The Importance Of A Patient Heart

A beautiful, touching short film from Greece, with a very important message.

A Brief Encounter With Trevor Howard

Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson in David Lean's classic,
Brief Encounter (1945)

When I was 16 years old, my agent called and offered me a couple of days work on the television drama, Miss Marple. By this point, I had started having an aversion to appearing in period dramas set in the early half of the 20th. Century, because it always entailed having to have a short, back and sides haircut, which was particularly unwelcome for a teenage boy trying to be current in the 1980s! I did once have an outburst with a make-up artist on the period production, The House Of Elliot, when she seemed to be going out of her way to lose me street cred.

Apart from the loss of hair, which has since naturally occurred, it was fun to work on these productions. To dress as our relatives of the past once did, and to walk about sets designed to invoke days long gone, always offered many interesting insights.

The episode of Miss Marple that I appeared in, was being guest starred by the fine British actress, Helen Cherry. I had no idea who her husband was, until someone on the catering bus pointed out a shuffling, stooping old man, wearing the sort of hat that fishing hobbyists like. He looked battered by years of drinking and bad health.

Someone announced that it was Trevor Howard, which was met with some scorns of doubt. Could this man be the great character actor, who had starred in such films as Brief Encounter, The Third Man, Charge Of The Light Brigade, Mutiny On The Bounty, Ryan's Daughter and The Battle Of Britain? Indeed, it was.

Trevor Howard belongs in the highest echelons of British cinema. He stands shoulder to shoulder with such great luminaries as Lawrence Olivier, Richard Burton, Richard Harris, John Mills and Ralph Richardson. However, seeing this frail old man was startling. It was difficult to imagine that he was the same dapper star that had appeared in so many classics, with a fiery reputation for creating turmoil on set.

I feel ashamed to admit this now, but in my youth I collected autographs. For a child, who had many opportunities to meet the famous, it was fun to collect those silly pieces of paper with ink scrawled upon them. In hindsight, it is a very odd thing to collect. However, this was an excuse for me to approach Howard, who was sitting in his small car, seeming to be staring out at nothing. I felt some trepidation, because he was infamous for being extremely difficult.

I approached his car, dressed in my 50's costume, and tapped on the side window. He opened the door and looked at me. I asked him very politely if he would be kind enough to sign the piece of paper I had in my hand. He didn't say anything, but graciously he wrote his name and passed the paper back to me. I thanked him, and that was where our brief encounter ended.

Sadly, Trevor Howard died shortly afterwards in 1988. His wife, Helen Cherry, followed him in 2001.

For a biography visit Turner's Films.

9/11 - Are We Really Ready For Hollywood's Take?

It appears that Hollywood believes we are ready to revisit the terrors of 9/11. There was always an inevitability that this would happen sooner or later, but so soon after is rather surprising. Perhaps, the suits in Tinseltown feel that they can provide a catharsis for those still emotionally reeling from the shock of that most tumultuous of days.

The first of this series of interpretations is United 93, directed by Peter Greengrass. This incredible film focuses upon the hijacking of the United Airlines' aircraft that failed to reach the terrorists' target, perhaps due to the bravery of the passengers onboard.

Right from the start, Greengrass throws us into a very real world, applying the qualities of documentary filmmaking techniques, with its raw video footage, shaking camera and sudden pans.

All this is further enhanced by his choice to use unknown actors. The characters they play do not fit into the standard overblown parameters of Hollywood design. These are normal people doing normal things on a day that became quite unlike any other. There are no John Waynes here.

United 93 provides the viewer with a very real interpretation - and let's not forget that it is an interpretation - of the events that led to the aircraft slamming into a field in Pennsylvania. Politics is left out, as it should be, because politics had little importance for those involved until after the tragedy occurred. The passengers on that flight had no time to be concerned about the then virtually unknown Osama bin Laden; their concern was not about ideology, but rather survival in the moment.

The narrative of the story is based upon various sources, including the communication between the passengers and family members through in flight telephones and mobile devices. What seems certain is that as knowledge spread about the attacks on the World Trade Centre, the passengers on United 93 took it upon themselves to revolt against the hijackers. It certainly appears that they succeeded, albeit with tragic results.

United 93 is a remarkable film that would be considered a masterpiece of filmmaking, even if its subject matter were not so emotive and real. It certainly treats its subject matter with the gravity, terror and appropriateness that it deserves. By being extremely unconventional in filmmaking terms, it succeeds in dealing with the issues in a mature, honest and respectful way, that provides a valuable record of those fateful events.

Oliver Stone's World Trade Centre is everything that United 93 is not. This is very much the work of a Hollywood director. Stone, who is widely considered a maverick filmmaker, is nonetheless one of the key contributors to modern cinematic form. His influence hinders him here, because he has made a piece that attempts to step out from conventional filmmaking, but fails entirely, because his idea of the unconventional has now become conventional. This is pure Hollywood from beginning to end.

