Talking Movies

April 30, 2024

That They May Face the Rising Sun

John McGahern’s final novel has received a luminous cinematic treatment writes Maynooth University’s Graham Price.

Following a rapturous reception in various European and Irish Film Festivals, the long-awaited cinematic version of John McGahern’s final novel, That They May Face the Rising Sun, has finally been given a general theatrical release and to say that it was worth the wait is an understatement. Director Pat Collins’ understated and lyrical style does real justice to McGahern’s poetic prose style and the result is that a great film has been made out of a great book. The achievement is made even greater when one considers that That They May Face the Rising Sun was long considered the least filmable of McGahern’s texts.

The plot centres on Joe (Barry Ward) and Kate Ruttledge (Anna Bederke), a couple who have moved to rural Roscommon from England where Kate worked in an art gallery. The film follows them during a year in their seemingly ordinary lives. They farm, Joe writes, Kate paints, and an assortment of memorably colourful neighbours habitually drop by to gossip and hear the news. Although this may seem (as the film itself acknowledges) like a scenario lacking in a conventionally compelling plot, the audience will be held spellbound by the exquisitely drawn, self-contained scenes during which the camera revels in the nuances of everyday human behaviour and interaction.

One significant departure that the movie has made from the novel is the character Joe has been made into a writer and this allows the film to briefly and unobtrusively insert some of the most memorable lines from the book into the script. This reviewer was particularly pleased at the inclusion of this passage from the novel in the film: ‘Happiness could not be sought or worried into being, or even fully grasped; it should be allowed its own slow pace so that it passes unnoticed, if it ever comes at all’. This Proustian observation encapsulates a central theme contained within McGahern’s literary oeuvre and is of a piece with the movie’s elegiac and nostalgic tone: Life experience needs the counter-signature of memory and (perhaps) imagination for its true meaning and significance to emerge.

Another reason for making Joe a writer is obviously so there can be a biographical connection with John McGahern. This connection is deepened by giving Kate a Scandinavian accent which links her with the real life Annikki Laaksi, McGahern’s first wife. This is different from the novel in which Kate was given an American background which made her seem similar to Madeline McGahern, his second wife. When Joe is asked what his new book is about, he basically says it is not really about anything and that it could not really be described as a novel. This assertion is basically the film providing meta-commentary on both itself and the source text. The movie adds one plot element to the story that was not in the book to add a certain degree of dramatic tension: This concerns the question of whether Kate will leave her home by the lake and go back to England to look after her art gallery now that her former business partner is leaving its stewardship.

That They May Face the Rising Sun contains a great ensemble cast of experienced Irish character actors. Significantly, the character of Jamesie (Philip Dolan), who played a very prominent role in the book, is given a more equal status alongside the other colourful characters who inhabit the world of the Ruttledges by the lake. Significantly, when Joe is thinking about ‘those two people who mean so much to me’ during a Christmas dinner scene in the film, he is referring to his uncle The Shah and friend Bill Evans rather than to Jamesie and his wife Mary as was the case in the book. Jamesie is also made a less comedic figure than he had been in McGahern’s text. This is possibly because the director wished to avoid any accusations of Stage Irishry being present in the film. Although the movie is clearly set in Ireland because of the references to a few Irish placenames, the dark shadow of her traumatic past is not present as it was in the novel. The film avoids any mention of clerical abuse and IRA violence and focuses instead on the more universal human themes for which McGahern’s work is so renowned. It is not certain when exactly the movie is set but the reference to the impending advent of telecommunications in rural Ireland gives the impression that it is the 1980s.

Two actors in this film who deserve to be singled out for special praise are Sean McGinley, who plays Jamesie’s London exile brother Johnny, and Lalor Roddy as the curmudgeonly but haunted neighbour, Patrick Ryan. Both McGinley and Ryan expertly convey a deep well of loss and disappointment beneath a braggadocio surface. One of the saddest moments in the movie occurs when Ruttledge gets up from having a drink with Johnny to go and buy some supplies in the local shop and Johnny grabs him by the arm and says: ‘You wouldn’t leave me? You wouldn’t forget me?’. From those words and the fragile tone in which they were uttered, one clearly gets the sense that this is a man from whom all confidence and sense of security has been kicked out by years of rejection and disappointment. Significantly, the most unlikable and villainous character from the novel, John Quinn, has been left out entirely from the film. The reason for this is probably that Pat Collins did not want any of the characters in the cinematic version of That They They May Face the Rising Sun to be judged as villains. The Intention was to present nuanced and complicated characters who could not in any way be viewed as stock or cardboard cut out figures.

