Come and See (1985)

(30/6/16)

“It replicates the endless void of human nature”

Elem Klimov’s rendition of the Byelorussian massacre, which took place during the Second World War, probably renders as one of the most terrifyingly accurate portrayals of war ever brought to film. Various movie outlets rightly deem “Come and See” a periodic war drama, but this suffix can also go alongside the categories of horror or psychological; terms which are ultimately spurred with an invoking sense of trauma and disturbance for the viewer. Spielberg was often noted to present screenings of the film prior to the releases of both Schindler’s List (1993) and Saving Private Ryan (1998), two grandiose Hollywood war movies which ruptured Western cinema as it merited the exposition of brutality and somewhat pointlessness of war – Spielberg certainly monopolized the ‘anti-war’ genre ever since his film-making inception, as did Kubrick for the latter part of the 20th century. “Come and See” certainly compliments those qualities, if not more, and also likens the attitudes of Apocalypse Now (1979) and Full Metal Jacket (1987). Apocalypse Now exemplifies the unbearable destruction of nature and the gradual dehumanization of man through the experiences of Captain Willard (Martin Sheen’s character), whereas Full Metal Jacket focuses on the study of man and their activities, morals, and ethos’. “Come and See” admires and tinkers with such ideas throughout the picture, redeeming certain traits and characteristics that mainstream Western cinema filmmakers wouldn’t even dare to experiment with.

“Come and See” follows the story of protagonists Flyora and Glasha, two young Belorussians who are conscripted to fight for the Soviet partisans after Flyora finds an old rifle near his home. After the reluctance to undertake such a dangerous role, the harsh and forceful demeanor of the partisans subject Flyora to fight for them, henceforth beginning our journey into 1943 Byelorussia. It is from this moment onward where we are seared into a first-hand account of the Nazi German occupation of Byelorussia, depicting the journey of Flyora’s disillusionment with the world and his life, deterring into bouts of denial and near insanity. His surge of combat stress derives from the lack of preparation for war and witnessing the genocide of his own people. It is essentially an Eastern European holocaust. The feature also somewhat delves into instances of pseudo-hallucinations, as if what we are seeing isn’t a reality; just a bad trip, a nightmare. This can be considered when Flyora and Glasha first meet, as well as Flyora’s eventual spasm into denial as a result from stressful events.

The use of cinematography also glorifies this state of verging insanity by using the constant motif of head-shots, which provides us thought to analyse the well-being of our characters. Klimov can certainly leash out his actors and use them to their full extent. For example, Aleksei Kravchenko, the actor who portrays Flyora, often pours resemblance to zombie-like figures as a result from how horrific the environment is. The camera plays in an uneasy and unpredictable manner, noticeably in pivotal moments such as the infamous bog scene, which disturbingly seems everlasting. Coupled with this sort of scene is the use of music, or lack of. Despite not having a concrete score, the music, created mostly by Oleg Yanchenko, presents itself in an unshaped manner, relying itself on horror-esque soundscapes, drones, and ambience. This bodes resonance to the works of Krysztof Penderecki, who is credited for some of the music in The Shining (1980), often spurring up unconventional and avant-garde methods.

It is the fusion of frightening acting, apprehensive cinematography and haunting music which creates this podium of sheer and utter horror of a movie. If I could provide advice to aspiring horror writers or filmmakers, it would be without any hesitation to recommend war films for inspiration as they warrant themselves as perfect examples to study the human mind and condition. “Come and See” does not romanticize war. It doesn’t have a hero, nor a narrative. It replicates the endless void of human nature and questions why such things happen to the innocent and even the barbaric. An interesting moment occurs during a scene which gestures character study and the psychology of distressed humans. It panders on a metaphor, as if certain things should never happen and you wish you could just roll back time to change the course of history. Techniques like this should be relished in today’s cinema as it bears open discussion and thought. I’ve always said James Cameron made films that people want to see, and that Stanley Kubrick made films that people need to see. “Come and See” is without a doubt a film that fits into the latter, regardless of your preference when it comes to subject matter. It’s meant to replicate a feeling of subordination of the human existence – we are merely insignificant beings that are willing to harm one another for our own personal gains and motives during the minuscule time we have on Earth.

