Category Archives: Uncategorized

Isolation in ONE HOUR PHOTO (Mark Romanek, 2002) by Madeleine Lear

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This video essay aims to examine how isolation is portrayed visually within Mark Romanek’s 2002 film One Hour Photo. The film is a psychological thriller starring Robin Williams as Sy Parrish, a photo technician who has dedicated over 20 years of his life to developing film in a supermarket. Sy is a desperately lonely, quiet soul who wishes for nothing more than to feel loved and wanted, leading him to form a perturbing obsession with one of his customers, Nina Yorkin (Connie Nielsen), and her seemingly perfect family. Rather than wanting to replace anyone in this family, Sy simply wants to be included. However, on finding out about Nina’s husband’s affair, Sy takes it upon himself to punish Will Yorkin (Michael Vartan). From here, the film takes a darker turn as we follow Sy’s slow decent into turmoil as he goes to extreme lengths to attempt to avenge his shattered fantasy and lost childhood innocence.

One Hour Photo delves into the intricate depths of the human mind, exploring themes of obsession, voyeurism and particularly isolation, prompting viewers to confront the darkness inside us and the people we encounter daily. However, Williams’ portrayal of Sy, while still evoking a sense of disturbance, elicits a strong sympathy for him. Williams’ heart-wrenching performance carefully builds tension as it peels back the layers of Sy’s fragile psyche, proving Sy isn’t a psychotic, evil caricature but rather a broken human being with no real identity, tragically struggling with no source of help and therefore finding reason to live through the lives of others.

Romanek, being a very visual director, and Jeff Cronenweth, known for his cinematography on David Fincher films including Fight Club (1999) and Gone Girl (2014), skilfully extends Sy’s sense of isolation into the film’s visuals, namely the colour palette, use of frame-in-frame, and spatial composition.

This video essay begins with an exploration of my own footage, utilising it to illuminate how a few changes can make a scene evolve from a warm, welcoming place into an inhospitable, empty space. Initially, I shot the subject in a medium long shot, highlighting her surrounding while staying in close proximity to her, thereby establishing a physical and emotional connection. I directed the subject to stretch out across the sofa, taking up the space around her, showing her comfort in her surroundings. I then adjusted the highlights to emphasise the scene’s yellows while making the midtones a copper orange. This enabled me to introduce a warmth to the shot, further enhancing the cosiness of the space. Comparatively, in the second clip, I filmed the subject in a wide shot, almost losing her in the expansive negative space around her. She is made even more insignificant within the space due to the fact she is sitting upright, rigidly in one spot on the sofa, making her appear uneasy within the room. Additionally, I darkened the highlights while tinting the scene a green tone, resulting in the cream of the walls becoming a murky cyan. Coupled with the fact the subject was framed within the window, I was able to communicate visually a looming sense of emotional entrapment.

Although there was limited movement in both shots, the second seems even more motionless, almost as if frozen in time. Therefore, it is evident these changes can help one perceive the character as lonely because rather than finding a solace in her solitude, she appears to find her physical loneliness to be emotionally confining. This is emblematic of the fact that Sy is never free of his inner turmoil and so never seems to feel comfortable in any of his surroundings.

From the sterile, blinding white light of the SavMart to his own home, Sy is made to appear as if he doesn’t belong. In order to create this impression, Romanek and Cronenweth created living paintings, framing many scenes in a tableu vivant style, depicting events as living pictures where the camera remains motionless matching Sy’s stationary blocking, trapping Sy within the frame. Romanek and Cronenweth seemingly draw inspiration from director Roy Anderson and artist Edward Hopper, both of whom explore what it means to be human by placing an emphasis on solitude.

Hopper’s signature style influenced Andersson’s distinct despondent, minimalistic aesthetic. When stating what drew him to Hopper’s paintings, Andersson claimed “It’s the loneliness. His paintings are beautiful and sad at the same time”, making key reference to Hopper’s The Office at Night (1940) painting (Figure 1).[1] The painting is of a female secretary standing at a filing cabinet, her body turned to face a man sat at his desk, working in the office. While there are indications of movement, the picture itself is frozen in time, with the pair looking as if they’re about to start a conversation which never happens. Similarly, in One Hour Photo in the scenes where Sy is alone, notably in his apartment, despite not being a frozen frame the scene appears frozen in time. This is most apparent in the scene in which Sy is shown standing alone in his kitchen, motionless, holding a glass of water (Figure 2). Sy’s pale, insipid appearance camouflages him into the muted colours of his prison cell of an apartment, insinuating a coldness to his home reflecting his detachment from life and a longing for connection. I propose that this scene and the film as a whole also draw on Song Hwee Lim’s conventions of ‘slow cinema’, dragging out the scene’s duration to heighten viewers’ awareness of time passing.[2] By forcing viewers to endure the scene over a long period, they’re compelled to contemplate Sy’s inner thoughts and feelings. So much of the film is watching, thinking, waiting- we realise Sy is trapped not only in his world but also in his past from which he cannot heal alone.

