Reviews

Well now. There's a class of "art" that some people who probably see themselves as sophisticated idolise. My favourite example was the famous (at least here in the UK) "My bed" by Tracey Emin. Said bed was her own: dirty and unmade, complete with used condoms and bloodied underwear. I watched on telly as it was extolled by the usual faux intellectuals, and could only roll my eyes and sigh.

I've seen films about sad, hurt people obsessed by sex; and one or two of them are actually very good, such as "Sex, Lies and Videotape". But you see, films like that don't dispense with essentials like a decent script and some faint glimmer of the possibility of redemption; not to mention at least something to empathise with in the characters, even if they are badly flawed.

However, we are granted no such saving graces with this film. We have no idea of the back story; have no idea why the central character is like he is, what's the deal with his sister, and frankly, don't care much anyway. Are we supposed to be titillated by the nudity, with the sight of Fassbender licking the rear end of a whore (one of a pair he's having a 3-way with)? Or screwing from behind, against the window of a hotel room in broad daylight, another naked whore? Or are we supposed to be disgusted by such scenes? Who the hell knows? And frankly, my dear, I didn't give a damn.

The lowest score I can give is 1; I've given it 2 because the cinematography isn't that bad, and I suppose Fassbender did the best anyone could with the part. To actually like this film, I suspect I'd have to feel at least as alienated as its director and joint script writer, Steve McQueen, obviously did. I'm truly glad that even in my darkest moments, I always seem to retain a little faith in the humanity of my species.

I bought this from a bin of cheap DVDs in my local supermarket, intrigued by the title. The fact that Daniel Craig and Harrison Ford were in it also prompted me to take a risk: after all, cheap DVDs are often so for a reason.

I must say, I was very pleasantly surprised. I wondered if cowboy and "alien" sci-fi genres would mix very well, and I think in this film they in fact do so. There's intrigue in the story right from the start, when Graig's character wakes up in the desert with a strange device clamped round his wrist, and the pace with which the story unfolds from there is just about right. There's a certain amount of hokum, but not much, and certainly not enough to distract or detract.

The production values are very high and the special effects very convincing: not least because, as the special features make clear, they aren't all CGI. Some of the scenes where alien craft fly overhead and yank people on cords up into the sky were done with models going at 70 mph along high wires, and some of the actors did their own stunts, including Olivia Wilde, who is apparently an accomplished horsewoman.

The test for me is whether I get absorbed and am able to suspend belief. This film did the trick for me, and I'm sure I'll be watching it again. This time, the bargain bin really did produce a bargain. I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys sci-fi films with decent plot, acting, and effects. 9/10 for me.

I didn't know this film existed until I just saw it on British TV--hence the rather belated review. Unfolded linearly, I believe it starts with what is revealed at the end and only very briefly hinted at the opening, and goes like this. A young man, Henry Letham, (Gosling) is driving a car in which there is also his mother, father (Hoskins) and girlfriend, whom he plans to marry--he has the engagement ring with him. Unfortunately, there is a blow-out in a front tyre and the car crashes. Henry is thrown clear and is dying; the others have died already in the car. As it happens, a doctor, Sam Foster (McGregor) was in the car behind and so is on the spot to attend to Henry. There is also a nurse, Lila Culpepper (Watts), whom Sam has never met before, who has run up from her car to help out.

As Henry is dying, in a delirium, mistakenly feeling guilty for a crash that was pure accident, he works everyone he sees around him into a fantasy that may be seeking healing, forgiveness and redemption. This is more or less where the film actually opens, and one begins by taking the fantasy as reality. Sam Foster becomes Henry's psychiatrist. Henry himself becomes an art student (which he may be in real life), who announces he is going to commit suicide on Saturday midnight, around the time the actual crash has happened. In the fantasy, that's three days hence. Lila becomes Sam's sexual partner, onto whom Henry projects some of the characteristics of his own girlfriend. His father becomes a blind colleague of Sam's, with whom the latter is wont to play chess. And his mother and various other bystanders at the crash scene are woven into the narrative of the fantasy also.

As things progress, there are more and more intrusions of Henry's delirium, and it's soon apparent something strange is going on. I think the clues are seeded at a pace that is almost perfect--come the end of the film, when all is revealed, I personally found it satisfying, because enough hints had been given along the way for me to work out most of it, and I felt gratified to have my conclusions confirmed. Incidentally, for me, Sam's half-mast trousers were one of the hints that not all was quite kosher.

