das-7 Reviews

Asoka (2001)

Another 10 minutes would have helped

[10/10 · 1 November 2001]

While this engaging film wonderfully depicts the evolution of a young man into the ferocious killing machine emperor called ChandAshoka (Wild Ashoka) it pays little attention to the much more vital legacy as DharmAshoka (Faithful Ashoka). Cutting two songs, and adding another 10 minutes of exposition to show his evolution into the enlightened and compassionate meesenger of Buddhism would have made the film much more complete, and raised it to the level of highest achievement. Ashoka made Kalinga into a centre of Buddhism that endured more than a millennium, until the Shaivaite and Vaishnavite Hindu Renaissance of the 12th and 13th centuries. His legacy as a prophet of multiculturalism, peace and tolerance was insufficiently explored. It might have helped to have had an English translation of the beautiful and profound rock edicts that were shown only as a visual element in the opening and closing credits. It is a shame that Ashoka's Greek ancestry is not even acknowledged in the film. His grandfather Chandragupta, who is seen as convert to the ultra-pacifist Jain faith in the opening scenes, married the daughter of rht edfeated Greek general Seleucus Nicator, who led Alexander the Great's forces to defeat in the Punjab. Ashoka was born of one of Bindusara's Indian wives, which makes Ashoka at least one quarter Greek -- he was the very fusion of the Greco-Indian classical tradition, snd it was he who caused to be erected the collossal Buddhas at Bamiyan, destroyed earlier this year by the Taliban government in Afghanistan. Despite these minor failings it is a superb film, and even today you can wander the sand dunes of the River Daya (Compassion) in southeastern Orissa (formerly Kalinga) and experience the fullimagining of the Ashokan battlefield. Best regards Satya

The Purple Taxi (1977)

A lost masterpiece

[10/10 · 26 July 2001]

I have seen this remarkable film only once, at a film festival in Edmonton Canada in 1978 or 1979 -- and most people haven't heard of it. In fact, until IMDB came along, I wasn't even able to persuade skeptical friends that this movie had ever been made. It's a mystery to me why this masterpiece has never been resurrected. The international cast features each and every player at their best. Set in the wild coast of western Ireland, the stories within the film are beautifully constructed and melded. It is an absolute treat to see Peter Ustinov, Charlotte Rampling, Fred Astaire, Philippe Noiret giving first-class performances all in the same film. Rampling is particularly good, and the scenes with Ustinov and Noiret crackle with finely-played lines. I've never heard of this on video or DVD and I don't even know if a decent print exists. If you ever come across it, you must see it -- this is a richly rewarding work.

Enemy at the Gates (2001)

Better than Private Ryan

[10/10 · 19 June 2001]

The first 30 minutes of Saving Private Ryan may have been the best war footage ever shot. The first 30 minutes of Enemy at the Gates is at least as good. And the rest of this remarkable feeling is better -- for its clear-eyed view of the war on the Eastern Front, the story Hollywood never tells. The struggle between two totalitarian leaders, Hitler and Stalin, was the most bestial and ferocious battle in history. The film opens with an unbearably horrifying tableau in Stalingrad. The Russian conscripts, without enough rifles to go around, are sent armed and unarmed to charge a well-entrenched German position. They are slaughtered by machine gun fire. As they run back to their own lines, their own officers open fire on them, shouting "deserters will be shot." From this shocking beginning, we are offered a vision of war in which there are no winners, no right side and wrong side, in which all but the leaders are victims. Enemy at the Gates is perhaps the most honest film ever made about war. It has subtle, trenchant observations about the nature of propaganda and of genuine heroism, and its depiction of Stalingrad (now Volgograd) is as compelling and realistic as anything put on film. There are a number of exceptional performances. Three young English actors -- Joseph Fiennes, Jude Law and Rachel Weisz -- offer a superb ensemble performance. They make their unglamorous characters utterly and compellingly human. Yet they are overshadowed in a career-best performance by the American actor Ed Harris, who in his maturity is emerging as one of the finest American actors of the century. There is a strong resonance of Burt Lancaster in his prime in Harris's nuanced, brilliant performance, where every gesture and every facial expression is invested with meaning and depth. Bob Hoskins is terrifying as the calculating and brutal Nikita Sergeyevich Khruschev, who made his name as a political commissar at Stalingrad and later succeeded Stalin as dictator of the Soviet Union. There is a superb cameo as well from the rarely-used American actor Everett McGill, who had the starring non-speaking role in the director Jean-Jacques Annaud's film Quest for Fire. Yet it is the central performances of the three young people that carries the film and gives it emotional weight. Annaud weaves their performances into an intimate glimpse of what it is like to fight for rulers in whom you have no faith, against an implacable enemy, all the while trying to retain a vestige of your humanity. Fiennes as the disillusioned propagandist Danilov -- a Jew who becomes a political commissar to escape persecution -- is very good; as is Weisz. Yet it is young Jude Law, in a performance even more impressive than his role in The Talented Mr. Ripley, who fills the screen nearly as well as Harris. If Law continues to be this good, he could very well grow up to be the next Michael Caine. A first-class film all around, and the only "must see" movie of the year. Far better than Pearl Harbour (which I rather liked, despite its old=fashioned sentimentality), Enemy at the Gates is war at its most elemental -- a raw struggle to defend all you have and are.