 

Figure 1- Edward Hopper’s ‘The Office at Night‘ painting.

Figure 2- Sy in One Hour Photo standing alone in the kitchen of his apartment, barely moving and insipid against the colours of the room.

 

I intended to underline this idea that Sy feels ill at ease, prominently in his own company, by displaying how this is visually depicted within the film’s colour palette. The colour spectrum (for which I determined the prominent colour from each scene and laid them out in chronological order) reveals a contrasting palette consisting of brown and white. When looking at the scenes each colour reflected it became apparent that the warm tones, comprised of browns, oranges and yellows, mainly reflected the Yorkins and their world, evoking feelings of comfort and unity, while Sy and the environments he inhabits were left to be reflected by the distinctly cooler colours, such as white, grey and green, most prominently white, signalling an emotional detachment and alienation, thereby spotlighting his loneliness. White is a cold and depressing colour, representing Sy as this numb, blank slate secluded from the world. Sy hides within his colour scheme, representing how he is trapped in his own world and by his past. By shifting between these contrasting colour schemes, Romanek highlights the dynamic tension between emotional closeness and distance, using a desaturated, muted palette to visually reinforce Sy’s isolation in relation to the world around him.

Notably, in some scenes the colour palette appears to be discordant with the rest of the film. The most prominent colour deviances to Sy’s colour palette are red, green and blue. These three colours make up the acronym RGB which is a digital colour model used to create colours on screen. By combining red, green and blue light in their purest forms white light is made, which is the colour coded to Sy. Therefore, even the brighter colours overlaying Sy contribute to portraying his isolation as they work together to remind us of his white colour motif.

Throughout the film there is also a motif of photographs which is extended into the cinematography. Sy is unable to engage with the dynamic, unpredictable nature of real relationships and life three-dimensionally. Therefore, to cope, he reduces them to flat, two-dimensional snapshots. Many scenes mirror Sy’s emotional paralysis, meticulously composed to mimic photos by playing with negative space, focal points, symmetry, and frames. By organising scenes around Sy like a static photograph, Sy becomes trapped within the frame, stripping away the spontaneity and vibrancy of human connection. Although he is often positioned central to the frame, a position commonly reserved for the protagonist, he could not be more visually insignificant. Surrounded by copious empty negative space, Sy is visually and physically separated from the warmth of others.

I selected various stills from the film in which Sy seems to blend into his surroundings and then digitally manipulated the images by erasing Sy entirely. As a result, this created an uncanny reality depicting empty sets inhabited by Sy’s ghostly presence. This resembled the fact that Sy hides within the safety of the frame, camouflaging into his surroundings, reflecting his detachment from life. Sy is in a stalemate within the world, moving purposelessly through life like the walking dead. Within the starkness of his surroundings, just as in the narrative of his own life, Sy seemingly takes up no space, obscuring him so far within the visuals that he might as well be non-existent.

 

The video essay may also be een here:

 

 

Bibliography

Hopper, Edward, The Office at Night, oil paint, canvas, 56.4 cm (22.2 in) × 63.8 cm (25.1 in), Walker Art Center; Minneapolis, Minnesota, 1940.

Lim, Song Hwee, ‘Temporal Aesthetics of Drifting: Tsai Ming-Liang and a Cinema of Slowness’ in De Luca, Tiago and Jorge, Nuno Barradas (eds.) Slow Cinema (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2015), pp. 87-98.

Ratner, Megan, ‘The “Trivialist Cinema” of Roy Andersson: An Interview’, Film Quarterly, 69:1 (2015), pp. 36-44.

 

Filmography

Fight Club, Dir. David Fincher, Prod. Fox 2000 Pictures, USA, 1999. Main Cast: Brad Pitt (Tyler Durden), Edward Norton (The Narrator), Helena Bonham Carter (Marla Singer).

Gone Girl, Dir. David Fincher, Prod. Regency Enterprises, USA, 2014. Main Cast: Rosamund Pike (Amy Dunne), Ben Affleck (Nicholas Dunne).

