The Courtier Reviews: The Light Between Oceans

This weekend I made one of my rare visits to the cinema to see the new film by Derek Cianfrance, “The Light Between Oceans”, starring Michael Fassbinder, Alicia Vikander, and Rachel Weisz. Although I will avoid spoilers in this review, both the trailer and even the most basic of reviews give away the plot, so the reader will forgive me if I make certain references to it. Overall, while I was captivated and drawn in by what seemed to be an Oscar-worthy movie at first, by the end I was more interested in how much longer it was going to take to reach the inevitable conclusion of what had turned into a high-quality TV soap opera.

The first half of the film, which is set in Post-WWI Australia, is unquestionably a visual and cinematic masterpiece. Director and Screenwriter Derek Cianfrance is clearly well-versed in the work of two Swedes, filmmaker Ingmar Bergman and artist Anders Zorn. Much of the cinematography reminded me of Bergman’s films and Zorn’s paintings, and the end result is absolutely stunning to watch on the big screen. The script, based on the novel of the same name by M.L. Stedman, recalls the work of François Mauriac and Thomas Hardy, who often explored themes of people who are good at heart becoming overwhelmed by bad choices and unfortunate circumstances. Over the course of the first hour or so, not only do we fall in love with the people and the places on screen, but we really come to feel for them when personal tragedies begin to cloud their otherwise picture-perfect lives.

Both Tom and Isabel, played by Fassbinder and Vikander, respectively, are wonderfully realized characters in this part of the movie. Perhaps because the two began their real-life relationship while working on the film, their emotional attachment is clearly visible. Clichéd though it may be, the story of actors falling in love with each other while playing lovers on screen exists for a reason. Fassbinder is wonderfully rigid and reserved as Tom, and Vikander is a perfect foil with her sunny, girl-next-door quality, which helps to bring the war-hardened Tom out of his shell.

One of the great strengths of the film is its significant reliance on Christian imagery and themes, although it is not an explicitly Christian movie. For example, we see Tom engaged in silent prayer at the end of a hard day, using a cold and heavy anvil as a prie-dieu. It is also a symbol of the hardness of heart which Tom is praying to get over after the horrors of war, for he has been wounded spiritually, rather than physically. In one of the most haunting moments of the film, the inconsolable Isabel goes to mourn over her dead children at their graves, and puts her head to the ground to see if she can hear them crying. I was immediately reminded of Jeremiah 31:15 – “This is what the LORD says: “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.”

The title of the film refers to the lighthouse where much of the first part of the movie takes place, and the island where the lighthouse stands clearly represents a kind of Eden. Like the first man, Tom is initially there alone with his thoughts, but makes the place a kind of peaceful haven. Later, when Isabel becomes his wife, it becomes a true paradise for them both. They have little contact with the world beyond the oceans which surround them, other than the visit every few weeks from an ancient, bearded fisherman, who bring supplies and messages. Yet once they make a decision that will alter the course of their lives, the two are expelled from their Eden, and neither they nor the audience will ever see it again.

Their sinful choice, and the subsequent expulsion of this particular Adam and Eve from Paradise, serve as a powerful metaphor for the Fall from Grace. As in Genesis, we see Eve persuade Adam to do something that they both know is wrong, and to ignore the consequences of their actions. It is their conscious, mutual choice to do wrong, and then to try to cover themselves up, which like the original Adam and Eve causes them to be cast out of Eden. If you are trying to wrap your head around the concept of Original Sin, the film does a magnificent job of putting that concept into reality.

Unfortunately, for all the fine acting and beautiful seascapes up to this point, the second half of the film does not live up to the promise of the first. Perhaps this is intentional, because once you are thrown out of Paradise, everything else is going to seem a petty disappointment. Yet after Tom and Isabel’s sin is discovered, I kept waiting for a payoff that never came. Part of this seems to be the director’s inability to figure out what to do with all of the characters he has to introduce for the remainder of the movie.

The character of Hannah (Rachel Weisz) dominates much of the latter half of the film. Yet for most of her time on screen I felt as though Weisz was dialing it in; she seemed more like the guest star on a decent BBC drama, rather than an Oscar-winning actress. Equally unfortunate is the limited amount of screen time given to Hannah’s father, played by legendary Australian actor Bryan Brown, the star of classics such as “F/X”, “The Thorn Birds”, and “Gorillas in the Mist”. One gets the sense that his character originally had more involvement in the film, but that many of his lines and scenes got tossed onto the editing room floor.

