On balance, Borut’s charming narration, the background footage, and the remarkable nature of the undertaking itself mean that this is a film worth seeing, even if it fails to match the ambition of the man at its centre.

Big River Man

Directed by John Maringouin

He’s an overweight 53-year-old man who used to be a professional gambler. He now teaches flamenco guitar for a living. He regularly drinks and drives, eats horse burgers, and spends his days in underground caves learning how to think like an animal. He is also ‘the world’s last superhero.’ Meet Martin Strel, aka Big River Man.

Strel is hardly typical of most heroes, but as far as documentary subjects go, he’s a fine choice. Having taught himself to swim at the age of 6, Martin made the decision to become a marathon swimmer in his mid-30s, and has since set numerous world records. You wouldn’t know it to look at him. His gut is large, and his thirst seemingly unquenchable – Strel drinks two bottles of wine a day whilst swimming, and much more besides when he’s on dry land. But over his aquatic career he has garnered a large, worldwide following, becoming a superstar in his native Slovenia and far beyond. Having already swum the full-length of the Danube, Mississippi, and Yangtze rivers, in February 2007, Martin decided to tackle the largest and most dangerous of them all: the Amazon.

John Maringouin’s film follows the undertaking through several months of preparation, the swim itself, and the after-effects on those involved. In the first act we are introduced to this most eccentric of lead characters. We see Martin as he undergoes rigorous physical training (swimming more than 5 hours per day), spends his summer in a nearby underground cavern (believing that if he can think like an animal, he won’t be eaten by one on his journey), and goes about his business as a national treasure in his homeland (appearing in films, glad-handing dignitaries, and judging beauty pageants).

Narrated by Strel’s son Borut, it is fascinating to see this human fish out of water, and to try and piece together the motivation behind his incredible endurance feats. Previously Strel has stated that his swims are undertaken in order to raise awareness of the dangers of water pollution (the Yangtze, which he swam in 2004, is the world’s most polluted river), whilst the Amazon expedition is to focus attention on the destruction of the rainforest. Nobel as these intentions are, and sincere as Strel may be about them, they do at times seem incongruous with the man at large; even Borut seems unsure of exactly how his father’s exertions will have the desired effect. But regardless, the footage is intimate and revealing, and these opening scenes are the film’s strongest.

The swim itself is as grueling as one would expect – and then some. Once again we are kept involved in the action, and the physical and emotional tolls which affect not only Strel himself but those around him are well presented. The vast river stretches out like a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, and the dangers to anyone foolish enough to take a dip are clear to see: crocodiles, piranhas – even the candiru fish which, as Borut delightfully explains, ‘swims up your penis. And if it does – no more penises!’ Fortunately none of these things interfere with this incredible display of human endurance, but the exertions do eventually have a severe effect on Strel’s mental and physical wellbeing.

Such a feat is deserving of widespread attention, and its capturing on film will play a part in this. For the most part Maringouin does a good job in his presentation, and the picture itself has no major flaws – although it’s not without its issues. Maringouin seems intent on imposing a ‘Heart of Darkness’ atmosphere onto proceedings which, whatever parallels one might attempt to draw, always feels contrived – as do some of his directorial flourishes. The footage of the swim itself at times lapses into unnecessarily repetitive territory and fails to hold one’s attention, and – perhaps not coincidentally – the running time feels slightly excessive. On balance, Borut’s charming narration, the background footage, and the remarkable nature of the undertaking itself mean that this is a film worth seeing, even if it fails to match the ambition of the man at its centre.

- Joel Gregory

Directed by Lone Scherfig

Let’s start with the bad. Carey Mulligan’s Jenny is just slightly too self-assured and forthright for a sixteen year old. The lurch from light-hearted to a darker tone midway through the film is marginally clumsy. And the running time is about 5 minutes too long: the ending grates somewhat and fractionally undermines that which has gone before it. And…that’s about it. An Education is a film in which so much is of the highest order, from the acting to the screenplay to the direction, that these really are its only flaws.

