•30/06/2012 • Leave a Comment
Truly fantastic day at EIFF. Review list increasing, but massive dent made in half reviews set for posting. Holy shit, I can’t wait for Sunday when I can begin to beast these things…
Future My Love, and the non-stop assault of Mondomanila: Or, How I Fixed My Hair After A Rather Long Journey today. Still compiling my thoughts with regards to both, and waylaid by much talk of films past and present in amazing company. This festival has been bloody great.
Roundtable with Joel Murray and Bobcat Goldthwait. Saved by the last-minute sound recording upgrade by Mr Mondoghosto. Wow. I am a little bit in love with Murray and Goldthwait. Amazing, amazing guys. And the loveliest of interview subjects.
Also, rather than interrupting the genius of Peter Strickland while he appeared to be busy (which he has seemed to be every time I’ve laid eyes upon him in Edinburgh this week), myself and Katrina Conaglen decided to quickly formulate a note encapsulating our thoughts and hand it to him as we ran by on our way home. Yes, we may have called him ‘the new David Lynch’ and ‘not in a derivative way’, but at least I think the fact that we both found Berberian Sound Studio to be one of the greatest films of the festival – if not, ever – was definitely covered…
…Yes. This may appear to be a little fangirlish, but surely it can be allowed given that I’ve never been moved to behave in such a fashion previously. And before it is pointed out: I know I’m in my thirties, and passing notes is the domain of teenage schoolgirls, but come on – the man was on the bloody phone. No doubt securing major release. Or at least I hope so. Who am I to get in the way of that?
Today has also found me somewhat simultaneously excited and saddened by spending so much time thinking and writing about film. You know that feeling when you expend effort on something just to have it pissed all over and moved aside by what can only be described as, oh fuck it – who cares. Keep on doing what you do and keep on keeping on, Lynne. Sure it’s appreciated somewhere.
Roll on the next two days. I’m gonna videotech like a mad bastard and talk about film till my imaginary cock and balls drop off.
•29/06/2012 • Leave a Comment
Vivan Las Antipodas. Beautiful. Stunning. Review still to go up on the site I’m covering EIFF for, but those two words sum it up.
And then came the famous Edinburgh International Film Festival Quiz. Great fun. Even if the location did indeed turn into an overheated underground sauna, reminiscent at points of the religious zealot flashbacks in Poltergiest 2. Comedy rivalry abounded, and in a strange twist of fate, led to our over-capacity team being split. With no previous talk of names, there then ended up being two sets of “Dangerously Aroused Goblins”, both finishing on identical points. Hive mind in operation. Drive knowledge handy.
•28/06/2012 • 1 Comment
Missed a lot today due to other commitments/massive Gosling rum-based hangover/cold from being caught in pissing rain twice yesterday (delete as applicable)
I did however, make sure I made it to another screening of Peter Strickland’s Berberian Sound Studio. It really is a film of wonder. I can’t stop going on about it. So far, I’ve written two pages worth of review material and none of it makes sense. At the moment, I find it simply impossible to describe the sound work on this film, or the strange effect it has. Intoxicating is near, but not near enough. Perhaps when the other screenings are over I can focus the time and mental energy needed to delve into what is one of not only the greatest films of this year’s Edinburgh Film Festival, but one of the greatest films I’ve ever seen. A masterpiece. A thing of beauty. Some of the best sound production known to man.
If I seem a little over excited, this may have a little to do with the fact that I ditched The Fourth Dimension after party to panic like a mad bastard, attempt to catch up on reviews, and ultimately ended up clutching a bottle of wine while typing what could indeed turn out to be utter shite about The Fourth Dimension for over two hours and repeating the phrase “life is fucking beautiful” over and over again. Type. Edit. Type. Edit. Type. Edit. Smile. It’s here.
Christ. I think I’ve found my own fourth dimension.
My fourth dimension is drawing ghosts.
And sewing smiley faced bastards. And making presents for people. And buying people I love pints, wine and coffee. And watching video games being played by someone more expert than myself. Having fun. And living in the now. And hugging the hell out of a man who loves pizza, but loves me more. And not caring if I’m behind on reviews because I’m experiencing some of the best film-loving company I know this week.
You’re all fucking fabulous, and I never want this to end.
“You are so lucky to be here…” don’t I fucking know it, mate. Don’t I fucking know it.
•27/06/2012 • 2 Comments
That quote courtesy of Mr Chris Grant, after a viewing of Berberian Sound Studio which was impaired by various unwanted sound effects making their presence known.
It’s a shame that a film in which sound plays such an important part – perhaps even becoming another character in this case – the racket from the workies outside proved to be a distraction. Ah well. Who cares when the film itself was an absolute blinder.
Atmospheric, increasingly eerie, and humorous (plenty of in-jokes provided for fans of giallo/horror films), Berberian Sound Studio is a weird work of art. Almost Lynchian at times. I’ll have more to say later here, once I get over the fact that I am becoming increasingly inept at reviewing in a sea of big words and film theory. I’ve never studied this shit. Ever. Therefore I know I am probably judged more than others on my inabilities to use the right terms and phrasing. Ah, shit. Maybe if I write “The dangerously aroused goblin is chasing Theresa down the hallway” enough, no one will mind.
