In Contention

Author: Guy Lodge

  • AMPAS does the 3D thang

    Don’t panic, they’re not instituting a new Oscar category for Best Achievement In Three Dimensions. (Yet.) But they are acknowledging the ubiquitous trend with a three-part showcase titled “Getting Perspective III: Exploring the Craft of 3D Movie Technology.” Taking place every Tuesday evening between June 22 and July 6, the showcase will comprise panel discussions, demonstrations and screenings devoted to the technology.

    The first part, “Virtual 3D,” will be dedicated to digitally-created 3D, covering key-frame animation and performance capture, amongst other things. The director and effects magician of “G-Force” — no less — will be on hand to further the discussion, so miss it at your peril.

    Part two, “Photographed 3D,” will cover the technology in a live-action context, touching on documentary, stop-motion animation and post-production, with guests including “Coraline” DP Pete Kozachik. The showcase will close simply with a screening of the landmark, self-explanatory 2008 concert doc “U2 3D” — well worth a look from a technical standpoint, whether you’re a fan of the band or not — with an accompanying discussion with the film’s director, DP and editor.

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  • PAGE TO SCREEN: “Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert

    (Apologies for the delay in posting this column. Page to Screen will return to its regular Tuesday spot next week.)

    Chick-lit, the unflatteringly named brand of light confessional writing intended to universalize the problems of modern professional women, has been a beast of a publishing phenomenon since the near-simultaneous arrival on the scene of Helen Fielding’s “Bridget Jones’s Diary” and Candace Bushnell’s “Sex and the City” in the late 1990s.

    Marked by clear Transatlantic cultural differences, those volumes were nonetheless linked by their semi-autobiographical nature, their urban media milieu, a similar issue slate of sex, career, mild vice and the ongoing hunt for Mr. Right/Darcy/Big and a tone of chatty journalese – both, after all, were spinoffs of popular newspaper columns.

    They also have one other crucial thing in common: massively successful screen translations that continue to bear fruit. A third big-screen Bridget Jones outing is currently in the works, and you may have heard something about a film called “Sex and the City 2” this summer.

    In Fielding and Bushnell’s wake, then, have come a legion of female writers and journalists converting their personal experiences into bestseller status and swift deals with Hollywood: the success of such titles as “The Devil Wears Prada,” “Julie & Julia,” “Confessions of a Shopaholic,” and the male co-authored “He’s Just Not That Into You” hardly discourage the trend. (You could even argue for last year’s “An Education” as an arthouse twist on the formula.)

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  • BAFTA win for Rebecca Hall

    I wouldn’t ordinarily mention the BAFTA Television Awards — generally treated as the ugly sister of February’s film awards ceremony — which were dished out in London tonight, but one win in particular strikes me as worth noting.

    You know by now that I’m a great admirer of Julian Jarrold’s “Red Riding: 1974,” which was released theatrically in the U.S. a few months back, and of Rebecca Hall’s remarkable performance in it. Hall just won a well-deserved Best Supporting Actress BAFTA, and since it’s almost certainly the only awards hardware she’ll end up taking for her work, I thought it worth celebrating. (The whole series, incidentally, did less well than one might have expected, taking only two other craft trophies for cinematography and costume design.)

    Other film-related wins include Samantha Morton’s strong directorial debut “The Unloved” — also treated as a theatrical feature outside the UK — for Best Single Drama, and a triple trophy haul for “The Thick of It,” the sitcom that mothered 2009 Oscar nominee “In the Loop.” Huzzahs all round. Full list of winners here, if you’re interested.

  • UK poster and trailer for ‘White Material’

    Yes, I’m still pimping this. The runaway best film of 2010 (or 2009, depending on when you saw it) finally drops in the UK on July 2 — I’m already itching for another look. The trailer, after the cut, is much the same as the French one I featured in March, with the addition of subtitles and a choice Brit critic’s quote. (The quality is iffy, I’m afraid, but it’s the only link I could find.)

    American readers, IFC is looking after you, but no release date is scheduled yet.

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  • PAGE TO SCREEN: “Brighton Rock” by Graham Greene

    Welcome to 2010’s first installment of Page to Screen, our summer series in which I spotlight the source material behind some of the year’s most notable forthcoming adaptations.

    After a spectacularly prescient 2009 season – in which I blew my load over “Chéri,” largely dismissed the awards potential of “Up in the Air” and didn’t even notice “A Single Man” hovering in the wings – I’m all set to further prove the vast creative chasm that can lie between paper and celluloid, amplified by the fact that this year presently looks shorter on prestige literary adaptations than most.

    When in doubt, however, it is best to begin with a classic – and if there are many 2010 titles adapted from classier sources than Graham Greene’s 1938 novel “Brighton Rock,” I am not yet aware of them.

