The Last Picture Show (1971)

Why don't you love me like you used to do?

This song, which plays over the credits of Peter Bogdanovich's The Last Picture Show, has so many inferences throughout this film. Relationships, friends, family, even the town itself gets cast aside eventually and the result is a sad, barren dust pile somewhere in Texas that is slowly dying.

This film, shot in black & white for an added feeling of melancholy, reminds me of Jim Jarmusch in its simplistic style, but at the same time looks fitting of the period. Despite being made in 1971, Bogdanovich and designer Polly Platt have created a world so starkly and believably realised that it's hard to tell it was filmed 20 years later. It focuses primarily on the relationship between Sonny (Timothy Bottoms) and Duane (Jeff Bridges), two high-school best friends at that awkward age when all there is to do in small town Americana is hang about the pool hall and try and have sex.

The odd juxtaposition of the 'Wild West' setting and the boring, unfulfilling lives the inhabitants lead make for an unusual setting for such an in-depth character study, but I think the contrast works well. By keeping the film's focus so inward facing, it allows us to get to know the characters more thoroughly. This, I think, give the final act a more affecting impact and the 'climax' is genuinely touching because of it.

It's a low-key, slow burning film which does tend to feel a little directionless at times, but I think this is the whole point. Like the wind rolling in at the start of the film, things just take their time rolling by, both on screen and in small-town life in general.

Dear (Production) Diary....

I've been falling behind a tad on the blogging front lately, mostly because- rubbish excuse, I know- it's been a whirling dervish of activity at the academy recently, and I've been caught in the middle of it. Sorry, I should say away from the academy- because to be honest, despite being involved in filmings, dancings and running-aboutings, I've hardly set foot inside the building at all.

It all started a few weeks ago when I got a call asking to be a third assistant director on Paperskin, one of the grad films. I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but a rude 6:30am awakening indicated that it wasn't gonna be an easy few days.
After making my way to Summerston for 8:30 (OUCH!), I spent most of the day waiting. And fetching stuff. And waiting. And fetching stuff. But, in all honesty, I think I learned more in those few days than I have on anything we've shot so far. I guess with it being a graduation shoot, everything had to be done to the highest standard, and it showed. Yeah, the days were looooong and I didn't actually get to do anything filmish, but I got alot of information about how everything worked on the job. All the fourth years were really helpful, even with questions I thought might've sounded stupid or trivial. After two days of shooting indoors in some divine derelict flats, the last day I was there was in my neck of the woods- Cumbernauld. Outdoors. On a sunny bank holiday. Needless to say much of my time was spent bribing children with sweeties to stay out of shot and "quiet"...no easy feat, especially with my fear of young children. There were some, umm, logistical problems which resulted in lack of van, which meant some equipment had to be stored at my house, which I didn't mind at all- I got to show off all the cameras and lenses and other stuff I didn't know how to work to my mum, and she was dead impressed.

After that, I felt well prepared to take on a shot at production assistant on a film by Gavin Laing in second year. Sam, Julia, Lucy and I were all enlisted to troop around charity shops, trying to drum up donations to make the rented shop set look like...well, a charity shop. We found out pretty quickly that, yeah, most charity shops? Not so charitable. I managed to dig out some old railings from work (again showing off why we needed them to someone external, this time my boss- "Can we go and get the railings from downstairs? Y'know, for the film we're working on?")and managed to acquire enough donations to make it look convincing enough for the camera. The first day's shooting was to take place in Eaglesham- I had noooo idea where it was, although after hearing that it was a wee village outside Glasgow, I thought it'd be lovely. I was wrong. Cut to the first day of shooting, and I'm cycling a mountain bike to the location in the rain, waving down traffic in the rain, and squatting in a ditch by the road looking for cars. In the rain.

Soooo, not so glamorous. Still, it was good to see the downside of filming outdoors- you can have the most perfect location in the world, but nothing will protect you from the elements. I was quite happy though; despite my ill-thought canvas Converse soaking up every drop of boggin' puddle water, I got to take loads of pictures of the countryside. I was there to take continuity and production photos, so totally indulged in having a shot of Paul's SLR and got a tad snap-happy. I even got close enough to my biggest fear- a herd of cows- to take a photo of them. Now THAT'S growth!

