Showing posts with label Where the Wild Things Are. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Where the Wild Things Are. Show all posts

Friday, 19 October 2012

Films and "Best Ever" Lists

"Best Ever?" (... I'll do you an A to Z)
So yes, there was and continues to be a huge amount of commentary on the Sight and Sound Bestest Film Ever poll, which is now apparently “Vertigo” with "Citizen Kane" apparently magicked down a notch. Such a poll is always going to be interesting and enlightening as much as it is frustrating and redundant, but nevertheless film aficionados do love to get stuck into this stuff. Hell, even I enjoy grading films on my private What I Watch list. But in the end, it was an email from my friend The Intriguing David Gadsdon that summarised what I could not really find energy to articulate. He wrote:
“Been reading that Sight and Sound poll, it's becoming very stale because people are voting for the same films in large numbers. There some interesting inclusions, but never in great enough volume for them to make any dent on the overall poll, so you always get the same stuff at the top. Not that it doesn't deserve to be there, but when it's always there it means that the poll appears to be in a vacuum that seems to stifle debate as to what other films could be considered greatest. If the results never change the list is in danger of becoming irrelevant (if it isn't already).”
Indeed, and I concur.
You see, I adore “Attack the Block” as both a fun monster flick and as social commentary, and I would argue that it achieves and executes its objectives every bit as much as “Vertigo” (hah!), but it’s apples and oranges and I would have a hard time calling it one of the/my best films ever. Who would ever agree with me? but it gives me great joy, many thrills and much mental engagement. 

Where is the room on any Bestest Film Ever list for “An American Werewolf in London”, which is one of the films I have seen many, many times over since I was thirteen and would always, always sit through? And does the fact that I would always watch “American Werewolf” mean it is, by extension, one of my favourites, and does that segue into being considered by me as one of the best?

Same with Leone films... although they are easier to throw in a Best Ever list. Some argue whether “Once Upon a Time in America” or “- In the West” is the greater Leone (I’m an “In America” guy). But Sergio Leone is one I am likely to say is Best Ever on consideration of his whole oeuvre, just like Ingmar Bergman, Takashi Miike, David Cronenberg, Kieslowski... etc...

There are so many other favourites of mine that I couldn’t justify being on a Best Ever or even Best Of list... Joe Dante’s “Matinee”? Or fresh in my mind: “The Raid”? OK, let me stop.
What such lists do achieve is in outlining and conveying the taste of the list-maker and introducing some films that you/I may not have been aware of. So, in that spirit, I wish to throw down a list of some of my favourites. What is hard is to stick true to my taste and not to wrangle the list into a list of what makes me look cool, or what I think should be my top ten. Hah. But these are the films that I know have had profound effect on me, that I enjoyed to the utmost, that changed the way I watched film and all of that jazz. Let’s see... I am going to get around things by doing this A-Z style, with an intention to do lists of favourites by genre or whatever later on. High-brow? Low-brow? Whatever… it’s all good. This should give you some idea of where I am coming from and what I enjoy the most. Because it’s fun. Indeed.



A QUICK A-Z OF BUCK THEOREM'S FAVOURITES (some)
 (by looking at my film collection so far)


The Adjuster
Bad Education
Come and See
Don't Look Now
Europa
Fanny and Alexander
Gummo
Henry: portrait of a serial killer
In a Lonely Place
Joe the King
Kiss Me Deadly
Let the Right One In
Metropolis
No Country For Old Men
Once Upon a Time in America
Paperhouse
Quatermass and the Pit (1958 tv series)
The Raid
Santa Sangre
Toto the Hero
Unbreakable
Valley of the Bees
Where the Wild Things Are
Xtro
Young Thugs: innocent blood/Young Thugs: nostalgia
Zodiac


I am aware that some of these come under "best film I have under that letter" as opposed to "Outright Best Ever". Or rather that "Xtro" remains a film that fascinates me and has done since I was an under-age youth illegally hiring out 18 certificate films from the local video shop, and yes its roughness and oddness is all good. No one is going to agree with me that it is one of the best ever films made, or even one of the best ever horrors, but I have a great fondness for. It is the highest graded film I own under "X" and I'll stand by it. Same with Takashi Miike's "Young Thugs" double-bill for "Y". But, yeah, I love all these titles, if some more than others.

