. Just like NO potential audience member HAS TO watch any film. 

It’s really that simple.

To explain this for the dummies, who think every filmmaker making a historical film has a responsibility to massage their egos, let me give you the example of Inglorious Basterds. This is a film by Quentin Tarantino, arguably one of the best filmmakers working today. The film won an Academy Award (and was nominated for another 7) and hey, the Academy and Quentin himself know so much more about cinema and film history than most or all of you. So why is this film relevant with regards to the pointless noise around SLB’s Padmavati?

In this film, QT distorted famously known historical “facts” (that even 8 year olds know) to fit into a story HE wove around characters who had lived. ADOLF HITLER WAS KILLED IN A MOVIE THEATRE, IN THIS FILM.The film is largely regarded as one of Tarantino’s Best Films. No body got offended by this distortion. Because it is FICTION. It is not a documentary. This is the first point I’m trying to get across.

Secondly, where are all the comments about Padmavati coming from? How many of those people have even watched the film? Not a single person, making noise for fifteen minutes of fame, having seen nothing but the trailer (which also, I highly doubt they’ve seen). So on basis of PRESUMPTION, they’re already DECIDING that they WILL be offended by the film. Before watching a second of the film. This happened with a lot of films out here. It happened with Prakash Jha’s Aarakshan as well. If I’m not wrong, it happened with a few words in the lyrics of Dibakar Banerjee’s Shanghai as well and has happened famously with a LOT of films. Many people have USED films to get the fame and limelight they have always been craving.

Thirdly, and this part is overtly disturbing, people are justifying a violent attack on Mr Bhansali which came months before the film, for something that MIGHT be in the film. There are two problems here. One, you are justifying violence for your own misunderstanding surrounding a director working on a film with historical elements and two, you don’t even know what is in the film. So according to these folks, a violent act on an innocent artist is justified because the film he is currently shooting MIGHT have something in it that MIGHT offend SOMEONE.

Fourthly, we have such a rich history. How many filmmakers on a commercial level are even making anything even minutely historical? The ones who are projecting the absolute beauty of those Worlds, always find themselves, in some sort of a problem that inadvertently builds up to a controversy. This discourages filmmakers from making historical films and then people say “Why aren’t they making films on our rich culture / heritage?” It’s because every time someone even comes close to making something about a historical character, SOMEONE decides to stand up and use that to gain some fame. SOMEONE or the other calls for a ban, calls for cuts, and so on.

Take a moment to think about this. All the people who are making this noise at the moment, how many opportunities would they get to get their names on all these platforms? To be seen on TV? To be written and spoken about? To be debated about on news shows? Very few or none. Some of them will use these opportunities to provide a proof of their existence. This is it. They are done now. They got what they wanted. At the expense of a great filmmaker, a large crew, who I’m sure have worked extremely extremely hard to create something that looks this spectacular.

There are no rules for a fiction film. No rules anywhere. That is why it is called fiction. Cinema, literature and the like, allow us to take characters who have lived, put them in different, interesting situations and create something. No filmmaker will ever do something to purposefully offend anyone. An artist will only create something because s/he wants to. It’s that simple.

If we make a list of things everyone in India is offended by, no one will be able to make a single film or even a painting or write a novel. 

Art and literature would cease to exist. 

Is ‘Dunkirk’ Christopher Nolan’s worst film?

For those who’ve followed Christopher Nolan right from his early works including Following, his first feature, have always found it hard to pick Nolan’s worst film. Around the time Dark Knight Rises came out, some of these debates had settled. However, the fact that it was a part of trilogy, it’s criticism found occasional but relevant counters. Before I go ahead with this, I have to say, I think it’s almost impossible for Christopher Nolan to make a bad film. Dunkirk is a very good film. But personally, I think it’s Nolan’s worst so far.

In all of Nolan’s films, his characters have been built remarkably. It might have been out of pure intention, but the fact that he refuses to give it time in Dunkirk, is quite damaging to the entire project. The whole idea, I felt, was to build tension, in a short time frame, throwing us right in the middle of something. This is something that might have worked much better with more build up time. Think about the most gripping scenes from Inception. Take that one where Leonardo DiCaprio says “We are not prepared for this”. The tension in that sequence is at a stunning level but we feel it more because of the build up before. The Joker prison scene in The Dark Knight with that ringing cell phone as another example. Take the scenes from The Prestige or Interstellar or Memento or even Insomnia. Christopher Nolan is the master of building tension. Not in Dunkirk however. Yes we feel the tension pretty well but not as well as we are used to by Nolan.

