Heaven’s Gate (1980): Minute by minute: part 12

My Man Godfrey continues his analysis of Micheal Cimino’s disastrous epic, Heaven’s gate.

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Shitful.

For those with a hunger for more click here.

Heaven’s Gate (1980): Minute by minute: part 11

This is the minute that needs no introduction. Which makes this bit quite unnecessary really.

11 of 229 – The greatest minute ever captured on celluloid

I eagerly sit in my viewing chamber, remote at the ready. I’m about to witness the minute of Heaven’s Gate that Michael Cimino was most proud of. In fact, he believed it to be the greatest sixty ever seconds captured on film. I hit play and sit back. But something strange occurs. The DVD skips over the eleventh minute and moves straight to the twelfth. I rewind, skip back, press stop, mute and play, but nothing seems to work. I remove the DVD from the player, blow some dust from the surface (like that ever works), and notice something very peculiar. On the disk is a circle of microscopic black dots. I scratch and rub, but nothing will remove them. It becomes obvious what has happened. For some weeks I’d had the suspicion that I was being followed. I wasn’t sure by who or why, but it’s abundantly clear that one of Cimino’s goons has broken into my castle and altered my copy of Heaven’s Gate to stop me from viewing and reviewing the eleventh minute.

I ring all local video stores to try and rent Heaven’s Gate, but every copy in the suburb has been borrowed by a Mr. Omnici. My last hope is the local library, but I arrive to discover it has been burned to the ground.

I skulk home and find an odd note pinned to the drawbridge. The note is blank, but smells of lemon juice. I know exactly what to do. I take it inside and wave the note over a candle. It instantly bursts into flames and I’m left holding an incinerated letter and reeking of burned lemons. But what if the note didn’t hold a secret message, but was a clue? I run to my lemon cupboard and remove the largest. I calve it open. In the lemon’s centre is a microfilm. Without pause I rush to retrieve the microfilm projector I bought from a catalogue when I was seven and load the film. The message reads “meet me in the lemon cupboard”. I rush back to the lemon cupboard to find a man in a tweed jacket and leather slacks smoking a pipe. He takes a lemon and squeezes the juice over his head, all the while staring intently at me. Spitting juice as he speaks, the man instructs me to travel to an address in Auckland. I rub my eyes to wipe away the citric acid to find the smoking man has disappeared.

I board my private jet and head straight for Auckland, via Christchurch to do some shopping. The address is in the centre of Auckland, but the driveway to the house is some 40km long, winding through forests and mountain ranges. I eventually arrive at a decrepit wooden house atop a lonely hill. As I push on the front door it disintegrates into dust. Stepping over the pile of door dust, I enter the house.

In the corner of the room is a man who, like the man in my lemon cupboard, is smoking a pipe and wearing a tweed jacket. The only difference is that he is wearing shorts, long socks and one sandal. He welcomes me and expresses admiration of my bravery and choice of knitwear, though I’m not wearing any.

The man reveals his name to be Henry Splund.

“Why the secrecy?” I ask.

“Cimino has many spies – many, many,” he says in a hybrid New Zealand and Welsh accent. “His gaze is never far away.”

“Why is he thwarting my efforts to view the eleventh minute?”

“Michael is a sensitive man, very sensitive indeed – proud too! He regards the eleventh minute of Heaven’s Gate a great achievement. But as the film was panned, he believes the public not worthy to sit before the majesty of his eleventh minute,” explains Henry.

“That sounds a little extreme.”

“Oh, he’s mad as two shits.”

“Who are you?”

“I am but a man; a dedicated man and admirer of Mr. Cimino. I remember the first time I saw the eleventh minute of Heaven’s Gate I was so awestruck I was forever changed. When I heard Cimino had attempted to eradicate the eleventh minute from every copy and print of Heaven’s Gate, I couldn’t allow it, I just couldn’t! I managed to steal the minute from a film reel in the Cimino Library. I smuggled it here to my secret hideout to be restored and guarded. I guess you could call me the keeper of the eleventh minute. When I heard that you were to review… well, I was elated. But I know Cimino and his cronies would never allow it.”

“So you sent me a series of cryptic messages?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I have a telephone?”

Henry ignores my reasonable point and opens a hatch in the floor.

“Come,” he says excitedly, “I must not delay you any further. It is time to see what you have come to see.”

Henry disappears down the hole and I climb through the hatch close behind.

As I follow Henry through a series of doors and long corridors, I become incredibly nervous. I’m essentially alone in an isolated area with solitary sandal wearing loon who has dedicated his life to sixty seconds of celluloid. Is he going to murder me? And surely the piece of film couldn’t be that good? We arrive at what I’d describe as a mini-cinema and what Henry refers to as “The Temple”. Fighting back a proud tear, Henry takes a canister of film and loads the projector.

