Some more film blogging about the silver screen, again for indie music website The 405. I went to a press screening of 30 Minutes or Less, an action comedy starring Jesse Eisenberg, most famous for movie The Social Network, and Danny McBride, most famous for his HBO TV series Eastbound and Down.
“30 Minutes or Less is a little too much like ordering a Pizza. It seems like a good idea at the time, with a great cast bouncing from TV fame and Oscar nominations. The first bite dissolves in your mouth with cheesy familiarity, as the characters stick to what they know and do best. You know it’s bad for you; crude jokes, bland at points, but the slices come thick and fast…”
This is another review for The 405, but this time a review of the mighty electronic music festival Bloc weekend, running strong in it’s 5th year.
As a student I always looked at the Bloc line-up and sighed. Perfectly sandwiched between exams and dissertation hand-ins, this indoor festival is always unbookable for those still hoping to pass their exams. But not this year. With my recovery time booked off and my boyfriend emotionally blackmailed, I was finally going to a festival my ears have been having waxy wet dreams about for years.
I have to admit that I had massive preconceptions after my own massive build-up. I was convinced that sleepy little Minehead, better known in festival land for the more relaxed All Tomorrow’s Parties, would become Shoreditch-by-the-Sea once the hipstamatic crowd arrived wearing dayglo loafers. Arriving via the Bloc bus on the Thursday night confirmed my worst suspicions. We spent the evening curtain twitching from the confines of our chalet watching the herds of 20-year-olds excitedly running around screaming like they had just been let off the leash. We made the wise decision not to join them in the main arena, retiring to a rubber lined mattress, that killed all passions as well as bed bugs.
The Foursquare top-tip is to upgrade on your accommodation – and they are not wrong on that front. The four person chalets appear to be the most comfortable; five bed cram in an extra person via a bunk bed, six beds still only have two keys to share, while the 8 beds are guaranteed party dorms. Distance wise it took less than 10 minutes to walk from the edge of the festival site to the main arena, and food wise it does pay to take the 15 minute hike to the supermarkets outside Butlins to stock up on liquids and other supplies for the weekend. There was a constant challenge to sneak booze past the security lining the arena – the best one was a can snug in the hoodie.
The biggest shock of the festival hit while ripping open the programme pack. Friday night featured many of the programme heavyweights, including Modeselektor, Jamie XX, Magnetic Man, Dopplereffect, Ramadanman & Joy Orbison, all dramaticly clashing. Thankfully the festival arena is small yet roomy enough so people can move comfortably from one stage to another within less than 5 minutes, but it didn’t stop the crowd tweeting their grumbles to #Bloc2011. While I was initially disappointed, I understand it was a tactic to limit queueing times and packed dancefloors. This could have been implemented a little more, such as Saturday night. The queue for Fourtet & Aphex Twin left many disappointed as it snaked around the arena, but many found salvation in the form of DJ Funk when searching for their kicks elsewhere.
Musically the crowd got what they were promised. Each stage was produced by a different promoter/group each night, selecting their own pick of perfection. For me Friday night was spent in the company of the Modeselektion’s finest; Ikonika kept a throbbing pace even after a power cut, Apparat dazzled with sensitivity, but the definite high point accumulated with Modeselektor inviting the crowd on stage for Happy Birthday. After Moderat blew me away mid Saturday I knew I had my musical high point of the festival. But there was so much more to come.
One of the highlights for me has to be the crowd – a 70:30 ratio of tech heads, their mates, and their fun loving girlfriends, always on the same level. Every stage had it’s own visual delights to dribble over, with enough room for flamboyant booty shaking and enough seating for when you get the leg wobblies. And the with a Funktion 1 rig on every stage, tinnitus never featured in your hangover.
In terms of location, tone, crowd I can not fault anything. The hard electronica music may not be to everyones taste, but I have never danced harder.
A few weeks ago I discovered that Protein were hosting a screening of the new Vincent Moon film, a collaboration with the Danish band Efterklang. I went along, wrote some words, and today The 405 are promoting the piece as today’s main feature on the homepage. Huzzah!