The use of music in this film is highly effective, particularly in one moment near the end that involves the laying out of a body. Irene and Linda Buckleys’ original score permeate scenes and shots involving both natural and man-made environments and help to create a pantheistic sense of a divinity invisibly existing because of the serene flow of worldly existence. The ultimate impression one takes away from this cinematic experience is that of having watched the work of a supremely humane artist of the medium of cinema. The movie’s central message about the importance of civility, understanding, and basically good manners when dealing with others is verbalised near the story’s beginning by the calm but quietly forceful Joe Ruttledge. As a piece of cinema, it will not be to the taste of those who judge films primarily on their ability to create dramatic, traditional plots, but will be embraced by those who like their movies more languid and meditative. That They May Face the Rising Sun is certainly a prime example of the latter cinematic style.

5/5

The Godfather Part II: 50

Filed under: Talking Movies — Fergal Casey @ 9:00 pm

It is now 50 years since the maxim “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer” was loosed upon us.

(Paramount/Getty Images)

The Godfather Part II is an imposing film. Like a tall slab of black marble standing high in the cinema of the mid-1970s and casting a giant shadow. Almost two separate films, the rise to power of Vito Corleone, and the moral fall of Michael Corleone, it runs for three hours and twenty minutes at a pace as measured as Michael plotting revenge. For despite being a blood-soaked tale of vendettas and power plays it is a remarkably cold film. A chilliness exemplified by Michael’s softly delivered response to the insults, threats and extortions of the Nevada Senator Geary – “My offer is this. Nothing”. Michael has already conceived how to and decided to destroy the Senator, he just doesn’t show any emotion about it.

Speed: 30

We are a mere five months away to the day of the release of Speed in America in 1994. Whoa.

Speed is perhaps one of the finest directorial debuts, and from a director who never recaptured that magic: Jan de Bont. He had of course been the cinematographer on Die Hard. And there is a certain kinship between the two movies: the cop who gets drawn into an unexpected hostage scenario in Los Angeles, a duel of wits with a terrorist who’s out for a big payday, a chunk of quotable dialogue, an exciting high concept premise, an abundance of practical effects and stunt thrills, and, above all, a cascade of consequences. Just as is the case with Die Hard, any decision made has a knock-on effect. So in saving himself when his trolley gets knocked out of commission under the speeding bus Keanu Reeves stabs the gas tank, creating a ticking clock from that moment on which has to be dealt with in real time by the characters.

And opposite Keanu Reeves’ heroic Jack Traven is a perfectly pitched villainous performance by Dennis Hopper: “It seemed a little hammy to me, to build a bomb out of my precious retirement gift. But you know, I figured a sign that said ‘Howard Payne’ would be pushing it.” There are certainly elements of this performance in his Red Rock West turn, but they are refined here into a fine distillation of menace, self-pity, sadism, and comic timing.

Any Other Business: Part LXXXVII

As the title suggests, so forth.

Artwork by AI

We’re now four months into 2024, and this blog’s grand experiment with AI art. It has already fooled one regular theatre cohort of the blog into thinking an AI image was an official stylised poster. Success! But on a serious note it has been nice to have bespoke imagery about the place. Nobody else will get the exact same results from the AI behind Night Cafe even if they used the exact same prompts. And nobody else will use the exact same prompts derived from idiosyncratic interests. It gives a vague New Yorker or Wall Street Journal feel to a mere blog to have charcoal sketches hovering over pieces. And it has been interesting watching the development of the technology. Originally just goofing around it with it for such important artistic endeavours as Keanu Reeves v Cocaine Bear, taking it seriously allows for checking in on the progression of the AI’s skills. This image was a Cezanne pastiche last year.

