“The moment you catch feelings is the moment you catch a bullet.”

Image Credit: Kaysha & Flickr

As usual, I am late to the party, but I went to see Baby Driver (2017) at the Backyard Cinema “Miami Beach” on Friday. If you know me, you know I love off beat films, particularly if there is driving or, more specifically, getaway driving with an amazing soundtrack. Drive (2011) is a masterpiece in my opinion and has remained number one in my favourite film list since the first time I saw in all its glory six years ago. Yes I love Ryan Gosling, but it’s so much more that that. The cinematography, the lighting, the dialogue (or lack of), the soundtrack, the action, the violence, the feeling. All of which I will discuss in more detail in my ’10 Reasons Why’ post about Drive that is currently in my drafts.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I saw Baby Driver at Backyard Cinema because it offers a little more than your regular cinema experience. Think Baywatch meets The Fresh Prince with a side of Miami Vice and you get the idea. Free flip-flops, sand and cocktails served in plastic palm tress as you relax in huge bean bags on a “beach.”

Despite the aesthetics of the setting, nothing could detract from the film which I can honestly say is my favourite of 2017. Nothing else I’ve seen has made me sit write notes since La La Land (2016) and Baby Driver did that for me. Sick of the Marvel Universe and re-makes that have dominated the big screen over the last few years (Baywatch need I say more?), instead this film was a breath of fresh air – it was nostalgic, slick with a modicum of sexy driving and moody glaring. There are parallels with Whiplash (2015) through protagonist Baby’s playlist which punctuates the entire film, including the great mix he makes using mob boss Doc’s  (Kevin Spacey) line “Is he Slow?” If you haven’t heard it it’s worth a listen!

Baby (Angel Elgort) is a brooding young man with raging tinnitus – hence the music that constantly plays to drown out the ringing in his ears – caused by an accident he was in as a child. Drawn into the criminal underbelly of Atlanta due to his debt to Doc, Baby dances (almost literally) through the action with each move painstakingly choreographed and ostensibly mirroring his artful driving. Director Edgar Wright manages to create a fine balance between mystery, vulnerability and strength, making Baby so much more than just an action hero. The tenderness of the care he provides for his deaf and paralysed step-father offers him a depth sorely lacking in many contemporary leading male roles.

What can I say about the car chases? Yes they have become cliched if not absurd through franchises such as Fast and Furious, but Wright adds an extra dimension: the meticulously chosen soundtracks that become intrinsically connected to each move Baby makes as he drives. The song and the car become one and this is something I have never seen as successfully carried out as it is in this film. The car chases become necessary to the unfolding story, instead of a spectacle for a generation of young adults with the attention span the length of the average meme. It is almost, dare I say it, a car chase musical, but very cool and very sexy.

My single criticism has to be how the women depicted in the film aren’t allowed to become 3D characters. Baby’s mother, love interest Deborah (Lily James) and heist teammate Darling (Eiza González), all offer glimpses of depth but never get the opportunity to develop. This is a common criticism of the film, so looking beyond that, could it be possible (or just hopeful on my part) that this is intentional? We know Baby lost his mother in a car accident when he was a child and that she lives on through her music in her son’s mind. Could it be that Baby cannot allow the women in his life to become more than vague sketches? I have to say that the memory of his mother and the final scene showing Deborah arriving to collect Baby from prison, looking a lot like his mum, could make this idea possible. You would be forgiven for thinking Deborah was a reincarnation of Baby’s mother and a figment of his imagination.

Silence. This is the loudest and most glaringly stark part of the film. When there is no music you know something serious is about to happen. The feel good soundtrack that drives the film (excuse the pun!) works in stringent contrast to the moments of quiet Baby experiences, particularly around Deborah. Most of the time it seems Baby uses music to block out reality and feelings, but with Deborah he can allow reality to creep in through the promise of happiness – something we can safely assume Baby hasn’t had much experience of. However, as the quote in the title suggests, the minute he falls for Deborah is the catalyst for his downfall as is usually the case for the tragic hero – he catches “feels.”

And so another tragic love story ends giving me hope that the best is yet to come. There are still great movies being made that challenge and exploit the cliched tropes of Hollywood cinema. Thank you Edgar Wright.

