The Social Network

I'll admit I took my time seeing The Social Network, for no particular reason other than poorly timed final assignments and a general lethargy. When I finally had time to see 'the facebook movie', I had heard so many great things about it I was generally confused. How could a movie about the development of a website be so mind-blowingly miraculous that it makes your head and bowels explode in a Jackson Pollock-esque fantasia, and you cannot continue living until posting a hilarious status on your facebook, about the facebook movie. I did feel a bit like I was the last person to see this movie, after reading everyone on facebook's hilarious statuses about it - however I was pleased to see three or four elderly couples joining me the moving-going experience. Octogenarians may not have facebook, but they're suckers for a bargain movie ticket price.

Needless to say, no film can live up to the hype of the general public. Objectively, however, I did enjoy a lot of The Social Network. A retelling of the development of Facebook via the two lawsuits of creator, Mark Zuckerberg, the film tracks the highs and lows of Zuckerberg's creation, resulting in his monolithic fortune, and the relationships he sacrificed to get it.



My feelings on this film are conflicted; my undying love and potential stalking of writer Aaron Sorkin get in the way of criticizing the screenplay at all. Sorkin's particular heightened style of writing seemed perfectly suitable for this kind of film. Characters like Zuckerberg, socially awkward and incredibly intelligent, only accentuate Sorkin's incredible, fluid dialogue. While there were too many moments of characters looking longingly out windows only to be pulled back to reality by someone continuously calling their name, on the whole the script seemed quite strong. Moments of incredibly well timed comedy coupled with some very Sorkin monologues of revelation and denunciation, the cast seemed well equipped in this very particular style of script.

My one criticism of the plot, however, is quite major. On several occasions the film seemed to highlight moments that were completely irrelevant. During the opening credits, we are treated to a lengthy montage of Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) running through his college. Similar attention is lathered onto a regatta scene that simply leads into a conversation back to facebook. While I can understand the juxtaposition between the Adonis-like Winklevoss twins (both played by the stunningly attractive Armie Hammer) and Zuckerberg as old-world/new-world, I didn't need to see them losing a regatta to do so.

I'm not sure if blame should fall on Sorkin's screenplay or Director David Fincher, however my instincts (and blood oath to the church of Sorkin) point to the latter. Similarly, I questioned the choice of color filters used throughout, as, especially in the beginning of the film, there was a propensity towards using greenish-grey filters, commonly associated with dystopian/sci-fi films like The Matrix. While there were computers present in The Social Network, the color scheme almost made it seem like something extraordinary or action-packed was about to happen.

It wasn't.

As with the long shots of regattas and running, Fincher placed an underwhelming amount of energy into scenes like the 1 millionth facebook user or the creation of the site. While the regatta was paired with an epic score (Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross' re-do of In the Hall of the Mountain King) and an enema of enthused, wealthy British men, the 1 millionth user was greeted with lazy applause from Justin Timberlake and some computer generated fireworks.

All-in-all, I feel like it was a really nothing story, I didn't know if it was supposed to be redemption or condemnation of the entire process, nor do I know if the film really knew what it wanted to be - I feel like Fincher was not content simply making 'the facebook movie' and therefore attempted to lather it in techniques and artifice that just seemed to conflict with Sorkin's style of writing.

While enjoyable enough, I'm obviously in the minority thinking the film left more to be desired, but that isn't to say I didn't think it was quite enjoyable. I'd say it's a 6.5, pending friendship approval.

The Hedgehog

The story of an 11-year old wise beyond her years is a complex story to tell. In doing so, Muriel Barbery’s novel The Elegance of the Hedgehog uses her entire apartment block and her newfound love for documentary filmmaking, allowing the audience a first-hand look at Paloma Josse’s life (played by Garance Le Guillermic), or what is left of it. As we find out early in the Writer/Director Mona Achache’s 2009 film Le hérisson (The Hedgehog), Paloma has decided that on her twelfth birthday, she will kill herself, and end what she believes to be a pointless and tortured existence - to avoid being consumed by work (like her father), insanity (like her mother) or her own sense of self (like her sister). Before Paloma is able to go through with her dark deed, a gentleman, Kakuro Ozu (Togo Igawa) moves into the building, and with his help, the two begin to unlock the mysteries behind the building’s concierge, Renée Michel (Josiane Balasko)

The film walks the thin line between a comedy and a drama, dealing with incredibly morbid notions such as a suicidal 11-year old - whose approaches are eerily surgical and understandable ­­– to the concept of finding long after you gave up on yourself. There is a heavy critique of the French bourgeoisie, most of the people in the apartment block are vapid, fake and particularly unkind, trapped in what Paloma describes as a fish-bowl which she refuses to conform to. I had heard many reviews of the film dwelling on the fact that it was overly morbid to the point that it was uncomfortable, however there are some fantastic comic moments that are so understated it’s hard not to laugh-out-loud.

