Little White Lies 04 - The Jarhead Issue by The Church of London

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ISSUE 4

THE JARHEAD ISSUE

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN MAD SCIENTISTS WANT YOUR BRAIN WALK THE LINE

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LITTLE WHITE LIES Truth & Movies

HOLLYWOOD DRAFT DODGERS LADY VENGEANCE SADDAM HUSSEIN: MURDERER, NOVELIST

COVER ILLUSTRATION BY Paul Willoughby WORDS BY Matthew Bochenski

“EVERY WAR IS DIFFERENT. EVERY WAR IS THE SAME.”

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RELEASED 13th January DIRECTED BY Sam Mendes STARRING Jake Gyllenhaal, Peter Sarsgaard, Jamie Foxx, Chris Cooper SCREENPLAY BY William Broyles Jr.

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Sam Mendes’ masterful Jarhead is a new breed of war film. Oo-rah.

“You

have to have a secret,” says Sam Mendes, “a shadow underneath the text which allows the film to float above reality.” For his third movie, an adaptation of Anthony Swofford’s combat confessional, Jarhead: A Marine’s Chronicle of the Gulf War and Other Battles, Mendes has taken these secrets, these shadows on the wall, and instead of floating them above reality has rooted them in the awful absurdity

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of one soldier’s experience of Iraq. The result? A war movie quite unlike any you’ve seen before. A Marine Corps anthem of deceptive timbre. A sensational examination of post-’Nam American belligerence. A humanist farce. An existential masterpiece. Marine Corps jarhead (the term is slang for a new recruit) Anthony Swofford was 20 years-old on August 8th 1990, when Saddam Hussein declared Kuwait “a legal, constitutional and actual” part of the Iraqi state.

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He was one of the first soldiers despatched to the deserts of Saudi Arabia, where the Marine Corps were to maintain “a constant state of suspicious alertness” as Western governments manoeuvred for war. Highly trained, highly motivated, and highly ready to shoot somebody, Swofford was part of the Corps’ elite Surveillance and Target Acquisition Platoon – a sniper, a military instrument with one use: to kill.

What followed,

however, was five months of inactivity, like a sand-blasted Beckett play in 120-degree heat. Surrounded by endless desert, the Marines entered a state of heightened reality; nerve endings shredded by boredom, frustration and the almost sexual promise of an imminent, violent release.

Unique is a word seldom applied to war movies. As Swofford says, “All wars are different, all wars are the same”. But in Jarhead Sam Mendes has been gifted with a story of singular perspective, and done exactly what it demanded – made a film of intense subjectivity. Jarhead isn’t a film that makes sense of the Gulf War, it’s rooted in the queasy immediacy of real life. It has a mercurial individuality that takes a conflict lived through the lens of TV and gives it a snarling, horny, desperate, lonely, shit-scared human face. That face is Jake Gyllenhaal, convincingly bulked out as America’s finest. But despite this physical beef, the real meat of his brilliant performance comes from the inside. His Swofford is an individual in an outfit ruthlessly geared towards the Corps collective. He arrives at basic training not just as an outsider to his new platoon, but like an alien from another planet, reading Camus on the toilet and quoting Virgil. There’s a charming naivety to him, an honest bonhomie, both of which are perfectly captured in the amused innocence that radiates from Gyllenhaal’s oddly cherubic baby blues. But for all Swofford’s intelligence, his self-awareness and desert-dry voice-over of life in the field (masturbation, masturbation, masturbation), the Marine Corps is clearly under his skin and inside his head. Camus’ The Stranger is the definitive post-war novel of alienation and the fear of anonymity, and at first much of what Swofford has to say boils down to a simple, defiant truth: this is who I am. It’s disconcerting, not because we haven’t seen it before (think Martin Sheen’s Willard) but because it’s so brilliantly matter-of-fact, so exceptionally underplayed by Gyllenhaal that it achieves a kind of keening desperation, a pitch of anxiety so extreme that it’d set dogs barking. If Apocalypse Now is Coppola’s Dantean journey through Hell, Jarhead is F. Scott Fitzgerald goes to war.

And then... kablam. In the insane calm of the desert, the bomb that finally goes off is Gyllenhaal. The Marine is a perfectly calibrated tool, trained and sculpted to go to war. To kill. But as the months pass, the aggression and instincts that should be keeping them alive slowly start to eat them from the inside. This is the root of Jarhead’s existential crisis – what is a Marine, who is he, if he isn’t killing? Swofford is a coiled spring, and Gyllenhaal changes, almost imperceptibly, behind those eyes. They become hollowed and blank, the angles of his face become harder. Finally all that rage and doubt and fear is unleashed in one astonishing moment when he turns his gun on a colleague, then on himself. “Shoot me,” he screams, “shoot me you fucking pussy.” It’s electric, and it’s a scene that should confirm Gyllenhaal’s status as an actor at the very top of the game. Though it’s Gyllenhaal’s movie, Jarhead is also a personal triumph for Mendes; a director with an inexplicable amount to prove. His seamless transition from the West End to the West Coast aroused a strange brand of passive-aggressive critical hostility – a benign contempt infused with a quintessentially English class prejudice. Mendes’ crime is to be relentlessly middle class. Born in the Home Counties, educated at Cambridge, awarded a CBE, he’s the epitome of the Establishment in an industry that values outsiders. Where art is synonymous with struggle and poor is cool, success – especially in America, a land whose cultural caché begins and ends with the Big Mac – is a dirty word.

And yet

everybody wants it. The trick is not to make it look so easy because that shatters the illusion that lets everybody else sleep at night. Mendes didn’t even bother to look like he was trying. And if he didn’t suffer, how can he have earned it? So a quick parse of his award-winning career becomes a stampede of back-handed compliments. He’s “beset by slickness” (like a cormorant in an oil-spill), “flashy and successful”, worse – “respectable”, while his films “boast a surplus of beauty”. And yet in Jarhead he has fashioned a response of such outrageous confidence, such muscular nonchalance, that it must finally be time to sit back and echo Spielberg’s admiration. Mendes marshals this film like a Drill Sergeant. It’s on a much grander scale than anything he’s done before, but he brings to it a parade ground precision. He’s always been a stylist, but here his sense of clear, symmetrical space chimes with the geometry of military formations. And yet it’s not the composed, wide angles that grab you so much as his willingness to strap on the handheld and get dirty. When the Marines reach the burning wells, you can taste the thick, glutinous oil that spatters the landscape.

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But this is a film

that doesn’t stop to admire its own sophistication. That ‘surplus of beauty’ in Mendes’ first two films is really a surfeit of self-awareness – a preening sense of their own artistry. There’s no place for that self-congratulation in Roger Deakin’s arid photography, by turns stark, starched and nightmarish. While it’s not exactly Mendes verité, Jarhead is a leaner, tougher picture altogether than either American Beauty or Road to Perdition. It has to be. Subtext aside, it’s a movie about endless, debilitating boredom, and at times you can feel the

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director and actors muscling it along by sheer force of will. Swofford’s platoon is fleshed out by Jamie Foxx as Staff Sergeant Sykes and Peter Sarsgaard as Troy, Swofford’s spotter in the STA. Foxx is exceptional as a lifer dedicated to the Corps. It’s a committed performance, not least because as a Sergeant he’s literally front and centre in the ranks, but this isn’t a flashy, movie star turn. Sarsgaard, one of the great, underrated American actors, is equally resonant. He has a natural air of

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steely serenity, yet one of Jarhead’s great surprises is that Troy becomes the film’s emotional register. He ebbs and flows from quiet authority to desperate vulnerability, shadowing Swofford’s own breakdown, ultimately begging to be allowed to kill.

