There's really no excuse for not blogging in the circumstances, is there? On Monday, I'll hopefully be back at the office (that I would ever put "hopefully" in such a sentence), so I'd better get another blog post out there while I still have plenty of time.
The Swedish Film Institute has very sportingly released some films which were recently in cinemas online (though they're not exactly cheap), so I've been able to watch the latest adaptation of Jane Austen's Emma in the comfort of my home. And it was... fine. However, although it did some things better than the 1996 film with Gwyneth Paltrow, I don't think it adds an awful lot to the interpretation of my favourite Austen novel. The actors are good. I enjoyed Josh O'Connor's oily Mr Elton and Bill Nighy's Mr Woodhouse who, though thin enough to creditably think himself an invalid, clearly isn't. It's nice to see Rupert Graves, whose likeable Lestrade is a highlight of the Sherlock series, as an equally likeable Mr Weston, and Johnny Flynn, who was such a good Dobbin, does his best in the thankless role of Mr Knightley. Miranda Hart is an excellent, tender-hearted Miss Bates. But as for the angle from which the novel is approached, it's pretty much the same procedure as in every adaptation.
The film is beautiful to look at, but also stylised, and played as an elegant comedy which doesn't offer much insight into its characters, Emma least of all. From the very first scene, where she "picks" flowers for Miss Taylor at dusk - or rather, a servant picks the flowers she points out while another one holds up a lantern - it's clear that Emma will be portrayed as a spoilt brat. Within these parameters, Anya Taylor-Joy does a good job, and unlike most actresses who have played the role she is actually close to Emma's age. Nevertheless, we have seen this kind of Emma - a conceited little miss who gets her rightful come-uppance - many times before in Emma adaptations. We see little in this film of her more endearing qualities, such as her love for her father. Overall, we are given few "character moments" with Emma or with anyone else. There's a brief scene where Emma practises dancing with Harriet, which shows a glimpse of the real affection between the girls - the film would have benefited by having more moments like that. I also liked the scene where Mrs Goddard's school charges pass Mr Elton in the street, giggling excitedly. It shows some of the context for Elton's belief that he must be the object of any young lady's desire.
As always, the Box Hill incident feels overdone. Taylor-Joy delivers the insulting remark about Miss Bates perfectly - she blurts it out thoughtlessly and is instantly aware that she has said something she shouldn't - but the wording has been changed. Emma's line is less witty and more a case of unabashed rudeness, which makes one wonder why she would be tempted to say it in the first place. The hushed, shocked silence and clear disapproval of everyone present is not believable - the only ones likely to pick up on Emma's faux pas are Emma herself, Miss Bates and the always censorious Mr Knightley. I have to admit, though, that the post-Box Hill scene where Emma tries to make amends to Miss Bates is probably the best I've seen in any adaptation. Emma, here, is dumb-struck, merely handing over a basket of delicacies, but Miss Bates - who realises what she is trying to do - shows that she is forgiven by emphasising the words "but then you are always so very kind". It was the only time during the whole film that I felt truly moved, and shows up the dreadful handling of the Box Hill aftermath in the Paltrow film, where Miss Bates flees Emma's company, as if this good-natured woman were actually capable of holding a grudge.
Perhaps it's because I like the novel so much that I'm so hard to please when it comes to Emma adaptations. I found this one too superficial, but the TV adaptation with Romola Garai, which focused more on the drama and less on the comedy, too gloomy. Plus, I have been known to say that it's ridiculous to wish for a "dark" adaptation of an Austen novel, so what is it that I want?
