The Revolutionary Issue by Trinity Film Review

TRINITY FILM REVIEW VOLUME 8, ISSUE 2

Editor’s Note This is an issue I have been very excited about bringing together. Cinema itself is revolutionary, it is the medium that redefined the storytelling and technical artistry of the twentieth century and continues to do so. To quote Andrew Lloyd Webber, movies “taught the world new ways to dream.” Cinema has, since its inception stood at the forefront of not only technical but creative innovation. This issue sets out to track some of the most thrilling moments in cinema’s revolutionary history taking examples from a massive range of genres from documentary to musicals to science fiction. I believe it was screenwriting legend William Goldman who articulated it best when he said “movies are finally, centrally, crucially, primarily, only about story”. While cinema is often technically revolutionary, one of its greatest functions is in telling stories of revolutions past, replaying our histories in all their glory and heartbreak. History presented on film continues to re-ignite important dialogues and ensure that our defining stories are never forgotten. This is cinema’s most revolutionary function of all, the ability to reflect our heritage back to us that we may hope to recreate past triumphs and endeavour to rectify past failings. If Trinity Film Review’s Revolutionary Issue aims to do one thing it is to inspire its readers as the magic of cinema continues to inspire me. There is nothing more incredible than the immersive experience of cinema. The greatest films present emotive windows into stories of the past, present and future, offering nostalgia where deserved and criticism as needed. This issue seeks to present technical revolutions to fuel our aspirations and narrative revolutions to fuel our passions. Read and enjoy them, then, engage! Sincerely,

EDITOR

Rebecca Wynne-Walsh

ASSISTANT EDITORS Samantha Mooney Oisín Walsh

DESIGN

Keelin Shaughnessy

CONTRIBUTORS Paul Dunne Jessica Egan Edwyn Hitchcock Isla Hoe Nazrin Huseinzade Robyn Kilroy Brendan Marx Sophia McDonald Síomha McQuinn Ellen Pentony Sarah Ratcliffe James Vickery

“It is a movie in which Michael Bay makes his little arthouse movie to show us his soul and we look into his soul and we find ourselves looking into a void-like abyss of blackness the depth and enormity of which it is impossible to comprehend. Werner Herzog could look at Pain & Gain and I think he’d actually be scared.” —Mark Kermode on Pain and Gain Do you have opinions on film à la Kermode? Trinity Film Review are always looking for new contributors. Email us at trinityfilmreview@gmail.com to get involved.

CONTENTS 2. CHARLIE KAUFMAN: WRITING OUTSIDE OF THE RULES. PAUL DUNNE 4. LEGALLY BLONDE: THE FUSION OF ENTERTAINMENT AND SOCIAL CONSCIOUSNESS ISLA HOE 6. MODERN MASTERPIECE: MISTRESS AMERICA EDWYN HITCHCOCK 8. NETFLIX GEMS 10. DENIS VILLENEUVE: THE DISAPPEARING PUPPET-MASTER BRENDAN MARX 13. REVOLUTIONARY SEQUENCE ELLEN PENTONY 14. THEREâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S SOMETHING ABOUT DAIRY: COWSPIRACY AND THE RISE OF REVOLUTIONARY VEGANISM SIOMHA MCQUINN 16. ICONIC SHOT: TOUCH OF EVIL PAUL DUNNE 18. OVERRATED / UNDERRATED KEELIN SHAUGHNESSY & REBECCA WYNNE-WALSH 20. THE SUPERHERO MOVIE: A NEW FILM GENRE OISIN WALSH 22. REBELLION DONE JUSTICE: REVOLUTIONARY IRELAND ON SCREEN SOPHIA MCDONALD 25. GAME CHANGERS 28. RENAISSANCE MAN: JOHN CASSAVETES JAMES VICKERY 30. REVIEWS: A FANTASTIC WOMAN / BLACK PANTHER / LOVELESS / I, TONYA

CHARLIE KAUFMAN Writing Outside of the Rules By Paul Dunne

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He embraces the poetic and imperfect over predictable plot developments and happy-ever-afters.

” Charlie Kaufman is a screenwriter and filmmaker like no other. He knows no other style than revolutionary as he refuses to play by the rules or fit inside generic boxes. He takes risks where others load their films with clichéd archetypes and pre-packaged emotional moments. He plays with pathos like other writers do out of place comedic one-liners. His protagonists don’t fall in love because they’re beautiful or the top billed actors, rather they often fall out of love, becoming lost in the mazes of their own lives. Kaufman isn’t afraid of frustrated, directionless characters or confusing, complex stories. He embraces the poetic and imperfect over predictable plot developments and happy-ever-afters. His dialogue strays as far as possible from film speak, opting to include the stutters, hesitations, and misunderstandings of regular conversation while avoiding the pitfalls of humdrum mumblecore or the rapid babble of Indiewood. Kaufman brings to life an eccentric, yet mundane reality unlike any other

screenwriter or filmmaker, which all too closely reflects our own. I recommend watching his entire oeuvre, but for those unconvinced I will provide a taste of three of his best films, in my opinion of course. Being John Malkovich is the ideal introduction to Kaufman as it was his introduction to the mainstream. As worthless as awards are, Kaufman’s script received an Academy Award nomination and won a BAFTA despite its surreal subject matter and having been turned down by multiple studios. The film is about a puppeteer (John Cusack) who discovers a portal that leads into the titular John Malkovich’s mind. There is no better summary of the film than Cusack’s own thoughts after discovering the portal ‘’it raises all sorts of philosophical type questions about the nature of self, about the existence of a soul, you know, am I me? Is Malkovich Malkovich?” With this film, we are introduced to themes and motifs that run across all Kaufman’s works. His near-

obsession with puppets and their inherent issues of identity and agency are explored thoroughly. Various subconscious and puppetry scenes provide a wonderful blend of philosophy, physicality and the psychedelic as we are allowed behind various characters’ eyes. Cusack, Cameron Diaz, and Catherine Keener all give terrific performances as an ever-shifting love triangle, punctuated by equally comedic and tragic moments. Being John Malkovich may sound complex or serious but it is one of Kaufman’s more fantastical and comedic works, making us, not just think but laugh too. I don’t know where or how to begin writing about Adaptation except at its beginning. We are presented with a black screen and a manic monologue from Nicholas Cage. He expresses his doubts, anxieties, and fears in an unfiltered, aimless ramble of inner thought. Adaptation is about a screenwriter called Charlie Kaufman adapting a biographical novel into a screenplay and the challenges he faces with this job and

SYNECHDOCHE, NEW YORK

BEING JOHN MALKOVICH

within himself (based on Kaufman’s failed attempts to adapt that same novel in reality). The script breaks all the rules of every screenwriting class or book. No one should write a script about someone writing a script, and yet Kaufman did. His meta-film incorporates behind the scenes footage of the filming of Being John Malkovich and places Kaufman himself as the protagonist, portrayed by none other than Nicholas Cage. By all accounts, this movie should be a horrific mess. However, it works fantastically, so well in fact it received and won various nominations and awards across all notable cinematic award bodies. It is a film loaded with inter-referential layers, it secretly describes and comments on itself as we watch it. The cast of weird and wacky characters expose themselves, the oncoming plot developments, and the mechanics of screenwriting to us. Their anxieties, awkwardness, and adaptations to their lives sprawl across the run time in a mesmerising riddle of formulaic, but fresh, film. Synecdoche, New York is Kaufman’s magnum opus, his masterpiece. It is an epic postmodern tragedy engaged with the ineffectiveness of communication between people and the inevitable death that awaits us all. It embraces classic and universal issues throughout, forcing us to face Caden’s (Philip Seymour Hoffman) mistakes and misgivings. Ultimately, leading us to question our own past, present, and selves. Hoffman gives the performance of his life as a hypochondriacal, artistic genius who sets himself an impossible task: to create a theatre piece that will honestly tell the story of every living human, their disasters, their delights, their dilemmas, all at the same time. Kaufman’s achievement in writing and directing this fractal film, of blending and bleeding multiple narrative layers of the fictional and the real together, of creating an equally cathartic and complex mess of absurdity and truth, is no small feat. Like Caden himself, I struggle to find a way to express this film’s effect. Its dense web is difficult to unwrap but incredibly rewarding. Watch it, not once, not twice, but as many times as you can handle. I’m not being hyperbolic, each time you do, you will glean something new.