    “An Entertainment” is the rather perverse subtitle Greene attached to his novel on its initial publication, thus distinguishing it from what he regarded as more serious literary output; he could be as snootily blasé about his own oeuvre as a studio-dabbling auteur. Certainly, the descriptor isn’t unmerited: “Brighton Rock” is a tight, terse little underworld thriller, easily devoured in a single day of reading, with a blatant view, even then, toward the mainstream movie-house.

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  • Del Toro hobbles ‘Hobbit’

    You’ve probably heard the news by now, but in case you haven’t, here’s a précis via Variety:

    Guillermo Del Toro has dropped out directing “The Hobbit” movies due to the ongoing delays in getting the films greenlit. Del Toro made the surprise announcement Sunday on The One Ring web site, adding that he will continue to co-write the screenplays based on J.R.R Tolkien’s “The Hobbit.”

    “It’s not greenlit,” he told reporters. “That’s categorical. We’ve been caught in a very tangled negotiation. There cannot be any start dates until the MGM situation gets resolved. They do hold a considerable portion of the rights.”

    I appear to be the only — well, maybe not the only — person on the internet not crushed by this news, so feel free to vent and speculate in the comments. Who would you like to see take up the reins? I hear rumors it’s a close-run thing between Béla Tarr and Brett Ratner.

  • Jennifer Lawrence would like to remind you she’s hot

    Assuming (and I am assuming) that the film remains in the conversation, Kris and I will be at loggerheads all season over “Winter’s Bone” — I am a fan, he is emphatically not. What we do agree on, however, is that the film’s 19-year-old star, Jennifer Lawrence, is the real deal.

    Actually, we agreed on this point a year ago, when Lawrence emerged as the standout of a strong ensemble in Guillermo Arriaga’s “The Burning Plain.” The film went largely unseen, but those who did get round to it were consequently less surprised than everyone else by the actress’s remarkable, film-carrying turn in this year’s Sundance Grand Jury Prize champ.

    Back in February, in a published conversation with The Film Experience’s Nathaniel Rogers, I unwisely put my neck on the block by predicting a 2010 Best Actress Oscar nomination for Lawrence — and while the market for female Oscar contenders in bleak indies is already getting crowded, what with Lesley Manville and Michelle Williams in the mix, I’m sticking by that still-premature call. As I wrote to Nathaniel then: “[I]t’s such a mammoth performance, plus she’s young and hot.”

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  • INTERVIEW: ‘Father of My Children’ director Mia Hansen-Løve

    As film critics continue to pick over the spoils of Cannes 2010, for regular cinemagoers, it can take an awfully long time for the movies in question to trickle down to them.

    Case in point: Mia Hansen-Løve’s remarkable sophomore feature “Father of My Children,” which impressed critics and won a special jury prize in the Un Certain Regard strand a year ago, but is only now wending its way to U.S. theaters. It opened last week in Los Angeles; tomorrow, New Yorkers get to lay eyes on it.

    They’ll find it worth the wait. “Father of My Children,” which I reviewed out of the London Film Festival last October, is a marvelously mutable, personal study of family and film, beginning as a story about one thing and ending as quite another. Reviews and marketing materials may make it difficult to remain innocent of a key mid-film development — not a “twist” by any means, but a turn that entirely shifts and deepens the focus of the narrative — that floored me on my first encounter with the film. (I’ve done my best to keep it wrapped, but will insert a spoiler alert anyway.)

    This much I can tell you: the film is inspired by, and ultimately something of a tribute to, the late Humbert Balsan, a prolific French film producer and renowned champion of the arthouse. Before his premature death in 2005, he shepherded works by the likes of Lars von Trier, Claire Denis, James Ivory and Béla Tarr, but also acted as mentor to rising talents — the young Hansen-Løve, then an aspiring filmmaker and sometime Cahiers du Cinéma critic, among them.

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  • CANNES: Starfish and coffee

    “Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye,” you might have thought (or even sang, in gravelly Leonard Cohen tones) after my rushed response to yesterday’s Cannes winners. But having recharged overnight with a hearty curry and a good 13 hours’ sleep, it’s time to properly put a bow on Cannes 2010.

    Perhaps it was quite a Tim Burton-flavored festival after all. Jury presidents at Cannes often seem at pains to choose the last film anyone would associate with their own work — which is partly why I picked the sober ecclesiastical drama “Of Gods and Men” for the Palme — but Burton and his cohorts swung in a quirkier direction. “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives,” which I flippantly likened to a parallel-universe take on Burton’s own “Big Fish,” becomes the first fantasy film (of a type) to take gold at Cannes since “Miracle in Milan” almost 60 years ago. (More surprisingly, it’s also first Asian winner since 1997.)

