Don't Touch Me.

The Todd Haynes/Julianne Moore fest continues! This is title four for Mr Haynes (with a fifth on the way) and title six for Ms Moore (with two more on the way - can anyone say Julianne-love? I can, but it's not a very attracting combined word, so I might drop the hyphen. Good? Good.)


Safe hit in 1995 and was a bit of a breakthrough for both Haynes, post Poison, and Moore, landing them both in the limelight. It was a title I remember seeing around at the time and in the years after, and have heard a lot about, making me expect something wondrous. I must say, I was a little disappointed.

Carol (Moore) is a suburban housewife, partnered to Greg (Xander Berkeley), stepmother to his son. She spends her time around the house, not working, not really doing anything that might be considered productively using her time - there are no real hobbies outside of decorating her home. There is nothing really wrong with her life, per se, but it does seem somewhat hollow. Suddenly she begins to develop horrible allergies and unexplained medical problems - asthma strikes, nosebleeds, vomiting, convulsions - and they get more and more severe as the film progresses. Doctors can't work out what is wrong with her, and, struggling, she reaches out to an advertisement she sees for a new age retreat called Wrenwood, a rural estate designed to help people suffering from multiple chemical sensitivity. Cars are not allowed, allergens are kept to a minimum, all to try and allow these people to function on a day to day basis.


Whilst there, she almost seems to be brainwashed. Religion is involved, visits are limited, and her condition doesn't seem to improve at all. In fact, it is not long before she is wheeling around an oxygen tank and eyeing off an old igloo-type structure that another chronic sufferer created in order to bar all outside intrusion in the hope that this will help.


I don't mean to cheapen the experience of anyone who may actually suffer from disorders like this (I have no doubt that there must be some repercussions to the hugely increased chemical intrusion on our day to day lives), but it does seem to be quite heavily implied that much of this from Carol is a cry for attention. More than that, actually, it seems that she is looking for a niche to involve herself in, for a world that gives her meaning, structure, purpose. Or at least gives her a very valid excuse for not being able to pursue one. 


I didn't find myself overly intrigued by the story. There is a distinct possibility that that is at least partially the fault of the time passed since the setting of the film - like the Y2K hysteria, there may well have been a bigger cultural fear of traumas like this becoming more common and destructive during that time period. It definitely feels like a mid-1990s complex. Looking back on it it seems a little absurd, but maybe at the time is was much more topical and therefore more relevant. Now, for me (and this might be a cause of my own rampant skepticism of cults and cult-like organisations, which Wrenwood does superficially appear to be) it simple seems a little absurd.


Moore is fine in the film. I've seen her do much better work, I think. She didn't overly engage me with her character - I kind of wanted to slap her and tell her to go and get a life, stop being so passive and do something to improve her situation. And that was all before her problems started. I just didn't have any desire to empathise with her. 


Hayne's work both as writer and director also didn't really allow me in. He kept us very distant from the actions, not really allowing us into the emotions of anyone. The camera remained very objective, refusing to judge either Moore or Wrenwood or society, and I feel the film as a whole suffered for this. A little more editorialising might have allowed me to find a stance that gave me emotional involvement, whether positively or negatively, but instead it just left me floating loose in the middle.


The film as a whole was kind of interesting, but kind of not at the same time. It's memorable for a few moments of imagery, and it definitely serves as a marker in the trajectory of Hayne's career, coming between Poison and Velvet Goldmine. You can see the lessons he learned from his debut, and also where he stands to learn with his third film. 


I have now watched all of Hayne's films, and I definitely think that going through his career I like each of his films more than the last. Which is a truly remarkable thing to watch. Every one of his films (will) appear on this blog, and he will be the only filmmaker with more than one or two films (I think) to have that honour. I will have watched his entire oeuvre over a six month period, which has really enlightened me to the movements of him as a filmmaker, his development. And I really like that. I'm really happy I have had this opportunity.


Having said that, the film is 2.5 stars.

Poison.

Well, ain't that a creative title for a sick Saturday morning. Watch film. Take name of film as title. Discuss.


But, Todd Haynes fest! First this and then this and now Poison. And we've got Safe coming up! Yay! That'll leave only I'm Not There and I will have all of Haynes' feature narrative work down, and most of it on here. I don't know why that excites me, but it does.

Poison was his debut, and it was pretty successful for a first outing. (Also, incidentally, the debut feature producer credit for uber-indie megastar producer Christine Vachon, who is responsible for bringing us half a dozen or so films on this here blog. Thanks Christine!) Teddy? Check. Sundance Grand Jury Prize? Check. Those are a couple of not insignificant awards right there.


Me? I think I need to watch it again. I think there are levels in the film that I wasn't expecting, took me completely by surprise and I wasn't really up for. It's really three different stories. In one of them a young boy kills his father before quite literally flying away. In another a scientist develops the elixir of human sexuality and, after consuming it, turns into a monster. The third is a queer prison story (which just sounds like porn, but isn't) about one inmate who is attracted to another whom he recognises from their previous time together in a juvenile facility. The stories are titled Hero, Horror and Homo respectively.