The crew decided to forego the outside scenes in the city centre for some interior shots of the shop- a wise move considering I'd started to forget what 'warm and dry' felt like. Unfortunately, there was a small problem with one of the REDs...in that it was broken. Or part of it was, anyway. Oops! They had to make do with attaching a handheld onto the tripod... I hope the gamble paid off, because upon reading the script it was a really lovely, well-written story that will make a wonderful little film! The next day was all interior sets of the shop, so I had to make sure I took alot of photos so we knew where everything went! No pressure...but thankfully my 200-odd pictures from the day before were enough to recreate as close to the original layout as we could get...I hope, anyway!

I missed the final day of shooting due to orientation for the Commonwealth Games handover ceremony in India. Yes, INDIA. I wasn't too keen on going initially because I thought I'd missed my chance to apply, and didn't think I could afford to take the time off work, but after a couple of days I'd made up my fickle mind that I really do want to go after all... As long as they don't base their final cast decisions on my attempts at dancing on the Friday morning. I have long been aware that I am as graceful as the wreckage of a car crash, but it was made PAINFULLY aware to me how bad I was when surrounded by dancers, musical theatre students and contemporary performance students. Clearly people who have long been trained in movement without falling over your own feet, constantly turning in the wrong direction and being unable to remember the simplest dance routine. Maybe they could just hide me at the back on the actual day of the performance....?

This week, it's back to focussing on our end of first year films. It's the first proper film we've made from a script written by one of the class, and I think we've got a great little production team to bring Harry's script to life. I landed the role of camera op, and along with Amelie on lighting I reckon we'll have this cinematography thing nailed!...I hope....I wish! It's really exciting being a part of the production in my own class, because I'll actually be a part of making the damn thing in the first place. This is the part where I say "...and I'll take everything I learned on the other shoots with me". Well, I'm going to, because as cheesy and cliched as it may be, I really did learn alot from working on other shoots. Not even just about using equipment, but everything- working with actors, dressing sets, continuity, the ups & downs of location shooting and the endless headache of production responsibilities. I think I'm a little bit closer to finding out what I want to do when I'm all grown up and paying council tax...which can only be a good thing, right?

Production notes

Over the last week, in between filming, shmoozing with grade-A celebrity film makers and, y'know, learning, we've finally been having our Introduction to Production classes with Abigail. It's always been somewhat of a mystery to me what the role of a producer actually is, and I'd semi-considered it being a path I might follow in the future. My number one passion is writing, but unfortunately often I feel like once a script has been commissioned, the writer's role is done. Sidelined. In a "d'you wanna maybe mark up the tapes" kind of way. Soooo, I figured production might be the kind of interesting, hands-on role I've been looking for.

I was wrong.

Don't get me wrong, I've learned more about production in the last week than I have in my whole 23 years. Abigail is incredibly thorough, explaining in detail every potential obstacle the producer might come across (and the form to fill out just in case). There's so much more to the job than I could ever get my head around; my organisational/budgeting skills can best be summed up by a familiar phrase including the words 'hangover', 'brewery' and 'couldn't even organise'. Financially, I am an absolute mess, and would love the kind of discipline it requires to fund even a student short film. There is far more involved than I ever imagined, but the whole thing seemed to technical and..well.....un-creative. It's left me feeling more than a little bereft of ideas, and somewhat lost for what to do. I'm by no means the best in the class at camera (seriously, I'd be lucky to be in the Top 11, although not for lack of trying). I like editing but I cannot keep up with even using Macs instead of Windows and my attempts at editing our Home film left me with a killer migraine and a seriously depleted sense of self worth. And now, it appears that producing will find me out of my depth also. It's good to be learning the complexities of the job, but I simply don't feel like I have the savvy or know-how to muddle my way through a production checklist. As far as producers go, I'm probably more likely to be coming up with the next Springtime For Hitler. So where do my actual talents lie then....? I only wish I knew.....

A Moment Of Realisation Is Worth A Thousand Prayers.

As the tired old cliche goes, you should never meet your heroes. They'll only disappoint you. Clearly, those who came up with said phrase had never met Oliver Stone.
My old uni, in Aberdeen, had an annual literary festival, which, when I was there, featured a guest seminar from my literary hero, Irvine Welsh. Being the trampy, underfunded excuse for a uni that it was, there were no freebies, for ANYONE. And I was so broke, I couldn't afford the £5 ticket price for An Audience With Mr Trainspotting. So I literally could not contain my joy when I learned that 'Oli' was to be making his way towards RSAMD to collect an honorary doctorate.

