Review: Wreck-It Ralph

There have been some recent animations, ostensibly for children, which have garnered both critical acclaim and adult popularity. Films like Wall-E and Up have combined handsome aesthetics with an authentic narrative, like the Disney productions of yesteryear. They seem to be aiming for more than simple mass distraction, with strong themes and emotional credibility. Despite some suspiciously close resemblances to Monsters Inc., I am confident in placing Wreck-It Ralph in this category.

The plot concerns the world of video game characters after their arcade closes. They are all living beings, who work as pawns in the hands of the paying customers, but at night sustain average existences. The titular protagonist is the game Fix-It Felix, Jr.’s bad guy, a role which he is sick of fulfilling. As he watches his colleagues celebrate the good guy’s continued success (fixing what Ralph has broken), he dreams of earning a medal like Felix. So he goes AWOL and hooks up with another game’s glitch,Vanellope von Schweetz, who dreams of legitimately entering the races of Sugar Rush. Much farcical slapstick and Machiavellian plotting twists the plot therein, numerous other characters joining the technological adventure.

The world that has been created is superb. It manages to be simultaneously visually impressive, interestingly composed and still rough enough to contain amusing impossibilities and non-sensical explanations. For example, one of the chomping heads from Pac-Man hosts a support group for disillusioned bad guys, with Bowser and a zombie urging Ralph to take it one day at a time. How the characters interact in their post-work environment provides a fascinating alternative to reality: I particularly enjoyed the early ‘80s characters' inability to walk in a smooth, high-definition fashion. It seems as if there are endless distractions from the story within this world. Wreck-It Ralph has clearly been made by people who are fond of these old arcade games.

For what is theoretically a children’s film, there is plenty for mature audiences. There are a fair few amusing lines, jokes and puns (two quick examples from the world made of candy: ‘we’re stuck in Nesquick sand!’; ‘don’t worry, he only glazed me’. Had to be there I guess.). Despite elements of predictability, the story is complex and waspish enough.

It's nice to see Oscar-nominated John C. Reilly in a starring role, not supporting bigger names likes Will Ferrell or Catherine Zeta-Jones. Sarah Silverman’s grating nasal whine actually suits her juvenile computer-glitch character. Other supporting actors are decent too, although I suppose that a sizeable applause should go to those who animated the picture, surely no small feat.

A bonus treasure is the preceding animated short called Paperman, a phenomenon which has happened a few times of late. Ultimately, Wreck-It Ralph is intended to entertain. And this is exactly what it does.

Contemporary Latin American Cinema

This month sees the release of Chilean film No, starring Gael Garcia Bernal, about the role of advertising in their 1988 national plebiscite. I for one think that it will prove to be as novel yet distinguished as the nation’s wine. So, in the spirit of Hispanic cultural flavour, I will give you a taste of today’s Latin American cinema, which has a mature yet unique body.

Introduction

Most of the best work has so far been from Mexico and Brazil, really coming into fruition in the last decade or two. Filmmakers such as Alfonso Cuarón, Alejandro González Ińárritu, Guillermo del Toro and Walter Salles have been consistently producing critically acclaimed and high-grossing pictures. Some have even hit the Western mainstream, like City of God, Pan’s Labyrinth and The Motorcycle Diaries. There are some common thematic and stylistic elements which tie this area of cinema together, rendering it both inimitable and numinous. 

Ernesto 'Che' Guevara before his career on middle-class T-shirts

Themes

Some profound themes are explored in Latin cinema, but often in a restrained and understated fashion. This is the antithesis of Hollywood’s blockbuster style, which will be further explored later. The filmmakers serve us a slice of reality, stuffed with insight and thought, a dish which is designed to give the viewer a taste of life and its contents.

All of life’s problems are investigated. Kids battle to escape from poverty (Linha de Passe), violence (City of God) and conservatism (Behind the Sun), all with realistic trouble. We watch as circumstance, death and injustice bare down on everyone in existence, the reactions of the victims proving an interesting ethnography.

