Reviews

I had reason to spend several hours with and paying close attention to the views of the filmmaker, just before the film premiered in Spain; and I found both him and his thinking, truly, fascinating! I found it equally fascinating that a man who had, once, moved audiences with The Killing Fields and The Mission, should believe that this overly plain, almost amateur feel-to-it film - which I had seen, the week before - could ever be expected to transmit to post-Avatar 3D audiences, far less caught up than Roland Joffé in the importance and purpose of redemption in modern-day society.

I, for one, agree that learning to forgive is essential and that without it, we can never find our humanity. Also, I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with 'amateur': the word implies love and vocation, and I'm good with that. 'Overly plain', however, did all-too-frequently smack of 'low-budget, tinny dialogs' and 'shallow performances' - with, to some extent, the exception of Derek Jacobi.

I simply think that people turn to movie theaters for an experience they could never get from multimedia and home cinema; and movie theaters agree to deliver such an experience. And, though some of the action scenes were not entirely uninteresting (and we're, honestly, not asking for Terminators and Jurassics), to make - for general release - an entertaining and viable movie about the value of 'redemption' would appear to be as commercially unlikely as would making a movie about generosity or about humility. Such 'virtues' will either seep through the plot and hit viewers - and, hopefully, stay with them long - after they have left the theater or they won't! Yet, to play such virtues so close to the plot is - I feel - sadly counterproductive, from both a storytelling and a film-viewing point of view.

Mr. Joffé is sure to have enjoyed the experience, engulfed - as he will have been, throughout the film-making process - by this ubiquitous purpose, impregnating so many of his thoughts and actions. It's a shame he didn't give a little more importance to his side of this mutual selfishness pact we call 'film-going': that way, many thousands more might have enjoyed the experience, too.

If you've never wondered what's very likely to happen when the world's oil supplies run out - unless we're lucky enough to have (this very minute!) large numbers of very smart girls and boys in all the right places, developing alternative energy solutions and putting adequate distribution channels in place - then this show will soon put that right... and make you feel very sick, in the process!

I watched this on my birthday. Already, I was in one of those brooding moods, where you wonder what it's all been for and what's still left to do, and whether anyone can possibly kid you into thinking the future will be worth the effort - now, at 46, that you know just how much they've all been pulling the wool down over your eyes (from politicians and teachers, right down to your parents and many of your peers) and how you helped let it happen!

"Aftermath: World Without Oil" is, definitely, not a feel-good experience! Nevertheless, I would ask that this be made mandatory viewing at schools, throughout the industrialized world. Every kid should be made to watch this, 3 or 4 times, along with Monty Python's Life of Brian. Put all kids on a staple diet of truth and humor and, in just a few generations, we could have a future that is actually worth living!

Cheers!

I missed none of today's more usual material movie conventions (35 mm feel, sophist musical score, hyped digital effects, etc.) and instead thoroughly enjoyed the raw distress that the story behind this homemade DV movie conveys. A story well told, developing on the kind of piece you find buried away in a newspaper and that, then, has you thinking all day: wondering what it must have felt like, how it could possibly happen, how you might have felt and/or dealt with it... and just how many millions you would SUE THE NEGLIGENT BASTARDS WHO GOT YOU INTO THAT MESS IN THE FIRST PLACE for!! Really brave hard work by Chris Kentis and Laura Lau (took 30 months to make) and VERY BRAVE and highly effective acting by Blanchard Ryan and Daniel Travis. You try treading water all day, surrounded by dozens of REAL sharks! Simply simple... simply excellent!

Perfect accident because as director Yakin explains, while casting, he almost overloooked Sean Nelson for the part of Fresh and then there would have been no Fresh.

Perfect accident because, tired of Hollywood, Yakin had almost given up on ever making something he felt he could identify with, till friend and producer Lawrence Bender hit the jackpot with Reservoir Dogs and made space for Fresh to be born.

Perfect accident because former The Police-drummer Stewart Copeland writes a beautiful non-rap score that frees Fresh from becoming just another political statement about inner-city living conditions, yet highlights the sparkle and charm of the characters.

Perfect accident because the mastery of Samuel Jackson and Giancarlo Esposito blend to perfection with the innocence of such a young cast.

Perfect accident because Boaz Yakin - away from the constraints of major league production (THANKS AGAIN MIRAMAX and French producers Lumière!!) was able to smash this trash some call Political Correctness to pieces and tell a great story, the way he felt it, not caring where he trod, unafraid of those susceptible-many who confuse storytelling with an accusatory poke in the ribs.

I honestly don't see how such thrilling honest and human films will ever be made while US citizens keep sending signals to Hollywood that all they want is something brainless to go along with their soda and popcorn. Take drugs! They're far more effective and leave cinema to those who want to use their imagination.