Female Solidarity: The Rise and Rise of the New Woman in Popular Culture

Image Credit: Robert Douglas and Flickr

“I will fight, for those who can not fight for themselves”

– Wonder Woman (2017)

Having finished watching Big Little Lies (2017) a couple of weeks ago, I have been waiting to find the time to sit down and let you know what I thought about it. It was recommended to me as: “as good as True Detective Season One,” which to me was one of the best series of this decade, so I went in with high expectations. I’m still unsure whether this mini series reached the heights of True Detective (it’s pretty difficult to compete with a character like Rust Cohle in my book), but it was certainly a contender. I would market the series as True Detective meets Twin Peaks. The relaxing, slow opening sequence, the sleepy town, the mysterious death in the first few seconds. Yet, it echoes True Detective through the use of ana/prolepsis, with police interviews interrupting the main narrative to constantly remind us that this is the past – one of these people has died.

Throughout, I was convinced one of the women was the victim. I am sure many people thought the same as we have been conditioned to view woman as victims and men as saviours in the movies. How many tv series, films, books use women as the victim of a horrible crime as the central focus of the plot? All the way along there were little clues that any of the protagonists could be killed: Celeste (Nicole Kidman) by her violent husband; Jane (Shailene Woodley) during a confrontation with her attacker; or, Madeline (Reece Witherspoon) by her daughter/husband/ex-husband/bit on the side/bit on the side’s wife. I won’t spoil the surprise for those of you that have yet to see the final episode, but I was surprised by both the victim and the perpetrator.

Having started this blog entry a month ago (I know, but if you saw my deadlines and marking you would understand) I wasn’t sure where to take it. Having watched an array of new tv series over the last few weeks I can’t help but notice the prevalence of strong and surprising female leads. Don’t get me wrong, strong independent protagonists are nothing new (Ripley in Alien, Leia in Star Wars etc), but there is something about the female solidarity depicted in Big Little Lies that is a breath of fresh air amidst the current political climate. This, alongside the unexpected success of Wonder Woman in the box office this month, surely calls into question the relevance of the hyper-masculine action hero films that have dominated for decades.

Then, this morning, I watched some of the trailers for the new releases announced at E3. Did anyone else notice how many of the new games had a female protagonist as the lead? And a female protagonist that hasn’t been oversexualized through cartoon body proportions and “barely there” armour. The gaming market is worth more than the film industry and developers are finally recognising the importance and the prevalence of female gamers. The teenage boy that never sees the light of day as he spends all the hours hidden away attaining the highest rank and finding the rarest weapon before any of his virtual friends catch-up, is a thing of the past. Having spent most of my life gaming and being forced to experience the virtual world through the eyes of alpha males and monstrous females, I can’t wait to play as a host of new women in upcoming releases such as Anthem, Destiny 2 and Star Wars Battlefront 2.

 

Opposite of Anachronism

“Here’s to the one’s who dream, foolish as they may seem.”

Image Credit: Flickr and Oscar Youlten

La La Land (2017): Turning Anachronism on its Head: A Post-Postmodern Revelation.

Imagine the scene: bumper to bumper traffic on the M25, it’s hot, there’s no sign of movement, and people are getting frustrated. Then, everyone gets out of their cars and starts singing on the bonnet. Bear with me. This is the opening to the latest Hollywood “must-see” La La Land. Starring Emma Stone (Birdman (2014), The Amazing Spiderman (2012)) and Ryan Gosling (Drive (2011), The Big Short (2015)), director Damien Chapelle takes his latest Oscar nominated film in a direction that hasn’t been seen since the likes of Singin’ in the Rain (1953) and the golden age of Hollywood musicals.

Now to get to the interesting part (well, I think so). This film has been slated in certain circles as misogynistic: Seb (Gosling) a “jazz snob” and struggling musician meets an underappreciated waitress/actress living through the hardships of the so called “American Dream. Not so! To claim that this film reflects an anti-feminist stance is to write off the key elements of this film that have (as far as I know) not been explored. To me, this film is a demonstration of the possibilities of a post-postmodern future for cinema, in which postmodern tropes can be used and exploited to evoke a sincerity that has been absent of late.

There are so many examples in which Chapelle parodies the clichéd tropes of the cinematic past in order to realise, not only a new era of cinema, but also, a new style of femininity on the silver screen. Take her first audition as an example: the audience can see immediately that Mia is a good actress (and that avoids the meta issue here); nevertheless, the “film people” that watch the audition are distracted and Mia is interrupted: cue her walking out through a corridor filled with red-haired young women in white shirts. I know what you’re all screaming: the waitress/actress cliché is so apparent here. Yes! You’re right! And that’s the point. This film is not a pity party about the lack of opportunities for up and coming young actresses trying to make it big in Hollywood, whilst working their asses off for $2 tips every night. Think beyond the character for a minute: Chapelle plays on the audiences’ expectations in order to build up a tension that he will savagely tear down at the end (but more of that later).