His film focuses upon the true story of two policemen, who miraculously survive under the rubble of one of the collapsed towers. The film works at its best, while it is building up to the attack. In the title sequence, Stone presents a regular New York morning, where people are commuting to their offices for what they believe will be a routine day. The normalcy that Stone invokes is highly unsettling, as we can knowingly contrast it with the horror that inevitably is about to befall the city.

Perhaps, the biggest fault with the film is the casting of Nicholas Cage. Cage is an actor who is inconsistent in performance and range. He is also somewhat of a fixture in Hollywood Royalty. In World Trade Centre he acts his heart out, and would be utterly acceptable if the events had been fictional. However, his familiarity distracts the viewer from the reality behind the film. It would have been far more successful, if an unknown had been cast: somebody who does not cast a shadow like Cage, but is someone more like ourselves.

There are many technically brilliant moments in Stone's film. In particular, the moments leading to the tower's collapse are eerie and effective.

Stone's dedication, sympathy and awareness for what occurred on 9/11 is not in question. But, his film ends up appearing as somewhat of a slick imperfect beast that leaves a tingling sensation of voyeuristic guilt for watching it.

During the advertising campaign for the movie, footage of the building imploding within was shown incessantly, proving to us all how great Hollywood effects have become, but at the same time acting as a bait to feed our unabated curiosity and fascination with 9/11. It seems that Stone's intention is to provide us with a simulation of a different, new vantage point than the one we were given on the various news channels in 2001. Stone has a reputation for insensitivity. He certainly provided enough repeated blown up footage of Kennedy's head being split apart by Oswald's bullet in his film, JFK.

Rather interestingly, while contrasting the films, Stone's is a dull, overlong affair, whilst Greengrass's never let's up on the tension. Possibly, this is more likely due to differences in the use and balance of narrative supposition. Stone seems incapable of (or disinterested in) retaining the focus on the two police officer's plight, seemingly finding a reprieve from Cage's monotone ramblings, by shifting the story to the anguish of his worried wife.

Certainly, if the same filmmaking techniques of Greengrass's film had been applied, then perhaps, the immediacy of the policemen's claustrophobic nightmare would have felt more engaging and relevant. Another successful example of a film capturing intense fear, was the independent film Open Water. Like United 93, Open Water is raw filmmaking with no sheen, and this easily manipulates the audience into being able to empathise with the plight of the characters. We feel that we are also partaking in their suffering as our sight of line follows that of the bobbing camera that rolls with each wave of the sea.

Both United 93 and World Trade Centre portray a day that most of us hope will not be repeated; although, there seems to be an inevitability that worst things are coming. The 9/11 atrocity was an event that has been numerously compared to a cinematic experience, because of the media coverage that followed it, and the ingenuity of the terrorists to perpetrate such a spectacular attack. 9/11 should only be told in a way that manages to recapture the rawness and chaos of that news network footage that remains so indelibly in our memories.

Review: Hotel Rwanda

From April to July in 1994, human beings managed to once again tap into their base nature and bring about horrors that had not been seen since the barbaric atrocities of Pol Pot in Cambodia.

During this horrendous chapter, the world sat back and allowed the killing to continue, mainly out of fear of being embroiled in a regional conflict that had no importance to their own national security: If there had been oil and other resources, perhaps, the story may have been different. The situation is chillingly similar to the current crisis in Darfur, Sudan.

Hotel Rwanda is an exceptional movie that truly captures the increasing pressures and horrors that a sudden conflict can bring upon a society.

Based on a true story, the film focuses upon a hotel manager, Paul Rusesabagina, played by the brilliant Don Cheadle. His life, prior to the war, is one that is preoccupied by pleasing people. He offers bribes of fine whiskey and Cuban cigars to high officials, in the hope of securing a good future for his family. His life is rapidly altered by the events that swamp his country.

The film is extraordinary in the way it summarises the reasons for the carnage in Rwanda. The Hutus, who represent 88% of the population, and the Tutsi, who represent 11%, had a long history of antagonism towards each other. Much of this was based on tribal distinctions established by Belgian colonisation. In 1994, within a three month period, around 1 million people were slaughtered.

Hotel Rwanda is very similar in direction and production to The Killing Fields. The audience is taken on a terrifying journey where society breaks down rapidly, and where the illogical is allowed to rule. Enemies of the aggressors are labelled as 'cockroaches' and exterminated as such, with machetes and knives.

The director, Terry George, who also co-wrote the screenplay, brilliantly invokes the violence and fear to such a point that all governments and people should feel shame for what had been allowed to occur. Too easily, Rwanda was marginalised at convenience for some world leaders. Hotel Rwanda clearly aims to neutralise any efforts to make the Rwandan genocide forgotten.

