Eavesdropping At The Movies

It's Valentine's weekend and we take a romantic trip to The Electric Cinema to see It Happened One Night, Frank Capra's 1934 romantic comedy that is one of only three films to win all Big Five Oscars (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Screenplay). As usual, Mike hasn't seen it before, while José's seen it plenty. Does it hold up? José talks of its democratic appeal, set largely in the American South during the lowest point of the Great Depression and showing people coming together despite hardship, lack of work and even fainting from hunger. We discuss the development of the relationship between Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, including the wisdom of sharing a motel room with a man you just met, the propriety depicted (such as forgoing a lucrative reward, instead only claiming your expenses), and of course, the madness of Alan Hale's singing. Recorded on 17th February 2019.

Achingly romantic and visually rapturous, If Beale Street Could Talk, Barry Jenkins' adaptation of James Baldwin's 1974 novel of the same name, utterly bowls Mike over, while José expresses some reservations about it, despite also finding it enormously impressive. A love story set in New York City in the late 60s/early 70s, the film follows Tish (KiKi Layne) and Fonny (Stephan James) as they fall in love, begin to build a life together, but are threatened with its destruction by a racist cop and a false accusation of rape. The title refers to a street in New Orleans that Baldwin, and subsequently Jenkins, use as a metaphor for the black experience across America, and arguably this is overambitious (if not simply impossible). The universality implied by the title is dissonant with what the film offers, which is much more personal and idiosyncratic. José points out the lack of anger in the film, anger that would be absolutely justified to express given both the general institutional racism the characters face

It's already being portrayed as the film that will undeservedly win Best Picture for its cuddly, comfortable, comedy-drama version of American racism in the Sixties, but do we dissent from that view? Green Book tells the true story of a road trip through the Deep South shared by jazz pianist Doctor Don Shirley (Mahershala Ali) and his Italian-American driver Tony (Viggo Mortensen). Mike immediately seizes upon Tony's inconsistent characterisation, the film using other characters to describe him as deeply racist, but his actual interactions with Shirley consisting of essentially polite microaggressions rather than real malevolence and anger. José also takes issue with the revelation that Shirley is gay, Tony having no problem with it, saying that in his regular job as a bouncer he sees it all the time - the film makes no attempt to explain how he can be entirely understanding and accepting of sexuality while intolerant of skin colour. Mortensen, though, is very characterful, imbuing Tony with entertaining irr

Concluding a trilogy two decades in the making, Glass brings together the characters of 2000's Unbreakable and 2016's Split in an unconventional superhero showdown. We both enjoyed it, though it's a bit of a trifle, but it's enjoyably oddball and features a particularly brilliant performance from James McAvoy. And we appreciate M. Night Shyamalan's direction, staging and camerawork, which, while occasionally a little stilted and 'filmmakery', for want of a better word, is thoughtful and always strives to create interesting and meaningful imagery. The film feels significantly affected by the Marvel Cinematic Universe's influence on comic book movies and their public acceptance; there are things that Glass does, ways it behaves, that are difficult to imagine having made as much sense prior to that series. Indeed, this trilogy is a universe of sorts, with characters from different films being brought together in a shared world. Recorded on 2nd February 2019.

Adam McKay brings the confrontational, fourth-wall-breaking style he employed in The Big Short to a story of lust for power, hidden agendas, opportunism, and as near as makes no difference a coup d'état of the American government, engineered from inside the White House. Christian Bale plays Dick Cheney as he transforms from a brainless layabout into the de facto President of the United States, operating with scary, virtually boundless power to do whatever he wishes. It's energetic, interesting, self-aware, and makes statements and accusations as bold as you're likely to see in mainstream cinema. But it's difficult to trust, says only what you'd like to hear, narrates where there are obvious opportunities to dramatise, and, fundamentally, fails to do what a biopic should: develop and convey an understanding of who its subject is and why. We weren't impressed with much more than the makeup, unfortunately - though it is brilliant makeup. We also have a browse through the Oscar nominations, why not. Recorded on

