Mad Max: Fury Road

Director: George Miller 2015

Reviewed by: Gail Spencer

Back in the day, films were made from concepts and ideas, with little revenue and the popularity would justify a couple of sequels. The original Mad Max (1979 and hereafter MM)was made for $200,000, put both Ozploitation and Mel Gibson on the map (he had made a soapy soppy TV movie with Piper Laurie called 'Sam' before MM, but the post-apocalyptic outing of George Miller made him a megastar). Prior to the need for risk aversion in film making, the likes of MM were cult hits and made tons of money. Figures on The Numbers (dot) com suggest that the release of Mad Max: Fury Road will inspire a new found interest in the original three. Prior to the onset of found footage and The Blair Witch Project, MM held the record for least outlay/most receipts ratio. It spawned two sequels (the third starring a camp Tina Turner at the height of her eighties success and a top hit to go with it). This release is supposed to be an addition to the triumvirate as opposed to a (yawn) remake of a well-loved classic. 

Mad Max: Fury Road is an incomprehensible mess as a narrative with relatively little time or patience with character development or motive concerning itself mostly with pace, action and production design. A fantastical amount of machines were made for the film and it takes place in the context of a car chase and escape mission. This will appeal to the video games market and it is consciously aware of the predominantly male, young target audience who will whoop it up. 

There are continuity flaws which are gapingly sufficient to drive a manmade diesel fuelled truck through, the biggest example is the consistent and irritating switch of a semi oiled/clean face of Furiosa, played by the ever gorgeous Charlize Theron, who is rescuing five wives of the arch villain who regardless of cramped conditions, tons of dust and dirt, manages to adorn pure white clothing and flawless skin throughout the proceedings. . 

It begins with the hero Max (played by the wonderful and brilliant Tom Hardy, worthy of much better) making, or rather breaking his way out of an imposed existence, reminiscent of the production design and story premise of Apocalypto where there is a barely controlled madness overseen by an oligarchy of despots, with, in this instance, those in control depriving the citizens of water.  Max spends most of the film wearing a hideous metal face mask on the front of a car driving at a squillion miles an hour being chased by at least twenty more cars, one of which has a guitarist on top of it playing a guitar that omits fire.

The consistent  and irritating flashbacks we are given POV Max, have no context, structure or explanation, mostly in the form of a deranged child. Everyone is stark raving mad with no historical context presented of a better existence, but just the need for hope and redemption. 

The noise is the biggest star in the feature. It was/is deafening, but the effort in the machinery, the action sequencing and the driving skills impressive sufficient to be breath taking. The makeup and costumes, very impressive and the 2nd and 3rd AD's (assistant directors) will have worked very hard. It is worth seeing for the spectacle that it is, but in spite of its impressive action, it lacks the staying power of the original: all effort is made after viewing to get the noise out of the head of the viewer. 

There is a controversial pop video somewhere with the scene of a scream being blown into the face of an old lady with sufficient force to ripple the skin. Go prepared for similar treatment and effect. 

Some number crunching: Mad Max in 1979 cost $200,000, but to date has taken $99,750,000. This is a budget to takings ratio of 498/1. Mad Max: Fury Road cost $140,000,000 to make and has taken (at time of press), $229,989,536. To be the equal of its predecessor, that figure would have to grow to 69 billion, 720 million. Yeah, right. That's doable. Somehow somewhere the cult classics of now, tapping into the social mores of now are being made, or thought about. Pray that is the case. 

On general release now.

Far from The Madding Crowd

Director: John  Schlesinger: 1967

Reviewed by: Gail Spencer

There are some scenes in cinema that stay with you forever: when Gabriel Oak (Alan Bates) loses his entire flock over a cliff then shoots the sheep dog responsible, it wrenches guts. This film, rightly and in timely fashion is being rereleased as the remake (with the unremarkable and overrated Carey Mulligan) is on general, theatrical release. The actors in this film are all at their career peaks with some major acting chops collectively under belts by the time this sumptuous and beautiful treat hit the screens. Terry and Julie (Terrance Stamp and Julie Christie) both of them so attractive and alive with 1960s swinging London clout, feel a little out of place. Julie came to this drama, with Darling another JS feature as comparison. 