The screenplay itself comes from the pen of Nick Hornby, adapting an autobiographical essay by journalist Lynn Barber (the full memoir, of the same name, was not published until June of this year). He does a wonderful job of crafting rounded, likeable characters who are all true to life yet eminently watchable – something of a fine balancing act when ‘unspectacular’ true stories such as this are transposed onto the big screen. The dialogue is punchy and potent without being overly contrived, and audience investment is drawn subtly and steadily yet without manifest manipulation. One is invited to care, to go along for the ride, but not coerced – although the abundant quality on display pleasingly makes the choice redundant.

The ride on which we are taken is far from a thrills-and-spills roller-coaster and more a Sunday drive down country lanes. The setting is Twickenham, 1961, and we are immediately introduced to16 year old Jenny (Mulligan) and her parents, sat around the dining room table in their modest, suburban, family home. Jenny, aspiring Oxford applicant, reluctant cellist, and wannabe Parisian longs to be a world away from the stifling repression that she believes has overrun those around her: family, friends, teachers, and which threatens to do likewise to her. Academic prowess is her escape route, and once amongst the Dreaming Spires she intends to do nothing but read Camus, smoke Gauloises and listen to Juliette Greco. Or activities to that effect.

Yet an early, and easier, route to this cultured lifestyle opens up in the form of the dapper David (Peter Sarsgaard). With his maroon Bristol, sharp suits and well-connected friends he whisks Jenny away for a whirlwind taster of that which she so desires. Ravel concerts, auction houses, trendy cafés – even a trip to the city of her dreams – it all comes thick and fast, and opens our young girl’s eyes. David’s interest in Jenny is never covert nor seedy, nor without reciprocation, and the relationship that blossoms between the two plays out tenderly, believably, and at a good pace. The narrative hook, as one might suspect, is that David – in more ways than one – is not exactly the man he presents himself to be. Jenny finds herself at a crossroads (although it’s more like a T-junction really…), and the usually forthright and cocksure teen begins to waver.

All of these ups and downs and ins and outs are laid on by a stellar cast, and the performances are, to a man, excellent. Carey Mulligan tackles a complex and demanding role with assuredness and distinction: this is a coming-out party which puts most others to shame, and an Oscar-nod is surely in the offing. Peter Sarsgaard is perfectly cast as David, offering the easy charm and smooth sophistication, offset by an unsettling undertone, which comes so naturally to him. His British accent may waver once or twice but overall it is solid, and he makes the role his own. The support cast more than holds its own: Olivia Williams and Emma Thompson (no surprise) are first-rate as Jenny’s teachers, and Dominic Cooper likewise as David’s ‘chum’ and ‘business partner’. Yet the show is, if not stolen then certainly intermittently borrowed, by Alfred Molina. An actor of the highest order for over 30 years now his performance should come as no surprise, yet it is still notably magnificent. As Jenny’s protective and demanding father he pitches his portrayal perfectly, giving the character depth, complexity and compassion. One scene in particular, in which he talks to a distraught Jenny through her bedroom door, is utterly superb. Academy take note.

In addition to such a high-quality cast, Lone Scherfig has excelled behind the camera. The direction and screenplay combine and compliment each other as they ideally should, and both the narrative and setting are handled with subtlety and sagacity. Nothing is overplayed or taken to a caricatured extreme – an easy temptation in some regards, particularly with regard to setting and certain elements of characterisation. The pacing is good, the palette inconspicuous but effective, and the intelligent humour in Hornby’s writing (of which there is plenty) is well portrayed.

An Education is an excellent film. It is a well-told, engaging, and charming story that asks just enough pertinent questions to lift if above being one girl’s tale, but never in such a way that focus is lost or the core content diluted. From top to bottom this is an effort that passes with flying colours.