Death is a frequent topic. Ińárritu even made a Death Trilogy (Amores perros, 21 Grams, Babel). It haunts many Latin films, with numerous leading characters being unceremoniously claimed by cancer, accident, murder, bad luck. In Behind the Sun, a young man is next in line to avenge his brother’s murder by a rival family, and thus be killed by his victim’s brother. The constant, lurking threat actually enhances the realism: after all, the only certainty in life is death.

Poverty is obviously an inescapable reality for many in Latin America. It is not surprising, then, that crushing monetary and material deficiency is a frequent topic. Sometimes it forms an inescapable web like prison for the characters to attempt an escape from (Linha de Passe), at other times it simply exists as a fact of life (Central do Brasil). No simple blame is dished out, nor are shallow romantic images thrown at the viewer, instead poverty is presented in all its forms.

Rio's Aristocracy

On a more metaphysical level, maturation features often. In the controversial Y Tu Mamá También, two Mexican kids take a bored Spaniard on a road trip, an excuse for filmmaker Cuarón to explore their delinquency and approach to life for an hour and a half. As the many children of today’s films get older, we witness their dealings with the wider world, and the effect that it has on them.

Growing up

An interesting, if unobvious, strain that runs throughout is the monotony of life. This idea of a realistic presentation of life extends to the endlessness of existence, where things keep turning and nothing changes. The cyclical nature of many films exacerbates this feeling. Behind the Sun starts with the never ending turning of a farm machine’s cogs, the driving oxen walking round and round in circles. The end of Linha de Passe leaves us in largely the same situation as the beginning. Even in an action-packed flick like Che, substantial amount of time is spent watching him ride donkeys around the jungle in circles.

On occasion, broader political themes can dealt with deftly and appropriately, like revolution (Che, The Motorcycle Diaries), political change (background in Y Tu Mamá También), or The Spanish Civil War (Pan’s Labyrinth). The penchant for realism serves the historical accuracy of these events well.ll.

Style

The style of today's Latin American cinema is often contemplative, sombre, majestic. The landscapes and cityscapes are silently observed in moments of tranquillity and thought. The films are pausing to highlight the beauty and tragedy of life for the audience, with cinema being a mode of viewing the world as it is, not as someone has dreamt it to be. The antithesis of Hollywood’s grand, escapist blockbusters, Latin Cinema exposes the awesome complexity of existence by witnessing the ordinary rather than laying on anything supernatural. Unknown actors are often used, as if plucked straight from the street which is being filmed. Rough locations like impoverished favelas and decrepit farms are more often the sets than glamorous scenes are. Watching a film like Behind the Sun or Linha de Passe is a melancholy and actually quite depressing experience, precisely because of the solemn vision mixed with the morbid thematic content.

The filming techniques compliment the themes of ordinary life and domesticity. Jaunty angles, imperfect camera use, lack of high definition, and little in the way of CGI or special effects all add to the coarse immediacy of the scene.

When action is called for, it tears through the story in brief bursts of overwhelming brutality, searing the passivity of the prior situation. Thus the violence is sharper and more moving. For example, in 21 Grams we see an assassination, bank robberies, a few dog fights and a major automobile collision. Placed between drawn out images of people sat at home, talking or even thinking, they emotionally place the viewer more effectively into the shoes of those involved.

Relaxing

Chatting

Contemplating

CRASHING

Recognisable Success

Do not for one second think that this is some niche genre, watched only by Guardian readers in independent cinemas: the effects have been felt globally. Despite the fact that many actors are amateur, or star with no prior experience, some faces have become recognisable worldwide. Benicio del Torro acts with Johnny Depp, Javier Bardem* appears in the Bond franchise, and Gael García Bernal is identifiable without jumping on Hollywood’s blockbuster gravy train. Latin American cinema can also draw in big names: Sean Penn, Brad Pitt and Kate Blanchett being prime examples. The Hispanic filmmakers have even managed to get their hands on notable Western productions. Ever heard of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Paris je t’aime, On the Road? All of these have been directed by Cuarón and Salles. It should be exciting to see what vintage is round the corner.