Though there’s a certain

amount of cliché in the other members of the squad (the psycho, the nerd, the black dude), Lucas Black has the thankless task of playing Chris Kruger, a sort of by-the-numbers liberal mouthpiece who provides an unconvincing commentary on the politics of the US presence. It’s a half-hearted compromise that raises the spectre of whether Jarhead should be more actively engaged in its political roots. Maybe some will feel short-changed, but the movie’s great strength is its tunnel vision – its commitment to the story of the individuals rather than the historical narrative they were part of. In the same way that The Stranger isn’t mired in period philosophy, Jarhead’s singular perspective gives it a timeless authenticity that (Kruger aside) isn’t dated by political cat-calling. Besides, at a time when Gulf War ‘experts’ are only too keen to bombard us with commentary, analysis, hype and hoopla, the non-judgmental focus on the lives of those who were there feels a lot like a political statement in itself. Ultimately, though, it’s the imagery that speaks volumes. As Mendes says, “What we remember about the Gulf War were clean images of tiny bombs hitting toy towns, bereft of any sense of human life at all.” Jarhead explodes the myth that this is a war we think we know with a shocking picture of its human cost. When Swofford takes a seat in a blast circle amongst the charred remains of women and children, it’s a picture that speaks far more eloquently of America’s presence in the Gulf than any academic op-ed. Jarhead is a new generation of war movie, embedded with its own cultural, media and cinematic influences. Rambo, The Deer Hunter and Apocalypse Now all make an appearance, but this isn’t Vietnam. The Gulf War is its own beast, and the people who fought it – who are still fighting it – are growing up in an era of new film reels, new music, new iconoclasts. In one of the film’s final scenes, a Vietnam vet joins the victory parade, but he’s a stranger to these young men – the war he fought was violently different, a fearful reminder of how lucky they were. “Can’t we get our own fuckin’ music?” asks one of the Marines as The Doors blast across the landscape. With Jarhead, finally, they’ve got their own fuckin’ movie 

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Anticipation. Right

from the green light, this was a ﬁlm of impeccable pedigree. Five

Enjoyment.

At ﬁrst it’s a disorientating ride, but the performances, direction and overall vision of Jarhead as a new breed of war movie are brave and brilliant. Four

In Retrospect. Haunting and thrilling. Expect the question of its politics to start arguments. Four

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An interview with Peter Sarsgaard LWLies: You spent some time with the Marines before shooting Jarhead – what did you take from that experience? peter sarsgaard: In the Marines, they create experiences for themselves to go through so that they bond, that are painful, you know? It’s about recognising the beauty of suffering. That’s not something that I can easily connect with.

LWLies: Sam Mendes said that this was a particularly difficult shoot. Was this idea of the ‘beauty of suffering’, almost intentionally transferred to the set? Do you think there was a deliberately fractious atmosphere to create those conditions of bonding? PS: Well, you know, in the movie when it looks like we’re in the middle of nowhere, we are in the middle of nowhere. And you’re separated from everyone you know and love, and you’re around all these guys who you don’t necessarily know or love, and... you form friendships, everybody gets in a fight. But I don’t think Sam created the specific things that happened. He... if you make it wet and moist and a little humid, mould will grow. He rarely did something to specifically fuck with somebody. LWLies: What kind of things went on behind the camera? PS: Good example: one of the actors... there were these styrofoam food trays, where if you don’t choose to eat with everyone you can carry it back to your trailer. And I think sometimes people feel a little animosity to someone who’s always carrying their food back to their trailer instead of eating with everyone else. So someone took a dump in it – took a shit in his tray – and closed it back up and put it in that actor’s trailer and left the heat very high. LWLies: Do you feel that a movie about the Gulf has a responsibility to be overtly political? PS: I’d say it does shed light on our current situation, but I don’t think it does it in a political way. I don’t think Sam made it apolitical to appease people.

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You have to look at his real intention for doing it, and that’s to ask, politics aside, what is our attraction to war – to any of this? Why do we all watch it? Why do we want to see him take the shot? Why do we want to see JFK’s pink mist? LWLies: How conscious are you of your own career? It’s kind of cool for actors these days to say, ‘I don’t think of my career.’ Is that true? PS: I think so. There’s no way to plan a career because you can’t – unless you’re very powerful – you can’t decide what scripts are out there. Lately I haven’t liked what scripts have been out there so I haven’t worked since April. And I might continue going with that for a while until it gets better. LWLies: So there’s no pressure to go out and make $20 million per movie? PS: No. I think once you start making that much money you’ve kind of screwed yourself. LWLies: How was working with Jake Gyllenhaal? You’re going out with his sister, Maggie, so did you come to the set with all sorts of great baby stories? PS: I would occasionally, in front of the other guys, talk about what a fox my girlfriend was... In a sort of, detailed way – in the way Marines would, you know what I mean? He would just go, ‘That’s disgusting...’ LWLies: We think that Sam Mendes is underappreciated; it’s cool to dislike him. What’s your take on that? PS: It’s what happens to everybody who’s good at what they do. Probably the worst thing that happened to Sam was winning an Academy Award. I always tell Maggie, it’s so nice to be an actor that people talk about as, you know, ‘should’ win awards, and I never do. Then nobody wants to take me down. But if I did win an award then I’d have a lot of people saying, you know, he really is kind of shit  For the full interview, visit www.littlewhitelies.co.uk

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“Here’s health to you and to our Corps Which we are proud to serve; In many a strife we’ve fought for life And never lost our nerve. If the Army and the Navy Ever look on Heaven’s scenes, They will ﬁnd the streets are guarded By United States Marines.” Marines’ Hymn

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LWLies: As an independent magazine that was started by people who love ﬁlm, the question we ask all the people we talk to is: what is it that you love about movies? Peter Sarsgaard: Oh, because... I think because I’m interested in dreaming. And I feel like, the way that everybody watches a movie is very similar to the way that we dream - the way that, like, in the middle of a dream you can go from being in the ofﬁce to being on a beach in a heartbeat. And I love that we all understand this language that we can’t verbalise, but a movie emulates it in some way. So you look around in the theatre and if you’re all watching a good movie together you feel like, we’re able to understand this, I think, because of the power of our dreams. And the fact that we all must be dreaming in a way that is kind of similar is... I think that’s extremely powerful.

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Editor

Danny Miller danny@littlewhitelies.co.uk

Incoming Editor Adrian Dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Enrico

Art Direction

Reviews Editor Jonathan Williams

Paul Willoughby www.paulwilloughby.com Rob Longworth www.roblongworth.com

adrian@littlewhitelies.co.uk

Contributing Editors Jonathan Crocker Kevin Maher

Features Editor

Matt Bochenski mattb@littlewhitelies.co.uk

jonw@littlewhitelies.co.uk

Back Section Editors

Website Editor Daniel Cullinan

David Jenkins david@littlewhitelies.co.uk Adrian Sandiford sandiford@littlewhitelies.co.uk

www.danielcullinan.com

Staff Writers

James Bramble james@littlewhitelies.co.uk Monisha Rajesh monisha@littlewhitelies.co.uk

Words, pictures, thanks...

Neil Bhatt, Tristan Burke, Sophie Cartwright, Clemmie Chant-Sempill, Miranda Collinge, Andy Davidson, Rob Deacon, Rob Drake, Philip Grisewood, Rich Heap, Matt Hill, Neon Kelly, Alysia Lipiarski, James Martin, Richard May, Lisa Miller, James Mottram, Luke Nestler, Lieu Pham, Charlie Phillips, Andrew Pirelli, Andy Potts, Sophia Schorr-Kon, Nicola Scorey, Dan Stewart, Brent Stirton, Ruth Tierney, Emma Tildsley, Steve Watson, Professor Robert J. White, Heather Whyley, Michael Williams, Catherine Wray, Nick Yates

Sales Director

Financial Director

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Marketing Director

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Distribution

Worldwide Magazine Distribution Limited

Kate Macefield kate@littlewhitelies.co.uk

Printing Wace

Published By

The Church Of London Ltd. Editorial, Little White Lies magazine, Suite 286, 14 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 1JY The articles appearing within this publication reflect the opinions and attitudes of their respective authors and not necessarily those of the publishers or editorial team.

ÂŠ TCOLondon Ltd. 2005 020 THE JARHEAD ISSUE

Te^q al vlr e^sb ql p^v clo vlropbisbp < bafqlof^i=ifqqibtefqbifbp+`l+rh ,7,IES STRIVES TO BE A FORUM FOR THE CREATIVE PASSIONATE DISCUSSION OF MOVIES AND NOW WE WANT YOU TO HAVE YOUR SAY 7HOEVER SENDS US THE MOST INTERESTING LETTER GETS TWO MONTHS FREE $6$ RENTAL FROM ,/6%&I,- %UROPE S NO $6$ RENTAL SERVICE 3WEET

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Whose is that severed head on the Issue 3 cover? My ďŹ&#x201A;atmate reckons itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Land of the Dead star Dennis Hopper, yet Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m sure itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Viggo Mortensen, linking with the A History of Violence review in the same issue. Can you lay this violent matter to rest please (thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a two pound coin in it for me!)?

