If the representation of life aboard the International Space Station presented in Space Station - directed by Toni Myers, presented in the IMAX format and produced by the Lockheed Martin Corporation along with NASA - is to be believed then it's a place where all of mankind’s divisions and conflicts are left far behind and a floating clowning around is the international code of conduct. Now it is presumable that any adult will realise that this is a preposterous proposition to put forward but perhaps the kids might just believe this. So beware, have your wits about you when taking off on this voyage.
The title credits of this short 47 minute documentary promise much; from the dark nebulas of the theatre, free-form parts materialise, merge and construct each credit right there, appearing tantalisingly within grasp of the viewer, then the next credit. This is an immersive spectacle and the motif of parts coming together to construct something with meaning is an excellent and exciting departure point. From here on we are guided by the overstated and cock-sure narration of Tom Cruise around some of the launch sites on Earth, the International Space Station itself and are presented a glimpse of life aboard the space station. Everything is presented with a child like glee and wonder, where there seems to be an echo of ‘all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds’ in most scenes.
We are shown some of the complexities of the construction process and space walking, that all go off without a hitch and are given the impression that this is the life of childhood dreams realised, where the world is a calm spec of awe floating in the vastness of space. All this seems to belie the politics of the situation of what life in space and in small confined environments is like – next to nothing is made of the contrast between the cramped space station and the perceivable openness of space and the psychological impact this may have on the inhabitants of the space station or of the loneliness of being away from earth. As well, none of the criticisms levelled at the International Space Station programme are addressed: primarily any controlled experiment done in space can be done cheaper on Earth. This documentary come out of the top draw of propaganda and seems to services the interests of those who have economic interests in the continuation of the International Space Station programme; namely NASA and its sub contractors.
Although 15 countries participate in the International Space Station programme this is an American show with Russia playing a supporting role in this post Cold War reach for the stars. It’s the Star Spangled Banner that has centre stage. In one scene where the first of the compartments that will eventually comprise the space station are joined, Mr. Cruise makes much ado about how the American astronauts ware Star Spangled Banner socks for the occasion of the virgin journey between joined compartments. This whiff of the nationalisation of space is conveyed with such cute matter-of-factness that it becomes disturbing to watch; an assumed ownership that reeks of toe-jam.
If the spectacles of suspended disbelief are worn for the duration of this documentary, what is presented, politics aside, are some of the steadiest and crispest actual shoots of space, Earth and the habitation of space to date. But no matter how awe inspiring these images may be, this is an unsettling document about assumed ownership, bias, corporate interest and manipulation of childhood wonder.
Sunday, 18 October 2009
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
Ip Man: a heroic account of the man
This film – directed by Wilson Yip and with Donnie Yen in the title role – seems to take as a platform for departure, the old saying ‘why let the truth get in the way of a good story’. Of course this can be a good thing from an entertainment perspective, but take the story with a grain of salt. Ip Man opens in a shroud of mist – presumably cast to encourage suspended disbelief – with credits emerging from then disappearing again. An overture sets an epic template for things to come, the credits are brought to an end by the grand entrance of the films title accompanied by the silhouette of one Muk Yan Jong (the wooden practice dummy used by Wing Chung practitioners).
This is a mythologised account of Ip Man’s time during the second Sino-Japanese War during the 1930’s and 1940’s. At the time Japan’s sun was on the rise and was attempting to gain control of regional territories and resources. The people of China were in turn subjected to harsh treatment from an invading foe that has formally claimed to have had the intention of “racial liberation from white rule” which in turn cost the lives of some 20 million Chinese. The wounds of this are still a delicate issue in regional politics; Japan has still not denounced its motives and actions of that time. Around the personal story of Ip Man this film creates a mythology of one man making a stand which inspires many.
And Ip Man has attributes that are easy to build a myth around. He was the peerless master of his art at the time and he went on to mentor among others a young Bruce Lee. Man’s story is an attractive platform to mobilise a national struggle from. This film fits snugly into the Martial Arts genre where one man by his force of will and skill alone can take on adversity reluctantly and eloquently triumph.