One Hour Photo, Dir. Mark Romanek, Prod. Catch 23 Entertainment, USA, 2002. Main Cast: Robin Williams (Sy Parish), Connie Nielsen (Nina Yorkin), Michael Vartan (Will Yorkin), Dylan Smith (Jake Yorkin).

 

Watch the audiovisual essay here: One Hour Photo Video Essay.mp4

 

[1] Andersson quoted in Ratner, Megan, ‘The “Trivialist Cinema” of Roy Andersson: An Interview’, Film Quarterly, 69:1, (2015), p.42.

[2] Lim, Song Hwee, ‘Temporal Aesthetics of Drifting: Tsai Ming-Liang and a Cinema of Slowness’ in De Luca, Tiago and Jorge, Nuno Barradas (eds.) Slow Cinema (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2015).

Eavesdropping at the Movies: 442 – Sinners

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Sinners, written and directed by Ryan Coogler, is a horror musical set in 1930s Mississippi, shot in part on IMAX 70mm film, starring Michael B. Jordan as a pair of identical twins who return to their hometown for a new start, only to encounter vampires. It’s as ambitious as that sounds and full of ideas and culturally specific nuance, and José loves it. Mike doesn’t.

We discuss how the music draws on several influences, not just from the blues of the era but also from Irish folk and hip-hop; the getting-the-band-back-together feel of the opening, in which the twins bring their influence and riches to bear on the creation of the juke joint; the visual design, simultaneously confident and careless; the crowd-pleasing fantasy of an anti-racist Rambo; and the theme of vampirism – what it means and how it’s used.

Listen on the players beloe, Apple Podcasts, Audible, Spotify, or YouTube Music.

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

Eavesdropping at the Movies: In Conversation at the University of Warwick

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We were delighted to be invited to the School of Creative Arts, Performance and Visual Culture at the  University of Warwick  for a conversation with James MacDowell about Eavesdropping at the Movies: how it began, why we do it, what we get out of it, how we make it. We hope you enjoy what was an enormously satisfying hour and a bit in which we had the privilege to discuss our practice of film criticism with an audience keen to ask questions. Thank you to James for chairing, to Julie Lobalzo Wright for inviting us and to all those who attended and asked such interesting questions.

 

Listen on the players below, Apple Podcasts, Audible, Spotify, or YouTube Music.

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

Thunderbolts (Jake Schreier, 2025)

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I went to the movies last night and the best thing I saw was the trailer for the new Superman. There was a trailer for the Fantastic Four film as well, designed in a retro futuristic Jetson-y style that looks like it might have been more fun in someone’s head than on the screen. Also Pedro Pascal as Mr. Fantastic? Jim Carrey, yes. Pedro Pascal? We’ll see. The film  I actually went to see – Thunderbolts — was a bit of a bore. The best thing about it was Florence Pugh as the depressive killer, Yelena. She’s short, a bit stocky, physically no one’s idea of an action heroine. But she creates an appealing and believable character –much of it vocally — and is convincing in motion. I liked Wyatt Russell as a callow second string Captain America also. But the film….It’s getting great reviews but I think I’m getting to that point where watching people wearing koo-koo costumes destroy the world whilst claiming to save it as corrupt politicians pull the strings is….Well we’ve seen it all before, better The best visual bit was when Sentry/Void turned black, like an animated shadow with white eyes, as the death in the city is also visualised with people leaving black marks where they once stood as the city itself turns to black.

José Arroyo

Rich and Famous (George Cukor, 1981)

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Went to the BFI to see RICH AND FAMOUS, on 35mm, in a print that seemed untouched but for time: not a scratch but all slightly turned to red. I saw it when it came out and it spoke to me. I showed it to students ten years later and they thought it the worst film of all time. Pauline Kael famously wrote, ‘it isn’t camp exactly, it’s more like a homosexual fantasy’ and was attacked for outing George Cukor, then over 80. This would be his last film. The film outs itself really. It IS a homosexual fantasy. Every shot of Matt Lattanzi and Hart Bochner tell you so; not to speak of the ending, where the two old friends sit by the fire, drinking champagne, content with each other and with their friendship having superseded love affairs and family; evoking a whole gay structure of feeling of its particular time. When one posits this next to the beginning, with the opening line, ‘Merry, what are you doing in the closet’? Well…. But to Dave and I it was also super camp and we screeched – as quietly as we could – at every line. Candice Bergen is very good and very funny. This, after her comic turn in STARTING OVER (Alan J. Pakula, 1989)is really what made possible her subsequent career in comedy. There are some shots in the film where her beauty is startling. Jaqueline Bisset produced. A remake of Old Acquaintance (|Vincent Sherman, 1943) with Bette Davis and Miriam Hopkins where Bette famously says, as only she could, ‘There are times in a woman’s life where the only thing that will help is a glass of champagne’. The film is better than legend has it, more interesting than I remembered, and if not quite good was certainly hugely enjoyable. Meg Ryan appears in an early role as Bergen’s daughter; and there are many famous people as background extras in the party scenes (Christopher Isherwood, Gavin Lambert, Ray Bradbury, etc.)