Perhaps most fatal of all, for all of their captivating qualities early on, was that by the end I did not much care what happened to Tom and Isabel. A plot twist that a studio-era director like George Cukor or Joseph Mankiewicz would have used to provide Vikander with the opportunity to really show her range (and secure herself an Oscar nomination) is utterly lost. I kept thinking of how Golden Age actresses like Ingrid Bergman or Bette Davis would have handled the shift in attitude between Tom and Isabel, and finding that Vikander just comes up short. And Tom, who ultimately has brought them both low, does not seem to handle the lines given to him in this situation as well as would, for example, a Gary Cooper or James Stewart in the same role.

In the end, mine is a mixed review. The first hour or so of the film is wonderfully acted and beautifully shot, and given the vastness of the seascapes I doubt that the better half of the film will play as well streaming on the small screen. Fassbinder and Vikander are wonderful together, and remind the viewer at times of actors in Classic Hollywood and Art House love stories. That being said, because of the average melodrama which makes up the remainder of the movie, I would suggest that this film is more appropriately seen at an afternoon matinee, rather than for a night out.

Tea And Sympathy With The Devil: A Reconsideration Of “The Shining”

Tea And Sympathy With The Devil: A Reconsideration Of “The Shining”

This weekend, between bouts of berating the smugly self-satisfied buyers on “Tiny House Hunters”, I re-watched “The Shining” (1980) because, as the saying goes, it was there. We all know that television passively feeds us, and all we have to do is sit back and allow ourselves to be fed. Me being me, even when that engagement starts out as passive, it eventually becomes rather active, not so much because I am anticipating certain lines or scenes – “Wendy…love of my life…” – but because the brain cannot stop being a brain simply because I want it to switch into idle mode.

I am not a Stephen King fan, and so cannot speak to “The Shining” the film’s relationship to “The Shining” the novel. The lone occasion when I casually picked up a collection of Stephen King short stories at the beach and read one at random is an event that I wish I could undo, or at least bleach what I read from my mind. Therefore if you are an expert in his work, please, refrain from commenting on how if I *only* read the book the film would make more sense, since that is never going to happen.

For a long time I have always felt a great deal of sympathy for Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson) in the film version of “The Shining”, because I never quite understood why it is that he ends up the way that he does. From other horror films, we know that opening the door to the occult by playing with Ouija boards or tarot cards is never a good idea. Yet even this weekend, in discussion with someone who watched the film with me, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was that led to Jack’s downfall. After all, he had not drawn a pentagram on the floor or started worshiping goats. It was only when I had the long trip back to DC yesterday that I had the chance to think a bit more about the damnation of Jack Torrance.

Two thoughts occurred to me, in considering what it was that made Jack something other than a dull boy. The first is that, in a sense, Jack actually did invite the devil in – an old one that was already very familiar to him. For Jack, as we learn early on in the film, is a recovering alcoholic. Although alcohol has been removed from the hotel as part of their insurance coverage, he nevertheless turns to the idea of alcohol in his frustration, an idea which his mind (or the haunted hotel, take your pick) is all too happy to indulge.

Jack’s addiction is not an excuse for his harming others, but it is an explanation. Perhaps today, we are more conscious of the complicated roots and effects of addiction than we were when this film was made, and we can understand that there is some degree of mental illness or brain damage that has taken root in the serious substance abuser. However the choices that one makes as an adult are, like it or not, still choices made using our own free will and not staring down the barrel of a gun. As a result, these sorts of choices have consequences.

The second thought, which is perhaps tied to the first, is that Jack’s character is motivated primarily by self-interest. While it is easy to mock Wendy Torrance (Shelley Duvall) because of her appearance and mannerisms, it is she who not only displays real backbone but, more importantly, a sense of self-sacrifice. After all, she follows her husband out into the wilderness, because she believes him when he says that this will be a good opportunity for them to start afresh. The fact that she references the Donner Party while doing so turns out to be rather an inauspicious coincidence, as we watch the family unit slowly devour itself.

