The Wayward Cloud

Tsai Ming-Liang, 2005

Over the past decade Chinese language film has seen a renaissance, with an increasing number of films seeing worldwide distribution and critical success. The most famous director to have emerged is Taiwanese Oscar winner Ang Lee, who has touched upon increasingly controversial and taboo subjects in his films culminating in the most recent film to hail from his native land, Lust, Caution, a film which gained notoriety through it’s explicit sex scenes. One director who has enjoyed massive success in Taiwan but has seen significantly less attention abroad is Tsai Ming-Liang, a director who like Ang Lee has continued to approach taboo subjects in an increasingly graphic manner, with arguably his best work so far being The Wayward Cloud.
 
The Wayward Cloud continues the story of the characters of Hsiao-Kang (Lee Kang-Sheng) and Shiang-Chyi (Chen Shiang-Chyi) from Ming-Liang’s previous film What Time is it There. Set in the Taiwanese city of Kaohsiung, the story chronicles the couples relationship during a massive heat wave that has in turn caused a water shortage, leading the government to issue news bulletins suggest that citizens hydrate themselves by drinking the juice contained within the watermelons that appear to be available in abundance.

These melons become the recurring visual motif in the film, repeatedly being employed for a variety of scenes. There is a large musical sequence in which the streets of the city are filled with umbrellas featuring a watermelon print, in another scene the river flowing through the city becomes mysteriously filled with watermelons and there is of course the ever present glasses of watermelon juice being drank by their characters. As the film is primarily free of dialogue, filmed using long takes and largely static shots, the brightly coloured fruit helps to create a visually arresting Mise-en-scène and their often unexplained presence adding to the surreal fantasy of the film. The watermelons also give way to many of the films more comic scenes, such as when a woman who has been washed in watermelon juice realises she is covered in ants and is forced to strip nude in a crowded elevator. 
 There most unusual deployment comes however during many of the films graphic sex scenes, including the opening ten minutes in which two characters have sex whilst the woman holds one half of a sliced watermelon between her legs. Once the contents from inside the melon are all but gone, the empty shell is then placed on the mans head for the continuation of the scene. This fetishization of food is most prominent in when it is directly linked with sex in this manner but can bee seen throughout all the film, with the inclusion of numerous shots of things such as lingering close ups of noodles crackling as sauce is poured onto them.

 
Perhaps most interesting is the lack of dialogue in the film. Despite the focus of the film being on the relationship between Hsiao-Kang and Shiang-Chyi, barely a word is spoken between the central characters, with Hsiao-Kang failing to utter a single line of dialogue throughout the whole film, with the only time we hear his voice being during the musical sequences. One particular musical number occurs when he sneaks onto the roof of his apartment block to bath in it’s water tank, here he sings of his desire to fall in love. Whilst he is only capable of expressing himself physically through his sex scenes with Shiang-Chyi these interludes give the viewer an insight into the feelings of the characters, and gives the film the emotional core that the static, silent approach taken throughout the rest of the film cannot deliver.
 
These sequences are unique in that by exposing the characters inner desires they serve a purpose outside of simply offering the entertainment of the fantastical dance sequences in the musicals Hollywood has to offer. As China continues to grow in it’s stature so too will it’s film industry, and with it’s newly granted freedoms it’s filmmakers will hopefully continue to push the envelope of what is acceptable in cinema, creating ever more experimental and controversial films.
words by pete bond.

Made in Britain

Alan Clarke, 1982

The conversion of stage plays to television and film has been a long standing transition, ranging from Reginald Rose's Twelve Angry Men to Anthony Shaffer's Sleuth. This alteration of mediums has had many successes, most notably with independent dramas, creating an intimacy and intensity that exists both on stage and screen. From 1956-mid 80's, British television was host to a new form of social-realist style drama labelled the 'television play', whose roots where embedded in the theatre, and were adapted into kitchen sink realism, mostly depicting social and political issues forming around working class families. Play for Today was an anthology series that transmitted some of the most important British programmes ever created, and introduced audiences to some of today's most established directors, such as Ken Loach, Mike Leigh and Alan Clarke. 