Issue 3, a natty little treasure, but didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t respond hugely to the cover - it just didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have any speciďŹ c interplay with the icons or the signs of cinema - just a scary face. That being said, a top job all round, but itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s just that the ďŹ rst two covers were very clearly signalling â&#x20AC;&#x153;This is our unique take on cinema! This is how we do a cover!â&#x20AC;? Whereas this one was a bit, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Ooooh, look at the scary face!â&#x20AC;? Sorry if that hurts, but I am a fan, and fans are the worst critics.

The re-release of many horror ďŹ lms onto DVD seemed to spark a spate of excessive reanalysis of the horror genre. Corporations and poverty stricken directors exaggerated the subtexts and inďŹ&#x201A;uence of their movies in order to sell more copies of bad movies to consumers hungry for a decent horror movie and more extras. Your review of Dawn of the Dead rightly states the limited subtexts and clumsy metaphors of the ďŹ lm. However Dawn of the Dead is mainly an action horror ďŹ lm whose primary motivation is to exhilarate and repel. Can you not remember stumbling across this ďŹ lm as a teenager, watching it late at night and fantasising about being one of the central characters with the contents of a shopping mall at your disposal, no rules and guilt free annihilation of a whole band of zombies? The initial joy of horror movies is their primal and visceral thrill which Dawn of The Dead has in excess, forget the politics and social issues.

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-ARCĂĽ!TKINSON

2ICHARDĂĽ7ELLS

Sorry dude, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Dennis Hopper.

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Romeroâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rise as a horror iconoclast left a problematic legacy for the directors who followed. Such was the esteem in which he was held, slavish imitation stagnated the genre in the same breath it was created. As such, the joys of discovery have been strangely missing from the horror genre. Rather than look back, we look forward to a new dawn, led by the likes of Neil Marshall.

,9$)! ,/6%3 '%/2'% Hi. Your magazineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s proper good, but I started to read and decided youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re so wrong about Land of the Dead. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s good. Thus... Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s about how the stenches have begun to evolve, to learn to communicate. Their instincts have now developed into identiďŹ ers of something other than a â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;herdâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; mentality. I loved Romeroâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hippyish criticism of Western social advancement. Then again, maybe it could all happen â&#x20AC;&#x201C; like a time machine, not proven rather than not funny. Anyway, youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re wrong, Romero and co. have made a gut-wrenchingly great work. ,YDIAĂĽ7YSOCKI

Leaving aside the dubious notion of the ďŹ lmâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;plausibilityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, sure, thinking zombies could have made for fascinating screen stenches. But if the best Romero can do with them is some woolly barb at â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Western social advancementâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, then heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s just repeating the same schtick from 30 years ago, only with less style.

(%), 7!,,!#% Am I only the person who saw the clear Nazi undertones in Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were Rabbit? First youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re brainwashing rabbits because you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t like their culinary choices, next youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re gassing them for their sexuality. Nick Park: the Angel of Aardman. 4RICIA

$%,53)/.!, Are there any positions currently available at LWLies? Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m extremely eager to begin a career in (the better paid) area of ďŹ lm journalism. "EN

Love that enthusiasm, Ben. /.

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SOLDIERSâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;

STORIES

The truth about Iraq, Afghanistan and life in the armed forces from those who are still there.

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LWLies interviews two soldiers who experienced, first hand, the events that are shaping the world in which we live – events that the rest of us have only read about. From combat on the desert peninsula of Iraq, to drunken parties in Afghanistan, we asked for the low down on the real stories behind the headlines. Names and rank have been omitted, because theirs is a story the army doesn’t want them to tell. 024 THE JARHEAD ISSUE

The Marine.

LWLies: How would you characterise the Marines in your own words? Marine: We’re a thinking soldier. It’s not like the army. We pride ourselves on having better standards. When you’re with the army sometimes, they really are fucking useless. A lot of people join the army because there’s nothing else they can do, but a lot of people who join the Marines do it for five years before they do a career. LWLies: What do you actually have to go through to become a marine? Marine: Well, you do your 30 weeks training. Your first 15 is all your basic infantry skills: your drill; map reading; weapons. Your second 15 weeks you concentrate on what’s called the Commando phase, where you do your Commando tests.

LWLies: What are the Commando tests? Marine: In order, you do a nine mile speed march with all your kit, then you do the endurance course which is two and a half miles of going through tunnels and lakes and rivers, then a seven mile run back to camp. Then you’ve got the assault course, which is all the high-rope obstacles about 30-foot off the ground, then you finish off with your 30 miler over Dartmoor, which is a 30-mile run with 45 pounds and all your kit. LWLies: One of the clichés of the Marines that you see in films is the culture of beasting. Did you see anything like that? Marine: Yeah; we took beastings all the time. But, it’s just like... there are mental beastings that finish a lot of people off. And then obviously you’ve got the physical side of it as well where you’re taken up to the common and you’ve got to crawl through gorse bushes, firemen’s carries, crawl through mud, and you’re just doing that for hours on end. Once they’ve got two people to give up they’ll knock it on the head and give you a rest.

LWLies: What about the discipline? Is it a culture of self-discipline in the Marines? Marine: Yeah, definitely. There are Corporals and Sergeants who are training you but, ’cos it’s all so politically correct and everything, it’s really hard for them to get rid of people. So basically they just said to all the Section Commanders – I was a Section Commander – ‘Right, we don’t want him here. I don’t care what you do, but make sure he’s not here next week’. They left it up to the lads to get rid of him. LWLies: What could you do to get rid of these people? Marine: Just, er, stop helping them out if you like. Or basically a lot of lads are just threatened out. But like, all these people getting court martialled and things for beasting these lads in training – normal people call it bullying but it’s not really bullying. It’s what you’ve got to do in the military. It’s how the military works. Normal people don’t understand that, and they don’t really need to understand it either.

Marine: Well it was going from Kuwait, which is obviously an oil-rich country, and then flying over the border into Iraq. It was bombed-out. No decent buildings, no electricity anywhere, just really Third World. The poverty as well. Especially in the South because the South, where we were, was where the Marsh Arabs lived. They were the ones who were really oppressed by Saddam Hussein. They had nothing down there. LWLies: What was the day-to-day reality of your time there? In Jarhead the soldiers are like coiled springs because of all the waiting. Was it difficult like that? Marine: I didn’t mind it, but some people did. I think it just wound them up.

LWLies: On first hearing that you were being posted to Iraq, what were the thoughts that went through your head? Marine: It was the best thing I could have been told. It was what I joined the Marines to do.

LWLies: What was your experience of the conﬂict? How much of the combat did you see? Marine: We flew on to the Al Faw peninsula and had to push north, clearing it of all the enemy. We had to get all the Iraqis away from the oil well heads before they blew them up. You’d have all the helicopter gun-ships above you, to take out all the trenches and everything, then you’d go forward and clear them up. But there was a bit of, like, close-quarter fighting and that kind of thing. And that’s when these sorts of blokes who were idiots went a bit far.

LWLies: And when you look back now, when you remember Iraq, what is it that first hits you about your memories of the country?

LWLies: In what sense? Marine: Well just like – the Yanks especially just blow everything to bits and then go and find out

who they are later. And you had, sort of, innocent people who died sometimes. LWLies: What was the reaction of the people in charge to that? Marine: Obviously they didn’t like it. LWLies: How did you feel about it at the time, and how do you feel about it looking back now? Marine: It didn’t happen all the time. I suppose ashamed a bit of some of the things, but a lot of the things are necessary. LWLies: How did you feel about being there? Do you feel anything, or are you just there to do a job? Marine: A lot of the time you felt like you were doing good. I felt quite proud a lot of the time. You knew the people were happy to see you, it wasn’t as if they were spitting at you in the streets and stuff. And all the kids and everything, it was good to help them out... LWLies: Jarhead is partly about the isolation of being a Marine and part of a collective, there’s this sense that you can never really be yourself. Did you ever feel this sense of isolation? Marine: No, not at all. I’ve only ever felt at home in the Marines. When I was working in civilian jobs I felt out on a limb. But in the Marines you feel so close to the people you’re with. You’re like brothers because you live together and you do everything together. There’s no feeling of isolation. That’s the best thing about it. 