It is adapted from the novel by Thomas Hardy, and brings to life the nasty love triangle (or quadrangle) with Bathsheba the focus of affections of three very different men, but does so whilst giving us a view of rural life in England. Like The Witchfinder General, the English countryside is as much the unintentional star as the rest of the impossibly good looking players. Peter Finch as the lovesick Lord of the Manor type - a tad scenery chewing in his fits of pique - his outbursts a little hard to believe from someone from that time with evident money and stature. 

It feels often that the characters are caricatures or deliberate cliché with real motive and action elusive. Gabriel, by far and above the best of the three men should be wondering around with a long blade of grass hanging out his mouth, wellies on covered in mud, with white farmers tunic. The interactions between Finch (William Boldwood) and Stamp (Captain Troy) are embarrassing to watch with the deliberate one upmanship looking decidedly like it may turn into a cheesy duel, with one slapping the other in the face with a gauntlet. There is an abundant and inexplicable lack of control in the expression of emotion, which is hardly characteristic of the English.  This lies in stark contrast to the adaptations of say, Jane Austin where the characters are constrained but below the surface lies a bastion of motive frustrated by social mores of the time.

Bathsheba grates as a character. She seems superficially emancipated taking control of a farm and subsequent harvests - dealing with staff and the housekeeping, but the interactions with the men who find her so impossibly beguiling are extremely irritating.  No one in their right mind would send a card with a proposal as a joke, however this woman does and no-one believes she is mad. The playfulness is never fully explained. Captain Troy feels like the character in the song 'Soldier, soldier - will you marry me?' and the choice Bathsheba makes like the character singing it. The best bits by far are those that depict the life of that incidental to the main characters. There is a lovely around the table al fresco sing along with Bathsheba enjoying her workers, drunk on ale - the smell of grass is almost in the air. It's like the barn building sequence in Witness, evocative, pleasing giving us a real sense of collective simple enjoyment of a particular way of life. 

The film is, like the lead characters beautiful to look at and at times deeply atmospheric, but the characterisations lacking depth or explanation of motive.

Available now as a rerelease on DVD

Gail Spencer

Listen Up Phillip

Director: Alex Ross Perry,  2015

Reviewed by Gail Spencer

As is the norm, Eureka! Is right on the money in giving us this delight of a film. Set in New York, it follows the lives of interconnected folk in the big city - all of whom are involved in some way in the creative industries (writing/PR/photography)with the central character, Phillip, played by Jason Schwartzman representing a budding novelist and his lot. So then, we are looking at a lot of intense introspection and observations about relationships. But this is NOT Woody Allen. This has far more wit and is sharper in its delivery methodology.

To a certain extent, it has no equal: like Dogville, the Lars Von Triers film, the narration come voice over accompanies the action/conversations in the film but does so with tongue in cheek reference to actual truth. The truth is inverted by both players and narration - whose job it is to provide some insight as to intent of characters but puts it across in a way which involves the audience in the delusions. What is being told in the narration is a version of what is going on, but so is the interpretation of realities as expressed by the characters. 

It is a very clever film and belongs up there with My Dinner With Andre as a small, indie gem that will resonate with intelligentsia, academia and the navel gazing in a way few films achieve but many attempt. It could and would translate well in French and is near to them emotionally as a quiet comedy of manners. Whilst the film is set in New York, the city itself is not made part of the cinematic landscape. In a quiet way it deals with ambition, disappointment (both romantic and vocational) the strains of city life, cultural stereotyping, the need for company and solitude, the creative impulse, disappointment with life and people, and the constant battle in art to consistently outdo your best and keep up with the creative Jones's. 

The central character though is not anywhere as interesting as Ike Zimmerman (played by an older, white haired Jonathan Pryce), the mentor/writer that Phillip has attached himself to - but is in no way trying to emulate. The narration begins with Phillip confronting a girlfriend of the past as he goes to meet her but she is 25 minutes late. His acerbic and nuts need to express every emotion and whim just as he experiences it manages to alienate his entire world: this is especially true of his decision to NOT go through the process of publicising his work and going through the marketing mill. Whilst all artists would probably agree to hating this aspect of their work, this fellow has the ego system to believe that his work can live without it. 

