Wednesday, 28 February 2024

BONDIFICATING: Boosting the Bond of the early 80s

 Time changes all things, including views of Bond movies. 

In overview, the Bond franchise has a couple of periods which have been reappraised. Most recently, the Dalton era has been critically reappraised. And the Brosnan movies are currently undergoing their own revival. 


Part of this is generational, as a new cohort of Bond fans become more vocal. And part of it has to do with whoever is currently the incumbent. 


Roger Moore is one of the most defined and iconic of Bonds. Irony has been part of Bond’s makeup since Dr No, but Moore made it the character’s foundation. Double entendres are everywhere, and Moore is the first to point them out.


Whereas Connery is contained and Lazenby was (due to lack of technique) exposed, Moore is unflappable. Moore carries a sense of confidence that almost seems bigger than the movie around him. 


The qualities which made him unique have been used as praise and damnation - he is either in on the joke or a joke. His movies are either too light or show an awareness of Bond as a fantasy. 


As Dalton’s critical esteem has shifted, it has affected the treatment of Moore.


Moore’s run as Bond is more unique and varied than he is given credit for, and his latter run through the early eighties, shows that the franchise’s pivot toward darkness and a more grounded sensibility was underway before his successor was cast.


The biggest shift in this final part of Moore’s tenure is the conception of Bond himself. 

In his Seventies movies, Moore is - mostly - able to get out of trouble due to gadgets.

From For Your Eyes Only  to A View To A Kill, Moore’s Bond is basically MacGyver - he still has hardware but it has limits, and he often has to figure out new uses for The gadgets during the mission.

For Your Eyes Only is the easy example since the whole movie feels like a palate cleanser for the super spy fantasy of the late seventies. His next two films are seen as a swing back toward fantasy, but I am not so sure the distinction is that clear.



Being a natural improviser is a familiar element in Bond - see Connery electrocuting Oddjob in Goldfinger or Craig trying to keep up with the free-running Mollaka in Casino Royale.

It might fit Moore - the Bond known for wit rather than physicality - the best. 

It also works for Moore’s age. It makes sense that he would be more thinking his way out of problems rather than fighting. 

While it is a subject of criticism, Moore’s age gives this element of Bond’s character a greater sense of stakes. The movies seem to be conscious of their leading man, and rather than ignoring it, they make his age a key part of the character’s behaviour.

Octopussy feels like a balancing act, between the more grounded, contemporary tone and style of its predecessor, and the more heightened, fantastical approach of Moore’s earlier films.

This duality is epitomised by its dual villains:

General Orlov’s nuclear plot could be stripped down to a simple Cold War thriller, while his partner Kamal Khan feels like a homage to the OTT Bond villains of the (recent) past, with his massive lair, henchman (Gobinda) and one liners.

What makes the movie work is how Moore’s Bond feels at home in both arenas.

While it tends to be overlooked, in Octopussy Moore’s Bond is on the back-foot frequently and the film plays to his age in interesting ways.

It took a couple of viewings for me to realise Bond never fights Gobinda - his clashes are basically about Bond evading a direct confrontation.

And he beats him by whipping an antenna at his head.

His gadgets are limited in scope (the Mike in the Farbage egg, the jet is just fast, with no weapons).

While it has the reputation of being OTT, there is a sense of proportion to the gadgets that keeps Bond and his ingenuity the focus rather than the hardware.

Bond’s race to defuse the nuke is based on familiar obstacles (he tries to hitch a ride, and is rebuffed by some cheeky teens).

He has to steal a car and is chased by the police.

Nothing is easy and everything he does comes with its own complications. 

A View To A Kill gets a lot of flack, but even a cursory look shows that the late Moore/John Glen Bond remains a man of improvisation rather than a gadget-sprouting superman.

The pre-credit sequence gets a lot of flack for the needle drop, but if you ignore the Beach Boys cover, the sequence (designed and shot by Willy Bogner) is a terrific example of this characterisation.

Bond is constantly peril, from losing his skies to the sled being blown up.

Throughout the sequence, he is constantly having to get himself out of trouble - and has to improvise new solutions when he finds himself in new danger (like inventing snowboarding).

Aside from the iceberg ship, there are no gadgets to get Bond out of trouble - it is all based on Bond improvising using whatever props he has around him (another great example of this approach is when Bond has to use air from a car tyre to breathe).

While he is overshadowed by his successors, Moore’s final run as Bond should not be seen as a series low point, but a forerunner for the style of Bond we would get with his successors.


