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A short review: Third Star

Third Star (2010)
Director: Hattie Dalton
Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, JJ Feild, Tom Burke, & Adam Robertson

(This review contains spoilers)

For someone who at the moment can only aspire to anyone lucky enough to have been able to make their own film, Third Star, the low-budget directorial debut of Hattie Dalton, stands up as something I kind of wish I’d made or worked on.

Third Star (name coming from a misunderstanding of phrase 'second star to the right and straight on till morning') follows a “wagon-trip” along the Pembrokeshire coast, you know the kind of thing we’re all used to – characters go on road trip – something changes - characters change forever. Textbook.
Nothing much happens for the 92 minute running time. We know James won’t see his 30th birthday and thus this is his final trip. His best friend Davey currently lives to look after him, Bill may soon be a father and Miles has been having a secret affair with James’ married sister. That 92 minutes seems directionless for a lot of time; it’s more a study of the relationship between these four friends who just don’t come from a hard-done-by era – our problems here are marital affairs and mobile phones. These minute problems when placed side-by-side with James illness and his obvious obsession over life create tension and painfully honest arguments.

Once again it’s proven that dynamic character relationships can triumph over lack of narrative drive and action sequences. Every single character at some point shows themselves to be totally selfish and absorbed in their own existence, and dying James’ constant cries that “you’re wasting your lives” (‘you’re’ extending right to us, it seems) are presented not so much as sentimental values but something that we all know perfectly bloody well – it’s only when we are presented face on with death ourselves that it seems to matter.

After seeing the trailer to Third Star I convinced myself I was going to be a weeping mess at the end, but weirdly enough I wasn’t. It was only on contemplation afterward that I got a lump in my throat. Not because of the fact you see James take his own life, immersing himself in the cold, unforgiving salt water of the Welsh sea. I was more taken with the utter certainty he had over such a choice. Earlier on he had angrily ranted in frustration that he wanted “more time” and then a day or two later explains with no ounce of unease that he wants his friends to be with him when he dies, to actually let him do this. He wants to die in his favourite place in the world. His fragility combined with mental strength is what I found so extraordinary.

Third Star is a truly beautiful piece of work, and a welcome break from all the blockbuster predict-a-thons that are inevitable in the coming summer months. There are moments of true hilarity, the quirky, short-shorts-wearing star-wars-action-figure-searching characters met along the way, beautiful men (wink) and boy conversation, and a counter-balacing heart-stopping conclusion. It’s incredibly sad and typical that such a touching, worthy film only gets an extremely limited release (and two years after production!). The cinematography and gorgeous landscape photography are just exquisite, and there was not a single performance who I could fault. The mechanics behind the male friendship are clearly something I’m not going to understand personally but the petty wrestling around every corner (one source of comic relief at least) and anger felt so real that at times you couldn’t help but wonder how the hell any of these men had become friends in the first place. But Benedict Cumberbatch is the unparalleled central performance and when you see it you’ll understand why.
If you can get to a venue to support the filmmakers, then I urge to you do so. And probably pack tissues.



www.thirdstarfilm.co.uk

Scent psychosis. Perfume: The Story of a Murderer.

Perfume by Peter Süskind

A few weeks ago I came across the book Perfume: Story of a Murderer among my favourite fandom, Sherlock. It all makes sense now. If you know of Perfume already and of Sherlock you’ll more than likely spot the connection (and I apologise now for any subconscious references in this piece). But anyway, three sentences in and I digress. Something about it sparked interest, and I promptly bought myself a second hand copy on Amazon marketplace.



A short synopsis.
Protagonist Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is born during the mid 19th century in an unrelentingly disgusting, dirt-trodden Paris. Utterly sociopathic pretty much from birth, he has an unparalleled sense of smell and discovers the emotional control scents can have on human beings.

I won’t lie; the prospect of a good murder was my main interest. But in fact the book spends the entire time skirting around everything it sells itself to be. Perfume is a superb character study of Grenouille, with a good narrative foundation to keep you from wandering off.