LEGALLY BLONDE The Fusion of Entertainment and Social Consciousness By Isla Hoe

Almost twenty years after its initial release Legally Blonde is as fun, easy, and significant as ever. On the surface it’s a preppy and somewhat simplistic chick flick about a blonde sorority girl who has everything, but is looking for love. That said, looking back, it was years ahead of its time. Self love, friendship, female solidarity and believing in yourself is inherently what this film is about. The story follows Elle Woods, played iconically by Reese Witherspoon. She is a typical 2000’s sorority girl who, after a breakup, is told that she’s “too blonde to be taken seriously,” and embarks on a mission to attend Harvard Law School, to prove that she can indeed be a smart and serious girlfriend. Admittedly, playing the feminist card, the film doesn’t start out particularly well. Elle initially comes across as a desperate, blonde airhead trying to do anything to please her man. Significantly, the character develops an all-important third dimension quite quickly. There are clear flaws with this film, getting into Harvard on the basis of a video essay and a fashion degree, and then solving a murder case using said fashion knowledge. It is a slightly ridiculous premise (though no more ridiculous than space wizards with laser swords), but, as with all great cinema, it’s the small scenes, and the character interactions that make this film timeless. In the last two or three years, there has been a mass movement in pop culture, through magazines, films, websites and blogs, which calls on women to love and believe in themselves and to make choices in line with that underestimated self-compassion. Also, we’ve moved into an age of women being encouraged less and less to tear other women down, instead promoting supporting and pushing other women to be their best possible self. This may seem obvious to people now but one of the solid themes that doesn’t change throughout the film is how Elle is filled with kindness and desire to help people to love themselves. Too many chick flicks depict the girls being as mean and bitchy as possible, and they often show how girls bring out the worst in each other. Legally Blonde illustrates the exact opposite. This film gives us a first hand view at just how important it is to have women

supporting women. Even the party girls Elle is friends with from her sorority, are some of the most loving and supportive characters in the film. Legally Blonde in this and many other ways revolutionises its chick flick facade to re-inscribe it with positive values of support and solidarity. The importance of this film doesn’t stop there, it takes a much darker turn, and a turn that leads to an all too familiar storyline that so many women encounter in the workplace. After working for months to prove herself to become one of the top in her class Elle is offered an internship to work on a murder case. It quickly becomes clear that Professor Callahan (Victor Garber), the man who runs the firm Elle is now interning with, is inherently sexist and expects nothing from the female interns except for them to fetch him

when a woman comes forward with a story of abuse is the conclusions her friends, peers and a lot of the time the general public jump to, which is exactly what happens between Elle and her friend Vivian (Selma Blair). Almost immediately Vivian assumes that Elle only got her internship by using her sexuality. In this film Elle got lucky. She had people who believed in her and wanted her to succeed thereby ensuring a strong support system. Emmett (Luke Wilson), and fitness instructor Brooke (Ali Larter), the woman Elle is trying to prove as innocent, believe in her, unwaveringly. However, it transpires that the support of the apparently (but evidently necessarily) tough female professor gives Elle the proverbial kick to not abandon all of her hard work which would have heartbreakingly gone

coffee. This surface level sexism then takes a worryingly predatory turn. As the final court date comes closer Callahan presents Elle with a sexually loaded proposition in return for his help in her professional career. The abuse of power here is inexcusable, but it isn’t merely confined to this film. Since October countless industry heads, producers and professionals of all backgrounds have been accused of sexual assault and harassment. This has been happening for years, but until recently, it was ignored and accepted as a dirty little secret. The critical part of the film and Elle’s interactions with everyone around her is not that this has happened but it is the reactions she receives from other characters, that are mimicking the reactions of everyday people. One of the biggest issues

to waste just because of some “pathetic asshole.” From the get-go Legally Blonde comes across as girly film where the only concern is winning a man. However, by the end of the film the topic of men is barely even touched upon. Elle’s relationship with Emmett is an afterthought in the final scene. It’s so easy to get bogged down in the seriousness of the social problems the film engages with that their accessible presentation in this film proves refreshing. This film is one of the first and only of its kind to acknowledge sexual harassment in the workplace and address it in a way that is accessible to pretty much anyone, and at the same time can put even the grumpiest of people in a good mood. Entertainment and social consciousness all in one, now that’s revolutionary.

MISTRESS AMERICA (Noah Baumbach, 2015)

MODERN MASTERPIECE By Edwyn Hitchcock Mistress America follows a lost college kid, Tracy (Lola Kirke), in New York who is dealing with the everyday struggles of being in a new college, new city etc. In the depths of her struggles, she finds solace in her to-be sister, Brooke, a 30 something year old woman, living in the city. She very quickly becomes infatuated with her, and her world, following her around on her adventures in New York. Brooke, played by Greta Gerwig, is full of life and energy, giving Tracy direction in a place full of uncertainty. The film moves quickly, progressing to an intense moment in which Gerwig’s character seeks money from her nemesis and ex-fiancée. The scene, like most others in the film, is an ensemble of comedic dialogue with seemingly misguided emotion and farce. This film is a treasure. When we

watch films it’s often about perceiving the characters and the world they live in. We are always led into the outlined perimeters of a world where the story takes place which we, as a spectator, consent to buy into. It’s a world constructed such that the cracks of the illusion are brushed away seamlessly, engrossing us beyond the reality of sitting in a dark cinema in Dublin. In Mistress America, we see a different relationship between spectator and actor, almost as if the two share a private joke. This specific kind of humour, where the actor is alluding to the awareness of the spectator, can be seen in the modern slapstick style that it possesses. The characters balance performative interaction against the daily life setting; just watch Gerwig walk down the steps of Times Square

and you’ll see it. Excellently choreographed, fast-paced dialogue, highlights Baumbach and Gerwig’s humorously attuned directing and writing skills. What is striking isn’t the visual, which so many indie films take pride in, instead, its merit lies in the subtlety. It doesn’t use profanity excessively to make us laugh. The physical comedy is illustrated in facial reactions and character engagement. It instead focuses on character arcs, clever humour with carefully written characters all of whom are idiosyncratic, even the minor roles. Everything charms you about this film, the colours, the conversation, the music. Perhaps it’s visually a little bland, similar in some respects to modern American television series, but it doesn’t over-stylise. Instead, quiet colours attest to a quiet setting, and we can actually relate to the characters instead of seeing something too glossy we want to escape to. So much magic in this film comes from the comedy of daily life. This film highlights a quiet and important change in cinema. The mumblecore genre moves away from big blockbusters and nostalgia that defines much of modern film. All previous notable changes in film may have been in your face, this is not. The mundane is brought to the fore. Things we are all thinking about yet refuse to acknowledge are shared with us. This is not the deepest film you will ever see, you won’t feel struck to the core at the end, but you will love it. It will charm you with its subtlety and romance. Indeed, romance is something it fights for. The dreams and magic Brooke shows Tracy give hope. She stomps around New York unabashedly

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This film highlights a quiet and important change in cinema... The mundane is brought to the fore.

”

striving for something more and, of course, like Tracy we fall in love. Then, like Tracy, we see the inevitable defeat of this character. This fall, like many others, is a result of the cynical and dulling efficacy of big money, the kind of money necessary for her hopes to make real the impossible. Her ambitions for a heart of the community restaurant replete with romantic clichés is telling of the fading vision in today’s world. It’s not playing into nostalgia, but giving us melancholy, hope and some humour. This film offsets what we think will be a typical indie New York comedy, into an unexpectedly refreshing and warm tale. It breaks from Hollywood and forgoes the generic superficiality many comedies subscribe to. With its subtle literary references, availability on Netflix, and setting in college, you should go watch it. Just go watch it, trust me, and go watch it.

N E T F L I X GEMS PARIS IS BURNING

(Jennie Livingston, 1990)

Revolution comes in many forms, revolting against the government, against your family, against society. Paris is Burning encompasses

all of these forms of revolution. Paris is Burning is a documentary film which Netflix describes as “an intimate portrait of 1980s Harlem drag balls; a world of fierce competition, sustenance, and survival.” The documentary explores the extremely competitive drag balls of the 1980s, which featured several specific categories or themes including, walking (as if on a runway), beauty, clothing, dancing abilities, and overall drag “realness”. Many critics believe the documentary to be set at the end of the “Golden Age” of New York’s drag ball scene. Through gripping interviews

and testimonials, viewers are given a unique view of drag culture and the LGBTQ community. Not only are we provided with insights into the drag balls, through the interviews with members of the LGBTQ community we are also shown the devastating consequences that AIDS, sex work, and homophobia had on members of the community. Through an exploration of the African American, Latino, gay, and transgender communities within the drag ball scene, Paris is Burning provides interesting (and at the time, revolutionary) observations regarding gender, sexuality, class and race in New York during the 1980s. -Jessica Egan

LO AND BEHOLD, REVERIES OF THE CONNECTED WORLD (Werner Herzog, 2016)

Werner Herzog’s 2016 documentary begins at the University of California, Berkeley, a place he describes as, “Ground Zero of one of the biggest revolutions we as humans are experiencing.” Following computer scientist and internet pioneer, Leonard Kleinrock, into the room where the first internet message was communicated between his Berkeley colleagues and the Stanford Research Institute. Kleinrock enthusiastically retells the story of how the system crashed mid-way through the word “login” simply delivering the letters “lo”. “As in lo and behold, we couldn’t have asked for a more succinct, more powerful, more prophetic message than ‘lo’”, exclaims Kleinrock. This documentary is more an impressionistic exploration of the internet’s revolution rather than being entirely comprehensive. Divided into ten segments, such as, “The Glory of the Net,” The Dark Side,” and “The Future,” Herzog meets scientists, hackers, robot designers, futurologists, internet addicts, Elon Musk and modern day hermits who want nothing more than to escape online radiation. The revolution of the internet is equally celebrated for its ever-evolving contribution to the world and society and lamented for its erosion of privacy and critical-thinking skills. This talking-head style documentary favours no side. The ten-segment structure merely scratches the surface of each topic raised, which has the ability to whet your appetite to seek more information and to find your own stance on the moral and critical revolution that is to come with the future of the internet. -Samantha Mooney