 

José Arroyo

José Arroyo In Conversation with Diego Cepeda on OUTSKIRTS

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I recently discovered the existence of a new and exciting film magazine: OUTSKIRTS, a yearly independent print magazine of between 160-190 pages of original essays, interviews, reviews, translations, and dossiers on the past and present of cinema.

OUTSKIRTS is in English, though mostly written by people for whom English is a second language or who don’t speak English at all. Translation, in multiple senses, is an integral part of the magazine.  It’s a handsome physical object, originating in the Locarno Critics Academy but speaking a different film culture: off-centre, from the margins or the periphery. In this podcast, I talk to one of the editors, Diego Cepeda (the others are Nathan Latoré, Sofie Cato Maas, Raymond Shik and Christopher Small), with filmmaker/critic Felix Cordero Bello contributing illuminating contexts and asides.

Near the beginning of the podcast Diego cites a poem by Farid Ud-din Attar,

‘The birds had departed towards a distant luminosity that attracted them.

Those who did not perish on the way would understand upon arrival that they had been transformed into that light that now attracted others’.

OUTSKIRTS is a magazine that in itself  embodies a romance of movies, film culture, film history, woven through with friendship. It aims to put at the centre marginalised filmmakers and film cultures; and asks its readers to slow down, look back, look deeply, and think. The launch of each issue is accompanied by live events, often including readings and screenings. Diego cites Abraham Polonsky at the end, ‘The only fights worth fighting are for lost causes’.

Speaking to Diego and Felix, in English,  a second-language for them, a whole cinema culture comes alive. They cite LA VIDA UTIL and Lucía Salas as an inspiration: a spirit of sharing knowledge, friendship and dialogue, enthusiasm for cinema, a similar way of thinking about film history. Diego and Felix both also write for SIMULACRO magazine edited by Julia Scrive-Loyer (https://www.simulacromag.com/), participate in its weekly cine-club and are connected to the Chavón School of Film and Design, itself associated with Parsons, with Diego as one of its key lecturers. ‘How can we approach the history of images and sounds from a place that maybe didn’t have (a film industry) whilst creating tools for understanding those elements that did exist (newsreels, home movies, a rich culture of filmgoing)?’, asks Diego.

The conversation ranges from the origins of the magazine, its aims (to defend cinema from this place, that is on the margins), it’s focus (to shine a light on the overlooked), how each issues tries to create a thread of thought. We detour through a brief account of a history of cinema in the Dominican Republic, where the conversation took place. All this and much more can be listened to in the podcast below:

 

The podcast may also be listened to on: Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

The new issue comes out in June and can be purchased at: https://outskirtsmag.com/

José Arroyo

 

 

La Venganza (Juan Antonio Bardem, Spain, 1958

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Saw LA VENGANZA on the plane back home yesterday and was bowled over by the mise-en-scène. I’ve never thought of Juan Antonio Bardem, Javier’s uncle, as a great visual stylist and I have to think on the film some more. There were some scenes – maybe the most daring to film in 1957, the reason the film eventually suffered censorship issues – that seem crude and by the ‘communist party’ handbook and have the effect of taking you out of this most absorbing and otherwise fine-tuned melodrama; these are the ‘political’ scenes, the ones about labour struggles, oppression by large land-owners and the need for unionisation. But there is something about the co-ordination of the composition of the figures in and against that beautiful but harsh Manchegan landscape, the precision of the camera movement, and the use of close-ups, often and unusually of extras, that seem great and thrilled me. The story is a noirish one: a man (Jorge Mistral), falsely accused of murder,  returns to his village where his sister Andrea (Carmen Sevilla, then ‘la novia de Espańa’/ Spain’s sweetheart) eggs him on to kill El Torcido (Raf Vallone) whom she holds responsible. The siblings join a gang of reapers headed by El Torcido to be sure he is the one responsible for the framework before killing him off and restoring family honour. Trouble ensues when Andrea and El Torcido fall in love. The structure is interspersed with flamenco songs, the cante jondo variant, that work within the narrative to contribute to the distinctive tone of sadness, oppression, pain and longing that the film communicates so well. It seems one of those films that are great in spite of not every element working. I could kick myself for not watching it sooner and for some reason it’s made me want to rewatch, Marcel Carné’s THÉRÈSE RAQUIN, with Vallone opposite an extraordinary Simoe Signoret. The film was filmed as set in the time it was filmed – of personal interest to me as my Dad worked as a reaper for hire in those years —  but shown as being set in the 30s to minimise it being understood as a critique of the regime. It won the critics prize at Cannes and was nominated for an Academy Award for BEST FOREIGN FILM.