It was a reasonable attempt for a supercomputer. The colours were in the right places. The subject was as requested. And the style was primitively correct. To paraphrase from Brideshead Revisited, it was as if an Aztec had attempted a Cezanne painting. And now the exact same prompt produces the image beneath. Which is clearly a Cezanne pastiche of a much higher order. Yes, asking it to do pictures that could be considered characteristic subjects in the style of the various painters I request (Hodler, Van Gogh, Hopper, Klimt, Van Gogh, Lichtenstein, Cezanne, Matisse, Picasso, Schiele, Botticelli, Hockney, Michaelangelo, Whistler, Warhol) is helping to train it, which means effectively working for free for a corporation.

But in the age of surveillance capitalism a good chunk of all our lives seems to be spent doing that anyway. At least this way some beauty gets brought into the world, in the most curious way imaginable. ChatGPT! What is beauty? (Don’t you dare quote or reference Keats in your reply)

And like that, it’s gone

I wondered why it was so late opening on a Sunday the other week, then thought I might have got muddled about its hours. But when I saw another branch clearly closed for business I got suspicious. And yes, it really has abruptly closed. The entirety of Mao and Dante’s Pizza has been shuttered. It makes very little sense that a chain which was doing well enough to have a tie-in with Leinster rugby, and didn’t seem to be lacking in customers, couldn’t find someone to take over the lease. But that’s how it is. It will leave quite a hole in the takeaway options, and explode some rituals. No more will Bank Holidays be marked with the treat of a Nasi Goreng in the specially elongated box to accommodate the chicken skewer underneath the fried egg, with a pack of prawn crackers to round out the dish. No more will the Inaugural speech of the latest POTUS be listened to while wolfing down Ho Chi’s chicken wings, chips, and egg fried rice. No more will I idly pop in while returning home from the NCH to get an egg fried rice just before they close. And there will be no more idle flitting between Mongolian beef and Singapore noodles as options for an impulsive treat. I remember the oddity of the first Mao restaurant appearing, complete with its massive Warhol portrait of the Chairman, right across from the College of Music in Chatham Row. And after being followed, as it felt, around all my haunts for decades, suddenly it’s gone. Goodbye Mao, thanks for the food and the memories.

What Does Elon Musk Do All Day?

Work? Where? This is a deadly serious question. The other week I saw Andrew Ross Sorkin getting annoyed two days in a row on CNBC when his guests seemed to question whether Elon Musk should be paid 56 billion dollars by Tesla. The man is listed as CEO of Tesla, CEO of SpaceX, and CTO of Twitter; yet he has criticised people working from home for not really working because they are less productive than in the office. In his case, which office? Elon Musk is, as so many thin-skinned billionaires are, a raging hypocrite. But how on earth can he expect a 56 billion dollar package from Tesla to keep him interested in doing his job? As they have said is the purpose of such renumeration. Fire him. That, not paying them 56 billion dollars is the usual response to a worker checking out of their job. 56. Billion. Dollars. That amount of money is obscene.

Impossibly Versatile Melodies

Lalo Schifrin not only composed one of the great melodies for the Mission: Impossible theme music, he also contributed ‘The Plot’, which may be one of the most useful secondary themes ever composed for such a purpose. ‘The Plot’ can be quite heroic, indeed that is how Lorne Balfe used it for a Mission: Accomplished sequence in Mission: Impossible – Fallout, but it is not as splashy and stuck in one mode as say John Barry’s glorious secondary Bond theme. It is closer to Barry’s ‘March in Space’ for the capsule sequences in You Only Live Twice; a piece of music designed for suspense that is capable of almost infinite elongation. Indeed it is more versatile than Barry’s because it is capable, like Ravel’s ‘Bolero’, of going thru any change in instrumentation you care to add to its vitals of a double bass and a snare drum. In the hands of Schifrin himself in the season three premiere ‘The Plot’ starts to resemble a Bartok string quartet. But in the hands of Walter Scharf in ‘The Bank’, the fourth episode of season two, it becomes an extreme exercise in jazz minimalism, with an extended casing of the premises and identity masquerade by the team accompanied by a double bass plumbing the very depths of its register. This is its great strength, a simple melody that can, by variation of instrumentation and style of arrangement, serve almost any purpose, and accompany any length of silent intrigue and technical spycraft.

Miscellaneous Movie Musings: Part LI

As the title suggests, so forth.

I see the future, Jimmy, next year will also be in vibrant colour!