Gender-bending in turn-of-the-century France, with the true story of Colette, probably the most famous female writer in French history and author, although they were published under her husband's name, of the Claudine stories. With representational interests that give voice and presence to people and lifestyles one might not expect in a period film, and two very good central performances, one sensitive and complex, from Keira Knightley, and the other fabulously charming, Dominic West's, there are things we like. But our overall response is disappointed, the positives dulled by a poor script, some badly developed characters, and direction that allows no metaphor to pass unvocalised. Mike considers it a potentially smart film destroyed by a pointless fear of its audience not getting it; José sees it as the middle-of-the-road cinema it is, for better and worse. It's worth a look in some respects, but we can't claim it's a good film. Recorded on 17th January 2019.

A 1922 Swedish-Danish silent film in the form of a semi-dramatised lecture, we had absolutely no idea what to expect of Häxan, written and directed by Benjamin Christensen. And what a great surprise it was, as we discover an extraordinary, perceptive, original, bold, witty piece of work that details the history of witchcraft, visualises medieval beliefs in wild set-pieces, and draws interesting parallels with modern-day institutionalisation of "hysterical" women. The projection was out of this world, a 2K 2007 restoration by the Swedish Film Institute with unimaginable clarity, sharpness and contrast. It was unbelievable to look at. (Thanks to Holly Cooper for finding the technical details out for us.) And the film is full of images that benefit from the restoration; Bosch-esque dramatisations of Satanic seductions, a Witches' Sabbath, and unholy births of demonic creatures. It was the most expensive silent film to ever emerge from Scandinavia, and it shows. Though neither Mike nor José is an expert on horro

A remarkably lean Jack Nicholson steals a man's identity in an attempt to leave his life behind in The Passenger, Michelangelo Antonioni's existentialist thriller from 1975. Though the film contains many of the raw ingredients of a Bond film or Graham Greene novel - a charismatic leading man, a beautiful European love interest, criminal activity, subterfuge and globetrotting - Antonioni cooks up a deeply atmospheric, contemplative work about identity, dispossession and escape. In the four days between seeing the film at the BFI Southbank and recording the podcast, the film grew in José's estimation, while Mike was captivated by it immediately, commenting on the lucid, imaginative camerawork that brings past and present together in single takes and seems to give the camera a physical presence in the film's world, and considering the displacement of Nicholson's character, a man living between countries and cultures. José, having watched and written on a number of Antonioni's films back in June (links below), e

Something a little different for us today, as we visit the Tate Modern to view Christian Marclay's 24 hour long video art installation, The Clock. It's a looping supercut of clips from film and television that involve clocks, watches, and people telling each other the time, synchronised to the real world. If you watch it at 8:10pm, it's 8:10pm in the film too. Supported by London's White Cube gallery, some 12,000 clips were assiduously located and assembled over three years by Marclay and his team of six researchers to create The Clock, and since its first exhibition in 2010 it's been popping up every now and again. We jumped at the chance to see it. The Clock's scarcity, ambition, and strength of concept have arguably been partially responsible for its uniformly positive reception since 2010. We, however, find plenty to criticise, including a certain imperial flavour to the overwhelmingly Anglo-American choices of source films, not to mention the whiteness that pervades the entire project and lack of imagin

Greek weirdo Yorgos Lanthimos, whose off-kilter thriller The Killing of a Sacred Deer divided and provoked us a year ago, brings us The Favourite, a wild dramatisation of the power games surrounding Queen Anne's bedchamber in the early 18th century. It's his first feature on which neither he nor his usual partner Efthymis Filippou is credited as a writer, and that might account for its liveliness compared to his previous work, which tends to offer significant downtime in which the audience can ponder what it's seeing. The Favourite moves rapidly and fluidly, the shifting dynamics between Olivia Colman's Queen Anne, Rachel Weisz's Lady Marlborough, and Emma Stone's Abigail Hill constantly exciting, with their plans always subject to change depending on who knows what about others. And on top of the intrigue, it's really, really funny. The Favourite offers us a brilliantly cast and even more brilliantly performing female trio, picking on a rare historical moment in which all the most important and influential