Throughout the film, there are many gruelling scenes of violence and death. In one particular section, Paul Rusesabagina is trying to return back to his hotel, with much needed supplies, following a road recommended to him by a Hutu marketeer. The vehicle is travelling through dense fog, when suddenly it hits a very uneven, bumpy part of the road. Paul steps outside and discovers a road dense in human carnage.

Don Cheadle's performance is mesmerising. His portrayal of Paul Resesabagina shows a man dedicated to humanity and order, who will try under the most difficult circumstances to retain those qualities at all cost. We are given a template of a very real, non-glamourised hero, who will do whatever it takes to save his family and friends.

Other fine performances come from Joaquin Phoenix as an American reporter, and Nick Nolte as a fictionalised UN colonel, based on the Canadian Lieutenant General, Romeo Dalliare. The bitterness and insanity of the situation is masterfully encapsulated by Nolte. He is a desperate man with exceptionally good intentions, let down by a world that doesn't care.

Hotel Rwanda is a film that instantly sucks the viewer into a reality that we all hope never to experience. This film has a message that must be heard by all.

Downfall & Kingdom Of Heaven: History In Films

With the release of the German-made Downfall and the very Hollywood Kingdom Of Heaven, we are given an opportunity to compare differences of approach in the production of historical dramas.

Downfall is a brilliant piece of sober filmmaking. The director, Oliver Hirschbiegel, in contrast to Ridley Scott's sweeping Crusader epic, retains a low-key, hyper-realistic envisioning of the last days of Hitler, in his bunker below Berlin. The grey tones that smear the screen, compliment the dinginess of the setting, as well as the uniforms of the desperate Nazis.

Each of the German-speaking cast members offer eerily accurate performances that capture the personas of their historical counterparts with chilling effect. Controversy arose at how the film managed to evoke the human side of these most demonised of figures.

In particular, the Swiss actor Bruno Ganz, excels in the role of Hitler, bringing a nuanced, very real portrait. With his subtle ticks, Ganz not once steps into parody; an issue that has plagued previous actors' interpretations. His Hitler is a very real human being, who at times shows politeness and humility to people around him, whilst at other times, expresses the anger of a petulant flawed visionary.

In the opening scene, we are introduced to a very unfamiliar Hitler, as he interviews several young ladies to be his secretary. It is a jarring moment, as we are presented not with the hand-gesturing, podium thumping, raging dictator from newsreels, but rather a quietly spoken, patient, thoughtful man; the antithesis of everything the audience would have seen in previous portrayals.

At one point in the film, his secretary, Traudl Junge (Alexandra Maria Lara) asks Eva Braun (Julianne Kohler), how it is possible that Hitler could be so gentle and compassionate to some people, and yet so brutal to others. Braun replies that it is when Hitler is The Fuehrer that she sees his cruelty.

Some critics have complained that this humanising of the Hitler myth is a dangerous and unnecessary folly that somehow excuses or diminishes the nature of the actions that he cruelly perpetrated. Whilst he is most definitely a figure that does not deserve any sympathetic redemption, he was nonetheless a human being, and it is perhaps this aspect that continues to fascinate us. What kind of person could become so ruthless? What was the personality that lay behind the Holocaust? He remains an inexplicable, destructive anomaly on the conscience of humanity.

Downfall is exquisite in capturing the psychosis of Nazism and its personality cult as it crumbles. Soldiers sit around the bunker getting drunk and planning various methods of suicide, as the Russians close in. The almost manic farce of the situation, encapsulates both the helplessness and the blindness in which they have fallen under Hitler's spell. Magda Goebbels (Corrina Harfouch), the wife of the infamous propagandist, best illustrates the Nazi intoxication, when she stubbornly refuses to release her six children, because she believes that without National Socialism there would be no future for them to live. As a result, in perhaps one of cinema's most chilling scenes of infanticide, she breaks poison capsules in the mouths of her sleeping infants, while her husband stands outside.

Historical interpretation is a risky process that should never be taken lightly, especially when the subject has been the creator of so much cruelty and suffering. However, history should always try to be responsible to the truth, even if the truth is sometimes politically incorrect. Downfall is a thought-provoking film, which approaches its material with appropriate gravitas and responsibility.

Kingdom Of Heaven is a totally different historical beast to Downfall. As fine a director as Ridley Scott is, he is a filmmaker entirely at the mercy of a screenplay. If the screenplay is great, then the always-beautiful Scott imagery is entangled in cinematic perfection, as was the case with Alien, Blade Runner and Thelma And Louise. Unfortunately, on occasion, Scott has found himself creating magnificently handsome-looking films, with very little else on offer within, such as 1492, G.I. Jane and Hannibal. Sadly, Kingdom Of Heaven falls in this latter group.

Kingdom Of Heaven deals with the Crusades of the 13th. Century - a subject that is particularly sensitive in our current political climate. It is surprising to believe that any Hollywood suits would have been prepared to green light a project that focuses on a period of history when Muslim-Christian relations were at their worst, especially as they sink ever further in our present time. That said, the Crusades are a fascinating part of history that deserve to be told on film, preferably without the machismo or intellectual infantilism of Hollywood.