Vincent Moon // In Depth
The MTV generation is dead. No longer do we stare at a electronic box to get our music video fix, being force fed a hip-mentality via product placement or being romanced by thonged jiggling asses dribbling sex. Now the box of dreams sells us aspirational reality television, while have eloped with youtube and vimeo for our creative crack (or dopamine fix?). Now we are all critics. Now we make and broadcast our own. The MTV generation is dead. Long live the culture of free. And here I present to you, your king, Vincent Moon.
The Parisian director has put a new prominence on relationship between music and cinema through his experimental films on bands including Yeasayer, R.E.M, Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear, Mogwai and most recently Efterklang. His vérité filmaking was first noticed by The National, whom Moon befriended shortly after the release of their first album. Moon made his first music videos for the band, provided the photography for the cover of their album Aligator, and later shot the band’s first feature length documentary entitled ‘A Skin, A Night’. The film chronicled the making of the album The Boxer and the lead-up to a performance at London’s Koko, but was heavily criticised by the band’s fans for being too avant-guard & lo-fi, as well as not showing enough of the bands music.
Moon’s early work was also noticed by Chryde, owner of the french blog theblogoteque, who was looking for someone to film weekly video podcasts of indie bands doing impromptu and al-fresco performances. The pair founded and have been running The Take-Away shows ever since, in 4 years they have produced over 200 clips of many underground musicians from the Europe’s blogsphere and beyond.
In 2009 Moon received critical acclaim for his documentary on the 2008 All Tomorrow Parties, a nolstalgic homage to the increasingly popular band curated festival. During the last year Moon has been travelling around the world as a wayfaring nomad, documenting his sights and the sounds via his blog fiumenights, as well as his trusty Panasonic 171.
Stylistically, Moon’s self-shot work is very self-aware as its status as an alternative and often unexpected take on the fan video. Moon sees himself a ‘passeur’, “a link, a connexion, a bridge between people, sounds and cultures,” marrying music and film as one complete entity. His films adopt a warm over-saturated color balance, while the hand-held camerawork produces jumpy shots that either bounce or flow with the musicality of the soundtrack, with long close-ups of inanimate objects or facial expressions that pan out to all encompassing crowd scenes. Much of his work is seemingly unplanned, unchoreographed, and unscripted, but successfully gives the illusion that you are witnessing a creativity in its most raw and unpolished form. Moon is heavily influenced by found experimentations of Austrian Peter Tscherkassky, and the cinematic anthropology and Jump-cuts of Jean Rouch, tries to work outside of a monetary economy, and always releases his work under a Creative Commons licence.
His latest film is a collaboration with the Danish 9-peice Efterklang. Running at just under an hour, An Island was filmed over four days in August 2010 on (unsurprisingly) an island in the Danish countryside. It was released in February but is being distributed in a extraordinary way, via public or private screenings that anyone can host. A contest was launched via Wired.com to find the host of the world premiere on the 31st of January, which was Latvian Raimonds Gusarevs. Less than two weeks later there have been over 500 public/private screenings of An Island all over the world. People can contact Moon via the film’s website to apply as long as they fulfil two conditions; that at least 5 people attend the screening, and the event is free. People can still register to host their own screenings up until the 31st of March.
There are plenty of other public/private screenings taking place, as well the chance to catch it at gigs during Efterklang’s UK tour, check the website for more details, as well as Moon’s own website for his filmography.
Here is my latest review for The405, of the new Rowan Joffe film, adapted from the Graham Greene Novel.
Brighton Rock
When I think of any characters called Rose on the silver screen, they always strike me as exceptionally drippy. Brighton Rock is no different, except this female lead gushes more than a Victorian sewer. It’s impossible to watch a beautifully innocent and deeply religious young girl fall hard for a wannabe gangster who’s as charming as his flick-knife, without questioning the almost absurd plot line. It’s enough to make a bad namesake.
Brighton Rock is based on the 1938 Graham Greene novel of the same name, but this version is set in 1964 against the backdrop of the Brighton youth riots. It tells the unlikely love story of Pinkie (Sam Riley), a self-appointed gang leader, and a waitress and awkward wallflower Rose (Andrea Riseborough). When Pinkie murders a rival gang member in cold blood, Rose is a potential witness to the crime. The pair grow close as Pinkie tries to extract the information he needs from her, but spins her further into a web of trouble. Rose’s boss Ida (Helen Mirren), seeking justice for her departed friend, becomes aware of Rose’s involvement with Pinkie and her apparent alibi for him. The more Ida tries to warn Rose about the danger she is in, the more Rose wants to protect her love. But would Pinkie do the same for Rose, or is he just using her?