I'd first learned of the World's Worst-Kept Secret when we were told during our 3-day induction, waaaaaay back in September, that he'd apparently arranged to come the year before, but had cancelled at the 11th hour. I'd like to kid on and say I was being 'cool' and not holding my breath for a return, but let's face it, I was practically blue. I cannot emphasise enought the effect that Natural Born Killers has had on my life. Everything about it, from the story, acting, camera work, the cast, everything...is just perfect. It inspired the kind of films I want to make. The combination of Quentin Tarantino's (admittedly heavily bastardised) story, coupled with the trippy direction of Oliver Stone, plus the brilliantly nuanced performances from all cast members, solidified this film as one of my absolute favourites after seeing it only once. The prfound emotional effect this film had on me is second maybe only to Fight Club; which I watched on VHS and immediately rewound and watched again the first time I saw it.

I'd been most disappointed by recent phoned-in publicity appearances by another favourite of mine, Tim Burton, promoting Alice In Wonderland. Call me controversial, but I really don't think Burton has directed a decent film since Sleepy Hollow. I'd also heard that Oliver Stone was the temperamental type, and that you never knew which 'Oli' to expect. I couldn't have been more wrong. For the first time, I felt that my class were truly a part of the Academy. Not just in the background, not filming a promo for another course, but a real, integrated, sitting up the front, big deal. As we were in row B, with no one in row A, we were practically within breathing space of thr man himself. I felt an odd sense of pride, seeing Adam address Oliver before he received his doctorate, and the same when Andy came on for the Q&A! I found Oliver Stone to be a fascinating subject, grounded in his political beliefs, unwilling to compromise in making the films he believed in, and able to take critical 'failures' in his stride. I did feel like somewhat of a total fangeek at times, particularly when there was cause for applause and I found myself on the verge of a standing ovation, slapping my hands together like a retarded seal. But really, when you're watching your hero watch a montage of his movies, accomapnied by a live Adagio For Strings?.....nah, I really don't think it gets better than that.

Life Is A Candid Cabaret, Old Chum

According to Google Image Search, this is a cabaret performer.

I love the idea of cabaret. For me it calls to mind images of underground bars in 1940s Berlin, all vulgar glamour and dirty opulence. Having never set foot inside the venue at Oran Mor before, I was rather excited at how much the low stone ceilings, dim lights and intimately small setting looked so similar to my dream. I'd heard nothing but good things about the MA Musical Theatre students' annual Candid Cabaret, and having seen a few minutes of their shows in the cafe bar, was rather quite excited to see the full repertoire.

After falling asleep halfway through Russel Crowe mangling the English/Oirish accent as Robin Hood, I needed something exciting. After lugging all the gear into Gerrie's van and lugging myself into a taxi (I'd spent the night before in the Eurohostel; it's not great for a quality night's sleep). There didn't seem to be much to be done, since all the performances were on the same stage we pretty much just had to set up the cameras and only really worry about changing tapes in between each act. Simples! As this was my first night filming, I sure as hell wasn't going to get stuck on audience cam, and made sure I got myself a cushy number with the wide-shot camera. My mum, auntie, cousins, nan and boyfriend were all coming to see the show and I wanted to at least look like I knew what I was doing....

The show kicked off on time, after a slight panic over having to go outside and give a ticket to the Ross who turned up at 7:29....honestly, he should know that I have a tendency to cause huge panic over small things! The first act came on and, although it took me a while to kind of get used to what was going on, I thoroughly enjoyed and found it really funny and well put-together. Unfortunately, some random girl (she may have been associated with us in some way, I don't know) came over 10 minutes in claiming there was no feed from my camera, before running off knocking into it and causing me to unknowingly shoot the rafters for 10 minutes, whilst chasing some imaginary girl and trying to scramble backstage to find Gerrie. Thankfully Flick was on hand to assist, so I managed to get her to find him and could return to my camera...which I found myself being oddly protective of; had it not been such a quiet, intimate venue I'd have been wailing "watch the camera!" like a demon banshee, rather than hissing it Lord Voldemort-style at anyone who DARED to try and squeeze past.

Once I got myself sorted with a pair of earphones and all feed problems were solved, I could get on with enjoying the show. Being on the wide-shot camera meant I wasn't constantly having to move around or zoom in and out, so could enjoy the show without too much distraction. Good thing too, at some points I was trying to hold in laughter so much that the camera would shake a little bit. I was thoroughly impressed by the quality of the performances; even from first-year students. The comedy was funny, the songs were catchy and you could tell every performer had put alot of work and love into their acts. I worried a bit about what my wee nan would make of the mostly risque subject matter, but even she was hooting away at songs like "You're A Skanky Whore". Having not know what to expect, there wasn't really much I could tell the family about before coming but they absolutely loved it. The Ross even went so far as to describe it as "like Glee, but actually good".