PENELOPE

LOVE AND MERCY

Penelope begins as all great fairy tale films do, with the wistful expository narration of its heroine. The beautiful princess at the centre, ready and waiting for her prince to rescue her. Penelope presents each of these classic but well-worn tropes only to subvert them. This makes the film a heartwarming fairy tale with good production value and good actors that refreshingly plays with the fairy tale romance structure with a subtle but nonetheless feminist take on the genre. First we have the standard trope of the princess cursed by an evil witch. However, Penelope is not cursed with the passivity of other heroines, she is not sent asleep awaiting rescue. She is given the face of a pig, snout and all. Our princess character however remains beautiful, not least because she is played by Christina Ricci but because she is charming, funny and intelligent. This film appreciates its female lead at a level deeper than skin. When it comes to the rescuing, Penelope is presented with countless suitors who are simply not up to the task at hand. It transpires that Penelope must look within, the only way she can be happy is if she finds contentment and confidence within, not relying on those around her to qualify her value based on her appearance. Penelope learns to be beautiful because of her imperfections rather than in spite of them, a simple but powerful message. Of course, with James McAvoy floating around, Penelope is tempted by love, but romance in this film is just a byproduct of making friends and reconciling with family. Any romantic union is less of an end goal here and more of a stop along the way as Penelope dives in, experiencing everything she missed out on. This is a truly heartwarming film that carries an important message of self worth that is all too easily overlooked. -Rebecca Wynne-Walsh

(Mark Palansky, 2006)

(Bill Pohlad, 2014)

In the midst of the cultural pandemonium surrounding The Beatles, the fascinating story of The Beach Boys can often be overlooked. Bill Pohlad’s superb biopic charts the rise and fall of a truly innovative musical talent, showing the darker side of a band most renowned for their catchy singles “I Get Around”, “Surfin U.S.A”, and “Good Vibrations”. The film features two parallel narratives, the first follows a young Brian Wilson, played to perfection by the doe eyed Paul Dano. The second takes place in the 1980s, and sees an older Wilson (John Cusack) battle with his mental health under the guidance of his controlling 24/7 therapist Eugene Landy, whose emotional manipulation of Wilson is played to malevolent perfection by Paul Giamatti. Cusack and Dano deliver memorable and convincing performances, capturing Wilson’s deterioration from ineffable, excited innovator to tortured existentialist. Pohlad uses sound to great effect throughout the film, blending the band’s catalogue with moments of cinematic silence, and overlapping voices meant to represent Wilson’s paranoia and schizophrenia. Despite its darker revelations, the film is thoroughly enjoyable. It is difficult not to get swept along with Wilson’s euphoria as he delights in his remarkable creation. This is an excellent biopic and an engrossing piece of narrative filmmaking. While you do not need to be a fan to enjoy it, you undoubtedly will be after. -Ellen Pentony

D E N I S V I L L E

N E U V E The Disappearing Puppet-Master By Brendan Marx There is a subtle mastery to Denis Villeneuve’s visual storytelling, a nuanced orchestration of thought and emotion that surges within a viewer of his films, carrying them down into the recesses of the mind. Villeneuve’s genius resides there, within those profound spaces of thought, through which we often fear to amble. We might think of Villeneuve’s direction as the Virgil to the viewer’s Dante, leading us into the Hell of the mind. What distinguishes Villeneuve from other directors is not necessarily content, but form and technique. Traversing the labyrinth of the mind, we find ourselves at the obscure core of human experience and, turning to ask our guide what it all means, we find that Villeneuve has abandoned us. We are left to find our own way out, to translate the chaos into order. The idea of descent is pervasive throughout Villeneuve’s films and appears in numerous of the film’s final acts. In the climactic moments of Sicario (2015), Emily Blunt’s Kate Macy must navigate the tunnels of the

American-Mexican border where she discovers the truth of Benicio Del Toro’s character Alejandro. This discovery forces her to confront and relinquish her own ideas of justice and order. Prisoners (2013) offers a similar reflection; Hugh Jackman’s Keller Dover’s relentless search for his daughter concludes with his imprisonment in a dark hole, where all his hope is forfeited after he finds his daughter’s missing whistle and Keller is left asking God to protect his daughter. Enemy (2013), though lacking a physical descent, shows the complexity of a psychological fall. The audience remains quite uncertain as to the singularity of Jake Gyllenhaal’s Adam Bell and Anthony Claire. Are they the same person? If so, can they be thought of as the same person if he performs their identity differently? And again, the transition of Amy Adams’ Louise Banks from one language to another as she attempts to communicate with visiting aliens in Arrival (2016). Her deteriorating

sanity, perhaps even madness, is the result of a reprogramming of thought and time, and Villeneuve questions our understanding and relation to both. What does it mean to think within a language that expresses itself over time? How does language structure experience? These, and numerous others, are the kinds of questions Villeneuve asks of his viewers. What is interesting about Villeneuve’s direction is that he does not provide any explicit answers to the questions the films ask. He gestures to some semblance of possible answers and then absconds, disappears, leaving the questions to resonate with the audience. Perhaps the questions of identity in Enemy, of morality in Prisoners and Sicario, and of language and time in Arrival are too complex for answers; but this reveals something of Villeneuve’s much-admired technique. In a reversal of classical form, Villeneuve does not close the questions of his films. Though the film might have a cathartic ending, the questions remain in the thoughts of the viewers as reflections. Shifting the question from the subject of the film, to the illusive ‘I’ – the viewer. Do I think the chaotic and illegal actions of Matt Graver’s (Josh Brolin) special joint task force is justified in Sicario? How do I perform my own identities? How does my use of language determine my existence in time? To what ends will I descend to protect my family and rescue my daughter? In Villeneuve’s films, the detached cinematic world spills into our worlds as questions about numerous aspects of social and existential ideas. Villeneuve uses film as a medium through which to challenge what people think they know and deconstruct the very premise of knowing. What better way to do this than in the game of information that is film direction? Narrative driven cinematic storytelling operates around the exchange of information. The director selects a series of images and ideas to present to the viewer, who then distils the stimulus into a piece of information they will use to decipher the enigma that resides at the core of the narrative. Villeneuve is a master of playing with what the audience knows. The first montage of Louise Banks’ daughter in Arrival is a perfect example of how Villeneuve puppets the audience into thinking that her daughter precedes the arrival of

the aliens. This brilliant use of the Kuleshov effect, the successive display of images in montage to create an idea, articulates how Villeneuve uses our conception of time’s linearity against us to expand on the films themes of time and language. Arrival’s form simulates its content; the redefining of time through the language of film. Villeneuve does something similar in Prisoners by placing visual and narrative traces as to the identity of the kidnapper and, if only for a

will confront in its centre. We are lead, as Dante is lead, deeper and deeper into the symbolic darkness of experience and thought, solving the riddles Villeneuve conceals in the architecture of the maze. Nearing the epicentre of the philosophical labyrinth Villeneuve creates, with film as its walls and guiding light, we turn the corner and find ourselves in an empty chamber. There is no monster to defeat, no great demon to duel. There is just you; alone. Villeneuve’s tangible antagonists are

ENEMY

SICARIO

ARRIVAL moment, the audience is convinced of the kidnapper’s identity, of course, they are later proven incorrect. It is these reversals and plot-twists that hold Villeneuve’s philosophical framework together, a philosophy that seeks to challenge its viewers and deconstruct systems of thought by subverting our expectations. So we descend deeper into the maze Villeneuve constructs for us, anxious about what monster we

symbolize. After the films here looms behind them in the shadows the symbolic threat invulnerable to steel and bullets. And, there in that exposed space, Villeneuve lets go of the strings he used to puppet us to this chamber, crushing what we thought we knew against this symbolic antagonist. We realize then that we have forgotten how to walk.

REVOLUTIONARY SEQUENCE By Ellen Pentony Few sequences have been as revolutionary in modern cinema as Martin Scorsese’s one shot wonder in Goodfellas. The “Copa shot”, as it has become known, revitalised a complex and intricate technique that few had tried before, revolutionising filmmaking in the process. While the Steadicam technique was first used in the 1976 Hal Ashby film Bound For Glory, Scorsese’s masterful and intricate choreography has garnered the shot acclaim and recognition. In this particular scene protagonist Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) escorts his romantic interest Lorraine (Lauren Bracco) into the Copacabana Club. Skipping the queue, Henry leads her through the kitchen entrance, overtly bribing the staff as he swaggers through. The camera follows from a short distance as they walk through a dimly lit hallway lined with deep red walls. As they move through the kitchen, Scorsese’s excellent

direction is foregrounded as each cast member moves perfectly in time with the camera while Steadicam operator Larry McConkey maintains the rhythm of the shot. In a musical-esque motion, a waiter swoops in from the side of the frame with a table draped in a white flowing table cloth. We follow this waiter to the front of the stage where they make space for Henry and Lorraine right beside the stage. Despite moving through several busy environments, Henry and Lorraine stay in the centre of the frame, signifying Hill’s power and status. The world moves around him and he has the power to walk through it at any given time. In terms of lighting, blocking and movement, the Copa shot is a remarkable piece of filmmaking. McConkey has said that in premise, what Scorsese wanted was a logistical nightmare and it was impossible to maintain coherent framing throughout the shot due to Liotta and Bracco’s

constant movement. This is why we see the actors stop so frequently, to allow McConkey to keep up and adjust to their positions. Henry’s bribes and charismatic interactions with passers-by were therefore a technical necessity that happen to also illustrate his power hungry persona. Anecdotes such as this highlight how the most genius cinematic moments can be born of improvisation and necessity. The fluidity and complexity of the shot effectively symbolise Henry’s determination to maintain his carefully crafted suave persona in order to impress Lorraine is an excellent visual and narrative device in the film. The Copa shot quite literally takes us on a tour of Henry’s new found privilege. While it may not be the first example of the Steadicam in action, it is nonetheless one of its most revolutionary applications and one which has inspired countless filmmakers in the process.