From the perspective of a recent Brighton resident, the film is a delight visually. Brighton – although most of the filming was completed in Eastbourne – is stuck in a timewarp with retro costumes and furnishings in familiar locations. The cinematography has a hipstamatic feel, with smart editing between some scenes in the first half of the film.
For all the film’s beauty, I did find it quite difficult to connect with the leads. A wooden Riley plays Pinkie as impulsive and untrusting. In contrast, the fantastic Gainsborough is fiercely loyal, but stupidly naive. As the film progresses you are encouraged to despise the anti-hero Pinkie because of his treachery, but love Rose as she blossoms from a dowdy awkward girl into a beautiful woman with an independent mind. Both characters desperately need the depth given through back stories much earlier in the film for the audience to empathise with them. For a directorial debut it is a good effort, but even the supporting cast have hammed up their performances to make up for the apparent lack of direction.
Like a stick of seaside rock, I was hoping the more the film exposed, the softer it would be at its core. But the more I digested the more I found myself not caring, except for the final gratifying mouthful.
As I have mentioned before on Twitter/Facebook/to anyone that will listen, I’m going to start writing film reviews for the online Music/Art/Film magazine The 405. My first review was published on the site yesterday, a review of the Oscar contender The Fighter starring Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams and Melissa Leo.
While I’ll mostly be writing about film, The 405‘s specialism is mainly indie and electronic music, with plenty of reviews, interviews and interesting debates about independent music. It’s run by an uber enthusiastic bunch of individuals and it’s content is written by an even savvier bunch of volunteers. I’m joining the team to review new film releases for the site as a personal exercise for me to keep writing on a regular basis, improve my writing technique and commentary on popular culture, and hopefully as a spring board for other work in the future.
It’s easy to walk into the cinema thinking The Fighter is just another wannabe Rocky. Don’t. While The Fighter is based on the true, rags-to-riches story of Micky ‘Irish’ Ward, the story is as captivating and entertaining as any other, but thankfully misses out the steroid injections.
It’s mid 80’s Massachusetts. Micky Ward (Mark Walberg) is a thirty-year-old welterweight boxer, known in the sport as a ‘stepping stone’, used in fights to allow other boxers to reach the big time. Micky is managed by his mother Alice (Melissa Leo) but she instead dotes on his older half-brother Dicky Eklund (Christan Bale), a former boxer, local legend, and crack-cocaine addict. Dicky, a boyhood inspiration to Micky, is predictably unreliable and spends more time in the local crack house than in the boxing ring training Micky.The film is less about Micky’s professional struggles in the ring and more about his personal struggles with his dysfunctional family.
The film is well paced throughout and contains fewer boxing scenes than expected, but they’re nevertheless realistically grisly. There are some nice cinematic touches that remind you of the realism of the story, such as the grainy television screenings of Micky’s matches and the documentary that Dicky was taking part in. The comic scenes are also a surprise given the subject matter, particularly the ones involving Dicky and Alice avoiding the inevitable intervention for Dicky’s habit, and Charlene spectacularly locking hair with Micky’s seven sisters.
Mark Wahlberg, also from a Massachusetts family of 9 children, looks very comfortable in the lead role, physically training for this film for the last 4 years, as well as producing it. However, for all of Wahlberg’s passion, Micky appears to have very little of it, which is the film’s weakness. Both the film and Micky’s career are driven in two different directions by the strong supporting cast. Christian Bale and Melissa Leo provide outstanding Oscar worthy performances, while Amy Adams portrays Micky’s girlfriend Charlene Fleming as understated, but just as fierce.
It’s also worth noting that the Dropkick Murphys song to Micky Ward ‘The Warriors Code’ surprisingly did not appear in the soundtrack. I think this is because the overall tone of the film isn’t just a celebration of Micky’s achievements, but also Dicky’s personal come-back. The Fighter won’t start a boxing revolution, or batter your emotions on the ropes, but it’s in great shape and defiantly worth a punt.
East London residents might recognise this cuddly multi-coloured cross-stitch bear, it’s a character created by Graffiti artist Malarky, as seen in Brick Lane.
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