1955: The Year We Didn’t Have Colour

Sigh. Steve Zaillian has in some interviews stated he chose to film his miniseries Ripley in black and white for Netflix because Patricia Highsmith would have been thinking of any film adaptation of The Talented Mr Ripley as being in black and white. But then in the opening scene we see a title card setting the series in 1961. A year after the gloriously sun drenched and full colour French adaptation of The Talented Mr Ripley called Plein Soleil. To some degree I feel that Zaillian is exploiting people’s ignorance of the past to make himself sound very smart and creative. As soon as he made this assertion about Highsmith’s monochrome imaginings, I thought – nonsense. But the FergalDB was on the fritz that day so it could only produce Hitchcock’s 1955 films To Catch a Thief and The Trouble with Harry as the most obvious arguments that he was wrong. When I looked up the most popular films of 1955 I saw this: Lady and the Tramp, Mister Roberts, The Sea Chase, The Tall Men, Galapagos, Love is a Many-Splendoured Thing, To Catch a Thief, Love Me or Leave Me, The Trouble with Harry, I’ll Cry Tomorrow. Only Number 10 at the box office, I’ll Cry Tomorrow, is in black and white. The most popular films of the year were all in vibrant colour. So, Highsmith was thinking in black and white when she was creating Tom Ripley was she? Really, Steve Zaillian?

Hulk Sad! Film Bad!

ITV 4 recently showed Hulk in prime time. After 18 years I thought I’d give it another go to see if I had been too harsh on it. Nope. Danny Elfman’s score is kind of interesting, enough to make me seek out a suite of it on YouTube, and a world removed from the bland music of the MCU. But the film is as borderline unwatchable as I remembered. It strikes me as odd how, just like Heaven’s Gate, it’s a disaster that has some weird editing. It’s like this is a defence mechanism inserted by filmmakers looking at a true turkey – people just weren’t ready for our exciting new style. Nothing to do with the quality of the film. (And amazingly nobody else ever takes up the exciting new editing style for a good movie.) Ang Lee seemed to have a fundamental disconnect with audience expectations. He has Stan Lee and Lou Ferrigno cameo early on in the movie, but this is not going to be a feature inspired by the 1970s Bill Bixby TV version of the character – The Fugitive, drifting from town to town, with added Hulk-outs. Instead this is a very very very serious psychodrama about scientists wounded so badly as children by the behaviour of their parents that it impedes their ability to form relationships as adults – with added Hulk-outs. As bad as the pained sub-Freudian misery is it is only part of the problem.

“Hey, what happened to Benny? Is he not working the night shift anymore?”

“Benny’s dead. I’m the new guy”

“Oh. Good to meet you”

“Same.”

Scientician Jennifer Connelly to fake janitor Nick Nolte. The deadest intonation imaginable on both sides. Writing, in part by Ang Lee’s producing partner James Shamus who worked on crafting the screenplay for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Directing, by Ang Lee, late of the carefully shaded nuance Sense and Sensibility. Acting, by stars of Requiem for a Dream and Lorenzo’s Oil. How? How is it possible that all concerned can have fashioned that interaction, shot it, seen it in rushes, looked at in post-production, and said, Yeah, that’s fine. It’s the definition of does not sound human. Which, symbolised by a green circle, was the dreaded criticism of my sometime script editor and co-writer The Engineer when he would work offer feedback on a draft. Perhaps Ang Lee and James Shamus got confused and thought green circles everywhere on their screenplay was a sign of affirmation that they had nailed the character of the Big Green Guy.

April 24, 2024

Any Other Business: Part LXXXVI

As the title suggests, so forth.

Impossible Linguistic Achievements

It seems like I will always get hung up on some idiotic detail when I watch the 1960s Mission: Impossible series. When Channel 4 re-ran it on Sundays in the 1990s I could not stop from alternating between laughing and rolling my eyes at how every episode began with Mr Phelps flicking thru a thick folder of potential agents to assemble his team, but somehow always choosing the same four people most every week. I’ve made peace with that now. But instead, watching episode after episode of behind the Iron Curtain derring-do, as well as adventures in French colonies and South American banana republics, now I’ve started asking – what language is everyone meant to be speaking? They can’t all be speaking English. But sans the celebrated cut on the word ‘Apocalypse’ in The Hunt for Red October it’s hard to know what convention is meant to be in play here. Or are the entire team actually fluent in French, Spanish, Russian, German and a handful of Slavic tongues? And with no trace of a tell-tale Yankee accent. In which case no wonder Mr Phelps always went for the walking Berlitz books among his staff most every week.

