Life in One Chord (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Life in One Chord (2025) – M. Gordon

Shayne P. Carter is probably best known for leading the Flying Nun band Straitjacket Fits in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, as singer/guitarist/songwriter.  They were part of a New Zealand music scene (along with the Chills, the Clean, the Bats, the Verlaines, etc.) that became popular in the college radio scene in the US while I was a d.j.  I don’t think I ever saw them live back then but I admit that they weren’t my favourites from the scene, tending toward something more dramatic, possibly like arena rock (if Flying Nun could ever reach that scale), which wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. That said, songs like “She Speeds” and “Hail” were on heavy rotation in my world.  I didn’t know them at the time but Carter’s earlier band, the DoubleHappys, fit my indie-rock mold better (I discovered them later). Perhaps the difference was in Carter’s collaborators, trading bassist and songwriting partner Wayne Elsey for David Wood (bass) and Andrew Brough (guitar/vocals), retaining drummer John Collie. Tragically, Elsey had been killed while on tour, falling from a train in Carter’s presence (they were both only 21), which had a traumatic impact and affected Carter’s life as well as his musical direction.  A moving single, “Randolph’s Going Home” (in collaboration with Peter Jefferies), was Carter’s way of paying tribute to his friend and documenting the tragedy.  Later, Straitjacket Fits got signed to Arista Records before imploding and subsequently Carter founded Dimmer who have had continued success in New Zealand.  In 2019, Carter published his autobiography which inspired filmmaker Margaret Gordon to track him down to make a film out of it.  Like many Kiwis, Gordon has spent time in Melbourne and has contacts with some of my friends who were drawn to collaborate on the film (Reece Sanders worked on motion graphics and Simon Wright helped with some editing, I think).  When the producers struggled to afford to pay for the music rights for some of the clips, I contributed $50 to their kickstarter campaign (and have my name in the credits – is this a conflict of interest for this review?). Although I didn’t get to see the film on the big screen when local shows happened here last year, I did see Carter’s solo show at the Northcote Social Club (which was great). I also bought his solo album from 2016 (Offsider) on bandcamp, which is a stark piano-based affair, an instrument Carter apparently taught himself for this release (recommended!); he’s also recorded with an orchestra, provided accompaniment to stage performances, and generally taken artistic challenges and risks rather than played it safe.  I finally had the chance to watch the film on Amazon Prime last night and, having spent the last year refamiliarizing myself with Carter and his music, I found this a deep and moving experience.  He’s an amiable character, funny and self-deprecating despite his success. Beyond the music (which is well-documented here from the early Dunedin scene to beyond), Gordon’s film takes us into Carter’s personal experiences growing up half-Maori/half Pakeha (European), feeling that he didn’t belong in either culture.  Since he didn’t feel comfortable reading passages from his memoir aloud for the film, he recommended NZ newsreader Carol Hirschfeld to do this instead, an odd conceit but well explained (and which also informs us a bit more about Carter’s character and the walls of defence he has erected, which may also include his humour). At any rate, I am pleased to say that the doco is never less than engaging, finding a way through editing, music, graphics, found and shot footage (visiting old haunts), and carefully chosen talking heads (archival and new) to flesh out Carter’s story and the adjacent stories of his bandmates and other scenesters (he volunteered as a carer for Chris Knox after the latter’s stroke!). This is a film and an artist that you should definitely check out!  I’ve been re-evaluating Straitjacket Fits and Dimmer now in this new enriched light.

Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger (2024)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger (2024) – D. Hinton

Martin Scorsese is omnipresent talking about film, particularly classic films and film preservation. He has 493 “self” credits on iMDb which is probably an underestimate.  Occasionally, he has made his own documentaries or essay films about his relationship with cinema and the influence of movies he’s seen on his own oeuvre, such as A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese Through American Movies (1995) or My Voyage to Italy (1999).  This time, as directed by David Hinton, he talks us through his feelings about the films of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger (and their production company The Archers).  I’m also a big fan of this duo – there are 16 reviews on my two blogs for films directed by Powell and often also written by Pressburger. I gave 5 stars to The Thief of Bagdad (1940), I Know Where I am Going (1945) and Black Narcissus (1947) and 4.5 stars to The Edge of the World (1937), A Canterbury Tale (1944), A Matter of Life and Death (1946), and Peeping Tom (1960). Scoresese has a particular affinity for the ballet films, The Red Shoes (1948; 4 stars) and The Tales of Hoffmann (1951; which I still haven’t watched all the way through) as well as The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943; which I need to watch again and review). He narrates his way through all the films with a healthy dose of clips and also links them to choices he made in his own films (primarily Raging Bull, 1980). He highlights the risks they took -- their experiments with plot, Technicolour, composition – and their fierce independence (leading to many ruptures with producers and companies). Scorsese also discusses his real interpersonal relationship with Powell who became a friend and mentor and who eventually married Scorsese’s longtime editor Thelma Schoonmaker. He talks a lot about Powell’s love for England and his embodiment of the stereotypical English reserve.  Pressburger, a Hungarian Jew who moved to Berlin and then escaped to England, also gets his fair share of behind-the-scenes stories and clips. In all, it’s a touching and insightful tour through the Archers’ body of work, although inevitably it contains an arc that moves from success to decline and disregard. Fortunately, Scorsese isn’t the only voice heralding the cinematic output of this great duo (and they were finally re-appreciated in their lifetimes). If you haven’t checked out any of their great films, what’s stopping you?