Scott was quite obviously aware of the responsibility that lay upon is shoulders in bringing this film to the screen, at this time. Yet, what is being proclaimed as a historically accurate representation of events, is in fact a politically correct affair, pandering not to offend, and therefore becoming an injustice to history. It comes off as a rather pointless heavy-handed pulpit dialogue with very little meat to chew.

Thespian lightweight, Orlando Bloom, takes on the lead, as yet another blacksmith discovering himself on an unexpected mission. In Pirates Of The Caribbean, he becomes a cutlass swinger of the high seas. Here, he discovers that he is the abandoned son of a major Crusader, played by the always-reliable Liam Neeson. Everything starts well, with an excellent skirmish in a blizzard, very reminiscent of the first battle in Scott's other period drama, Gladiator.

The problems begin when Bloom arrives in Jerusalem. There is so much PC tinkering with historical facts, that the contriving of it all becomes more offensive than if they had just filmed a story that portrayed events as they actually were.

In Scott's tale, the Crusaders that occupy the ancient city are split into two camps; those that fall under the watchful eye of Jeremy Irons, and are pro-relations with Saladin and the Muslims; and the Knights Templar, who are painted as the villains, desperate at all costs to battle against the vast Muslim armies. Historically, there was no such split of positions, as the Crusaders were all unified against the Muslims. It is obvious that Iron's band of merry men have been manufactured to create neutral supposition in the story. And this is one of many blazing annoyances.

A moment towards the end that just stinks of insensitivity trying to feign sensitivity, is when the Muslim leader, Saladin, lifts up a fallen crucifix and places it upon a table. Whilst the great leader may well have had a respect for the religion of his enemies, it is such a forced moment in the film, blaring out idealistic sentiments with all the subtlety of a bullhorn.

The glossiness of Kingdom Of Heaven, even with its attempt to capture the grubbiness of the times with a gloomy dark hue throughout, fails to muster, because it approaches the material with the same superficiality as a children's book about the Crusades.

Of course, there have been many so-called historical dramas that have been produced to merely entertain within the context of a particular period. Unfortunately, the Crusades is a time in history, which is surrounded by controversy that still reverberates today. Kingdom Of Heaven fails to maturely tackle the material, and instead, throws a tale more reminiscent of Lord Of The Rings than history. There is a film still to be made that fully captures the brutality, intensity and insanity of this chapter in our history.

Gink Gonk - The King Kong Parody

For some time, I have been parodying the exploits of Peter Jackson and his crew on the current project, King Kong, at the excellent fansite Kong Is It!

In the persona of a diabolically snobby character actor, called Sir Richard Karlson Ogilvy (aka RKO Classic), I have had an enormous amount of pleasure creating outlandish tales of on-set antics. This has now developed into a blog devoted to Sir Richard and his filmic adventures with Peter Jackson and the gang. So, if you feel inclined, why don't you pop over for a visit to Gink Gonk.

Due to other engagements, I have been unable to post regularly on the Mystic Traveller site. However, expect more posts to come this week, as well as more of my travel photography.

Zombies

As I said in my review of the excellent Shaun Of The Dead, I love zombies. Sure, there have been some atrocious movies in the sub-genre, but such classics as Night Of The Living Dead (1968), Dawn Of The Dead (1979), Day Of The Dead (1985), Zombie Flesh-Eaters (1979), and even the remake of Dawn this year, just keep me enthused about the walking dead.

I am the first to admit, that it is a very odd genre to like, but there is an enormous following for it. Right now, zombies have become profitable. There is something so enticing about the apocalyptic vision of a world taken over by hungry ghouls. I can't explain it, but I could watch hours of this stuff.

When I was ten years old, I first watched a video of Dawn Of The Dead in 1980, at my cousin's home in London. I remember being entranced by particular visceral moments in the film. Soon after, in 1983, the Video Nasties Act was passed in Britain, which led to the banning of many classic horror movies of the time, such as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Evil Dead, and even The Exorcist.

Throughout the dry years, I often thought of the indelible scenes I had seen in those movies as a young child. Luckily, I had a very good friend who later supplied me with grainy, imperfect pirate copies of all those lost classics. All of which I now have on gorgeous DVD.

I had to talk about zombies, because today, I received a positive e-mail about some artwork I posted on a website (the artwork is above). Sorry if it is a bit gory.

Working On A Japanese Movie

Throughout my teens, I was lucky enough to work on a variety of British television and film productions. As a result, I got to meet many accomplished actors and filmmakers. I never could have imagined that someday I would work at a studio in the Land Of The Rising Sun.

Last year, I was given an opportunity to work on a Japanese film, called The Collage Of Our Life, as a dialogue coach to the increasingly famous young actor, Ryuhei Matsuda. It was a fascinating experience, which allowed me to contrast a Japanese set to a Western one.