What I would wish for is an adaptation which sympathises more with Emma. With time, I've come to appreciate the Davies adaptation of Emma more and more, though it's not such a classic as his Pride and Prejudice. The casting was good and the balance between comedy and drama was just about right. But even Davies admitted to hating the main character and playing up her fantasist tendencies in order to make her bearable. Her warmth and wit seem to have passed him by, and in the end Kate Beckinsale's Emma, though engaging, is very much in the spoiled-brat-vein. I despair of ever seeing an Emma adaptation by someone who loves the heroine as much as most of us - adapters included - love Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. Emma's faults are as offensive to modern-day moralists as to Regency ones, perhaps even more so, as they often stem from her feelings of social superiority. I must resign myself to never seeing the bossy, warm-hearted, intelligent girl I like so much in the novel rendered on the small or big screen with complete justice. At least it's a comfort that Austen was fond of her too.
lördag 28 mars 2020
lördag 21 mars 2020
The English Game - a half-hidden Fellowes-scripted half-gem
These are odd times we live in. On Monday, I had a cough and a slight ache in my lungs, which has resulted in me spending the whole week - barring a walk or two - in my flat, avoiding social contacts and watching TV. So, not that different to my usual routine, then, but with less work.
This means I can't complain about lack of blogging material. Putting aside the Maleficent sequel (bonkers) and the Pierce Brosnan Bond films (I do think he's my favourite Bond) for now, let's have a look at a recent Julian Fellowes-penned series. No, not Belgravia, sadly - though I read the book back when it was still an app, so I'm not too impatient - but The English Game.
I don't know if it's just my Netflix feed, but they don't seem to be promoting this series very hard, do they? My Swedish daily, which let me down when it came to Onward, made good by pointing out that this was on, otherwise I might have missed it. Perhaps it's because I mostly watch nerdy series and rom-coms on Netflix. Or else the algorithm thought, much as I myself did: "nah, this villain-ogling female knows zilch about football and cares less, it's probably not for her".
And to be sure, I wasn't too thrilled to hear Fellowes would be writing a miniseries (does it qualify as that? Six episodes?) about the beginnings of football when he should be spending his time finally finishing The Gilded Age. I have to say, though, I enjoyed this series more than I expected. Fellowes has had two co-writers, and they've all done a good job. However, although I'm guessing the writers have given themselves a great deal of poetic licence, reality does seem to come in the way of a good story once or twice.
The series takes place in 1879 England and focuses on two football virtuosos - Arthur Kinnaird, well-to-do captain of the aptly named team the Old Etonians, and Fergus Suter "the shooter", who along with his mate Jimmy Love has perfected the strategy of passing the ball in a neat fashion rather than charging with it from one part of the playing field to the other. Suter and Love have been hired by Walsh, a Northern mill owner, in order to boost his football team of mill hands, Darwen FC. Problem is, it's against the rules to pay football players, so if the gentlemen amateurs who rule the FA Cup committee want to make trouble, they can.
The first episode had me gripped - and, yes, even I was rooting for the mill workers. The series looked as if it was going to be a mix between North and South (Gaskell version, not Orry, George and the crazy villains) and The Four Minute Mile, with a bit of Chariots of Fire thrown in. I thought the story would be about the Old Etonians and Darwen FC competing for the cup - perhaps throughout a couple of years - while Kinnaird and Suter, at first hostile, come to respect each other more with time. And yes, the last bit happened. But halfway through the series, Suter abandons Darwen for Blackburn, another Northern working-class team that pays more. Yes, he needs to help his mother and sister who are brutalised by his father, so it's understandable, but this wasn't the drama I wanted to watch. What do I care about Blackburn, its envious captain and its somewhat wimpy owner Mr Cartwright, who isn't half as endearingly folksy as Walsh? I was invested in Darwen, hang it! I didn't want to see Suter's former team mates glowering at him for a whole episode or two. That's just painful to watch. Give me some thrilling matches!
But there, they can't tamper with history so much that the wrong teams meet up in the final, so we have to swallow that the Darwen folk come round and cheer on Blackburn anyway, because at least it's a Northern team and would be a victory for the workers etc. Hmmm. Not sure I buy it, but if it stops those glowering-at-Suter scenes, OK. At least the Darwen-Blackburn tensions, leading to a riot in a "friendship" game, set up the final argument, where the FA committee threatens to ban Blackburn from playing owing to unsportsmanlike behaviour and general rule-breaking.
