aequus314
Joined Jan 2013
Welcome to the new profile
We're still working on updating some profile features. To see the badges, ratings breakdowns, and polls for this profile, please go to the previous version.
Ratings68
aequus314's rating
Reviews51
aequus314's rating
Mick Jackson's BBC docu-drama opens with one implicit warning:
"In an urban society, everything connects. Each person's needs are fed by the skills of many others.
Our lives are woven together in a fabric, but the connections that make society strong also make it vulnerable."
His warning concludes with a fragile strand of spider silk and fades into a fully woven, menacing orb of spider web.
I saw this post-nuclear apocalypse film on the force of Guardian's recommendation for scariest horror films. But I don't consider it the scariest horror I've seen for two reasons: Threads is not really horror by formalistic standards as it can't be qualified by the usual sub-genres (slasher, supernatural, psychological to name a few). Second, it didn't induce a sense of mounting dread (so keenly attempted by most horror movies) in all 112 minutes of running time.
Yet it gave me a nightmare the same night I was done watching.
So what's the big deal? There are tonnes of shows (about wars, nuclear disasters, end-of-the-world) trying to frighten us with gruesome make-up and special effects anyway: Pearl Harbor, The Hills Have Eyes, Children of Men Well it is here that the film's choice of fictional news footage and anti-aesthetic photography by Andrew Dunn and Paul Morris deserve mention. Amplified by the context of nuclear radiation in a densely populated urban centre, human disfigurement occurring in the thick of those post-disaster scenes were absolutely disturbing to witness.
I haven't seen imageries this persistent and lasting since defective humans and severed limbs in movies by Jodorowsky. The video's grainy resolution — likely the result of analogue format on Super VHS back in the 1980s — adds to the tone of cinéma vérité very well. Overall effect is creepy like a scratchy washed-out video in Hideo Nakata's Ringu, combined with the haunting cruelty in war photos captured by James Natchwey.
Screenwriter Barry Hines hypothesizes the fate of people living in Sheffield when the Soviet Union detonates a warhead above the North Sea. I will not delve into details with a blow-by-blow account of the fictional brinkmanship in Threads, but essentially, a failed US- led coup in Iran escalates into armed confrontation with the Soviet Union. This crisis culminates in nuclear attacks on NATO bases throughout the region, with the city of Sheffield being one of several targets.
Three narrative viewpoints drive the film: documentary aspects are narrated by an omniscient man whom earlier, had warned us of the vulnerability in a system held by connections that interlock too closely. He explains in chronological sequence: how early days of the crisis lead to the melt down of society's economic, social, medical and environmental conditions. And finally, the ultimate collapse of humanity itself. Dramatic arcs are painted through the story of young lovers, Ruth Beckett and Jimmy Kemps. An unplanned pregnancy introduces their respective families (the Becketts and the Kemps) in the mix, effectively setting up these ordinary characters as victims who will suffer for generations to come, acutely and chronically, the full blown effects of this event when nuclear radiation rises and peaks after 3000 megatons of TNT. Another viewpoint follows a small group of council members in Sheffield's Emergency Operations Team.
All three units engineer in full force; a scientifically eloquent, nightmarish and realistic narrative of total devastation caused by a nuclear holocaust.
Threads may be a faux-documentary but still, it makes for a terrifying watch. Miles ahead of fly-by-night Hollywood disaster flicks, this is a deeply intense social realist drama anchored in credible visual tone and political language. Don't let the fact that it was made back in 1984 fool you into thinking otherwise. Not for the squirmish or faint-hearted.
cinemainterruptus.wordpress.com
"In an urban society, everything connects. Each person's needs are fed by the skills of many others.
Our lives are woven together in a fabric, but the connections that make society strong also make it vulnerable."
His warning concludes with a fragile strand of spider silk and fades into a fully woven, menacing orb of spider web.
I saw this post-nuclear apocalypse film on the force of Guardian's recommendation for scariest horror films. But I don't consider it the scariest horror I've seen for two reasons: Threads is not really horror by formalistic standards as it can't be qualified by the usual sub-genres (slasher, supernatural, psychological to name a few). Second, it didn't induce a sense of mounting dread (so keenly attempted by most horror movies) in all 112 minutes of running time.
Yet it gave me a nightmare the same night I was done watching.