Whether to your disgust or delight, the vegan lifestyle is gathering momentum. One reason for this growth is the awareness raised by films like Cowspiracy: The Sustainability Secret, of which the Indiegogo fundraising page claimed “together we aren’t just creating a movie, we are creating a movement!” Directors Kip Andersen and Keegan Kuhn clearly knew that their in-depth exploration of the toxic relationship between the environment, animal agriculture and big business would instigate change but in terms of what the film exposes, and the impact its content has had on viewers, it is undeniably revolutionary. The insightful, often comical, film questions viewers’ understanding of their individual environmental impact. Andersen, who also stars in the film, becomes alarmed upon discovering that animal agriculture is a huge contributor to climate change and he investigates environmental organisations who fail to publicise this. What follows reveals the dark side of industries that the average consumer supports, and the deplorable cycles that they perpetuate, every time milk is added to tea or chicken nuggets are availed of after a night out. What is seen cannot be unseen and activist filmmakers make the most of this by taking advantage of the visual medium at their fingertips. For this reason many people are wary of watching documentaries like Cowspiracy for the fear that they will be influenced and feel the need to change their lifestyle. Despite their undesirable subject matters, these films find ways to persuade audiences to sample them.

Cleverly sugar-coating their message with the use of memorable, punny names like Cowspiracy and What the Health instantly makes these films stand out and prompt conversation. I’ll be honest, 50% of my decision to watch the latter was informed by its title. The other 50% was influenced by my love of the film’s executive producer, Joaquin Phoenix. Evidently another way these documentaries draw an audience in is by having a celebrity’s stamp of approval. Leonardo DiCaprio, star of his own environmental documentary, Before the Flood (available on YouTube) also executive produced Cowspiracy before it was released on Netflix. PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) has named Netflix “Company of the Year” for 2017 as a gesture of gratitude for making so many animal-rights films available to the masses (Netflix-original Okja included). Hearing the word PETA can instantly alienate people as it has associations with pushy, manipulative and controversial animal-welfare tactics. With Cowspiracy, Andersen and Kuhn have found a more palatable way of influencing audiences to ditch the meat and dairy. It does not force viewers to cower behind their fingers with explicit displays of harrowing slaughterhouse imagery. For the most part this documentary targets common sense over the emotional torment that characterises some other anti-animal product appeals. It favours statistics relayed through vivid animations and manages to communicate the sinister by-products of the meat and dairy industry in ways that will be more chilling to some than foregrounding the

d n a y c a r Cowspi f o e s i R e th m s i n a g e V y r a n o i t u l Revo By Síomha McQuinn

death of animals. Another way Cowspiracy has found its audience is through word-ofmouth. This speaks volumes to the enthusiastic and loyal following it has accumulated and leads me to the second part of my discussion. For those with which Cowspiracy resonates the most it is truly revolutionary. These individuals are inspired to become part of a collective that strives to adjust their lifestyles in accordance with the film’s insights. There is a tendency for some activist films to leave audience members feeling discouraged about their ability to make a valuable difference. Cowspiracy, on the other hand, emphasises that cutting animal products out of the average diet makes a huge difference and it is a practice that any audience member can adopt immediately. The power to drive change is in their hands. Cowspiracy empowers audiences and prompts them to encourage others to watch it. In my experience, despite how it might feel, vegans do not wish to force their lifestyles upon others. It can be frustrating for vegans to see people who rely heavily on animal-products in their diets because of the shocking revelations they have encountered in Cowspiracy and other sources. Cowspiracy, therefore, becomes a “go-to” recommendation for vegans who wish to engage in a more open, and less heated, discussion with those who might criticise them for their diet. It does not force veganism on the spectator but it makes it pretty difficult to argue against. Considering the devotion of audience members to Cowspiracy it

is reasonable to categorise it as a cult film. Cult films, for example The Room and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, gain their status as such once they accumulate a significant, but niche, audience. Traditionally, adoring cult-fans are extremely knowledgeable in relation to their film of choice and celebrate it with special screenings along with other fans. The Cowspiracy fan-base respond to it in a similar way which exceeds the boundaries of the film itself. They are passionate about the film’s message and become a support system for each other when adopting a lifestyle that often presents challenges. Cowspiracy is revolutionary as it exposes injustices and falsehoods in our society. If nothing else it promotes a healthy scepticism within the viewer but for many it prompts a lifestyle change. This change can be as simple as going from “hating” vegans to genuinely understanding their motivation. It is a film about actively questioning our society. Of course, viewers should approach Cowspiracy cautiously as well. Like all documentaries, and all film for that matter, every shot and sound is chosen with the filmmaker’s intention in mind and is likely to demonstrate bias. The makers of Cowspiracy have an agenda and all of the evidence they present is careful to reinforce that. In any case, it is a film that has encouraged many people to live their lives differently and if that cannot be classed as revolutionary, I don’t know what can. If you are curious and find yourself trawling through Netflix, give Cowspiracy a go. Who knows, you might be compelled to join the revolution.

ICONIC SHOT By Paul Dunne

Before I discuss the shot itself, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d like to give it some context, to justify it as iconic. Before Touch of Evil Orson Welles had been absent from Hollywood for ten years after having been figured as reckless, pompous, and difficult by the major studios. Touch of Evil was framed as his return to the limelight, his comeback and reinstatement into Hollywood. With such enormous expectations and pressures many would crumble or compromise, but not Welles. What better way to re-announce yourself to the press and public than an unbroken, three minutes and twenty-seconds long tracking shot.

TOUCH OF EVIL

(Orson Welles, 1958) Welles ambitiously demanded the world of his cinematographer Russell Metty and he delivered miraculously. The shot begins with a closeup of a bomb, as a couple walk towards the camera in the distance. Pulling slightly back, we follow the mysterious bomber as he plants the bomb on a car. Pulling further back and high into the sky, we see the couple enter the car and drive between two buildings. The camera tracks the car laterally, matching its movement onto a lively street, while continually zooming out. A host of extras as pedestrians and fellow drivers filter in and out of frame as the couple wait in traffic.

The car proceeds forward, approaching the camera before being stopped as another couple crosses the road. The camera lowers and matches the walking pace of this new couple, with the bombed car driving through the frame and past the camera. Another traffic stop places the car in the background with the walking couple as the focus of the frame, until both the car and couple share the frame and the focus. The car finally drives out of frame as we zoom in on the couple as they begin to kiss, syncing with the offscreen explosion of the bomb, ending this incredible long shot. The crane and camera work of

thid shot is astounding. The varying paces and heights of the crane in combination with exact focuses, angles and zooms create a gracefully controlled opening that sucks us into Wellesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; world before shocking us. Personally, this shot is iconic for me not just for its particular context or its impeccable execution, but for its immersion. The logic of film demands that we believe that there are no differences between what lies inside and outside of frame. Welles and Metty deliver on this superbly, showing us everything they can. The opening of Touch of Evil feels real, like a lived in world, and that is what makes it iconic.

Twelve years after its theatrical release, the cultural iconography of V for Vendetta remains. Masks bearing the stylized visage of Guy Fawkes, designed by David Lloyd for the comic series in 1982 and further popularized in its film adaptation, have become one of the most prolific symbols of contemporary protest and revolution. Despite its cultural significance, V for Vendetta remains a profoundly overrated film. Directed by James McTeigue and written and co-produced by the Wachowskis, V for Vendetta centers on a masked revolutionary, V (Hugo Weaving), hoping to overthrow the Norsefire Party, a tyrannical regime in dystopian future England, with the help of a young woman named Evey (Natalie Portman). The film demonstrates the issues that arise in the adaptation of graphic novels to film. V for Vendetta’s source material comes from a 1980s comic series of the same name, written by Alan Moore and illustrated by David Lloyd.The original series, in the words of Moore, “was about fascism, it was about anarchy, it was about England.” The chief revolutionary, V, was not so much a troubled anti-hero as the film portrays him, but an insane anarchist who operates in a morally ambiguous gray zone. In the comic, the Norsefire Party are flawed, albeit developed characters rather than one-dimensional villains overly-reminiscent of the Third Reich. The Wachowskis ignore many of the nuanced thematic elements of the initial comic in favour of a simplistic good vs evil parable of American liberal values overthrowing the bigotry of Bush-era conservatives, laden with clichés and plot holes, and leaving no room for subtlety. V for Vendetta not only misunderstands the intent of its source

over RATED V FOR VENDETTA (James

McTeigue, 2005)