One of the strengths of this series is that it takes the concerns of the Old Guard seriously. They're not just a bunch of over-privileged snobs seeking to oust honest working men (who are often better players, too) from "their" game. Arthur's friends are genuinely afraid of the consequences of allowing professional players. This is better explained than in The Four Minute Mile or Chariots of Fire, where as a viewer you just thought the obsession with "gentlemanliness" and amateurism barmy. If players are allowed to be paid, Arthur's pals argue, it would be possible for rich team owners to cherry-pick the best talent, leaving other teams with less money at a loss. Moreover, it would generate bad feeling leading to the kind of violence among fans witnessed at the Darwen-Blackburn game. It's hard to deny that much of what these gents feared has come to pass. Suter and co. have the better arguments and are clearly the future of football, but you do see where the toffs are coming from.
A girl in Class sneeringly referred to Downton Abbey as "white people being nice to each other". I sternly dismissed that remark - I mean, has she met Miss O'Brien? - but Fellowes at his best can set up scenarios where you understand both parties of a quarrel, and they can end up understanding each other too by listening to each other. There's also a refreshing feeling of getting right down to it when discussing some important issue, not hedging around for the sake of drama. Martha, Suter's girlfriend who was made pregnant by Cartwright a few years previously (they were in love, apparently, not just screwing around) is paid a visit by Mrs Cartwright (childless), who has just learned the truth. "She looks just like him", she says, gazing at Martha's daughter. "Like who?" Martha tries, but a look from Mrs Cartwright is enough for her to drop the pretence: "Yes, she does". It's not an easy path, and it doesn't happen right away, but the two women do end up "being nice to each other" in the end - and I, for one, am all for it.
Of villains in the Thomas mould there are none. I don't recall there being any particularly tasty villain in Belgravia either - the baddie was of the caddish persuasion, and I'm not too fond of those - so here's hoping The Gilded Age delivers. When it finally comes.
This means I can't complain about lack of blogging material. Putting aside the Maleficent sequel (bonkers) and the Pierce Brosnan Bond films (I do think he's my favourite Bond) for now, let's have a look at a recent Julian Fellowes-penned series. No, not Belgravia, sadly - though I read the book back when it was still an app, so I'm not too impatient - but The English Game.
I don't know if it's just my Netflix feed, but they don't seem to be promoting this series very hard, do they? My Swedish daily, which let me down when it came to Onward, made good by pointing out that this was on, otherwise I might have missed it. Perhaps it's because I mostly watch nerdy series and rom-coms on Netflix. Or else the algorithm thought, much as I myself did: "nah, this villain-ogling female knows zilch about football and cares less, it's probably not for her".
And to be sure, I wasn't too thrilled to hear Fellowes would be writing a miniseries (does it qualify as that? Six episodes?) about the beginnings of football when he should be spending his time finally finishing The Gilded Age. I have to say, though, I enjoyed this series more than I expected. Fellowes has had two co-writers, and they've all done a good job. However, although I'm guessing the writers have given themselves a great deal of poetic licence, reality does seem to come in the way of a good story once or twice.
The series takes place in 1879 England and focuses on two football virtuosos - Arthur Kinnaird, well-to-do captain of the aptly named team the Old Etonians, and Fergus Suter "the shooter", who along with his mate Jimmy Love has perfected the strategy of passing the ball in a neat fashion rather than charging with it from one part of the playing field to the other. Suter and Love have been hired by Walsh, a Northern mill owner, in order to boost his football team of mill hands, Darwen FC. Problem is, it's against the rules to pay football players, so if the gentlemen amateurs who rule the FA Cup committee want to make trouble, they can.