So what's the big deal? There are tonnes of shows (about wars, nuclear disasters, end-of-the-world) trying to frighten us with gruesome make-up and special effects anyway: Pearl Harbor, The Hills Have Eyes, Children of Men Well it is here that the film's choice of fictional news footage and anti-aesthetic photography by Andrew Dunn and Paul Morris deserve mention. Amplified by the context of nuclear radiation in a densely populated urban centre, human disfigurement occurring in the thick of those post-disaster scenes were absolutely disturbing to witness.
I haven't seen imageries this persistent and lasting since defective humans and severed limbs in movies by Jodorowsky. The video's grainy resolution — likely the result of analogue format on Super VHS back in the 1980s — adds to the tone of cinéma vérité very well. Overall effect is creepy like a scratchy washed-out video in Hideo Nakata's Ringu, combined with the haunting cruelty in war photos captured by James Natchwey.
Screenwriter Barry Hines hypothesizes the fate of people living in Sheffield when the Soviet Union detonates a warhead above the North Sea. I will not delve into details with a blow-by-blow account of the fictional brinkmanship in Threads, but essentially, a failed US- led coup in Iran escalates into armed confrontation with the Soviet Union. This crisis culminates in nuclear attacks on NATO bases throughout the region, with the city of Sheffield being one of several targets.
Three narrative viewpoints drive the film: documentary aspects are narrated by an omniscient man whom earlier, had warned us of the vulnerability in a system held by connections that interlock too closely. He explains in chronological sequence: how early days of the crisis lead to the melt down of society's economic, social, medical and environmental conditions. And finally, the ultimate collapse of humanity itself. Dramatic arcs are painted through the story of young lovers, Ruth Beckett and Jimmy Kemps. An unplanned pregnancy introduces their respective families (the Becketts and the Kemps) in the mix, effectively setting up these ordinary characters as victims who will suffer for generations to come, acutely and chronically, the full blown effects of this event when nuclear radiation rises and peaks after 3000 megatons of TNT. Another viewpoint follows a small group of council members in Sheffield's Emergency Operations Team.
All three units engineer in full force; a scientifically eloquent, nightmarish and realistic narrative of total devastation caused by a nuclear holocaust.
Threads may be a faux-documentary but still, it makes for a terrifying watch. Miles ahead of fly-by-night Hollywood disaster flicks, this is a deeply intense social realist drama anchored in credible visual tone and political language. Don't let the fact that it was made back in 1984 fool you into thinking otherwise. Not for the squirmish or faint-hearted.
cinemainterruptus.wordpress.com
I've never been a fan of Darwinian theory: why interfere when mother nature will straighten out the weak? Not especially after watching this simple, yet powerful film.
The Dardennes do not make make morality tales. Even though their characters navigate practical dilemmas that challenge their moral stance. This moral stance in turn, corresponds with realities in which these characters exist — it is a ramification of larger economic forces that govern the poor and working-class.
It is with that in mind, that the Dardenne's narrative strategy reflects neorealist tradition and normative ethics. The main point has always been for us, the audience, to observe the conditions in these characters' daily lives, how they conduct themselves or negotiate problems and resolve dilemmas. In a Dardenne film, we're allowed to engage unobtrusively, without passing judgements on what they choose and how they arrive at those choices eventually.
Two Days, One Night is set against the backdrop of an industrial town in Liège, Belgium. Sandra Bya (Marion Cotillard) is a working-class wife and mother who earns her living in a solar panel factory. After a nervous breakdown, she is forced to take a break from work. The duration of her absence isn't known to viewers, but sufficient for supervisor Mr. Dumont to notice it was possible to cover Sandra's work if all 16 workers pulled an extra 3-hours per shift.
Soon, the factory's management proposes 1,000 bonus to each staff if they agree to make Sandra redundant. By the time Sandra returns to work and knows what happened, majority of her co-workers had opted for the bonus. Factory foreman Jean-Marc influenced their votes by saying if Sandra wasn't laid off, maybe they (her co- workers) would be. Regardless, her fate has been sealed via democratic means.
Concerned friend and colleague Juliette appeals to Mr. Dumont and negotiates a secret snap ballot. Everyone will vote first thing Monday morning — will they choose the 1,000 bonus or Sandra? Because the factory's management surely could not afford both.