By Keelin Shaughnessy material, but oversimplifies the complexities of revolution and human nature to such a degree that it renders a film devoid of depth and thought-provoking material. That’s not to say that every film must be thought-provoking or complex, but when a film as facile as V for Vendetta continues to provide inspiration, or at least iconography, for real-life revolutions, it bears scrutinizing. In an era rife with bigoted world-leaders, militaristic police forces, biased news sources, and anti-minority sentiments, it might seem that V for Vendetta has never been more relevant than today. Certainly this seems to be the case for many intellectually-inept internet users, who have taken V’s words as a rallying cry and flock to the comments sections of Youtube clips of the film to declare a similar sentiment. But despite the Wachowskis’ apparent attempt to frame V for Vendetta as an allegory for contemporary politics, it lacks the nuance required to merit genuine

consideration as such. The hacktivists, Wall Street occupiers, and other various anti-establishment groups who have adopted V for Vendetta’s Guy Fawkes mask as an icon of rebellion are likely unaware that Time Warner, one of the largest media and entertainment conglomerates in the world, owns the rights to the infamous design and are paid a licensing fee for each mask sold. The mask is not so much an icon of rebellion as it is a commodified product. V for Vendetta is not a bad film, per se. Looking past Natalie Portman’s horrific attempt at an English accent, a multitude of clichéd lines such as “artists use lies to tell the truth; politicians tell lies to obscure the truth”, and a lack of complex plot or characters, it remains an entertaining film in many regards. But at its core, V for Vendetta is a vapid film masquerading as something far more advanced than it truly is. It is decidedly overrated.

UNDER R A T E D AMAZING GRACE (Michael

Apted, 2006)

By Rebecca Wynne-Walsh Amazing Grace is a grossly underrated film in every regard. It features a superb cast, many of whom have never received the fame they deserve. Its visuals are classic but beautiful. Under the masterful direction of Michael Apted it succeeds in finding new vibrancy and excitement in the well-worn biopic structure. But, most importantly, it tells a story that is criminally under-told with respect to its value in human history. Amazing Grace follows British politician William Wilberforce along his lifelong journey to make the world a better place, culminating in his incredible leadership of the British Abolition movement which, in 1833 after much struggle, climaxed in the British abolition of the slave-trade. Wilberforce is an impressive figure of humanitarianism. The many causes he supported throughout his career included campaigns against animal cruelty, campaigns for better living conditions in prisons and outspoken support for Irish independence. All

of these endeavours are necessarily overshadowed by his leadership and success within the British anti-slavery movement, the cause which is the central focus of Apted’s film. The title of the film is derived from the hymn of the same name which, in another undertold story, was written by John Newton, a former crewman on countless slave ships, who gave his life to religion upon witnessing the horrors of the trade he was a part of. The film is led by the commanding acting talents of Ioan Gruffudd. Gruffudd is known to most as Mister Fantastic from the (also underrated) 2005 Fantastic 4 movie. His Hollywood career has rarely afforded him a character of such depth but his emotionally complex portrayal of Wilberforce is one to be commended that honestly, should have garnered him an Oscar nomination. Gruffudd emotively but never exaggeratedly takes us through Wilberforce’s deteriorating health, his frustration, his

disillusionment and most powerfully, his passionate determination. Gruffudd steals numerous scenes with his resounding speeches and easy charm but instinctively knows when generosity is key and when a scene must be led by another performance. If chivalry were dead then, in this film, Gruffudd steers its resurrection. Gruffudd is supported by a stellar ensemble. Romola Garai delights as his intelligent and forceful wife who refuses to allow his fight to be lost. A young Benedict Cumberbatch entertains as British Prime Minister William Pitt, the Sundance Kid to Wilberforce’s Butch Cassidy as it were. And Albert Finney inspires as the aforementioned hymn-writer who so powerfully ignites the fires of revolution in the idealistic mind of William Wilberforce. Amazing Grace fractures the chronology of its story so that we flit between Wilberforce as a young and energetic politician at the beginning of his career, key turning points throughout that career and his final days as his weak health spirals out of control during climactic parliament debates surrounding his life’s mission. This scintillating structure was written by Steven Knight, who went on to put his talents to worthy use on such landmark productions as Peaky Blinders and Taboo. Knight’s talent for narrative is as apparent here as in his later works as he manages to reignite the familiar biopic structure to bring a worthy level of excitement to the thrilling tale at hand. Once you have watched this underrated film you will find yourself researching its key players with fervour, forever emotionally affected by this story of empowerment, freedom, passion and human rights.

X-MEN

(Bryan Singer, 2000)

THE SUPERHERO MOVIE A New Film Genre By Oisín Walsh It would prove difficult to attend a cinema today without seeing a promotion for at least one superhero portrayal, be it an adaptation of a Marvel character, a DC character or even entirely new heroes such as Pixar’s The Incredibles. The superhero genre has profoundly impacted popular culture today with more people listening to the “golden oldie songs” from Guardians of the Galaxy to fans of The Dark Knight trilogy quoting villains like Heath Ledger’s Joker and Tom Hardy’s Bane frequently. It is shocking to see how quickly superhero fandom has entered the main-

stream. The genre is a phenomenon that has seized power at a rapid pace and only promises to continue to consolidate that control with no end in sight. It has only been in the past twenty years that superhero cinema really developed. Prior to this, the leading men of the DC universe had undergone the cinematic treatment with Tim Burton committing Batman to the screen as played by Michael Keaton with Batman and Batman Returns and a number of Superman films released with Christopher Reeve in the title role. Batman eventually fell

to Val Kilmer and then George Clooney in Batman Forever and Batman & Robin, both films which left a great deal to be desired. Likewise the last half of the Superman film series was widely panned with even Reeve stating, “the less said about Superman IV the better”. It comes as no surprise then that these series failed to ignite the production line of superhero films we are accustomed to today. There are a number of key milestones which stand out on the superhero cinema timeline. In 2000 Bryan Singer’s X-Men was released to wide audience and critical acclaim. This is the point when the cinematic superhero took off. It spawned the still active X-Men series and a number of other comic book adaptations. Other Marvel characters soon found success in The Fantastic Four and Sam Rami’s Spider-Man trilogy. Raimi’s Spider-Man 2 was widely considered the greatest superhero film of all time at the point of its release. The X-Men franchise continues to make cinema history with Logan, directed and co-written by James Mangold, receiving an Academy Award nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay. This marks the first time that a superhero film has been acknowledged by the Academy for the quality of its story, noting a shift in attitude towards the superhero genre. People no longer consider the genre to be made up of easy, popular entertainment for the masses.

Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight trilogy is another turning point in the superhero genre. It demonstrated that comic book characters could be adapted into a world governed by gritty realism. Batman Begins received eight nominations at the 2008 Academy Awards and marked the first time that a superhero film had been honoured in one of the major categories when Heath Ledger posthumously won for Best Supporting Actor. His turn as the Joker transformed the character from being a flamboyant quirky criminal, to a deeply disturbed, unhinged, domestic terrorist. The Dark Knight existed within its own world, not introducing a world of super-powered characters like Marvel Studios later did. The film attracted a wider mainstream audience and solidified the notion that the must see film of the year could be a superhero film. It is perhaps Marvel’s Iron Man (2008) which cemented this blooming genre and the film’s success catapulted Robert Downey Jr. back to his former movie stardom. This was the first film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), a media franchise which is soon to boast eighteen films in less than ten years with the release of Black Panther. This phenomenal growth is likely due to the creation of a universe which allows for fans to become engaged with various characters in their standalone films like Captain America and Thor before seeing them all come together in The Avengers. This formula continues to produce results with each film in the MCU receiving generally positive reviews and has successfully filled cinemas with audiences eager to hear Vin Diesel state “I am GROOT,” several times. The MCU has even expanded into the realm of television, further embedding audiences into the almost inescapable superhero genre. The success of the MCU is a clear catalyst for the DC Extended Universe (DCEU) which has been, up to this point, unable to effectively challenge Marvel’s dominance. It began with 2013’s Man Of Steel with Henry Cavill portraying the eponymous hero under the direction of Zack Snyder, previously known for his dystopian superhero film Watchmen. Despite the lukewarm reception of the film, the universe continued with the introduction of a new Batman, played by Ben Affleck, to challenge

“

People no longer consider the genre to be made up of easy, popular entertainment for the masses.

”

Superman in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. The film was an incredible box office success but was received poorly by audiences and critics. Similarly, Suicide Squad directed by David Ayer was a highly anticipated entry that ultimately was widely panned by its viewers. It was only with Patty Jenkins’ 2017

blockbuster, Wonder Woman, that the DCEU felt the glory of widespread acclaim. Gal Gadot’s performance as the iconic superhero was praised and it seemed to be the “Hail Mary” that the DCEU needed for future development. Lastly we have Justice League, a film which polarized audiences. Some found it to be dominated by messy action sequences, which the franchise is infamously known for. Others appreciated its tonal shift, marking a more hopeful future for the franchise, which has been dogged by poor action sequences and shallow characters. Between Marvel and DC, international audiences can enjoy a guaranteed five superhero film releases every year. I have omitted discussion of a number of other superhero films like M. Night Shyamalan’s Unbreakable or even the charming Lego Batman Movie, but frankly there have been so many superhero films in the past twenty years that it could easily fill this issue. This trend shows no signs of stopping. At this rate, a blockbuster film without a superhero character could soon become a rarity and the superhero film genre will have carved out a clear space for itself in cinema history.