- Joel Gregory

]]> http://www.soundonsight.org/an-education/feed/ 0 http://www.soundonsight.org/clouzot%e2%80%99s-inferno/ http://www.soundonsight.org/clouzot%e2%80%99s-inferno/#comments Sat, 07 Nov 2009 06:26:16 +0000 Joel http://www.soundonsight.org/?p=15599 [Read the Rest]]]> Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Inferno

Directed by Serge Bromberg and Ruxandra Medrea

Serge Bromberg’s much-lauded documentary, on limited UK release from today, tells the story of revered French director Henri-Georges Clouzot’s ill-fated attempt to create his cinematic opus: L’Enfer (‘Inferno’ or, more commonly, ‘Hell’). In 1964, Clouzot, working with an unlimited budget, a handpicked crew, and total creative autonomy, set out on the project which would live up to its name before long.

Clouzot made his reputation as a thriller director: his 1950s films The Wages of Fearand Diabolique earned him the sobriquet ‘the French Hitchcock’ and brought him great acclaim both in his native country as well as internationally. But it was L’Enfer that Clouzot hoped would create a lasting legacy; not just for him as a filmmaker but in its transformation of cinema itself. Shifts in the boundaries of visual effects, storytelling, psychological exposition – all of these things were part of Clouzot’s ambition.

The film itself was to tell of a man, Marcel (Serge Reggiani), and his wife Odette (Romy Schneider), proprietors of a hotel in rural France. Told in flashback (the opening scene has Marcel standing over Odette’s dead body, razor blade in hand), the story recounts their once idyllic relationship’s demise at the hands of Marcel’s irrepressible jealousy. As his wife cavorts with the locals and revels in a carefree existence, Marcel becomes more and more convinced of her infidelity. Yet with proof only of his deteriorating mental state, his neuroses become as much about self-doubt as paranoia, which serves only to debilitate him further until (we must assume) he comes over all Othello.

Bromberg’s documentary investigates why the project was abandoned only three weeks into filming, and combines a frank retelling by a variety of people close to the project (both cast and crew) with the never-before-seen rushes and screen tests. The piece is well put together, and while L’Enfer’s ultimate collapse is no unique story – the director’s obsessive nature alienated his cast, including lead man Regianni, who quit the project – the details behind its grand ambition are absorbing.

The weeks of screen tests, visual experimentation and make-up analysis all give an insight into Clouzot’s meticulous approach to the endeavour. A desire to infuse the film with a synaesthetic quality led to research into kinetic art, colour distortion and layered audio. The groundbreaking work put in by the director and his team hints towards how remarkable the piece would have been, and makes one rueful of its collapse.

It is clear from the outset that the neurotic nature of L’Enfer’s leading man is a trait that Clouzot shared, and crew members recount his insomnia (he would wake them in the middle of the night if he thought of something to discuss), his distain of not working on Sundays, and his insistence on repeating even the most gruelling of takes over and over for no discernable reason. Combine this with the insular location – filming took place in and around a secluded hotel in the South of France – and it is not difficult to see how it all unravelled. Clouzot’s repeated clashes with (and overworking of) Serge Regianni led to his walking off set, and during the search for a replacement Clouzot suffered a heart attack. ‘Enfer’ it had become, and the project was shut down.

At times Bromberg’s documentary dwells excessively on certain details, and one feels it would benefit from a reduced running length. Little background is given on Clouzot himself, detail which would surely enhance the viewer’s ability to understand the breakdowns which his project underwent, and the narration often feels unnecessary or obtrusive. Yet overall this is a successful and engaging presentation of a cinematic story which deserved to be told. Those interviewed talk with pleasing honesty and the footage gives compelling insight into an esteemed director’s process. Even the reconstructions work surprisingly well. This is not a film that will attract a large audience, nor was that ever intended. But if one thinks there’s even a chance they might find it interesting, they most certainly will.

- Joel Gregory