Ryuhei is a delightful actor to work with. He was only 19 at the time, but a total professional. His father was the hugely popular Japanese actor, Yasuko Matsuda, who unfortunately died, aged 40.

Ryuhei's character was required to speak English for large portions of the movie. This was a major task for him, because he speaks virtually no English at all. Each day, I would either arrive on location or head out to Nikatsu Studios, where I would coach him in pronunciation and intonation. We had a lot of fun in the process, although months of further practice would have been beneficial.

When I was called to work on the production, I was both excited and nervous, because I was not sure of the dynamic of production here in Japan. However, both the cast and crew were charming and embracing. I felt entirely comfortable, and sensed no difference in production style to Britain, other than a general lack of theatrical egos.

A highlight of working on this film, occurred when I arrived early at the studios one day. The assistant director's office was locked, so while I waited for her to come, I sat on some steps outside, reading my newspaper. Suddenly, a large group of extras, dressed in full Samurai regalia, walked passed me to whatever set they were filming on. It was a wonderful reminder that I was working within a totally different cultural environment.

During my final days on the production, I was required to join Ryuhei at the sound studio, for the recording of the film's narration. The two of us sat in the sound booth, while the assistant director and engineers sat outside. Unfortunately, on one particular day, I had a terrible stomach that insisted on making hideous gurgle sounds. Of course, I blamed Ryuhei each time the engineers complained about picking up weird extraneous noises!

When I finally saw the movie, I must admit that I was disappointed by the confused tone of the direction, screenplay, pace and performances. The film did not seem to know what it was: One minute a silly, slapstick Japanese comedy, whilst the next, a mystery thriller.

As for Ryuhei's English, I was cringing throughout the long, long one and a half hours. He is a fantastic guy and a very talented actor, but months of further dialogue coaching would have improved his performance no end. However, I think he was very courageous to take on the challenge, and I would not have wanted to have done the same in Japanese.

Here's the movie's website: http://www.c-o-o-l.jp/index2.html

Saw

Having nothing better to do, I went to a movie theatre in Tokyo's Kabuki-cho, yesterday. I was bored and aimlessly walking about, when a large sign with Saw written on it, caught my eye. 'The Saw Is Family' mantra from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel, suddenly jumped into my consciousness, reminding me of how much I love a good, gritty horror movie. I was in the mood.

In many ways, Saw is a psychological thriller that tries very hard to capture the repulsive, gut-wrenching tone of Se7en (1995); a film that I watched once, but really have no desire to watch again. Se7en was a fabulously tight, claustrophobic experience which grabs from start to end with its bleakness. Yet, for all its brilliance, the desperation of it all just seems too gruelling to want to revisit again. Saw is not Se7en. It certainly hopes to be, but it falls slightly short of its goals.

Whereas Se7en had the charismatic and polished performances of Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman and Kevin Spacey, in Saw there are no actors of equal standing. The most accomplished actor in the cast is Danny Glover, who seems absolutely underused playing a former cop with an obsessive desire to track down the protagonist of the piece, the Jigsaw Killer.

The majority of the movie is focused upon Cary Elwes and Leigh Whannell, who wake-up finding themselves chained-up in a foul room, with a corpse between them. As the movie progresses, they try to unravel the mystery of their circumstance. They both give adequate performances, even if a little cold.

Disturbing imagery is laid on thick, with many effective scare moments. In particular, a hideous Mr. Punch puppet works its archetypal chills throughout. The director and writer, James Wan, utilises a variety of filmic techniques in conjuring up the intended insanity. One particular scene, refers to a flashback of one victim's desperate attempts to escape through a jungle of razor wire. Wan shoots this like a cinecamera on amphetamines, where all the edits are rapid and the action dizzyingly speeded-up.

Saw has gained good word-of-mouth. I suppose I had expected something more disturbing and fresh. It certainly has some interesting moments, but for the most part, it does not tread anywhere new. Under all its music video like sheen, the film has very little.

Kong Is King... You Have To Love Peter Jackson!

I have been a fan of Peter Jackson, ever since I saw his first movie, Bad Taste. The dedication and effort that has so evidently gone into his endeavours, is really something to marvel at. Under the cloak of all the latest fangle-dangle filmic technology, there still remains a nostalgic old fashioned filmmaker, who understands what makes the pulse of an audience tick: He is the audience with a camera, as Spielberg once used to be.

At present, after his triumph with the Lord Of The Rings trilogy, Jackson is working on a remake of RKO's classic 1933 movie, King Kong. Unlike the dreadful 1976 remake, starring Jeff Bridges and Jessica Lange, this latest effort will return the plot back to the glamourous 1930's setting.

It stars Jack Black, Naomi Watts and Adrien Brody in the chief roles, and as was the case with the Ring's trilogy, the casting seems inspired to say the least. In the role of the CGI title character, the proven genius of Gollum's Andy Serkis, has returned to New Zealand to breath life into the great ape.