Seems to me that over a century of film-making and thousands of films later, most have still not understood that books and literature are one thing and that movies are quite another.

Just because Mr. Tolkien wrote three books, does not mean there have to be three films. It could have been two and it could have been five! We're watching and listening to the story, not reading it! The intensity of the senses applied in film-viewing is completely different to that which we apply in reading books, just as reading a novel has us differently poised to when we read poetry, or when we look at a painting as compared to admiring a sculpture.

For a start, Mr. Tolkien may, rightly, have entitled the second part of his trilogy "The Two Towers" and may even have made some reference to two such towers; but, what reference, if any, does the film make to one tower, let alone two??? A good title for a book does not, necessarily, make for a good title for a movie. I would have called this something like "Preparing For The Great Battle". After all, we all know the movie isn't really a movie; that it's only an episode, so why not give it a title more befitting an episode.

If you're going to take concepts described in literature and adapt them to film, then, consider the mind... Consider the intelligence of the viewer. If Tolkien conjures up images of an enchanted forest, make them just that: images of an enchanted forest. Trust the viewers' imagination and intelligence. Trees that walk and talk come off far better in Ralph Bakshi's animated version - if only because, as it is all cartoon, there is no stark sudden contrast between the realistic and the unrealistic. There is nothing magically genial (certainly nothing realistic) about Mr. Jackson's version of Beardtree and his Ent mates who, instead, suddenly turn a slow-moving overlong believable production into a slow-moving overlong UNbelievable cheap-looking film.

Long epic battles read well, but they translate poorly onto screen. One of the reasons why Gladiator was such a delight to watch is that the opening battle was turned into short sharp memorably effective punch. What could anyone describe as memorable about the battle in this movie?? I'm sure it'll give those who believe that films are intended as a prequel to video game spinoffs great satisfaction to know they'll be swinging swords and killing Orks for hours and hours, JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIE!

Watch Mr. Bakshi's animation (6 out of 10). In two hours, he'll give you the full sense of the first two books in Tolkien's trilogy, directly and unpretentiously. If you want anything more than that, or you just want to know how it all ends, you'll simply have to read every last word of that thousand-page Trilogy.

This film is worth 4 out of 10.

Though some would prefer to comment on the value of Bond movies in the connection of learning frequency, and while most of the jargon that tends to limit Bond to a meager 007 following has been exploited beyond all reasonable contention, there are several redeeming plausibilities that extend the credibility of Sean Connery in this doubling role that had seen its counterpart adaptation in part of a previous performance by Jessica Tandy in Driving Miss Daisy. While Connery had been less visible in the latter, his woman-seeker qualities had maybe not cast a frown on the face of embittered spectators as it would in this latest rendition which, to most involved, approached the 007 theme with kind resentment, albeit while the general flavor had been altered. Great for those who interest others while faking to be who you're not!

Why, sorry? Because I played a part in this (call it a) movie and cannot be proud that I did.

This was my second piece in a movie. Not a word to speak, but a name part, all the same. At first, I was thrilled... For, yes, it really was a privilege, having Jeff Goldblum's fine FINE work to watch and learn from, over the three days that I was on set. And, yes, I thoroughly enjoyed meeting and working with names I had long known, such as Shane Rimmer (Out of Africa, The Spy Who Loved Me) Greta Scacchi (Presumed Innocent, Le Violon Rouge) and Peter Bowles (To The Manor Born, The Irish R.M.). And, I'll, certainly, never forget comedian John Sessions' hilarious impersonations - between takes - of Robert de Niro, Anthony Hopkins, Joe Pesci and Roger Moore.

However, I am forever embarrassed and disgusted with myself at not having trusted my own judgement and at having, instead, allowed "director" Carl Francis to "not direct" me. I would have used "misdirect", only all I saw him do (over three days) was pout and moan, but never once direct nor even misdirect the actors. I should have known not to trust him when, having been auditioned by Mr Francis, in person, I was called in to play some guy called Ring Lardner, though not told till the day before and - because I had no lines to speak - was ignored and given no background material on the character. The character, I found out, later, just happened to be one of lead character Herbert Biberman's closest friends!! Instead, I was just told to "stand there" or "sit there", with only my common sense and inexperience to rely on (I had only had a played another minor film role, prior to this).

My part may have been insignificant compared to, say, Jeff Goldblum's Biberman or, indeed, compared to anyone else's. But when a director and his team decide to overlook the supposed "minor" details, you can be sure they do so because they're having trouble coping with the "bigger" stuff. And, if you ever waste a second of your life watching "One of the Hollywood Ten" you'll see what I mean!