In 1982, Clarke directed Made in Britain, his next feature following the highly controversial Scum. The film follows a 16 year old, white power skinhead, Trevor, played by Tim Roth in his acting début, on a self-destructive, downward spiral through the judical system, with his constant confrontation of authoritative figures, set against the backdrop of Thatcher's Britain. After a series of court trials, Trevor is sent by his social worker, Harry, to an Assessment Centre under the belief that he can reform. His time spent in the centre is spent assaulting staff, sniffing glue, and hijacking cars amongst other such acts. Totally undermining stereotyping of the skinhead culture as mindless hooligans, Trevor presents himself as a coherent and intelligent character, brainwashed into a xenophobic mindset, bitter at a world that rejects his views, and obnoxious to the guidance of his social workers. 

Much like Archer in Scum and Bexy in The Firm Trevor is a character most typical of Alan Clarke's work; a smart young man, suppressed by authority with a belief that he can fight the system. Behind his belligerence and hostility, there are moments of clarity, and self-awareness, unmasking his hard outer shell to unveil a confused, lonely individual, making it frustrating for those trying to help and rehabilitate him. During his time in the rehabilitation centre, Trevor befriends a black offender, Errol, who accompanies him on his unconscientious activities, stealing cars, defecating on their assessment records, and even on racially motivated attacks. It's the power and ferocity of Roth's character that enables a pliable young black boy to follow the same mind set as a white power skinhead. Trevor's attitude toward Errol is condescending and patronizing, conscious of his own intelligence and eventually uncaring in his attitude towards his unlikely accomplice.

With his discovery of the Stedicam prior to the filming of Made in Britain, and his notoriety for being impatient whilst arranging and producing difficult tracking shots, Clarke uses a mass amount of kinetic energy and fluency with in his camera-work, with each shot following Trevor around each of his endeavours, adding intensity and realism, and forming an almost cinéma vérité style feel to the film. Chris Menges' grim cinematography brilliantly sucks the life from the film, delivering a harsh, gritty portrayal of a Thatcher-esque London, themes that seep into his other work, such as Local Hero, Kes and The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada. 

Filmed during the same era that This Is England is set, Clarke's Made in Britain runs many parallels to Shane Meadow's 2006 independent drama, with the two movies featuring key actors in their debut roles, nationalist and racist themes, and both films showing the struggle of the Labouring class, in a time of tense social unrest, with mass employment, IRA attacks on mainland Britain, The Fawklands Conflict, and riots taking place nationwide prior to the miner's strikes of 1984/85. Where This Is England deals more with the reintroduction of an offender into society, contrasting dark and light elements of childhood, Made in Britain shows the eventual incarceration of the offender, with only the options of conformity, or internment. With an abrupt end to the movie, the audience is left to assume the latter.
words by danny walker.

Best Film of 2010

Pete’s Choice- Enter the Void

Gaspar Noé, 2010

Gaspar Noé’s first feature in eight years was met with decidedly mixed reviews upon its initial release, with a large portion of these being negative. Critics accused the film of being overly self-indulgent, pretentious, and unnecessarily graphic both in its portrayal of violence and of sex. What they failed to credit it with is just how much it accomplishes with it’s aesthetic, structure and experimental approach.
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The film is shot entirely in the first person, from the perspective of Tokyo drug dealer Oscar (Nathaniel Brown), with the only cuts in the otherwise fluid camerawork occuring when he blinks. Shot dead during a drugs raid, his soul proceeds to ascend from his body and begin flying over Tokyo, revisiting elements of his past before facing reincarnation.
 
Despite referencing the Tibetan Book of the Dead, on which Oscar‘s path to resurrection is based, the trip his soul embarks on is not supposed to be real, simply his final drug induced hallucination as he reflects on the life he is leaving behind. Therefore the Tokyo his soul flies through is every bit as bright, colourful, and sometimes scary, as it is would be experienced under the effect of hallucinogenics. With this Noé brings to the screen a representation of psychedelic drugs more accurate and visually mesmerizing than anyone before him.
 Noé cites Stanley Kubrick as one of his main influences, particularly 2001: A Space Odyssey. Here it shares both the grand scope of its narrative, attempting to condense the whole of Oscar's life experience into a two and a half hour running time just as he did the history of mankind, as well as it’s fantastic cinematography and framing. It’s important to note that 2001 was similarly divisive of opinion on it’s initial release, only finding the acclaim it deserved as time passed, hopefully this will prove to be the case for Enter the Void also.