We Jam Econo (2005)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

We Jam Econo (2005) – T. Irwin

I’m pretty sure I didn’t really appreciate the Minutemen when I saw them open for R.E.M. at the Mosque Theatre in Richmond, VA, in the Fall of 1985 (except perhaps their Creedence cover “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?”). This turned out to be their final tour before singer/guitarist/lyricist d. boon died in a van accident in December of that year.  Knowing that outcome adds a lot of extra emotional weight to this otherwise straightforward doco about the band – even the predictable ex-punk talking heads seem to have an extra level of tenderness toward the band.  Of course, a lot of that devotion is due to the striking contribution of this band to music history.  They were punk, yes, but not in the stereotypical sense. Instead, they were flying flannel as self-professed corn-dogs out of San Pedro, CA, ready to absorb classic rock, country, jazz, and everything else they heard into their short sometimes abrasive songs; they grew into musicians with superb creative technique (drummer George Hurley gets many kudos here). Our guide through the band’s history is bass player/singer/lyricist Mike Watt, now an elder statesman of the music scene (as well as in 2005). I guess I did not realise how many of the band’s songs he wrote himself (nor the fierce rivalry between him and d. boon) – thinking about it now, you can see the difference between boon’s political lyrics and Watt’s more narrative take (esp. on “History Lesson Part 2” of course). He’s down to earth, switched on, and authentic in his spiel. I’ve got 3 or 4 of the band’s albums, including their opus Double Nickels on the Dime, which was designed not only to compete with Husker Du’s Zen Arcade, another double LP, but was a reference to Sammy Hagar’s “I can’t drive 55” because his driving might have been crazy/exciting but his music was boring – the Minutemen opted for the converse, boring driving (at 55 or below) but crazy/exciting music.

Bad Timing (1980)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Bad Timing (1980) – N. Roeg

Let’s face it, after the high-water marks of Walkabout (1971) and Don’t Look Now (1973), director Nicolas Roeg never really made it as an auteur (he also co-directed Perfomance, 1969, with Donald Cammell and served as cinematographer for Lester, Schlesinger, Truffaut, others).  This might be his last hurrah (though there were other attempts to follow this theme to come). Perhaps following on from the cut-up technique he used to edit the Julie Christie-Donald Sutherland sex scene in Don’t Look Now, he used that technique for Bad Timing, although for the entire film.  Some reports suggest the film was shot as a straightforward erotic thriller and only later sliced and diced (à la William Burroughs) but I prefer to see it as a puzzle film, intended as such. After Tom Waits’ “Invitation to the Blues” plays, we are in an ambulance with Art Garfunkel tending to a comatose Theresa Russell (subsequent versions of this scene include “Who Are You”). From there, we jump back and forth in time across their (intense) relationship. It’s an “opposites attract” scenario with free spirited Russell living in the moment and Freudian psychotherapy professor Garfunkel trying to control her. In keeping with Garfunkel’s occupation, sex and death are the main themes here, but it isn’t clear who is unravelling more as the film “progresses” (or just as more details are added to beginning, middle, and end).  At some point, we realise that Harvey Keitel is actually a police detective investigating whether any malfeasance has taken place on the night that Russell was sent to the hospital and suspicion rests on Garfunkel. Things do conclude with a revelation and I guess that cements the feeling that both characters are equally damaged by this oil-and-water affair. But the reason to watch this film (if you are fully prepared) is for the madness and intensity and brave acting by both Russell (who subsequently married Roeg) and Garfunkel (previously in Carnal Knowledge, 1971, another risky choice) who don’t shy away from nakedness (physical or emotional).  Reviews suggest this is polarizing (no surprise).

