Peterloo

Power is never given, it is only taken. The marchers at Saint Peter’s Field, Manchester learnt this at their cost. They thought that their demands for universal suffrage were fair and justified and two hundred years of history have proven them to be right. They thought that a mass movement of non-violent protest would change society the way they wanted it; and that exact technique worked for Gandhi in India comparatively shortly after their seminal attempt failed. In short, like most left wing types, they thought that people were essentially good, and that when presented with undeniable logic, the powers-that-were, would simply accede to superior logic and loosen their grip on power and share it with the masses of their own volition. Sadly those who planned the march to St. Peter’s Field in Manchester, severely overestimated the ruling classes’ altruism and empathy with the working class. The outcome was tragic, as it frequently is.

The film starts slowly. Grotty looking peasant apes walk around outdoors in the British north country allowing the audience to try to come to terms with how awful the weather can be in those parts. Just when you’ve come to the conclusion that they must be intellectually sub-normal because they’re wandering around outdoors in such filthy weather to little obvious purpose, the director adroitly turns your conclusions on their head. The damp unhappy looking figures go inside and begin arguing very intelligently – about politics. As they argue (which one member of my party found profoundly boring) they sketch in the power structure in which they live, and their place it. One realises very quickly that they are completely justified in being dissatisfied and that they are proposing to create their model society very much like the one we have now. This, of course, engenders the hope that their idealism will succeed and that the emancipation we probably take for granted now will be achieved by peaceful means.

At the same time, the film’s name, faint recollection of a secondary school history class that never quite managed to become an outright nap, the marcher’s chant of “liberty or death” – all go to fuel a certain feeling of cynicism that the two sides differences can be peaceably resolved. Added to that, are the memory of any number of pro-democracy protests being violently “dispersed” on the TV news. At the same time while more ringing political tub-thumping filled the screen, I found myself wibbling “But Gandhi pulled it off just about a hundred years later” and the marchers kept marching and chanting, and the parasites of the ruling class kept discussing them, and the tension mounts.

I’ve made great efforts to write this review so that it is as spoiler free as possible, and I’m certainly not about to spoil the ending now. On St Peter’s Field Manchester the direction of Britain balanced on a knife edge; by extension the evolution of all the pink bits on the map, balanced too. “Peterloo” was the moment of praxis and I heartily recommend seeing the film so that you can set youself to considering the quite profound issues that it dredges up.

My companion found it deathly boring and irritating; I found it invigorating and thought-provoking. Most oddly it occurred to me that history seems to be repeating itself- even now in the twenty-first century we have our own version of George the third in the form of Donald Trump, slumped on the throne “like a sack of potatoes”, face a worrying shade of red from the effort of attempting to piss purple; issuing weird largely incomprehensible ejaculations of kingly power that accomplish little but worrying those who happen to listen, while at the same time, across the globe, the poor seem to be being trodden on by those who inherited their power, usually from unspeakably nasty parents. In fact, the wonderful thing about the film “Peterloo” is not that it makes the past seem similar to the present, but that it reminds the viewer that the events of St Peter’s Field in 1819m seem to be happening over and over again around the world at an increasingly frenetic pace, faster even than the news cycle, each nightmare played out at cartoon speed on the screens of a billion views who do their best to ignore the enormity of the panorama presented to them.
“Peterloo” is a exceptionally good and fascinating film; at the very least it is another masterwork from the master Mike Leigh.