Dan’s Choice- I'm Still Here

Casey Affleck, 2010

One of the most commercially unsuccesful, and serverly overlooked movies of this year has been the Casey Affleck directed mockumentary I'm Still Here, which follows Joaquin Phoenix on his transition from recently-retired actor, to hip-hop artist, and exposing the dark side of the star's personal life. In many ways, Phoenix is the perfect candidate for a film documenting his supposed breakdown, with his upbringing in the religious cult the Children of God, the death of his brother River Phoenix, and his rehabilitation for alcholism in 2005.

The movie can be easily compared to the films of Christopher Guest, such as Best In Show and This Is Spinal Tap, using similar awkward and embarrasing situations and docu-style filming, with the camera stalking 'Jo-pho' as he embarks on his rap career, issuing demos to an underwhelmed Sean 'Diddy' Combs, binging coke and prostitution and being defecated on by his maltreated assistant.

I'm Still Here is the performance of Phoenix's career, and a showcase in method acting, with him lending over two years of his life to his character, devotion that hasn't been seen since Vincent D'Onofrio's mesmerizing portrayal of Gomer Pyle in Full Metal Jacket, or De Niro in Raging Bull. With Affleck's announcement of its fraudulence soon after it's release, I'm Still Here was largely disregarded by critics and audiences alike, dismissing the film as self-indulgent and narcissistic, but in truth, it is alot more than that, a journey into the psychosis of a lost and lonely individual. Whilst the film may have flopped in theatres, the place it will gather momentum on is dvd and blu-ray, and the movie is foreseeable to gain a major cult following.

Slacker

Richard Linklater, 1991

The Oxford definition of a Slacker reads: a young person (especially in the 1990s) of a subculture characterized by apathy and aimlessness. Whereas previous generations had chosen to express their dissent from the attitudes and beliefs of their parents by becoming increasingly radicalised and vocal, Generation X took the wholly different approach of manifesting their disillusionment not by trying to change the system, but by simply refusing to be part of it. Cultural phenomenon’s such as Beavis and Butthead, Nirvana and filmmakers such as Kevin Smith would serve as the spokespeople of this generation, the defining work of this period was to be supplied by Richard Linklater though in the form of Slacker.
 
Richard Linklater’s second feature after the largely unseen 1988 film It’s Impossible to Learn to Plow by Reading Books (an extra on the Criterion version of Slacker) is an episodic look at the lives of the youth inhabiting Austin, Texas. The format of the film sees the camera fluidly following one set of people whilst they talk, before another set of characters pass and we begin to follow them and their discussion instead. The conversations themselves are the focus of the film, their subject matter varies but they accurately display the slacker ethos, characters discuss philosophy, conspiracy theories and authors such as Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy displaying both their education and intelligence. However, whenever the question of what they’re doing with their lives is raised they all respond similarly, stating they are currently unemployed and listing their interests as activities such as sleeping and watching television. The high brow conversations they hold are contrasted with their total lack of motivation, they have all the knowledge and intelligence necessary to succeed, they just don’t want to. Their viewpoint can be seen as a result of many of the events they discuss as having witnessed in real life or the news- car accidents, assassinations, a man being shot by the police, all traumatic events whose occurrence they could never anticipate or prevent regardless of what choices in life they make.

The film doesn’t shy away from questioning the attitudes of it’s inhabitants, in one particular scene there is discussion on the merits of travelling abroad with the decision reached that there is no point as you ‘might as well have watched it on TV’. Shortly after this conclusion is reached, a pair of older characters cross paths with them and the camera suddenly switches to follow them. Although the viewer enters their conversation halfway through the aged woman is describing a scene abroad so vividly that she could only have witnessed it first hand, purposely contrasting the two of them could only be to show that real life experience is still more significant and worthwhile than the youth of Austin would believe. Although Linklater’s preoccupation with slacker culture in both this and his later film Dazed and Confused would suggest he agrees with their worldview (he even cameos as one of the lost youths of the film in the films opening scene) moments such as this make you question whether he does truly agree or just fascinated with this culture of apathy.
 

