'Up In The Air' did not look like my sort of film. Not at all. I always find George Clooney a little too generically charming to really ever convince me (I just don't trust someone who smiles that much), and I was underwhelmed by the concept, but it had been getting consistently good reviews, and my boyfriend's mother wanted to go see it for her birthday. So on a rainy January evening, we went to our local independent cinema to watch it.
I was surprised. 'Up in the Air' is on some level a pretty generic film, starting with some of the key tropes of the romantic comedy (the conflict-inducing concept, the meet-cute, the homebrew family wedding, the sweet moral message) but it is so much more. Ryan Bingham, a 'career transition counsellor' who flies around, firing people for a living, does a horrible job, but isn't a horrible person in need of a change, just a human being with his flaws more pronounced than most by his slavish adherence to the lifestyle that supports them. The woman he falls for, who is in her words '...yourself with a vagina', seems like his perfect girl, but paradoxically, he has no desire to settle down. There are zingy lines, tearful revelations, romantic cues, and a wonderful thread of genuine human sympathy that runs through 'Up in the Air', but the film is more complex even than the good romantic comedy/drama it pretends to be, reflecting on itself and flat-out refusing to give easy answers or cliched moments that make everything turn out all right. The ending is ambiguous, and though there are moments of joy, it never pretends that everyone is going to live happily ever after. The final montage is intercut with interviews Jason Reitner made with people who had been made redundant, giving genuine messages of grief and hope. This film isn't about tying everything up neatly in a bow - it's about opening new avenues, setting people on the right paths, which is what Clooney's character tries to do, despite his cynicism about his company's buzzword-filled talk about the career opportunities of unemployment.
Jason Reitner started writing the script in 2002, but it has been updated with startling efficacy. The hated figure of the 'termination agent' is one which has particular resonance in today's climate of constant fear of redundancy, and so the dilemma of the fired workers is especially poignant, with heartfelt portrayals by the actors. George Clooney as Ryan Bingham and Anna Kendrick as Natalie, a naive up-and-comer in the company, are brilliant: Clooney's charm makes an unpleasant character likeable and Kendrick gives a beautifully observed performance, allowing her to really show what she can do after her supporting role in 'Twilight'. In a "hey, it's that guy" moment, I recognised Vera Farmiga from the Kristin Kreuk and Miranda Richardson 'Snow White', though it is hardly the highlight of her career.
'Up in the Air' is a brilliant bit of film-making, a commentary on a lifestyle and a world that is becoming impossible, woven in with painfully personal stories, subversions of the romantic comedy genre and a thematic exploration of concepts of family, belonging and home. Somehow it never feels preachy or strained, despite its depth. There are flaws: I didn't like Vera Farmiga's character, though she acted well, and therefore found the scenes of her and Bingham's relationship to be a little uninteresting. Also, Bingham's sister's wedding is just on the edge of schmaltzy and is possibly the weakest section for me. It does undermine the conventions of the reluctant groom's pep talk cleverly, but sometimes I do wonder if it's a bit too clever for its own good, not letting us get close enough to the characters to really engage. The exception is Natalie. We see Natalie's flaws and pain so clearly that she easily becomes the most sympathetic character for me. The way they round off her story seems a little convenient, but we need to know that someone is happy, even if we aren't sure about Ryan Bingham.
Definitely worth a watch, even if this is not your usual fare. It doesn't talk down: this is a movie about adults for adults, and it never underestimates. In fact, perhaps it might even provide some warm fuzzy feelings as well as intellectually challenging you.
Friday, 29 January 2010
Thursday, 21 January 2010
'Daybreakers'
(I'll try and keep reviews non-spoilery, but I can't promise. There may be mild spoilerage, i.e. the spoiler that there is a twist but not what it is, and info that can be got from most film sites or magazines, or that I consider not particularly important.)