“Come and See” wraps itself up to be one of the most defining movies I have seen as of yet. It isn’t politically correct, nor is it afraid to delve into a terrifying context. War films will continue to be born, but “Come and See” will detain itself to be the mother of such things. Soviet cinema is certainly an interesting one as it proves itself different to the Western medium – Tarkovsky, for instance, certainly reinforces this claim. Klimnov also justifies the exuberance of it.

Matthew Alfrey

Bone Tomahawk (2015)

(3/3/16)

“Bone Tomahawk grants itself vigorously on subject matter, music, acting, and locations”

Alas, it’s once again another time where I get the opportunity to dissect and become discursive about a genre which is particularly growing on me: the western. For a genre which primarily died out commercially after the 1960’s, having the entitlement of seeing the occasional modern western here and there is certainly a privilege in this day and age. I cherish them – I adore the likes of 3:10 to Yuma (2007) and somewhat The Homesman (2014). Half of today’s cinema goers have little understanding about spaghetti, supernatural, or neo-westerns, and even with Tarantino more or less at the helm of current westerns, that precedent probably won’t change for a while. What makes Bone Tomahawk give that extra curve is that is infuses a deep horror element to it, spiraling from other horror-westerns such as Ravenous (1999) and the more recent The Hateful Eight (2015), which you can see my review of here.

The very premise of Bone Tomahawk entails the story of a group of captives who are abducted in the small yet seemingly innocent town of Bright Hope. Mystery surrounds as to who specifically captured them and why, and consequently, a rescue mission is considered by the town’s sheriff Franklin Hunt (Kurt Russell) along with three others. A feral arrow perched in the town’s jail the following morning is linked to a troglodyte clan, essentially cave dwellers who feast on humans. After speculating that their encampment could be the “Valley of the Starving Man”, the riders set off. As they embark on an approximate 5 day ride, some scenes are swept with those gorgeous riding shots, which focus on the environments and hallowing silhouettes. For it’s limited budget, Bone Tomahawk capitalizes more on the scenery than scene. But that doesn’t mean it’s bereft of substance. Along the way, various tropes and decadents encounter the frontier men as they dwell into the deep West, often encountering raiders and thieves. We begin to understand the surreal lives of our rescuers and are bestowed their situations.

Like the director Steve McQueen, Bone Tomahawk’s subtle use of music produces a distilling yet effective contrast to the audio-visual relationship. Bone chilling strings are enacted as the frontiers ride into the unexpected. As touched upon, for a movie that had an eagerly low budget of just under $2 million, almost everything is crafted solidly within it’s means, particularly the music. However, there were a few traits in the movie I personally thought staggered, such as the editing and lack of tension, primarily as it’s a horror. It felt far too clunky during the culminating action scenes and choreographically feeble, which subsequently zipped me out of the immersion. Granted, only so much could be done due to obvious reasons, but it could have been eluded if certain techniques were adopted (such as fast-paced editing when necessary or perhaps, although already great, more music to build that real sense of scare). Some ideas put forth were just too lacklustre to comprehend. One thing that is commendable is the hair, makeup, and the all round prosthetic element of the picture. It’s absolutely fantastic to which how some stuff was conceived considering it’s a movie which includes festering cannibals.

It’s also impressive to see Russell once again somewhat make a comeback to acting with a surprisingly high turnout of three roles in 2015, two of those being westerns. As always it’s so refreshing to see such an enigmatic actor, but ultimately it was Patrick Wilson whose performance swept me away in this picture. He is the one who goes through the most endurance and emotion throughout, and he executes it wondrously. Admittedly I have only seen him in a few other roles and know very little about his filmography, but his acting achievements in Bone Tomahawk has certainly merited my respect for him. He, in my opinion, is the apex of this feature.