The first episode had me gripped - and, yes, even I was rooting for the mill workers. The series looked as if it was going to be a mix between North and South (Gaskell version, not Orry, George and the crazy villains) and The Four Minute Mile, with a bit of Chariots of Fire thrown in. I thought the story would be about the Old Etonians and Darwen FC competing for the cup - perhaps throughout a couple of years - while Kinnaird and Suter, at first hostile, come to respect each other more with time. And yes, the last bit happened. But halfway through the series, Suter abandons Darwen for Blackburn, another Northern working-class team that pays more. Yes, he needs to help his mother and sister who are brutalised by his father, so it's understandable, but this wasn't the drama I wanted to watch. What do I care about Blackburn, its envious captain and its somewhat wimpy owner Mr Cartwright, who isn't half as endearingly folksy as Walsh? I was invested in Darwen, hang it! I didn't want to see Suter's former team mates glowering at him for a whole episode or two. That's just painful to watch. Give me some thrilling matches!
But there, they can't tamper with history so much that the wrong teams meet up in the final, so we have to swallow that the Darwen folk come round and cheer on Blackburn anyway, because at least it's a Northern team and would be a victory for the workers etc. Hmmm. Not sure I buy it, but if it stops those glowering-at-Suter scenes, OK. At least the Darwen-Blackburn tensions, leading to a riot in a "friendship" game, set up the final argument, where the FA committee threatens to ban Blackburn from playing owing to unsportsmanlike behaviour and general rule-breaking.
One of the strengths of this series is that it takes the concerns of the Old Guard seriously. They're not just a bunch of over-privileged snobs seeking to oust honest working men (who are often better players, too) from "their" game. Arthur's friends are genuinely afraid of the consequences of allowing professional players. This is better explained than in The Four Minute Mile or Chariots of Fire, where as a viewer you just thought the obsession with "gentlemanliness" and amateurism barmy. If players are allowed to be paid, Arthur's pals argue, it would be possible for rich team owners to cherry-pick the best talent, leaving other teams with less money at a loss. Moreover, it would generate bad feeling leading to the kind of violence among fans witnessed at the Darwen-Blackburn game. It's hard to deny that much of what these gents feared has come to pass. Suter and co. have the better arguments and are clearly the future of football, but you do see where the toffs are coming from.
A girl in Class sneeringly referred to Downton Abbey as "white people being nice to each other". I sternly dismissed that remark - I mean, has she met Miss O'Brien? - but Fellowes at his best can set up scenarios where you understand both parties of a quarrel, and they can end up understanding each other too by listening to each other. There's also a refreshing feeling of getting right down to it when discussing some important issue, not hedging around for the sake of drama. Martha, Suter's girlfriend who was made pregnant by Cartwright a few years previously (they were in love, apparently, not just screwing around) is paid a visit by Mrs Cartwright (childless), who has just learned the truth. "She looks just like him", she says, gazing at Martha's daughter. "Like who?" Martha tries, but a look from Mrs Cartwright is enough for her to drop the pretence: "Yes, she does". It's not an easy path, and it doesn't happen right away, but the two women do end up "being nice to each other" in the end - and I, for one, am all for it.
Of villains in the Thomas mould there are none. I don't recall there being any particularly tasty villain in Belgravia either - the baddie was of the caddish persuasion, and I'm not too fond of those - so here's hoping The Gilded Age delivers. When it finally comes.
onsdag 11 mars 2020
Onward isn't perfect - but it's hard to dislike
Monday evening, feeling worn out and irritable, I nevertheless went to the cinema to see the latest Pixar film Onward. I left it in a far better frame of mind, moved and more kindly disposed towards my fellow men. For me, then, the film was a success. And yet... I understand the general feeling I'm getting from reviews, that Onward is better than one would have expected from the trailers but not quite as good as we all hoped a Pixar film with original content (as opposed to "just another sequel") would be.