Sadly, it was all over too quickly and the place cleared out quickly enough for us to make a fast de-rig. Luckily this time, it was because I had to make it from the West End back to Cumbernauld, and not because I didn't like the show. Phew! Everything seemed to go without a hitch and all of the audience, cast and crew had a ball. I'll definitely be reserving myself a wee ticket for next year, as I think filming the event is a first-year only job.

Oh, and special mention to my dear momma, who when one performer said "let's hear it for the lighting and sound guys!", shouted back "AND THE CAMERA CREW TOO!". You gotta love 'em.

Who's Afraid Of Creepy-Crawlies?

When it comes to films, the worst thing someone can say to me is "you don't wanna watch it". Whether it be scary, violent, disturbed or just plain bizarre, it's something childlike in me that makes me want it even more. And so, since Harry...err.. 'treated' us to a sneak preview of the trailer, I have been desperate to see the latest in gross, torturous body-horror... The Human Centipede.
I'd never heard of it it until seeing the trailer, which seemed to give everyone else the serious heebie-jeebies. So, I decided to read more about it. The big drive of the advertising campaign is that it's "100% medically accurate", which after seeing it, I can kind of believe. Everything in it was so clinical and calculated, despite not seeing any of the actual operation. I like body-horror films like David Cronenberg's The Fly, which the director Tom Six cites as an inspiration for this creepy crawlie nightmare. Japanese horror is also included as a 'reference' and like I said in class, I can definitely see aspects of Takeshi Miike's Audition in this film- one shot in particular struck me as being lifted straight out of Audition, and not just because it involved a Japanese guy.
For the uninitiated, I'll sum it up as briefly and as..um..nicely?...as I can..

Two American tourists, Lynsay and Jenny, are in Germany as part of their 'European road trip'. In film terms then, they are exactly the kind of fodder ripe for some torture. And wouldn't you know, on their way to a club one night they find themselves with a flat tyre in the middle of the woods. After hours of waiting and wandering, they stumble upon the home of temperamental surgeon Dr. Heiter- a world-renowned surgeon with great success in the separation of conjoined twins. However, the good doctor has been planning a 'reversal' of sorts- rather than separate 2 humans, he wants to join them together. Having already performed the operation on his dogs, he wants to go 'live', and the two girls are exactly what he needs. Adding a Japanese tourist- who literally cannot speak a word of English- to this whole sorry mess completes the final link in Heiter's twisted triptych.

He explains to the unlucky trio how he will severe the ligaments in their knees, forcing them to crawl, before connecting them using their digestive systems, mouths and...uh...well, the 'opposite' end. (I've had trouble with using this word before, but you know what one I mean). I initially thought the film would be more centred on the operation, but you don't actually see that much of it. Aside from some mild tooth-removal, and a rear-end Chelsea smile, very little of the procedure is actually shown on screen. In fact, the emphasis seems to be more on sadistic humour than gross-out explicit horror. As such, there's a far more 'human' element to the film; rather than just being a slash-happy Hostel rip-off, the emphasis is placed on how the 'patients' cope after the procedure. The operation seems to be more of a plot device to get to the aftermath, rather than the focal point.

Nonetheless, the film tries hard to deliver on its premise, and overall it's pretty successful. Although it's undoubtedly uneasy viewing, and really quite disturbing, the premise is at least original. I like that alot of the emphasis is placed on the characters' rehabilitation as a 'human insect', despite falling short on the gore. There are a few genius touches to it, such as making Japanese tourist Akihiro Kitamura the 'head' of the beast. He can't speak English, and the doctor apparently doesn't speak Japanese, so when he demands to know what is going on, there's no way for him to be understood. The doctor speaks English, cruelly teasing the girls, who can understand him, but are..."unable"...to answer back. The contiued close-ups on their eyes convey real desparation and futility. When Kitamura realises the situation is a lost cause, his words are even more traumatic because of the language barrier- he doesn't know what he's been involved in or why, and no one knows what he believes he died for.

There are some other scenes which fold to whatever strange sense of 'conformity' this film has, and shows us something erring on the disgusting side- once scene in particular which demonstrates the 'feeding' system of the centipede is definitely not one for the squeamish. Although largely covered in bandages, it's the eyes of the characters which give away the sense of degradation and acceptance at the same time.

