'New' Irish Cinema - The Paradox of 'Turning Green'

You know, we like to be friendly round here, but if you've been in the neighbourhood for any length of time, you'll also know that I often grieve the lack of imagination in most films.  Robots kill some people/people kill more robots; abs-ridden guy meets cute girl/conflict/unification; bloke changes, you know the deal.  So it's a pleasant surprise to see 'Turning Green', your none-too-typical American boy grows up in a small West of Ireland village/competes with the local gangster by selling porn magazines (illegal in the eyes of the State and shameful in the eyes of the Church)/and makes witty comments about what's wrong with the land of my birth while Timothy Hutton, an actor I like a great deal, snarls at him from under a pork pie hat.

'Turning Green' was made four years ago - a runner up in the first season of 'Project Greenlight' - and is only now being released, with the absurdly misleading poster above.  To tell you the truth, it's one of the strangest films I've seen - on the one hand trying to make a decent job of assessing Ireland's paradox, or at least its paradox thirty years ago, when the film is set: the fecund literary culture and freedom narratives of Beckett, Joyce, and Heaney co-mingling with the obsessive puritanism enshrined by the State; on the other, it offers a series of cliches about 'Oirishness' - the angry priest, the aul fella who seems glued to the end of the bar, the visions of Mary turned into a kind of foreplay.  It doesn't help that the movie seems unsure of its tone - is it a dramatic entertainment in the tradition of 'The Quiet Man', a comedy in the style of 'Waking Ned', or a gangster thriller that should have been re-titled 'Mystic O'River'?  You get parts of all three here; with a shade or two of Tarantino, and a little Woody Allen neurotic cynicism in the voiceover.

Writer-directors John G Hoffman and Michael Aimette do enough to make this northern Irish writer laugh - sometimes; but also enough to make me feel condescended to, sometimes.  Ireland has been poor, sure; Ireland has been oppressive for some, absolutely; Ireland has a long string of little villages where everybody knows everybody else, of this there is no doubt.  But the lack of any empathetic characters in 'Turning Green' has the effect of suggesting there's no reason to care; and for me, Ireland needs a vision of what we can be, rather than yet more dwelling on what's wrong with us.

And yet, I found myself almost beguiled by the depiction of my home; and grateful that I wasn't watching another 'Troubles' film or a 'Ryan's Daughter'-style over-romanticisation - there's a smart little film trying to escape from 'Turning Green', one in which the double standard of moral hypocrisy is the heart of the story.  It's not a stretch to say that cultures that freak out over nudity while people are being killed in their name need a mirror; 'Turning Green' offers a very blunt one in an exchange of dialogue that, for me, was worth the weaknesses of the rest of the movie.  When an old man is having trouble describing the package he's gone to pick up from the post office, the domineering priest in line behind our anti-hero James (played with appropriate detachment by Donal Gallery) huffs and puffs about how ridiculous it is to be wasting his time.  James responds with a line that one imagines was the writers' intended motto for the whole film:

'If these people aren't bombing women and children or starving the homeless, they're making small talk at the post office'.

Despite the fact that the film doesn't hang together, glimpses of this coruscating raised eyebrow can be seen throughout; 'Turning Green' seems not be a complete work, but it has signs of moving in the right direction.  And it's a better film than I'd make right now.  (For what it's worth, 'Turning Green' pales in comparison to another film that carries similar themes - the far superior 'Garage', Lenny Abrahamson's Tarkovskian/Rohmeresque film about an Irish petrol station attendant and the encroachment of the Celtic Tiger.)

Meantime, in other Irish news, 'Prods and Pom-Poms', the lovely short documentary about Sandy Row cheerleaders will get its local TV debut for Northern Ireland viewers tomorrow night - you can see it on UTV at 10.35pm, Friday 6th November; and if you're outside the reach of northern Irish television transmitters, DVDs are still available from its makers.