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The Officer.

to you. Certainly someone of above average intelligence and a decent education must look at going in as an officer. That doesn’t say that you can become one, but you’d be a fool not to try.

LWLies: How did you come to join the army? Officer: Well, I never really decided to join the army, I sort of drifted towards it. My father was in the army although he retired before I was born, but I found myself doing the A Levels and the degree that would let me join. And then the decision was already made.

LWLies: What are the fundamental differences then between an officer and a soldier? Officer: As a soldier you have to show that you can be one of the group and perhaps eventually a leader within that group. Whereas as an officer you are always expected to be on the outside of that group, leading that group.

LWLies: Was there ever a question of you not being an officer? Officer: No. It was always going to be as an officer.

LWLies: So who is life more lonely for – the officer who lives life on the outside, or the individual who is on the inside but maybe not really being himself? Officer: You’ve got the two extremes of loneliness. I think the most lonely person is the Commanding Officer. He has what we call the

LWLies: Why was that? Officer: Because of the opportunities open

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‘loneliness of command’. He is right at the top and has got to show the example, but cannot show his weakness. The soldier is firmly amongst the body of men but that is probably just as much of a curse because he can never be on his own. He has that internal loneliness. LWLies: What were the most memorable experiences of your time training to be an officer? Officer: The toughest thing is when you are knackered, wet, cold, hungry and pissed off, and expected to lead at the same time. You go from being a soldier with your head up your arse with a rifle, to being the officer who is supposed to lead. LWLies: Is it a very physical culture? Officer: There’s a culture of very physical training and therefore there is a culture of

physical correction – physical disciplining. Not by the formal trainers, but there will be some bullying – some sexual bullying, some persecution to an extent. The easiest way for your trainers to get you to do what they want is by punishing the whole group. And that will make you sort out the individuals in that group who are bringing on the punishment. LWLies: In what way? Officer: Maybe just the odd ganging up on someone and giving them a couple of punches, or getting them up at night and just sort of terrifying them – having the whole group around them, threatening them with violence. LWLies: Have you heard of incidents of things that have happened among squaddies that you as an officer would disapprove of? Officer: I’ve heard of the sexual bullying you can get among blocks of female soldiers – where you get a hardcore of lesbian soldiers who will bully the one or two straight girls in the block. That’s pretty tough to consider, pretty harsh. When you get that sort of predation on the female side we don’t know how to deal with it, generally. LWLies: You’ve served in Bosnia, Iraq and Afghanistan. Are you aware on a day-to-day basis of yourself as a political presence out there? Is it something you are forced to think about as an officer? Officer: Yeah, you are. You’re encouraged to have an opinion. But of course we don’t give our opinion publicly. We aren’t used as voice pieces, and we don’t make political comments because we’re not political animals.

LWLies: Is it frustrating? Do you have political comments to make? Officer: Yeah, I think most people do. I didn’t agree with the second Iraq War, but that didn’t stop me going and serving there, because actually when I got there I knew I could do some good. LWLies: Have you been at the sharp end in these places? Officer: No I haven’t. I mean, everywhere you go in these sorts of areas, no matter where you are, you can be at the centre of something because there is no obvious front line. It can come and find you. It’s a case of, whenever you go out of the camp there is that threat, and it’s a constant threat everywhere I’ve been – especially Basra and Kabul. The Basra one was very very real. There were occasions when we’d driven past crossroads 10 minutes before someone else had been caught there by a bomb. So you never know. I’ve been in camps where we’ve had rockets come in and explode... LWLies: How did you find yourself reacting? Officer: Surprisingly it’s all quite slow. Because you’re not in a constant state of fear, it takes a while for you to realise what’s happening. Generally, it’s slightly jovial. LWLies: What do you do for relief then in an environment like that, which to a certain degree must be stressful? Officer: The camps quickly become quite comfortable these days – we learnt our lessons from Bosnia. LWLies: What was Bosnia like?

Officer: When I first got to the mountain we were manning, and bear in mind this is November through to March, we were still in tents. But you’re working maybe a 16, 17-hour day and then if anything else happens on top of that you obviously just get on with it. So the downtime you get is quite limited. LWLies: But there must still be things to do for relief – you know, what the training videos don’t tell you... Officer: Yeah, some of the high points are the things you get up to that you’re not necessarily supposed to. You know – getting out and checking out the Chinese brothels in Kabul. LWLies: Any good? Officer: Awful. Absolutely awful, which didn’t stop some of the guys from using them. The sort of parties you get up to in the army you would pay an absolute fortune to go to in normal life. You always have a venue, good themes and cheap booze, good food, good service, and they tend to be full of people who know how to party. And who are probably ready for a party after a six-month tour. LWLies: What’s the most outrageous thing you’ve seen? Officer: In Basra last year a load of Territorial Army nurses were sent back from theatre because four or five of them had set up their own brothel in the hospital base. LWLies: No shit? Officer: I think they tried to charge someone too much and he blew their cover 

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Intel Debrief

34 > The number of countries in the Allied Coalition, including Afghanistan, Syria and France. 500,000 > The number of US troops stationed in the Persian Gulf. 148 > The number of US battle casualties. 145 > The number of US non-battle casualties. 15 > The number of US women KIA. 1/3 > The proportion of Americans killed by friendly fire. 160,000 > The number of Coalition forces. 24 > The number of British casualties. 9 > The number of British casualties killed by US friendly fire. 100,000 > The number of Iraqi military casualties (estimated). 35,000 > The number of Iraqi civilian casualties (official Iraqi estimate). 40 > The number of SCUD missiles fired at Israel by Iraq between January 18th and February 26th, 1991. 71,204 > The number of Iraqi POWs released to Syrian control. 60-70 billion > The cost in dollars of the First Gulf War. 50 > The percentage of that cost paid for by Kuwait, Saudi Arabia and other Gulf States. 112 million > The number of barrels of oil in Iraq’s proven reserves. 1991 > The year that American oil companies were prohibited from investing in or buying Iraqi oil. 500,000 > The number of Iraqi children who have died as a direct result of UN sanctions. 185,780 > The number of Gulf War veterans who sought service-related medical assistance from the Dept of Veterans Affairs. 14 billion > The cost per year to the Iraqi economy of overproduction of oil in Kuwait in 1990. 42,600 > The total number of strike sorties flown by Allied air corps. 88,500 > Total tonnage of bombs dropped by Allied air corps. 159,238 > Number of US Gulf War vets classed as ‘disabled’. 20,000 > The number of birds killed by oil slicks as a result of Iraqi actions.

The First Gulf War by numbers.

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strong language, moderate sex and violence 15 Contains

COMING TO CINEMAS SOON

boys’ toys WAR: never been so much fun.

words by david jenkins

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Airfix.

Airfix kits were the toy of choice for those kids who didn’t really know what they wanted for Christmas. In theory, there was something inexplicably alluring about the prospect of colouring your own Lancaster Bomber in enamel paints, but in truth, the exacting patience Airfix kits emphatically required was a virtue few teenagers possessed in abundance. Invented in 1939 by Hungarian businessman Nicholas Kove, the first ever Airfix toy was the Golden Hind, Sir Francis Drake’s famous ship in which he set off round the world in 1577. Quite predictably, the all time best selling Airfix model is the Spitfire Mark 1, underscoring the idea that these models were principally marketed towards the type of people who watched Where Eagles Dare on Saturday afternoons, rather than cowboy-hat-wearing rapscallions who fight with plastic swords in the middle of Pizza Hut.

Risk.

For any budding Rommels out there, Risk was a simple way to crush continental armies and still get home in time

for Telly addicts. risk is a strategy board game produced by the Parker brothers, but probably more interesting is the fact that albert Lamourrise, director of French classic, The Red Balloon which won the Grand Prize at Cannes in 1956, invented it. it makes little attempt to accurately simulate military strategy, nor does it convey an appreciable sense of how large the world is, of how expensive the logistics of long campaigns can be, or of how good or bad luck can turn the tide at crucial moments of a close-fought military campaign. it’s purely a matter of dog-eat-dog. it should come as no surprise that bill Gates is a fan.