His raison d'etre is to berate those closest to him and has absolutely no emotional intelligence whatsoever: his girlfriend is as, if not more successful than he is but his belief that she will keep him in her life, regardless of the fact he spends considerable time out of it, is totally lost on him.  The version of himself he believes in is fed by Ike, who does often deliver the most misogynist sentiments, usually to his berating and beautiful daughter, Melanie (Krysten Ritter). One of the funniest segments is when the career of Ike is explained through an on screen retrospective of Ike and his works which includes a book entitled 'Women & Madness' and he explains to Philip whilst watching women walking around an academic faculty 'they will always want far more than we can ever give.' 

None of the characters are likeable, there is no one, or situation to root for, this never really matters - it’s the wit and humour which appeal and drive the film. There is also a consistent reminder of the writer's dependency on drink. Ike never stops hitting the 25 year old single malt whenever he starts to make a point. The clichés are there but are self knowingly put. 

Each character in turn has a perspective but this is not delivered in a way that has us believe that we need the component parts to complete perspectives or story. The character of Ashley, played by the appealing and talented Elizabeth Moss (Peggy in Mad Men) is easily the sanest and most grounded of them all - though in reality would have dumped Phillip at first sojourn (Phillip goes to Ike's country retreat for an entire summer). The dialogue is just superb and the entire works is carried by a gentle jazz score, which unlike Gershwin in Allen's Manhattan doesn't hit over the head with a 'this is New York' message. The score - like the architecture and attitudes, deal with New York very subtly.  

The only flaw is the sometimes irritating camera work: a party scene at Ike's retreat is very hard work (like watching the location establishing shots in NYPD Blue)which for the rest of the film is great (the focus on each character in close up to watch all nuances of emotion and thought) in this sequence feels busy. That aside this is a perfect film and all attempts should be made to see it and own it. 

In general release in the UK/Ireland from June 5th.

Tokyo Tribe

Director: Sion Sono

Reviewed by: Gail Spencer

Gutsy, violent, funny and relentless - this film is strange, an acquired taste for sure but unbelievably compelling. For openers, we are introduced to its unique premise and delivery via rap: the entire film is given to us in rhyming couplet - but with the visceral qualities usual in some of Asian Extreme. 

The director, a well-loved Japanese talent brought us Love Exposure, brings together a piece that has influences East and West - Gangs of New York is here, chambara (the special effect of fierce and pulsating bloodletting after amputations), Battle Royale (in costume), and even West Side Story. The rivalry and cruelty is off set by the humour, and whilst not an easy watch, the combination of the two works well. 

As a starter for ten, we are introduced to the film in its first sequence with a very tiny (aren't they always?), attractive policewoman, after her shirt is torn open has her bare breast held at knifepoint.  One running gag is a phallus/receptacle used as a fast orgasm inducing tool by a gang boss, who rolls his eyes right into the back of his head at the point of ecstasy. Sounds nasty but is as funny as hell. Pitch this against the imagery of granny Hip Hop DJs serving music to the neon streets of Japan. 

The delight of this film is the self-awareness of the work - it knows that its extreme depiction of rival gangs in the future Tokyo should not be taken too seriously. It has noted the gang culture of the West (LA in particular) and taken things a little further…..progressive indeed to depict female beatboxers. We are talking here about a culture that brought us scatting (smearing faecal matter on ones partner during sex, not to be confused with jazz improvisation) and bukkake (the extreme covering of women in a lot of semen). The violence and sex, though intimated more than put on display is hard core, but so is life in the world on display: it never looks or feels gratuitous. 

Inspired and adapted by a manga comic, the central set piece is a dining hall, not dissimilar to the set up in The Cook, The Thief, his Wife and Her Lover, and a lot of the action takes place here, in a brothel and on the streets themselves. All the actors look about nineteen apart from what appears to be a deranged middle aged woman who dances in a high leg cut cocktail dress whilst violence and mayhem is all about her and her middle aged male counterpart, who likes a weird from of public release, dressed in gold larme suit, the kind one would expect from a 1980s Bryan Ferry. Surreal and seductive, the film sometimes feels like a David Lynch with mad and extreme characters doing their thing in the most inappropriate settings. 

This film has to be seen to be believed, but is a cult classic in the making. 

In selected theatres from May 22nd.