In the film Man leads a somewhat hermetic life of wealth; he gracefully refuses to take on pupils, prefers to spend his days practicing his art then idling away the small hours with family and hobbies. This all changes with the Japanese invasion, Man’s fall from privileged grace to a black pit of self doubt brings on something of an ‘age of reason’ where questions of what is to be done and civic responsibility haunt the demoralised Man. After the atrocities that he witnesses Man is forced to reformat his life. And if anything of the Martial Arts genre is known, then one will know where things go from here.
Most of the characters are cut out and their developments are in the service of the collective mobilising narrative played out in the film. But this doesn’t stop Ip Man being an enjoyable film that allows the space for some genuine reflection, ruminations upon Confucian philosophic enlightenment and its place in Chinese society which is polemically positioned against a portrayal of Japanese unrefinemen and lack of honour. All this is tucked in amidst some very well choreographed and executed fight scenes that lead to an ecstatic yet solitary reflection that practice can make perfect.
Ip Man as a film can be taken two ways, as a straight out Martial Arts bio-pic or as a subtle piece of mainstream propaganda that continues the recent resurgence and reintroduction of Confucian ideas into Chinese culture that have since the dawn of the Peoples Republic been exiled. So go along for a ride but don’t get taken for a ride.
This is a mythologised account of Ip Man’s time during the second Sino-Japanese War during the 1930’s and 1940’s. At the time Japan’s sun was on the rise and was attempting to gain control of regional territories and resources. The people of China were in turn subjected to harsh treatment from an invading foe that has formally claimed to have had the intention of “racial liberation from white rule” which in turn cost the lives of some 20 million Chinese. The wounds of this are still a delicate issue in regional politics; Japan has still not denounced its motives and actions of that time. Around the personal story of Ip Man this film creates a mythology of one man making a stand which inspires many.
And Ip Man has attributes that are easy to build a myth around. He was the peerless master of his art at the time and he went on to mentor among others a young Bruce Lee. Man’s story is an attractive platform to mobilise a national struggle from. This film fits snugly into the Martial Arts genre where one man by his force of will and skill alone can take on adversity reluctantly and eloquently triumph.
In the film Man leads a somewhat hermetic life of wealth; he gracefully refuses to take on pupils, prefers to spend his days practicing his art then idling away the small hours with family and hobbies. This all changes with the Japanese invasion, Man’s fall from privileged grace to a black pit of self doubt brings on something of an ‘age of reason’ where questions of what is to be done and civic responsibility haunt the demoralised Man. After the atrocities that he witnesses Man is forced to reformat his life. And if anything of the Martial Arts genre is known, then one will know where things go from here.
Most of the characters are cut out and their developments are in the service of the collective mobilising narrative played out in the film. But this doesn’t stop Ip Man being an enjoyable film that allows the space for some genuine reflection, ruminations upon Confucian philosophic enlightenment and its place in Chinese society which is polemically positioned against a portrayal of Japanese unrefinemen and lack of honour. All this is tucked in amidst some very well choreographed and executed fight scenes that lead to an ecstatic yet solitary reflection that practice can make perfect.
Ip Man as a film can be taken two ways, as a straight out Martial Arts bio-pic or as a subtle piece of mainstream propaganda that continues the recent resurgence and reintroduction of Confucian ideas into Chinese culture that have since the dawn of the Peoples Republic been exiled. So go along for a ride but don’t get taken for a ride.
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
Going solo
The trailer for The Soloist – directed by Joe Wright – has being playing in theatres for the best part of a year now. Initially the idea of some moralising film about the normality and acceptability of individuals that are classified as abnormal struck a cord that was slightly trite and could possibly play out like a bunch of platitudes pushing acceptability and inclusiveness. But any good marketing scheme will get you to bite the bait and a years worth of trailer viewing seemed to justify actually viewing this film.