Much to Mike's disdain - he throws tantrums about Netflix films - we settled in with a KFC to discuss Alfonso Cuarón's Roma, a semi-autobiographical film about the live-in housekeeper to an upper middle class Mexican family. Carefully composed and inflected with a neorealist aesthetic, it's been making countless year-end lists and is being touted as potentially Netflix's first Best Picture nominee at the Academy Awards, so Mike wasn't allowed to say no. The film is remarkable for depicting modern-day indigenous Mexicans, people to whose existence many outside the Americas might not have ever given any thought. Yalitza Aparicio, Roma's star, is a non-professional actor of Mixtec and Triqui origin, and simply her appearance is interesting, let alone the film's use of Mixtec language (Mike gets this name wrong at first but don't hold it against him) and its development of the indigenous population as lower class workers. We consider the use of black-and-white imagery - José questioning what it brings to the fil

DC's search for a cinematic tone continues to lurch between monochrome gravity and Technicolor frivolity, James Wan's Aquaman firmly occupying the latter end of the spectrum. Although Mike has long been amused at how feeble is the concept of a superhero whose power is fish telepathy, the film has a good sense of humour about itself (even if some of the specific jokes are a little clunky) and hugely enjoyable freedom in its design, the giant seahorses a particular charm. We discuss what's to like and dislike about the film's visual design and action, its message that violence is the least good solution to any problem, the welcome wisdom and calmness brought by Willem Dafoe and Dolph Lundgren (yes, really), and its adaptation of Arthurian legend and how it fits into a recent spate of films and television programmes fascinated with monarchy, bloodlines, divine rights and so on. Jose is overall more reserved than Mike but still announces that he enjoyed himself, and the golden rule holds true: the key to happin

Mary Poppins is back after a mere 54 years since the first film. The kids have grown up, life has grown difficult, and a magical undying supernatural flying nanny is precisely what they need. What they don't need are new ideas. Mary Poppins Returns copies the structure and concepts of the first film almost to the point of parody, today's Disney operating in a world in which people apparently want low-effort, straight-up nostalgia (as their spate of CGI-laden remakes of their animated classics can confirm). However, the film has its charms, in time the songs may become memorable - one can rarely tell on first viewing - and children are sure to love it as previous generations loved the last. Recorded on 29th December 2018.

It's colourful, friendly, packed full of visual energy and wit. It's also light and just a little forgettable, like a straight-to-video movie that's made it onto the big screen. But we had a good time and find lots to praise about Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Recorded on 21st December 2018.

Rachels Weisz and McAdams soar in this delicate, passionate, complex drama of social pressures and forbidden love. Set in the North London Jewish community, Disobedience tells the story of two women whose love for each other is reignited when one returns home following her father's death. Everything is rendered complex, nothing is simple. Weisz's anger at having been cast out of the community, McAdams' subjugation and repression into a way of life she doesn't desire, and Nivola's denial and ambition are all expressed deeply and combine in intelligent and subtle ways. José is spellbound by the depth of feeling from the very beginning; Mike feels the lack of context early on is disappointing, seeing the film's clichés rather than its originalities. And we share a certain reservation as to the film's visual qualities, Mike suggesting the Jewishness of the story is reflected in its understatement, but again there is complexity present in its aesthetic and we appreciate its coherence. We also like the seriousnes

