Masterpiece Corner: San Taam

Uneasy, confusing and utterly bewildering to behold.

San Taam (Mad Detective) caught my eye due to being included in the excellent Masters of Cinema Blu-Ray series distributed by EUREKA!. I went into the film almost entirely blind, as it seems to be seldom discussed within the online film community. What I discovered resonated with me instantaneously. A weird, blood soaked neo-noir totally befitting of the honor of being called a masterpiece. My second viewing only strengthened this view, and filled in the gaps that my first viewing left me with, and I am now convinced that this film should be considered one of the great neo-noirs of the last decade. (Spoilers from this point onward).

The film opens with a bang, setting the tone of the story perfectly in a brief prologue sequence. A detective, whose name is revealed to be Bun, explores several strange and extreme methods for solving a case, including attacking a pig carcass with a knife and throwing himself down several flights of stairs within a suitcase. This scene establishes both the skill and unhinged nature of  the main character, and concludes with the detective slicing off his own ear in the middle of his entire department. This brings the opening sequence back to reality, the audience now knows that this unhinged character is not to be taken lightly.This opening scene is the root of much of my love for this film, and I would use it as a prime example of how to start a character driven story properly. Before the story even begins a mystery is ignited, why did Bun slice of his own ear?  There is method to the man's madness in the first few instance of 'madness' we are shown, however the ear slicing scene takes things down a sharp different direction. What happened? Why did Bun lose the plot completely? These questions suck the viewer in and establishes a freakishly fascinating character in only a few minutes.

I am going to go on a brief interlude to praise this film's lighting. I do not even know how to really describe the lighting throughout most of the film. It has an ethereal and misty quality to it, particularly during the scenes with Bun's house and within a dimly lit restaurant. It is worth noting that both of these locations are highly significant to the main character, and so serve to  simulate his thought process. Misty, unclear and hard to identify, however still with a sharp and potent brightness behind the fog. I could go scene by scene and dissect the lighting in this film and I certainly consider it one of the most fascinating elements of the entire picture. 

Moving on from lighting, every actor in this film offers up a strong  performance, particularly Bun himself. Ching Wan Lau is fantastic in the main role, being highly likable and charismatic, drawing the audience into every crazy idea the character has, whilst still being animated and erratic enough to sell these crazy ideas as genuine.  Andy On is also very good as the film's second protagonist, Ho. The character acts as the perfect counterbalance to Bun, being far more stable and relatable to the audience whilst retaining an interesting character arc in his own right. On is able to keep up with Lau remarkably well, and sells the character as highly capable yet inexperienced and prone to worry. The interactions between these characters are well written and serves as the meat of the film's story very well.

What truly makes this film special though, is it's surrealist elements. The idea of setting a relatively simple noir storyline from the perspective of a mentally unstable character is inspired, and makes for a compelling spice to a fairly familiar recipe. Bun sees the inner personalities of every character in the film, as well as other things that other characters cannot, leading to some interesting visualisations of emotions and other aspects of each character. The main suspect of the case, and later the film's primary antagonist, has seven inner-personalities, which struggle for control over the body at several points in the film. 

These ideas are very visually interesting, and are sold beautifully. This is largely due to the film's high quality cinematography (particularly during the climax where everything is finally allowed to let loose), the films excellent use of sound to highlight specific objects within the story (usually guns) and the aforementioned brilliant lighting. The film is overall a technical masterpiece, with not a single element failing to sell the film's unique and deeply ambient atmosphere.

In conclusion, I find this film grossly underrated. It is one of the most adventurous and well put together crime thrillers made in the past decade, and I hope it's ideas and ambiance are taken up by other films in the future. I am fervently interested in the rest of Johnnie To's filmography, as I find his technique and ability to sell a fairly simple story captivating. San Taam's ending for example is simply exquisite for example, perfectly bringing everything built up throughout the film to a head in a simple gunfight and ending the story on an ambiguous and bittersweet note, which is highly open to interpretation. I would highly recommend this film to fans of noir and world cinema alike, it really is a hidden gem.

By Jack D. Phillips
Masterpiece Corner #4

Masterpiece Corner: Harvey

One of the most charming and lovable films ever made

On the surface, Harvey is a very simple and easily forgotten film. It does not immediately appear to be 'cinematic' and seems to more of a filmed stage production than an actual noteworthy picture in it's own right. Despite this however, I am not only a huge fan of this film, but it contains one of my all time favourite leading performances, from Mr. Jimmy Stewart himself.