Goodbye Solo: The Best Film Released This Year (So Far)

'Goodbye Solo' (I know I've mentioned it before - but it's now out on DVD in the US and just released to cinemas in the UK and Ireland) is the most frustrating film I’ve seen in ages, and also the best film I’ve seen released this year.  Ramin Bahrani, recently anointed by no less a credible source than Roger Ebert as ‘the great new American film-maker’ had a lot to live up to after his stunning movies about the economic fringes of the US immigrant experience.  ‘Man Push Cart’ and ‘Chop Shop’ tell human, and humane stories about the most mundane of circumstances – the need to make money to survive; but they do it in a way that conveys such urgency, and is completely without cliché that they take on the propulsive force of the most exciting action films.

‘Goodbye Solo’ is set in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, a tobacco town not far from where I live, enervated by the collapse of other industries, and now home to, among others, a large contingent of African men, many of whom drive taxis.  As in so many other cities, many of these taxi drivers are highly qualified individuals, who occupied a very different social stratum in their homeland.  Coming to America may have granted them a better life – but America has not been as good to them as they hoped.

And so, Souleymane from Senegal (Solo for short) drives folk around Winston-Salem, and picks up William, an elderly white man, who makes an unusual request.  He wants to be driven to a mountain range in two weeks’ time, and be left there, no questions asked.  He will pay handsomely for the journey, and for the silence.  It is obvious that he intends this to be a one way trip for himself.  Solo – and we – can’t stand it.  Who is this man, William?  Why does he want to die?  Why does he go to the movies so often?  Why does he become violent when queried?

And who is Solo?  What happened in Senegal to make him want to leave?  Does he love his girlfriend?  Will he stay with her?  What are his dreams?  What does he believe?

The thing is, ‘Goodbye Solo’ never explicitly tells you the answers to these questions; but when it’s over, you know.  You know that there is nothing more important than love; that love necessarily presupposes the pain of loss; that the question of will and intention is at the heart of what makes us human.  In a recent interview with the director, I asked him if his film challenges the myth of liberal interventionism – the notion that all problems can be solved by an outside force imposing its will.  His response put my all-too-fertile critical pretentions in their place.  ‘Goodbye Solo’ has no politics, he said – it just wants to ask what would happen if two very different men met at the right time, in the right place; I’d add that it wants to ruminate on the loneliness that post-modern, post-industrial life has bred for so many; most of all, it wants to tell a bloody good story, and tell it more richly, and more believably than anything else I’ve seen this year.  It upset me, but it also made me feel more alive.  I can’t recommend it highly enough.

This review was originally published in Third Way magazine - check out the magazine here.

Restorative Justice Will Change the World: Find Out How

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtTgGUv1OYU] Quick heads-up on a fantastic event taking place north of LA in January.  My friends Elaine Enns and Ched Myers are running their annual Bartimaeus Co-operative Ministries Institute - five days of intensive engagement with questions of spirituality, restorative justice and peacemaking.  Ched and Elaine will be joined by Rev Nelson Johnson of the Beloved Community Center in Greensboro, NC; and Rev Murphy Davis from the Open Door Community in Atlanta, GA.  These are seriously cool people - with huge experience in radical activism for the common good. It's not stretching a point to say that they are at the cutting edge of civil rights work today.

The Institutes that Ched and Elaine host are renowned for engendering life-altering experiences; axes of change for the participants who find their hopes revolutionised as answers to the questions of how change can be achieved in the world become clearer through a week of interaction with others who are committed to the same path.  The Institute takes place from January 18th-22nd, 2010, in the character-filled village of Oak View, where I have spent many a day soaking up the atmosphere of one of the funkiest neighborhoods I know.  It's limited to 30 participants, so you know you'll have a meaningful and very substantial experience - but you probably should apply as soon as possible.  And whether or not this will enhance your visit, I should probably tell you that I may be around for some of the time too - I'm co-facilitating a film & spirituality retreat on the weekend of 22nd-23rd January in Los Angeles, beginning just a few hours after the Institute ends, so you may find that you can go to the Institute and get to the our retreat too.  More information from BCM here.

Problem of the Day: Has Martin Scorsese made a Ghost Story? And if so, What am I going to do about it?