The counter argument to this can be, this was the entire intention. It can also be that there’s a certain bar Nolan has hit with Interstellar and Inception and so on but he hasn’t lost his right to make a smaller film (scale and runtime wise). Both of these are true. But the impact one usually feels, was much lesser in this one. That is something so natural, you cannot come up with it. It’s what you feel.

It was visually stunning
“Visuals were great”. Well, yes. Name one Nolan film which didn’t have great visuals. Watch his 1997 short film Doodlebug. 

Doodlebug (1997)

Even that had great visuals. You can’t be praising things that are sort of a standard in a Nolan picture, can you? Christopher Nolan is deeply inspired by Stanley Kubrick and his works. Primarily, 2001: A Space Odyssey. Over the years, he has incorporated a lot of what he has learnt from his master extraordinarily well. Visuals in a Nolan film are always stunning.

 

The Insomnia argument

Insomnia (2002)

What has not only been gravely unfair and frankly quite disturbing, is the treatment Insomnia gets from most people. Only because the film doesn’t have the grandiose Nolan’s other films have, it is barely considered anywhere near his best. (Obviously, by those who discovered him recently and watched his previous films now) I beg to differ. Insomnia is a fantastic film. Also, it is what put Nolan on the level at which he is today. Most have always kept the film aside while speaking of Nolan’s great works. Those who are doing the same to Dunkirk are not necessarily doing it out of the same reason. I personally love Insomnia much more than Dunkirk. It’s a far superior film with a lot of layers.

The bar

Quentin Tarantino candidly confessed that he always wants to top his previous movie. When asked about Inglorious Basterds, he said he wanted to top that too. With Christopher Nolan, who reached a high point with Interstellar that was extremely hard to top, Dunkirk, came nowhere close. Dunkirk to Interstellar isn’t what Interstellar is to Inception. (Don’t mean to ignore Dark Knight Rises, but lets consider Nolan’s works outside the trilogy)

Summing it up

Christopher Nolan’s new film is always a massive event. It has been for quite a few years now. It will always be. After watching Dunkirk twice, I definitely feel it is far, far and extremely far from Nolan’s best. I think it is his worst movie. Probably after Dark Knight Rises, but his worst. Something quite frequent with Nolan’s movies is the fact that they grow on you. Interstellar did, Inception did, Prestige did, Memento did, Insomnia did, The Dark Knight did. A lot of this has to do with the score, the soul of most of these movies. Particularly Inception and Interstellar, both had this effect and a lot of it was because of the exceptional score by Hans Zimmer. In this film, of course, the score was fascinating. Just like Nolan, it’s impossible for Zimmer to produce something bad. But it all felt like scenes / segments from those films mentioned above at best! As a whole, it wasn’t nearly as effective as any of those movies.

 

It’s harder to label any of Nolan’s films as his best but easier to pick his worst because he’s barely ever had anything that would contend for the spot. Until now.

 

Why ‘A Ghost Story’ is a modern day masterpiece

 

There was something about the first look of A Ghost Story that was so brilliant, I couldn’t wait to watch the film. Everything seemed minimal, well designed and in some ways like a painting. After waiting for the film for quite a few months, I finally had a chance to watch it. I was awestruck. The film blew me away.
David Lowery’s imagery is thought provoking and extraordinarily immersive.

Here’s a summary describing the film via IMDB :

“In this singular exploration of legacy, love, loss, and the enormity of existence, a recently deceased, white-sheeted ghost returns to his suburban home to try to reconnect with his bereft wife.”

The film is simply fascinating. Anything more than that brief ^ would be giving too much away. Lowery uses long takes, gorgeously designed shots, incredible silences and creates a truly immersive experience. Needless to say, we are mostly watching the film from the Ghost’s point of view. Lowery’s depiction of the wandering ghost is so compelling, it forces you to think and rethink a lot of theories you might have heard about ‘life after death’.

The film is far from a horror. It’s more of a fantasy, drama and in some sense, a journey movie. Needless to say, the film is thoroughly original in it’s entirety. There’s a scene quite early in the film between the Ghost and Rooney Mara that for me, was on par with some of the best scenes from Spike Jonze’s Her. The strangeness, mysteriousness and ambiguity used to establish such an emotional connect has been done so brilliantly only a few times in modern day cinema.

A Ghost Story is a modern day masterpiece. David Lowery has created something so fascinating and original that it will be remembered as a benchmark indie film for years to come.