Regardless to say, not much more can be said about Bone Tomahawk. It grants itself vigorously on subject matter, music, acting, and locations, and although it stumbles on a few directorial and editorial faults, Bone Tomahawk would still be a firm recommendation for the likes of independent features and western types. As we have already scuttled over the picture’s achieving budget and it’s limitations, I must once again profess my admiration for how everything ceded together so prudently. Films like this are to express aspirations for those who wish to forefront the movie production process and what can be done in certain circumstances. Bravo, S. Craig Zahler!

Matthew Alfrey

Bridge of Spies (2015)

(14/12/15)

“Everything is so patient, gifted with great writing, casting, music, and of course cinematography”

Once again Spielberg’s new epic Bridge of Spies has relished the essence of cinematic brilliance, as did his preceding film Lincoln (2012) – which, gradually, has culminated into being one of my favourite movies from the multi-Oscar winning director. I profoundly had an awe of immeasurable satisfaction when watching Bridge of Spies, as Spielberg’s most critically acclaimed movies have tended to be historical dramas which primarily dominate around mid-20th century wartime. Bridge of Spies depicts the true Cold War story of James Donovan, an insurance-based lawyer, who has been assigned the defense attorney of Rudolf Abel, a potential Soviet spy living within the US. Donovan played an instrumental role during the Nuremberg trials 11 years prior to his commitment to the Abel case, therefore warranting him to delve back into war-based jurisdictions. But unlike the expected trial against Abel seeming partial to the US’ favour, given the strong adversarial politics between the two major world superpowers, Donovan aims to give him a right to fair trial as a result of the Constitution’s Fourth Amendment – this subsequently amounts to deep consequences for Donovan from his own front and family. Meanwhile over in Communist-ruled East Germany and the Soviet Union, two Americans are arrested, which gives Donovan the opportunity for an exchange of Abel for the ‘POWs’. Bridge of Spies, however, is not necessarily a courtroom drama, as this only amounts in the first 1/3rd of the movie or so; the driving factor is primarily the exchange mission between the captors, which climaxes on the infamous Glienicke Bridge.

One thing I can truly express my admiration for is how Spielberg – as well as the Coen brothers and Matt Charman (of which I am proud of declaring the fact that he was born in my hometown) – can conceive dialogue. It is so prudently full of colour, texture and coherence. We also see this again with the likes of Schindler’s List (1993) and Catch Me If You Can (2002). A couple of highlighted moments justify this statement including a scene in which the brilliant Mark Rylance, playing Abel, discusses to Hanks’ character James Donovan as to how he reminds him of a man he knew in his younger days who would keep getting up despite being brutally beaten over and over – a “standing man”. Expanding onto this, another scene expresses CIA agent Hoffman’s reluctance with Hanks to give Abel protection and legal respect. Hanks replies “What makes us both Americans?”. While a very wordy film, the wordiness is worth it for a grand and reassuring payoff.

But without great dialogue would also present feeble acting. This film is far from that. Undoubtedly, the most significant performance derives from the utterly chilling Mark Rylance, whose career I first pondered upon following his performance on Wolf Hall (2015). Regardless of his double Globe nominations, this is his year. Like the very wordless beginning to Bridge of Spies, Rylance’s very broad and eccentric English accent and his lack for words still builds up an scrupulous story about the character he represents. The synergy between his and Hanks’ character soak beautifully throughout the course of the film despite the very bleak and dire circumstances of their situations – very much like the Itzhak Stern and Oskar Schindler relationship. Like most of Spielberg’s epics, it is this sort of trait coupled with the harsh environments he uses which cites very bittersweet themes.

Sadly, however, we are bereft of the Williams-Spielberg partnership due to Williams’ health conditions around the time of post-production; but don’t worry – we will revisit John Williams’ in the upcoming Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens (2015), and you are also treated to a spectacular score from 12-time Oscar nominated Thomas Newman. The soundtrack most definitely does not disappoint, and while saddened we can’t explicitly hear our famous duo, it’s interesting to witness a different composer working with Spielberg. “Standing Man” and “Homecoming” are graced with tremendous impact.