Two Days, One Night refers to the weekend: rest days where hard workers retreat in comfort to the sanctuary of their homes and private lives. When Sandra is forced to intrude people's lives on a precious weekend, visit each and every one of her 16 co-workers in a bid to change their minds before Monday (I use the word "forced" because clearly, Sandra was embarrassed and reluctant to do it), at one point she laments in self-disgust saying "I can't stand it. Every time I feel like a beggar, a thief coming to take their money. They look at me ready to hit me. I feel like hitting them too." But kitchen worker and husband Manu urges with maturity and understanding, "You have to fight for your job." Both knew Sandra cannot quite walk away and abandon work at the small factory. The family of four has just recently moved out of public housing. Sandra needs the minimum wage job to keep their heads above the water, to keep from going back to welfare assistance.
Much of the film has Manu drive Sandra around the small town of Liège, as the 48-hours clock goes ticking down with growing intensity. The first dilemma is presented as she goes knocking door- to-door, trying to convince fellow employees to give up a salary bonus that they too, badly need. Times are hard and money is tight, her interactions with each co-worker and their subsequent response to her plea is compelling to watch. Lesser film-makers will settle with a cookie cutter protagonist in need of sympathy, but this isn't the case with Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne.
There is a real sense here that the space and reality of this film has the relevance of modern social-political commentary. "Will you vote for me?" — the same question when asked repeatedly, becomes illuminated by varying personal realities. Thus allowing the audience to consider the same situation with changing arguments and evolving perspectives. Every step of the way, the audience absorbs a broad spectrum of humanity as reactions toward Sandra ricochet between doubt and certainty: selfish and cruel, unapologetic and indifferent, defensive and guilt-ridden, conflicted and hesitant, kind and compassionate. At one point, it had me wondering if Sandra, for the sake of some colleagues so dangerously close to the margins of poverty, probably shouldn't be appealing at all — after all, their knapsacks are so much tinier and more fragile than the sling bag draped across her hunched, bony shoulders.
All the above reflects just one, out of several more thought experiments found in the plot design. One particular sub-plot examines Sandra's level of resilience as a recovering depressive, and culminates in an episode involving a box of Xanax. Here, Marion Cotillard turns in her role with master class technique — she applies subdued, matter-of-fact emotional tone with the kind of authenticity and resignation made possible only by an exhausted, dehumanized, defeated soul. Less is accurately more.
When I saw L'Infant at the Alliance Française de Singapour back in 2005; I was a young adult in her early twenties with the intellectual capital and moral patience of a fish. Coming out of my first experience with the Dardennes, my opinion towards main character Bruno, was straight forward and quite simply, disapproving — what kind of person sells his own newborn child for a meagre sum of money? I left the small theatre with obvious answers and a snap conclusion, partially dissatisfied and disappointed with the film's ridiculous premise.
Nearly a decade has passed and now having watched Two Days, One Night; I find myself weighing all variables in the complex social totality embodied by one simple observation: "Some people are so rich they don't know what it means to live with so little." I no longer believe in moral absolutes with the reckless naiveté of a youth. What an honest, complex and thought provoking film. How wide-ranging and realistic.
cinemainterruptus.wordpress.com
The Dardennes do not make make morality tales. Even though their characters navigate practical dilemmas that challenge their moral stance. This moral stance in turn, corresponds with realities in which these characters exist — it is a ramification of larger economic forces that govern the poor and working-class.
It is with that in mind, that the Dardenne's narrative strategy reflects neorealist tradition and normative ethics. The main point has always been for us, the audience, to observe the conditions in these characters' daily lives, how they conduct themselves or negotiate problems and resolve dilemmas. In a Dardenne film, we're allowed to engage unobtrusively, without passing judgements on what they choose and how they arrive at those choices eventually.
Two Days, One Night is set against the backdrop of an industrial town in Liège, Belgium. Sandra Bya (Marion Cotillard) is a working-class wife and mother who earns her living in a solar panel factory. After a nervous breakdown, she is forced to take a break from work. The duration of her absence isn't known to viewers, but sufficient for supervisor Mr. Dumont to notice it was possible to cover Sandra's work if all 16 workers pulled an extra 3-hours per shift.
Soon, the factory's management proposes 1,000 bonus to each staff if they agree to make Sandra redundant. By the time Sandra returns to work and knows what happened, majority of her co-workers had opted for the bonus. Factory foreman Jean-Marc influenced their votes by saying if Sandra wasn't laid off, maybe they (her co- workers) would be. Regardless, her fate has been sealed via democratic means.
Concerned friend and colleague Juliette appeals to Mr. Dumont and negotiates a secret snap ballot. Everyone will vote first thing Monday morning — will they choose the 1,000 bonus or Sandra? Because the factory's management surely could not afford both.