Catch-up with the latest news at the excellent Kong Is King website: http://www.kongisking.net/index.shtml There, you will be graced with daily video updates from Peter Jackson on set. It is a rather lovely site, with a fun forum.

Shaun Of The Dead

For as long as I can remember, I have adored zombies. If you asked me why, it would be difficult to give any kind of logical explanation. There was always something fascinating in the apocalyptic vision of a world overrun by walking corpses, who would do anything to have a nibble at your flesh.

George A. Romero has been a lifelong movie hero of mine. He was the director of Night Of The Living Dead, released in 1968, which forever took the zombie out from the hands of Ju-Ju Men and the sugarcane fields of Voodoo Haiti. The zombie had now evolved into a stumbling cannibal, whose basic instincts propelled it to kill. In hordes, they become a lethal army that relentlessly attack the last vestiges of humanity, barely surviving behind improvised fortresses of farmhouses and department stores.

In Romero's movies, only scant explanations are given for the phenomenon of zombies, and it all seems utterly ridiculous when logic is applied, but the concept nonetheless, has remained a towering canon in the horror genre. It is not surprising that major studios, such as Universal, are now interested in developing big budgeted zombie flicks, which in the past were considered material for "B" or even "Z" grade productions. Finally, the studio suits understand that zombies are marketable.

Shaun Of The Dead is the best British comedy since Withnail and I. It came out shortly after the release of the Dawn Of The Dead remake. Zombies came back into vogue, due to the popularity of the non-zombie, but highly Romero influenced, 28 Days Later. The timing for this British film, could not have been better.

Unlike previous zombie comedies, such as Return of the Living Dead, Braindead, Reanimator and last years, Undead, there is an avoidance to spoof the genre in this latest effort. The zombie genre simply becomes a backdrop to a well-written and beautifully performed story about regular twenty-somethings trying to cope with the mundane patterns of life, but discovering strength in a time of crisis. It has been described as a "zom-rom-com" - a zombie romantic comedy! Yet, the story could have been embedded into any disaster scenario, such as a nuclear war, plague, whatever, and the drama would have played the same.

The movie's star, Simon Pegg, and its director, Edgar Wright, demonstrate an obvious passion for the zombie genre in their screenwriting. Unlike the Dawn Of The Dead remake, which attempted to alter the mythos by having running zombies, the screenwriters demonstrate their affection and respect by changing nothing other than the setting. In Shaun, the undead remain their old familiar selves.

Much of the comedy is achieved by contrasting the normality of these characters with the extraordinary situation they find themselves in. It is as if Pegg and Wright had imagined what it would be like if a real zombie nightmare occurred. How would any of us react? Who would survive and who would die? Of course, there is also plenty of slapstick gore to satisfy the hardcore zombie fan contingent. You'll be happy that you kept your vinyl records after you watch this film.

Shaun Of The Dead is an instant classic, that every fan of comedy or horror should see: Wonderfully funny, always engaging and often touching. What more could an audience want?

Godzilla: King Of The Monsters

NEWS FLASH! A prehistoric monster has awakened from the depths of the ocean. Its slumber disturbed by a nuclear blast. The creature named ‘Gojira’ or ‘Godzilla’ by scientists, has swiftly swam to the coast of Japan, rapidly reducing Tokyo to rubble with its radioactive fire-breathing and brute force. A humanitarian disaster of great magnitude has occurred. Terror has swept across the nation, as the Self-Defense Force tries every tactic, in a desperate bid to bring the beast down. It seems that nothing can stop the invincible Godzilla! Only the tie-clad executives at Toho Studios have the power to control it.

Godzilla has become a pop cultural icon, whose presence can be found in comic and model shops the world over. His elephant-like scream and flaming breath have become as familiar as Superman’s red cloak and “S” symbol. There seems to be no waning in his popularity, as it continues to grow with each new generation who rediscovers him. Why a gigantic dinosaur, decked out with a healthy set of Tyrannosaurus Rex teeth and Stegosaurus armored plating should have so much appeal, has baffled researchers of pop culture for over 30 years. However, his place is firmly established next to Batman, Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein Monster, Groucho Marx, King Kong and Elvis Presley.

Like most other enduring icons, Godzilla’s birth occurred during a period of great social upheaval. After the horrors of the Second World War, the Gothic monsters that were popular before, now seemed irrelevant. How could vampires and werewolves scare an audience, when science had created a far more frightening and very real specter in the form of nuclear weapons?

The shocking results of the two bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, etched a social terror on a scale never before seen. The impact of these events became manifest in the concept of Godzilla, a cold destroyer of cities, with no conscience for the residing citizens far below his stomping feet.