I had a lot of time for the central relationship between two brothers, and loved the scene towards the end where Ian - the younger brother who's grown up without his father - realises just how much his older brother Barley has meant to him throughout his life. That was the part that made me tear up, and the reviewers I've seen (mostly on Youtube, to be honest - my daily didn't deign to review the film) liked it too. However, while some of them thought that this strong emotional core of the film was enough to make it good, others didn't. And I can see where they're coming from, which is why it's so hard to come to a clear-cut conclusion about the film. Has Pixar chosen the right path in their quest for a solid future as one of the star brands of animated film, or have they strayed a too far down the Path of Peril - or rather a little too far along the safe, unadventurous freeway?
One problem with the film is that the world it's set in doesn't feel as fresh and original as was perhaps intended. Basically, it's a land full of creatures from folklore and fantasy where technology has replaced magic, so they live lives practically identical to us humans in the modern-day world. Cue the gags from the trailer where mermaids lounge in paddling pools, garden gnomes do actual gardening - including using a lawn-mower - unicorns are down-at-heel critters fighting like raccoons over people's trash and trolls collect the toll for the freeway going over the bridge. Though I did like that last joke, the main conceit is not very engaging. Most humorous use of fantasy tropes relies on contrasting the inherent pomposity of the genre with everyday life, and it has been done in funnier ways than here. That's another of the film's problems - few of its jokes actually land. Though it's light-hearted, it's not one of the funnier Pixar films.
The main story goes as follows: the two elf brothers Ian and Barley grow up with their mother, the father having died early, when Barley was still small and before Ian was born. Ian is the insecure, brainy but slightly whiny high-school kid who wants to fit in but doesn't know how etc. Big brother Barley is obsessed with the old days of magic and with a roleplay game that purports to be based on "historical facts" (those in the know identify it as very similar indeed to Dungeons and Dragons). He is cheerfully chaotic and embarrasses his little brother with his fantasies and gung-ho attitude. On Ian's 16th birthday, it's revealed that their dad left a magic staff and a spell that would bring him back to life for 24 hours. Though Barley is the magic enthusiast, it's Ian who has the magic talent, but he only manages to bring back the dad's legs before the staff breaks. The brothers have to repair it with "the Phoenix stone" before the 24 hours are done so they can meet their dad. The legs have to go along on the ride. As Barley put it in the trailer, "totally a quest".
I can nit-pick other things in the film that didn't quite work for me, along with the fantasy-figures-in-modern-day set-up and the lack of good jokes. The build-up feels too long - I was reminded of Moana/Vaiana, which I've watched three times now, each time drumming my fingers until finally Maui turns up. Also, though having the dad's legs tag along makes for a touching moment or two, one joke where I actually laughed and a way to get out of a trap, for the most part they just feel superfluous and weird. Nevertheless, I was charmed, mostly because I really liked Barley. As a fellow fantasist, I sympathised with him, and what clinched it for me was his unfeigned joy over the fact that his little brother has the magic gift. This lack of envy makes up for a lot, including a few moments where you feel he's not taking their quest quite seriously enough.
Another thing in the film's favour, for my part, was that it didn't ride its messages too hard. I've had problems with Pixar's messages in the past, not least the ones in the Toy Story franchise. Here, the film came perilously close to the "technology is bad" agenda Pixar's been hinting at a few times before. It's funny to see magic, often depicted in fiction as the solution which appears easy but can come with unforeseen costs, hailed as a craft which requires skill and dedication and leads to greater self-knowledge, whereas technology is the quick fix. Nevertheless, in the end, the fantasy creatures don't go back to roving in the wild and relying blindly on mages. They continue their comfortable modern lives - they're just a little bit more true to their pixie/centaur/manticore selves and view magic as a welcome bonus. Which is fair enough.
To sum up, Onward may not be a classic, but as one who has always admired rather than loved Pixar's films, I'm fine with that. It's sweet, extremely family-friendly and, contrary to some rumours, really not excessively "woke" at all. If I'm half as pleased with Pixar's next offering Soul, I'll consider myself lucky. Still no villain, though.
