The Artist and the ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!

Last Thursday I enjoyed a prized day off from selling shite over the telephone by bathing in some of London’s cultural splendour…’A Doll’s House’ in the afternoon which was simply breath-taking. Why have we never heard of this bird (Hattie Morahan) before??? SHE’S SPECTACULAR!! The production is so brilliant it made my eyes water AND I got a seat upgrade – all in all, a magnificent afternoon.

However, all of this wonder took place BEFORE a box office employee prized my precious £11.50 for the royal snooze-fest otherwise known as ‘The artist and the model’. I had many reasons for going to see this film – I thoroughly enjoyed Trueba’s last film ‘Chico and Rita’ and I like the idea of putting two of my all-time favourite battleaxes/sirens of yesteryear on the same screen. I am, of course, referring to Claudia Cardinale and Chus Lampreave who were completely misused and mis-cast in this film. I mean, Chus didn’t have any one-liners, was barely comprehensible in French and did not manage to sufficiently berate the young cast member in the film who was, for the record, shite. I was also highly distracted by Claudia’s fake, drawn-on eyebrows but was relieved to see that she has not gone down the Bardot/Deneuve/Loren plastic surgery road...

The “plot” unravels in this enthralling fashion: Chus and Claudia spot a young bird who looks like she could do with a good “douche”. They take her back to their “maison” and give her a plate of dog’s arseholes soup (or whatever was popular during the war years in the Pyrenees) During this charming repast, La Cardinale tells the young bird that she should try being a life model for her aged husband who is a sculptor. She, of course, accepts and promptly gets her kits off while he creates some banging masterpieces. Trust me, this description is far more interesting than the actual film despite the beauty of the images which, along with presence of aforementioned battleaxes, is the only reason to go and see this film. Unfortunately, these three factors cannot sustain this film. The dialogue is weak and mannered and, although it pains me to say it, the performances are just not up to scratch. I hope that these two dames are provided with vehicles worthy of their talent in their next ventures.

La grande, grande, GRANDE bellezza!!

The last few weeks have been a little slim on releases considering that, despite appearances and my current financial situation, I am not a young satchel-carrier on school holidays. That said, I thoroughly enjoyed ‘The Heat’ – the perfect combination of kick ass “betches”, Bostonians and colourful swearing.

Venice and Toronto have provided some promising fare for the forthcoming cinematic year. I will certainly be at the head of the queue for ’12 Years A Slave’ (an intern’s memoir), ‘The Double’ and ‘Sunshine On Leith’ (Life and times of an Edinburgh pusher) – I can’t wait!

Now: to the good stuff. Few directors get me as excited as Paolo Sorrentino (cinematically speaking, of course…it’s not that kind of blog) and so when I heard that he and Toni “Big Tone” Servillo had a new collaboration I almost got on a flight to Italy just to see it as I feared that the U.K. distributors would probably not get their act together until 2015 as per usual. Luckily we only had to wait four months for this cinematic feast and it was certainly worth the wait.

It tells the story of the self-confessed “King of High Society” Gep Gambardella, a journalist who has been at the heart of the decadent Roman party scene for longer that he can remember. Yet he finds himself in the midst of a crisis following the death of a girl who he had once loved. He is surrounded by every sort of beauty. Whether it be the splendour of room, the innocence of his first love or the perceived beauty of the vogue for plastic surgery which has become a badge of honour for those who have fallen victim to the superficial materialism and numbness of the Berlusconi era. One of the greatest scenes of the film is an immense party scene so alive with music and movement that it gave the spectator the impression of being part of the party. (FYI - Big Tone does a cracking Carra` impersonation…)

The camera swoops through Gambardella’s Rome in all of its splendour as if it were a bird in flight yet the reminders of the toxic mentality which has destroyed all that Italy, and therefore possibly Gep, once held dear is never far away; the mysterious and phenomenally wealthy neighbour who is found out to be one of the country’s most wanted criminals, the dank strip clubs which illuminate the kitch former glory of the Via Veneto and the hilarious observations of “cross culture” which seamlessly team Proust and reality TV as potential collaborators. As opposed to much of the, excuse the term, “shit that floats to the top” of current Italian cinema, the members of Sorrentino’s cast are fantastic. 

Many critics have displayed a tremendous lack of originality in naming the film “Fellinian” or some such label which is easily thrown around when a promising Italian film maker appears, in the same way that a French one would be likened to Truffaut or Godard. I abhor this practice generally as I feel that it is a) lazy and b) a really cheap way to strip the director/writer/actor/singer/dancer of their own talent and originality which almost certainly will take past masters into account but will not have at the heart of their project the intention to specifically create a project according to the rules of one of these other artists.

It is a film which takes time to get over. I think I will see it again at the cinema, where it was intended.