I am incredulous as Henry threads the film – there is no way this obscene quest is going to be worth the effort. But as the projector fires up my scepticism is soon put to rest. The reel features John Hurt continuing to wank on about something, but it’s so… exquisite. My eyes refuse to blink through fear of missing one moment. The lighting, the costume and framing all come together in a visual orgasm. I hold Henry and we weep together at the sheer beauty of the eleventh minute of Heaven’s Gate. Bless you Cimino! Bless you!

How did we get here? Well, that’s a rather big question. Lets just start by reading parts 1-10 of Simon’s Heaven’s Gate review by clicking here.

Film Review: GI JOE: The Rise of the Cobra (2009)

GI JOE stand for: Global Integrated Joint Operating Entity. Nice guy, Mike Childs braves another spectacular celluloid display of America’s ability to save us from Super Intelligent Masterminds from Scotland (Just like World War II; except the Scottish bit).

Brawn over Brains, America! Fuck Yeah!

Sometimes all that’s needed at the cinema is a giant box of popcorn, a huge coke and an action-packed ninety minutes of fun. G.I.JOE is just the tonic after a hectic couple of weeks of fine film festival fare at MIFF, and although this effects-driven big screen realisation of the immensely popular Hasbro military toy range is not a great film, there is plenty to enjoy among the explosions, destruction and industrial strength soundtrack music.

ye cannae stoap me!

Megalomaniac Scottish arms dealer McCullen, played by the dour Christopher Eccleston, has invented a new metal-eating missile which has the potential to change the very nature of war as we know it. After four of these ‘nanomites’ fall into the wrong hands (his!) the elite multi-national Joes, under the command of General Hawk (Dennis Quaid doing his best John Wayne impersonation) must track them down before they eat up the Eiffel Tower! Newly recruited Duke and Ripcord lead the crack squad on a race against time helped enormously by their clever ‘accelerator suits’ which enable them to leap over crashing cars at high speeds.

Will they prevent the destruction? Will Duke find true love again with former fiancée Ana (Sienna Miller)? and will the American President (Jonathan Pryce) be able to placate the French before he’s replicated? (Spoiler alert! Oops. Too late!)

I think that’s the plot in a nutshell, but the fun for me was seeing some classically trained British actors like Pryce, Eccleston and Miller chewing up the scenery alongside the top Joes of hunky Channing Tatum and the wise-cracking Marlon Wayans. And watch out too for an uncredited cameo from Brendan Fraser, star of a couple of director Stephen Sommers previous MUMMY hits.

MIKE CHILDS

MIFF review: Going Down (1983)

Going Down is one of those movies that’s so good you keep turning around to catch the look on your friends’ faces during the funny moments. You want to see if they’re laughing as hard as you are.

Making a come back at MIFF as part of the post-punk program, Going Down premiered in Melbourne in 1983 at an adult cinema that had recently closed down and become a purveyor of more regular films. But of course the old trench-coated regulars still rocked up and were surprised to find that Going Down was not the kind of movie they were looking for. Or maybe…

The story revolves around four twenty-something women having a debaucherous last night out in old Sydney town before the straight one of the bunch, Karli (Tracey Mann), flies to the Big Apple with her daddy’s $3000, in an attempt to get her shit together. The anarchy that ensues harks back to a time when drugs were cheap, rock’n’roll was raw and the young generation still wore its bohemian element with pride.

This film is a testament to all those who never sold out. It couldn’t be more at odds with the MIFF program guide’s description of it as ‘A kind of post-punk proto-Sex in the City.’ While it is about female friendship, the women couldn’t care less about corporate careers, designer fashion, and finding Mr Right. One wears a tshirt that says ‘If I can’t be free I can be cheap.’

Going Down captures the expansive and full-throttle nature of 80s subcultures on the urban fringes using raw handheld footage and gritty location shoots. Fast cars ride with the shared house debris, the Kings Cross nightlife, Drag Queens, boys with dumb bogan wrap-around-sunglasses and bleached mullets, over-the-counter cough medicine, ugly lead singers with real talent, shooting up at parties, women in hot plastic pants, dalliances with prostitution and drunken sex with strangers. The depiction of Aussie vernacular never rang so true against the sunny outlines of Centrepoint Tower and Bondi Beach. Arguments about money, morals, and loyalty swing fast and wild across the story arc, as friends clash and loyalties are divided.