It’s called DEADPAN

I’d heard mention of this sketch only recently, but was impelled to hunt it down after watching Ryan Gosling’s episode of Saturday Night Live. Which was something of a disaster as professionalism went. The Beavis and Butthead accidentally in real life sketch in particular I was annoyed by; because it felt like this could have been much funnier if everyone had actually done their job, instead of which Heidi Gardner went to pieces when she should have been deadpan, undermining her character, the premise, and the execution. Looking at the ‘President Reagan: Mastermind’ sketch, it becomes obvious it is funny because it snaps back and forth between the two modes of Reagan. This would not work at all if anyone laughed at any point. Now look at your average week of SNL sketches. The endlessly overpraised Bowen Yang is constantly corpsing, and he is not the only offender. And most of the cast seem so hopelessly dependent on Wally, the cue card guy known and loved from Late Night with Seth Meyers, that they cannot get their eyes to go in anything approaching the right direction from an acting standpoint most of the time.

April 19, 2024

Gresham’s Law and 1930s cinema

Gresham’s Law Strikes Again! That sounds not unlike the title of a pulpy 1930s B-movie. Which is somehow entirely appropriate.

I’m kind of a big deal…

I can’t be the only one who with monotonous regularity sees Ghostbusters pop up on the TV schedule, goes ‘Oh cool!’, and then when clicking to set a reminder discovers it is not the beloved 1984 comedy but instead the 2016 movie that has been universally memory-holed without most of us even having to suffer thru the indignity of watching it first. In the distant past I always wondered why on earth TV channels, with the gamut of cinema to choose from, insisted on showing bad new films instead of good old films. The Film Editor had to sit me down and explain the concept of bundling. A studio knew the networks wanted to show the big new film, so they insisted that if they wanted to show the big new film they must also show their lame new film.

And so we get ‘Ghostbusters’ floating around TV schedules like a spectre of such low-level irritation that nobody is even bothered capturing it in a trap. Pick any godawful flop (RIPD) that mooches around mysteriously and you have the explanation; it is there because it has to be so Top Gun: Maverick can draw in viewers for the network. The only problem is that there is only so much space, and there are a lot of films competing for it. Every time a bad movie is legally obliged to be shown, a good movie cannot be shown in its stead. There is a good business reason, from the studio side, for this. But it might be self-harming. If people only saw good movies, wouldn’t it make them more interested in movies per se? Is that not worth accepting flops flopped?

And from the 1990s to the 2020s we have added a lot of stuff to the list of circulating titles. It is getting harder to watch 1960s titles on TV, because that decade is now as distant as the 1930s were to the 1990s. As for getting 1930s movies on TV right now… It’s getting harder to even see the Marx Brothers on TV after the loss of TCM. As specialty movie channels shutter, and the competing walled-garden streaming services simply will not host old movies, all we have left are the networks – who are swamped with dreck. Off the top of my head these are the 1930s movies I actually expect to see on TV over a year: Gone with the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, The Adventures of Robin Hood, King Kong, The 39 Steps, The Lady Vanishes.

It’s not enough. It shouldn’t be the case that Back to the Future is considered a very old film and The Lord of the Rings is viewed as an old trilogy. (Not least because LOTR somehow has better VFX than nearly all current blockbusters). In the late 1990s the Man with No Name trilogy of Sergio Leone from the 1960s held considerable cultural cachet, the way that the great 1990s flowering of crime movies still holds much esteem now. But this is something that should be compounding not substituting; For a Few Dollars More and Heat should both have a place in the firmament, not just Heat. And the further we get away from the beginning of cinema the worse this problem is going to get. We also move further from a recognisable conception of cinema, but that’s another piece.

