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Watching two films back to back at the Carbuncle - the first for some time - throws up strange bedfellows: a Hungarian historical movie about water polo written by Joe Eszterhas and a contemporary improvised comedy of manners.
XLI: Krisztina Goda, Szabadság, szerelem (2006) (Children of Glory)
Yes, water polo, and it would have been easy to talk myself out of this after the crise of today and the late night, but I didn't know it was Eszterhas - he of the twisty turny plots with dubious sexual politics (Jagged Edge, Fatal Attraction and Basic Instinct, last seen heading dumpsterwards with the self-fulfilling Alan Smithee Movie). But he is Hungarian - although I don't know his stance on water polo.
It's the middle of 1956, and the Hungarian water polo team is being trounced by the Russian team in Moscow, largely thanks to corrupt referees. They are determined to win the next round - at the Melbourne Olympics (I had a sense of Nino Culotta hovering just out of shot, and Ada Gardner filming On the Beach). But this isn't just a sport movie - as we face the current round of let's-keep-politics-out-of-the-Olympics nonsense: it is war by other means. It is, after all, 1956.
There are too many Russians in the country and the secret police are getting too nasty, and the people are ready to rise for a coup - wishing Imre Nagy (János Schwimmer) to become prime minister. Russian-hating, hot headed water polo playing Karcsi Szabó (Iván Fenyö) is torn between getting on with the game and the object of his desire - the revolutionary Viki Falk (Kata Dobó). He chooses the machine gun. At first the revolt seems to have gone the way the people want - Nagy takes over - but this is lulling them into a false sense of security as the secret police and the Russian army put down revolutionaries in the most bloody way. The revolutionaries hope for American aid but - well Senuez is going on and the withdrawal of Soviet tanks is a blind. Karcsi heads off to the Olympics as the tanks return, leaving Viki behind.
The upshot is a matter of history, although I don't known the period well enough to know how fast they've played with facts. Hungary was to be a Soviet satellite for many years - any water polo victory could but be Pyrrhic. Unusually slides don't tell us the next fifty years, or even reveal the ultimate fate of the surviving characters - instead there is a translation of a poem about freedom.
The film is suitably harrowing, and whilst Fenyö actually has little to do but look attractive, concerned and confused, Dobó has a much darker journey to undergo, as she tries to stay ahead of the secret police. It is striking how many women seem to be involved in the uprising - I suspect they are usually depicted as being more of a male affair.
Not a film that offers consolation, it's highly recommended.
XLII: Mike Leigh, Happy-Go-Lucky (2008)
I have a feeling I've not seen a Mike Leigh film on a big screen since Naked (and before that High Hopes), and I remember the accusations then of patronisation of the working classes and a streak of misogyny. Leigh's women are central to his films (in most cases), and have been created by the particular actor - which perhaps offloads the accusation onto her. Often they are grotesques - which might (or might not) be an improvement on angel of the house. I defended Leigh back then - although I'd read less about feminism then, of course - but have only seen subsequent films on tv (with major gaps).
Poppy (Sally Hawkins) is the perennially upbeat protagonist of this rather shapeless film - cycling through the opening credits to a market and bookshop in SE1 where she encounters the taciturn owner/keeper (Elliot Cowan) and has her bike stolen. This is the first of many journeys she makes - later ones involving driving, walking or rowing - and of course she also discusses the migration of birds. Emotionally unable to replace her bike, she starts driving lessons, with the misanthropic Scott (Eddie Marsan). These lessons are the heart of the film - his slow emergence as a monster, ironically brought out by Poppy in psychotherapy mode - or less charitably (literally) driven there by Poppy.
Scott is a driving instructor, Poppy is a teacher, and most of her friends are teachers too - plus there is a flamenco instructor - so all of the characters are learning and teaching, and trying to help others, usually in reaction to male violence (or threatening violence to men).
The final thread seems to be birds - Poppy and housemate Zoe (Alexis Zegerman) make bird masks, then get the kids to make them, and Poppy teaches about migration. Being able to fly is something to aspire to - and I'm sure it is no accidents how many birds fly into shot in the final pullback.
Poppy does seem to be insanely, frustratingly, happy (and indeed go-lucky), without a real sense of this being compensation for an inner despair - she is basically happy with her lot. She is also clearly smarter than she lets on, and certainly smarter than she is perceived; despite the unsuitable shoes she is no bimbo. I do suspect the accusation of patronisation could be leveled - characters do learn from her, but her pull-yourself-together, worse-things-happen-at-sea aura would wear rather thin.
Not laugh out loud funny, and a tad too long at pushing two hours - with too many diversions to curious cameos. But I'm glad I saw it, even if it suddenly struck me that she is close kin to Donna Noble. And I suspect it would drive people with too strong a knowledge of London geography mad.