Then we have the nod to Singin’ in the Rain in which Mia and Seb enact a traditional musical number as the sun sets over L.A and the street lamps begin to glow. What could be more romantic right? Wrong. Their rendition of ‘A Lovely Night’ is the antithesis of romance and has them reeling off all the reasons they couldn’t possibly find each other attractive. What could possibly create more sexual tension than to watch Stone and Gosling dance and sing, whilst declaring their revulsion of each other? I ask you. Then her phone rings… this temporal disruption jars here as the ring tone crashes the nostalgic vibe by reminding the audience that despite the aesthetics, this is not the 1950’s and technology, globalisation and women’s rights are a thing now. What’s the opposite of an anachronism? Because that’s what this is.

Oh, and although this is not in chronological order, how could I possibly continue without mentioning the scene that created the most controversy amongst feminist critics. In an early scene, Mia witnesses Seb playing the haunting melody ‘City of Stars’ for the first time and is mesmerised by his skill. Whilst admiring his ability, Seb is being fired for going off piste with his set list (honky-tonk renditions of Christmas classics). As Mia approaches Seb to declare her astonishment at his talent, he barges passed, knocking her aside as he exits. Now to many women, this is a few steps back in terms of equal representation. However, as a woman, I can honestly say it doesn’t even come close to that. I think Chapelle is riffing on his postmodern critique of the romantic comedy genre – yet again messing with the audiences’ expectations for the development of the plot. The beautiful music and the way their eyes meet across a crowded room….Oh come on! This is 2017. Things are not that simple anymore. Surely we are all desensitized to that kind of romantic drivel now!

There is so much to be said about each scene of this film but I won’t elaborate on the minutiae, as much as I would like to. The point here is that this film looks to expose the clichéd tropes of earlier romantic dramas and the lack of depth in the “romantic drama” of the last decade. Do not underestimate this film, yes it’s tragic and heart-breaking, but Blue Valentine (2010) this is not, and this is how Chapelle avoids the fatalistic trap of the postmodern romantic drama.

Following the expected format of love – issue – solution, after a brief honeymoon period the cracks begin to show as Mia and Seb’s careers develop. Mia becomes a playwright with her own looming one-woman-show, whilst Seb, weary of not being able to provide for the love of his life, takes on a role in his school friend’s band – abandoning his purist notions of Jazz to earn $1000 a week in what I can only describe as a “New age Jazz” band. I am not, and have never claimed to be a jazz expert and I apologise to those of you that take your Jazz as seriously as Seb does in the film, I am sure my terminology will cause great offence. Nevertheless, the point here is that whilst Mia never lets go of her dream, Seb is willing to sacrifice his in order to allow Mia to become the actress he knows she can be, and therein lies the tragedy at the heart of this film.

As the final curtains loom, Mia is depicted five years later as a successful actress with a family and Seb is nowhere to be seen. In a bittersweet cyclical nod to the beginning, Mia and her new husband, about to leave town for their hotel, hear a jazz bar and descend the staircase to… you guessed it…Seb’s. Across the room Mia and Seb’s eyes meet and he sits to play ‘City of Stars’ for one last time and all sense of spatial and temporal constraints are re-evaluated. The intensity of their gaze allows Seb to form a ‘rememory’ of his past, sweeping aside the years that the audience were not allowed to see and reimagining his potential relationship with Mia, had life not got in the way. As they dance across the stage with painted film sets clearly drawing attention to the artificiality of Seb’s fantasy, the audience are allowed a taster of what life could have been like for Mia and Seb if the American dream was truly accessible. The film is, after all, called La La Land, and thus we must assume that the depiction of love and life has ‘its head in the clouds’ so to speak. Dancing amongst the stars (now a black screen with lights behind) acts as a heavy contrast with the romantic scene in the observatory in which real constellations and galaxy could be seen as they defied gravity. This, my friends, is the tragedy that lies at the heart of this film: most of the time love and ambition are not compatible or, to quote the Rolling Stones: “you don’t always get what you want.”

So, arguably Seb’s final reverie is proof of a new era of post-postmodern affect in which sincerity becomes the overriding theme, because, in this case, there is no chance of a reconciliation, but at the same time that’s okay. The feelings remain and are forever encased in the smile and the silence of the end of the film.

Like I said, a masterpiece and a truly revolutionary piece of cinema. If La La Land doesn’t sweep the Oscars this year, then something is definitely wrong in this world (as if you didn’t suspect that already).

More soon.