Clara

Cecil says: Regular readers know how I love the opening scenes of a film, and this was another great scene-setter: 1850, we are told, and a wonderful opening of the coal being shovelled into the engine of a steam train.

Interesting biopic focusing on Clara Schumann, wife of Robert Schumann, lover (muse, says the film preview) of Johannes Brahms and composer in her own right. The film follows the course of Schumann's career from Bonn to Hamburg and Dusseldorf as he gradually succombs to arthritis and (probably) a similar disease to the one that afflicted George III (if we are to believe The Madness of King George); Clara takes over as conductor of the Dusseldorf orchestra as Schumann himself becomes less and less able to work. Brahms meanwhile is the budding talent who is infatuated with Clara.

I love any story linking famous composers as it gives a great sense of context and continuity in the music world (the best choir masters we sing with are the ones who tell stories of who was doing what to who while such-and-such a work was being written). And the jealousies and rivalries between great musicians are very contemporary (Lennon/MacCartney; Oasis/Take That).

Bea and I are both intrigued by Brahms, though, more than the Schumanns. When we were trying to find an appropriate Brahms song to have sung at our wedding, we struggled to find anything uplifting and his songs give the impression of a man who was perpetually unhappy in love. The song we chose in the end is called "Your blue eye", so either this was not about Clara Schumann or the actress Martina Gedeck was badly cast as she definitely had two eyes and they appeared to be brown.

In spite of the excellent story-line, this was a difficult film to watch. In part this was because Martina Gedeck is the spitting image of Davina McCall and you kept wondering if there might suddenly be a Big Brother cameo piece about to take off; it was also annoying because, in spite of its billing as an 'original version' French-German-Hungarian film, the version we saw was dubbed into French and it reminded me just how hard it is to watch dubbed films, when the lips are out of synch with the sound.

Final observation: how primitive neuro-surgery was at the time. Cringe-worthy to watch how the Bonn-based 'surgeon' gets his drill out to get through the skull of Schumann in an effort to release whatever pressures there were building up next to his brain. Turn away at that point if you're squeamish.

***

Bea says: I had some reservations about seeing this film when Cecil suggested it; not because of the subject matter which was entirely up my street, but because many years ago when I was a university student studying German I wrote an essay on Helma Sanders-Brahms' 1980s film Deutschland, Bleiche Mutter which is without doubt the most depressing film ever to have been released. I made it all the way through Deutschland, Bleiche Mutter twice in the interests of writing the essay - Cecil told me he left the cinema half way through when he saw it, as it was just too unbearable to watch.

Clara was, in comparison, much more uplifting, beautifully costumed and shot, and with a particularly fine performance turned in by the actor playing Schumann, his excellent skills all the more noticable to me as I do not speak or understand a lot of French, so I was totally reliant on facial expression and context to follow the plot, which I managed to do. The story was fascinating; despite being interested in classical music I had not known of Clara Schumann's key role in both of these composers' lives.

Highly recommended.
***

Broken Embraces

Cecil says: I must confess I am not a fan of films about film-making. They seem so self-indulgent and really only speak to people who work in the film industry. So I was disappointed to come away from Almodovar's latest thinking just that.

The plot in a nutshell: film director has an accident which blinds him and after the accident he carries on his life as a completely different character: Harry Caine, the blind writer. Everyone goes along with this new character, new name, new personality, but then someone comes back on the scene from the film director's former life to blur the boundaries and challenges everything. The film switches back and forth between the present and the past so that we gradually put together the story of what happened in the run up to the accident and we see how Harry Caine deals with what comes to light.

The trouble is, although it was quite interesting to see how the two lives joined together, the film itself did drag on. It felt like it hadn't been edited enough and some of the scenes could easily have been left out. Well over two hours long and could have been 90 minutes. Is there an irony there or was it Almodovar's intention, given that the final point of the film is all to do with poor editing of the director's last film?

I hadn't seen an Almodovar film for over 20 years. I know, I missed loads and I'm trying to remember why I stopped wanting to go to them. Maybe it's because he does just talk about himself too much: that period when he was expressing all the unconventional sides of his personality which made films like 'The law of desire' so powerful had become almost boring by 'High heels'.

Ultimately, I didn't care about any of the characters; and I was looking at my watch with half an hour to go. Not a great advertisement for a film, I'm afraid. Or was I just hungry for my dinner?