Summary: 'Daybreakers' is about a world where conventional vampirism is a disease that has spread through the human race, leaving only a small percentage of humans uninfected. Vampires rule the world and farm people, consuming blood as we consume wine and coffee. It's a brilliant concept in a culture where Twilight has neutered vampires to the point of blandness. If, like me, you're a fan of vampire texts of every kind, this is a welcome diversion from the standard form. And, for all its pretensions to schlocky horror (red text on black for the end credits...classy) it has some startlingly gorgeous moments, with subtle, minimalist filming intelligently accompanied by a nuanced orchestral score, suddenly interrupted by shocking and choppily filmed action scenes. That said, 'Daybreakers' for me feels like a missed opportunity. Large parts of it feel underdone, and there seems to be a dichotomy between the film it could have been and the film it has ended up: half exploration of an interesting idea, by turns delicate and intense, half Hollywood silliness and lazy tropes.
'Daybreakers' is eerily beautiful at the beginning. The credits sequence is a daylit city empty of people turning into a thriving metropolis by night. It provides slightly hamfisted exposition, but also sly humour (see the ad for vampire toothpaste). In places, the filming is arty and lingering, setting up beautiful shots that interact wonderfully with the orchestral soundtrack. Let's just say it doesn't live up to its promise.
I've heard 'Daybreakers' described as the 'anti-Twilight'. Quite honestly, the only thing they have in common is vampires, so comparing anything else about them is pointless. Let's deal with the 'our vampires are different' school of thought. Fangs/drink blood? Check. Infect via bite? Check. Burn up in sunlight? Double check. Turn into bats? Not exactly. These are actually some of the least 'different' vampires I've seen, and yet they manage to be far more interesting. They even incorporate the whole Nosferatu look as vampires go mad from drinking non-human blood, allowing the in-your-face horror element. In fact, there were some decent chills and even outright scares in the devolution of the vampires: the use of sound and visuals was wonderful, too much CGI was avoided, and it showed that even the civilised, intelligent heroes have the potential to become truly monstrous.
Essentially, these are vampires in the White Wolf sense: creatures of the folklorish night who've come into the new century. They are corporate, stylish and value human life less than we value cows and chickens. We follow vampire hematologist Edward Dalton (a dead-eyed Ethan Hawke) as he desperately tries to synthesise a blood substitute that doesn't explode vampires (which is hilarious) or turn them into mutated monsters. The blood supply is dwindling as the human population has been battery-farmed to the point of extinction, and things are starting to turn nasty. Edward has a generically heroic soft-spot for humans whereas his brother hunts down rogue humans to be put in the farms. Then there is an idyllic community of escaped humans, a possible cure for vampirism, and hunting parties trying to track down the rogue vampire and his human friends. The film is brilliant at the beginning, grows baggy once the humans enter, and then lurches along at an uneven pace, doling out awesome, dull and unpleasantly visceral in almost equal measures. The ending shares this awkwardness, with a nonsensical big reveal and bizarrely shifting tone, from replusion to ironic hilarity and back. It felt cut short, as though they had no idea how to end it, but knew they didn't want everything to work out fine.
As has been pointed out on TV Tropes, there are massive logical inconsistencies the viewers have to accept for the plot to work, such as the excessive infection spread and the complete lack of forsight in controlling blood production. The script rather lacks in places, and the time frame is really confused, with some sections that make no sense, possibly because of last-minute changes or edits. The actors are fine, though not sparkling: Ethan Hawke is passable, but a bit boring as Edward Dalton, which is also true of Claudia Karvan playing a human with seemingly no personality, and Willem Defoe is possibly one of the better actors but his role gives him a limited amount to play with. The strongest presences are Sam Neill as uber-corporate vamp Charles Bromley and Isabel Lucas as his renegade daughter Alison, whose stories are given a decent amount of screentime, and for me were far more interesting.