 

José Arroyo

 

 

La Bachata del Biónico (Yoel Morales, Dominican Repubic, 2024)

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I saw La Bachata del Biónico with a friend last night in a commercial theatre in Santo Domingo, with an audience that laughed out loud throughout. It’s a brilliantly funny film about l’amour fou as lived by a crackhead. El bionico (Manuel Raposo) is crazy in love with La Flaca (Ana Minier), also an addict but now getting clean in a detox centre. The film is shot as a mockumentary in which a film crew follows El Bionico and his sidekick (Calvita) as they try to score a flat worthy of La Flaca so they could set up a home and get married. Their addiction, her ex, and well….life…all get in the way. The tone is up-beat, the pace is raggaeton-y, the world depicted is gritty, with surreal flights that recall magical realism. The film’s achievement is that it’s funny AND touching, that it depicts the pleasures of the drugs, the friendships and community that go along with the addiction, without once minimising its horrors and its sometimes deadly consequences. It’s a real achievement from director Yoel Morales. He has a great feel for the sights and sounds of a particular place in a particular time and conveys it so that it feels a structure of feeling come to life, wonderful to bask in and substantial enough to think upon. Comedy is like the Bermuda Triangle of discussions of national cinemas, they somehow disappear or are minimised in the final accounting. Yet this film brings a culture to life more vividly and with at least as much depth as so called serious films. Hugely enjoyable. I hope it gets picked up for distribution abroad.

José Arroyo

José Arroyo in Conversation with Paul Cuff on Robert Eggers’ NOSFERATU (2024)

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Such a pleasure to talk to Paul Cuff about Robert Egger’s version of NOSFERATU. He knows so much that the conversation unfurls into a discussion of the various other versions, Murnau’s original (1922), Herzog’s version (1979), David Lee Fisher’s version (2023), and onto the films of Guy Maddin, Pablo Berger’s BLANCA NIEVES (2012), various versions of THE STUDENT OF PRAGUE and even THE ARTIST (Michel Hazanavicius, 2011), which Paul loathes. We were entertained by, enjoyed — with reservations — the rich visual world of Egger’s version, the thick and dense sound, and we praise Nicholas Hoult as the emotional anchor of the film. But Paul articulates his uncertainty about whether the film was a parody of itself or the genre or Nosferatu in its various incarnations. The film seems to be drawing on Murnau, Herzog, Caspar Friedrich’s paintings. But it seems to create a world in which God ostensibly exists but no one seems to believe in the ideology that would sustain this. Paul notes with interest on how Eggers credits the screenplay of the original Nosferatu but not Murnau, the director and we discuss the significance of this while highlighting how Nosferatu was itself a rip-off of Bram Stoker’s work. We also speculate on the significance of the titles of the most prominent version (Nosferatu, A Symphony of Horror (Murnau) and the German title of Herzog’s version,Nosferatu, Phantom of the Night.) What all versions have in common is that they’re all about sex and death, all about sex and the maiden; all versions have Nosferatu as a  sexual figure as well as a figure of death and pestilence,.How does Egger’s version sit on the shoulder of previous versions and what does it add to them? We discuss our love of the performances of Max Schrek,Klaus Kinski and much else in the podcast below:

 

The podcast may also be listened to on: Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

The podcast from Eavesdropping at The Movies on Nosferatu Paul refers to may be listened to here:

Pal has written on the afterlife of Nosferatu HERE.