Self-evidently, an A-Z will miss out many others. I shall maybe make more... later...

Because it IS fun.

Monday, 27 December 2010

Where The Wild Things Are


WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE

Spike Jonz, 2009, USA

A work of staggering furry near-genius.
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Spike Jonze’s adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s much loved and brief book engages with the unnerving freedom and aggression of Max’s free-fall play from the very first minutes, as he chases the dog around the house, like a delirious hunter. The handheld camera follows and jumps around with him and the effect is dizzying, liberating, and just a bit scary. This opening and the following drama surrounding Max’s snow fort capture the ups and downs of play effortlessly ~ play makes you high and when it doesn’t go as you want it to, it’s throws you low. The magic of Jonze’s film is that it never, ever losing sight of the pell-mell violence behind rough-and-tumble play: at any minute, it might go horribly wrong.
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The dog is okay, but Max’s snow fort does not fare so well, and neither does his mother. In a tantrum of attention-seeking and jealousy, Max bites her and, apparently horrified at his own behaviour, sets out on his own odyssey from the house to sort himself out. Even the journey to the island of the Wild Things is fraught with peril: the waves threaten to toss his little boat and drown him. The dangers of Max’s world all seem very real and likely, all larger than life and exaggerated. Upon meeting the Wild Things, his friendship with them and Max’s hold on them by proclaiming himself a king always seems precariously ready to end up in something terrible due to any of their unpredictable mood-swings and penchant for aggressive play. The Wild Things themselves embody a whole host of difficult, affectionate and fraught relationships: immediate family; a gang of new friends; various facets of Max’s own personality. The Wild Thing Carol seems most to represent Max’s temper and destructiveness as well as an immature father-figure. Has a bunch of giant puppets ever been so dangerously temperamental and morose? They are all like Sesame Street muppets in need of therapy and anti-depressants. As special effects The Wild Things are a mixture of real costumes and CGI tweaking, and are remarkable and scary in their size and physicality. They smash, they wreck, they tear chunks out of trees, they throw one another around without sense of consequence.
 
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It is like a grunge film for pre-teens. The soundtrack by Karen O and the Kids amplifies this feeling: it surely won’t be to everyone’s taste but it’s an often jubilant, crash, strum and shout accompaniment that relates well to Max’s energy. The work of the voice actors, all seasoned professionals, is also exemplary: James Gandolfini especially uses his very nasally, snorty and sighing voice to excellent effect for Carol’s sulkiness. Jonz captures Max Records as Max at just the right moment, encouraging a wonderfully open, fluid performance. It is free from the brattishness and knowingness of so many trained American child performers. When he declares nonchalantly “I have no plans to eat anyone today,” it is irresistible. He throws both a great temper and confused remorse, both totally in thrall to and nervous of the monster-sized character traits around him. Max maybe isn’t the all-scowling tearaway of Sendak’s book, but he is a more fully rounded, conflicted, variable character: by turns needy, volatile, sweet, unthinkingly mean, et cetera. He is as dwarfed by the intimidating moods-wings, judgements and needs of the Wild Things as he is by his need to play and to be the kind and the centre of attention. Rarely does Jonz miss the child’s eye perspective and feel of his surroundings: even when the monsters bundle into a mountain on top of him, the dangerous claustrophobia is tangible and, wonderfully, Jonz turns the bundle into tunnels that Max crawls through. Just like a fort.

Jonz and Eggers draw a clear line between the troubling relationship between creativity and destructiveness: it is not mistake that Carol is the most artistic. Where does one end and the other begin? When does play become dangerous? Where does neediness end and selfishness take over? How, indeed, to find the compromise between all these things? In the end, Max has worked as much out as he can for himself and, as he leaves to go home and start over afresh and, we would hope, wiser and more controlled, all that is left is a gorgeous, plaintive, primal howl. Well, until Max goes home barking at the dogs in the yards. And he is still wearing the wolf suit. You have to stay yourself, after all.
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A farewell love letter to temper tantrums.
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A film for kids that treats a kid’s irrational temper with respect.