Summary: 'Daybreakers' is about a world where conventional vampirism is a disease that has spread through the human race, leaving only a small percentage of humans uninfected. Vampires rule the world and farm people, consuming blood as we consume wine and coffee. It's a brilliant concept in a culture where Twilight has neutered vampires to the point of blandness. If, like me, you're a fan of vampire texts of every kind, this is a welcome diversion from the standard form. And, for all its pretensions to schlocky horror (red text on black for the end credits...classy) it has some startlingly gorgeous moments, with subtle, minimalist filming intelligently accompanied by a nuanced orchestral score, suddenly interrupted by shocking and choppily filmed action scenes. That said, 'Daybreakers' for me feels like a missed opportunity. Large parts of it feel underdone, and there seems to be a dichotomy between the film it could have been and the film it has ended up: half exploration of an interesting idea, by turns delicate and intense, half Hollywood silliness and lazy tropes.
'Daybreakers' is eerily beautiful at the beginning. The credits sequence is a daylit city empty of people turning into a thriving metropolis by night. It provides slightly hamfisted exposition, but also sly humour (see the ad for vampire toothpaste). In places, the filming is arty and lingering, setting up beautiful shots that interact wonderfully with the orchestral soundtrack. Let's just say it doesn't live up to its promise.
I've heard 'Daybreakers' described as the 'anti-Twilight'. Quite honestly, the only thing they have in common is vampires, so comparing anything else about them is pointless. Let's deal with the 'our vampires are different' school of thought. Fangs/drink blood? Check. Infect via bite? Check. Burn up in sunlight? Double check. Turn into bats? Not exactly. These are actually some of the least 'different' vampires I've seen, and yet they manage to be far more interesting. They even incorporate the whole Nosferatu look as vampires go mad from drinking non-human blood, allowing the in-your-face horror element. In fact, there were some decent chills and even outright scares in the devolution of the vampires: the use of sound and visuals was wonderful, too much CGI was avoided, and it showed that even the civilised, intelligent heroes have the potential to become truly monstrous.
Essentially, these are vampires in the White Wolf sense: creatures of the folklorish night who've come into the new century. They are corporate, stylish and value human life less than we value cows and chickens. We follow vampire hematologist Edward Dalton (a dead-eyed Ethan Hawke) as he desperately tries to synthesise a blood substitute that doesn't explode vampires (which is hilarious) or turn them into mutated monsters. The blood supply is dwindling as the human population has been battery-farmed to the point of extinction, and things are starting to turn nasty. Edward has a generically heroic soft-spot for humans whereas his brother hunts down rogue humans to be put in the farms. Then there is an idyllic community of escaped humans, a possible cure for vampirism, and hunting parties trying to track down the rogue vampire and his human friends. The film is brilliant at the beginning, grows baggy once the humans enter, and then lurches along at an uneven pace, doling out awesome, dull and unpleasantly visceral in almost equal measures. The ending shares this awkwardness, with a nonsensical big reveal and bizarrely shifting tone, from replusion to ironic hilarity and back. It felt cut short, as though they had no idea how to end it, but knew they didn't want everything to work out fine.
As has been pointed out on TV Tropes, there are massive logical inconsistencies the viewers have to accept for the plot to work, such as the excessive infection spread and the complete lack of forsight in controlling blood production. The script rather lacks in places, and the time frame is really confused, with some sections that make no sense, possibly because of last-minute changes or edits. The actors are fine, though not sparkling: Ethan Hawke is passable, but a bit boring as Edward Dalton, which is also true of Claudia Karvan playing a human with seemingly no personality, and Willem Defoe is possibly one of the better actors but his role gives him a limited amount to play with. The strongest presences are Sam Neill as uber-corporate vamp Charles Bromley and Isabel Lucas as his renegade daughter Alison, whose stories are given a decent amount of screentime, and for me were far more interesting.
Second star to the right and straight on till morning
(Yes, I know that Disney added the 'star', but I like it, so there.)
Let us establish the current state of affairs. Singers need a pitch note, runners need a strong ready stance, divers need something to dive off...of...erm, these analogies lack a little. But my point stands.
I'm an avid reader, watcher of films and player of games. I also flatter myself that I have some ability to analyse as I enjoy. This is a good starting point for reviewing for fun.