Two Days, One Night refers to the weekend: rest days where hard workers retreat in comfort to the sanctuary of their homes and private lives. When Sandra is forced to intrude people's lives on a precious weekend, visit each and every one of her 16 co-workers in a bid to change their minds before Monday (I use the word "forced" because clearly, Sandra was embarrassed and reluctant to do it), at one point she laments in self-disgust saying "I can't stand it. Every time I feel like a beggar, a thief coming to take their money. They look at me ready to hit me. I feel like hitting them too." But kitchen worker and husband Manu urges with maturity and understanding, "You have to fight for your job." Both knew Sandra cannot quite walk away and abandon work at the small factory. The family of four has just recently moved out of public housing. Sandra needs the minimum wage job to keep their heads above the water, to keep from going back to welfare assistance.
Much of the film has Manu drive Sandra around the small town of Liège, as the 48-hours clock goes ticking down with growing intensity. The first dilemma is presented as she goes knocking door- to-door, trying to convince fellow employees to give up a salary bonus that they too, badly need. Times are hard and money is tight, her interactions with each co-worker and their subsequent response to her plea is compelling to watch. Lesser film-makers will settle with a cookie cutter protagonist in need of sympathy, but this isn't the case with Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne.
There is a real sense here that the space and reality of this film has the relevance of modern social-political commentary. "Will you vote for me?" — the same question when asked repeatedly, becomes illuminated by varying personal realities. Thus allowing the audience to consider the same situation with changing arguments and evolving perspectives. Every step of the way, the audience absorbs a broad spectrum of humanity as reactions toward Sandra ricochet between doubt and certainty: selfish and cruel, unapologetic and indifferent, defensive and guilt-ridden, conflicted and hesitant, kind and compassionate. At one point, it had me wondering if Sandra, for the sake of some colleagues so dangerously close to the margins of poverty, probably shouldn't be appealing at all — after all, their knapsacks are so much tinier and more fragile than the sling bag draped across her hunched, bony shoulders.
All the above reflects just one, out of several more thought experiments found in the plot design. One particular sub-plot examines Sandra's level of resilience as a recovering depressive, and culminates in an episode involving a box of Xanax. Here, Marion Cotillard turns in her role with master class technique — she applies subdued, matter-of-fact emotional tone with the kind of authenticity and resignation made possible only by an exhausted, dehumanized, defeated soul. Less is accurately more.
When I saw L'Infant at the Alliance Française de Singapour back in 2005; I was a young adult in her early twenties with the intellectual capital and moral patience of a fish. Coming out of my first experience with the Dardennes, my opinion towards main character Bruno, was straight forward and quite simply, disapproving — what kind of person sells his own newborn child for a meagre sum of money? I left the small theatre with obvious answers and a snap conclusion, partially dissatisfied and disappointed with the film's ridiculous premise.
Nearly a decade has passed and now having watched Two Days, One Night; I find myself weighing all variables in the complex social totality embodied by one simple observation: "Some people are so rich they don't know what it means to live with so little." I no longer believe in moral absolutes with the reckless naiveté of a youth. What an honest, complex and thought provoking film. How wide-ranging and realistic.
cinemainterruptus.wordpress.com
Jarmusch's decision to cast Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston as cultured star-crossed lovers married for centuries was on point — I could not imagine anyone else carrying such performances otherwise.
The exquisite detail in which we witness the immortal passion and passing frustrations of suave, retro-rock lovers Adam and Eve gives Jarmusch ample chances to weave his signature cinematic style. Everything from the stylish soundtrack, to the surreal photography, to hip-heroin-chic-like performances that mirror the love and longing felt by these two lovers left me wanting more.
This is both a cinephile and Swinton or Hiddleston fan treat where every sidelong glance carries a meaning and every drop of blood is given its own unique trail.
cinemainterruptus.wordpress.com
The exquisite detail in which we witness the immortal passion and passing frustrations of suave, retro-rock lovers Adam and Eve gives Jarmusch ample chances to weave his signature cinematic style. Everything from the stylish soundtrack, to the surreal photography, to hip-heroin-chic-like performances that mirror the love and longing felt by these two lovers left me wanting more.
This is both a cinephile and Swinton or Hiddleston fan treat where every sidelong glance carries a meaning and every drop of blood is given its own unique trail.
cinemainterruptus.wordpress.com