A documentary in the hard-hitting, extraordinary revelations, true-story-you've-never-heard mode, Three Identical Strangers follows three identical triplets, separated at birth, discovering each others' existences at the age of 19. At first a joyous reunion, the story takes dark twists as the triplets and their families investigate the reasons behind their separation. That's all for your summary - we won't spoil the story for you! Suffice it to say, we have severe reservations about the film, and in many respects. José is particularly unimpressed with the storytelling and weak focus - there are significant obstacles that the film has in understanding what happened to these men, obstacles that are no fault of its own; however, the things the film could investigate, such as their life experiences, it shows little interest in pursuing. Mike, more forcefully, takes significant issue with the film's ethics and failure to build a convincing case for most of what it wants to argue. Some of what the film decries is

A surprising, imaginative comedy full of dark twists and scathing observations, Sorry to Bother You fires us up. There's so much going on in it that we love. It builds a forceful critique of modern capitalism, drawing on black stereotypes, animal imagery, and factory cities to develop a thesis of 21st century capitalism as thinly veiled slave labour. Everything is available for commodification and absorption by the establishment; the system is able to tolerate dissent by co-opting it. But there is a vital resistance movement, embodied exceptionally by the coruscating Tessa Thompson, and though the film depicts a deeply unfair world in which power is entrenched, there is plenty of room for hope and joy, even through something as simple as a sigh when confronted with the latest absurdity. The film is a kaleidoscope of ideas, always on its toes, always unpredictable, absolutely restless, and although we feel it lacks a certain visual finesse and overall coherence, the benefits of its madnesses far outweigh thei

Flatpack's Silent Night series continues with a screening, at Birmingham Cathedral, of The Marvellous Mabel Normand, a programme of four silent comedy shorts from the BFI National Archive. Normand was the leading silent comedienne of her day but neither Mike nor José was familiar with her, and the programme provides a great introduction to her work, as not just a star but also a director. We saw Mabel's Blunder (1914), which she directed, Mabel's Dramatic Career (1913), His Trysting Place (1914) and Should Men Walk Home? (1927). Each stars Normand, and alongside her are such names as Mack Sennett, Oliver Hardy, Eugene Pallette and one Charlie Chaplin. José finds himself in thrall to Normand's magnetism and emotional openness, finding her incandescent with screen presence. The nuances she brings to her physical and facial performances, the way she types or jumps out of the way of an onrushing car, light up the screen and make her memorable. Mike, it must be said, is less impressed, suggesting that she doesn

Intriguing, calm, witty, touching. Hirokazu Kore-eda's Shoplifters, winner of the 2018 Palme d'Or, is a modern-day Oliver Twist with real depth of feeling and naturalistic charm. Deceptively simple, it asks big questions of its audience, questions about family, love, loneliness, and how to live a good life. It's largely free of significant plot points - it begins with a very young girl, abused by her parents, being taken in by a motley crew of a family living on the poverty line, but from there takes an approach to story that is driven by character and situation. Everything is rendered complex - on the one hand, the young girl is taken in by a group of rescuers who care for her; on the other, they are kidnapping her. It would be true to say the aren't easy answers to be found, but don't let that fool you into thinking it's a harsh watch. It isn't. There's an impressive lightness of tone, the film refusing to wallow in victimhood, instead focusing on getting on, day to day. And it has a great sense of humour

We argue about a film that neither of us can possibly claim is good, but in which one of us found things to like. Hot on the heels of watching Errol Flynn's Technicolor classic a few weeks ago, we catch the latest telling of the Robin Hood folk tale, fittingly titled Robin Hood, a desaturated, guns and geezers-inflected version that transports us to a somewhat otherworldly, sci-fi-ish version of the medieval Midlands. Church and state are in cahoots, the poor are exploited - and it doesn't look like they have much left to exploit anyway - and with Sherwood Forest nowhere to be seen, the only green thing around is Robin of Loxley. We can both agree that no matter the intention, the film is poorly directed, though José would decry it more than Mike, who tries to look beneath the incoherent camerawork and dull set pieces to find areas of interest, such as the tangible sense of growing revolution and the charming Black Hawk Down version of the Third Crusade, complete with shoulder-mounted arrow bazookas, why not