The Soloist touches upon quite a few issues; life in big urban environments, mental illnesses, dashed hopes of youth, the diminishing prominence of broadsheet journalism, tales from skid row and friendship. But a central theme is about people and their journey to a friendship and friendships restorative qualities. These qualities are not the sort that makes everything better, this film doesn’t take that rose tinted view of friendship but more the view that friendship can help ease the burden of our lives and help bring us out of ourselves and back into the world. The Soloist centres on the relationship that develops between Nathaniel Ayers (Jamie Foxx) and Steve Lopez (Robert Downey Jr.), the former a down on his luck musician and the later a journalist trying to pull his life together.
Foxx’s turn as the paranoid schizophrenic Nathaniel is understated and doesn’t try and shove abnormality in our face. When we first meet Nathaniel, and this is also when Lopez first meets him, his violin playing is swept in by a soft blowing wind. His playing is eloquent but constrained like a bird with clipped wings and when he speaks his conversation leads from one subject matter to another on a quick turn of a signifier that is pregnant and overloaded with meanings. This is the conversation of not a crazy man – although the film does make it clear that Nathaniel is tormented by distracting voices – but one who struggles to keep to a charted narrative flow. One can imagine Deleuze and Guattari nodding with approval to this schizo-analytical depiction of a schizophrenic individual. But Nathaniel’s talent as a musician is never in doubt; it is indeed the catalyst of inspiration for Lopez.
Lopez form this chance meeting is inspired to probe the back story of Nathaniel and find out how such a talented man can end up marooned in the tangled and thorny nest of Los Angeles skid row. Lopez is a populist writer and knows when he has struck gold and after Nathaniel’s hard luck story strikes a favourable cord with his readership Lopez decides to keep up reporting on the developments in Nathaniel’s life. This may seem cynical and opportunist, but Lopez does need stories to write, deadlines to meet and newspapers to sell: something of a reality of the economy. Through his exploration he is exposed to and does a small cartography of Los Angeles skid row, where sadly 90,000 homeless people live in squalid and over crowded conditions. It is here on skid row that Nathaniel and Lopez really touch each others lives and a bond starts to develop that is restorative.
There is deft direction from Wright, who it seems is shaping up to becoming a fine director. The film takes in many ideas whilst remaining focused on the two leads and the development of their relationship. Wright repeatedly shows Nathaniel’s fingers on the fingerboard of his instruments, dexterously moving around, drawing out a note, teetering on a precarious edge and searching for the next note. This dance of Nathaniel fingers is like the way we move through life, looking for our next move to continue the song of our lives. It’s on this note that Wright presents us with overhead shots of the L.A freeway system and the tangled confusion that it presents. As for Nathaniel, he is stuck in this confusing transportation confluence where his playing is his only solace. While our other lost soul Lopez, played with a warming delicacy by Downey, has a house in the hills but lives alone, has yet to unpack his boxes and settled into his new abode; his loneliness punctuated by the ‘no new messages’ update from his answering machine as he crashes into a makeshift bed after spending his day in hospital.
There is a telling scene that kicks off the second movement of the film. Nathaniel and Lopez are alone in the Disney Concert Hall with only the orchestra in front of them and they’re there to listen to the orchestra practice. As the conductor standing in front of the camera conjures up the music the camera moves past his shoulder and zooms in on the two men seated back in the hall. It is from this moment that the relationship that Lopez and Nathaniel have started to forge is tested. The film is littered with small touches, such as Lopez playing with his key, slapping on a beat up hat and Nathaniel’s feminisation of his cell or the personalisation of his cloths that open the characters and develop them into ordinary people from the city of Los Angeles.
And this is a story from Los Angeles and the trials that that particular city throws at its inhabitants. The film ends on a touching note where the camera pulls back to reveal the distance that Nathaniel and Lopez have travelled. The Soloist is most certainly a film with flaws, but they are only part of the films sum and this film does have a level headed and mature character that is captivating.