(C) Alex Rieneck 2019

Film Review

This film tells the story of a fatherless young Indian boy who becomes seized by a deep desire to take his mother and himself together from India to Paris, France; to find the boy’s missing father. While mum seems less than ecstatic at the prospect (After all she would be travelling a great distance to find the man who ran out on her) her son’s enthusiasm is unstoppable; he becomes a “Fakir”-(pron:”faker”) or Indian street magician to raise money to fund his travel plans. Fakirs are part con artists, part three card monte dealers with a bit of film flam man thrown in to ease the cash-flow. In very little time Our hero has a wad of cash the size of half a brick, and a very impressed mother in almost no time at all the pair of them are in Paris and the son has discovered that the place is called the city of love for a very good reason, as he falls in love with a beautiful local. In time the Fakir’s father is found by something that, even in the bright light of day, looks real magic andeven though the Fakir never knows the answer, only we, the audience do, in an ending so delicately balanced it has kept me happy in the weeks since I saw the film
Delicate, light ineffably French films don’t get much better than this- very highly recommended. (C) Alex Rieneck 2019

Films about atrocities have to follow certain formulas and tick various boxes, while hopefully delivering entertainment in what amounts to a kind of societal scab-picking. The victims must be humanised, while being represented as innocent as possible. At the same time the perpetrators must have their motivations made as clear as possible – though understanding should not eclipse the evil of their actions. There should be heroism on the side of the underdog victims, balancing the perception of power between “good” and ”evil”. This, it is commonly thought, will generate suspense. It does.

Such films must stay slavishly close to the facts, since any potential audience will have been bombarded repetitively with the true story, as it happened and will be primed to a high level of ‘nit-pickerdom’ before the film version has even started. It was certainly that way with me. And the Taj Hotel in Mumbai – a week of almost 24 hour coverage at the time it happened – gave the whole film a strange sense of resonant deja vu.

“Hotel Mumbai” takes all these “rules” of atrocity films and sticks to them so assiduously that I felt that the film was ticking check boxes as it went along. This is no criticism, after all anyone seeing a film on this subject must already be something of a cynic and will (even if only subconsciously) expect it to follow the “rules” and appear unbiased (since the potential Muslim) viewing audience is vast and best not alienated, as events surrounding “Charli Hebdoe” show all too clearly.
Despite all the constraints loaded onto “HotelMumbai” before it even starts, it is a remarkably successful film. The whole audience does know the ending before the film starts; But still looks like its been hit by a bus as it exits the theatre. Throughout the last third of the film I could hear my companion grinding her teeth because it made her “so angry.” Make no mistake, “Hotel Mumbai” is a good film, if not a great one- just don’t expect it all to end with a big Indian wedding- or a “Dance off” with the Terrorists; But you already knew it wasn’t that kind of film, didn’t you?
Review (c) Alex Rieneck 2019 All Rights Reserved*

Mary, Queen of Scots

I was almost loathe to see this film because when I thought about I I realised that I’d forgotten just about everything I’d ever learnt on the subject . I mean I knew it hinged on idiotic doctrinal hair splitting between Catholics and Ptotestants and that Mary came to a sticky end, but that was about it. Oh, that and I had a a razor -sharp recollection of a Monty Python sketch called “The Death of Mary Queen of Scots.” Which was no help at all, except to make me laugh all over again decades after I’d seen it.

