I've never made a secret of my eclecticism: I'm happy to discuss my appreciation of Sterne and Wittgenstein, along with my addiction to Neighbours.
One of my guiltier pulp pleasures is horror movies. I'm not talking about the new crop of sickening gorno, nor about the B-grade schlock of most 80s slashers. But, much like sci-fi, horror done right is a genre that confronts humanity with an unflattering self-reflection: as we peer into horror's glass, we recoil at the sight of Caliban leering back.
2002's 28 Days Later was a very intelligent piece of horror. It was part-Prometheus, part-Triffids, and a thorough thrill. (I'd recommend watching it on DVD, then getting the full experience of the sequel in the cinema!)
While folks may once have shivered at the sight of powerful brain-sucking zombies lumbering largo into view, Garland and Boyle delivered creatures far more likely to terrify the cynical young: humans infected with the Rage virus — hyperkinetic, acid-fuelled, with a nasty tendency to projectile-vomit blood and, er, bite. Hard.
Despite a complete change of personnel, 28 Weeks Later is a fitting follow-up. Since 2002, there has been quite adequate horror in the real world: the SARS virus threatened (threatens?) not just an isolated island, but the whole globe; the West has been plunged deeper into an unending conflict with Bush's unseen 'Enemy'.
And American hubris is neatly needled in this film: the US military is sent to clean up the ruins of Britain, but merely manages to live up to its real-world track-record. Happily, this also gives occasion for the addition of some serious hardware, not to mention what is surely the best helicopter-related splatter yet committed to celluloid.
Some of the acting is not quite on par with that of its lower-budget forebear, but the tension still runs high, and we're treated to the same frenetic editing, rich make-up, and thumping, screaming, squelching soundtrack. More haunting images of an abandoned London are still moving, despite losing some of the wow-factor of the first film.
Most satisfyingly, the sequel also shies away from the saccharine or melodramatic coda that sours most American horror. The stage is set: we shall see if the concept can be stretched to 28 Months Later.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The Science of Sleep
It irks me that I don't have time to review this properly, but let me say that this is hands-down my favourite film of the year! (Of course, Transformers isn't out yet.)
This is Michel Gondry's follow-up feature to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind — one of my favs of 2004 (despite the fact that it became cool to say so). Gondry also wrote the film, so it's no surprise that he has created for himself in a series of dream sequences the perfect opportunity to showcase his trippy imagination, which he brings to life through stop-motion and other animation techniques. (The French title is La science des rêves — the science of dreams.) The art in the film is so much a magical presence that the art department is rightly billed in the credits immediately after the cast.
The plot that tenuously holds it all together is a love story between Stéphane (Gael García Bernal) and Stéphanie (Charlotte Gainsbourg), both of whom I'd be happy to watch for a couple of hours, even if they were just mowing their lawn. Gainsbourg in particular does a believable, affecting job with the unusual subject-matter, and with a character about whom we're not quite sure how to feel. Indeed, the ambiguity of the characterization of both protagonists plays with our sympathies, and sets up what I think is simply a perfect ending.
It's a film that demands multiple viewings for a full appreciation, and I shall be anxious to watch it again when it comes out on DVD (unless I can get to the cinema again between now and Thursday). I beg you, though, watch it now, before it disappears from cinemas all together, and before it gains a cult following as the next hip thing!
This is Michel Gondry's follow-up feature to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind — one of my favs of 2004 (despite the fact that it became cool to say so). Gondry also wrote the film, so it's no surprise that he has created for himself in a series of dream sequences the perfect opportunity to showcase his trippy imagination, which he brings to life through stop-motion and other animation techniques. (The French title is La science des rêves — the science of dreams.) The art in the film is so much a magical presence that the art department is rightly billed in the credits immediately after the cast.
The plot that tenuously holds it all together is a love story between Stéphane (Gael García Bernal) and Stéphanie (Charlotte Gainsbourg), both of whom I'd be happy to watch for a couple of hours, even if they were just mowing their lawn. Gainsbourg in particular does a believable, affecting job with the unusual subject-matter, and with a character about whom we're not quite sure how to feel. Indeed, the ambiguity of the characterization of both protagonists plays with our sympathies, and sets up what I think is simply a perfect ending.
It's a film that demands multiple viewings for a full appreciation, and I shall be anxious to watch it again when it comes out on DVD (unless I can get to the cinema again between now and Thursday). I beg you, though, watch it now, before it disappears from cinemas all together, and before it gains a cult following as the next hip thing!
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