WONDER WOMAN

(Patty Jenkins, 2017)

MICHAEL COLLINS (Neil Jordan, 1996)

REBELLION DONE JUSTICE Revolutionary Ireland on Screen By Sophia McDonald Watching any film that centres around revolution awakens a plethora of emotions. From fierce pride to uncontrollable anger, it is easy to get caught up in historical adaptations as if they are fact. As I am not a history buff of any sort, I can let the inaccuracies sail over my head and let myself become immersed in the romantic depictions of Irish history. There is something unique that comes from film which cannot be created by any other medium, that is, inclusion. Whilst a book can introduce you to a different world, it also runs the risk of alienation and emotional detachment. Film, especially film that is based in the country you have been raised in and whose streets you continue to wander, lets you be a part of the story. That inclusion is critical when watching historical films about your own country, especially those that reflect times where rebellion was on everyone’s lips. As with most revolutions, bloodshed will be inevitable and the Irish War of Independence was no exception. The beginning of the uproar of the Irish people stemmed from the 1916 Rising. Even though it was not the most organised rebellion, the idea of revolution wormed itself into the minds and hearts of the people. In Michael Collins, we see Liam Neeson depicting Collins himself alongside the late Alan Rickman as the Long Fella, Eamon DeValera. In the opening scene the pair find themselves lined up as the leaders of the Rising are gathered for execution. Neeson is

a fiery Collins, enraged by the injustice of British rule. This is continued throughout as he begins to earn himself the moniker of Irish revolutionary and true legend. Although Neeson delivers a fantastic performance, his character is romanticised as the tragic hero. He commits himself to the cause and is portrayed as the martyr who won the Free State and an angel sent down to save the Irish people from British rule. This romanticism makes the film comical at times. One scene sees a British officer shot in his vehicle. Whilst this should be a dramatic moment that depicts the brutality of the rebels, a Dublin voice in the background shouts, “oh for fuck’s sake”, breaking the tension. Most of the brutal executions of British officers, although warranted within the context, are portrayed in this oddly casual manner. The grittiness that Michael Collins lacks is made up for in Ken Loach’s The Wind That Shakes the Barley. The brutal crimes inflicted by the Black and Tans is emphasised throughout the film and draws your attention away from Dublin, the hub of most of the revolutionary action. The poignant scenes of heartbreak, unmotivated attacks and family feuds make this film a classic in its own right. The burning of houses and the murder of innocent rural people reflect the harsh British rule that came down on Ireland post-Rising. This refreshing take doesn’t shy away from the determination that the rebels had to rid themselves of their cruel

THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY (Ken Loach, 2006)

oppressors. The locals are terrorised but the rebels have their flaws also which is highlighted by the conflict between Cillian Murphy and his onscreen brother Teddy (played to powerful perfection by Pádraic Delaney) as they fall on opposite sides of the conflict. There is no hiding from the harsh, brutal reality that was the Irish War of Independence. The seriousness of this time period is emphasised by the lack of music in The Wind that Shakes the Barley. Men are lined up against their farmhouses, looking down the barrels of British guns. Powerless, they witness new atrocities every day, another local dead for catching the eye of a soldier. All of this surrounded by stark silence. The rare appearance of musical accompaniment comes with the training of the local men to become soldiers. They crawl through the rugged landscape with camáns as guns. Traditional Irish music softly plays as they begin to find the determination to fight back. Michael Collins is different in that its use of music is jovial. It fulfils an Irish stereotype by having fast paced traditional tunes in the backdrop of most scenes. It begs the question, can revolutions be viewed as triumphs as well as tragedies? Many lives were lost in the War of Independence with plenty of sacrifices made to establish a Republic, albeit not the full 32 counties. In both of these screen depictions,

the national trauma strikes a chord. Whether it was a message sent in secret or a bullet fired, there was determination and passion behind each act, big or small. One of the most poignant scenes offered by these films is at the beginning of The Wind that Shakes the Barley. Black and Tans flood the courtyard of a rural cottage, ordering every man to stand against the wall for violent inspection, as punishment for taking part in a gathering: a hurling match. The Black and Tans scream at the innocent Irish, demanding names. One of the men, aged only seventeen, proudly refuses to speak English and repeatedly gives his name as Gaeilge. For this he is killed, and the soldiers leave his beaten body as a warning, in his family’s barn. He never got to fight on the battlefield but he fought against the British with the simplest of actions. Whilst the rebels are romanticised to a certain extent, the way Loach’s film depicts them remains true to what they fought for and how they fought. They were trained by each other and were poorly armed, threatened every day and murdered without a second thought. The passion that drove them forward is in every shot and piece of dialogue. The films present those who fought for self-governance and freedom, making these films honourable depictions of a war well-fought.

GAME CHANGERS TFR’s writers look at moments that changed film history. 1. GENE KELLY’S REINVIGORATION OF THE MOVIE MUSICAL

Gene Kelly is a controversial character among fans of classic Hollywood musicals. The Kelly versus Astaire debacle is one that can be likened to the Lyon’s versus Barry’s debate in both the importance of content and the passionate stance of each side. Regardless of what side you fall down on, it is an undeniable fact the the technical innovations Gene Kelly brought to his films revolutionised the ways in which musicals were made and consumed. The technical and ideological fantasies presented in Kelly’s musicals are inherently revolutionary because they ask you to imagine another reality, a reality of limitless imagination and, of course, dance. Kelly’s innovations begin at a relatively small scale and gradually expand until we reach the jaw-dropping new heights of Kelly’s genre redefining “The American in Paris Ballet” in Vincente Minnelli’s 1951 masterpiece. In the seventeen minute long ballet sequence, Kelly

and his massive ensemble retell the narrative through ballet as they dance through sets of the recreated paintings of Renoir, Rousseau and Toulouse-Lautrec among others. This sequence was an unheard of endeavour in the supposedly lowbrow movie musical form. Kelly succeeded in reconfiguring the critical understanding of an entire genre. As early as his fourth feature film, Kelly began taking the creative reins to allow his dances to reach new heights. In Cover Girl, Kelly orchestrated a dance number with his own reflection. In Anchors Aweigh, he combined live-action and animation entering a cartoon world and dancing with Jerry Mouse (of Tom and Jerry). Kelly can be considered a natural successor to Busby Berkeley in his true recognition of the possibilities posed in marrying cinema and dance, the possibility for dance to be experienced in a way that is impossible live, a true reinvigoration of the art form.

2. KUBRICK’S REINVIGORATION OF THE SCIENCE IN SCIENCE FICTION.

In the science fiction genre, no film has been as innovative and revolutionary as Stanley Kubrick’s magnum opus, 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). One of the main reasons it is a “game changer” is its commitment to accuracy. With the US and the USSR in the middle of the Space Race, spacecraft and equipment were constantly evolving. Kubrick, who was known for his excruciatingly close attention to detail, hired several astronomical artists and aeronautic experts in order to ensure that the mise-en-scène of spaceship Discovery One was as accurate and as upto-date as possible.This commitment made 2001 one of the most faultless representations of space flight. There

was also a huge commitment to the special effects, including the 30-ton rotating wheel set to create the look of centripetal motion and zero-gravity of the Discovery One spacecraft, and the use of the revolutionary slit scan photography created by Douglas Trumbull to create the “Star Gate” sequence. This dedication to aesthetic accuracy and stunning visuals sets 2001 apart from other science fiction films of the 1960s such as Barbarella and Planet of the Apes. With its stunning visuals of space set to the music of Johann Strauss II and Gyorgy Ligeti, this film is not just a science fiction classic, it is a great artistic achievement that will continue to amaze for generations to come. - Robyn Kilroy

3. AMÉLIE AND BRIDGING THE GAP BETWEEN THE MULTIPLEX AND THE ART HOUSE.

Hollywood titles reign supreme in the category of films that revolutionised cinema. From Citizen Kane to Psycho to Jurassic Park, American influence seems to dominate. When venturing beyond the realm of

the multiplex and into the art-house, Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari, Ladri di Biciclette and Les 400 Coups are cited as revolutionary products of the European market. These films hold equal weight in cinematic history but

art-house connotations consign them to niche existence. In 2001, Amélie revolutionised cinema by bridging the ever-expanding gap between cinematic influences. The French film, with its exaggeratedly whimsical narrative, set against a backdrop of dazzling visuals, received international acclaim. Not since La Cage aux Folles, released twenty-three years prior, had a French-language film been welcomed into global consciousness with such enthusiasm. Amélie continues to stand the test of time, achieving a fate often elusive to the foreign film:

passage into popular culture. At its core, Amélie is a love story set in Paris. Though a far cry from unconventionality, its treatment of the subject matter renders the film unique. Character eccentricities, existentialism and poeticism are afforded the same narrative importance as romance, rather than functioning exclusively as subtexts thereof. The revolutionary success of Amélie illustrated the capacity of foreign-language film to break into the American market in a twenty-first century context, even when times were hard for dreamers. - Sarah Ratcliffe

