Review of 2011: Cinema - 10 Favourite Films

Cinema-memories, 2011.

Texan boyhoods. Parisian chimes at midnight. The end of the world. On Tresco, a painter gives a young man some advice. In Nottingham, two men meet, connect, part. Somewhere, a wedding reception goes off the rails. A Roman hero in a Balkan warzone. A novel use for Viagra. A mother and daughter ponder loss. A portly fantasist turns up in someone else’s fantasy. A waiting cat gets philosophical. Christophe Honoré goes p*rn... Not quite a movie year to match 2010 for me, but, even so, 2011 offered some incredible cinema experiences, many of which demonstrated film’s ability to encompass the domestic and the cosmic as no other medium can do.

                                                         Archipelago (dir. Joanna Hogg)

Joanna Hogg’s tender, funny chamber drama, revealing under-the-surface tensions (and under-the-surface love) on a family vacation on Tresco, makes most other films this year look heavy-handed and overstated by comparison. Beautiful work from Tom Hiddleston, Kate Fahy, Lydia Leonard, Amy Lloyd and Christopher Baker. 

                                                      Weekend (dir. Andrew Haigh)

Well, here’s a surprise. Not one but two British films ending up on this year’s list... Haigh’s Nottingham-set boy-meets-boy romance is perfectly scaled, beautifully observed, brilliantly acted, and convincing in every detail.

                                                        Elena (dir. Andrei Zvyagintsev)

Oh boy. My favourite film of the London Film Festival was Zvyagintsev’s third movie, a subtle but bracingly intense drama that explores issues of class and social status in contemporary Russia through the story of the title character (brilliantly played by Nadezhda Markina). A Tarkovsky for those of us who (confession time) have been bored by the majority of Tarkovsky’s work, Zvyagintsev is as philosophically-inclined as his illustrious predecessor but without losing sight of character and narrative. Elena is a marvellously assured piece of filmmaking: beautifully rhythmed, rich in unstressed details, and full of spaces for the viewer’s involvement and interpretation.

                                                    A Separation (dir. Asghar Farhadi)

I don’t know anyone who didn’t love and admire this: Farhadi’s splendid, complex drama seemed to grip and involve everyone who saw it.

                                                    Melancholia (dir. Lars von Trier)

It’s the end of the world as they know it. And Lars’s characters feel… well, not exactly fine.

                                                 The Tree of Life (dir. Terrence Malick)

As divisive as Melancholia. Sure, “that” montage is a chore and the ending is soggy. But Malick’s grandiose evolution opus has the most wonderful stretches: piercingly evocative scenes of Texan boyhood that strike many deep chords. Risible at its most expansive, then, but singularly affecting at its most personal and intimate.

                                                     Midnight in Paris (dir. Woody Allen)

At which American audiences finally renewed their love affair with Woody Allen. And indeed who could resist Allen’s completely charming and generous-spirited time-travel comedy, a valentine to Paris, an ode to living in the now? Less loved, Allen’s You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger (2010), which got its British release this year, also had its merits, not least a lovely performance from Gemma Jones.

                                                        The Future (dir. Miranda July)

A few very inventive and original movies emerged from America this year, among them Miranda July’s The Future, a brilliant meditation on time that made me exclaim an enthralled “Wow!” on two occasions.

                                                        Dark Horse (dir. Todd Solondz)

Toning down the misanthropy and the shock value a notch Todd Solondz produced in Dark Horse one of his most involving and resonant films, one that follows its portly protagonist into a very odd liaison - and even further into his even odder fantasy life. Its narration unravelling as the protagonist unravels, Dark Horse takes some wonderfully confounding twists and turns as it progresses, culminating in an exquisite  final shot. And few filmmakers can match Solondz’s unnerving ability to capture the sheer awkwardness of human interaction on screen.