*OK, he's Spanish, but there is a crossover due to the shared lingua franca.

Che, during his T-shirt modelling phase

Recommended filmography (under the title with which they were released in the UK):

21 Grams (A car crash links a Christian ex-con, a terminally ill academic and a former junkie housewife)

Amores perros (Another car crash links a dog-fighting youth, an unfaithful publisher and his model girlfriend, and a tramp assassin)

Babel (3 unrelated stories set in Morocco, Japan and USA/ Mexico)

Behind the Sun (A young man is forced into an ancient family feud which will surely kill him)

Biutiful (A single parent struggles with his conscience over recent events and his terminal illness)

Central do Brasil (Exploring the relationship between a lost boy and a disillusioned middle-aged woman)

Che (Two-part chronicling of Guevara's role in The Cuban Revolution, and the failed Bolivian attempt)

City of God (Winding epic about gang violence in the Rio favelas)

Linha de Passe (Four half brothers struggle to escape a favela's poverty through football, religion, work/ theft and bus driving, while their pregnant mother tries to continue living)

The Motorcycle Diaries (Charts Ernesto 'Che' Guevara's youthful trip across the continent as he witnesses poverty and injustice)

Pan’s Labyrinth (Fantasy horror set in the Spanish Civil War)

Y Tu Mamá También (Two youths and a Spanish woman go on a road trip, finding out more about themselves than the Mexican countryside)

Review: Hitchcock

Hitchcock is a study of the person behind the legend. Director Sacha Gervasi has attempted to paint an in-depth portrait of Alfred Hitchcock, using the filming of Psycho as his background. Also explored is the relationship with Hitchcock’s wife, who played a significant role in his productions. Gervasi has certainly managed to create an entertaining couple of hours, but I feel underwhelmed by such a lightweight treatment of this cinematically-profound subject.

Ed Gein, psychopathic murderer and inspiration for Norman Bates, is introduced as a representation of Hitchcock’s inner-self. Gein flits in and out of affairs to give the director parcels of wisdom. Now I’m no Freud, but it seems unwise to take relationship advice from a man who made belts out of people. While interesting, it is an exaggerated attempt to explore Hitchcock’s subconscious. For all that he would approve of artistic licence for dramatic effect, the comparison is a bit silly. It is representative of this superficial dissection of the personality: nothing is added that we didn’t know already.

The excellent acting is largely what holds the film together, even if the business of famous actors playing famous actors is like luvvies’ charades. Anthony Hopkins is a forceful screen presence as the master of suspense, balancing physical similarity with an intriguing replication of the personality. The prosthetics department must have worked overtime, because his every bloated movement perfectly imitates the great director. But the subtleties of his acting are what really bring the man to life. Helen Mirren plays his long-suffering spouse, Alma, revisiting her great creative influence. It is Mirren’s talented emotional range which conjures the woman, so the lack of facial resemblance isn’t an issue. Scarlett Johansson doesn’t look much like Janet Leigh either (perhaps the make-up budget had all been blown on Hopkins’ jowls), although her outpouring of glamour and charisma render this point moot. James D’Arcy transforms so uncannily into Anthony Perkins that people will surely start seeing him as Norman Bates.

Comparison must be made with The Girl, the recent HBO TV film, which focused on Hitchcock’s relationship with Tippi Hedren when filming The Birds. That production laboured the point that he was an evil sleazebag, but it did evoke more powerfully the dangerous effects of genius. Toby Jones was Hitchcock, and didn’t look the part nearly as much as Hopkins. I preferred the latter, who presented a better all-round character.