When the first movie was released in 1954, he was an instant hit in Japan. All good horror movies work as a catharsis for facing our fears. There is an innate masochistic pleasure that can be drawn from watching the things that scare us most, such as death, deformity and loneliness. Godzilla’s initial success laid in his ability to tap into the audience’s anxieties towards the new nuclear age.

As the movie series continued into the Sixties and Seventies, the persona of Godzilla adjusted to the changes in Japanese society. Instead of a threat, he became the protector of Japan, fighting all external aggressors. The enemy had now become a friend, as had the USA, which itself had become a necessary ally for the demilitarized Japan of the post-war era. Children could sleep at night, knowing that Godzilla was there to protect them.

His popularity shifted from being an icon of horror into an icon for popular culture. The movies were distributed worldwide, in various dubbed and subtitled forms, creating a huge fan base, which enjoyed them either literally or purely for their increasing campiness, silliness and cheap special effects.

While the first movie was created for an adult audience, the later contributions to the series in the 1960s and 1970s are quite obviously aimed for children. With this shift, Toho Studios saw a gradual decline in its core audience, which led to a suspension of new Godzilla movies in 1975.

By the mid-Eighties, a large cult following had developed, in very much the same way as Star Trek. The questionable quality of the films had in themselves become an attraction. Godzilla Versus The Smog Monster (1971) was awarded a Golden Turkey in 1978, for its dreadful production values and ridiculous storyline. People responded and interest in these movies increased. Like the films of the so-called “world’s worst director”, Ed Wood, the movies have a distinctive identity that continues to endear the imagination to this day.

With the sudden resurgence of popularity in Godzilla, Toho Studios could not resist the opportunity to exploit their prehistoric patron. In 1984, they released a direct sequel to the 1954 original, ignoring the sloppy sequels of the past and returning Godzilla to his roots, as a romper-stomper killing machine. This new timeline continued on till 1995, through six more movies.

Hollywood, always good at sniffing out a trend, became aware of the potential that Godzilla would offer in a large scale American version. After several well-known directors, such as Jan De Bont, passed on the opportunity, Roland Emmerich of Independence Day fame, became attached to the project.

Hordes of avid Godzilla fans waited with high expectation to see a movie that would elevate their favorite monster out from suited-actor hell and into the modern world of CGI. However, the result was met with disdain and disappointment. The Godzilla of yore had now been replaced by a salamander-like visage, baring no resemblance to the popular creature that audiences had come to love. Gone was the chunkiness. Gone was the personality.

In response, Toho was determined to resurrect their monster again, in the hope of amending the damage caused by the Hollywood incarnation, with the release of Godzilla 2000: Millennium.

Toho continues to produce Godzilla movies, and while there may be pauses in production in the future, it seems that the green giant is here to stay.

- El-Branden Brazil
Copyright 2004 -

Catwoman & King Arthur

Having some time spare in Bangkok, I decided to go to one of the city's excellent movie theatres, to watch a couple of this year's summer "treats". At the very cheap price of 140 Baht ($3) compared to Tokyo's 1,900 yen ($19), it just does not hurt so much to waste time watching the latest Hollywood garbage.

Catwoman has been a project that has seemed doomed from the start. When the first images of Halle Berry's ill-conceived costume were revealed, there was universal ridicule. Compared to the glory of Michelle Pfieffer in a PVC catsuit, it was obvious that this latest endeavour was missing the beats.

When the movie was finally released, the expected critical goring began. One critic in Variety, compared Berry's performance to that of Elizabeth Berkley in the horribly bad, Showgirls. Ouch! When I read this, I pitied Berry, who is obviously a very talented actress. Could she really be that bad? I had to find out for myself.

Well, I must say I was a little disappointed, because I went to the movie expecting a total disaster, and discovered a movie that was vibrant, silly and kitsch. The story was ridiculously lame, but Pitof's direction was consistently energetic and imaginative, with beautiful splashes of colour and lighting.

If the Worst Actress award must be handed out, then it should be for Sharon Stone, who plays the bland villain. Halle Berry certainly camps it up the best she can with the flaccid script, and there are many embarrassing scenes that will no doubt come back to haunt her, but she most definitely is NOT as bad as Elizabeth Berkley!

Like so many movies today, the CGI was the biggest let down. It just could not provide the realism needed, and once again, it was a distraction rather than an enhancer to the film.

Catwoman is not a great movie, but it is mildly entertaining. It is certainly not the disaster that King Arthur is, and has more chance to become at least a camp cult classic, if nothing else.
-----------------------------------------------------------

King Arthur is a film that defies all that should be included in an ideal summer blockbuster: entertainment, excitement, star power and impressive set pieces. What Jerry Bruckheimer succeeds in giving us, is a summer movie so horribly dull and boring, that the producer should be given a special award for such an incredible achievement.

The movie is set in the Dark Ages, and it became rapidly apparent that the director, Antoine Fuqua, had misunderstood why this period in history was named such. Instead of the Dark Ages being a period of little social or cultural development, he seems to have interpreted it literally, because the movie is filmed entirely in dark, pallid, grainy tones of grays and blues.