Coriolanus (dir. Ralph Fiennes)

And wait a minute ... is that a third British film on the list? Ralph Fiennes’s big ‘n’ brawny adaptation of one of Shakespeare’s least-loved tragedies doesn’t win many points for subtlety. But it's still one of the most memorable Shakespeare adaptations seen in many a year.

Honourable mentions and 2010 releases not seen until this year:

Rabbit Hole, True Grit, Homme Au Bain, A Simple Life, Li and the Poet, Bal, A Screaming Man, Farewell, Animal Kingdom, Potiche 



Film Review: Archipelago (2010)

I missed Joanna Hogg’s film Archipelago (2010) on its theatrical release earlier this year, but having recently seen, and for the most part admired, Hogg’s first film, Unrelated (2008), I was eager to catch up with her most recent work. A chamber drama shot in a spare, austere, painterly style, Archipelago feels very much like a companion piece to Unrelated; in fact, Hogg has spoken of the films as the first two instalments in a loosely connected trilogy. Further, Archipelago reunites the director with one of the stars of her first film, the much-in-demand Tom Hiddleston.

Complementing Unrelated’s exploration of the interactions between a group of family members and friends on holiday in Tuscany, Archipelago’s focus is a family gathering on the Scilly Isle of Tresco. Prior to the departure of 20-something son Edward (Hiddleston) on a volunteering trip to Africa, the Lytton clan hole up at their summer rental on the island to say farewell. Edward’s sister Cynthia (Lydia Leonard) and mother Patricia (Kate Fahy) are present, but notable by his absence is Edward’s father, whose non-appearance becomes the subject of a series of increasingly testy phone-calls with Patricia. Filling out the group are the family’s cook, Rose (Amy Lloyd), who Edward finds himself drawn to, and the soulful artist Christopher (Christopher Baker) who is teaching Patricia how to paint.

Like Unrelated, Archipelago polarised viewers on its release with some finding its measured pace and art-conscious ambience captivating and others deeming its “privileged” protagonists unbearable. This isn’t the moment for a debate on issues of class in British cinema (although I do wonder whether viewers who complained about Archipelago’s comfortably middle-class crew had any problems clucking with sympathy over the travails of a rather more privileged protagonist in The King’s Speech). But what I admire about Archipelago is that it does things that most British films don’t do, and that it does them with discretion, intelligence and finesse.

Hogg is great on domestic detail, on the awkwardness of groups (a restaurant scene here is a mini-classic), on capturing her characters in moments of solitude and reflection, and on atmosphere. This is the kind of film that sharpens the viewer’s perception, and its Hammershoi-inspired compositions (with characters often shot from behind or through doorways) are expressive and interesting, the Tresco locations serving as more than a mere backdrop (as the Italian locations really didn't in Unrelated).

The tensions inherent in the family dynamic emerge believably,  and the performances are engaging. Hiddleston’s work is especially fine, rendering Edward’s passivity and hesitancy exasperating and touching, while Leonard communicates the concern and insecurity that’s lurking under Cynthia’s tetchiness. And Baker (playing a version of himself) is a wonderfully calm presence: a fine late scene in which he provides Edward with a memorable definition of “toughness” is a highlight of the film. I don’t think Hogg means for us to pass a final judgement upon these characters (although it seems that many viewers went on to do just that), instead casting a wryly sympathetic eye on their foibles, their hesitancies, their squabbles and their brief moments of connection.

Archipelago is perhaps a little too proud of its art-film credentials (no music, no camera movement). And as in Unrelated at times the semi-improvised dialogue seems a strain on the performers; although Hogg’s approach is very different, a few moments here have the peculiarly unreal “reality” that John Cassavetes's work can have. But, as in Cassavetes’s films, other scenes are marvellously effective, and touch off very personal associations. The upside of Hogg’s studiously “subtle” approach is that Archipelago leaves the viewer plenty of interpretive space. So the lives of its rather opaque characters resonate and linger in the mind. Overall, then a beautiful and distinctive movie from a British filmmaker to watch.