The film acts as the 90’s equivalent of a Godard film with it’s experimental use of tracking shots and meandering coffee shop conversations, it could also be closely compared to the films of Woody Allen in this with it’s discussions of the meanings of love, life and death. Along with the films such as Sex, Lies and Videotape this was one of the films that set in motion the chain of events that would lead to the revival of independent cinema in the 90’s and see filmmakers such as Quentin Tarantino become the most prominent directors of the decade. As with Josh Harris of We Live in Public fame, it also foresees the ever growing dependence of society on living lives virtually, wanting to live their lives via a television set in the same way people have chosen to exist through the internet who’s rise would begin at this time. Although the lesser known of the two, it is a great counterpart to Dazed and Confused and definitely worth much wider attention.
words by pete bond.

Straight to Hell

Alex Cox, 1987

A year after The Clash announced an indefinite hiatus, singer/guitarist Joe Strummer made an attempt to redefine his career, and cross over into the world of acting, starring in Alex Cox’s third feature length movie after the critically acclaimed Sid and Nancy. The film centres around three hit men, who, after an erroneous job, hold up a bank, then seek refuge in a small Mexican village, populated by coffee-addicted psychopaths. The film was a by product of a failed Nicaraguan concert tour, which after being cancelled left a multitude of musicians out of work for a short amount of time. In place of this, Cox assembled a hurried script, a disused location in Almería, Spain, with four weeks of shooting, the purpose being to cast the artists in a low-budget homage to his favourite genre; the Western.

In turn, Straight to Hell transpires to be a movie of two very different aspects, the first being the direction and cinematography, which, in keeping with Cox’s previous work such as Repo Man, is highly idiosyncratic, reflecting the ethos and influence of the late 70's/early 80's punk movement. Cox merges this with further influence from directors such as Luis Buñuel, Akira Kurosawa, and most notably Sergio Leone; in fact, in one scene there is a clear homage to Once Upon a Time in the West, as a wheezing harmonica plays during a standoff, echoing Ennio Morricone's haunting score. The second aspect of the movie is what proves to be its downfall, as Cox’s use of non-actors and poor scripting override any degree of positivity the movie might have. This really is a case of style over substance, and Cox’s off-beat direction, is let down by terrible dialogue and irritating characters, one example of which being Courtney Love's character ‘Velma’, a heavily pregnant, underage love-interest of Sy Richardson's ‘Norwood’, who screeches her way through the script, mimicking Cloe Webb's character in Sid and Nancy. Her performance is excruciating to watch, think ‘DJ Ruby Rhod’ in Luc Besson's The Fifth Element. However Richardson’s performance as Norwood is the exception of the piece, as his righteous persona and sharp style brings to mind Samuel L. Jackson's role as ‘Jules Winnfield’ in Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction, predating it by seven years.

Straight to Hell could be labelled a surrealist or absurdist comedy, constantly using non-sequiturs, with statements and events having no relation to previous ones, which gives the movie an unpredictable quality, for example, in one scene, Sy Richardson’s character dons a pink shower cap in the build up to a duel, for no apparent reason. Other humorous aspects of the movie appear in bad taste, almost becoming dark and sadistic in their use, such as the abuse and eventual death of a young hot dog vendor, and the shooting of his dog earlier in the film. Whereas in other directors hands, this use of ludicrous and bizarre humour could be used to their advantage (for example Terry Gilliam’s Brazil) Cox’s twist of preconceptions comes across as unoriginal and non-intelligent. 