Confession time: I have never been published. Hell, I've never written more than 60,000 words on a novel, though that was a finished NaNo. I've never made something ready for publication by editing it to within an inch of its life. I've submitted one hastily-written piece as part of a competition for a genre I did not get on with, received one rejection for which I am now extremely grateful (it was an awful piece of writing - for a start I *cringe* submitted the first draft rather than the fourth or fifth). I have done National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) two years on the run and won both times, but have not gone back and edited either novel. The closest I've got to finishing a more planned and inspired WIP is halfway (approx. 50,000 words).
The thing I value most is really good constructive criticism that hits the nail on the head. I am rapidly coming to the realisation that I have a hell of a long way to go before becoming a really good writer, and I'd like to think that all writers are still learning after their fiftieth book. Apparently people ask writers where they get their ideas a lot, but as so many writers have answered time and time again, the ideas are the easy part.
I was heartbroken when, at around the age of seven or eight, I wrote a short story about otters, printed it out and gave it to my teacher, expecting to be hailed as a fantastic writer. What I got was "It's pretty good, and it'll be even better after a few drafts." What did she mean? Surely you just wrote an outpouring of inspiration onto the page and then it became a book? All I heard were the criticisms, and it coloured how I took and gave criticism. Sure, it hurt, but it was possibly the best lesson I could have had as a budding writer, and a lot easier to take as a child than as an adult.
I'm not saying we should curb children's inspiration by any means. I suspect it would have put most people off, and I would rather have hundreds of kids who can't take criticism than one put off writing forever, but it was precisely what I needed at the time. So now I value my ability to take reasoned criticism and even though it hurts, I still try to take it. Not that I'll take 'Your writing is rubbish and you don't have a hope in hell' to heart, but it's difficult to see the insides of your head and heart ripped apart as though they were worthless, so I take the good bits and treasure them, and the bad bits are a learning process.
Let us establish the current state of affairs. Singers need a pitch note, runners need a strong ready stance, divers need something to dive off...of...erm, these analogies lack a little. But my point stands.
I'm an avid reader, watcher of films and player of games. I also flatter myself that I have some ability to analyse as I enjoy. This is a good starting point for reviewing for fun.
Confession time: I have never been published. Hell, I've never written more than 60,000 words on a novel, though that was a finished NaNo. I've never made something ready for publication by editing it to within an inch of its life. I've submitted one hastily-written piece as part of a competition for a genre I did not get on with, received one rejection for which I am now extremely grateful (it was an awful piece of writing - for a start I *cringe* submitted the first draft rather than the fourth or fifth). I have done National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) two years on the run and won both times, but have not gone back and edited either novel. The closest I've got to finishing a more planned and inspired WIP is halfway (approx. 50,000 words).
The thing I value most is really good constructive criticism that hits the nail on the head. I am rapidly coming to the realisation that I have a hell of a long way to go before becoming a really good writer, and I'd like to think that all writers are still learning after their fiftieth book. Apparently people ask writers where they get their ideas a lot, but as so many writers have answered time and time again, the ideas are the easy part.
I was heartbroken when, at around the age of seven or eight, I wrote a short story about otters, printed it out and gave it to my teacher, expecting to be hailed as a fantastic writer. What I got was "It's pretty good, and it'll be even better after a few drafts." What did she mean? Surely you just wrote an outpouring of inspiration onto the page and then it became a book? All I heard were the criticisms, and it coloured how I took and gave criticism. Sure, it hurt, but it was possibly the best lesson I could have had as a budding writer, and a lot easier to take as a child than as an adult.
I'm not saying we should curb children's inspiration by any means. I suspect it would have put most people off, and I would rather have hundreds of kids who can't take criticism than one put off writing forever, but it was precisely what I needed at the time. So now I value my ability to take reasoned criticism and even though it hurts, I still try to take it. Not that I'll take 'Your writing is rubbish and you don't have a hope in hell' to heart, but it's difficult to see the insides of your head and heart ripped apart as though they were worthless, so I take the good bits and treasure them, and the bad bits are a learning process.
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