4. BLADE RUNNER 2049, INSCRIBING THE TECHNICAL WITH THE EMOTIONAL.

Tangibility, reciprocity, identity, ephemerality, romance and dissolution. All this and more comes to mind during a profound scene in Blade Runner 2049, when the hologram Joi (Ana de Armas) maps herself over the body of the pleasure unit Mariette (Mackenzie Davis) so that she may physically interact with the replicant K (Ryan Gosling). Not only is the moment a visual masterpiece and a cinematic marvel, but it is charged with such philosophical complexity and nuance that, coupled with the delicate piano composition by Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Wallfisch, lifts the viewer from their own sense of self. The existential and

socio-political implications are limitless. Denis Villeneuve masterfully shifts from the film’s tense narrative to this aching moment. The soft lighting, the gray walls of the apartment, the feint neon glows shimmering against the window, all these contribute to a crushing melancholy that washes over the viewer. The sorrow of a faded identity that wants nothing more than to have its existence confirmed, and loved. As Joi overlaps with Mariette, we see our own reflection in their duality and, for just a few tenuous seconds, we experience ourselves as holograms. Joi’s words resonate: “I want to be real for you”. - Brendan Marx

JOHN CASSAVETES The Renaissance Man By James Vickery If Orson Welles is the godfather of independent cinema, then John Cassavetes is surely God himself. A New York-born writer-director-actor of Greek extraction, he was financing, creating, and distributing his films independently long before the indie cinema boom of the 1990s. Whilst Welles’ maverick status is under no doubt, the revolutionary impact of Cassavetes continues to be criminally overlooked outside of independent film circles. It is telling and suitably ironic that the first of Cassavetes’ three Oscar nominations came in 1968. The same year saw the release of his long-gestating relationship drama Faces, his fourth outing as director. With its stark portrayal of a marriage in meltdown, Faces represented a new kind of American film, it was stripped down, improvisatory, immersive and volatile. Like Cassavetes’ first feature, 1959’s Shadows, Faces would go on to inspire the aesthetics and practices of the American New Wave. It is apt that Cassavetes was nominated not in the director’s category, but for his supporting role in the star-studded studio movie The Dirty Dozen. Featuring acting with a capital A, Robert Aldrich’s WWII drama is a pulpy and perfectly thrilling romp. However, it could not be further removed from the groundbreaking, deeply personal films Cassavetes directed, many of which are bona fide masterpieces. This contrast says as much about Hollywood’s myopia when it comes to Cassavetes, as it does

about the tenacious versatility of the man himself. As an on/off-again actor he was more than capable of rubbing shoulders with the elite, he was even considered for the lead in Rebel Without a Cause. He used roles in studio productions like The Dirty Dozen to fund his personal projects. He may not have invented American independent filmmaking, but he did catapult it into the public psyche, providing a workable (if reckless) blueprint on how to operate outside the mainstream Hollywood system. Excepting his own films, perhaps Cassavetes most iconic screen role came as Mia Farrow’s conceited husband in Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby. Pointedly he plays a struggling thespian who literally sells his soul (and his unborn baby) to Satan in order to further his acting career. But while Cassavetes was reputedly exploitative in getting his films made, he was anything but soulless, steadfastly refusing to sell himself to that Lucifer called Hollywood. In an era when so-called “indie cinema” has become a mega industry, wholly supported by the Tinseltown apparatus, Cassavetes’ stubborn belief in his own principles is remarkably refreshing. Most films, even the best ones, are inherently artificial. However the work of Cassavetes is raw and unfiltered in its honesty. From the staggering performances onscreen to the intimate and intense filmmaking process off it, his films are embarrassing in their authenticity. For certain critics, like the influential Pauline Kael, his fascination with mining the true depths of his characters was a perpetual source of scorn and derision. As such, unlike many of the young filmmakers he inspired, Cassavetes retained his outsider status to the extent that in 1974 when he released A Woman Under the Influence, he was still relying on self-distribution. The industry only paid attention after it became a box office hit. It is dumbfounding to think that during the 1970s, a fecund period for American cinema which saw the emergence of innovators like Spielberg and Scorsese (both of whom cut their teeth on Cassavetes’ projects), he remained relatively undervalued and ignored by the mainstream. In spite of the industry rejection Cassavetes invigorated a generation of filmmakers, not least of whom was Martin

Scorsese, whose breakthrough film Mean Streets was heavily indebted to the sparse immediacy and hand-held camerawork he’d seen over a decade prior in Cassavetes’ Shadows. A beatnik infused tale of three African American siblings in 1950s New York, Shadows is slow to the boil but unfolds like an escalating concussive punch. As Scorsese describes it: ‘’You can’t gauge the amount of hope that such an act created for young people. It was like a starting pistol for a race that still keeps going”. After two disheartening experiences shooting studio features in the early 1960s, Cassavetes returned to independent filmmaking with Faces. Brimming with naturalistic and seemingly improvised dialogue (all of Cassavetes

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The revolutionary impact of Cassavetes continues to be criminally overlooked outside of independent film circles.

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films are actually tightly scripted) it had a feeling of spontaneity and reality that Hollywood had shied away from in the past. Shot in black and white in a verité style, Faces also represented the first great part bestowed upon his wife and muse Gena Rowlands. The 1970s saw a slew of stellar Cassavetes films, Husbands, Minnie and Moskowitz, A Woman Under the Influence, Killing of a Chinese Bookie, and Opening Night. A superb run as good as any one of the heavyweight American directors of the era. The fact that he wrote films with complex female roles at a time when most of his contemporaries were obsessed with masculinity is also a testament to his egalitarian worldview. He wasn’t interested in gender or race, so much as he

was interested in people. Obsessed with human relationships and emotions, he explored difficult themes like racism, mental health, ageism and gender roles. Crucially, he gave actors the freedom to express themselves, to express vulnerability. His dialogue is way more than a mere contribution to plot, it highlights people clamouring to be heard. Where many performers tend to portray weakness in a way that belies their true selves, the lead actors in Cassavetes’ films are not afraid to bare their flaws before an audience. Heartbreaking and unabashedly humanist, A Woman Under the Influence is in my opinion Cassavetes’s greatest film. Rowlands is never better than as the mentally unstable Mabel while long-time Cassavetes disciple Peter Falk puts in a career best performance as her despairing husband Nick. Shot almost entirely in Cassavetes’ house, the film is split into two parts, life before Mabel’s committal and after her homecoming, six months later. Filmed with a rag tag crew of unpaid AFI students using borrowed equipment, the haphazard production encapsulates the DIY spirit that governed Cassavetes’ filmmaking. For example, during one outdoor scene, equipment was powered with electricity redirected from a city power cable. Such tales of roguish ingenuity are fundamental to the Cassavetes legend. Whether he was crowdfunding in the 1950s, stealing electricity, or continually mortgaging his house, Cassavetes wasn’t trying to create a legend, he was making films any way he could. The animosity Cassavetes motivated is baffling. Like Welles, his films never guaranteed commercial success. Perhaps it was because he had the audacity to label himself an artist at a time when most critics preferred their art subtitled. Right up until his death in 1989 aged only 59, Cassavetes never relented his faith in movies, in their ability to move us, to connect us to people around us. For him art was not a word to be mocked, but the reason to be alive. Cassavetes not only pre-empted the likes of Scorsese, Jarmusch, Lee, and Linklater, he helped will them into creation. As Scorsese noted, after Shadows, there were “no more excuses” for aspiring filmmakers, “if he could do it, so could we”.

A FANTASTIC WOMAN Review by Rebecca Wynne-Walsh The reputation of A Fantastic Woman precedes it. Helmed by the increasingly acclaimed director Sebastían Lelio and nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the 90th Academy Awards it is certainly not a picture accompanied by low expectations. The apparently straight forward markers of quality are directly contrasted with the complexity of virtually every other aspect of the film. Lelio has described this as his endeavour to defy genre and present a “multi-experiential and multi-emotional” film that pushes the boundaries of empathy and identification beyond genre and, as we come to understand throughout the film, beyond gender. A Fantastic Woman first introduces the viewer to the stable, enviably content relationship between Marina (Daniela Vega) and Orlando (Francisco Reyes) as they celebrate the former’s birthday. Their relationship, while blissfully normal in action crosses a couple of socio-normative boundaries to say the least. The most visually obvious is the fact that Orlando is 30 years Marina’s senior, there is also a disregard for class boundaries with Orlando as the owner of a successful company and Marina as a part-time waitress and struggling

singer. Finally, it soon becomes apparent that their relationship also crosses binary gender boundaries as we learn of Marina’s transgender identity. The nature of this revelation is heartbreaking. The opening sequence of the film spirals hopelessly from domestic bliss to hell on earth. After a romantic evening Orlando falls seriously ill and passes away moments after Marina has rushed him to the hospital. Here, unfortunately, the complications arise and as is often the case in the face of tragedy, Marina’s “fantastic” nature is both tested and strengthened. Marina is faced with unmotivated suspicion, emotional blackmail and terrifying physical abuse as Orlando’s estranged family members attempt to evict her from Orlando’s funeral, home and indeed life. The ensuing clash between the family and Marina presents some scenes that are difficult to watch to say the least. Marina, guided by Vega’s subtle but unflinching performance, remains strong despite these extreme acts of prejudice, all while trying to process her immense grief. The scenes that explore Marina’s psychological and emotional tangents are the most interesting in the film. One only wishes the surrealist impulse behind

these creatively insightful asides had been further privileged as they open an exciting window into the complex emotions Marina is dealing with. These colourful and expressive scenes are juxtaposed with extremely slow paced moments of contemplation, which it must be said, are at times overdone. The tonal shifts between the two strands of the film upsets the unity of the portrait that is being painted. Although this multiplicity may have indeed been the point, it bears noting that it could have been realised with more finesse. Lelio presents his audience with fewer answers than questions but has noted himself that the concept of narrative in this film is purely functional as “a sort of Trojan horse loaded with humanity”. Lelio’s goal is not cognitive but emotive. He vocally recognises the power of cinema as it “invites us to feel like others”. With this as his goal he most certainly succeeds, having created a film brimming with sensuality, emotionality and reflexivity. Though there are moments when this goal could have been achieved a little less heavy handedly and with a smoother style, there is no doubt that A Fantastic Woman is indeed a fantastic film.

