I daresay I’m a bit late for the usual end-of-year lists
period, but I’m a busy man (sort of) and I don’t have time to see every film
that’s out. Nevertheless, I saw lots of films in 2012 more than ever before (I’m
sad, I keep track of that sort of thing). Some of them I liked and some of them
I hated (The Hobbit – just awful, like expensive fan fiction).
The Hunt
One of the rarer pleasures of 2012, and amongst its most
original, Berberian Sound Studio sees the unfailingly perfect Toby Jones take a
job as a sound engineer. His job is the dubbing of a 70s Italian giallo horror, The
Equestrian Vortex. Shy and awkward, he’s easily intimidated by the film’s seedy
and ruthless producer and director team. And as he creates his grizzly sound effects -
breaking celery, assaulting cabbages - he begins to lose his mind and get
consumed by his work.
It’s been a good year for Mikkelson, putting in another
impressive performance in this multi-layered historical drama. Mikkelson is a provincial
Danish doctor, Struensee, who becomes court physician to mad King Christian
with whom he appears to be a positive influence. While trying to balance out the
King’s behaviour, he becomes close to his Queen. Much too close. And when he
becomes frustrated with the court’s inability to deal effectively with plague,
he begins to abuse his position to push through new health reforms.
Lift-affirming is usually a label that suggests over-earnest, over-done and over-desperate for an Oscar. Nostalgia for the Light isn’t just a philosophical film that can
actually make a decent, honest claim to the label, but it’s a solid argument
that science and belief needn’t be mutually exclusive.
Just a few, I really, really, liked, and out of the really-liked category, here are my favourite five. In no particular order this year,
because I couldn’t think of one.
The Hunt
Considering the revelations, mis-accusations and arrests of
the past four months, its unsurprising that The Hunt’s distributors wanted to
get it out in the UK quick, faster even than its native Denmark when
it comes out next year. This all-too-true tale of a man whose life is destroyed
after an accusation of paedophilia couldn’t be more prescient.
Mads Mikkelsen is a nursery school teacher, a lonely
divorcee who is accused of the unspeakable. We know from the start the story is
fiction, told by a girl with confused feelings for him, due to an attachment
borne, ironically, from her own father’s neglect, as well as exposure to her
brother’s pornography. When a colleague hears the girl describe acts that never
took place, things quickly spiral out of control. The parents not only refuse
to believe their children could be lying, but are quick to putting words into
their mouths that exacerbate.
The scenario, in which a lack of proper procedures and escalating
hysteria condemn a man without trial, is all too plausible. If
anything, in real life, the situation might well be worse and even more
hysterical. Mikkelsen might be a little too-good –to-be-true in his mostly
quiet martyrdom. But besides it’s timely believability, it’s also superbly
made, beautifully shot in appropriate cold, foggy surroundings with suspense
sequences that are heart-poundingly unsettling.
One of the rarer pleasures of 2012, and amongst its most
original, Berberian Sound Studio sees the unfailingly perfect Toby Jones take a
job as a sound engineer. His job is the dubbing of a 70s Italian giallo horror, The
Equestrian Vortex. Shy and awkward, he’s easily intimidated by the film’s seedy
and ruthless producer and director team. And as he creates his grizzly sound effects -
breaking celery, assaulting cabbages - he begins to lose his mind and get
consumed by his work.
Movie fans love films about films and Berberian Sound Studio
offers a double treat; a nostalgic trip to the golden dirty-days of Italian
giallo moviemaking, as well as an exploration of how films work, horror specifically.
We never see a single frame of the Equestrian Vortex (besides a spot-on title sequence
pastiche) but as Jones beats cabbages with a hammer we can’t help envision acts
of brutality and interpret his actions as an expression of his repressed anger.
Sound, editing, perspective, POV are all utilised to
transfer a rather bland studio (where almost all action takes place) into a
place where anything can be possible. Through the power of suggestion any image
can be created, with the worst left purely to our imagination. Berberian Sound Studio might not cut it for horror fans looking
for something bloody, but it’s an incredibly smart, funny, dissection of
movie-making with a clear love for all its cogs and frames (the camera
positively drools over film reels and mix tables).
In the end, like its giallo inspiration, style and effect
takes precedent over logic, culminating in an entirely ambiguous conclusion
where Gilderoy seems lost within his own movie. Suitably, we are left to make
of it what we will…
It’s been a good year for Mikkelson, putting in another
impressive performance in this multi-layered historical drama. Mikkelson is a provincial
Danish doctor, Struensee, who becomes court physician to mad King Christian
with whom he appears to be a positive influence. While trying to balance out the
King’s behaviour, he becomes close to his Queen. Much too close. And when he
becomes frustrated with the court’s inability to deal effectively with plague,
he begins to abuse his position to push through new health reforms.