Hitchcock is a shallow handling of a fascinating personality, a routine establishing of facts. His cinematic genius isn’t explored nearly enough, we are simply told that he was a bit of a maverick. So the making of Psycho is not fully shown: a film that changed cinema is made to seem like just another box-office success, important characters appearing only momentarily. The exploration of Alma’s vital role is long overdue and thus welcome. Overall, it is an entertaining look at Hitchcock’s many flaws, but to be honest, kind of meaningless. I’d recommend just watching Psycho: it’s pretty decent.

Most Droll

Review: Bullhead

Rundskop is the latest delectable offering from Belgian cinema, a film community which has offered us such timeless classics as... er...

OK fair enough, perhaps Bullhead doesn’t instantly seem like a masterpiece of entertainment. Two-hour biographies of the Belgian meat industry rarely are. And it has subtitles: might as well just read a book. But this film isn’t actually a study of the fulfilment of Flemish sausage quotas, it’s about gangsters. Like a pork-and-sage Scarface. Farmers use illegal narcotics to enhance their animals’ size and worth, protecting their racket with violence and intimidation. With the current international horsemeat scandal, the idea doesn’t seem so strange. But then it turns out not to be about that really either. Remove the narrative fat, and Bullhead becomes a study of small-town politics, personal crisis and emotional trauma. Meathead Jacky Vanmarsenille is the protagonist, a steroid-pumped agricultural enforcer, Flanders’ Al Capone, whose gangster paradise is stunned after the local murder of an anti-mafia cop.

An unknown childhood ordeal twisted Jacky’s soul, and now he is a hormone-ingesting brawler, tormented by some serious insecurity surrounding his masculinity. The incident is revealed later, in what is probably the most harrowing scene that I’ve witnessed in cinema. Throughout the sprawling, complex plot, he finds himself increasingly hunted and paranoid as the police reign in mob activity. Maybe the E.U. as well, up from Brussels, meddling in things (the Faragian reading). Matthias Schoenaerts plays Jacky like De Niro in Raging Bull, a stormy bundle of testosterone who fights himself as much as his adversaries. His physical movements even resemble a bull. In a sense, the film is a portrayal of man’s propensity to behave bestially.

The brute of Jacky has been created by this world of feuding and betrayal. Director Michael Roskam has managed to induce the rural community with uneasy acumen. Its brutality, conservatism and inwardness become stifling. Only the bumbling idiocy of two Walloon buffoon car mechanics offers any joviality. Racism and homophobia are a given in the static countryside of quiet farms and stale restaurants, where everyone is as grey as John Major in Spitting Image. But the nefarious criminality surfaces periodically to butcher the idyllic tranquillity. Shady local Del Boys network over steaks that would surely make a Tesco horse burger look Waitrose.

The viewer is forced to endure an intense story that will leave them with plenty to chew on. The pace of Bullhead, as can so often be the case in world cinema, is the antithesis of Hollywood’s supersonic storylines. Instead, it is pensive, pausing to digest both the splendour and wretchedness of life. The audience will have a strong emotional contract with the film: it is moving, whether in a positive or negative way is for you to decide.

Art in Cinema: Expressionism

As an art form, Expressionism existed before moving pictures had even been developed, most notably in painting and poetry. It distorted reality, sometimes hideously, to evoke moods and emotions not dramatically portrayable in a conservative or classical fashion. These aesthetics and ideas had a huge impact on cinema as it burgeoned, most notably in the 1920s in Germany, with a legacy that remains to this day.

In the 1920s, German Expressionism was a dominant international genre of cinema, and one which became very influential. Phantom, M., Metropolis, Nosferatu, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari are perhaps the most famous. As its name would suggest, it drew directly from Expressionism. Stylistically, the warped shapes translated on-screen to promote a feeling of fevered excess. Buildings are slanted, walls jagged. The lighting is haunting chiaroscuro: dark and light juxtaposed in extremity. Even the characters are fevered in personality and appearance, because they are victims of hypnosis and mental illness. These aesthetics were all expressionist: visuals representing the internal.