Recall the moment when Danny Torrance (Danny Lloyd) shows up with unexplained bruising around his neck, and Wendy naturally runs to her husband for help. Given Jack’s reactions, she concludes that it is he who has inflicted physical abuse on their son, as indeed he had done previously. Wendy is trapped, both in an abusive marriage and in a location so isolated, forbidding, and dangerous that it may as well be outer space (something which Kubrick as a director understood very well.) Yet even toward the end of the film, when her own future seems bleakest, Wendy is more concerned with saving others than she is with saving herself.  

Perhaps then, the demon that gets Jack in the end is the one that stalks all of us: selfishness. For much of the film, Jack complains to Wendy that he is doing what he has to do for his family, except that he really isn’t. His choices are largely based on what he wants, and what he (as it turns out, mistakenly) believes is the best way for him to make up for his failures, as he descends into madness. Even if the Overlook Hotel somehow amplifies that selfishness, because of evil things that have taken place there previously, the hotel itself is not responsible for the individual’s decision to sit down to tea with the Devil in the first place.

However one cannot help but recognize, as Jack flails about in the maze at the end of the film like a wounded animal, incapable of forming human speech, that to look upon this figure without sympathy is to somehow become an animal oneself. Yes, Jack receives his just desserts, but without downplaying the horrible things he has done, one cannot help but feel just a tinge of pity for someone who could not finish the good fight. If we were isolated and battling our own demons, would we really come out of the fight any better than Jack? I wonder…and yet personally, I do not care to find out, thanks all the same.

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Deco Nouveau: A New Life For An Old London Movie Theatre

I wanted to draw the reader’s attention to a wonderful restoration-conversion project in London, where an old Art Deco-era cinema has found new life as an hotel. This article gives an overview of the project, as well as a link to a video featuring Jason Flanagan, the lead architect from the firm of Flanagan Lawrence who worked on it.What is particularly interesting about this design however, although this fact is not mentioned in the video, is that it has nothing to do with what the original building looked like.

Today we look at the lines of the exterior facades on the former Shepherd’s Bush Pavilion and say to ourselves, “Art Deco,” but at the time it was built the cinema was supposed to be in the Italian Renaissance style. One takes this description with a grain of salt, of course, since as anyone who has been to an old movie palace built in the early part of the 20th century knows, stylistic mish-mashes were quite common in these places. Here there would be some Chinese Chippendale, there some Hispano-Moorish, over there some Italo-French Rococo.

Nevertheless when it opened in 1923, this cinema made quite an impression, for both the exterior and the interior of the building won design awards from RIBA (The Royal Institute of British Architects). It was named as Best London Street Façade of the year, described as an “imposing structure of brick and stone in which the former material especially is used with great imagination.” It also won a Bronze Medal for Best Interior Design, due in part to having over two miles of carpet, and solid silver light fixtures. This was occurring at a transitional time in the entertainment industry, when films were becoming longer and more elaborate, and the stars of the silver screen were becoming the trend-setters in society, so that movies were no longer something raunchy or silly shown only in gaming arcades or at the seaside.

What is particularly interesting here is that the interior of the new hotel is not a retrofit of the original. In fact the original interior was bombed out by the Luftwaffe during World War II, and the place was essentially abandoned until 1955. The ruined interior was ripped out, and a more utilitarian interior put in its place, rather than attempting to restore the original. Thus when Flanagan Lawrence began work on the building a few years ago, they did not have an historic interior to try to preserve, only an historic exterior.

The end result is neither a recreation of the 1920’s original, nor a restoration of the 1950’s replacement, but something contemporary that references both eras. During the day the interior atrium is somewhat reminiscent of a building in which the advertising men of “The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit” and “Mad Men” would feel at home, all wood paneling and simple, curved geometry. At night however, when those panels are illuminated from within, the effect is to create dazzling, rippling bands of gold stacked up to the ceiling, like a stage set waiting for a Busby Berkeley production featuring The Rockettes, with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers tap dancing down the middle of the room. I must confess, I never went to Shepherd’s Bush when I lived in London, but to see this interior in the evening, and have a cocktail at the bar, I just might, if I lived there now.

Such conversions of lumbering structures that have lost their way are never easy. However in this instance the architects did a tremendous job of bringing new life to a sad shell of a building. Kudos to Flanagan Lawrence for doing such a great job.

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