Little Voice (1998)

Michael Caine in peak form

[10/10 · 4 June 2001]

Quirky, gritty, utterly engaging film about the nature of hope and the reality of backwater ambitions features remarkable performances from Jane Horrocks, Jim Broadbent, Brenda Blethyn and the very finest role of Michael Caine's illustrious career. Ensemble acting has never been better, and Caine's spellbinding performance is even better than the similar role Laurence Olivier inhabited in The Entertainer. A stunning film.

The Crying Game (1992)

A remarkable study of loyalty, identity and betrayal

[10/10 · 9 April 2001]

Nearly a decade after its release, Neil Jordan's The Crying Game continues to stand out in the top ranks of intelligent, literate and provocative psychological thrillers. At heart it is a remarkable study of loyalty, identity and betrayal. A textured exploration of the nature of allegiance and friendship, the film is anchored by fine central performances from Jaye Davidson, Forrest Whitaker and Stephen Rea. Indeed, the American actor Whitaker's utterly convincing portrayal of a modern urban Briton is ample proof of his impressive range. It is perhaps Whitaker's finest performance. The triangular relationship explores the principal theme on many levels, and the fine supporting performances from Jim Broadbent and Miranda Richardson add to the richness of Jordan's film.

O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)

Great American Myth-making

[10/10 · 12 February 2001]

By far the warmest and most appealing of the Coen Brothers films, O Brother Where Art Thou is a quintessentially American film. A series of lovely vignettes are full of comic moments, yet go deeper to capture the making of Modern America. The film is beautifully photographed and lit, the hard-edge ambience of the era permeates a landscape in which innocence and cynicism fight for primacy, resulting in a draw. The music is gorgeous, the references to the Odyssey arch and humorous (Penelope with a brood of daughters, pursued by an oily pol who would replace her own flawed Ulysses, is an indelible image). And George Clooney's brave, self-mocking performance is matched at every turn by an exemplary cast. This is John Turturro's best "everyman" performance since Quiz Show, and there is an air of unsentimental nostalgia about the whole enterprise that is peculiarly sweet and affecting.

Charlie's Angels (2000)

Utterly Execrable

[1/10 · 12 February 2001]

This is thin gruel indeed even for escapist summer entertainment. It's not enough to have attractive players. An incoherent plot, no character development, no sense of believable motivation, require too large a suspension of belief on the audience's part. Yes, the young ladies and young men have lovely bodies. That point is made ad nauseam. And, er, that's it.

Casablanca (1942)

The Classic Romance Thriller

[10/10 · 22 January 2001]

An exceptional ensemble cast, a richly textured script, and director Michael Curtiz's gift for observing rather than passing judgement upon the behaviour of ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances make Casablanca an outstanding film nearly a half century after its release. The film itself takes its tone from the Richard Blaine character with its deft blend of cynicism and engagement, ironic detachment and the dormant capacity to Believe. Coming as it did in the early years of the Second World War, when the outcome was far from certain, Casablanca stands as an astonishing act of bravado that offers a measure of hope without collapsing into propaganda slogans about the inevitability of victory. The particular ambiguity of the Vichy regime (that arresting opening, with the fleeing man shot under the the wall portrait of Marechal Petain proclaiming "I keep not only my promises, but those of others") is vividly captured in Casablanca, embodied in Capitaine Renault. The central romance has perhaps become a cliche in the eyes of modern viewers, because there have been so many parodies, reinterpretations, imitations. Yet there is something thrilling about a romance in which the carnality is implied rather than displayed in numbing (dare one say dull) detail, the easy way out taken by so many modern directors. Indeed, the most recent modern parallel to the plangent sexuality of Casablanca is the prison cell scene in Gladiator. Altogether a marvellous film of abiding quality, and just as a bonus, it offers the second-most blood-stirring version of the Marseillaise you will hear (first place is still claimed by Jessye Norman, draped in the French tricouleur, moving down the Champs Elysees, bringing tears to the soldiers of the honour guard during the bicentenary of the French Revolution).