OK, so it's not exactly light-hearted family entertainment, but when the premise is so bold and exploitative, why not treat the film's actual content the same? I couldn't shake off the niggling feeling that this would have more than lived up to its premise if it were part of the French Extreme wave. In saying that, for a mainstream audience it's probably sick and disturbing enough... I just couldn't help but feeling a little short-changed. Still, it's well worth a watch for all fans of horror and the grotesquely named 'torture porn' genre; despite its apparent shortcomings it is an effectively creepy body horror.

I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that The Human Centipede (Final Sequence), which promises a 12-person chain, will live up to expectations!

"Not As Bad As Some Westerns"

Urgh, even Mrs Mallory's face is mega-irritating....

OK, I hate to jump aboard the cliche train, but I have to agree with the rest of the class. I. Did Not. Hate. Stagecoachh. Aaahhhh. It took alot for me to say that, believe me. I dunno why I have such an aversion to the genre. The only 'Western' that I'll admit to really loving is The Proposition, and I didn't realise it was a Western I was going to see. I knew it was written by Nick Cave, that was enough for me.

But yeah, after much debacle over trying to arrange screenings and share the DVD, I decided just to watch Stagecoach on Youtube. Which meant having to watch it in a series of ten-minute videos. I didn't actually find it too irritating after a while; in fact each scene ended on a 'hook' which did actually make me want to find out what was coming. I appreciated it from a writer's point of view, especially after the classed with Richard...we've been having it drummed into us all year, whether it be film or television writing, that you have to have a hook to keep your audience intrigued. Otherwise, what's the point? What reason is there to keep watching, if there's nothing making you want to?

In this sense, Stagecoach was very much a character-driven screenplay, and the characters, although obviously contrived to be clashing archetypes, all complement each other well. They were all from different social classes, and were fairly typical of Western stereotypes- the alcoholic doctor, the respectable soldier's wife, the prostitute, the crooked banker, John Wayne... The difference was, it wasn't just white people in white hats shooting 'savages' in headdresses. Essentially it's a 'road movie', probably among one of the first. I love road movies, like Easy Riders, Fear & Loathing and Thelma & Louise, which is probably why I didn't mind Stagecoach too much. I really don't like Westerns because mostly, they seem to show white people taking over an area, chasing out the natives and calling them 'savages' and taking every opportunity to have a shoot-out.. it's very 'masculine', and smacks a little of big boys and their toys. Yaaawwwnn... I remember my grandad being a big fan of the old classics like She Wore A Yellow Ribbon, and them ALWAYS being on, so maybe I just inadvertently OD'd on them when I was a kid.

I liked how the majority of the film is about the intereaction of the characters, particularly the burgeoning romance between prostitute Dallas and The Ringo Kid (played by, surprise surprise, The Duke). He falls for her from the beginning, referring to her as a 'lady' when the others in the coach won't even offer her a drink of water. I liked how the other male characters began to gravitate towards her and treat her as a human being. One character I never warmed towards was Mrs Mallory, who barely even acknowledged all Dallas's attempts to help her when she went into labour. She was a really boring, bland character and not even that nice in doing so.
Of course, there's the obligatory chase sequence between the Geronimo and the coach, but even this is filmed largerly from the perspective of the characters in the stage coach, rather than say, the cavalry. It's an impressively shot sequence; I appreciated it more after reading online about the difficulties involved with sound recording in Westerns. They hadn't made the transition from silent to sound particularly well, and John Ford was told he'd be committing career suicide. It's testament to the willingness and vision of early film makers, which I don't think there's enough of now.

Since we see and learn so much about the characters, it heightens the tension in the chase sequence, and adds to the excitement of 'who'll live or die'. I found myself actually wanting to see whether the coach would make its destination, and what would happen to the characters when they got there. Would Dallas and Ringo ride off into the sunset, or would he be taken back to jail? Is Mrs Mallory's husband alive? While they may not all be particularly sympathetic or likeable, they are un doubtedly involving. I can quite honestly say, had we not been asked to blog about this film, I'd never have watched it. I doubt there's many more films of the genre which would involve me in the same way and spend so much time on character exposition, but it was a good example of early film making that worked when really, it shouldn't have. Its year of release was 1939, considered by many to be the greatest year in cinema history (whatever, I still say it's 1994), so it's undoubtedly impressive that it managed to stand out even among such competition.