Madness expressed on Peter Lorre's tortured face in M., a perfect example of the internal forced outward

The twisted scenery is like an unsettling Expressionist painting: life is not supposed to appear realistic, rather one facet of it is exaggerated to allow the audience to really feel it 

The silent epic Metropolis is a notable example, about a dystopian industrial city. It taps into ideas of Modernism, a type of Expressionism which took a dynamic vision of a powerful new age. It should be noted that this modernity was usually negative in Expressionist cinema, foreshadowing the rise of Fascism. Fritz Lang’s powerful tale M., about a child killer, was said to represent national fears about the uncontrollable rise of the far-right.

Notice the similarities between this futurist sculpture by Italian artist Umberto Boccioni...

...and the robot in Metropolis.

This genre was linked with the formation of horror of the 1920s, which benefited from and exaggerated the fevered nightmare of twisted aesthetics and appalling evil of its characters. Nosferatu and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari are the two most famous examples.

Terrifying chiaroscuro to demonstrate evil: the ill-intent of the character is projected out onto the shadows

This twisted cityscape from Dr. Caligari similarly represents the character's internal nightmare.

This in turn led into the horror of early 1930s Hollywood- the first era of sound horror. It also drew on the Gothic, taking its elements which matched the terrifying visuals of Expressionism. Films like Dracula and Frankenstein are so famous that they are clichés, stripped of any real terror. They influenced the horror genre thereon as it evolved, so any movie that you see now like Saw can be traced back to early Expressionism.

A new horror: This castle scene from Dracula is an aesthetic cocktail of German Expressionism as above...

...and this Gothic painting by Romantic artist Caspar Friedrich

German Expressionism span in another direction: Film Noir. An immensely popular genre (some would say more of a style), this was around in the 1940s and 1950s in Hollywood, appropriating the sombre visuals of Expressionism to reflect contemporary fears of Nazism, Communism, domestic transformation and global upheaval. Many of the directors of the early Expressionism, like Fritz Lang and Robert Siodmak, went to Hollywood and pioneered Noir.

A grotesque Orson Welles in the final Noir, Touch of Evil. Visually, it is not hard to see the inspiration

The Third Man

The Big Combo's Finale
Ending: Pinnacle of  Noir Expressionism.
Film: Nothing special.

The greatest ever director, Alfred Hitchcock, borrowed heavily from German Expressionism (or ‘was inspired by’, whatever you’d rather say). He was learning his trade as Expressionism ripped through European cinema, and if it made an impression (expression?) on him, then its surely worth its suspense salt.

M.? Actually, it's The Man Who Knew Too Much (the original, not the more famous remake- James Stewart had a different look)

A real gothic image in The Lodger

Incredibly famous still from Hitchcock's crowning glory, Psycho

Which is very similar to Edvard Much's equally recognisable Expressionist painting The Scream. Both of these images express the total horror of emotional trauma, but were created almost 70 years apart.

In recent decades, examples of Expressionism’s legacy are numerous. Horror, of course, is one: the gothic genre is still around, like last year's The Woman in Black. Neo-Noir films, like Drive, L.A. Confidential and Chinatown, all consciously mimic Noir, and so unconsciously do the same with the previous decades of Expressionism.

A far cry from Nosferatu...

...but a descendant nonetheless

Science fiction extended ideas of futurism, although usually with a dystopian slant, just as it did in Metropolis.

Blade Runner's city

An update of Metropolis'?

Tim Burton is a modern filmmaker who draws directly on the unsettling visuals of early Expressionism, his often leading man Johnny Depp providing the bizarre characters that Peter Lorre could once have played

Perhaps cinema hasn't changed quite so much. The right hand image is much like the above still of Dr. Caligari, while the left could be any monster of early horror.

So Expressionism, with its warped reality, its haunted insides forced out, and its terrified look forward, found a haven in cinema. Although it peaked decades ago, the legacy of Expressionist cinema should not be underestimated, infiltrating in ways which we do not realise.