So I was up early this morning having slept restlessly after watching the end of 'Battlestar Galactica' last night (no spoilers - suffice it to say that fans of Richard Dawkins and Thomas Merton may find themselves both satisfied; I certainly was).  Cylons colonised my repose (for some reason the early models, one of whose bosses is depicted above, were the stuff of my childhood nightmares), but I managed to avoid the bad dream I might otherwise have had when I was younger and less apt to resist imagining the imminent doom of the planet.  I have a sensitive constitution, as they say.  Which segues neatly into the reason for this post: why I am about to let you, dear reader, down.

Over at The Film Talk, my genial co-host and I are busy as usual in TFT Central, grafting away at the plans for Episode 98, which will - must - feature 'This is It' (and if you heard our preview at the end of Episode 97 you'll know just how much we're looking forward to that particular endeavor, although early reviews are surprisingly good), and 'Paranormal Activity', (image below) the once-every-ten-years-straight-outta-the-gate-micro-budget-huge-audience-scare-the-life-from-you-neo-Blair-Witch-Project, cleverly marketed with midnight screenings before opening wide wide WIDE.  It will be unavoidable for the next few weeks.

And here's the problem:

I hate scary movies.

I spent the better part of 'The Sixth Sense' (and, yes, before you jump in, there was a better part - and we tend to like Shyamalan round here, no matter how unpopular it makes us) employing the time-honored tactic of removing my glasses and staring at my left foot, thereby reducing the height that I would be propelled out of my seat when whatever Mr S wanted to frighten me with appeared on screen.

I got as far as being picked up by my friend Alex and half-way to the theatre before I decided that I couldn't go through with our previous arrangement to see 'The Exorcism of Emily Rose'; I was sure it would be an ordeal.  (Note to the snark police: I mean for good reasons; I'm told the movie's not bad at all.)

I even found my viewing of 'The Black Hole' at Escapism last week to be problematic - Maximillian Schell made me jump on more than one occasion, and the final sequence in which he is possessed by the spirit of his pet robot to rule over Hades is just about as much as my resolution can take.

So, to the presenting issue:

Jett wants us to review 'Paranormal Activity' this week.  I can't face seeing it.  I think I can address the ethical question by carrying out one of our patented q&a reviews; and I'll devote some serious attention to thinking 'em up; but I just don't think I can sustain the emotional assault course of watching the movie.

This isn't just for reasons of psycho-spiritual balance, although I do tend to think that there's enough struggle in most days to make me less than apt to subject myself to more for entertainment's sake.  And I'm not averse to horror films per se - 'The Exorcist', 'The Shining', 'Quiz Show' (trust me - it's a horror movie about the potential collapse of a man's soul) each find their way into my roster of re-watchable movies, most of the time.  No, I guess my resistance to 'Paranormal Activity' resides in a combination of the emotional terrain questions I've just raised, and the fact that it seems this apparently very accomplished film chooses to present the mystery of spirit as a threat.  We've mentioned on the show before that no less a philosophical artist than Stanley Kubrick considered the tale of Jack Torrance, the hotel, and the tricycle to be 'an optimistic story', because, he said, any story that posits the existence of an afterlife for human beings must therefore include hope.  Fair point, Stanley, even though I think he was slightly joking.  Of course, 'The Shining' doesn't exactly present its vision in an optimistic way.  Nor, I'm told, does 'Paranormal Activity'.  [SPOILER BELOW THE PICTURE]

We see a young couple killed by ghosts.  It's supposed to thrill us.  Next week, we will watch angels try to save humans from their selfishness in 'Wings of Desire'.  It will feel transcendent to watch it again.  It will thrill me.  And I don't think I'll have missed anything by not seeing 'Paranormal Activity'.

Now, I've read that Orin Peli, the director of 'Paranormal Activity' used to be afraid of ghosts, and that he made the movie as an attempt at catharthsis.  Good for him.  I'm pretty sure, however, that it wouldn't be cathartic for me.