I had a lot of time for the central relationship between two brothers, and loved the scene towards the end where Ian - the younger brother who's grown up without his father - realises just how much his older brother Barley has meant to him throughout his life. That was the part that made me tear up, and the reviewers I've seen (mostly on Youtube, to be honest - my daily didn't deign to review the film) liked it too. However, while some of them thought that this strong emotional core of the film was enough to make it good, others didn't. And I can see where they're coming from, which is why it's so hard to come to a clear-cut conclusion about the film. Has Pixar chosen the right path in their quest for a solid future as one of the star brands of animated film, or have they strayed a too far down the Path of Peril - or rather a little too far along the safe, unadventurous freeway?
One problem with the film is that the world it's set in doesn't feel as fresh and original as was perhaps intended. Basically, it's a land full of creatures from folklore and fantasy where technology has replaced magic, so they live lives practically identical to us humans in the modern-day world. Cue the gags from the trailer where mermaids lounge in paddling pools, garden gnomes do actual gardening - including using a lawn-mower - unicorns are down-at-heel critters fighting like raccoons over people's trash and trolls collect the toll for the freeway going over the bridge. Though I did like that last joke, the main conceit is not very engaging. Most humorous use of fantasy tropes relies on contrasting the inherent pomposity of the genre with everyday life, and it has been done in funnier ways than here. That's another of the film's problems - few of its jokes actually land. Though it's light-hearted, it's not one of the funnier Pixar films.
The main story goes as follows: the two elf brothers Ian and Barley grow up with their mother, the father having died early, when Barley was still small and before Ian was born. Ian is the insecure, brainy but slightly whiny high-school kid who wants to fit in but doesn't know how etc. Big brother Barley is obsessed with the old days of magic and with a roleplay game that purports to be based on "historical facts" (those in the know identify it as very similar indeed to Dungeons and Dragons). He is cheerfully chaotic and embarrasses his little brother with his fantasies and gung-ho attitude. On Ian's 16th birthday, it's revealed that their dad left a magic staff and a spell that would bring him back to life for 24 hours. Though Barley is the magic enthusiast, it's Ian who has the magic talent, but he only manages to bring back the dad's legs before the staff breaks. The brothers have to repair it with "the Phoenix stone" before the 24 hours are done so they can meet their dad. The legs have to go along on the ride. As Barley put it in the trailer, "totally a quest".
I can nit-pick other things in the film that didn't quite work for me, along with the fantasy-figures-in-modern-day set-up and the lack of good jokes. The build-up feels too long - I was reminded of Moana/Vaiana, which I've watched three times now, each time drumming my fingers until finally Maui turns up. Also, though having the dad's legs tag along makes for a touching moment or two, one joke where I actually laughed and a way to get out of a trap, for the most part they just feel superfluous and weird. Nevertheless, I was charmed, mostly because I really liked Barley. As a fellow fantasist, I sympathised with him, and what clinched it for me was his unfeigned joy over the fact that his little brother has the magic gift. This lack of envy makes up for a lot, including a few moments where you feel he's not taking their quest quite seriously enough.
Another thing in the film's favour, for my part, was that it didn't ride its messages too hard. I've had problems with Pixar's messages in the past, not least the ones in the Toy Story franchise. Here, the film came perilously close to the "technology is bad" agenda Pixar's been hinting at a few times before. It's funny to see magic, often depicted in fiction as the solution which appears easy but can come with unforeseen costs, hailed as a craft which requires skill and dedication and leads to greater self-knowledge, whereas technology is the quick fix. Nevertheless, in the end, the fantasy creatures don't go back to roving in the wild and relying blindly on mages. They continue their comfortable modern lives - they're just a little bit more true to their pixie/centaur/manticore selves and view magic as a welcome bonus. Which is fair enough.
To sum up, Onward may not be a classic, but as one who has always admired rather than loved Pixar's films, I'm fine with that. It's sweet, extremely family-friendly and, contrary to some rumours, really not excessively "woke" at all. If I'm half as pleased with Pixar's next offering Soul, I'll consider myself lucky. Still no villain, though.
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