In 2007 I saw Zodiac in the cinema and M on DVD from the college library, and as a result the two movies are bound together in my memory; because of the great continuity displayed between Fritz Lang and David Fincher working in the same territory. The dearth of 1930s movies on television deprives us of that sense of continuity. Which I fear leads to the contempt I witnessed in the 2016 screening of Halloween at the Lighthouse, which has now been referenced so many times on this blog as to constitute its own Boogeyman. In this instance I think it is lack of familiarity that breeds contempt. People are too used to sitting in smug judgement of the past, which increasingly seems to mean the first thing they encounter that they don’t remember personally. Because they don’t know it.

April 14, 2024

Art is Everywhere

For quite some time I have been referring to Arthur Brooks as the Atlantic’s Happiness Guru. This week he doffed his cap in appreciation to the happiness guru’s guru – Carl Jung. Of particular interest was Jung on Art and happiness.

Jung’s advice, late in life, on how to achieve happiness in life, was being parsed by Brooks. Number three on the list was – seeing beauty in art and in nature. “Jung believed that happiness required one to cultivate an appreciation for beautiful things and experiences.” Brooks distinguished between beauty in nature and beauty in art, noting that across cultures the value of solitary engaging with nature was recognised, but that modern research shows with art happiness depends on the aesthetic mode; it’s a multiplier for that mode when the solitary person engages. Thus his gloss on Jung’s advice: “6. Spend time in nature, surround yourself with beauty that uplifts you, and consume the art and music that nourish your spirit.”

Not everyone can paint. But that doesn’t mean you can’t transform the world around you into art. You do after all have a mobile phone that outpowers most of the technology of the 20th century used in great cinema and photography. Surround yourself with beauty that uplifts you, is a veritable injunction to seek out the art in the everyday – everywhere. Walking down a well-worn corridor I looked for the thousandth time at a potted plant and saw for the first time that, to coin a phrase, it had great capabilities for improvement. So I crouched down next to it, when nobody was around, and got the lighting just so, and voila, a potted plant was now a still life.

A few days later in a different building I found myself in a temporarily empty room, and once again, as GK Chesterton would say, after safely seeing something for nine hundred and ninety times, I, on the thousandth go, fell into the frightful danger of seeing it for the first time. I noticed there was some strange quality about the ceiling that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Then I realised what it was. If you squinted just right, and made some allowances, it could evoke the monochrome work of Kazimir Malevich. So, making sure my guerilla art framing was unobserved, I tried to line everything up just right, to make it look like Malevich tinkering about with Suprematism.

Finally, for your consideration, a blue sky with a white cloud from which any other trace of nature has been carefully excised in an attempt to render it a piece of abstract expressionism. Not the best I could do. It was never going to be a Rothko, but it is neither high Pollock nor late Monet either. But nature can be so inconsiderate in putting things in front of the way of getting the right shot. And placing the position where you might get the perfect shot in a physically impossible location. So, needs must. It only looks as good as it does because the Film Editor patiently explained to me how to save a cropped image on Google Photos.

The Art Historian, in talking about what the rigour of the academic training does in teaching you how to really look at something, laid stress on Framing. Once the artist is composing the picture, which is hugely important before a brushstroke has even been applied, balance and emphasis come in. Gericault lining up the bodies on the raft. But first you must frame the picture, and what you leave out then is as important as what you leave in. So I would like to offer up a work in progress, of my attempting to find art in the everywhere, in these three photos. When I saw this marble statue, it stood out from its surroundings, so I took a photo.

I didn’t know what type of tree I was looking at, even if the word acacia floated across my mind unbidden. But there weren’t many others like it in the park, so I made sure to try and get its foliage in the shot when I moved to get a second picture of the statue from a different angle. Then I realised that possibly I was missing what should be the most important feature of any photo, and what would be an interesting way to frame it. I was literally not seeing the wood for the trees. And so the third shot came about. Hopefully placing the statue in an interesting position in the frame, and making the tree subordinate.

All the time I was doing this sizing up of possible shots a woman nearby was also moving to and fro in front of and around the statue doing the same dance with framing, composition and distance as I was. I don’t know if she ended up in the same place as me when it came to her final photo. Probably not. And that’s the point. The individual judgement. As Brooks on Jung had it – “Surround yourself with beauty that uplifts you”. And if you are finding art in the everyday, that means it will be as different for each person as the old tradition of artists painting side by side the same subject but somehow producing radically different canvases.

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