    I wish I could personally groove to the film the way almost everyone else does (my C+ grade sticks out like a sore thumb on indieWIRE’s critic score roundup) but objectively speaking, it’s the best choice Team Burton could have made for the Palme: the undisputed critical favorite of the festival, a wholly unique, challenging piece from a distinctive major auteur, and a film that can truly benefit from the award in securing international distribution that could prove elusive otherwise. Plus, it won me £50 on a Palme bet I made weeks before the fest started. I’m liking the film more already.

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  • ‘Uncle Boonmee,’ Bardem, Binoche take gold at Cannes

    No prizes for guessing which award here makes me happiest. I’m quite proud of having semi-called (who sees a tie coming, anyway?) Elio Germano for Best Actor — didn’t hear anybody else mentioning his name. Also got the top two prizewinners, just in reverse order. More discussion later, but for now, I have a dinner appointment to keep. The list of winners:

    Palme d’Or: “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives”

    Grand Prix: “Of Gods and Men”

    Best Actor: (tie) Javier Bardem, “Biutiful” and Elio Germano, “La Nostra Vita”

    Best Actress: Juliette Binoche, “Certified Copy”

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  • CANNES: What will win… and what should

    Okay, so that took longer than I expected. I had hoped to get this post up last night, but instead got quite easily talked into a night on the tiles with a band of merry Film Dweebs led by James Rocchi — not the wisest idea with a morning flight to catch, but by the time we found ourselves in a friendly 3am chat with Atom Egoyan about our respective issues with the ending of “Chloe,” that hardly seemed important. (Name dropped and duly picked up. Apologies.)

    Anyway, after a smooth morning’s traveling, I am now writing to you from my North London living room — not quite as glamorous as the Croisette, though surprisingly, just as sun-splashed.

    In a few hours, Cannes 2010 will come to a close as Tim Burton and his fellow jurors reveal their selections for the best of the fest, perhaps shedding some light on the burning question I’ve asked myself after every Competition screening: “But what does Kate Beckinsale think?”

    (More analysis, and full list of predictions and preferences, after the cut.)

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  • ‘On Tour,’ ‘Of Gods,’ ‘HaHaHa’ take early Cannes prizes

    The big guns, the Competition jury, announce their prizewinners tomorrow night, but ahead of that, there are a host of smaller, independent juries making their voices heard.

    I’ve just returned from the Un Certain Regard award ceremony, a short, sweet tuxedoes-and-sneakers affair presided over by UCR jury president Claire Denis. As delighted as I was to see one of our greatest living filmmakers in the (tiny) flesh, I was less pleased with her team’s selection — by handing their top prize to Hong Sangsoo’s wispy romcom “HaHaHa,” they continued an increasingly disconcerting trend whereby films that I walk out of at major festivals are handsomely rewarded. (Hey, I wasn’t alone: James Rocchi bailed too.)

    The Ecumenical Jury got that memo, too, handing their top prize to another film I didn’t finish, Xavier Beauvois’s “Of Gods and Men.” Of course, that was a gimme — if you don’t know, the Ecumenical Jury Prize was established in 1974 by a group of Christian film professionals to reward expressions of faith and/or humanism in Competition. How was the true-life tragedy of monk massacre in Algeria not going to win?

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  • CANNES: All things being sequel

    I began my final day in Cannes with some dutiful, and not greatly anticipated, ticking of boxes, taking in my last two Competition screenings back-to-back this morning.

    That brings my final tally to an elegantly symmetrical 14 and 1/4 films seen of the 19 selected. (That sneaky fraction represents my fatigue-induced walkout on the bookies’ Palme d’Or favorite “Of Gods and Men.” Quelle dommage.)

    I was shooting for a 100% record when I arrived, but scheduling conflicts and screening shutouts conspired against me. As it stands, of the ones I missed, only “The Housemaid” is really nagging at me.

    I’ll post some thoughts on the runners and riders for the Competition gold later today; tonight, however, brings the Un Certain Regard award ceremony, where Claire Denis (hurrah) and her jury will reveal what they deem the best of the festival’s B-league. I’m doing even less well on the UCR front, having caught only 11 of the 19 selections, though the promising-on-paper lineup has generated surprisingly few talking points across the festival.

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  • CANNES: ‘Life, Above All,’ ‘Tender Son,’ ‘Cameraman’

    “It is finished so soon?” asked the chipper French festival volunteer manning the theater doors as I slunk out of Hong Sangsoo’s “Hahaha” just before 11pm. No, I explained — it had a good hour left to go.

    “Is it that boring?” he asked. No, I explained — it wasn’t that boring. Modestly boring. Sweetly boring, if you will. But it wasn’t making any effort to grab me, even gently.