Harvey was released in 1950 and is an adaptation of Pulitzer Prize winning play of the same name. The film's origins as a play are very apparent, both in terms of its pacing and in the style of acting it contains. Director Henry Koster was clearly more concerned with capturing the essence of the original play than morphing the story into a cinematic one, and in most cases I would critisise this decision. However it works so well here that I can only see excessive changes as a bad thing, and I commend Koster for how thoroughly he held his ground in maintaining the story's essence. Harvey is not a big or bombastic film, it is a simple tale about a man who sees a giant white rabbit. The simple setup the film utilises allows the actors to stretch themselves in ways they otherwise would;d not be able to, and it allows Stewart to deliver his amazing performance (Spoilers from this point onward).

James Stewart dominates this film in every single scene he inhabits. I am thoroughly convinced that his character, Elwood P. Dowd, is the most lovable man ever put on screen, and Stewart immerses himself in the role completely. His excellent and highly expressive face is a total joy to watch, and his controlled posture gives the character the air of a gentle giant.  The film's outstanding screenplay gives Stewart every opportunity to showcase the depth of his performance. Perhaps the most well known scene in the film is a monologue delivered by Elwood describing how his imaginary friend came to be named Harvey. This scene stands as one of the most engrossing monologues I have seen in any film and stands as a testament to Stewart's incredible ability as an actor.

Beyond Stewart's performance, Elwood is a highly fascinating character in his own right. The nature of his mental illness is left vague and the concept of the supernatural is never totally dismissed, leading the audience to constantly wonder whether or not Harvey is real. The audiences ultimate decision on whether he is real or not does not weaken the film in any way, rather the extra audience involvement acts to help them get engrossed in the drama's of Elwood's life. It sounds cliche' to say, but I honestly forgot I was watching a film at points, as the story and dialogue was so effective at keeping me engaged in the action onscreen. Harvey is not a film which will immediately win over it's audience, it aims to do so in a slower fashion, capturing the viewer's heart with it's lovable characters and charming ambiance.

All of the previous elements that make this a masterpiece in my eyes were noticed on my first viewing, however it was upon my second where I began to notice the subtle brilliance of the film's cinematography and editing. They appear to be basic at first, however it is surprisingly far from standard. On my second watch I began to notice how long shot's were held for, continuing to run far beyond where I would usually expect a cut. The director clearly did not want his actor's performances disfigured by cuts, and allows the script to dictate the film's flow rather than the editor. This is a risky move and could have resulted in a boring film, wherein every scene would simple comprise of people talking in a flat and dull shot. However here it becomes a dance, with Stewart and the other main players leading the camera around the sets in slow but unmistakably beautiful movements. The film also offers some highly memorable imagery, particularly in it's iconic final shot, and is overall far more visually sophisticated than I originally gave it credit for being.

The final thing I wish to talk about, the element which convinced me to cover this film for this series, is the theme of time. Elwood, and other characters, frequently make reference to how different Elwood was a few years ago, and that Harvey has not always been with him. We get hints that Elwood was a far more 'normal' person, possibly in a high position of authority. These hints come together in a monologue which reveals that Elwood does not look back fondly on his old self, holding that it is better to be pleasant than clever. Much can be taken from this small undercurrent, however I choose to believe that the film is stating that a person can always change, and there is no excuse to remain in an unhappy lifestyle when you can always change it.

Overall, Harvey is a masterpiece. It's acting is some of the best you will ever see in an American film from this period, and it uses the film form in quietly brilliant ways. Track it down for yourself, and discover one of the definitive classic American films in my opinion.

By Jack D. Phillips
Masterpiece Corner #3

Masterpiece Corner: When the Wind Blows

The most devastating film I have ever seen

Just to lay out how effective this film is and how much domination it enjoys over my soul, simply know that it made me cry and hopelessly paranoid hours after watching, twice. That in mind, When the Wind Blows is a fairly obscure and rarely discussed British animated film from 1986. Directed by animation legend Jimmy T. Murakami (chiefly known for the iconic short film, The Snowman) and based of the book by Raymond Briggs, the film is fairly notorious among animation fans for it's extremely dark subject matter, and the infamously bleak depiction of this subject matter. It has since been heralded as a hidden gem and a classic of 80's British cinema.