If you are new to this blog, I also co-host a podcast on James Bond, The James Bond Cocktail Hour

You can subscribe on iTunes, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Check out the episode at the link below:










The Harry Palmer Trilogy












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BITE-SIZED: Dracula (John Badham, 1979)

After a ship is wrecked off the coast, its mysterious passenger (Frank Langella) is invited into the home of local asylum doctor, Seward (Donald Pleasance).


It turns out this stranger is Count Dracula, Seward’s new neighbour from Transylvania.


While the Count charms the doctor and his daughter Lucy (Kate Nelligan), misfortune begins to fall on the small coastal community - and it all seems to lead back to its new member…



 
The second adaptation of the play which served as Bela Lugosi’s launch to stardom, and the incarnation of the Count as a suave member of the upper classes.

This movie is like a painting. 


There are many beautiful shots, production design and atmosphere, but the movie as a whole is a little bloodless. The version I saw was the desaturated version released after the theatrical release.


There is more of a romantic element to the central relationship between Dracula and Lucy (the filmmakers decided to swap the names of the female leads).


The production benefits from contemporary advances - the opening sequence on the ship is frenetic, and carries a real sense of tension. Dracula’s lizard crawl down the wall of Dr Seward’s home is fantastic, framed in an extended wide shot with fog billowing behind Langella as he glides down toward his prey.


While handsomely mounted, the film never finds a way to define itself. 


And it is neither that scary nor romantic.


The film’s willingness to take narrative liberties with the familiar story is interesting at first, but they do not reveal anything or bring anything new to the story.


Related


The Last Voyage of the Demeter


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BITE-SIZED: Gloomy Sunday (Rolf Schübel, 1999)

 Set in Prague during World War 2, the film concerns a love triangle between a worldly hotelier (Joachim Król), a pianist (Stefano Dionisi) and a young woman (Erika Marozsan).


My grandad has been talking about this movie for 20 years - he is not a movie fan and he hates it whenever I start rambling, so this is a unique occurrence.


He saw it at my local arthouse and would often mention how it was still running at a cinema in Christchurch. The news site Stuff wrote an article about that particular phenomenon.


I finally found a DVD copy of the movie online, and ordered it for him for Christmas a couple of years ago. While he was happy to finally have it, he was more excited to have his family watch it.


The first half of the movie feels like classic melodrama - not great but familiar. 


We start in the present before flashing back to the main action, watching the lovers meet and turn into a triangle.


It is well-acted and benefits from some good production design.


It is watchable, but still feels a tad too familiar.


But that familiarity is not a weakness. It is a sign of the film's sturdy construction.


And once the net starts to tighten and characters show their true colours, the movie becomes very compelling. The film's sense of melancholy gains new weight.


Not a classic, but one can see why something so functional has managed to maintain an audience.


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Saturday, 17 February 2024

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Steven Spielberg, 1977)

After witnessing UFOs, Roy Neary (Richard Dreyfuss) finds himself plagued by visions of a mysterious object, which he is compelled to draw and sculpt.


When fellow UFO spectator Jillian’s (Melinda Dillon) son Barry (Cary Guffey) is abducted by the mysterious visitors, the pair head to Devil’s Tower, a natural outcrop that resembles the image they keep imagining...


It is hard not to compare Close Encounters of the Third Kind to the blockbusters of today. And I gave up trying to avoid the comparisons.


While it is partially the result of natural escalation, today’s blockbusters are so much more action-focused. 


Despite its premise and spectacle, Close Encounters is not an action film. In some ways, it is the opposite.


Despite some hardware, there is no real threat of military escalation - from either the humans or the aliens.


Unlike the protagonists of later blockbusters, the film is based around ordinary people. There are experts and specialists at the margins, but the focus is on Roy (Richard Dreyfuss) and Jillian (Melinda Dillon).


And who can see such a large-scale movie now coming down to an exchange of musical notes?


This movie is as distinct from the popular offerings of today as it probably felt compared to the disaster, war and post-Jaws monster movies of its release.


The film opens with Lacombe (François Truffaut) and his team discovering planes from WW2 in the Sonora Desert. It sets out a mystery that is ultimately based on a conflict between adult anxiety and child-like innocence.


The scenes of Jillian’s son Barry greeting the unseen UFOs are played for suspense, with the aliens kept offscreen, and the sense of danger increased by the choice to position the camera at Barry’s eye-level.


Now these scenes are iconic for exemplifying their creator’s childlike sense of wonder.