The movie itself seems to exist purely on the basis to exploit the audience, capitalizing on the cult devotees that follow the artists in the film, such as Elvis Costello, The Pogues and even Strummer himself being the main attraction, the title of the movie being named after his 1982 single, from the album Combat Rock. Beyond the amateur performances weighing Straight To Hell down, there is a decent movie trying to get out. Cox obviously has a good artistic scope, and a range of respectable influence, borrowing styles from the likes of John Ford, shooting on location, and using wide shots of desolate terrain, composing asymmetrical frames and using the depth of field to his advantage, with the placement of characters and objects contributing to the impression of the depth. His mix of striking and ludicrous imagery is strangely reminiscent of the work of Alejandro Jodorowsky, such as El Topo or The Holy Mountain.

Alex Cox released his next movie Walker in December 1987. The film was a commercial failure, ending all involvements with Hollywood Studios, and effectively blacklisting him. With no work left for him in feature films, Cox next found work 5 years later with Mexican crime-drama EL Patrullero. In 1996, Cox was employed by producer Stephen Nemeth to write and direct an adaptation of Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, his first creditable project in over nine years, but after creative disputes with not only Nemeth but Thompson himself, he was kicked out of production (the film later being taken over by Terry Gilliam). Cox self proclaims himself to be a ‘cult director’ and a ‘radical filmmaker’, in fact the only true cult movie he has produced is Repo Man, which is retains popularity with film lovers because of its originality and ability to distance itself from standard conventions, unlike Straight to Hell, who’s cult appeal appears preconceived, as to appeal to fans of the musicians involved.

The Clash sang in 1980 “Death or glory, becomes just another story”. While there is death and bullets, Straight to Hell lacks any glory, and is easily forgotten in the pantheon of great Westerns, such as The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, and The Wild Bunch.
words by danny walker.

Naked Lunch

David Cronenberg, 1991

The adaptation of books to film is as old as cinema itself, stretching as far back as the early experiments of pioneers such as George Méliès, who would make his own filmic versions of novels such as 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and fairy tales such as Cinderella over a hundred years ago. Primarily the purpose of the adaptation is simply to transpose the descriptions of events, character and dialogue from the page and onto the screen changing as little as possible so as not upset your core audience (those who have read the novel). However, this approach is dependent on the source text possessing a linear narrative. When the author has taken a more post-modern approach, the director must employ other techniques to ensure the creation of a successful film. Naked Lunch is one such example of this. 


The film is based on William Burroughs novel of the same name, a novel which ignores a traditional approach to story telling in favour of employing each chapter to act as a short story, these chapters are united by nothing more than the occasional recurring characters and a series of common themes and concerns (primarily drug addiction and homosexuality). Juxtaposed together these chapters can be seen to be doing more than simply telling the tale of a characters passage through a fictional world, but as attempting to create a fuller picture of the nightmarish world that Burrough’s characters are inhabiting.

 
Films rarely succeed however when they completely break free of the confines of an act structure, although many books can be described as ‘plot less’ there are few examples of films that have faced commercial or critical success when there is no forward narrative present (Last Year in Marienbad being the only exception that comes to mind). Cronenberg therefore takes certain elements from the book, such as the alien like ‘Mugwumps’ that produce their own highly addictive secretions, and the ‘black meat’( used metaphorically to represent methadone) along with various characters such as Doctor Benway (Roy Scheider) and places them around the story of William Lee (Peter Weller). William Lee was Burrough’s pen name on his first novel Junky and the story draws largely on biographical material from Burrough’s own life. Like his fictional alter ego Burroughs worked as a bug exterminator in New York, he accidentally shot his wife Joan (played in the film by Judy Davis) through the head during a drunken game of ‘William-tell’ and would later retire to the ‘International zone’ (or Interzone) of Tangier where he would send correspondence to his friend Allen Ginsberg that would later be placed together and form Naked Lunch. The more surreal elements of the book are attributed in the film to Lee’s drug addiction, firstly to ‘bug powder’ and then the substitute ‘ the black meat’ (Burroughs was an opiate addict for most of his life). The more surreal elements of the plot are treated as hallucinations, which he then chronicles to form his book.