The film follows an elderly English couple, a man named Jim and a woman named Hilda, living in an isolated cottage in the countryside. Their life is shown to be extremely idealic and free of worry, immediately making the characters the least likely focus for a film about the effects of a nuclear bomb, which this film is. We follow their preparations for the upcoming bomb, done with the aid of Government pamphlets, which is done in a relatively light-hearted and almost comedic fashion. The audience is lulled into false sense of security by the chipper, gentle and warm tone. A bomb could not possibly fall on the lives of characters such as these, they are far too innocent to exist in an environment like that, the viewer thinks to themselves in hope. Even the occasional cutaways to the bombs being prepared to launch from Russia seem unnreal, set aside the domestic disputes of the two characters. Despite the expectations and hopes of the audience, fall the bomb does. (Spoilers from this point onward).

Jim and Hilda die. They die very slowly and in ever increasing pain and misery, this slow decay into death is the focus for the film past the opening twenty minutes. This is why the film is infamous, it tackles the true horror and misery that would result from a nuclear war and is unforgettably upsetting.

As you can tell from the image above, the film has a very plump and cute art-style. It is reminiscent of The Snowman and looks not too dissimilar to a TV special for little kids. On it's own, this aesthetic would probably be ill equipped to handle the horror of the film's later section, therefore the film mixes in many other animation styles. Pencil drawn, stop motion, watercolour and even stop motion is mixed into this film in some capacity. Every single one of these styles is used to display a specific element of the films story. For example, the pencil drawn segments are used whenever the characters have a pleasant or wistful dream sequence, of which there are two in the film (along with one which is far less pleasant, yet equally dreamlike). The multiple animation styles are blended stunningly, all creating and specific effect and building towards the film's overall effect. Not only would I praise the animation of this film, but I would go as far as to call it an astonishing achievement, a milestone in the evolution of animation. There are very few films which use it's visual style to such an effect, and almost none which do so as creatively. In the end, we see our plush and warm little characters wither away through radiation poisoning. Their cute, childlike animation giving way to a nightmarish window into reality.

Above and beyond the awe inspiring animation are the vocal performances from Peggy Ashcroft and John Mills. The two actors bring the characters to life with such believable sensitivity that it is hard to describe. These feel like real, living, breathing people. At several points in the film, I am reminded of my own grandparents and other elderly people I have known. The inflections of pain, and slow creeping sentiment of despair that grows within their voices throughout the film is possibly the most saddening thing I have ever heard. It is hard to comprehend or articulate, it is simply harrowing.

Overall, When the Wind Blows is a very simple film. It does one thing, rend the soul of it's viewer (in this case me) and it does it better than any film I have ever witnessed. Upon my second viewing (I set myself a goal to watch films at least twice before I review them for MC) I noticed one other beam of brilliance which tipped this film into officially being a work of genius in my eyes. The films, chronology. The audience is never informed how much time passes between the bombs impact, and the couples' death. At first I assumed several days due to the dwindling supplies they endure, however they did not seem very well prepared in the first place. The frequent fades to black could imply the passing of days, weeks or merely hours. As the gloomy grey environment never changes, under the effect of a nuclear winter, time is completely distorted and impossible to read. This single revelation confirmed what I had previously suspected, this film is cinematic purgatory incarnate.

I am now quite fervently anti-nuclear because of this film, and have a streak of paranoia that I didn't realise before. This will be the most depressing and bleak review I will ever write on this blog, and that is only to pay some level of tribute to this masterpiece of misery.

By Jack D. Phillips
Masterpiece Corner #2

Masterpiece Corner: The Bad Sleeps Well

Kurosawa's great cinematic tragedy

The Bad Sleeps Well is one of the less talked about films from the legendary filmmaker Akira Kurosawa. Despite it's relative obscurity amongst his other peak period films, The Bad Sleeps Well is a highly important film within Kurosawa's filmography. It showed a return to the thriller and noir genres after eleven years of absence (the last film he did in this style was Stray Dog in 1949) and is one of the most narratively complex films Kurosawa ever made. It is also one of the small handful of Shakespeare adaptations Kurosawa made throughout his career, this being an adaptation of Hamlet, and is the film which takes the most liberties with it's source material. So with all that context out of the way, here is my analysis on one of my favourite of all of Kurosawa's films. (Spoilers from this point onward)