CAP GUNs.

Cops and robbers, Cowboys and indians, Zionists and Gentiles; whatever your playground game of choice, cap guns were an integral part of all our factionalist fantasies. The petrol station attendant’s worst nightmare, cap guns have fallen slightly from the radar now that their distant cousin, bb guns, are being sold at local newsagents for as little as a pound a pop. and you certainly can’t coerce your mates into

coughing up their Flumps money with a cap gun. due to safety laws, cap guns now have to be sold with a red or yellow cap on the muzzle to make them easily identifiable from the real thing, but as most 11 year-old boys with a modicum of ingenuity will surely attest, a pair of your dad’s pliers and a little bit of heart go a long, long way.

PLAsTiC sOLDiErs.

despite the fact that toy soldiers were limited in terms of what you could actually do with them (line them up on the settee, put them on... the window sill?), they were saved by the fact that you could effortlessly combine them with any other of your toys for instant grand scale military action. some even dared to argue that they were better than action figures – with an action figure you only got one guy, but with toy soldiers, you got an entire platoon every time. The largest manufacturer of these plastic toys during their heyday in the 40s and 50s was the new york based Louis Marx and Company. The figurines themselves were customarily moulded on soldiers who fought in world war

ii or the vietnam war (though not literally, as their tiny size attests) and they came in a range of colours and poses. see the bazookaman with a glazed look of destruction upon his face, and see the rookie with his listless smile and low slung riﬂe: was he savvy to the fact that a shooter was looking to put one in his brain?

Gi JOE.

if ever there was a toy that represented war as merely a competition to see who could get the most confirmed kills, then Gi joe was it. with his khaki jumpsuit and pederast’s beard, joe and his kung Fu Grip would invariably take on anything that crossed his path, all to the glee of millions of young consumers. in fact, so penetrating was the image of G.i. joe that in 2000, Harvard psychiatrist Harrison Pope claimed in his book The Adonis Complex that joe’s unreasonably low body fat and disproportionate muscles led to eating disorders, steroid usage and general muscle dysmorphia in teenage boys. if joe were real, he’d probably be tearing Pope a new asshole about now 

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If Saddam Hussein’s literary career proves one thing, it’s that the pen really isn’t mightier than the sword.

words by adrian sandiford illustration by paul willoughby

War. Huh. What is it good for?

All together now – absolutely nothing. But wait, not so fast. If Edwin Starr and countless others are going to pose such a serious question, it seems unfair to rush to a two-word conclusion. If someone had sat Edwin down for a weekend war-film marathon, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so hasty: Platoon; Schindler’s List; The Killing Fields; Apocalypse Now; Full Metal Jacket... The list goes on. And it’s a list of some of the most exhilarating and important films ever made. Without the horrors of war, they wouldn’t exist. Admittedly, the genocide of millions and the heartache of a generation is a disproportionate price to pay for a slice of finest Spielberg; the evil of napalm and the murder of children not worth trading for a bloated Brando. Nevertheless, the fact remains that war has inspired some of our culture’s finest artistic moments. In Iraq, the relationship between war and creativity took a turn for the literary. From Anthony Swofford’s involvement in Desert Storm, aka Gulf War I, came Jarhead: A Marine’s Chronicle of the Gulf War, now one more flick to add to the genre’s canon. With Gulf War II – another imaginatively titled sequel – came further creative use of words, though this time it was the leaders, not the grunts, who indulged their fictional urges. Tony Blair took the hack’s approach of downloading from the internet to cut and paste an imaginative account of Iraq’s WMD capabilities. But the object of his tall tales weaved his own words into a far more romantic political fairy tale. As the unstoppable military power of America geared up for another desert skirmish, Saddam sat at his desk putting the finishing touches to his fourth tome – adding yet another line to his CV. Saddam Hussein: dictator, murderer, and novelist. Saddam’s literary career began during a gap in his schedule between warring against Western infidels. Following the 1991 conflict, Iraq’s favourite dictator turned his hand to writing, presumably unable to fill his diary with executing political rivals, gassing Kurds, and violating human rights. In 2000, the fruits of his labour were unleashed, a 180-page romantic burkha-ripper called Zabibah and the King.

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“Following the 1991 conflict, Iraq’s favourite dictator turned his hand to writing, presumably unable to fill his diary with executing political rivals, gassing Kurds, and violating human rights.” The novel is a crime against the humanities. Saddam’s rambling, overblown prose tells the story of an enlightened King who sacrifices a life of luxury for the sake of his people. The King is involved in a relentless war against invaders but manages to overcome them thanks to his love for a young married woman. The beautiful heroine, Zabibah, falls for the King as they talk endlessly of politics, power, loyalty and betrayal. Sample dialogue includes such gems as Zabibah informing the King that, “the people need strict measures so that they can feel protected.” She remains fearful, however, of her cruel husband. It’s an obvious political allegory with the three key characters representing Saddam (the King), the Iraqi people (Zabibah) and the US (the husband). The most telling section comes when Zabibah is viciously raped and killed by her husband, an event that takes place in the novel on 17 January – the same day the US-led coalition began bombing Baghdad in 1991. In Zabibah, however, history is rewritten when the King symbolically defeats the evil husband, as Saddam attempts to create his own emotional and political utopia within the novel. Despite being a first foray into the fickle world of contemporary literature, Zabibah and the King was, surprise!, an astounding success. The Iraqi media gave the book rave reviews and it was stocked in all of the country’s public libraries. Eventually it was even adapted into a musical (there are no plans yet for a West End opening). Maybe more debut novelists should consider combining their writing with a career as a brutal dictator; it’s a sure-fire guarantee of success. But it wasn’t just the Iraqi people who embraced (on pain of death) Saddam’s work. The CIA seized on the novel as a way of gaining an insight into their enemy’s mind. After three months of intense study the US spooks came to the ground-breaking conclusion that Saddam believed he should “give orders, rule and lead the people, who must obey and satisfy his wishes”. Thank God for American intelligence. Further dic-lit offerings soon followed. Emboldened by Zabibah’s reception, or becoming evermore delusional, Saddam continued his themes of love and war in the 600-page The Fortified Castle (also known as The Impregnable Fortress). This time around the romantic plot revolved around an exsoldier who, upon returning from the 1991 war, falls in love with a girl from northern Iraq. Meanwhile, a servant runs off with his master’s sister. And the politics? An indication of the author’s twisted hope for improved relations with the Kurds (thousands of whom he massacred with chemical weapons) and a feeling of betrayal by the Kuwaitis. Next came Men and the City, an allegory of the Ba’ath party’s rise to power, and a thinly veiled autobiography presenting Saddam as a powerful and heroic leader. Again. At this stage of the great dictator’s literary career, the pressing business of running a country, and the dire state of Iraq’s international relations intensified. Having completely lost touch with reality, Saddam chose to complete his fourth epic, Be Gone, Demons! (or Get Out, You Cursed One!), instead of readying his forces for the Coalition of the Willing’s imminent 2003 invasion. Be Gone, Demons! is a tale of the heroic Salim (read: Saddam) uniting Arab tribes in Iraq to defeat a Jewish-Christian plot to take over the country, led by the infidel intruder Ezekiel (the US/Jews). It’s a reflection of how the far-right, far-gone leader hoped things would turn out, a vainglorious attempt to craft his own legacy. The most haunting passage tells of an Arab leading an army into the enemy’s land where they topple two monumental towers. With the end of the regime upon him, Saddam spent his last days writing. He finished the novel on 18 March 2003, two days before Gulf War II began. With the war in full swing, the presidential publisher Al-Hurriah (“Freedom”) managed to print 40,000 copies of the latest masterpiece on 10 April, the day after Baghdad fell to US forces. Saddam Hussein was unavailable for comment. He’s currently busy being tried for crimes against humanity and, remarkably, working on novel number five – provisionally entitled The Great Awakening. Its award prospects? Slim to none. Bit like his life expectancy  034 THE JARHEAD ISSUE

Saddam Hussein isn’t the first dictator with literary pretensions. Libya’s Colonel Gaddafi has published a number of short stories, while Hitler famously began life as a painter before throwing his brush down in frustration and going postal. The current mass murdering pin-up is the poetry writing and people killing Bosnian Serb fugitive Radovan Karadzic. The war criminal’s new collection of poetry, Under the Left Breast of the Century, was released to a muted critical response and international disgust in October 2005.

