| Rotterdam 2006 : part five (including Isaki Lacuesta's 'The Legend of Time') |
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 Klimt (producer's cut); Land of the Blind; The Legend of Time; The Living and the Dead; The Lonely Hearts Club Band in September (1982) KLIMT (producer's cut) [4/10] Though by any objective standard a misbegotten mess, the "producer's cut" of Klimt - running some 30 minutes shorter than the directors' own version - exerts a certain car-crash fascination. Supposedly a 'phantasmagoria' about the fin-de-siecle Viennese artist rather than a bio-pic, the film is neatly summed up by one of its own lines: "If it weren't amusing it would be laughable." The problems begin with the opening credits - despite this being a film about one of European art's most sensual stylists, the titles are printed in what is acknowledged as the most aesthetically vile of all fonts, the dreaded 'Comic Sans'. Connoisseurs of John Malkovich, however, will delight to see their hero operating at the apogee of pretentiousness as Gustav Klimt (1862-1918). The script (by Ruiz and Gilbert Adair) sets out its stall very early on: "False, true - does it really matter?" Anything goes, then, as Ruiz takes us into the mind of Klimt... or rather, a version of Klimt: much is made of the numerous 'layers' of reality which art negotiates. A pity that Ruiz's execution is so frustratingly unimaginative: drab visuals (including shoddy, pallid 'reproductions' of Klimt's work) and daft dialogue ("Calmness is what I like best from rabbits"... "You have a smell of horses about you") largely delivered in an offputtingly stiff, theatrical style and in a mannered form of mistranslated 'English'. Many of the lines are clearly intended to be self-referential in a post-modern way - or, as the film itself would put it, a style "beyond modernity..." indicative of "a certain evolution in the artistic process." And as someone tellingly remarks, "It's not a portrait, it's an allegory." This leaves Ruiz and Adair hostages to fortune, however, as many of their lines can be applied with less flattering results: "You can see he really worked - and that's all he's got to show for it?" or "A mere trifle - we cobbled it together last week." Not all of the 'cobbling' is altogether unpleasing, however: as with Ruiz's previous Malkovich collaboration Time Regained, Klimt makes a kind of sense if taken as a series of vaguely connected scenes, as any attempt to trace a narrative in either film is a complete waste of time. Klimt's pleasures are largely incidental: Stephen Dillane somehow manages to sound like a real person during his fleeting appearances as 'the Secretary' (ironic that, as he's emphatically a figment of Klimt's imagination). Nikolai Kinski, meanwhile, makes sufficient impact as Egon Schiele to suggest he may yet emulate his legendary father Klaus's long career in ropey horror movies. But it's Malkovich's antics as the eponymous foul-mouthed iconocast which are the main reason to endure Klimt's incoherent excesses (even though we seldom see the great man at work, the pacelessness of the enterprise mean it's indeed like 'watching paint dry'.) "It's a fucking wedding cake made of shit" he spits, in response to a mild query about some new building. "Busy at the Ministry of Culture? You do fuck all!", he anachronistically snarls. And by the end, you really can't tell whether Malkovich actually believes he's at the heart of some brave, challenging masterpiece, or if he knows he's landed himself inside an creatively bankrupt Europudding - just the kind of artistically D.O.A. affair which the 'real' Klimt would gleefully demolish with a sneering torrent of invective. LAND OF THE BLIND [1/10] Audiences keen to see a 'topical' cross between 1984 and Brazil - expressed via a kind of crass political "satire" which the Manic Street Preachers would reject as too sophomoric - my get a kick out of Land of the Blind. Everyone else is advised to steer well clear: this is a very strong early candidate to be the most unbearably awful film of 2006. For Donald Sutherland, it's an especially unfortunate choice of role, coming straight after An American Haunting. Though woefully inept, Haunting is merely a badly-made chiller: Land of the Blind thinks it's a powerful, intelligent statement about totalitarianism, and is executed with a particularly repellent self-satisfaction. Indeed, so few films can have been so smug, with so little cause. The plot is a rag-bag of themes and events opportunistically taken from history, literature and cinema, narrated from his prison-cell by the world-weary Joe (Ralph Fiennes). Joe has seen his (unnamed, fictional, seemingly trans-Atlantic) country suffer under tyrannical rule from right and left, and has 'served' both regimes. He was confidant of both an absolute monarch, King Maximilian (Tom Hollander) and of a communist-style president, John Thorne (Sutherland). And, as he ruefully relates, he played a crucial role in the bloody revolution which (oh-so-ironically) traded one oppressor for another. Though dealing with dead-serious subjects (including the entire painful history of the 20th century) writer-director Edwards opts for the jaunty spoofiness familiar from Channel 4's belaboured Comic Strip parodies. His screenplay is a sloppily-structured patchwork of smart-sounding, hackneyed one-liners ("I'll beat you like a redheaded stepchild!") and hand-me-down political aphorisms ("If you've got 'em by the balls, their hearts and minds will soon follow") - most of which ring hollow and fall resoundingly flat. Stilted and ropey from the very first scenes, Land of the Blind becomes steadily and increasingly more insufferable and pretentious - until by the end viewers may well feel so oppressed by Edwards' galumphing "wit" that they stage their own form of violent resistance. THE LEGEND OF TIME [6/10] An intriguing but slightly underwhelming blend of documentary and fiction, The Legend of Time is inspired by flamenco-music legend 'Camaron,' the title of whose classic 1979 album it respectfully borrows. According to flamenco-historian Juan Clemente, La leyenda del tiempo "represents a turning-point, one that by breaking up preconceived ideas changed our concept of flamenco music..." By choosing this title, Lacuesta has clearly (and