The Bad Sleeps Well features all the typical Kurosawa regulars. Takeshi Shimura and Toshiro Mifune are obviously here, as this film was at the peak of the trios legendary collaborative period. However The Bad Sleeps Well is also a meeting point for several actors who previously collaborated with Kurosawa, including Masayuki Mori (Rashomon), Ko Nishimura (who would later appear in Yojimbo), Kamatari Fujiwara (Seven Samurai) and Takeshi Kato, who was actually a surprisingly frequent collaborator as I discovered. This cast results in a film which has a very comfortable feel, filled with actors who Kurosawa had either already worked with or would later go on to work with again. It is clear that Kurosawa wanted his adaptation of one of the most well known tragedies of all time, and his genre return to be handled by only those he trusted the most.

In terms of the actual quality of those performances, and the characters associated with them, they are all truly mesmerising. Toshiro Mifune is one of the all time great actors, and here he gives perhaps the most complex performance of his career. The character of Nishi (our resident Hamlet equivalent) goes through many changes throughout the film. He starts off unassumingly distant and formal, growing more malicious and icy as his plan takes shape. After his cover is blown and the situation changes dramatically Mifune is able to show the oppressed happiness and regrets of the character. This effectively reverse engineers the character, showing us the calculated and harsh retributionist and then giving a glimpse at the regrets and pains that gave birth to this coldness. The character's tragic end at the hands of the powers he was attempting to destroy is a sad idea to contemplate, yet seems fitting for a character who has given himself entirely to a life of vengeance. The Bad Sleep Well gives Mifune one of his most tragic and layered roles, and he thrives when given such lush material. His posture, his facial expressions and his subtle mannerisms all give vital insights into this highly fascinating character. I can honestly say that if there was ever to be a single film which proves how special Mifune was, this would be it.

The film is also littered with many other juicy performances and characters. There is not a failure among them, and they each supporting character goes through a journey throughout the film. Despite the incredibly rich material given to Mifune, the film is also notable for how much significant material is given to the other actors. Shimura is given a slimy and rat-like executive character, a clever twist on the benevolent and wise characters he was typically known to play. Kato is wry and confident as Nishi's closest accomplice, representing the final vestige of Nishi's past (quite literally as the two characters switched names before the events of the film) and is the only character able to bring out the latent joy and contentment of Nishi's younger years. Fujiwara's character acts as the film's voice of reason, however he also drinks from the well of vengeance that has tainted Nishi and is subject to the same melancholic nostalgia to a life before this bleak narrative began. Fianally, Mori is given the film's most villainous role, a character that breathes selfishness and exudes an unspeakable pitifulness. His victory is a completely hollow one, adding to the tragedy of the film's finale. No character escapes the conclusion unscathed and the destructive nature of vengeance and deceit is inflicted upon all the players in the film's vile game of cat and mouse.

At the film's end, Nishi's quest to dismantle the corrupt and erroneous corporation which stole his life from him fails. It fails due to a moment of emotional weakness on Nishi's part, as he attempts to restore his relationship with his wife and build a future for himself.  For a tragedy to succeed the character's must feel secure, 99% certain that their plan will prevail. However we the audience, aware of the 1% the character's have overlooked, are powerless as our protagonists ultimate weakness results in their downfall. The Bad Sleeps Well is not quite that simple however. Here, the protagonist is not a force of good, regardless of what he believes. Nishi is a psychological torturer, breaking a man potentially forever, and his reckless vengeance leaves his childhood friend without an identity or a future. Furthermore, the villain gains nothing from his victory, in fact he probably suffers even more as a result. His home life is forever torn asunder and his career (which he spent the film fighting to protect) is called into question regardless.

The Bad Sleeps Well is the beautifully shot, visually told story of a man attempting to fight the corporate machine at their own game. However it ends with lives ruined, families destroyed and futures ended. The film poignantly sets it's final act with the ruins of a factory, bombed during WWII. This serves as the ultimate visual metaphor as to what remains of the character's lives after the screen finally fades to black. Ikiru ends with a final hopeful reminder that all a person's good work will always be remembered, regardless of how cruel the world is. The Bad Sleeps Well shows a world where good intentions, no matter how pure, result in desolation  and misery. The Bad Sleeps Well is not my favourite Kurosawa film, however it is very close.

By Jack D. Phillips

Masterpiece Corner #1