Grenouille commits his first murder fairly early on in the book, where he first discovers the ultimate scent of a female. The killing is an accident, a moment of passion, and one that in the hands of anyone but Grenouille and Süskind would entail rape and extreme sexuality. But it’s completely non-graphic and almost underwhelming. Which is why it is so perfect. Grenouille hasn’t committed a murder for a sexual purpose; in fact he could be described more accurately as asexual. He is so intoxicated by her scent that takes her life mercilessly and leaves the scene of the crime with absolutely no remorse; only an intense desire to keep that smell, or at least its memory, with him until he dies. Scent is his only passion, one that gravely removes normal human traits – like guilt or love.

Some of the book classics we all know, A Clockwork Orange, Frankenstein, Lord of the Flies, deal with between humans and their relationship with ‘something else’ – God, perhaps. It’s safe to say Perfume follows this line of enquiry, to a point where our protagonist Grenouille actually sees himself as a God. Süskind has written him in such a way that we aren’t sure if Grenouille himself can really distinguish between his reality and his fantasies. One of the most intense sections of the book takes place over 7 years, inside a cave out in the wilderness of France, with only earthworms and silent vegetation for company. To you or I, this would seem utterly terrifying, but to Grenouille, to be removed from all other distractions allows himself to literally live inside a fantasy, where he spends all day sleeping and dreaming. The biblical connotations concerning this time spent in silence inside a cave, and his move back to civilisation where he is greeted as some kind of prophet are clear. Actually, I couldn’t help but find an amusing connection between this and Monty Python’s Life of Brian with the man inside the hole.

I don’t want to go too far into my thoughts on Grenouille as a character study because I won’t do it justice, and well, I can’t recommend the book enough. You’ll be equally intoxicated with it and probably develop your own obsession with scent over the course of its pages.
I battled with my own feelings of sympathy toward Grenouille (in line with many of the sub characters in the book), with Süskind’s descriptions of claustrophobic sense of smell. You wouldn’t be able to get away from it, you’d be so conscious that maybe spending seven years inside a cave masturbating over the memories of everything you are obsessed with wouldn’t be such a terrible prospect after all.


Now the adaptation. Directed by Tom Tykwer (Run Lola Run) and starring Ben Whishaw (yes, that guy, what’s his name, Pingu? Off Nathan Barley!) as Grenouille. Minutes into the film and I already concluded that I believe Whishaw, while giving a superb performance, is far too pretty to be Grenouille and isn’t as disease-ridden-looking (if that’s a suitable description) as I envisaged when reading. Perfume actually delivers quite an impressive piece of casting - Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman to name but two, and well, they certainly don’t displease.

The film is fairly lengthy at 145 minutes and this said, misses out huge chunks of the source text. Naturally this occurs with adaptations, novels just aren’t the same as screenplays, and this adaptation certainly won’t impede upon your enjoyment of it as a story. It does however take a path away from the ‘character study’ element of the novel, one which probably is more to do with making a more mainstream and accessible movie than anything else, but all the same…

Grenouille of the novel is outwardly sociopathic and point blank lacks the ability to love, feel guilt, or even acknowledge consequence. The Grenouille of Tykwer’s world is more ambiguous and lacks that epic God-complex that made the novel so enthralling. From his first killing one not acquainted with sociopathic Grenouille may well be fooled into thinking that he did in fact fall in love with the victim. The way he rips clothes away from her body, and delicately presses nostrils against skin will certainly provide titillation for many audience members. It’s sensually lit, bathed in gold light and could be mistaken for a sex scene. This sexual ambiguity runs for the remainder of the film, (until the very end where Grenouille himself admits he cannot experience love and commits suicide with the aid of his ultimate human perfume) and it is the only problem I have with it as a whole. I feasted upon the book because it was a fabulous exploration of human sense. Perfume the film is not.


Sexual or asexual?

The length may put off some viewers, and admittedly it is a very slow 145 minutes. I don’t think however it would settle within 90 minutes and its slowness does everything to exacerbate and make example of Grenouilles lonely, meandering life where he knows we’re all just working towards the end. Everything you experienced with speed, soundtrack and editing with Tykwer's Run Lola Run, just think the opposite and that's everything you need to know about Perfume.