José Arroyo

 

Michael Betancourt, ‘Judy at Carnegie Hall’

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I was unaware of this series, the album equivalent of the BFI classic series, and Manuel Betancourt’s Book on JUDY AT CARNEGIE HALL is so good, I plan to try out more. Betancourt covers the so-called ‘greatest night in showbusiness’ from many perspectives, the audience, the songs, the performance, the performer, the recording, the liveness. And one gets a rich understanding of Garland’s career to that point, the movies, her significance, how much of the career draws on nostalgia for a different time, race, androgyny. It ends with an analysis of Rufus Wainright’s homage, bringing all of these elements together through comparing the performances whilst exploring Garland’s relationship to queer cultural histories, exploring why Garland is always positioned as a gay icon whose significance lies in a previous generation of gay culture (BOYS IN THE BAND figures prominently in this part of the analysis) in the face of objective evidence that later generations ‘get’ and ‘use’ her in ways not too different.

I love Betancourt’s book and I learned a lot from it (the double album was no. 1 for 13 weeks and charted for 73) but, as I am often feeling now in relation to Garland, there is an over-emphasis on her gay audience. Isn’t what her Betsy Booth meant to young girls or what her radio recordings might have meant to young soldiers or what her persona throughout the 40s when she was a top box office attraction and her personal problems still unknown of any interest? It should be. The majority of those  boys and girls (and parents and grandparents, and grandchildren) would not have been gay. How that minority that were would have shared both a mainstream understanding, a subcultural one, and the tensions between them.  I of course welcome a study of what she meant and continues to mean to queer subcultures but I’d like to see that in relation to, in play with, what she meant to a more broadly popular audience for such a long time, and this is less a criticism of Betancourt than it is a criticism of the over-emphasis of a particular positioning of Garland as a cultural figure.

José Arroyo

Thinking Aloud About Film: L’innocente/ The Innocent (Luchino Visconti, 1976)

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We discuss Visconti’s final film, currently available to see through the BFI streaming service, in conjunction with the Visconti season recently held at the Southbank, and in a lush and lovely print. Richard had to convince me to podcast on this and I’m glad we did. We both think it a great film, without being anywhere near Visconti’s greatest, a measure of the director’s extraordinary achievements. Here we discuss it in relation to D’Annunzzio’s original novel (The Intruder is the literal translation of the novel’s Italian title); the lushness of décor and costuming, which sometimes seem a John Singer Sargent painting come to life; how the mise-en-scène vividly and complexly conveys character feeling, often without dialogue, and with such skill it can make a viewer swoony with admiration; we talk of how Alain Delon and Romy Schneider were originally cast and admire the performances of Giancarlo Giannini, Jennifer O’Neill, Laura Antonelli and Rina Morelli. It was also lovely to (barely) recognise Massimo Girotti, so beautiful in OSSESSIONE, as one of Giannini’s rivals for Jennifer O’Neill’s favours. We discuss the auction scene,and the fencing scene between husband lover in some detail; how the film reminds us of the 19th century novel in its narrative sweep, melodramatic accents and its dramatization of complex ideas (faith vs science, moral actions in a world without God, marriage vs free love, equality between the sexes, etc.). A world of feeling and desire, fuelled by melodrama; a beautiful film slightly marred by its ending. We discuss all of this and more here:

 

 

The podcast may also be listened to here:

The podcast may also be listened to on: Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

The Auction Scene

Eye-ing up his rival:

Pregnant but not by him

Desire

Watching

Extraordinary Capacity to Adapt to Reality

There’s not a jury in the world that could try me:

 

 

John Singer Sargent

 

Images

Eavesdropping at the Movies: 441 – Ne Zha 2

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Over the last couple of months, Chinese children’s fantasy Ne Zha 2 has quickly, and arguably quietly, become the fifth-highest-grossing film of all time, and the first animated film to gross over $2 billion. It’s hard to keep up with the records it’s been breaking – but can we keep up with the plot?

No is the answer, but we readily accept that younger minds, and minds more in tune with Ne Zha 2‘s cultural context and mythological basis, won’t feel as overwhelmed as we did. It did make us feel old, but this audiovisual whirlwind is beautiful and coherent – writer-director Jiaozi exhibits great control over the most energetic of action scenes, and has an eye for striking, colourful imagery. We discuss how closely some of the film’s visual design and messaging might reflect the particular culture from which it comes, or whether it’s so different from American cinema after all, and ask why this and last year’s Inside Out 2 have been able to make so much money (the Pixar film grossing $1.7 billion and becoming the then-eighth-highest-grossing film of all time) with such little response from critics.

Listen on the players below, Apple Podcasts, Audible, Spotify, or YouTube Music.

Listen to our podcast on the first Ne Zha here.