Transcending the usual bodice-ripping tropes, it deals with
politics and reform and rather more complicated emotional dynamics. Struensee,
a basically morale man, gets in over-his-head and finds the pressure mount as
he finds himself not just pushing further and further for reform, but becoming
the de-facto ruler of the country. Something which puts him at
odds with the orthodox religious court who are most certainly not in favour of
modernisation.
Furthermore, the betrayal of his King comes to weigh down
hard on his shouldesr. Christian is gradually revealed to be a vulnerable,
lonely, emotionally-scarred man-child who has come to look at Struensee as his
only friend and the only person he can trust. As he continues to manipulate
him, Christian’s guilt mounts, but he is unable to relinquish power. He’s even
willing to talk his Queen, the woman he loves, into returning to the King’s bed
when the inconvenient matter of pregnancy rears its head. A Royal Affair is absolutely riveting drama,
and shines a light on a startling, little-known period in European history.
Lift-affirming is usually a label that suggests over-earnest, over-done and over-desperate for an Oscar. Nostalgia for the Light isn’t just a philosophical film that can
actually make a decent, honest claim to the label, but it’s a solid argument
that science and belief needn’t be mutually exclusive.
The launch point for director Patricio Guzmán is the Chilean Atacama
Desert, the driest place on earth. This makes it the perfect location for astronomers,
and at a huge new observatory scientists research and
probe the mysteries of the universe. But while they look at the skies, others
visit the desert for darker purposes. Thousands of people, disappeared by
General Pinochet’s regime, were buried there, and now their relatives search through the well-preserved bones to find traces of
their loved ones.
At first the film presents the gulf between the scientists
and the widows as representative of a country that can’t come to terms with its own
past. The widows are treated dismissively by many Chileans as chasing the past,
but the past is everywhere. The ruins of prison camps remain amongst the desert
sands, abandoned but very much part of the landscape.
Yet the film’s message is ultimately positive. Within the
observatory, the scientists discuss the big bang and the coming together of life.
They hypothesise that every element, from the hairs on our head to the grains
of sand beneath their feet have all come from this event, inextricably
linking everyone and everything together. Some involved in the observatory’s
work lost relatives to Pinochet’s regime, but they take comfort in that sense
of being part of something greater, and that this life is only part of a much
larger journey. You can keep your Brian Cox, explorations of life, the universe
and everything are rarely this beautiful and uplifting.
The Dark Knight Rises
Christopher Nolan has a habit of stuffing his films with so
much plot they’re almost bursting at the seams, and admittedly, Dark Knight
Rises is the one that finally pops the seam once and for all. There’s a lack of
discipline definitely – did we really need the story of the not-so-brave Police
captain, or to follow the fate of the henchman of a minor villain from the first act?
The Dark Knight Rises
Christopher Nolan has a habit of stuffing his films with so
much plot they’re almost bursting at the seams, and admittedly, Dark Knight
Rises is the one that finally pops the seam once and for all. There’s a lack of
discipline definitely – did we really need the story of the not-so-brave Police
captain, or to follow the fate of the henchman of a minor villain from the first act?
Nolan’s third Batman is BIG, so big it could’ve completely
fallen apart. But ultimately it hits all the right notes and leaves you
exhausted not by the action, the effects or the plot lines, but by sheer
investment in the characters and their story. Frankly, the flaws don’t matter:
did you feel the rush when Batman reappears for the first time? Or get genuinely
choked up when Alfred leaves Wayne Manor?
Dark Knight Rises is big, but never dumb, and the stakes
have never been higher. It might be over-stuffed, but the plot is more even and
satifsying than the tiring rug-being-pulled-from-under-you back-and-forth of
The Dark Knight, even if Bane isn’t quite as charismatic as the Joker. Hardy
still does good work as the muscular mastermind, and indeed, not a single
member of the cast doesn’t impress. And unlike Dark Knight, it deals with more
contemporary material in its attack on Wall Street and its referencing of the
99.9% movement (if not exactly adding to the debate)
And if you compare it to the other the Hollywood effects-laden
bohemoths, its achievements seem positively stellar. It’s intelligent and
exciting, directed with vigour and the rich cinematography is not harmed at all
by the move of most of the action to daylight. It’s got pretty everything you
could ask for in a blockbuster movie, with a leather-clad Anne Hathaway the
gorgeous icing on the cake.
Honorable mentions go to Sightseers, The Master, Moonrise Kingdom, Headhunters and Ted.