This approach works well to give Burrough’s text a form and structure necessary for the screen, it is not a betrayal of the novels experimental approach in that by putting on display the creative process used to forge the original source material, is post-modern and experimental itself. In the 90’s many films would see release that worked on a similar level, from the same year as Naked Lunch there is for example Steven Soderbergh’s Kafka, focusing on another author living through the experiences that would become his fiction. Later in the decade there would also be Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which also dealt with the influence of hard drugs on the authors writing style. Fellini’s 8 ½ can be seen as the only film to precede it in creating a work of fiction centred around the work’s conception, a source which Naked Lunch surely must have drawn upon (indeed it‘s eccentric cast of characters feel like a more downbeat version of Fellini‘s own).
 
Burroughs had always hoped to bring Naked Lunch to the screen, and had made forays into film himself shortly following the books publication. Working with Anthony Balch on such short films as The Cut Ups in 1966, he attempted to apply techniques he had perfected in the literary world to the screen (in this example, his cut up technique). Working closely together with Cronenberg, Burroughs manages to translate his world onto the screen successfully, whilst Cronenberg is allowed to further build on themes touched upon his other works. There is his usual use of body horror and the dangers of scientific experimentation, but primarily it can be seen as treating literature in the same way television was portrayed in Videodrome, like a drug for both those who create and consume it.
words by pete bond.

Two Lane Blacktop

Monte Hellman, 1971

It’s 1971, a year or so after Easy Rider was released and a turning point in American history.  A new decade, in which the youth of America were becoming more and more disillusioned. The hippie dream was collapsing, the Nixon years were ahead, and Two-Lane Blacktop was dropped into theaters.  Originally meant to capitalize on the success of Easy Rider, the two films do share similarities.  Both follow two men on the road through America, and both are very bleak in their portrayal of that America.

Easy Rider was, however, more overtly political, with its allegorical allusions to ‘Nam and was born, to some extent, out of the sensationalist Roger Corman AIP biker movies,  which were exploitative flicks to pull the youth audience in.  Although Blacktop was marketed in that same excessive style, the trailer exclaiming “The far-out world of the high speed scene!” it seems more limited in its appeal, with its lack of violence and sex.  The film certainly begins like this, kick starting with a high speed drag race at night, broken up by police sirens and within the first 5 minutes, a disregard for society & the law is established.

While this disregard for authority is common in the exploitation genre, it was a general feeling with the counterculture of the sixties, but the seventies replaced the activism with an antipathy, a sense of futility, people had burnt-out, culminating in the events at Altamont freeway and captured in the books by Hunter S. Thompson (notably Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas).  Blacktop is very much a product of this era, in terms of capturing the zeitgeist, but also as a historical document.  The film transports the viewer to that specific time and place, the roads of America before the inter-state highway was built, the snippets of background music, the out of the way roadside cafes and bars and the cars.  But it also has a timelessness, which is part of what makes it a cult classic.

In terms of style, the film draws upon the New Hollywood, as well as a European influence, with stark cinematography and lack of conventional narrative.  In fact, there is a distinct lack of anything in the film and events feel totally arbitrary, for example, after fleeing the aforementioned scene, the two men, known only as the Driver & the Mechanic - played by singer-songwriter James Taylor and Beach Boys drummer Dennis Wilson (in his only acting role), respectively - drift across the highways and route 66.  After stopping off a bar, the two men return to find a girl (again known only as the Girl, played by waif-like Laurie Bird) in their car.  They drive off without asking any questions.  The film doesn’t offer any explanations either for why the girl gets in the car or where the two men are from, they are just there. They just exist, and for no real purpose.  This nihilistic attitude could be seen as reflective of the times, or a deeper existential crisis inherent in the road movie.  The road represents freedom from the restrictions of society, a place for outsiders to roam or to search for something, but it is also a trapping as what happens when the end of the road is reached?  It is probably fitting (although tragic) that Laurie Bird, who appeared in only 3 films, committed suicide at the age of 25.

All the characters in Blacktop are outsiders, perpetually journeying and driving, running on empty with no real goal. The film drifts as the characters do, with its lack of narrative, structure and unresolved events.  All this futility and meaningless is best seen in James Taylor’s constant stony expression and cold eyes as well as the final scene, which again is reminiscent of Easy Rider.  The last frame is definitely iconic and telling enough that it sticks in the mind and draws this nihilistic feeling together, without resolving anything.