 

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

Eavesdropping at the Movies: 440 – Mickey 17

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After a little time off, we’re back at the cinema to see Bong Joon Ho’s sci-fi comedy, Mickey 17, in which Robert Pattinson dies. Repeatedly. Leaving Earth on a spaceship seeking to colonise an icy planet, Pattinson’s Mickey is an “Expendable”: a disposable worker given lethal assignments, regenerated by a biological printer, and sent out to die again. But when the 17th version of Mickey fails to die at the mandibles of the local fauna, he finds his way back to the colony, only to find that he’s already been reprinted as Mickey 18 – and clone coexistence is strictly prohibited.

We’re disappointed by what looked like a marvellously energetic, knockabout comedy and social satire from the trailer. Even considering the film’s very broad tone, there’s too little in the characterisation to really buy in to, a severe lack of pace, and an ending that betrays it. Nonetheless, as failures go, it’s an interesting one, playing with plenty of ideas, and featuring more than enough good jokes to support it. Our recommendation of Mickey 17 is far from whole-hearted, but you ought to give it a whirl.

Listen on the players below, Apple Podcasts, Audible, Spotify, or YouTube Music.

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (Chantal Akerman, 1975)

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The BFI’s screenings of JEANNE DIELMAN, 23 QUAI DU COMMERCE, 1080 BRUXELLES were all sold out. Luckily, we were both able to see it on a big screen elsewhere. In this podcast we discuss why this is a film to see on a big screen, how it remains a radical film, how the first scene sets a context, how Jeanne Dielman lives in a pimped world where the very same money she gets from men she gives to men. We discuss how the bare bones of the story could have been done as melodrama or noir and the significance of rendering it as ‘slow cinema’, including all that’s been left out of cinema previously (the various kinds of women’s work). We admire the three-day structure as well as the formal rigour and precision which creates Dielman’s world and Akerman’s point-of-view on it; how the film puts into play elements that are never rendered explicit (is the son gay?). We also discuss Delphine Seyrig, the muse insoumise, in the light of her art-house and activist careers (the program for the Queen Sofia exhibition on her work and career is in the blogpost); the film itself in the context of Second Wave Feminism; how the film remains radical in that it is simultaneously a depiction of what Tate brothers bros think women should be, a refutation of those ideas,  and women’s frustration/ explosion/ revenge in response. A film that is almost half a century old and feels continuously relevant. We also discuss the 2022 Sight and Sound poll where the film was voted the ‘Best Film of All Time’ ….and much more in the podcast below:

The podcast may also be listened to here:

The podcast may also be listened to on: Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

The Defiant Muses programme and José’s observations on it may be seen here:

New publications:

blu-ray boxed set:

Thinking Aloud About Film: Shanghai Blues (Tsui Hark, 1984)

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Tsui Hark’s SHANGHAI BLUES (1984), starring Kenny Bee, Sylvia Chang and Sally Yeh, is currently playing on MUBI. A commercial romantic comedy with musical numbers galore and lots of screwball and slapstick, the film is easy to like. We discuss the pleasures in the performers, the interwar Shanghai setting, the beauty of its look and design, the inventiveness of its shot design and composition. We note how rare it is to see a look designed purely to please instead of to evoke, convey and signify in contemporary cinema. Might this also be a limitation? The film feels like a quickly executed trifle. It’s very broad and the execution feels a bit clunky. We were nonetheless both charmed by it though Richard rated it a bit higher than I did. Where we intersect and where we diverge is the subject of the podcast.

The podcast may be listened to here:

The podcast may also be listened to here:

The podcast may also be listened to on: Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

José Arroyo

THINKING ALOUD ABOUT FILM: Bellissima (Luchino Visconti, 1951)

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We didn’t manage to get to much of the recent Luchino Visconti retrospective at BFI South Bank but we somehow wanted to mark the moment, and how better than a discussion of BELLISSIMA (1951), particularly through the great Eureka/ Masters of Cinema blu-ray. We discuss its themes of obsession, mother love, fantasy, cinema, the effects of media on private and collective aspirations; how it’s a film that announces its fluency from the opening shots; its relation to neo-realism through on-location shooting and the use of non-professional actors; Anna Magnani’s tour de force performance, drawing particular attention to the scene where she gets the neighbours involved in the beating by her husband; we note how it’s an unusual film for Visconti in that it’s central role is a woman’s role, a vehicle for Magnani; we discuss the elements of camp, something not usually associated with Visconti; a very entertaining film of great depth; a critique of cinema by one of its greatest exponents; a film one can’t imagine bettered; a film worth seeing.

