Showing posts with label cunnilingus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cunnilingus. Show all posts

Monday 19 August 2019

Animals (2019) - Good and bad (mainly, if anything, the latter)

Animals (2019) - Good and bad (mainly, if anything, the latter)

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2019 (17 to 24 October)
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


19 August

Animals (2019) - Good and bad (mainly, if anything, the latter)


In brief :

First, and foremost, this is a film-festival film*, which, with Australian / Irish film-industry funding, has somehow obtained distribution

It may not have been made as a television film, but it could not even 'fill' Screen 3 at The Arts Picturehouse - not that there was no audience, but that Animals felt small, trying to occupy a space, and use silence and its funky score, in a way that just had no impact, and seemed effort with no result. It would work much better on t.v., with its bubbles of out-of-focus street-lighting, glitz, and characters / their positions, which often seem insubstantial

The moments with the wildlife (were they any more than rushes ?) were, so much more so than Dylan Thomas' stuffed fox, would-be portentous - or with a sickening literalism to Who were the animals here ?

Good use of location (an establishing shot, and suitable noises of the sea and its birds, sufficed to make the interior of where Jim lived match that exterior)

Fixation on masturbation and cunnilingus ?

We are to believe / credit that Laura 'is a writer', because she has a poster for Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own** to the left of the desk where she works (let alone, nearby, another image of Ginny)...


In detail :

The film is well enough made and shot, but one takes those as given - although the real or seeming artlessness of an early Yorgos Lanthimos film, Kinetta (2005) may be an impediment to some (in a sense, it is meant to be one), it is part of the affect of the film, and heightens its worth : on the scale of Animals, those things about everything being in focus and lined up, etc., are absent, but that does not make Animals a better film, and Kinetta is arguably far finer despite and /or because of them.

On the Road (2012) scarcely did a worse job, with Sal Paradise, of convincing anyone that he was not only a writer, but also could even - just by soaking it up, and writing it down (i.e. typing onto the probably mythical continuous roll of paper) - self-referentially create what we were seeing :

Except that we know that Jack Kerouac was a published writer, whereas nothing that Laura does suggests that she writes / can write anything beyond note-like observations, and her decade-long pretensions, although the film may feel that we spent that long with them at times, are just irritating. Laura is Frances, in Frances Ha, but Frances (Greta Gerwig) has real emotional reasons why she cannot do what she actually can do, and Laura (Holliday Grainger) has over-indulgent people who listen to her talk about it instead.


[...]



End-notes :

* Very often, 'film-festival films', once so viewed, stay viewed in that way (and with suspicion), and so are not thought of as commercial. Many films of this quality or better do not even get a screening at a significant film festival - a film's being distributed is therefore not, in itself, a measure of its worth.

** The book that, first delivered in two lectures at Cambridge (at Girton and Newnham Colleges), puts a case for why a woman needs space, let alone one who would write, who has to have one in which to do it : A Room of One's Own could almost have been the tag-line for the film ?




Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)

Wednesday 16 October 2013

Descent into raggedness - director's cut

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2013
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


16 October

* Contains spoilery spoilers of a spoiler nature *

* Before getting here, you may have read the version put out by the studio, which is more of a review that can be read before seeing the film / if deciding whether to *


Experimentally, I have rated the film 76 = S : 13 / A : 15 / C : 11 / M : 12 / P : 13 / F : 12 - follow this for explanation...



Meg has issues with sex, seeks to ration it, or to rationalize it - maybe she cannot relate to Nick's desire for cunnilingus : has it ever happened, or does she tease as shown ?

When he touches her - or tries to - there is an exchange of hurts, and we see him pleading to penetrate her, but she wants to sleep

We hear, in an angry moment (after he has accused her of dressing up for the laptop guy, and she has looked affronted, brought out maybe prepared adjectives of the buy being sweaty and so on - a defence ? has she really not dressed up, etc., and it is all just Nick's projection ?) of an infidelity with a student 15 years ago


Initiating, sustaining, enjoying sex / sexual action has become an enormous problem for these two. Nick is attracted by Meg's impulsiveness (having said, just before the quotation, that he likes her when she is like this), and flatters her, when she says that a man was chatting her up, by saying that she is hot, before being reminded that she is cold :

The chasteness of Diana, the allure for Actaeon of seeing her naked, the terrible price. It is not attraction / seduction / temptation with Nick and Meg, but humbling oneself for sex - may I, do I have permission, for what can be offered a glimpse of, then imperiously taken away (Nick's comment of lack of acquaintance with her vagina in the last 5 / 10 years) in self-denying sexual starvation

Maybe the fling 15 years ago is why Nick's latest job was at a former polytechnic in Birmingham (a fall from grace), although we are then talking only 1998 (with scarcely the highest pretended levels of scrutiny and integrity), and there has been a well-trodden path of randy supervisors and directors of studies, and willing undergraduates, that takes in The History Man, Tom Sharpe's books, and probably, between the lines, those of C. P. Snow, not to mention Michael Frayn's Donkeys' Years


This is all interesting. But there is a greater neurosis - on the threshold of the party at Morgan's, Meg is the one wanting to go into it / saying that she wants to go into it. It, though, is not a party party, and she immediately seems like a fish out of water, even saying something quite inept to Morgan's pregnant wife in the long time that we must imagine that Nick allows himself to push off with Morgan (and Morgan does not even think to effect any more than superficial introductions), before finding and meeting his son

Previously, Nick had almost to be dragged into the cemetery, but then, when we see him before Beckettt's memorial, he is / says that he is enjoying it, and wants to find Sartre

When he cannot sleep with Meg, Nick creates a shrine to the things that he loves - through Brodbent, we hear love being talked of, and know that Nick experiences it, although he mistakes helping his / their ? son, by having him at home, with what Meg might want

The flinching, the pain, at hearing about what happened to Morgan's ex-wife is quite unfeigned

Thirty years married doesn't seem long enough, and Nick we can imagine in communes and protests, but not Meg, unless the morbidity of their sex-life is the result of such drives and impulses as the craven way in which we him ask to penetrate her, and they have destroyed each other's simple pleasure in each other as a sexual companion

Introducing Morgan, and Nick's humiliating speech at the dinner, are turned into ways for the film to change direction, and we have to believe in the grace of Meg to hear and approve of Nick making massive admissions about himself and her

I can follow this film to the threshold of this device, but no further, and I see the - admittedly joyous - dancing at the end as acknowledging that it really has nothing to shed on what went before

No, not resolutions for resolutions' sake, but do we suddenly have to divest ourselves of the first half of the film in a way that - although joyous - feels pretty fake ?




Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)