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Well Weapon BLOCKBUSTERS HAVE ALWAYS HAD A HARD-ON FOR HARDWARE. BUT IS HOLLYWOOD’S FIXATION WITH WEAPONRY A FANTASY FETISH, OR ARE MOVIES ARMING THE SOLDIER OF TOMORROW?

WORDS BY SOPHIE CARTWRIGHT

aliens. m41a PUlse riFle.

The Alien saga contains some of the most impressive firepower in movie history, but it’s Jim Cameron’s second instalment that reaches a peak of hardcore hardware with 4.9 kilograms of erect weaponry. The M41A pulse rifle is the weapon of choice for the fictional United States Colonial Marine Corps. Holding up to 99 rounds per clip, plus one in the chamber, the M41A features caseless ammunition, and can be set to fully automatic, semi-automatic or attention-grabbing four-round bursts. Attached to the underbelly of the rifle is a handy grenade launcher in case you really need to get noticed. This super-gun is in fact made up of two real-life weapons: the M1A1 Thompson submachine gun (an updated version of the 1920s gangster favourite, used by the Americans during World War II, and adopted by the Chinese in the Korean War) and a Remington M870 shotgun, with additional bits from a Franchi SPAS-12 thrown in for good measure. Where these guns are fully functional in the real world, the idea of caseless ammunition is still in development. Although dangerous and volatile,

stripping the casing lightens the overall weight of a weapon, creating a greater cyclic rate of fire at a max of around 2000 rounds per minute, as well as improving the speed of cartridge feeding and accuracy. The downside? A higher risk of ‘cook-offs’ – where the internal chamber temperature reaches potentially damaging levels. The Heckler & Koch G11 was one weapon that utilised caseless ammunition, but as yet it hasn’t made it into the field. Reasons behind its shelving are unclear as initial testing at Fort Benning in Georgia suggested it was ready for production. If adopted as standard equipment, the Heckler and Koch G11 could change the nature of warfare.

minoriTy rePorT soniC gUn. Minority Report is a

melting pot of technical fantasies – from PreCogs to interface systems, spider-like agents to widespread retinal security. While pre-cognitive detective work evades our boys in blue at the moment, the concept of non-fatal sonic weaponry may not be so elusive. So sophisticated is the governance of law and order in 2054 Washington DC that catching pre-criminals before the point of malice means no need for heavy armoury. Instead, disabling

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weaponry that renders a target immobile are handy components of the futuristic cop’s work-belt. The sonic gun is standard issue, utilising concentrated sound waves to bring would-be perps to their knees. The CEO of American Technology Corporation, William Norris, developed a very real sonic weapon in 2003 that resembles an ’80s ghettoblaster. Firing ‘sonic bullets’ along a focused channel, sound resonates up to 145 decibels, over 50 times the human pain threshold. Where past problems with the concept lie in the omni-directional nature of sound – losing the intensity of acoustic blasts to the greater atmosphere – Norris’ device uses a narrow beam of sound which allows the noise to be directed at a target, saving the operator and innocent bystanders from its effects. Known as “The Sound of Force Protection”, the Long Range Acoustic Device is another sonic weapon which was acquired by the U.S. Army and Marine Corps in 2004, and added to their list of arms in Iraq. The imposing 45-pound spotlight-style device, which measures 33 inches in diameter, has a sonic reach of 300 metres. Seen as a ‘peace-keeping’ measure, the LRAD gives armed forces the flexibility of added time with which to close in on their target. And then shoot the fucker.

Universal Soldier. UniSols. Feuding soldiers Jean-Claude

Van Damme and Dolph Lundgren are perfectly cast in Roland Emmerich’s B-flick. After killing each other in the Vietnam War, their bodies are held in cryogenic stasis and then ‘recycled’ into UniSols by a top-secret wing of the US Army. These fighting machines become weapons in their own right, their bodies powerhouses of stealth, speed and strength. As far back as 1960, military labs were racing

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to create a ‘Man Amplifier’ or exoskeleton that granted soldiers additional strength and agility in combat. Though funding and technology hindered the project at the time, 2001 saw the US Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) reassess the concept. Initial research by DARPA employed pneumatic muscles and magnets to power battle suits and artificial limbs. These suits allowed the average soldier to carry heavier packs, work with more substantial weaponry and move at a faster rate. In addition to providing added strength they are also expected to provide a total body protection system. Nanotechnology embedded in the fabric of the soldiers’ clothes could be employed to transmit data between sensors, which could in turn inform units of their relative positions, eliminating the need for bulky transmission equipment. The use of microreactors could potentially detect injury and apply required pressure – all without the soldier consciously doing anything.

The Terminator. T800 Cyborg. Before Aliens

came Cameron’s purest vision of the future of warfare. The Terminator is a ‘cybernetic organism’, a robotic creation covered in organic matter to give it the appearance of a human form. Created by the self-aware Skynet organisation in the aftermath of nuclear armageddon, the T800 utilises frictionless bearings between its joints to increase agility and speed. Fully protected by a hyperalloy sheath, it houses an additional power source enabling the machine to recharge mid-mission. Unlike earlier versions, the T800 is equipped with an imitation of the human brain, which has the capacity to learn and develop new skills and tackle new situations. Reports this year have drawn attention to the Talon robot developed by US defence contractor

Foster-Miller. Deployed primarily in bomb disposal operations, the Talon may not be Terminator standard just yet, but is nevertheless equipped with infrared vision, four cameras, a floodlight and a claw-tipped arm. It can also withstand chemical and biological attacks. Though the Talon can only work with the aid of an operator who directs the machine by way of a remote control, Security Policy Analyst, John Pike, who runs the website globalsecurity. org observes, “First you had human beings without machines, then you had human beings with machines, and finally you have machines without human beings.” And this is just the latest in a long list of robotic machinery being developed for use in the field. Initially used on search and retrieve missions, PackBots were instrumental in checking for bombs and booby traps in Afghanistan, laying

down cover smoke and finding the most accessible routes through rough terrain. At a cost of up to $200,000 each, these robots may seem a ridiculous expense, but when compared with the cost of training a soldier to do the same job, and without the added danger of threat to life, the cost becomes a comparable expense. The army hasn’t stopped here, however. The R-Gator robot, which acts as a military ‘scout’, based on the John Deere M-Gator military vehicle currently in operation in Iraq, is set to make its debut in 2006.

doom. biomeTriC WeaPons.

Based on id Software’s seminal shooter, Doom is an apt extension of its gaming relative – all action and little substance. What matters, though, is that armourer Richard Hooper has done an admirable job of bringing Sarge’s impressive arsenal to life.

Each weapon is based on realistic counterparts – either built by super-sizing or reconfiguring existing guns and grenade launchers, including the M16, the M203 grenade launcher and the Heckler & Koch G-36. The pride of the art department however, has to be the adaptation of the BFG9000. The jewel of the game’s crown, the ‘Big Fucking Gun’ is capable of wiping out any adversary with its green plasma load. The film version of the weapon (called the Bio Force Gun) is the only gun that was built from scratch. Weighing about 10 kilograms and emblazoned with LED lights, the Y-fronted machine (made to symbolise the Y chromosome) is as elaborate as she is powerful. It is also, however, a pure fantasy, a technogeek’s wet dream. The cumbersome 100 kilogram chaingun, however, does exhibit some features currently coming into usage in the US; specifically, palm

print recognition. Biometric technology allows only the intended operator to fire a weapon, as their specific palm mapping acts as a signature or body bar code of ownership. Useful if your arms get into the wrong hands, but annoying and potentially life threatening if your own weapon locks or runs out of ammo. After being granted $1.1 million of funding by the US Department of Justice, scientists at the New Jersey Institute of Technology expect to deliver their version of the ‘smart gun’ early next year. The gun, which has been in testing at the U.S. Army Armament Research, Development and Engineering Centre (ARDEC) in Picatinny for over a year, utilises palm recognition technology to create a ‘safer’ personalised weapon. If successful, it will only be a matter of time before this feature becomes a commonplace component of warfare across the globe  039

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FROM WAGNER TO THE BEACH BOYS, NO WAR FILM IS COMPLETE WITHOUT AN ICONIC SCORE. BUT WHAT OF THE RECORDS THAT INSPIRED REAL SOLDIERS IN CONFLICTS ACROSS THE GLOBE? LWLIES PRESENTS THE MUSIC OF CHOICE OF ACTUAL GRUNTS FROM THE LAST 150 YEARS; THE ULTIMATE MIX TAPE FOR THE PROFESSIONAL SOLDIER.