So here are my five questions to you - I'd appreciate any advice you can give:

Can any of you convince me to see 'Paranormal Activity' before we record on Friday morning?

What is the purpose of horror fiction?

Does horror on film create, reduce, nurture, or ignore horror in real life?

Is it a good thing to pay to be frightened?

And, given that Martin Scorsese's 'Shutter Island' looks like a serial killer/scary mental institution/murderous-rage-from-beyond-the-grave film, is there any advice you can offer to help me prepare for the inevitable repeat of my pre-emptive angst when that movie is released next year?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYVrHkYoY80]

Monsoon Wedding: 'There's a temple right in the middle of the driveway'

The good folks at the Criterion Collection have set a new standard for themselves with their edition of Mira Nair's 2001 'Monsoon Wedding', out today, and, if it wasn't for the fact that they're giving us 'Wings of Desire' in a couple of weeks, it would be my choice for simply the best DVD release of the year.

I remember being exhilirated by the film when I saw it in Belfast - a mostly handheld family soap opera centering on the microcosm of all human life that takes place around a Delhi wedding, that also manages to take in the impact of globalisation, the economic transformation of India, sexual identity, the re-interpretation of religious traditions to accommodate modernity, but most of all the question of how love on earth is possible.  For four days it feels like the whole world has arrived in India to dance, to fight, to eat, to complain, to stress out, to wear extraordinary colors and carry out the tensest of rituals: a family gathering.

And so we get Old and New India scattered in our direction, English and Hindi in the same sentence, remixed Bollywood dance tunes underscoring ancient rituals (flowers arranged as if their lives depended on it, mothers-in-law hiding the fact that they smoke, motivations mixed).  It's utterly exuberant, but far deeper than that: this is about what India is really like.  It's kinetic enough to feel like a rehearsal for 'Slumdog Millionaire', its scope wide enough to invoke the spirit of Robert Altman, its high drama mingled with a smidgen of magic is undeniably sourced from Fellini.  (While it's become fashionable to detract from 'Slumdog', I'm still a fan (with reservations); but there's a scene of a boy with an eyepatch carrying coconut halves through the rain in 'Monsoon Wedding' that's as evocative than anything I saw in this year's Best Picture winner.) Nair knows when to up the emotional ante (to 'milk it', as she says on the erudite and illuminating commentary track); her cinematographer Declan Quinn arrives at a representation of these people and this place that makes you feel like you're there (and was to repeat this technique for 'Rachel Getting Married' last year, a film that could be considered a sister to 'Monsoon Wedding'); the music and editing dovetail perfectly.

Nair's early work was in the theatre, and she says that with the wedding scene she wanted to create 'an enormous drama in one night'.  It's obvious that in making this film she organised things so that something approximating real life would happen on screen.  And you're into it from the opening frames; totally compelled by these people who remind you of yourself, even if you feel that you have nothing in common with their rituals or culture.  What's most compelling is how there are so many well-rounded characters - Naseeruddin Shah's patriarch chief among them, granting his role dignity, soulfulness, authority, and - the hardest thing - a moment of change that feels completely convincing.

Now, I just got married, so I may be allowing the residue of sentimentality that derives from that day to prejudice me in favor of this movie; I'd counter that by saying I liked it when I was single too...It's a genre-defying film patched together from Bollywood/Hollywood romance, musicals, a bit of psychological thriller here, a family soap opera there.  It will make you cry and laugh, and think about your own family while it teaches a gentle lesson about how the world is changing, and the place of India in the world (it shouldn't be a surprise that Steven Spielberg sees the future of Dreamworks as intimately bound with the country).  Most of all, though, 'Monsoon Wedding' portrays the mad courage that it takes to enter into love with other people; it's liberating to imagine that life could be like this.

Criterion's edition includes several short documentaries and fiction films from Nair, and a crop of thoughtful interviews, alongside the requisite essay; there's almost nothing you could imagine being left out of the supplements.  It's a fantastic edition of a wonderful film that repays repeat viewings.

*Images courtesy Criterion Collection.