Long before Ozu’s character is introduced, there is a heavy crossover between French and Japanese cultures, while in the beginning this is heavy and overt; it settles mid-way through the film. The film disguises itself within the art of Meditation, and in highlighting the vast differences in two cultures, manages to create a cultureless environment where humanity is key. Ozu physically transforms his apartment from a typical French space to something so uniquely Japanese, complete with comical-robotic bathroom facilities. And while there is some culture-clash, the film is strongest when it is not bothering to comment on the difference in culture. Rather, the idea that within this culturelessness, human relationships are key, without those, there is nothing grounding us to anything.

The film uses a lot of various techniques to shift it from being a typical narrative to having long pauses of animation, introspection and voice-over, which again feel like a moment of meditation for the characters and audience simultaneously. I just wish there hadn’t been this use of sound-bites repeated over each other, which rather than being charming, came off as amateur and unnecessary.

While most people would shudder at the notion of a ‘senior love-story’, The Hedgehog really manages to make it charming to watch. Balasko is dumpy, unattractive, snappy and rude to most people, but as soon as she begins to open up, she blooms into this incredibly likeable and devastatingly charming character.

Balasko and Le Guillermic are both excellent, I can honestly say for two actresses at such different points in their lives, they both provide such different energies and spirits to the film that it’s really lovely to watch.

This film is not predictable, it is not smarmy, and it’s definitely not morbid. Heartbreaking as it is, this is one film I think not to be missed.

The Waiting City

Touted as the first Australian film to be entirely filmed in India, The Waiting City (2009) is Claire McCarthy's first major film. McCarthy wrote and directed the film after travelling to Calcutta with her sister. Whatever the motivation for the film, I'm excited to see what McCarthy produces after The Waiting City, as I believe time will only add to quite an elegant filmmaker. The film follows the story of Fiona Simmons (Radha Mitchell) and her husband Ben (Joel Edgerton), as they travel to Calcutta to collect the daughter they have adopted. Due to a series of administrative delays, the two are trapped in an interlude where they are forced to look at their relationship. With a flamboyant cast of Indian characters supporting them, led by their Driver, Bell Boy and Manservant, Krishna (Samrat Chakrabarti).

After seeing the trailer for the film, I had no intention of seeing it as the storyline looked overdone and clichéd, as if someone had taken any film about a struggling married couple and thrown them in India. However when I saw the director and main performers would be introducing the film, I ambled to the cinema with no real expectations. What I will say about the film is that I hated the first quarter. The writing horrifically clunky and reads very much like a student film. What irks me about McCarthy is that she seems to have the most eloquent understanding of people and is able to bring forward tiny details without making them too overt, Fiona's slight comments and comportment when she first arrives in India is so telling of her 'uptight' character. This quaint writing talent is then juxtaposed, and in my mind totally dwarfed, by a need to be very obvious with what is happening in the minds of characters. A story that is so based in a sense of reality and detail, and realistic self-discovery has the propensity to force characters to become caricatures; Fiona juggling telephones, Ben's artistic need to join everyone he meets in song. A businesswoman and an artist in a relationship, the Odd Couple theme music isn't required to get across the point that they're very different. Similarly some of the religious messages seem a tad misguided and only occasionally less than awkward.

The other problem with the film is this unnecessary secondary story-arc, Ben struggling to find his feet between being a real adult, and his drug-fueled musician past. This, coupled with the stunning Scarlet (Isabel Lucas) brings tension to Fiona and Ben's relationship. Isabel Lucas was in Transformers 2. I am still not entirely convinced that Isabel Lucas is not actually a robot, because she is not an actress. Harsh as that is, I can honestly track my enjoyment of The Waiting City by if Isabel Lucas is onscreen and/or talking. Mitchell, on the other hand, really gains momentum in the film.

Once the very pretty Scarlet takes a backseat role the film really begins to warm up, and finds its heart. To be clear, this isn't a film about overseas adoption, thank god, nor is it a film about India. The apolitical nature of the script allows the viewer to absorb some stunning scenic shots, and the interactions between Fiona and Ben, which really begin to gain strength in both their performances as their story progresses. The film actually contains a few narrative surprises that I honestly didn’t see coming, which was considerate. What could have been a very stale and overdone narrative really took on a life of its own.