The Soloist touches upon quite a few issues; life in big urban environments, mental illnesses, dashed hopes of youth, the diminishing prominence of broadsheet journalism, tales from skid row and friendship. But a central theme is about people and their journey to a friendship and friendships restorative qualities. These qualities are not the sort that makes everything better, this film doesn’t take that rose tinted view of friendship but more the view that friendship can help ease the burden of our lives and help bring us out of ourselves and back into the world. The Soloist centres on the relationship that develops between Nathaniel Ayers (Jamie Foxx) and Steve Lopez (Robert Downey Jr.), the former a down on his luck musician and the later a journalist trying to pull his life together.
Foxx’s turn as the paranoid schizophrenic Nathaniel is understated and doesn’t try and shove abnormality in our face. When we first meet Nathaniel, and this is also when Lopez first meets him, his violin playing is swept in by a soft blowing wind. His playing is eloquent but constrained like a bird with clipped wings and when he speaks his conversation leads from one subject matter to another on a quick turn of a signifier that is pregnant and overloaded with meanings. This is the conversation of not a crazy man – although the film does make it clear that Nathaniel is tormented by distracting voices – but one who struggles to keep to a charted narrative flow. One can imagine Deleuze and Guattari nodding with approval to this schizo-analytical depiction of a schizophrenic individual. But Nathaniel’s talent as a musician is never in doubt; it is indeed the catalyst of inspiration for Lopez.
Lopez form this chance meeting is inspired to probe the back story of Nathaniel and find out how such a talented man can end up marooned in the tangled and thorny nest of Los Angeles skid row. Lopez is a populist writer and knows when he has struck gold and after Nathaniel’s hard luck story strikes a favourable cord with his readership Lopez decides to keep up reporting on the developments in Nathaniel’s life. This may seem cynical and opportunist, but Lopez does need stories to write, deadlines to meet and newspapers to sell: something of a reality of the economy. Through his exploration he is exposed to and does a small cartography of Los Angeles skid row, where sadly 90,000 homeless people live in squalid and over crowded conditions. It is here on skid row that Nathaniel and Lopez really touch each others lives and a bond starts to develop that is restorative.
There is deft direction from Wright, who it seems is shaping up to becoming a fine director. The film takes in many ideas whilst remaining focused on the two leads and the development of their relationship. Wright repeatedly shows Nathaniel’s fingers on the fingerboard of his instruments, dexterously moving around, drawing out a note, teetering on a precarious edge and searching for the next note. This dance of Nathaniel fingers is like the way we move through life, looking for our next move to continue the song of our lives. It’s on this note that Wright presents us with overhead shots of the L.A freeway system and the tangled confusion that it presents. As for Nathaniel, he is stuck in this confusing transportation confluence where his playing is his only solace. While our other lost soul Lopez, played with a warming delicacy by Downey, has a house in the hills but lives alone, has yet to unpack his boxes and settled into his new abode; his loneliness punctuated by the ‘no new messages’ update from his answering machine as he crashes into a makeshift bed after spending his day in hospital.
There is a telling scene that kicks off the second movement of the film. Nathaniel and Lopez are alone in the Disney Concert Hall with only the orchestra in front of them and they’re there to listen to the orchestra practice. As the conductor standing in front of the camera conjures up the music the camera moves past his shoulder and zooms in on the two men seated back in the hall. It is from this moment that the relationship that Lopez and Nathaniel have started to forge is tested. The film is littered with small touches, such as Lopez playing with his key, slapping on a beat up hat and Nathaniel’s feminisation of his cell or the personalisation of his cloths that open the characters and develop them into ordinary people from the city of Los Angeles.
And this is a story from Los Angeles and the trials that that particular city throws at its inhabitants. The film ends on a touching note where the camera pulls back to reveal the distance that Nathaniel and Lopez have travelled. The Soloist is most certainly a film with flaws, but they are only part of the films sum and this film does have a level headed and mature character that is captivating.
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