Totals: 42 [Cinema: 16; DVD: 24; TV: 2]
XLI: Krisztina Goda, Szabadság, szerelem (2006) (Children of Glory)
Yes, water polo, and it would have been easy to talk myself out of this after the crise of today and the late night, but I didn't know it was Eszterhas - he of the twisty turny plots with dubious sexual politics (Jagged Edge, Fatal Attraction and Basic Instinct, last seen heading dumpsterwards with the self-fulfilling Alan Smithee Movie). But he is Hungarian - although I don't know his stance on water polo.
It's the middle of 1956, and the Hungarian water polo team is being trounced by the Russian team in Moscow, largely thanks to corrupt referees. They are determined to win the next round - at the Melbourne Olympics (I had a sense of Nino Culotta hovering just out of shot, and Ada Gardner filming On the Beach). But this isn't just a sport movie - as we face the current round of let's-keep-politics-out-of-the-Olympics nonsense: it is war by other means. It is, after all, 1956.
There are too many Russians in the country and the secret police are getting too nasty, and the people are ready to rise for a coup - wishing Imre Nagy (János Schwimmer) to become prime minister. Russian-hating, hot headed water polo playing Karcsi Szabó (Iván Fenyö) is torn between getting on with the game and the object of his desire - the revolutionary Viki Falk (Kata Dobó). He chooses the machine gun. At first the revolt seems to have gone the way the people want - Nagy takes over - but this is lulling them into a false sense of security as the secret police and the Russian army put down revolutionaries in the most bloody way. The revolutionaries hope for American aid but - well Senuez is going on and the withdrawal of Soviet tanks is a blind. Karcsi heads off to the Olympics as the tanks return, leaving Viki behind.
The upshot is a matter of history, although I don't known the period well enough to know how fast they've played with facts. Hungary was to be a Soviet satellite for many years - any water polo victory could but be Pyrrhic. Unusually slides don't tell us the next fifty years, or even reveal the ultimate fate of the surviving characters - instead there is a translation of a poem about freedom.
The film is suitably harrowing, and whilst Fenyö actually has little to do but look attractive, concerned and confused, Dobó has a much darker journey to undergo, as she tries to stay ahead of the secret police. It is striking how many women seem to be involved in the uprising - I suspect they are usually depicted as being more of a male affair.
Not a film that offers consolation, it's highly recommended.
XLII: Mike Leigh, Happy-Go-Lucky (2008)
I have a feeling I've not seen a Mike Leigh film on a big screen since Naked (and before that High Hopes), and I remember the accusations then of patronisation of the working classes and a streak of misogyny. Leigh's women are central to his films (in most cases), and have been created by the particular actor - which perhaps offloads the accusation onto her. Often they are grotesques - which might (or might not) be an improvement on angel of the house. I defended Leigh back then - although I'd read less about feminism then, of course - but have only seen subsequent films on tv (with major gaps).
Poppy (Sally Hawkins) is the perennially upbeat protagonist of this rather shapeless film - cycling through the opening credits to a market and bookshop in SE1 where she encounters the taciturn owner/keeper (Elliot Cowan) and has her bike stolen. This is the first of many journeys she makes - later ones involving driving, walking or rowing - and of course she also discusses the migration of birds. Emotionally unable to replace her bike, she starts driving lessons, with the misanthropic Scott (Eddie Marsan). These lessons are the heart of the film - his slow emergence as a monster, ironically brought out by Poppy in psychotherapy mode - or less charitably (literally) driven there by Poppy.
Scott is a driving instructor, Poppy is a teacher, and most of her friends are teachers too - plus there is a flamenco instructor - so all of the characters are learning and teaching, and trying to help others, usually in reaction to male violence (or threatening violence to men).
The final thread seems to be birds - Poppy and housemate Zoe (Alexis Zegerman) make bird masks, then get the kids to make them, and Poppy teaches about migration. Being able to fly is something to aspire to - and I'm sure it is no accidents how many birds fly into shot in the final pullback.
Poppy does seem to be insanely, frustratingly, happy (and indeed go-lucky), without a real sense of this being compensation for an inner despair - she is basically happy with her lot. She is also clearly smarter than she lets on, and certainly smarter than she is perceived; despite the unsuitable shoes she is no bimbo. I do suspect the accusation of patronisation could be leveled - characters do learn from her, but her pull-yourself-together, worse-things-happen-at-sea aura would wear rather thin.
Not laugh out loud funny, and a tad too long at pushing two hours - with too many diversions to curious cameos. But I'm glad I saw it, even if it suddenly struck me that she is close kin to Donna Noble. And I suspect it would drive people with too strong a knowledge of London geography mad.
Totals: 42 [Cinema: 16; DVD: 24; TV: 2]
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From:
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Hey, I haven't gotten around to reading the Julia Phillips You Won't Eat Lunch in this Town Again and I was lent it in 1990.
Jagged Edge wasn't too bad (although I've not seen it since ... ?) and he clearly struck a nerve with Fatal Attraction. Maybe not the right one. I'll keep an eye out.
From:
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though showgirls remains the great film of the 90s - that tears apart the american dream of the girl making it big, that shines light into the heart of darkness that is las vegas and shows that even the depiction of the misery does not survive unscathed