**

Bea says: Hear, hear. "All About My Mother" was the last Almodovar film I saw, and although I enjoyed it at the time it wasn't memorable. I liked the slow unravelling/untangling of the story in this film, although I could guess a lot of what was about to happen. I also liked the beautiful colours of the character's flats and the striking black beach of the island the protagonists visit - it is a beautiful film to watch. There is some interesting depth to the film - we talked a while afterward trying to tease out what Almodovar might have been trying to say. But boringly like Cecil, I didn't like the film-within-a-film plot, or the length - perhaps Cecil and I made a mistake going to see this before rather than after dinner! I won't be in a rush to see another Almodovar, but I wouldn't object either.
**

The Time Traveler's Wife

Bea says: I was keen to see this as I had very much enjoyed the book (although enjoying a book certainly doesn't always make for an enjoyable film), and in fact had thought at the time of reading Audrey Niffeneger's novel that it would make a good film. This adaptation is relatively true to the original story, although noticeably less dark, which I felt was a shame as the darkness of the book casts the potential soppiness - for want of a better word - of the love story into relief; the film loses much of this contrast. Neither lead actor was particularly familiar to me, although they both carried their parts off well, and the potential pitfalls of the disappearing, time travelling husband were avoided: as in the book, it becomes totally believable. I might have thought this was really good, if I hadn't watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button recently (on the plane journey home from Australia), which deals with a similar theme so much better, and so much more beautifully.
***

Cecil says: My main problem for the first half hour was distinguishing between the 'really old' guy in his mid-30s and the apparently younger guy of the moment, who must have been - ooh, let's see - 25. They apparently put grey highlights through the older guy's hair but blow me if you can tell the difference; so I had no idea really if she married the man she was supposed to or the time-travelling oldie.

OK, continuity apart, this film has a nice story and the film kept me happily entertained for an hour and a half, without ever feeling any real affinity or involvement with the characters. I must admit I struggle to engage with this kind of 'what if' scenario. Bit like Back to the Future or Doctor Who - can be rip-roaring stuff, but not a lot of meaning...

I did reflect on one incident, however, as it had an echo of something very personal and painful from my own experience in the last few months. How often in life do you know deep down that this is the last time you will ever see a person? or that they are about to die? It happens in The Time Traveler's Wife and it happened to me 6 weeks ago at the bedside of my father as I left him to return to London for the last time before he died. Unimaginably difficult moments in one's life which you hope will never happen again. So, yes, this scene did bring a tear to my eyes, but I'm not sure it would have been the weepie film it was billed as if it had not been for my recent personal experience.

***

Coco before Chanel

Bea says: Another film seen at the wonderful Colloroy cinema in Sydney, at 12.30 in the afternoon (bliss!) after a bracing swim in the Colloroy rock pool. I will make no bones about the fact that I love clothes and fashion, so was thrilled when Cecil suggested this one. Despite being a dedicated follower of the fashion world though, I realised as I watched this film that I knew next to nothing about Coco Chanel. I did not know that she had been abandoned as a child and brought up in an orphanage (where the nuns taught her to sew beautifully), I didn't know she had made a living singing in bars with her sister, or that she had been forced by circumstance to throw herself on the mercy of a wealthy man, who took her in as his mistress, all before being supported by another man to move to Paris and begin her fledging hat and clothing business.





But aside from a riveting story, and the beautiful and striking clothes - everything worn by Chanel could easily be worn today, and reminded me of a piece of dressing advice I once read by her (and which I follow): "before you go out, take one thing off" - this was nicely written, well executed, and lovely to watch. The always good Audrey Tatou played a star turn in the leading role, and Alessandro Nivola puts in a solid performance as "Boy". My only gripes - Chanel came across as a little precious at times, and I guessed the outcome of Chanel and Boy's relationship before it happened.





A very enjoyable afternoon.


***





Cecil says: I love the fact that a small arthouse cinema across the road from a surf beach in Sydney can show this film 4 weeks before it hits London's cinemas. Testing the audience in other parts of the world? If so, it's a particular cross-section of Australian society who pitched up to watch this with us for the matinee. I was the only man in the cinema - apart from the guy in the projection room; and the rest of the audience? 12 ladies, average age 65 - where did they all appear from??? Anyway, it made Bea and me the odd couple in the place.



Now, I'm not a great connoisseur of women's fashion, but I can tell when something really is awful and have quite a good eye for a stylish outfit. It's true that the fashion when Chanel started up was ridiculous: hats with bowls of fruit on top of them and other flouncy dresses and accoutrements so in that sense it was pretty easy to be revolutionary and keep things dramatically simple, as Chanel did. But actually I don't particularly like the style myself - a bit too boyish and plain for my liking, but hey, we aren't here to comment on fashion taste, but on film...