Off to war? Grab your iPod and take the defining music from over a century of conflict. WORDS BY JONATHAN WILLIAMS ILLUSTRATIONS BY PAUL WILLOUGHBY

Julia War HOWe (words) Battle Hymn of the Republic

irVinG Berlin Oh How I Hate To Get Up In The Morning

This marching anthem, sung by Confederate soldiers to the tune of ‘John Brown’s Body’ in the American Civil War was written by Julia War Howe to inspire the South to victory. Triumphant righteousness was the message blasted out by the boys who truly believed that they had God on their side (and a black man behind carrying their pack). Howe’s lyrics were, however, some of the first to fall foul of political correctness when the line “Let us die to make men free” was replaced with the less morbid “Let us live to make men free”. This song is still sung today, but has fallen out of favour in recent years as it has come to represent an underbelly of US history that some Americans would rather forget.

The trenches of World War I aren’t a place you’d expect to find classic song writing. But those that still found some fun in the world enjoyed Irving Berlin’s famous polemic against the bugler who disturbed his slumber on a daily basis, written by Berlin when he was himself serving in the infantry. ‘Oh How I Hate...’ was considered daring at the time for its macabre theme – the very thing that made it so appealing to the troops. Featuring lines like, “Someday I’m going to murder the bugler, someday they’ll find him dead” these violent images offered light relief with a shell burst of bitterness. Berlin’s record sold over 1.5 milion copies all over the world to men who awoke everyday to the biggest  slaughter of the 20th century.

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Tupac Shakur Something Wicked Samuel Barber Adagio for Strings Glen Miller In the Mood In World War II, Vera Lynn’s ‘We’ll Meet Again’ may have been the most requested song of soldiers in the field, but on leave, British and American troops wanted to dance, and by far the most popular tune was Glen Miller’s ‘In the Mood’. You know him from Jive Bunny, but Miller’s famous sound was never realised more effectively than in this energetic record that got the GIs and girls moving wildly across the UK and US. ‘In the Mood’ starts with a strong, bright trumpet riff that breaks in to a sweaty rhythm snapped up by soldiers desperate to unwind and release the nervous tension that kept them alive in combat. They loved it precisely because it had absolutely nothing to do with the war – its playful sound was a world away from the dogged reality of wartime life.

Jimi Hendrix If 6 was 9 As Michael Herr made clear in Despatches, his seminal account of the Vietnam war, Hendrix was the man for the soldiers out in the jungle. He had bigger hits, such as ‘Purple Haze’ and ‘Voodoo Chile’, or indeed his anthemic version of ‘The Star Spangled Banner’, but nothing summed up the feeling of the troops on the ground better than ‘If 6 was 9’. The simplest of riffs, set to a lethargic but powerful rhythm, complemented by Hendrix’s casual drawl, it sent a message of carefree indifference that spoke to soldiers whose lives were defined by uncertainty. His music was popular with soldiers and anti-war protesters alike, many of whom were surprised when Hendrix, an ex-paratrooper himself, spoke out in support of the war in Vietnam.

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An unofficial anthem of mourning in the US, made famous in Oliver Stone’s Platoon, the ‘Adagio for Strings’ has connected people to the futility and despair of combat in a way that words and images can’t; its acute emotional resonance an appropriate accompaniment to military grief. Played at the funerals of John F Kennedy, Teddy Roosevelt and at the memorial service in New York after the attacks on the World Trade Centre, Barber’s ‘Adagio’ (inspired by a description of a rivulet gradually becoming a large river) is now regularly requested at military funerals around the world. Its heartbreaking sorrow thus connected with those who have died for a cause, as the story of the river mirrors that of our own lives and the universally recognised pain and melancholy of that journey.

ACDC Hell’s Bells Using music as a weapon is not a new concept. The Scots capitalised on the only natural use for the sound of the bagpipes in the 18th century, using them to drive back their enemies, while in the first Gulf War in ’92, the US Army PSY Corps used ACDC for a similar purpose. Although beloved by the grunts, ‘Hell’s Bells’, one of ACDC’s more raucous numbers, was considered the perfect torture for the delicate ears of Iraq’s National Guard. In the sequel, it was blasted out at an impressive volume towards Fallujah, accompanied by songs from Motörhead and Metallica. Though the success of this initiative was never properly measured, the US military believed in it enough to commission proposals from audio suppliers for heavy-duty speakers that they can take in to future battle strapped to Black Hawk choppers. Bet they love the smell of napalm in the morning too.

“When we rolled across the border, we were listening to Tupac” said one US marine, recounting the start of Operation Desert Storm. Tupac Shakur was an icon for a generation of soldiers; a thug, a motherfucker who would take on the world and stand triumphant at the end, arms raised in a V. That was the idea anyway, and US soldiers idolised the rapper to the point where his influence was felt in their everyday operations. Tupac’s songs were made for soldiers in combat – “More than an adversary, I’m very quick, I’m ready to hit ’em with this gift, I’m equipped to kick” were the words funnelled through the headsets of soldiers as they moved out of Kuwait in M-1 Abrams tanks. Once in Iraq, the grunts renamed Albu Hishma, “Tupac” because it appeared on their maps as “Albu Shakur”. Tupac’s music was a crucial bond to American culture for troops serving 12 years ago, and represented the defiant anger that characterised the atmosphere of those fighting at the time, even if the mood back home was more suspicious. When Tupac died aged 25 in 1995, his popularity only increased, and he is still the most popular artist among American soldiers serving in Iraq today.

Kanye West Jesus Walks The modern soldier marches to a different song, and it’s a serious sound that’s currently motivating the troops in Iraq. Kanye West’s ‘Jesus Walks’ starts with the words, “Yo... we at war”, and although the fight he had in mind was the war against sin on the streets of America, its military metaphors and strong tattoo, beat out by the backing singers at a marching pace, have made it the perfect anthem for thinking soldiers serving in Iraq today. Men contemplating the consequences and relevance of what they are doing in combat still take comfort in the ideas that reassured their forefathers; that as they walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Jesus is with them 

work, rest, press play

stores throughout the UK. see website for full details

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Serbia Calling DURING THE BLOODY BOSNIAN CONFLICT OF THE MID-’90S, INDEPENDENT SERBIAN RADIO STATION, B92, TOOK THE CHART WAR TO A WHOLE NEW LEVEL.

WORDS BY KATE MACEFIELD ILLUSTRATION BY PHILIP GRISEWOOD

“Two

of Britain’s most popular pop groups have begun the biggest chart war in 30 years. The Manchester band Oasis and their archrivals Blur released new singles this week, each hoping to reach the top spot. The music industry says they haven’t seen anything like it since the Beatles fought it out with the Rolling Stones in the ’60s.” BBC News report, August 1995. After 16 years of Tory rule, a creative uprising transformed British music, fashion, media and youth in the ’90s. It anticipated a political change that offered freedom and fresh hope to a grey nation – a government that could finally shove two fingers up at America, leading a country that would create its own heroes, be proud of its cultural roots and inspire a generational sense of national euphoria. The Cool Britannia campaign was a political reformation that replaced the old guard with a new, progressive liberty. Idealism? For sure. But across Europe the ’90s offered an object lesson in just how important this freedom would be to any nation that called itself a democracy. And for those countries at the sharp end of this historical moment, there was far more at stake in the clash of art, music and politics than mere international bragging rights. Even under Conservative rule, mid-’90s Britain was still a nation of multi-party politics – we had access to an independent media and the right to vote was a given. The chance to make a simple personal choice about music,

to back your band and help them to the top of the charts was, by British standards, a god-given right. But while the nation snorted coke from glossy lads’ mags and lounged on furry Union Jack duvet covers, across Europe, in the Baltic, something more sinister had been taking place. Under Communist rule in Yugoslavia, free speech and media had been railroaded, social reformation was an impossibly thick stonewall and multiparty politics was a bitter, mirthless joke. The country had, however, been living in a state of reasonable economic afﬂuence since the wiping of the national debt after the death of Tito in 1980, a debt that had run up during World War II. Yugoslav’s considered themselves free from the restraints of their Bloc brothers – countries such as Poland, Hungary or Eastern Germany – and culturally felt themselves far more aligned with the Western world when it came to clothing brands, living costs and, crucially, music. Step forward Slobodan Milosevic. Just as new political ideas were about to transform Britain’s cultural climate, Milosevic fomented a radical new ideology that would lead to the tragic and bloody breakdown of Yugoslavia. He had won support delivering powerfully nationalist speeches against the Communist bureaucracy. His rule would promote the strengths of the independent state of Serbia as a democracy, provide a better standard of living for its people and return to the rose-tinted way of life that was remembered only by a few, but was spoken of by many in wistful voices. 