Carrie Bradshaw doesn't shop at Woolworths

While the film may be ideologically oppositional, its structure builds on the Hollywood system rather than rejecting it. Its characters are not completely without purpose; they are simply living in the moment. Some of them are drug-fucked, sure, but their flaws are recognisable and the bad lines aren’t of the scripted variety; they’re the ones going up their noses. I recognised something of myself in all four women as well as the coke-lid spectacled Greg (David Argue) on his crazy electro-out of control roller skates. There’s plenty of un-pc shouts of ‘cunts’ and ‘poofters’ but the female characters  behave like real people, not little girls with soft focus hair looking for a boy’s shoulder to cry on.

Although Going Down was independent with a cumulative budget of $300 000, this film wasn’t all punk in process. It is technically excellent, it was shot twice over a number of years, and its brand of realism was not designed to shock. Two of the principal actors were also co-script writers – Ellen (Moira MacLaine-Cross) and Jackie (Julie Barry). “This was their story, this was what was happening at the time,” states director Haydn Keenan.

Things were less controlled back then. The film makers managed to get the Sydney Harbour Bridge closed for free for 40 minutes. They secured permission to stage a food fight outside Sydney Airport. The crew even did all their own stunts. Keenan says that in a way he misses the “lack of professionalism” and DIY spirit of that era. “Now if you want do something you have to pay $1000 to hire an empty office in an empty building.”

Although the first version apparently ‘went down well’ with test audiences aged 18-29 in demographically diverse Sydney postcodes, ultimately its success was limited by distributors’ fear of family unfriendly depictions and values.

I will be playing a tribute to Pel Mel, the band who features prominently on the soundtrack, next time I DJ. The song? ‘No word from China.’

Anna Sutton

–> A negative take on the film by someone else who saw it at MIFF this year: {here}

–> Senses of Cinema critique {here}

–> Director Haydn Keenan has the film for sale on his site {here}

Heaven’s Gate (1980): Minute by minute: part 10

Simon reaches double figures in his quest to give Micheal Cimino’s maligned gem, Heaven’s Gate, the attention it deserves.

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The budget blow out probably took root during this speech. Look at all those outfits.

John Hurt takes to the lectern. Here is what he said:

“Class of ’70, (applause and cheers), I enjoy many things – a symmetrically hung photo frame, for instance. But there is no thing on this earth I enjoy more than clams. Oh, how the thought of a happy clam makes me tingle with excitement. I find every aspect of bivalve molluscs gives me great pleasure – from their spectacular shells to their soft gooey innards. There are many things one can do with a clam. Soup, chowder, pasta and even curries are a delectable vessel for the clam, but one must not discount non-culinary (polite applause), applications. Clams enjoy being taken to fairs and ice-rinks and great satisfaction can be obtained through witnessing a clam participating in wholesome activities at these venues. I once saw a clam ice dance to the music of Verdi and then frighten a local boy by lobbing itself into the child’s ice-cream cone. The boy was immediately hospitalised, but later saw the funny side. (Applause.) I have been known, by all of you, to do a great many things with clams. You are all aware that I often freeze clams, with the intent of later throwing them at dogs. I have, on occasion, placed them in pianos and I frequently use their shells as castanets in order to mock the Spanish. I have made a gold chair and I intend to spend my days sitting on it amongst the many clams I’ve accumulated and have passing travellers ask me questions. I… I feel alienated and I wear jumpers in the summer time even though it’s hot and makes people feel hotter when they look at me.”

Or at least that’s what I think he said – I don’t know, I had the sound down.

To read parts 1-9 of Simon’s Heaven’s Gate review (you know you must) click here. No, sorry here.

MIFF review: The White Ribbon (2009)

Dir: Michael Haneke

Awards: Palme d’Or at Cannes

An amazing film – many walk outs during the screening.

Shot in black and white, the film is set in small town in northern Germany just before WW2. Strange unexplainable crimes begin to happen – the doctor is tripped from his horse by wire, a woman dies from an ‘accident’ at the saw mill. The child of the towns main employer and land owner, The Baron, is found tied up with the marks of a severe lashing. As the school teacher and narrator of the the story slowly unravels these mysteries we become privy to the many secrets the town holds and the everyday cruelties that the adults inflict on each other and their children. A quiet and heavy atmosphere of horror builds as the audience blindly stares at the clues, but with so many villains in this story it is almost impossible to figure out the culprit.

The truth is too sinister to bare and the notion of justice of any kind becomes an impossibility. War breaks and the truth is never revealed; it is a mirror of the horror of war and those who are really accountable. No one is exonerated except those who search for and try to expose truth in a hope for change. An amazing exploration on how evil manifests itself in humans and is passed on like a plague.

Score: *****

Jemila MacEwan

[you’re definitely a love or hate it reviewer. Passionate. -ed]

MIFF review: Tea with Madame Clos + White Night Wedding

White Night Wedding

Its all over now, but Mike Childs fires this final salvo at MIFF with two fine reviews of some fine films.