Black Panther Review by Oisín Walsh Black Panther is entertainment at its finest. I was engaged with the film from the opening prologue up until the last credit rolled. Ryan Coogler, of Fruitvale Station and Creed fame, directs this instalment in the franchise telling the story of T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman), The Black Panther who, following the events of Civil War and the death of his father, returns home to ascend to the throne as king of Wakanda. Marvel efficiently introduces us to an almost entirely new cast of characters and welcomes us into the fictional nation of Wakanda in a film which charms us with its inspiring story and good humour throughout. The narrative is formulaic but effective. For centuries, Wakanda has kept its huge resource of vibranium (the fictional precious metal which Captain America’s shield is made out of) and benefited greatly from it, advancing in technology faster than any other country on the planet. The rest of the world is ignorant of how developed this African nation is. This puts pressure upon future king T’Challa: should he protect Wakanda from the outside world and risk his people’s safety or should his countrymen reach out a hand to those in need and improve the world? This

narrative is punctuated with tight action scenes revealing the gadgetry and skill at T’Challa’s disposal. Although at times the action appears a little chaotic, it is for the most part well executed. The new characters include T’Challa’s former lover and spy, Nakia (Lupita Nyong’o), and his younger sister Shuri (Letitia Wright) who designs the new technology which runs their vibranium-powered nation and who is dismissive of the conservative traditions. These characters, though fleshed out very quickly appear deeply layered and complex. This is achieved through relatable spirited sibling banter between Shuri and T’Challa. The relationship between Nakia and T’Challa is well managed, suggesting that despite their love for one another they both have separate duties that keep them from fully embracing their romance. Martin Freeman also makes a return from Civil War as Everett K. Ross, a CIA agent who co-operates with T’Challa to protect the throne from anyone who would use its power to wage war against the world. The design of Black Panther is a remarkable achievement. Wakanda is a wonderful image, drenched in sunlight which captures the marvellous variety of colour on display in

this world. Every shot is filled with so much detail and wonder that I found my eyes darting across the screen, trying to absorb the sheer level of detail which the designers had achieved. Wakanda appears as a world which holds so much majesty. One cannot be surprised by the decision to keep it hidden from invasive, destructive forces. The villains are both tragic and hysterical. Firstly, there is Killmonger (played by Coogler favourite, Michael B. Jordan) who seeks to usurp T’Challa’s throne and share Wakanda’s secret resources with the world. His character is despicable yet sympathetic for both his past and in some respects, his cause. Andy Serkis also returns as arms dealer Ulysses Klau. Although he is primarily present to inject humour into proceedings, (the film never lacks in that department) he also acts as a link to the history of Wakanda and a harsh critic of their decision to hide their wealth of resources and knowledge to the wider world. Overall, Black Panther offers charismatic and complex antagonists to motivate the action of the narrative. Black Panther packs a punch. I can’t imagine anyone will leave this film without feeling even a little entertained. Whether you appreciate the touching story, laugh at the readily-delivered comedy, or are hooked on the tight action scenes or in awe of the colourful design, you will have something to enjoy. Black Panther is set to become a standalone Marvel favourite for many.

Loveless

Review by NAZRIN HUSEINZADE Andrey Zvyagintsev’s gritty social dramas have earned him the veneration of the West and certain scepticism in his native Russia. Personally, I rarely find the catastrophised reality that is so common with the given genre either attractive or convincing. In this sense, Loveless has been a transformative experience in what seems as the director’s most poetic film to date. The viewer is instantly drawn into the narrative as a witness of a derelict couple, Zhenya and Boris, going through a divorce. They genuinely feed off loathing each other and, as it happens, there is collateral damage to this scarily routine hatred, the 12-year-old Alyosha whose custody is often debated by his parents at the top of their lungs. Both of them have incidentally found their “true loves” and moved on with their lives where the child no longer fits in. In the midst of their search for a convenient way to write him off, the boy disappears and thus sets Zvyagintsev’s social surgery into motion. Somewhat similarly to Kafka’s Gregor Samsa, Alyosha serves as an incision instrument that cuts through the surface of both mother and father to lay

bare the disturbing images of nothingness. The title points at something that is the opposite of love - not hatred but apathy coupled with the pathological solipsism of human beings. The explicitly allegorical family name, the Sleptsovs, derived from a Russian word for blind, only reiterates this dour display of a lost person. Many will and have called it the new Scenes from a Marriage, and although the director himself admits to similarities, he is not the first or the last one to have inherited Bergman’s microscopic analysis of individuals in a relationship. Loveless also, quite surprisingly, touches on satire in minor moments. On one occasion, the Russian equivalent of The Bachelor is showing in the background as the couple is in the middle of an argument replete with expletives. Another detail triggering a bitter smile is the poster of The Incredibles on the wall in Alyosha’s room depicting the superhero family he never had. Structurally, the film operates in loops with the same opening and ending scene of a barricade tape stuck on a tree. This Nietzschean notion of eternal

return dictates the lives of the characters as a whole. Their brand new blithe relationships are certainly doomed as they perpetuate the same cycle of apathy over and over. The loss of a child, an ostensibly life-changing event, proves to be a temporary inconvenience and fails to provoke any thought or development in either parent. This is best exhibited in one of the final scenes with Zhenya running on a treadmill – a blunt yet spot on metaphor for illusion of moving somewhere while being stationary. The visual homage to Tarkovsky in the film is so heavy that at times it borders on emulation rather than a tribute (not that I am complaining). The most obvious instances are the abandoned palace reminiscent of the Zone in Stalker; or the recreation of Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s The Hunters in the Snow, which was done multiple times by Tarkovsky throughout his work. That said, even with impeccable cinematography, Zvyagintsev’s films have tendency towards being bitter pills to swallow. As such, they will not appeal to everyone’s taste. Neither will Loveless soothe those thirsty for a gulp of an anti-government protest. With the political commentary still on the surface, it is an undeniably universal story as opposed to the particularly Russian tragedy of Leviathan. Transpose this human malady into any other western society and it will still reign just as relevant in its timelessness.

I, TONYA Review by Maia Mathieu

I, Tonya is a movie about social class that’s trying very hard not to be a movie about exactly that. “Can’t it just be about skating?” Margot Robbie, as former U.S. Olympian skater Tonya Harding, pleads at one point, seemingly echoing the opinion of the writer and director. For context: Tonya Harding is a two-time Olympic figure skater who grew up poor but emerged as a gifted skater, the first woman to land a triple axel in competition. She was barred for life from the U.S. Figure Skating Association after pleading guilty to helping to cover up the fact that her ex-husband, Jeff Gillooly (Sebastian Stan) arranged an attack on fellow Olympic skater, Nancy Kerrigan, in 1994. There’s plenty to like about I, Tonya, after all, the direction is stylish and the soundtrack is epic, but it’s spoiled by its glibness. In striving to reframe Harding’s narrative as a parable about abuse instead of acknowledging the emergent story about the limitations imposed on her by her poverty, there’s some cheesy moralising put directly in the characters’ mouths, like a stale fortune cookie. “You’re all my abusers,” Harding declares, and later,

“America likes having someone to hate.” That moralising also necessitates cramming in Harding’s life from age four until “The Incident,” overlaid with interviews set years later, nodding at multiple unreliable narrators without truly exploring the consequences. It’s too much, too fast, never slowing down to let the audience absorb the blows. Robbie and Stan are both

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There’s plenty to like about I, Tonya, after all, The direction is stylish and the soundtrack is epic, but it’s spoiled by its glibness.

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too old to play Harding and Gillooly during the events of “The Incident” and too young to play them in the later years. While miscast, they both turn in excellent performances. Allison Janney, as Harding’s abusive mother, is incredible. Paul Walter Hauser turns in a wonderfully greasy performance as Gillooly’s friend Shawn, the apparent “mastermind” of the attack on Kerrigan. He portrays the sort of sweaty, self-aggrandising loser that everyone in the audience will recognize. Tonya Harding was a hardscrabble, supposedly “redneck” girl who could skate better than anyone else. But the skating community was caught up in its sexist, classist visions of ladylike behavior so she never really got the credit she deserved, even before “The Incident”. Unlike Kerrigan, Harding was never the right girl to become America’s Sweetheart, and ended up a nineties punchline as ubiquitous and one-note as O.J. Simpson or Monica Lewinsky. I, Tonya, though it paints her as being as much a victim as Kerrigan, does nothing to redeem the woman behind the story from punchline (and punching bag) status.