I find it very hard to put the thoughts that escape my brain – and the words that come out of my mouth – into coherent sentences on a page. I won’t let that stop me though. I’ll continue to publish my clearly uneducated nonsense from tomorrow. When there’s finally a break in between the screenings and the drinking. Well, if you will give us free drinks and parties…
Today’s viewing also incorporated V/H/S, an anthology horror that I found a horrible and sickening mindfuck. Although two of the segments were rather interesting, and the stories within them told well, the rest seemed to be merely an exercise in lazy-ass shaky camera work. And misogyny. Yeah. Let’s not forgot that. And close up stabbings. And eviscerations. Etc. Never felt more unclean after a film viewing in my life. That being said, if anything, V/H/S is the first film that has ever made me look away from the screen. The sense of impending doom in each segment feels uncomfortable, and the fact that everything is viewed via camcorder footage makes it seem very much like you’re viewing a snuff film. If this was the intended effect, then the film makers succeeded where I’m concerned. I wanted a shower straight after. I never want to see it again.
As mentioned in ramblings earlier, actual reviews will appear here.
Once I get over the fact that I’m shite.
•26/06/2012 • 1 Comment
Steadied by a breakfast of low quality Cineworld coffee and half a box of Cadbury’s chocolate covered animal biscuits, I was met this morning by the greatest of wondrous and bizarre entities: Val Kilmer exposing his “awesome secrets” in Harmony Korine’s segment of experimental anthology film The Fourth Dimension. WOW. Some truly fantastic insights of wonderful wisdom there…
“We are all mother ships”
“I am a drill sergeant to your heart!”
“Do not wear velvet to a job interview. VELVET KILLED ELVIS.”
“Oil is gold. And the gold is cotton candy.”
“Anyone can deliver a baby with the right tools”
“We are all babies. We need to cut the umbilical cord and find the right tools. Scrape off the afterbirth and kick it off into the fourth dimension!”
“I am talking to you like a robot, so that it goes into your mind digital.
ZERO ONE! ZERO ONE!”
“COTTON CANDY! COTTON CANDY! COTTON CANDY!”
I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to turn whatever savings I have into gold, and bury it under my bath tub. So I’ll be sitting on a fucking goldmine every time I take a bath!
Anyway. Back on track. The first two parts of The Fourth Dimension, by Korine and Aleksie Fedorchenko, were fantastic stuff. The last third? Much less so. Bobcat Goldthwait’s God Bless America was a blackly comical commentary on the daily hell inflicted by modern day popular culture, and James Marsh’s Shadow Dancer was a well-crafted slice of drama.
Highlight of the day? The Innis and Gunn beer tasting. Hilarious. For possibly the wrong reasons.
“Are you aware of Guinness? Have you ever seen a Guinness?”
Son, are you high?
Please note, these are but wine-fuelled ramblings.
Real reviews will be posted here.
•25/06/2012 • Leave a Comment
First up was Jon Wright’s Grabbers, which definitely is the better of the two Richard Coyle-starring entries on this year’s programme. Bloody fantastic, and I highly recommend all to go watch the hell out of it on release. Thoroughly enjoyable comedy horror, that manages to be not only suspenseful and provide a good number of nice wee scares, but delivers some great lines and many laughs. Great little British creature feature.
First Position, Bess Kargman’s documentary delving into the lives of a selected handful of young dancers competing in the annual Youth America Grand Prix ballet competition was a surprising joy today. Having expected a bunch of pushy parents and the possibility of divas, Kargman’s choice of kids to focus on brings some fantastic background stories, from the most normal of kids, with the most loving of parents. The hard graft put in by the entrants in the competition is astounding. Dedication, and the desire to win, drives them forward. Found myself a bit choked up near the end as the allocation of prizes and scholarship places approaches.
Perhaps having a hangover did not help my emotional state, but ye Gods, I really cared about these kids.
Free wine and a catch up with others at the Traverse, you say? Booze and recommendations? Why, of course!
Real, actual reviews are appearing here.
•23/06/2012 • Leave a Comment
Mark Cousins indulging in some quite possibly phoney press-ups in What is this Film Called Love? Careful there, fella. You might break your arms or summat. What kind of elbow angle do you call that?
Lost me at many points. Quite noticeably during the close-up of his dangling cock…
Some stunning visuals, but with narration that at times became a little grating and an overall lack of coherence throughout. I know the film was subtitled “An Adlib”, but come on, Cousins is surely taking the piss a little by simply telling the audience – in the most literal of terms – exactly what is on screen:
“There is a fly on the bridge. He walks over to have a gander at the traffic below. Then stops. Then disappears over the side.”
By the point our narrator has turned into a woman, then a stag, I’d all but given up.
Were it not for the ending statement of the film being about walking, and changing. The out of body experience brought on by walking, the time taken to really ‘see’ the world around you, the inner monologue and questioning indulged in when alone with ones thoughts.
And I am so fucking down with that, Cousins. So fucking down with that.
There it is. The coherence and linking theme I was struggling to find all along.
In other news, Exit Elena was a rather enjoyable experience. Sweet, and rather sad. A young home-care assistant being somewhat pushed into becoming part of a family, only to be pushed out of it just as quickly when surplus to requirements.
Real, actual reviews will be found here.