I must say I didn't really warm to any of the characters: the wealthy ex-officer from the French nobility, weary of his social obligations, playing with the young urchin from a provincial singing duo; the dashing young English businessman, a bit too business-like and so, you know, English!; and Coco Chanel herself, cute on one level, with her aspirations to make it on the Paris stage, but actually exploiting the noble officer's inability to throw her out. I didn't feel an enormous amount of sympathy for her really and since I also didn't much like the clothes, there was not a lot for me in this film.

I couldn't help feeling there was an undercurrent admiring the French for either knowing how to behave in society, or knowing how to rebel; while the English are really only interested in business, making money and driving fast cars, with love coming a poor 4th. Well, it's true, you might say. But is it????

**.5

Is anybody there?

Cecil says: A return to our favourite Sydney cinema up by Collaroy beach on the north shore to see this low-budget UK film with Michael Caine playing a grumpy old man, a former magician, who signs himself into one of those care homes for the elderly.

Let's discuss the cinema first, before we get to the film. This amazing 1930s building just over the road from one of the best surf beaches in Sydney plays about the best programme of mainly independent films you can get anyway in the Sydney area. Its internal decor smacks of neglected English seaside resorts - wonderful old seats, chandeliers all over the place, a magnificent stage - but you know for sure that in every English resort such a building has now become an amusement arcade or a bingo hall.

The scandal is that this cinema does little or nothing to promote itself. Yes, it has wonderful films on show, but this Caine film played to an audience of 4: in fact the main film had started before Bea and I were joined by another couple. Take a look at its website, though ( www.unitedcinemas.com.au ) and you see nothing about the history and character of this fantastic cinema. Where are the archive pictures of great moments in its history? What about a decade by decade slide show of great films they have screened ? Or the changing audiences ? Or the changing decor - were there ever changes? Somebody must love this cinema enough to keep it open for such small audiences - shouldn't they open a Friends of Collaroy group to get worldwide attention on this marvel before it really does collapse in a pile of rubble... Take heed Collaroy - Cecil and Bea would be founder members...

So, to this film: a nice portrayal of a 1980s family struggling to make ends meet by converting their house into a care home for the elderly; the young teenage son fed up because he has had to give up his bedroom to a succession of ga-ga geriatrics; and the old magician (Caine) who pitches up one day in his magician's truck and gradually warms to the place and the people in it after his initial despair at the senile oldies around him.

Coming from East Yorkshire, I found some of the production (or director's?) choices slightly odd. The screenplay was obviously written for a care home somewhere near the coast and near Hull (Cecil's birthplace). They managed to have a bus to Hull in the film; they referred to Skidby windmill (one of the local landmarks), but the scenry was so unlike anything near to Hull and the nearby beach resort was nothing like anything on the East coast of Yorkshire. Even the accents in the local school were wrong (West Yorkshire, I think, but certainly not Hull accents) - I mean, if you're going to do a film set in Hull, why film it in Kent? And why not check up on local accents? Might seem a bit pedantic to non-locals, but did jar with me throughout the film. Isn't the Hull area good enough for filming in?????
** 1/2

Bea says:
I enjoyed the experience of seeing this film, but actually think it was overall somewhat forgettable (just demonstrated here at the Cecil and Bea residence by me asking Cecil which other film we saw in Australia when he suggested blogging the "first"... I remembered the other one all right - soon to be blogged). Michael Caine is like a brilliant spot of colour in the otherwise dreary, dull existance of this family, in the (supposed) north of England in the 1980s. And he really is brilliant in what he does with the dialogue, the spaces he occupies, and the decline he portrays. The other (well regarded) actors pale somewhat in comparison. I wasn't overly keen on the too-neat ending, although it did add to the film's feel-good vibe, and it was this ending, in fact, which made the film forgettable for me. However, a pleasant diversion.
** 1/2

Cecil adds: The film was actually more poignant for me because, just 3 weeks earlier, I had spent a distressing Saturday driving round the country roads north and west of Hull (yes, we did drive past Skidby windmill!) looking for a care home for my own Dad. There can be nothing more soul-destroying for an elderly person who needs constant care, but is of sound mind and has full mental capacities, than to be left in a home where your welcome at the front door is the crazed yellings and screeches of the residents who have basically lost their marbles. And why do the staff of homes like these have to shout in such ever-jolly voices to these old folk as if they were 2-year olds barely out of nappies? Maybe because senility takes you back to a child-like state, but surely there can be more decorum and respect; and voices can be pitched at normal adult register? We certainly saw one home rather like the one depicted in 'Is anybody there?' and for all the difficulties my Dad has had in the home we chose ultimately, I'm sure his experience would have been far far worse in a home like that.