Another character the two men come across is known as G.T.O. due to the car he drives.  Played by Warren Oates, he is by far the most entertaining character in the film, picking up hitchhikers - such as Harry Dean Stanton in an early appearance as a gay cowboy - in his flashy yellow car. He is talkative, constantly telling amusing, fabricated stories about himself and is definitely a contrast with the other two men, who barely talk to one another.  They can only communicate through the car, the 55 Chevy. There is an obsession with cars, the talking about cars, almost a fetishization of cars, or to coin a term, ‘motorsploitation’ and where the film lacks dialogue, it is usually replaced with the sound of roaring car engines.  There is also a homosocial bonding over cars, especially between the Driver and the Mechanic.  This is until the Girl comes between this, but the only way the Driver can express his feelings toward her is through the car (not so much in the penis substitute way, but rather, he and car are linked, are one).  The 55 Chevy is a muscle car, built for one purpose and as is often in the road movie, the male has a bond with his car, the car can be a personification of himself and they both have one purpose and that is to race.  But that purpose is inevitably meaningless and as the film draws to a close, it becomes evident - like Easy Rider before it and Vanishing Point after it - that for the Driver, there is nothing at the end of the road.
words by josh shaw.

The Last Detail

Hal Ashby, 1973

Hal Ashby has always remained a polarizing figure, with a catalogue of films that divide audiences, from Harold and Maude, to The Slugger's Wife. At the culmination of his career, he directed The Last Detail, a comedy/drama, starring Jack Nicholson, with a screenplay written by Robert Towne (Bonnie and Clyde, Chinatown). It follows two swabbies, as they escort a young Randy Quaid to Portsmouth naval prison N.H. Any comparison to previous naval movies (Anchors Aweigh, On The Town), have to be dismissed, as the film, with a backdrop against the Vietnam War, features strong existentialist, and almost nihilistic themes, with characters struggling to come to terms with their assigned roles, and ultimately, life in general.

Nicholson's "Badass" Buddusky, surpasses a strong cast, as a charismatic maximalist, whose objective, above and beyond his assignment, is to provide a no holds barred bon-voyage for Quiads character, 'Meadows'. Otis Young supports, as Nicholson's stony-faced shore-patrol partner "Mule" Mulhall, and remains the voice of reason between the uncontrollable, hurricane "Badass", and the vulnerable 'Meadows'. The movie plays out like a coming-of-age/road movie, with Buddusky and Mulhall taking meadows on a crash-course of manhood, exposing him to drinking, fighting and fucking, and showing him the freedom he’s shortly going to lose.

There's a definite hard edge to the movie, and it walks a fine line between comedy, and becoming a full-blown drama. Michael Chapman's cinematography expertly drains the life out of each frame, abandoning the contrast of gloss and grittiness that is apparent in his other work (Raging Bull, Invasion of the Body Snatchers), and stripping the movie down to a harsh, grim aesthetic, that more than lends itself to the photography of Arthur Fellig's pseudonym ‘Weegee’, and the dark lighting techniques of Gordon Willis. The Last Detail is arguably the definitive Jack Nicholson performance, with him throwing as much magnetism and charm into 'badass', as he does 'Randle Patrick McMurphy' or 'J.J. Gittes'. In fact all performances are perfect, and show Nicholson and Quaid in their prime, before they became typecast and subsided into self-caricature.

The movie itself could be seen as a left-wing metaphor for the Vietnam War: a group of men working for the armed services, being assigned a pointless objective, with no positive outcome. This is unsurprising, considering Hal Ashby's filmography (Coming Home, Harold and Maude) and his outspoken views on the Vietnam conflict. Ultimately this movie remains of it's time, and is a window into the life of desultory blue-collar workers during the cold war, showing the harsh, grim reality of working class life. Ashby was a Hollywood outsider, a rebel against the mainstream, and held a sheer refrain from being pigeonholed into a certain style or genre.’ The Last Detail was him at the pinnacle of his career, with his directorial work gradually declining into obscure films and TV work.

words by danny walker.