While the emotional climax occurs when Ben sings what is possibly the hokiest first-draft of a teenage girl's poem to her crush is cringe-worthy, but on the whole the film embraces tiny, endearing moments that are far more powerful than the overt. I'm curious to see where McCarthy will go from here, in a waiting city of my own.

Mademoiselle Chambon

From Writer/director Stéphane Brizé, Mademoiselle Chambon (2009), an adaptation of Eric Holder's novel, tells the story of a married builder, Jean (Vincent Lindon), who falls in love with his son's teacher, the titular Mademoiselle Chambon (Sandrine Kiberlain). A simple enough story told through somewhat unconventional means, Brizé utilizes drawn out shots, lengthy pieces of classical music and silences which make 101 minutes feel like 45, however I'm not sure I'm convinced that is a strength of the film.

What began as a curios and charming portrait of family, loyalty and forbidden love, quickly became lost and confused, eventually finishing in neither a confronting or shocking resolution, rather the film simply placed the viewer back into the banality of Jean's life. Understandably the film opens with glimpses into Jean, his wife, Anne-Marie (Aure Atika) and their son's lives, happily sharing an afternoon attempting to work out Jérémy's (Arthur Le Houérou) grammar book. This is one example of Brizé's ability to present sincere realism, funny and sweet in a way that lacked all cliché or pretention. Then, faced with Jean caring for his aged father, we again are reassured this is a tight family unit. However all this is to change when Jean walks into his son's school to pick him up, meeting the charming and flawed Véronique Chambon. After their brief encounter, there is obviously something between them, and what develops is a passion beginning as tiny embers that burn and thrash until the two are unable to escape their passions for each other.

I believe the greatest strength of this film was the emotional manipulation Brizé is able to achieve. The audience is forced into the strange and sometimes confusing mindsets of both Jean and Véronique. When Jean leaves a rambling message on her answering machine, she doesn’t flinch to pick up and talk to him. The next call she gets, the audience expects the scene to repeat, perhaps this time she'll break and pick up, however it isn't Jean calling, it's her mother. Initially there's relief, yet as her mother begins to talk, there's disappointment. Why isn't he calling? The audience is physically thrust into this relationship, even if it is forbidden.

As I mentioned earlier, Brizé's use of a sincere realism really adds a much-needed charm to the film, Véronique arranging cakes on a plate in the shape of a smiley-face or the awkward conversations she has with Jean in the beginning of their relationship give you something tangible, a connection with the characters that can otherwise be missing in the heavy scenes of softly delivered dialogues.

The use of music in the film is poignant, i'll give it that, but it didn't seem to anchor itself in the film enough. Obviously the beauty of the violin and the piano (arguably symbols for Véronique and Jean - "more beautiful as an ensemble than separate") are integral to the passion between the two, which is then juxtaposed by the provincial song which concludes the film - a signal that Jean has left behind his notions of his more 'cultured' life with Chambon and is settling for his pragmatic life with his family.

I feel somewhat ambivalent to the film, I didn't feel any emotional connection to any of the characters, if anyone I felt sympathy for Anne-Marie, the wife, which I doubt was the point. The film read like a series of snapshots - on their own they were beautiful, poetic and very well produced, however they did not fit together as a metaphorical album, the connective thread just didn't seem to be there. As individual scenes, I could see a great deal of beauty and clever direction, but when they were placed side-by-side, it became almost overwhelming, heavy and ineffective.

I am not, and don't think I would commit to, saying that I did not enjoy the film, I am saying that I don't think it was something I would happily recommend simply because it wasn't whole. I feel like it was lacking heart and a solidness that could have made it a really potent story about love and an impossible decision.

I am Love

You can tell from the poster, Io Sono l'Amore (I am Love) is not a generic Hollywood film, even the opening credits harken back to classic European cinematography, which should serve as a warning to those hoping to see a a love-story. Tilda Swinton dethrones herself from forever being seen as the White Witch in the Narnia films and steps into the fall of the haute bourgeois at the hands of passion, and unrestricted love. This is a gracious film, while many may compliment it by crowning it a 'beautiful film’; the director unselfishly provides a fantastic and raw story, complete with a cast of complicated and real characters. While not always easy to watch, the film - as cinema - is near perfection, if you consider yourself a fan of cinema, especially European cinema, this is a film you should not miss.