The Young Victoria

Bea says:

Sunday was Mother's Day in Australia, and on this rare occasion, I have my mother and sister here with me in London. So on Sunday I took them both up to the Apollo Cinema in Piccadilly, and we saw The Young Victoria, as a Mother's Day treat. Regular readers will know that I love a historical costume drama, as does my mother, and we both loved this. My sister is made of less sentimental stuff, but even she was won over. I'd had reservations about this film - it has had almost unanimously poor reviews, but after seeing it, I think entirely undeservedly. It documents Victoria's life in detail shortly prior to her coronation, and for about four years after, including her relationship with Albert, and Lord Melbourne. I knew little about this time in her life, and she made an interesting and spirited heroine, and was very well played. Rupert Friend also performed well as Albert. The film was gripping - afterwards over a coffee we all commented on how quickly the time had passed in the cinema.

However what I appreciated the most was not the telling of the story of Victoria's early years on the throne, but the carefully rounded characterisation of all the key characters - the many complexities and flaws of human nature were well drawn, as were the complications and also the endurance of family ties and other close relationships. Victoria's relationship with her mother, her nurse/governess, Albert, and Lord Melbourne all made for fascinating viewing as these relationships changed, grew, developed, became closer or more distant as the years went on. No character was completely likable, none completely unlikable.

A film with much unappreciated depth. I am glad I saw it.

***

Cheri

Cecil says: A glitzy premiere, with red carpets, flashing cameras and gorgeous lead actors. What could go wrong with such an occasion? Well, the first odd thing is that, for a film being premiered at the Institut Francais, based on a novel by Colette and set in Paris, there was a complete absence of French, through the whole evening. Not a word of French on the screen; not a word in French during the Q&A afterwards. The director, Stephen Frears, even confessed that he doesn't speak a word of the language; and the writer, Christopher Hampton, made the strange remark that he had started out with the idea of writing a biopic on Colette herself. So, how and why did he then embark on a screenplay of one of her novels instead? We never found out, but perhaps that is at the root of a sense of emptiness that runs through the film.

Sure, the characters are in a sense empty shells themselves: Michelle Pfeifer, the ageing (at 32!) courtesan determined not to fall in love with Rupert Friend, the young dandy, seven years her junior, who plays at love but gets himself paired off in an arranged marriage. And the whole story is set at the end of the 'Belle Epoque', with a sense of an era drawing to a close and running out of steam. Maybe it's meant to come across as sterile and fading, but it's very hard to engage with characters who have no real...character! Rupert Friend himself said in the Q&A how hard it had been to play the role of such a passive male; of how he had struggled to get any sense of the person he was supposed to be portraying.

Michelle Pfeifer is the best thing about this film, though. Not only her personality, which dominates proceedings through the plot, but her presence on the screen; her diction is perfect and is the one reason why I'm glad the film was in English rather than French - I could listen to her for hours and sit transfixed. But it's a shame Bea wasn't able to join me this time: it's the sort of film where you get the impression a male and female perspective on it would be bound to be different; not necessarily contradicting, but somehow complementary, and it makes my views on the film seem somehow incomplete.

I didn't particularly enjoy the film, but was it, in the words of one viewer I overheard afterwards, really "a film for women"? Without Bea being there, I'll never know...All I can say is that I would like to read the book now, to see how far Frears/Hampton kept to the heart of the story.

I can't end this entry without a comment on the audience again (I know, we are becoming as much people-watchers as film viewers these days). It was fascinating to see the cameras flashing desperately as soon as the young English actress arrived at the Institut. I'm afraid I can't even remember her name and her role is a bit-part compared to Pfeiffer, but the adulation via the lens gave the impression she must be THE star of the movie; I loved the gooey-eyed and adoring cluster of young women who interviewed Rupert Friend ahead of the screening: they were hanging on his every word, but was it his looks or what he had to say? does it matter, if you adore someone that much?

And finally, what is it about the film industry that seems to attract men in the 60s with long hair and wearing black shirts. Now, those of you who know how little hair I have might put this down to jealousy, but black shirts??? Come on!

**.5