Australian filmmaker Jane Oehr got lucky when she happened upon the nonagenarian Madame Clos in the sleepy French town of Lauzerte. Over a period of several years, many cups of tea, she visited and filmed the sprightly, delightful Clos as the world passed by her (literal) window on the world. From her vantage point in the centre of the village, the elderly Madame never skipped a beat as she handed out Vichy mints to many generations of schoolchildren, passed the time with neighbours like the grumpy accordion player next door, or her loyal housekeeper Madame Griffoull. With remarkable clarity, Clos looks back on a fulfilling life and shares her hopes and dreams about the past, and the future as she looks forward to her 100^th birthday. TEA WITH MADAME CLOS is a heart-warming slice of life which left many in the MIFF audience in tears. [Sooks. Nah, actually sounds pretty nice -Ed].

WHITE NIGHT WEDDING is one of Iceland’s highest grossing home-grown films, and the mix of comedy and drama travels quite well to other parts of the world. Taking place across one of that country’s long white nights where sleep is difficult and eccentricities and drink come out to play, a planned wedding between a recently widowed college professor and his former pupil may, or may not, take place the next day. Residents on the picturesque but remote island, where cars are banned but golf buggies and tractors abound, speculate on the impending nuptials, while rivalries and romances escalate and recede. Director Baltasar Kormakur calls his updating of Chekhov’s Ivanov a ‘dramedy’, but I did overhear one audience member describing the film as “the funniest Icelandic comedy I’ve ever seen!” And not having seen that many I’m happy to agree!

MIKE CHILDS

MIFF + PHILOSOFACE = Giveaway #3

Well, its the last two days of MIFF and we would like to giveaway our final philosface badge.

To win the final philosoface badge, tell me who said:

“The first goal is to get 10,000 students practicing transcendental meditation in the U.S. It will be a peace-meditating group like a factory that pumps peace around the world”

and then…

Tell me how much they are selling coffee for.

email your answers to ausfilmreview@gmail.com

Heaven’s Gate (1980): Minute by minute: part 9

Not even MIFF can fatigue or distract Simon as he dissects and vitalizes Michael Cimino’s maligned epic, Heaven’s Gate.

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My goodness! Kristofferson’s nose twitches implying that he enjoys crocheting collars in chateaus. How does he do it? I’ll bet he owns a hut. Well, in a change of pace, something appears to be happening. John Hurt, referred to as the “class orator”, is called to the lectern. Then there’s clapping and by minute’s end he is not yet at the lectern. Perhaps John Hurt’s character will do something bold and dramatic, like move the plot forward, or even get the story started. So far we know it’s 1870 and a class is graduating. This has taken nine minutes to establish. If that ratio of two pieces of information per nine minutes was applied to a film like Star Wars: A New Hope, it would have had a running time of six years. The film series would therefore collectively run for approximately thirty-six years, or just over the average lifespan of a pre-Columbian North American. But my gut tells me that Hurt’s character will not move the plot along during his speech. It also tells me that Columbus wouldn’t enjoy westerns, but would opt for German melodrama as his film genre of choice.

To read parts 1-8 of Simon’s Heaven’s Gate review (you know you must) click here. No, sorry here.

MIFF review: We Live in Public (2009)

Genre: Documentary

Dir: Ondi Timoner

What were you doing in the mid-90s? I spent a large portion of my time eating Maggi 2 Minute noodles (the chicken flavoured ones) and wearing dachet jeans. On the other hand, Josh Harris, “the greatest Internet pioneer you’ve never heard of”, was busy smothering himself in all the giddy delights available to a self-made millionaire of the dotcom variety. For a while it seemed computer nerds like Harris were destined to a life of solitude and short sleeved shirts and ties, but the Internet boom freed the geeks from their polyester shackles and allowed them to firmly suckle at the teat of cooldom.

Josh Harris was a playboy gazillionaire. Unfortunately for Josh he was also a playboy gazillionaire with an untapped talent for bad performance art and squandering fortunes. Punctured with awkward and cringe-worthy moments, We Live in Public documents his forays into Internet TV and barely legal but amusing social experiments.  If you are inspired by Branson-esque tales of daring entrepreneurial successes, this film will probably disappoint. However, if you have an interest in any of the following: mental decay, nudity, guns, apple farms, video conferencing, Sherwood Schwartz, public defecation, bunk beds or circular showers, you might just enjoy it.

score: 3.5 stars

Virginia Mannering

—> official website

—>Review in Variety

—>Other MIFF 2009 reviews:

10 conditions of love

Moon

North (Nord)

The Girlfriend Experience

Anna

I Need that Record! + Van Diemens + Treeless Mountain

Unmade Beds + The Loved Ones + Hansel and Gretel