Anora (2024)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Anora (2024) – S. Baker

This is the fourth Sean Baker film I’ve watched and I came to it a bit late, after all the hype surrounding its Best Picture Oscar win (and the Best Director, Screenplay, and Editing wins for Baker) has died down.  I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to like it, given the Cinderella story marketing frame, to which I only barely paid attention, seemed a bit cliché. And, as the film unfolded, the blue-collar erotic dancer meets spoiled Russian heir plot seemed just an opportunity to show decadence on the screen rather than to explore any meaningful ideas about class differences.  But then the fairytale plot evaporated and the intensity and stress racheted up, scene by scene, so that this felt more like a Safdie Brothers outing (although I haven’t yet seen their solo efforts) than the keenly/wryly observed naturalistic films of Baker’s oeuvre (e.g., Red Rocket, 2021; The Florida Project, 2017; Tangerine, 2015). The chaos and breakdown of relations between the characters is both comic and harsh and although Anora (Best Actress Mikey Madison) remains the heart of every scene, there are some excellent character turns by Karren Karagulian and Vache Tovmasyan. Still, it was hard to tell if this was just a thrill ride for viewers or something deeper – and then the final scene between gangster/minder Igor (Yura Borisov) and Ani/Anora made the film for me. Not only did this provide the necessary emotional release for the character but it revealed just how many defenses had been up, perhaps for a very long time, as a protective shield necessary in a hard hard world (even if the temptation to dream about that fairytale might be omnipresent, if not fully conscious).

No Other Choice (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

No Other Choice (2025) – C.-W. Park

I was very enamoured with Park Chan-wook’s previous film, Decision to Leave (2022), a hazy film noir romance that felt like an ode to Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958).  Now his new film takes a Donald Westlake novel (The Ax, previously adapted by Costa-Gavras, to whom this film is dedicated) and turns it into a dark comedy about our era of industrial transformation and the mass layoffs it is creating.  Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) works for a large Korean paper company that is taken over by an American corporation that promptly sacks a chunk of its workforce including Man-su.  An expensive present from the company (an eel dinner) foreshadows the pink slip.  The film then follows Man-su and his family, including his wife Miri (Son Ye-Jin) and two children, Si-one and Ri-one, a possibly autistic cello prodigy and a typical teen getting himself into trouble, as they cope with the disaster. The family struggles to make ends meet (Miri goes to work as a dental assistant) and with the bank about to foreclose on the family home, Man-su hatches a desperate plan to ensure that he is the prime candidate for any job opening at other paper companies (there seem to be quite a few).  The film takes its time as Man-su identifies his competition and builds up the courage to take them out. Of course, it’s messy, and Man-su creates too many clues and loose ends for the police to follow -- but director Park revels in the opportunity to create eccentric characters, stage some magnificent shots in beautiful colour (kudos to cinematographer Kim Woo-hyung), and basically let things get weird and goofy.  Lee Byung-hun holds it all together with a charismatic performance (rightfully nominated for a Golden Globe). Another highlight in Park’s already excellent oeuvre.

Fallen Leaves (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Fallen Leaves (2023) – A. Kaurismäki

It’s probably easy to underestimate Aki Kaurismäki, the 68-year-old Finnish director. His films are short, understated, and droll. In Fallen Leaves, the characters interact in a version of Helsinki filled with movie posters – including for films by Bresson, Godard, David Lean, and Jim Jarmusch (whose film, The Dead Don’t Die, 2019, the central couple go to see). This provides some hints about Kaurismäki’s intent – his film may feel slight, but it is actually linked carefully to film history, though unique in its own style. Bresson is a clear inspiration because we often see the characters doing things, small things like looking at the expiry date on food or sweeping a factory floor, which puts viewers in an existential mindset (thinking about doing and being). This is part of the so-called “Proletariat Trilogy” (the fourth film, following 1990’s The Match Factory Girl) which speaks to the class differences which were pivotal to Godard’s politicised cinema; including ongoing reports of the war in Ukraine every time a radio is switched on also reminds us of Godard’s intertextual approach (his bold colour palette also shows kinship). As far as the plot goes, David Lean’s Brief Encounter (1945) seems to be a touchstone, although in Fallen Leaves, Alma Pöysti’s Ana and Jussi Vatanen’s Holappa aren’t married to others and approaching an affair – they are just lonely strangers who struggle to make their connection happen.  Kaurismäki observes them nonjudgmentally (even when Holappa’s behaviour is clearly self-destructive, but with a wry eye that suggests that finding humour in life is one way to survive its repeated letdowns. Bemusing sequences, such as in the karaoke bar, are played as deadpan as you can get (a tendency also shared with his friend Jarmusch). Things go wrong, yes, but it’s never as bad as it seems – or at least the characters pull themselves together and get on with it (as existential proletariats must do). Music ties the whole thing together, bringing the melancholy, especially with a Finnish version of the French song “Les Feuilles Mortes” (known in English as “Autumn Leaves”, and translating to the film’s title here) and a Finnish version of Gordon Lightfoot’s Early Mornin’ Rain. Holappa’s friend Huotari (Janne Hyytiäinen) sings a traditional Finnish ballad at karaoke and indie-rock duo Maustetytöt get showcased in a bar. Definitely worth 80 minutes of your time.