Anyway I decided that my buggered up memory would still help me spot things like a Chinese Elizabeth and thatI was probably ahead on knowledge over the average punter anyway, and being an arrogant git, check the facts after I’d seen the film. So that’s what I did. And, largely innocent of the story- line, I sat back and let the film be a film and entertain me, and lo and behold – it did! The script was something of a wonder, it took a plethora of complex characters, clarified them, set them against each other and let the nastiness flow. As you’d expect the peacetime concept of Christianity “saviour Jesus meek and mild” gets short shrift when thrown to a gang of powered- crazed sociopathic religious zealots. Before long there is a civil war in England and everybody is slaughtering everybody else for the most completely idiotic of reasons (as is usual with wars.)
Mary, the Catholic, loses and is taken captive and locked up in some nasty black hole. Over time, in a series of very well acted and conceived scenes, Elizabeth comes to show a grudging respect, if not affection for Mary since under the various bullshit constraints of religion, politics and social mores, they actually have a lot in common. Sadly however, over the period of Mary’s incarceration the country has become more politically and religiously extreme. Attempting to appeal to their Protestant monarch, certain unpleasant element simply go barking mad. Crazy rumours of imaginary Catholic plots abound, and the conspiracy theorists line up to point the finger at Mary who, they theorise must be behind all the plots, presumably pulling all the strings by mobile phone from her dungeon. I made that last bit up by the way, partially to show how little the human race has changed since 1590-or-so. So Elizabeth, get her steely-eyed look on and tells Mary that although
“she doesn’t want to” the rumours are proving destabilising to the kingdom since the longer Mary stays alive the weaker Elizabeth looks as a monarch.
And we can’t have that- so Mary has a date with the headsman. For which she wears a lovely red dress so the blood won’t show, And the psychopathic Elizabeth goes on to be the Empress Elizabeth I who establishes the British Empire across the Globe and shifts the economy from an agrarian one with occasional forays into profitable wars on the continent, to one wholly founded on piracy, war and pillage One which, I might add, Britain is still living on the proceeds of So finally, “Mary Queen of Scots is a fine film, a good solid entertainment for a generation raised on the complexities of “Game of Thrones” which is itself closely modelled on (albeit earlier) British history, and the lack of dragons is more than made up for by the verisimilitude of the plotting. I found the ending to be far more emotionally confronting than I was expecting, even though by that time my memory had caught up and I was expecting it. I wanted to cry, but I was too emotionally wiped out by it. I left the theatre mumbling the [epilog of Kubrick’s “Barry Lyndon]” to myself for the arid comfort it gives.

“It was in the time of (X)
That the aforesaid personages lived and quarrelled,
Good or Bad,Handsome or ugly rich or poor
They are all equal now.”

I liked this film. I’m looking forward to seeing it again.

ERRATA:
Since seeing “Mary Queen of Scots” my historical research on the subject, while it has existed, has been rather rubbish; But to give me my due, I am at least admitting that, rather than just grasping at a (catholic) God-given opportunity to bullshit.
I am assured that Mary and Elizabeth never met, their communication being constrained to a fairly long series of letters (which have presumably survived and which, at a guess, form the backbone of a very impressive script. ( one which has a grasp of the language of the time reminiscent of the work ofEthan Coen)

Points For (I’m overtired )
+The film does not have Katherine Hepburn or Lucille Ball playing anybody
+You actually care about the characters, something far beyond the reach of high- school history teachers

One way and another I had been somewhat looking forward to this newest picture by Clint Eastwood; by which I mean that over the course of my life I believe I’ve seen everything he’s ever done, either as an actor or a director, which happens to b to be a serious shitload of an investment of time, and in some cases, of effort. Over time Eastwood has morphed from being a blue eyed, heart throb into well, a scrawny, cynical embittered old fucker. This is not a criticism, far from it, in these times, growing a skin like a rhinoceros and an attitude that regards phlegmatic as hopelessly innocent, is basically the only way to stay even halfway sane and functional. God knows I’ve kept pace with Mr Eastwood, on *all*fronts and *88*? No wonder the man has so little patience for fools.

The story of theMule is actually very simple, and it’s a pity there were no valuable prizes to be won for guessing what was going to happen next, since I had good success at this activity. I had the entire “Earl’s wife” sub-plot pretty much worked out in about ten seconds with the film catching up about twenty minutes later. As fun goes, I felt vindicated but I much prefer to be surprised. As it stands “The Mule” is a conventional film in the classic meaning of the word – it is a film that could easily have been made in 1974. It is shot and edited delightfully slowly like the classics of the time (Not a few of them directed by a much younger Clint Eastwood).

“The Mule.” is a rather stolid unadventurous potboiler that in the old days would have been made for TV. That said, the film has some genuine thrills, a couple of nasty moments and some suspense. It never failed to be at least somewhat interesting. I was rather sad that the political subtext of the film – “Mexican drug cartels bringing criminality into the god-fearing heartland of the United States and spreading their poison through our decent values”, could almost come from a script written by one of Donald Trump’s handlers. In truth I was surprised that the film didn’t take a moment to spruik a wall, or should I say, *the* wall? But to give him his due as a director, while Eastwood always wins over the squint eyed right-wing heartlanders, he always been canny enough to not go so far that he completely pisses off the intellectual elites. In truth I actually enjoyed the film albeit in a slightly superior left wing elite kind of way. I liked the way that the beginning and ends of the film were bookends for the whole frenetic schmozzle of the middle. But then placing the whole story onto the great wheel of karma is the kind of thing that *would* win over a left- leaning educated, tosspot like myself, and such is the talent of Eastwood, it certainly would not alienate any midwesterners either.