I read the book before I watched the film. I recommend you do it the other way around. The book is a genuinely intriguing read, but the film perhaps deserves to be seen more as a standalone work to be enjoyed. The cinematography is nothing new or particularly note-worthy, but I cannot fault Whishaw’s performance, and well, could anyone say no to a bit of Rickman in 18th century costume?

real comic affairs. ghost world by terry zwigoff & daniel clowes.

With marketing slogans such as “the underground comic book” you could be deceived into venturing into Ghost World with notions of saturated colour, tight Lycra clad main characters, questionable names and a heavy emphasis on visual style. It might be worth remembering the underground part of that slogan, because if you haven’t treated yourself to the delights of Daniel Clowes 1997 green and black graphic novel of the same name and are expecting some epic comic drama, you’ll be sorely disappointed.
If however you want sharp characterisation, dark wit loaded with sarcasm and a healthy dash of misanthropy, all packaged within a loose plot of angst and alienation, ending with a dessert of non-existent happy-ending, you’ve arrived at the right film. Oh, and you’ll still get your silly names (Enid Coleslaw? Rebecca Doppelmayer?)

Terry Zwigoff (previously known for his 1994 documentary Crumb based on the life of a comic writer) and Daniel Clowes - two middle aged men - at first seem the wrong candidates to accurately portray the strains and gradual dissolution of a young female friendship. But perhaps that universal knowledge of the detritus and boredom that is teenage life enables them to just about nail it, and in turn makes Ghost World as a whole entirely relatable for both males and females. But as far as screenplays on this subject go (and the market is saturated with them, Rushmore and American Beauty to name but two), this has got to be one of the funniest and wonderfully gloomy things to come in film for a long time.

Enid (Thora Birch) and Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson) are best friends, freshly graduated from evil high school and now set forth on the inevitable journey between school and “real-life”. They have it worked out – they’ll get jobs and live together. But when the apathy of summer (and, certainly in Enid’s point of view, apathy of life generally) dawns, things start to get complicated between the pair. Complicated in the form of middle-aged bachelor Seymour (Steve Buscemi) who they initially just want to torture. But with the appearance of Seymour, the most unlikely “romantic” subplot in film history comes to life and he unwittingly becomes the eccentric fascination of 18 year-old Enid.

This subplot remains very loose throughout the film – as does much of the narrative. This said, connoisseurs of Clowes original comic will come to realise there is a lot more narrative in the film than the book. In fact the so-called romance subplot doesn’t exist in the book and has clearly been written in to satisfy your regular cinema-goers. I think it’s fair to say, had Zwigoff decided to make this into a truly faithful adaptation, you wouldn’t feel for the characters half as much.
As Enid, Rebecca and later, Seymour, wander aimlessly through the streets, it’s not any sense of plot or end destination that keeps the film moving, it’s the unending stream of hilarious conversations and deadpan expressions, along with a jingly, simultaneously meandering soundtrack, that keep you hooked. We can almost guarantee you won’t be able to see or predict the ending (clue: if there is one) of this, but you’ll appreciate the ride none-the-less.

At one point in the film, a character drawls how they are going to “get a job in some big corporation, and f—k things up from the inside”, and perhaps this sets the undertone for the entire film. Immersing itself entirely into the world of the alternative, with a clear love of obscure vintage music, trinkets and art, Ghost World actively aches to be as anti-Hollywood as possible. Zwigoff doesn’t try to be cool. He doesn’t try to wedge it into any avant-garde genre. In fact, as soon as Enid becomes what ordinary people would perhaps imagine as alternative (it’s probably safe to call it the mainstream alternative with bright green hair, leather jacket and Buzzcocks soundtrack) she is mocked and ironically feels entirely out of place.

American life and Hollywoodisation in general takes a mocking. Commercialised, shrill radio presenters take a punch – “I feel like I’m being jabbed in the face” as Seymour poetically puts it. Cool people take a punch. People who try too hard to be cool take a punch. Elitist art takes a punch. But it’s all delivered in such a hard, blunt manner without apology that you’ll fail stifle your laughter, and perhaps your agreement. You can’t help but approve of the direct and disturbingly truthful observations of the characters.