perhaps unwisely) set himself a very high bar. Like Camaron, he's aiming to challenge 'preconceived ideas': The Legend of Time doesn't fit neatly into the standard documentary/fiction pigeonholes, and is unconventionally structured as two sections of unequal length. The 60-odd minute Voice of Isra follows teenager Israel Gomez Romero, growing up (fast) on Camaron's home island. Raised in a boisterous gypsy family, the lively, precocious Isra refuses to sing as he's still mourning his late, much-missed father. In a series of semi-staged scenes, we see him at school, at home and at play. He occasionally chats with middle-aged Japanese tuna-merchant Joji (Soichi Yukimune) - who also pops up in the film's second section, the 40-odd minute Voice of Makiko. Makiko Matsumura is a twentysomething Japanese woman who, fascinated by Camaron's music, impulsively moves to his birthplace so she might also learn 'Cante' singing. She absorbs the local atmosphere and even meets her idol's brother - but ultimately realises she's set herself too tough a task. Lacuesta's reach, likewise, exceeds his grasp: though a steady progression from his relatively 'straight' documentary debut Cravan vs Cravan (2002), The Legend of Time can't quite fill its unusual form with equally audacious content. The Isra segment is fresh, well-observed and compelling; the Makiko part, though not uninteresting, feels bolted on with the intention of expanding the picture to feature-film length. And there's something unsatisfying about the way Lacuesta implies only Isra can carry on Camaron's torch: in the increasingly-globalised 21st century, it seems harsh and old-fashioned to suggest that certain cultural barriers should not - perhaps even cannot - be crossed. THE LIVING AND THE DEAD [2/10] For its first 45 minutes, The Living and the Dead is a slowburning, thematically intriguing study of a dysfunctional aristocratic British family (bankrupt father, ailing mother, mentally-handicapped adult son) in their decaying ancestral pile. But when writer-director Rumley must propel the plot beyond this claustrophobic set-up, proceedings quickly degenerate into a gruesome, chaotic misfire. It's an especially unfortunate development, as The Living and the Dead affords veteran character-actor Roger Lloyd Pack (father of Emily Lloyd and best known for Only Fools and Horses, among countless British TV roles) a rare starring role in a made-for-cinema feature - albeit one whose home is really late-night BBC2 (if Rumley is very lucky). Lloyd Pack plays Donald, sixtyish 'lord of the manor' whose financial problems are compounded by the physical frailties of his bed-ridden wife Nancy (Kate Fahy) and the fact that his son James (Leo Bill) is effectively an 8-year-old schoolboy stuck in a man's body. James is desperately keen to impress his parents and, when father goes off to London on business, reckons he's perfectly capable of looking after 'mummy' on his own. Gruellingly grim consequences rapidly ensue... The Living and the Dead has the title, mood, and concomitants of a horror film - indeed, the combination of wheelchair-bound elderly woman, volatile/psychotic "carer", and telephone tantalisingly located at the foot of a staircase irresistibly recall What Ever Happened To Baby Jane? For quite a long while, however, Rumley's last-of-England ruminations suggest he's going to resist the grand guignol route. It's therefore all the more startling when he suddenly runs out of ideas, serving up a clodhopping mishmash of dreams, flashbacks and hallucinations. Characters and audience alike are set adrift in a confusing, clumsily-directed, gratuitously gory nightmare. The risible nadir arrives during one of James's amphetamine-crazed reveries: viewers who haven't already bailed out will witness the hapless Lloyd Pack spouting gibberish in outlandish makeup and costume, looking (and sounding) like an kabuki zombie-bride from outer space. And not in a good way. THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND IN SEPTEMBER [4?/10 - walkout after 60 mins] (1982) Rotterdam walkout report: The Lonely Hearts Club Band In September chronicles the internecine squabbles, romances and exploits of a biker gang in a coastal Japanese city. Despite being billed as one of Nagasaki's finest early achievements, it must count as one of the most uninvolving pictures ever made about motorcycle culture. Indeed, it gives the distinct impression that the director has little interest in or sympathy for the milieu - perhaps even that he intended us to feel nothing for these immature, sketchily-drawn characters. His relentlessly gimmicky direction, and the uniformly child-like nature of his female characters are also major turn-offs - and it's noticeable how little of the local atmosphere he manages to evoke. This viewer was happy to "saddle up" and "burn rubber" at the hour mark. Neil Young 13/14th February, 2005 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ KLIMT (producer's cut) [4/10] : Austria (Aut/Ger/UK/Fr) 2006 : Raouz RUIZ (1941) : 98m (timed) feature (35mm) seen at Cinerama, 30.1.06 (press show; section Vita Brevis; world premiere) LAND OF THE BLIND [1/10] : UK (UK/US) 2006 : Robert EDWARDS (1963) : 102m (timed) feature (35mm) seen at Cinerama, 30.1.06 (press show; section Tiger Awards Competition; world premiere) THE LEGEND OF TIME [6/10] : La leyenda del tiempo : Spain 2006 (copyright-dated 2005) : Isaki LACUESTA (1975) : 114m (timed) feature (35mm) seen at Cinerama, 29.1.06 (press show; section Tiger Awards Competition; world premiere) THE LIVING AND THE DEAD [2/10] : UK 2006 : Simon RUMLEY : 79m (timed) feature (35mm) seen at De Doelen, 27.1.06 (press show; section Sturm und Drang; world premiere) THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND IN SEPTEMBER : Kugatsu no jodan club band : Japan 1982 : NAGASAKI Shunichi (1956) : c104 feature (35mm) partially seen (walkout at 60 mins) at Cinerama, 2.2.05 (public show; section Film Maker in Focus - Nagasaki Shunichi) More details on these titles - and all others shown at the 2006 Rotterdam Film Festival - can be found at the IFFR official site ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A full alphabetical index of all films seen at IFFR 2006 can be found HERE  |
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