Alas, it admittedly brings me with firm tenacity to actually find anything seriously negative with Spielberg. Everything is so patient, gifted with great writing, casting, music, and of course cinematography. A wonderful film with a wonderful story.

Matthew Alfrey

The Liberator (2013)

(3/09/15)

“A mindful politically-driven drama which staggers on its potential”

Alberto Arvelo’s The Liberator had been a hopeful spectacle for me after viewing the trailer I became accustomed to a year prior. It opened up a great deal of interest to me; it bounded the biographic and historic life of Simón Bolívar, a Venezuelan revolutionary, sparsely influenced by the American War of Independence (among other sources), with the intent of freeing large provinces of South America from Spanish monarchical rule. The sole premise of the movie easily allured me – Simón Bolívar, along with the likes of Lincoln, were concrete figures in history who provided a catalyst of hope for their own people; Bolívar himself was even called Liberator by his supporters, hence the film’s title. As a Western European, I was sightless in such an immeasurable and huge part of history that was embarrassingly unknown to me prior watching. The film’s use of Spanish, tinted with various bouts of English in occasional scenes, widened that flavour of authenticity and rawness, adding to that sense of true grit and immersion.

The film’s generous budget warranted the movie to capture utterly awe-inspiring shots. The cinematography undoubtedly bestowed a mountainous role in this project, with the utterly wondrous scenery predominantly being filmed in Venezuela, in rich locations such as the Canaima National Park. Coupled with the glorious style the film was shot in, the movie panders a beautiful first opening shot, and correlating to Spielberg’s Lincoln, it takes a fair few minutes for us to see the face of our hero, the camera making clever use of manipulation to introduce us gradually to a figure so statute and powerful.

However, despite the rather hefty sum the movie was granted, this is a mindful politically-driven drama which staggers on its potential. Simón Bolívar was a hugely complex man with a hugely complex history; this two-hour picture doesn’t perpetuate that sense of justice we need. I felt no true sense of impact and motivation throughout the course of the movie – we see little oppression from the actions of the Spanish (or “Royalists”) from Bolívar’s perspective other than a small scene or two which involved the use of slaves. It makes us wonder why Bolívar, a privileged aristocrat, is actually fighting this cause. Clearly our antagonists have meek character development, as we are hardly introduced to them. But that hidden precedent of angst and pain we didn’t get to see lost the realistic tendency of Bolívar’s motives. Comparatively, 12 Years A Slave is a movie which had the actual tenacity to depict the brutalization of African-Americans, and as a result we could see why Solomon Northup was so eager for emancipation.

Bolívar’s character and intentions nearer the end of the film become a hazy cloud, and it’s abrupt conclusion left holes that made me pander to do some more research on the life of this polarizing figure. It attempted to become more political than adventurous during the movie’s third act (as expected), but subsequently felt too quick and brushed over once Bolívar’s adversarial ideologies started to emerge, as if the creator’s didn’t want us to feel any dislike against our protagonist. In Schindler’s List we understand that Schindler’s initial intentions were to take advantage of war Jews for profiteering, yet Schindler is still known as one of the most compassionate and influential people during that period because his good deeds overpowered the bad ones. Why was Arvelo so afraid to show that?

Easily, this film’s intentions and awareness of South American history could have been expanded into a three-hour treat, a miniseries, or possibly a trilogy. It left audiences wondering more into this amazing history and how intricate Bolívar’s life actually was. Like the Wachowski’s Cloud Atlas, this project was incredibly ambitious to translate into film, something which of course, as previously mentioned, had the utmost potential to explain more about the life of this wondrous character – which it unfortunately lacked. Not fantastic, but not terrible either.

Matthew Alfrey

Malfrey's Movie Madness

"He killed them with their love. That's how it is every day, all over the world."

Category: Historical

Come and See (1985)

Bone Tomahawk (2015)

Bridge of Spies (2015)

The Liberator (2013)

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