Glengarry Glen Ross.
Pacino. Lemmon. Spacey. Harris. Arkin. Pryce. Baldwin; the good one, the one from Beetlejuice. A supreme cast of acting talent that deliver David Mamet’s superb screenplay, adapted from the stage production that garnered him a Pulitzer Prize, in a manner befitting their respective reputations. Glengarry Glen Ross tells of four salesman of a real estate company: desperate, ageing, down-on-his-luck Levene; the innocent and easily influenced Aarondow; Moss, a frustrated, aggressive figure; and the silver-tongued star salesman, Roma. Dissatisfied by their poor sales performances, the directors of the company send cutthroat businessman Blake to motivate them. During a scathing tirade, Blake informs the sales team that they have until the end of the month to keep their jobs; after which the top sellers will receive the prized Glengarry leads, information on potential customers for a new estate, from despised office manager Williamson, the rest will be fired. Taking place over a pulsating two days, Glengarry Glen Ross reveals the despicable underbelly of corporate, capitalist America and the characters that dwell therein. Plenty of effing and jeffing throughout the sharp, back and forth dialogue that refuses to let up.
Barton Fink.
In the early 1940s, following a recent Broadway triumph lauded by critics, playwright Barton Fink is offered a contract to pen movies in Los Angeles; though initially resistant, he reluctantly accepts. Fearing to stay in too “Hollywood” a hotel, Barton checks in at the Earle: an eerie, run-down establishment, complete with peeling wallpaper, irksome mosquitos and walls unable to insulate the sounds of their inhabitants. Barton’s forte as a playwright was in capturing the essence and turmoil of the “common man”, he is then somewhat taken aback when he learns from Capitol Pictures head, Jack Lipnick, that his first project is a wrestling film, a subject he is entirely unfamiliar with. As his stay at the Earle continues and his inability to create a script grows, the situations around Barton become more bizarre and yet more sinister. The Coen Brothers’ tense, unsettling dark comedy features an ensemble cast of regulars, top billed by John Turturro producing possibly his best performance as the titular protagonist, and wonderfully shot by the unparalleled Roger Deakins in his first collaboration with the Coens. Barton Fink is a thoroughly entertaining picture so dense in theme, style and allegory that it could and probably should be analysed by film student for years to come.
The Last of the Mohicans.
New York, 1757. Britain is at war with France, with Native Americans allied on either side. British Army Major Heyward is assigned to serve the commander of Fort William Henry, Colonel Munro; his first duty is to escort his superior’s two daughters to their father, the elder of which, Cora, the Major proposes to. En route to the fort Heyward is betrayed by his believed-to-be Mohawk guide, Magua, as the convoy is ambushed by French-loyal Hurons. The Major’s troop of soldiers are killed, with only Heyward and the Colonel’s daughters surviving thanks to an intervention by Mohican Chingachgook, his son Uncas and his white adopted son Nathaniel. What they discover as they proceed to Fort William Henry, and the events therein, may well dictate the outcome of the war and the lives of the inhabitants of the nearby territories. Michael Mann’s passion project (director, writer and producer), The Last of the Mohicans, is a historical action film that unfortunately spreads itself a little thin, almost as if it is caught between being a historical epic and a romantic action flick. Though it’s already 112 minutes in length, it could have done with an extra hour in order to fully explore the developing relationships between the characters. As it is, the characters are somewhat underdeveloped and the impact of the events in the final third of the film is lost. The look and feel of the film is terrific however: authentic costumes, breathtaking real effects, stunning photography, a marvellous score and Daniel Day-Lewis on song as always.
JFK.
Dallas. 22nd November 1963. 12:30. Lee Harvey Oswald shoots President John F Kennedy from the sixth floor of the Texas Book Depository. The United States is polarised by the assassination, with many believing him to have been soft on communism. Oswald, a pro-Castro Marxist, proclaims his innocence, stating that he is a “patsy”. New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison learns of potential links to the assassination that fall under his jurisdiction, his investigations are publicly denounced by the federal government however and Oswald is subsequently killed by Jack Ruby, forcing Garrison to close the investigation. The Warren Report, the official document depicting the events the day of Kennedy’s assassination, is released in 1966; Garrison is unconvinced by the “sloppy” conclusion of Oswald’s guilt, leading him to reopen the case. His obsession with the mystery causes his family life to suffer, while the revelations and conspiracies his team uncover have shocking ramifications, not necessarily who or how, but why. Frantic editing of short close-up shots interspersed with pulsating flashbacks and a seriously tense score ensures the pace of JFK never drops below anything short of exhausting; while the final scenes will have leave you shaken, paranoid and desperate to research the events for yourself. Oliver Stone’s epic political thriller is a deliciously disorientating picture with a profound message: those with power will never willingly relinquish it, it is up to us then to constantly strive for truth and democracy. Regardless of whether it’s 100% fact or not, JFK is a bloody impressive spectacle.
Europa.
You’re in Frankfurt, October 1945. You are Leopold Kessler, an American-born man of German descent, returning to your father’s homeland in an effort to mend a broken country in distress following a horrifying war. Your uncle greets you, informing you of a job he has arranged: you are to be a sleeping car conductor on the cross-country Zentropa network. He warns you that Germans hate their American occupiers: your compatriots don’t treat Europeans with respect. You are torn between the German tycoon family that runs Zentropa and an American colonel searching for Nazi sympathisers as you become embroiled in conspiracies and melodrama. Hypnotically narrated in the second person, Europa drags you into Kessler’s existential crisis and doesn’t let you go. Director Lars Von Trier incorporates an experimental filmmaking technique, in that occasionally characters will interact with back projections giving the film an odd sense of surrealism. That is perhaps the best word to describe Europa, odd: at times it feels as though you are watching a soap opera rather than a poignant post-WWII drama.
Back to the Culture 