    So, as my bum knee began to twinge in protest at yet another couple of hours locked at a 90 degree angle, I realized that what I really needed was to be outside a movie theater for the rest of the night, to buy a Grand Marnier ice-cream cone from the excellent gelateria by the Grand Palais, and to go eat it barefoot on the beach. I told the volunteer as much, minus a few extraneous details. He nodded sympathetically.

    “I understand,” he said. “I’ve watched some of the films. What you’re saying is that they have no … no balls, you mean?”

    Ladies and gentlemen, a great critic is born.

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  • CANNES: Machinists, masochists and monkey ghosts

    “Are you eating at all? Are you sleeping? You don’t look like you are,” observed our good friend Anne Thompson yesterday afternoon, her face etched with motherly concern, before whisking me off for a hearty al fresco meal.

    I wanted to tell Anne that I tend to cut a pretty gaunt figure even on my best days — but having just read someone on AwardsDaily noting my allegedly striking resemblance to Christian Bale in “The Machinist,” I had to concede that festival fatigue may have hit me pretty hard.

    But hey, the Mayor of Cannes is holding a Provençal lunch for the festival press tomorrow afternoon in the old town quarter, so I won’t keel over just yet. If there’s one lesson I’ve learnt at the festival, it’s that there’s always such a thing as a free lunch.

    If you weren’t tipped off by the fact that I’ve spent 150 words musing on matters of alimentation rather than movies, Cannes 2010 is beginning to wind down. Much of the U.S. press contingent (including Anne, Jeff Wells and Sasha Stone) have gone home, the hot movies — such as they were — have been unveiled and the crowds have thinned out to the extent that even a lowly yellow-badger like me can rock up two minutes before a screening and enter without hassle.

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  • SHORT TAKE: “Fair Game” (***)

    Cannes Film Festival

    The presence of Doug Liman’s name in the Cannes competition lineup has inspired many an unkind crack from an idle critic — this writer couldn’t resist a couple himself. There can’t have been many filmmakers to enter that lofty club immediately after a film as uniformly reviled as “Jumper,” an inept high-concept blockbuster that drowned Liman’s flip, clever-clever personality in lumbering effects and noise.

    Coming to Cannes, then, he has a dual point to prove: not only that he can hold his own among arthouse titans, but that he can even stand up against his own previous (now rather distant) best work.

    Has he succeeded? Well, yes and no. Liman has chosen something of a lazy shortcut back to respectability: a biopic, of an honorable-lefty martyr figure, with just enough Washington-thriller varnish not to frighten the horses. It’s certainly a curious choice as the lone representative of U.S. cinema in the world’s foremost international film contest, but it’s oddly appropriate, too: this is down-the-middle Hollywood craftsmanship, short on innovation and revelation, but effective and engrossing with it. For better or worse, there’s nothing else like this in Competition.

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  • ‘Another Year’ goes to Sony Pictures Classics

    Mike Leigh’s latest, easily the consensus critical darling of Cannes thus far, was never going to have trouble finding a U.S. distributor — the only question was whether it would be the equally plausible candidates Focus or Sony who got there first. As ScreenDaily reported earlier today, it’s the latter:

    Sony Pictures Classics has acquired North American rights from Focus Features International (FFI) to Mike Leigh’s much fancied Palme d’Or contender Another Year.

    FFI chief Alison Thompson concluded the deal with the Sony Pictures Classics team of Tom Bernard, Michael Barker and Dylan Leiner at around midnight on Tuesday [18].

    Another Year will open towards the end of the year and Bernard and Barker are likely to give it an awards push.

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  • CANNES: ‘Blue Valentine,’ ‘Tamara Drewe,’ ‘Film Socialisme’

    Sadly, this is looking like a second consecutive day of minimal film viewing — thanks to the scheduling of my morning roundtable interview with the “Blue Valentine” team of Ryan Gosling, Michelle Williams and director Derek Cianfrance, I had to forgo this morning’s screening of Lee Chang-dong’s “Poetry,” of which I have rather high expectations — I hope to catch the repeat tomorrow.

    Meanwhile, the interviews ran late enough to ensure I missed today’s hottest ticket: Olivier Assayas’s five-and-a-half hour “Carlos.” On the one hand, I’m obviously disappointed. On the other, 330 minutes is a pretty lavish gift of time, and it’s thanks to that that I’m able to write this very piece.

    So, to every cloud a silver lining and all that — and there are a lot of clouds doing the rounds on this uncharacteristically damp and chilly day in Cannes. Perhaps the sun saw that monk-massacre movie everyone’s raving about, and couldn’t see the point in continuing.

    On with the review catch-up.

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