Now: I think that if one doesn't get the plot, the film may seem like an art house affair. Accordingly, if one likes art house, maybe one will wax lyrical about its surrealism, and if one doesn't, excoriate it as pretentious. In my opinion, both views are missing the point. At bottom, I see this as a puzzler, and, evaluated as such, really rather clever and consistent. On that account, I give it a solid 8/10.

I give its cinematography an even higher score--10/10. There are flawless transitions, as others have mentioned, of a kind that I don't recall ever seeing before. These aren't just clever for the sake of it; they actually reflect the nature of the fantasy in which Henry finds his separation from Sam, and others into whom he projects himself, becoming blurred. Events/dialogue from his past and from the actual crash scene are being mixed in for good measure.

Henry himself, one intuits, is just as bewildered as we are, trying to work things out along with us. The colours, effects, angles and sets aren't mere pyrotechnics: form and function integrate in harmony with the nature of the story. I've had dreams where there is similar confusion, where I've been trying to figure out what is what and who is who; when I've half woken up, wondering if I'm back in normality. Sometimes, I've not been; I've merely "woken" into another dream. Sometimes I've incorporated real-time elements from waking reality--the alarm has become an ambulance siren; time itself has become distorted, minutes seeming like hours; there may be repetitions of certain events; now I may be this character, now another. And so on--just as in the fantasy that takes up most of the film.

I think this is a masterwork. Not because I'm an artsy-fartsy fan of weirdness, but because the film actually isn't weird at all (but I can well imagine that's how it might appear if I hadn't understood the plot). We all have dreams, right? They're not that weird; commonplace in fact, and this film, for me, cleverly recapitulated some of my dream experiences without explicitly telling me right from the beginning that that's what was happening. It shows and doesn't tell much.

Overall score: 9/10. For my money, it's appreciably better than Sixth Sense, Fight Club, and so on. I will be buying the DVD because I think I will be wanting to watch it over and over, as I feel sure its finer details will continue to reveal themselves; and I don't think I'll soon tire of its visual beauty or the quality of the cast, either.

This film was so good that it prompted me to register just so I could comment about it. There are spoilers, so beware.

As soon as it starts, you have a fair idea about how it's going to end - it's a script based on Somerset Maugham, right? So there ain't gonna be a Hollywood happy ending. You know in your bones someone's bound to die. You're just not sure how things are going to go before they end up there.

Often, this is a pain, and, you might think, even more so when, as here, the character development is so perfectly sculpted that you come to care passionately about the fate of the seemingly ill-matched couple and don't want either of them to die. You hope beyond hope that maybe this time, a serious writer decided to create that happy ending.

But at a certain point, you come to see that the writer wrote the perfect development and is heading for the perfect ending: the necessary, justified and satisfying one that makes the intended point in the most apposite and memorable way.

It's not a film for action fans. It just quietly draws you in and gets you completely absorbed in the story. This is in no small part due to the wonderful acting of Norton and Watts. I've always liked Norton, but as a Brit was astounded by his immaculate English accent and portrayal of period manners. His depiction of the transformation from a rather cold fish into a human being capable of real love is finely crafted. And Watts' performance is just as good as she weaves her way through her own personal metamorphosis from a selfish and superficial young woman into one capable of recognising the goodness of her husband and loving him for it.

There is a crucial turning point in the film when this goodness is drawn to her attention for the first time, upon hearing a casual comment about how he is liked by children. It is perfectly timed and subtly signposted.

This is a film in which to lose yourself, to be drawn into a story and savour its impact. And what is that? For me, it's about the goodness that resides in each one of us, but that we sometimes fail to liberate. We can be regularly in the company of others for a whole lifetime without liberating our own, or perceiving theirs even when they themselves don't. But sometimes, just sometimes, something superficially small and insignificant can lead to mutual, transformative, redemption. I think perhaps that some of those who have failed to appreciate this story may not be old enough to have experienced the truth of which it speaks. Maybe they could usefully revisit it in a decade or two and see what they think then.

The painted veil is only a film, mere drama or perhaps even melodrama, but this essential truth can and does play out in all periods and lifetimes in a thousand different ways. Appreciate it for its fine acting and direction, or its sumptuous cinematography: any number of technical niceties. But indispensable as those are, it is its depiction of truth that most hits home.