Down the track, I wouldn’t be surprised if the bloody thing won some kind of award.

(C) 2019, Alex Rieneck

If you have any sort of a watch on the art film circuit, you will have read all about “Cold War” months ago when it started snaffling up awards at film festivals just about everywhere that matters

I know one guy who saw it at the Sydney Film Festival months ago and who hasn’t shut up about it since. So, if you’re one of those people you can give this review a miss and get on with your busy important life. Because I doubt you’l find much here to enrich your life and make your nostril hairs grow down into your mouth and entangle themselves in your teeth

Then again you may not be one of the anointed ones of the cinema world, and you may not have a hankering after hirsute teeth and in your boring normality simply be wondering whether a black-and-white-love story, where no-one gets shot and there are no car chases is worth going to the movies to see on the big screen. I can answer that question simply and vehemently: 

Fuck Yes!

The story of “Cold War is actually pretty simple, but after you’ve seen it, you find that it’s rather like an Origami unicorn- Really goddam beautiful in the way its put together out of such a deceptively simple basic ingredients.

This Polish guy meets this Polish girl in Poland in 1949, four years after the holocaust mincing machne of World War2 Ininished with Poland, leaving a country where literally everyone had a massive case af Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. When this guy meets the girl he is busy assembling a Folkdance and song group for the powers that be out of whatever people he can find. The girl turns up in a job lot from what looks to be a prison, there is talk that ahe has killed her husband, but in Poland after the war nobody cares much. Pretty much everybody has killed somebody and the collective urge to forget is strong. In any event the sheer energy exhibited by these two lights up the screen with a passion I have rarely, if ever seen before. Between these two, I don’t think I have ever seen two actors on screen more convincingly in love. From the first moment they lay eyes on eachother the feelings manifest the same solidity a a blacksmith’s anvil in a telephone box. It is truly a wonderful thing of beauty to behold. The years pass. They remain in love in the most delightfully intelligently cultured European way. This is not some shallow childish love of immature testimonials. This is the first time I have seen real profound love represented on screen. Due to events beyond their control they are split up for a few years. They meet by chance in a street in Paris. In the Hiatus one of them has married someone else. The other doesn’t care. Idea such as “sexual infidelity are too infantile to stand up to the passion they feel for each other. If you’ve never experienced such a love in your life, I feel sorry for you. “Cold War will make you wish that such a relationshipwould come your way, and, more importantly that you be strong enough to cope with it when it did. Seriously, over the years I’ve seen lots of love stories, from “Romeo and Juliet” to “ The Greatest Showman.” From “ A new Leaf” to “The Piano Teacher” and no matter how good And all these films are definitely that, they don’t encapsulate the same incendiary craziness that has all too infrequently consumed my life , ultimately leaving me a guttered wreck. I’ll say this for it though, as bleak as the ending of “Cold War” is; at least its a happy bleak.- Unreservedly recommended

(C) Alex Rieneck 2019

“

One way and the other I’d seen the trailer for ”Widows” twice before it actually opened and I was very interested. I didn’t care that Steve McQueen was the director of the much lauded “Twelve Years a Slave” because I hadn’t actually much liked it, considering that its positive reception had a lot more to do with political correctness than actual film-making excellence. (A stridently pro black anti-slavery film coming out at the crest of the “Black Lives Matter” movement was pretty assured of a good reception).