Matching masterfully the dullness of this enterprise's vision, Clive Owen gives a career best in what can simply be called one of the most uninspired, uncharismatic and stilted lead performances to ever grace the cinema screen. The durge of his voice is often inaudible and simply lacking in anything that could be called emotional or inflective. The contrast with Ioan Gruffudd's overly Shakespearian intoning Lancelot is unintentionally hilarious in scenes they share together.

The rest of Arthur's knights are basically an assembled collection of fictional stereotypes. It would be easy to take all these characters and throw them into a Muskateers' movie. Ray Winston, who I have worked with twice, on Robin Of Sherwood and Casualty, throws in an effort well below his talents, performing in the standard loveable rogue role.

The battle sequences are confused and messy, failing to achieve any of the impact of those found in the Lord Of The Rings movies, Braveheart, or even Troy.

If the legend of King Arthur had been as uninspired as this effort, the myth would have long been vanquished from memory. It is such a shame that the filmmakers decided to ignore the source material and club together their own story. The names of the characters alone, does not an Arthurian adventure make.

Pat Roach Has Died.

Pat Roach & El-Branden (14)

Pat Roach was a regular heavy in the Indiana Jones movies. In the first film, he played both a Sherpa and the bald-headed Nazi who has a nasty end in an airplane propeller. In the second film, he appeared as the giant Indian slave driver, who ends up crushed in a rock grinder. They weren't huge parts, but Pat became a part of the Indiana Jones formula. On top of these appearances, he was one of the leading characters in the British comedy, Auf Weidersen Pet.

I met Pat Roach when I was a teenager on the shoot for an American production, called Three Wishes For Jamie. The film starred the respected actor, Jack Warden, and Pat had a supporting role. At the time, I was a huge Indiana Jones fan, so it was a real delight to spend three days filming with him. On one occasion, he was relaxing between takes, and so I went over and joined him for a chat about Spielberg, Ford and the making of the movies. He was very pleasant, although I got the impression that he felt his star was slightly brighter than it actually was.

The photograph above, was taken on the set of Three Wishes. Did I really ever look so young?

Spider-Man 2

Perhaps its the Spandex, but superheroes have, more often than not, failed to translate to the big screen. The tight fabric that looked so cool drawn in ink, must be an absolute nightmare to transfer into reality. The easy option has been to shift from Spandex to either leather or PVC body armour, as was the case in the Batman movies. Sure the Dark Knight looked cool at times, but he was never "the" Batman of the comic books.

The biggest problem with most superhero movies, has more to do with unimaginative writing. I am often baffled as to how studios can produce such tedious efforts out of such rich, colourful source material. Throw-in the usual over-the-top big name actor in the role of the villain, and hey presto, yet another over-hyped, uninspired piece of crap flickers upon the screen.

Well, I must say that Spider-Man 2 is the exception to the rule. Whilst the first movie left me somewhat shortchanged, but with enough of a smattering of Spidey antics to keep me marginally interested, the sequel excels in every sense. It is one of those rare cinematic efforts that improve upon their predecessor. This time, Sam Raimi's direction is more assured, as are the meticulous special effects. It really is a delight to fly through the city of New York with the beautifully rendered Spider-Man. They have really captured the form and classic poses so familiar to readers of the comic books.

The real star of the movie was Alfred Molina as Dr. Octopus. I have fond memories of owning a 1977 Spider-Man annual, when I was very young and wrinkle free. Within those much read pages, was a story featuring Dr. Octopus. I can't explain why, but there was something extraordinarily impressive and archetypal about his four extra appendages. However, while those simple drawn images remain forever part of my childhood, I could not have imagined the majesty of seeing Dr. Ock in all his living screen glory. Molina plays him in such an understated way, that it immediately disarms your preconceptions of the standard over-the-top comic book villains in previous films. There are times when his presence on the screen is pure magic. My favourite shot appears after the bankrobbery, as Dr. Octopus flees from the scene with Spider-Man's Aunt May. Just pure, beautiful imagery.

The quirky comedy that peppers the film, is entirely in keeping with the Sam Raimi sensibility, that has been present in all his movies, right from the start with The Evil Dead. There are even sly hidden references to his previous efforts. Look out for the chainsaw.

Tobey Maguire excels at bringing all the appropriate nerdy qualities that the Peter Parker character requires. He is perfectly cast and seems much more at ease this time around. There are some very human moments in this movie, and that is perhaps why Spider-Man succeeds where other superhero movies have failed. We can relate to Peter Parker with his frustrations and internal conflicts.

Sure it's a summer blockbuster, and while I would recommend Fahrenheit 9/11 over Spider-Man 2, it is a rare summer movie that produces all the fun, thrills and spills we are often promised, but usually remain undelivered.