Enid genuinely doesn’t fit into a “model” – from scene to scene her complete style changes. One minute she’s wearing a bright coloured comic t-shirt, the next she’s wearing a tiny leopard print skirt and a fluffy headband. Enid herself begins to represent the whole films need to avoid all your preconceptions of teenagers and angst. You could go as far as saying it explores what identity really means – and through Seymour, asks us if we ever find our true identities. Do you know who you really are and where you’re heading?

The fact that Zwigoff has steered entirely clear of alternative cliché is what makes this so successful and appealing to a wider audience. There is no scent of a desire to build in some high-speed, MTV style editing that’s become so popular among the younger generation, or boring and inevitable love scenes. In terms of cinematography and aesthetics, Zwigoff has stayed true to a traditional tableaux style film that is fast going out of fashion and has instead made the narrative and beautiful, antique misé-en-scene the primary focus.

The Enid’s and Seymour’s of the audience can enjoy the Indian dance music, bluntfully truthful and quotable lines, constant irony, mix-matched fashion sense and interesting trinkets in the background; and hopefully feel a sense of belonging. The Rebecca’s are welcomed to enjoy an unconventional look at the world without being alienated completely from it.

All performances are admirable. Thora Birch, fresh from winning a number of awards for her performance as another detached teenager in the previously mentioned American Beauty (1999), ultimately turns Enid into a particularly unlikable character with her overt misogyny, obvious lethargy and at times, utterly selfish behaviour. But underneath, Birch keeps Enid a simple human who seems scared to properly grow up, something that certainly the target audience of alternative teenagers and young adults will identify with. Birch successfully acts with chameleonic tendency, constantly switching between deadpan humour and animated hilarity (for example during a hysterical scene where she drags an unexpecting Seymour into an adult store).

Indie persona Steve Buscemi, well known from cult classics such as Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Fargo (1996), also gives a stand out performance as lonely Seymour, who works in complete sync with Birch’s Enid. Seymour is probably the most likeable character in Ghost World, and ironically, the one not in the original graphic novel. Buscemi retains the idiosyncrasies you will previously know him for – the ultimate resigned pessimist. His Seymour is so clearly resigned to his own loneliness that he comes to symbolise everything Enid wants – a certain ‘coolness’ without even trying. He has a certainty of his own identity, whether he likes his identity or not. He’s a dork who knows he’s a dork; a “jazz loser” who knows (or at least he thinks) he’s a “jazz loser”. “You are the luckiest guy in the world!” exclaims an awestruck Enid when introduced to Seymour’s jazz room, filled with obscure jazz records, framed photographs and antiques. As a result of the certainty he has of himself he disputes this, arguing “you can’t connect with other people, so you fill your life with stuff”. Seymour is just as much a social commentary in himself as anything else.



Visually placed side by side, the quirky looking Buscemi and unconventionally beautiful Birch look so mismatched that funnily, they almost match, slotting together like the oddest puzzle pieces of the set. The dizzying Hollywood looks of Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise pale into infinite insignificance when you experience Ghost World. They are real-looking people in a weirdly realist film for the real people.

Fittingly, Johansson’s Rebecca is arguably the most conventionally attractive character, and conventional in every other sense. She becomes the bridge between alternative world and “ordinary” world with her desire for a steady job and her own apartment, but maintaining the faint drawl and misogyny of her best friend. Rebecca is the least exaggerated character. Johansson plays her with such an understated everyday vibe that you’ll probably want to be best friends with her yourself.

Ghost World should be a success – whether a success commercially or just as an indie is unclear. Coming after all your other American archetypal teen movies like American Pie where sex and virginity jokes are the order of the day, Ghost World is refreshing in every way. This isn’t a teen film about high-school popularity, or where losing your virginity is your ultimate goal – it extends its net further. It’s a teen film that is reconciling the teenage audience and the adult audience, beautifully and (in the end) sadly dealing with more adult estrangement in the wide world outside school. Sooner or later you have to grow up, and doing this in a media obsessed consumer society, is no easy task.

So, if you want to see Buscemi briefly get his girl, or just want to feel less alone in your own meandering meaninglessness, see this film. Perhaps more than once.


Note: This is a review I submitted for BA coursework and it has been written as though the film has just been released.