By contrast “Widows” promised a story that didn’t seem obviously top-heavy in political correctness (all the main characters *are* women, it’s true) but did promise both an adult storyline *and* Jacki Weaver – a woman who I’ve adored and respected since she was taking her first tiny steps into the industry, way back before I had been taught the sin of Onan, and since then she’s somehow managed to stay older than me, totally gorgeous, get even more talented, win an Academy Award and entice me into the rain to pay $16 to see a film…

Three women find themselves saddled with a very large debt to a gang boss. They can’t go to the police, they can’t get a loan from a bank.They are quite against the idea of dying. They resolve to steal the money they need.

Not to spoil the obvious – this being America, to do a robbery they need guns, and various other shit. They set about preparations. I found this section of the film felt rushed as if the direction/editing people felt worried that audience attention would wander during the prosaic setup. As it was, mine did anyway. As a side effect of speeding up the preparations the nitty gritty of the intended plan fell by the wayside. As a side effect of this, when the shit hit the fan I had barely a clue as to what the fuck was going on. When that happens it’s completely impossible to care about any of the characters either. When this happened, the film basically became the kind of visual noise where my eyes glazed over and my brain ossified. In all truth, I think most of the population of the western world rarely leave this state because it is actually rather pleasant. I’m a bit of a bastard though, I don’t like it when a film goes from being quite intelligent to being like “Iron Man”.

I can’t highly recommend “Widows” but it wasn’t that bad a film to sit through.

© Alex Rieneck, 2018

(c) Alex Rieneck 2018

Alan Rickman, a script by the Coen Brothers. There it was on iTunes, I didn’t have to wait till Christmas for the annual Coen brother’s film. I was entranced, I started watching it straight away. The credit “written by Joel and Ethan Coen” filled me with great joy; I believe them to be the best film writers in the world, now, and possibly ever. I am a hopeless slavish fan.They have taught me much. Then “Directed by Philip Hoffman.”- Shit. Who was Philip Hoffman? My memory told me (wrongly) that he’d directed “Bad Santa” (he didn’t). In fact he was the director of “The Last Station” a film about the death of Leo Tolstoy which I had liked a lot; Still why hadn’t the Coens directed their own material? Then again George Clooney had directed a Coen Brothers script in “Suburbicon and done a bloody good job, making a fine film, so I slapped my inner naysayer down and settled back with as open a mind as possible.

Colin Firth works as art curator for Alan Rickman an unpleasant borderline  psycho media magnate who buys “good taste” by the yard, with a fat chequebook. Colin Firth has a pretty free hand. He picks it, his boss pays, pretends he knows shit from shoe polish and goes on treating his art curator like shoe polish. Colin Firth hatches a “foolproof” plan to rip his boss off, partly as revenge, partly out of greed. He enlists a good friend, an art forger, to knock up a copy of a Monet his boss wants, mostly to spite a rival collector.

Colin Firth manufactures a fake provenance to go with the fake painting and “badda bing!” They’ll sell his boss the worthless fake for eleven million dollars and vanish under a rock leaving his tasteless boss none the wiser. Its a great plan, in theory and right off the bat the film shows the plan functioning perfectly.Then we’re are shown the plan coming in contact with “reality” and before you know it, Colin Firth is standing terrified on a narrow ledge outside the Savoy Hotel in London; five floors above a busy street – without any pants. After mastering every style of screenplay from just about every genre – the Coens had turned their talents to the best in British door-slamming farce – and completely blitzed it. I found myself having so much fun I was almost escorted from my own living room. I’ve read some quite churlish reviews of this film by people who take themselves far too seriously and who feel British farce to be “beneath” them – people who, I suspect probably lap up Ace Ventura Pet Detective when they think no-one is looking.

Myself, I’ll laugh at anything I think is funny, From Hitler giving a speech to Donald Trump trying to walk, the world is a rich tapestry of potential humour – if you look at it right. I found “Gambit” too be a remarkably successful film, exceptionally funny and based around a script at least as solid as the classic “Noises Off”. The Coen Brothers are truly wonderful enough to almost make up for Donald Trump.