The podcast may be listened to here:

 

The podcast may also be listened to on: Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

 

Camp:

Magnani’s tour de force:

https://notesonfilm1.com/2020/05/02/a-quick-note-on-revisiting-viscontis-the-leopard/

 

Jose has written on the following Visconti films:

 

Conversation Piece

The Leopard

Le notte bianchi/ White Nights

Senso

La Terra Trema

José Arroyo in Conversation with Dr. Ben Lamb on THE WIRE

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Wonderful to have an opportunity to discuss THE WIRE (David Simon, showrunner: 2002-2008) — a show which got mixed reviews and diminishing audiences but nonetheless survived to become a cultural touchstone — with Dr. Ben Lamb. Ben is the author of You’re Nicked: Investigating British Television Police Series, for Manchester University Press as well as the producer of award winning films such as Rewinding the Welfare State: A Social History of the North East on Film and In the Veins: Coalming Communities In his new book on the series – THE WIRE — Ben Lamb discusses the history of the production, how and why it was made, and  he also provides vital context to each season to better understand what happened as well as to enhance the appreciation of the show. We talk on all of this as well as how it was groundbreaking, why its influence persists, how it laid the groundwork for the rise of a whole generation of black stars, how it can be seen to have predicted the rise of populism….and much more.

The podcast may be listened to here:

 

 

 

José Arroyo

Eavesdropping at the Movies: 439 – The Brutalist

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We visit BFI Southbank for a 70mm screening of The Brutalist, Brady Corbet’s epic period drama. It’s a super-sized film – 215 minutes, not including the intermission – and it deserves a super-sized podcast, for which we’re joined, as we occasionally are, by Mike’s brother, Stephen, who’s already seen the film once. It’s an extraordinarily complex, subtle and absorbing film that draws on countless themes and parts of history in telling its story of a Hungarian Holocaust survivor and architect who escapes to America and finds a wealthy client enamoured with him.

We dig in to the film’s themes with breathless enthusiasm, and talk sex, racism, the immigrant experience, long takes, rape, capitalism, doing things for effect, art, aspiration, jealousy, the value of 70mm, and much more. José describes The Brutalist as his film of the year; Mike ponders whether he likes it more than the Robbie Williams monkey movie.

Listen on the players below, Apple Podcasts, Audible, Spotify, or YouTube Music.

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

Eavesdropping at the Movies: 437 – Babygirl

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Nicole Kidman gives a compelling, vulnerable performance in Babygirl, as a woman for whom sexual satisfaction requires her to relinquish the power she otherwise projects throughout her life, and who begins an affair with a much younger man she finds herself unable to resist. Unfortunately, that’s the only significant thing to recommend about the film, which we find superficial, badly thought out, and most crucially of all for Mike, nowhere near steamy enough. It’s good fun to discuss, though, and gives us opportunity to reminisce about sneaking into films we weren’t allowed to see when we were kids. Stick around to learn José’s Looney Tunes technique for fooling the ticket guy.

Listen on the players below, Apple Podcasts, Audible, Spotify, or YouTube Music.

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

 

Eavesdropping at the Movies: 436 – Maria

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The third film in Pablo Larraín’s trilogy of iconic women, following 2016’s Jackie and 2021’s Spencer, Maria shows us the final week of the life of opera singer Maria Callas, who at the age of 53 is experiencing delusions, hallucinations, and the fear that her once-perfect singing voice has abandoned her. Mike isn’t familiar with Maria Callas; José is (despite worrying before we started recording that he wouldn’t have much to say when expected to explain who she is).

No familiarity with her is required, however, to enjoy the film. Larraín’s elegant direction, Steven Knight’s intelligent screenplay, and Angelina Jolie’s extraordinary, subtle performance combine beautifully to explore Maria’s ego, fears, and passion. Maria’s delusions, in which choirs fill town squares, orchestras back her in her apartment, and a fascinated journalist follows her around Paris chronicling her memories, are evident throughout the film… everywhere but in song. She knows all too well that her voice is leaving her, she hopes for and needs its return, and ultimately, the film renders her struggle with it a fight to hold on to life itself. It’s sympathetic, understandable, and beautiful.

Maria is the best film of Larraín’s impressive body of work, and features perhaps the best performance of Jolie’s. See it.

(We also discuss Robbie Williams, because Mike saw Better Man, the Robbie Williams monkey movie, and is desperate to talk about it.)

Listen on the players below, Apple Podcasts, Audible, Spotify, or YouTube Music.

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.