DC’s search for a cinematic tone continues to lurch between monochrome gravity and Technicolor frivolity, James Wan’s Aquaman firmly occupying the latter end of the spectrum. Although Mike has long been amused at how feeble is the concept of a superhero whose power is fish telepathy, the film has a good sense of humour about itself (even if some of the specific jokes are a little clunky) and hugely enjoyable freedom in its design, the giant seahorses a particular charm.
We discuss what’s to like and dislike about the film’s visual design and action, its message that violence is the least good solution to any problem, the welcome wisdom and calmness brought by Willem Dafoe and Dolph Lundgren (yes, really), and its adaptation of Arthurian legend and how it fits into a recent spate of films and television programmes fascinated with monarchy, bloodlines, divine rights and so on.
Jose is overall more reserved than Mike but still announces that he enjoyed himself, and the golden rule holds true: the key to happiness is low expectations.
The podcast can be listened to in the players above or on iTunes.
With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.
A long discussion on a film designed to be discussed.
José Arroyo and Michael Glass of Writing About Film
Grace of Monaco is the kind of movie where the star wears billowing ballgowns and races distraughtedly through endless palace corridors to leap into a huge bed and weep. Life is so very difficile; even when Maria Callas (Paz Vega), wearing a fabulous Jeanne Toussaint panther ring, is your friend and warbles beautifully at every occasion except when riding wild stallions; and even when all your jewels are stunning Cartier creations. Luckily there’s a ball that will resolve all conflict, international as well as marital. Nicole Kidman gets such enormous close-ups that her earrings end up out of focus. It’s pure trash, lovely to look at.
Grace of Monaco is the kind of movie where the star wears a billowing ballgown, races frantically through endless palace corridors and jumps into a huge bed …. to weep. Life is so very difficile; even when Maria Callas (Paz Vega) — wearing a fabulous Jeanne Toussaint panther ring — is your bestie, warbles beautifully,and goes horseback riding with you as a show of support. Luckily there’s a ball at the end so that jewels, gowns and seating arrangements can play their role in simultaneously resolving affairs of state and of the heart.
Nicole Kidman gets an endless amount of close-ups, some so extreme that her earrings are out of focus. The whole film is designed so we can see her be beautiful and suffer nobly while she learns to say goodbye to Hollywood and all the fun of the movie star life and hello to politics, duty, and sacrifice in her new role as Princess of Monaco. Callas’ drive for artistic expression above all else is contrasted with Grace’s willingness to sacrifice art for family and country. Lubtisch was already sending up this type of material a hundred years ago. One looks on the screen in a daze that might might have been caused by the diamonds display but is more accurately attributed to the drivel that is the story and its treatment.
Derek Jacobi is the fey and worldly aristocrat who teaches Grace protocol. Frank Langella is, I kid you not, Father Tuck, guardian of Grace’s soul. Tim Roth is Prince Rainier, the unappreciative husband; and first glowers at Grace but then ends up giving her warm glow due to her great diplomatic skills and even greater love for the nuclear family. Grace learns how to act serenity whilst dealing with palace intrigue and other people’s selfishness. At the end Grace is so good at her new role that she gets a standing ovation for her efforts; even old grouch De Gaulle is moved to stand. It’s pure trash, very demodée but lovely to look at.
The film does have an interesting exploration on the nature of acting and performance, in life and in art. Some scenes of Nicole Kidman rehearsing her lines and her expressions would rival De Niro’s ‘Are You Looking At Me’ scene in Taxi Driver if only the film were better. As it is, I can’t in good faith recommend it to anyone except lovers of fine jewellery. However, I must say that if you put aside all considerations of film art and are happy to look at glossy layouts in fashion magazines, a boxed set with Madonna’s W.E., the Naomi Watts Diana and this Grace of Monaco would make for one glamorous binge.
The poster for Stoker doesn’t tell you that it’s a Park Chan-Wook film; nor that Nicole Kidman’s in it. The film itself is super-stylish, rather creepy, and with snaps of violence that makes one yelp with queasiness. Mia Wasikowska is marvelous as the pervy schoolgirl. It’s written by the hottie from Prison Break, Wentworth Miller.
Zac Efron’s ripe and in heat. Nicole Kidman slouches around him like a depraved Barbie until she lazily consents to pluck him; but really she’s more interested in John Cusack: rough, ready and on death row for murder. Mathew McConaughey is Zac’s brother and is the kinkiest of the lot. Macy Gray’s does the noir voice-over in her thrilling Minnie Mouse speaking voice. The Paperboy is trashy, uneven and a bit long but its trawl through the underbelly of Florida’s swampland is great oversaturated fun.