For audiences at the time, coming on the heels of Jaws, the movie’s playful sense of suspense must have played differently.


That sense of fear is maintained in the adult reactions to the encounters. But so is the child’s embrace of the unknown, and the uncanny - see the scene where Ray gathers materials for his Devil’s Tower model. In the background, his son is enthusiastic, helping his dad carrying bricks back inside the house.


That juxtaposition also provides the film with a rich vein of irony that adds to the film’s fundamentally playful take on the story - the headlights rising over Roy after he distractedly waves the ‘vehicle’ past - the scientists try to wheel the globe of the world around corridors; Roy trying to reach his wife on the phone while the massive model of Devil’s Tower looms behind him (just as expertly timed is the secondary gag of the news report in extreme right of frame, repeatedly showing the real Devil’s Tower (but only when Roy’s back is turned). 


While the central story is small, Spielberg’s delight in crowds and the bric-a-brac of people energises the movie - the crowd who shows up at the initial encounter site look like they have come for a party, with signs, food and games.


Scenes like this play to the film’s less paranoid view of humanity. In Close Encounters,  people do not (just) come with guns.  


I had never seen the film before, and I was surprised at the way the film has Ray’s family drive away, and there are no cutaways or reunion when his bizarre behaviour is validated.


I am not familiar with Spielberg’s work. I caught a couple of the big titles as a kid, and I have probably seen the lionshare of his recent movies. But seeing Close Encounters of the Third Kind for the first time hammers home how unique his voice is.


The subtle way he juggles tones and his deceptively simple control of framing and blocking - it is hard to think of a conventional narrative filmmaker with such an understanding of cinematic tools as him. 


He has gotten a little more contemplative and cynical in outlook in recent decades (I am very interested in re-watching Munich), which makes this period of his work a little more special.


Related





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Thursday, 8 February 2024

LA Confidential (Curtis Hanson, 1997)

Los Angeles, 1953. Crime kingpin Mickey Cohen is in prison and the corruption-plagued LAPD are attempting a public relations makeover.

When a group of patrons are massacred at the Nite Owl café, officers Bud White (Russell Crowe) and Ed Exley (Guy Pearce) find their investigations running to the heart of LA's underworld... and the LAPD itself.



I have trouble writing about great movies. If one catches my imagination, then I can lock in and unpack it.

But most of the time, I do not feel any real desire or ability to pull apart a movie’s magic.

Sometimes that is all it is - magic. The alchemy of specific creative workers at a specific point in time.

I think that is why so many of my reviews focus on films where that magic does not happen.

You can learn a lot about cinematic storytelling, particularly in the linear, narrative-based genre/Hollywood fare I gravitate towards, by watching the movies which fail to achieve their basic aims.

A lot of films may not have that unifying magic, but most have some nuggets of gold, something special that - if it does not make it worth watching, at least provides the viewer with something to take away, even if that is an unconscious lesson in the power of the medium to provoke reactions.

While reducing movies to ‘good’ and ‘bad’ is detrimental for thinking critically about the medium, it can be instructive.

After watching LA Confidential I felt elated, but completely barren:

What is there to write about an acknowledged classic which has been covered for decades?

After watching its follow-up, The Black Dahlia, I was inspired.

I will not spend this review comparing the two films. I just raise it as context - watching them so close together really gave me perspective on LA Confidential.

What sticks out most about the film is its sense of confidence and control. The way the film maintains a grip on the sprawling narrative. The film is not particularly flashy in terms of style, but it never 

Pearce and Crowe are so well-cast. 

Crowe is all bottled rage, plowing through the movie like a freight train.

Pearce is more ambiguous, a cool intelligence always evaluating. 

Pearce’s body language is fascinating. He is always ramrod, never at ease. He is so tightly coiled, betraying the character’s deep-set insecurity. 

The way the movie manages to make them compelling without sugarcoating them is one of the movie’s main strengths.

Despite its setting, LA Confidential does feel plugged into the underlying tensions of the titular city. Yes, there is Hollywood glamour, but there is also corruption and systemic racial abuse. Released five years after the LA riots, the film feels more evocative of its time - and sadly its portrayal of the police as an institution built on racism remains evergreen.

While it is dark, the movie is remarkably deft in tone - it gives weight to the stakes but manages to still feel fun. 

Fundamentally LA Confidential is pulp - well-crafted and well-acted, but still pulp. And it never forgets that, while managing to be nuanced and considered in its  presentation of its darker elements.

A great movie.


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