This film is a free-for-all; a riot, in the saddest sense of the word. If you had the vast self-assuredness and professional aplomb of someone like Mr Goldblum or Ms Scacchi, you were sure to do a good job (no-one to stop you!) even if your effort was later completely wasted or misplaced within the haphazard confines of Mr Francis' movie. If, on the other hand, you were a beginner, then, you were finished before you'd even had a chance to start. A cast brimming with professionals might just have made it happen, regardless of the movie's directing. Sadly, however, this was not the case, for many of the "minor" parts in the cast (and there were many slightly-above-extra roles in this film) had been filled with inexperienced English-speaking film actors, such as myself, most of us living here, in cheap-labour Spain, which is where most of the film was shot.

As with any society, a film is a universe, where everything - from its subatomic particles, through to its larger atoms and, even, the greater moons and planets - needs to feel it has its place; an orbiting code. Without codes, chaos and voids appear.

This film is a chaos and a void. Avoid this film!

As I read through user comments on Sex and the City, I note that many get "Carried" away (groan) by the degree of veracity the show might or might not be reflecting.

Why seek veracity on television...? Why should this new (not so new) RELIGION, this opium of the masses, be any different to any other? Supposedly, the point to the whole trip is TO REMEMBER NOT TO FORGET NOT TO BELIEVE WHAT YOU SEE!!! Movies, literature, poetry, music, TV comedies... All these are mere illusional disciplines, creative arts where artistic license rules... and where artistic license can kill, too, if we forget the fundamental rule: that we are simply viewers, and that documentaries are meant to frighten through overt clarification, that films are meant enthrall us with their larger-than-life techniques, that news bulletins are meant to condition us with their partial and very limited slant on events, and that TV comedies are meant to liberate us from the throes of daily routine, precisely through parodies and caricatures of those very routines, of our complexes, our limitations and our errors.

If Sex and the City does not work for you as a comedy, why waste your time knocking it or getting all het up over it, when you could, simply, switch channels or switch off and go believe some book, or film, or song...? And, if you really want a taste of veracity, there's always some religion, where you can meditate and pretend life's not really happening.

Sex and the City seems to work for me, just like soma did for all but one, in Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, and I look forward to my next shot. For, after a lifetime of useless searching for what's "real", I needed something to work for me. Something easy.

Pathetic... Aren't I?

I've always had this idea that popcorn and Coke were added to fill a void that most film storylines leave untouched. That such a void can filled at all, simply by bloating out stomachs with toasted corn and carbonated sugar water, is a subject that might well be worth entering into, another day. "Kirikou et la sorcière" has the spartan charm of so many stories and fables from Africa. It is as if the scarcity of food and water that illustrated in this story - as in so many like it - had, in turn, to be compensated by making the fable rich in wondrous colourful fantasy and highly nourishing in details that describe the frequently comical and pathetic side to human behaviour. The travesty I see is that, while this film is available in German, French and Spanish, puritans in countries like the US and the UK have, once again, determined that - in an effort at sparing depraved censors the discomfort of twitching at the sight of happily naked village kids and their semi naked mothers - my children shall not be allowed to learn about life in cultures other than their own, nor to hear lessons of great wisdom but may, instead, freely view animated violence and large doses of their own recycled high school yarns. Cannibalise cartoon & eat Pokemon!

My girlfriend wouldn't see a late night showing of this film, afraid she might not be able to sleep, so we sat down to a mid-afternoon performance of Hannibal. The film had it all. Or, rather, Mr. Ridley had it all. Just as Jonathan Demme before him, in Silence of the Lambs, he had a predecessor to learn from; two, in fact, as Mr. Demme had only known Michael Mann's Manhunter. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Ridley crafts himself a beautiful vessel. Colored with all the tans and shades that have characterised Bladerunner, Black Rain and others, laden with the striking photographic qualities that made Gladiator and 1492 so exquisite, set in the Italy of Visconti and Fellini, regailed by the bewitching scores of Hans Zimmer et al and piloted by the brilliance of Anthony Hopkins and Julianne Moore... I simply fell asleep... Only to wake up right at the end, just before closing time, stirred by something resembling a twitch from my girlfriend, to my left, and a hum from the audience around me. All that runway and such magnificent potential, only to lift off just before the credits have begun to roll! So disappointing! Still, at least she had no problems sleeping...

Willem Dafoe and Martin Scorcese together portray a version of Jesus Christ which, in my opinion, gives prophet-followers - and not just Christians - food for thought, smashing many taboos and serving to create the potential for the story of Christ to become a spiritually philosophical reference for the suffering, thinking, questioning men and women of the planet rather than the blind obedience opium of the anonymous masses that it had been for nigh on two millenia.

Peter Gabriel's music is as brutally appropriate and inspired as the directing and the acting.