On the surface, you could simply say the plot centers on Emma (Swinton) and her affair with her son's friend Antonio (the confusingly sexy Edoardo Gabbriellini). If you want to push deeper, as Swinton herself has spoke of many times, the film may read as an allegory to capitalism, and the self-destruction behind those that have too much wealth and not enough love. I prefer to see this film as a far more moving family portrait. Edoardo Sr (Gabriele Ferzetti), patriarch of the Recchi family even announces: "Our family fortune, is built on unity." This is exactly what the film begins with; a family built on unity, structured and together. With the undercurrents of unhappiness are all but apparent, it is not until Emma begins to have what appears to be a hedonistic affair with Antonio's cooking. Her curiosity begins with fascination, her lust with a single bite. While the rest of the family begins to unravel, Emma becomes helpless in love, helpless in loss - helpless in life.

An argument for true auteurism, this film does not tell you everything; you leave the theatre still contemplating the lives of the characters - a gift that can only be attributed to the Writer/Director Luca Guadagnino. Emma's identity itself is only a creation of her husband, as she is just as much a product as the industry her husband's factory creates, and finally 'Emma' is reduced to what she began as - not existing.

There are so many scenes in this film that are touching, shocking or moving – juxtaposed with great silences and quiet movements of snow crunching or heels clipping hardwood floors. The entire film is a visceral feast for the senses; poetic, clever and stunning, one of the best films this year has provided.

Mother and Child

Written and directed by Rodrigo García Mother and Child (2009) hinges its entire story on the delicate relationships between mothers and their children. The son of Gabriel García Márquez, storytelling is rife within García's blood, a skill which reveals itself slowly throughout Mother and Child. The film is not without flaw, in fact a bulk of the script comes off as clunky and awkward, but the true beauty of this film comes in the moments between what is being said.

Imagining the film like a web of interconnected people, it begins close with the story of Karen, the stunningly heart-breaking Annette Benning, who became pregnant at fourteen, and gave up her child for adoption the day of its birth. Thirty-seven years later Karen's life revolves around her elderly mother, the woman who "ruined her life" by forcing her to give up her child. All grown up, Karen's child, Elizabeth (Naomi Watts), is a successful lawyer who begins an affair with her boss (Samuel L. Jackson) and married father-to-be neighbor (Marc Blucas). While it is never fully revealed, it is inferred that Elizabeth's upbringing was not the most idillic, however after moving around for most of her adult life, she has settled down in the hometown of her birth-mother, yet neither woman is actively seeking the other. At the same time, we meet Lucy (Kerry Washington) a woman unable to give her husband the one thing he wants, a son of their own, turns to adoption as a final solution.

Through these three women we meet a constantly expanding cast of mothers, lovers, children and friends all of which provide some input to the various approaches to adoption, parenting and love. Admittedly I went into the film knowing nothing about it, after one of those days you'd rather hide away under the covers, so unexpectedly I sat in the theatre alone, constantly having to readjust myself so no one could see me weeping like the emotionally stable person I truly am. I think the power in this film comes from an immaculate cast and a wonderful cinematography. As I mentioned before, García's writing did grate me the wrong way for some portions of the film, but he is a master at quiet moments of introspection which I felt really made up for heavy dialogue.

As I mentioned, Annette Benning was lovely to watch, her only rival was a surprisingly fantastic performance by Kerry Washington, who I was unfamiliar but totally enthralled by. The character of Karen was obviously one the director loved, her quirks and blunt approach to people exposing her as the fourteen year-old that was never able to move forward with her life - "I'm not a weirdo. I'm difficult." Washington, on the other hand, gave one of those performances that are theatrical in nature, complete and well-formed. Possibly one of the best scenes - the others being any of the early moments of Karen's interactions with Paco (Jimmy Smits) - occurs when Lucy's mother is called in to assist the new mother after sleepless nights. These are the moments when the film truly comes alive.

Like his father, García's notion of time does not follow any strict pattern, he takes small steps in the timelines of his characters, yet launches the spectator months into the future without much notice. Sex featured a few times in the film, and on the whole it was well done, almost poetic, however a scene with Elizabeth and her boss was too much for me, a film that was so littered with innocence and passion did not need what felt like a cheap porno interlude. Obviously not without problems, the film is easy to watch, but I do believe you need to be in a particular mindset to really enjoy it, that mindset being completely devoid of happiness. I'm not sure I would recommend this film to just anyone, it has a necessity of viewership that forces you to ignore the troubled dialogue of religion and sex - or the terrible use of swearing that comes off as so labored - or every character's want to divulge their innermost philosophies at the drop of a hat. That's the world García exists in, the world he has created, a world of philosophizing and missed connections, a world of mothers and their children.