It is definitely an interesting film. Each of the films is told in a different style - the first is a doco, the second like old school horror films, almost like a creature feature in parts, and the third kind of straight up. The general vibe absolutely fits with the New Queer Cinema that Sundance was a heavy proponent of back in the early nineties (see here) with it's non-traditional style of telling an otherwise fairly traditional story. Or stories, as is the case.


Shot primarily in black and white, everything technically and performatively fits in the film. Performances are hammy or naturalistic or dramatic as required, the camera moves how you would expect it to in each given format, the cinematography matches the shifts. It all felt a little disjointed to me, however. The consistent themes didn't flow through, the mood and feel didn't pass on segment to segment. This is why I think I need to watch it again. I think I was so thrown by the fact that it was so different to Far From Heaven or Velvet Goldmine in its narrative structure.


So, in the meantime, until a revisit manages to occur, we're talking 2.5 stars.

We're In A Bit Of A Decadent Spiral, Aren't We?

To Ewan McGregor and Jonathan Rhys Meyers getting it, we say yes.


Ahem.


Todd Haynes has a way of putting together exciting combinations. Firstly (well, chronologically speaking, in terms of this blog...) he gave us Patricia Clarkson and Julianne Moore in the same film with Far From Heaven. With Velvet Goldmine he's decided to throw McGregor, Rhys Meyers and Toni Collette together for a glam rock faux-biopic. Sure, Christian Bale plays a prominent role (I do think it interesting that Bale, the American, plays a Brit while McGregor, the Brit [or Scot, whatever] plays an American), but I actually didn't mind him in the film, for the first time in my Bale-watching experience.

Bale takes the central role of Arthur Stuart, a Brit living in the States working as a journalist, tasked with writing an article trying to find out whatever happened to glam rocker Brian Slade (Rhys Meyers), aka Maxwell Demon, ten years after he faked his own death on stage, a stunt that ended his career and led to him gradually fading from the spotlight. Arthur, who hides from his colleagues that he wasn't only a follower of the period, but that he was in fact at the concert in question, and had even partied with the musicians involved with the movement (in more ways than one, if you get my point, wink wink nudge nudge), wanders around interviewing various interested parties, from Slade's old manager to his ex-wife Mandy (Collette.) Through these interviews, combined with Arthur's memories of the time, we piece together Slade's rise from complete obscurity, track his influences, including Curt Wild (McGregor), and then enter his megalomaniacal and self-destructive latter stage, leading to his ultimate downfall as the ultimate icon of the times.


The film is a very thinly veiled take on the life of David Bowie, hence the title. It explores the free-wheeling sexuality of the time and the public response to it, as well as the overriding power of the pop icon - combined with the freedoms of the 60s, suddenly the idea of rock stars as role models is somewhat dissolved, being replaced by the notion that, as they are larger than life, they can do what they want without repercussion. Of course, this is what leads to the outrage at Slade after his stunt - by tampering with the emotions and the obsessions of his fanbase when he tries to fool themselves that he is dead, he instead turns them into a mob baying for his blood when it is revealed to be a hoax. Imagine Michael Jackson suddenly popping up and saying 'hey, just kidding!' There would be outrage from the majority, not relief. That is what is happening here. Sure, the decadent spiral is fun for a while, but in the end everyone has to get off, or else they will end up drinking beers alone in a seedy bar somewhere, much like what happens to Curt Wild. Or you're crying into a glass of something like Mandy. When enough is enough, you have to say so. No one needs another Lindsay Lohan.


Haynes pulls together a great cast, for many of them a few years before they would really get a great deal of international notice, and works them together well. It's not a flawless feature, but it is a solid mix of fun and dramatics, happiness and sadness, glamourousness and seriousness. How accurate an insight into the era I can't say, knowing very little about it, but it is at the very least an interesting escape exercise for those not in the know. And I was shocked by how much I enjoyed Christian Bale. He is shy for the most part, reserved, scared even, but there is a moment when he is lying outside half naked with Slade and Wild when he smiles and it is beautiful. McGregor is ok, but I think a lot of it for me always has to do with his accents - I don't think he ever quite manages to pull them off as well as we would like. Collette as well isn't at her peak - she just doesn't seem totally involved during the more emotional segments, and her brash American through the party years grates rather than endears. Rhys Meyers was definitely my standout, bringing brooding insecurity into incredible ego easily and gorgeously. He owns his Maxwell Demon character, brings it to glorious life.


Sandy Powell deservedly picked up her third Oscar nomination for the film, in the same year that she won her first for Shakespeare In Love. Haynes picked up a special Artistic Contribution award at Cannes, and was also nominated for the Palme d'Or, while uber-producer in the indie world Christine Vachon racked up her second Independent Spirit nomination with Haynes for Best Feature.


As I said, it's a fun film with faults, but it's definitely a nice way to kill an afternoon. The soundtrack is fantastic also - we love our films with kicking music. Check it out. 3.5 stars.