Film
David Lynch's new film began as a pilot for a television series. It was rejected by ABC before being saved by a French company. It's easy to see what made ABC nervous. Mulholland Drive is a return to familiar Lynch territory after the unusually simple diversion of The Straight Story (1999); it is essentially Lynch's nightmarish vision applied not to suburban America, as in Blue Velvet, but to Hollywood.
A mysterious brunette (Harring), straight out of a noir thriller, emerges from a car crash and seeks refuge in a nearby apartment. Meanwhile Betty (Watts), a naïve wannabe actress, arrives at the same building. Betty finds the brunette, who calls herself Rita, and vows to help her recover her lost memory. The women become lovers. Several disconnected episodes follow: a young film director (Theroux) is harassed into hiring an actress by some Mafia type bullies; a murder in an office is comically botched; and towards the end a mysterious blue box appears which turns the story and the characters inside out.
The film contains many elements familiar from Lynch's work (the 1950's fetish, identity confusions etc). It's sometimes a bit too familiar. So we find the usual freaks and mystery men who add surreal moments to the already complex plot. There's a menacing dwarf who seems to control the casting of Theroux's film. There's also a pale faced cowboy who appears out of nowhere to give warnings. What does it all mean? As ever with Lynch, it's probably better not to demand answers. Just enjoy the unsettling performances, the brooding score and the cameo by Billy Ray Cyrus!
This was a tricky film to review since I spent most of it hiding in my popcorn. Erika Kohut (Huppert) has been playing the piano since she was a little girl, driven on by her domineering mother. As an adult, in addition to her predilection for Schubert, she likes to visit porn cinemas; at home, she mutilates her genitals with a razor - or she abuses her mother. Erika has a panoply of masochistic fantasies, which she attempts to enact with Walter Klemmer (Magimel), a young engineering student fascinated by her playing; and though initially he is repulsed by her suggestions, he is soon drawn into her minutely calculated insanity.
The acting is admittedly superb, with Huppert giving the performance of her career. We feel sympathy for Erika throughout, even after she has destroyed the talent of one of her pupils by putting broken glass in her coat-pocket. We understand that she is trying to live her life as a melodramatic heroine, and that she fails on every count; she can't even commit suicide properly at the end of the film. Still, The Piano Teacher is so cold and non-judgemental that it seems empty. It is hard not to feel that this is a film that strains hard for depth and complexity, only to fall flat on its smug art-house face.
Question: what do Behind Enemy Lines and a pot of Ronseal quick-drying wood stain have in common? Answer: they both do exactly what they say on the tin. You look at the poster and you think military action thriller, lots of explosions and an all American hero surviving against all odds. And you wouldn't be far wrong.
The scene opens with naval pilot Burnett (Wilson) on an aircraft carrier in the Adriatic shortly before the Americans pull out of Bosnia. He gets shot down "behind enemy lines" and, as American interference would threaten the peace process, Burnett is left there. He runs a lot, shoots a lot and does some fairly intelligent things to stay alive. Admiral Reigate (Hackman), even though it costs him his career, eventually rescues him. What's a few thousand killed by a failed peace process compared to saving 'our boy'?
Wilson and Hackman do their best, but they have little chance against big guns and 'Superhornet' jets. But it's the backdrop that lets it down. Despite being set in Bosnia and being about NATO forces, this is an all-American story of heroics; this is Top Gun in the Balkans. Gone is the complexity of the Bosnian situation and the idea of NATO involving European troops. Even more basic though: who is the 'enemy'? What/where is the 'enemy' line? What war? If you want a military adrenalin rush, this is your film. If, however, you have read a newspaper at some point in the last few years, you will see the film's simplicity and cringe.
Football and being in prison are two things I confess to knowing very little about, and it surprised me that I could spend an hour and a half watching a film about them and even leave laughing. Vinny Jones clunks his way through the film as the eponymous 'Mean Machine', an ex-footballer jailed for drunken assault who arranges a cons v guards football match and, in the process, wins over some of the prison's more dysfunctional inmates. Indeed, much of film's appeal lies away from Jones - Oscars won't be flung at the film, but Human Traffic's Danny Dyer turns in an admirable performance, as does Sally Philips who is allowed to play the smirking receptionist in a way not seen since her Alan Partridge days. The comic potential of the A-team style "we've got a prison devoid of talent to build a team from" is also exploited by a slightly random samba soundtrack and a strong, mainly unknown supporting cast. Cleverly, your developing affection for the team also makes you care who wins the match - a battle between the oppressed and their oppressors - at the end of the film. Although The Mean Machine might not beat Lord of the Rings in a cinematic penalty shoot out, it shouldn't be relegated either (apologies for the crap football metaphor). In the hungover, post-collections state of 1st week, Mean Machine could just be the perfect tonic.
10th Jan 2002