045

You are thrown of the unknown, into a world of consolidarity an the revolution. In 1990

as the Stone Roses were playing Spike Island and Britain was at the advent of its cultural rollercoaster, Milosevic became President of the state of Serbia. Totalitarianism reared its hideous head once more in Europe. During the next five years, the Yugoslav army moved through Croatia and Slovenia before beginning a policy of ethnic cleansing in Bosnia that led to the deaths of tens of thousands of Bosnian Muslims. To gain support, Milosevic continued to whip his people into a national frenzy, exercising complete control over the state media. The music of the youth movement would be a major strategy in his game plan. The state-run radio stations began to blast the airwaves with a new wave of music. A manufactured sound tagged ‘turbo-folk’, it was intended to invoke a rabid nationalism with its ‘hip’ modernisation of traditional music, representative of Serbia’s former, idyllic way of life. Sounding much like a sinister brand of cheesy Euro-pop, these insular tunes were designed to suppress any affinity with the outside world. They internalised the creative expression of Serbia’s youth, producing new national touchstones. These new icons pacified any unrest, creating ready-made bonds of familiarity within the youth culture. Unfortunately for Milosevic he didn’t have the likes of the Gallagher brothers to back him. Some weren’t going to be brainwashed by the state. A new musical underground was emerging. In his book This is Serbia Calling, Matthew Collin details the rise of Radio B92 in urban Belgrade in the ’90s: “Welcome to the surreal life. A city where everything is possible, and everything appears normal, but nothing is as it seems. Welcome to Belgrade, city of chaos.” You are thrown into a culture of the unknown, dragged into a world of activists, consolidarity and music. This is the revolution.

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From

the remnants of two like-minded student stations emerged one standpoint. Radio B92 was a collective of politically charged minds who believed in the power of ‘acting on beliefs’, forming an underground radio station that brought together their radical viewpoints with a love of rock ‘n’ roll. Launched in 1990 amidst Milosevic’s already-evident corruption of power, barbaric politics and the trash emitted through the propaganda-driven channels, B92’s manifesto was deceptively simple: to “play rock ‘n’ roll and tell the truth about what was really going on”. Held together by founder and frontman, Veran Matic, the station acted solely on its strong, passionate beliefs in a reformed system, leading the city’s alternative music scene with an international blend drawn from the likes of grunge kings Nirvana, Bristol’s own underground, Massive Attack, and that timeless legend, Lou Reed. At a time when Milosevic demanded nationalism, B92 were throwing back their quota and refusing to conform. Little did Matic and his team know that they would soon be a major player in a resistance movement, fighting a lethal battle using the modern cultural allies of radio, film, music and the internet, which would, in turn, lead to one of the greatest victories of social change to be experienced in modern political history. From its launch in 1990, B92’s popularity grew steadily as Milosevic accelerated his underhand grip on the leadership. Rumours began circulating through the city that the President had manipulated the media to gain his landslide victory. Discontented citizens tuned to B92 who broadcast their own agenda, questioning the leadership and reporting on the opposition. It was here that politics and culture joined forces. Behind it all, the rock ‘n’ roll ethos enshrined in its playlist was a constant, inarguable reminder of the power of youth. They began amassing a following of likeminded activists who were capable of making waves by the sheer passion

into a culture dragged activists, d music. This is with which they opposed the system. The underground youth movement was threatening to rise to the surface. A mass demonstration was arranged for March 9th 1991 in Belgrade. Milosevic was twitchy. The rally led to riots in the streets, violent skirmishes, the police targeted tear gas directly at demonstrators’ heads. Watching from the studio live on air, Matic grabbed his microphone and began reporting directly on what was happening on the streets below. The demonstrators won the fight but the riots left two dead – that afternoon Radio B92 was closed down by Serbian police, told that it could only go on broadcasting if it played music and reports from the state-run news agency, Tanjug. It refused. The authorities anticipated the effect of the station’s closure. The next day the police were still occupying the studio, but B92 was told they could begin broadcasting music again from noon, no news. The DJs, glad to be back on the air but still unwilling to subscribe to the control of the leadership, came up with a plan to circumnavigate the information blackout and continue broadcasting their message to the audience. Collin: “They hunted out any and every record they could find which described, in sound and lyrics, the violent clashes of the previous day and the state of high tension on the streets outside – rabble rousing anthems like The Clash’s punk war cry ‘White Riot’ and Thin Lizzy’s ‘The Boys Are Back In Town’. It was an amazing, defining moment – sound and action fused solid.” Another record played repeatedly was Public Enemy’s ‘Fight The Power’; one generation of radicalised musicians inspiring another.

As the

resistance movement continued throughout the following months, B92 kept up its strong stance and, as well as its playtlists and avid participation in protests, it also made a series of films and documentaries in an attempt to combat the state-run TV news bulletins

that depicted Serbia as a united nation seeking to expel the evil that infiltrated from neighbouring states. The film Vukovar in 1991 documented how Radio Television Serbia portrayed the destruction, or in its own words, “liberalisation” of the besieged Croatian town. Another B92 film, Geto, documented Serbian rock in the war years, “polarised between turbo-folk on the one side and avant-garde on the other.” Despite being constantly watched through a blood-splattered viewfinder, Veran Matic and his team didn’t let the political scare-mongering and constant threats from the army over-run their determination or their belief in the right for free media and an independent voice. As Milosevic’s dictatorship became more fascistic, (enforcing cultural domination through marriage between turbo-folk heroes and members of his own army), the efforts of the anti-war civilian movement increased. After the 1995 NATO bombings (around the same time as the Oasis/Blur ‘war’ back in the UK), the second half of the decade belonged to a movement who were continually inspired by the voice of B92. It was a student movement, Optor, which led the campaign that resulted in the final defeat of the dictator. On October 5th, 2000, after street protests lasting over a month, the years of corruption, dishonesty and violence were brought to an end. Change was finally upon Serbia and huge celebrations lasted into the night, continuing for days. A new era of politics was about to begin, one of freedom and fresh hope. Back in the UK, Prime Minister Tony Blair was forming links with the President of America, George Bush. Concern had risen about the dictatorship in Iraq, plans were being drawn up for invasion, an invasion that would be opposed by a huge proportion of the British public. Over a million citizens attended a protest march, a movement ignored by a democratic leader whose initial campaign embraced freedom, change and the end of oppression... 

Propaganda posters have played a crucial role in the world’s most important conflicts... Didn’t stop us taking the piss out of them, though.

posters re-created by rob longworth

Poster 01:

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He’s watching you

USA

WW2

Glenn Ernest Grohe 1942

Poster 02:

More Production USA WW2 Zudor

Poster 03:

Get Hot – Keep Moving

US Office of War Information

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WW2

Poster 04:

Waffen – SS. “You may volunteer at 17 years old.”

German Recruitment Poster

WW2

War of the Words. Somebody once said that George Bush uses words like handgrenades – ones that might go off in his mouth at any minute. Academic, Lisa Miller, runs for cover.

Forget ‘Weapons of Mass Destruction’, words are the new military front line. Cruising through the media, into our homes, they precision bomb our ability to view a conflict objectively. In the fight for public acceptance, governments and militaries are holding words hostage; beheading the truth. First off, you can’t actually wage a ‘war’ on ‘terror’. It’s not just a military impossibility; it’s a linguistic one. ‘Terror’ is an abstract noun – a feeling. It’s not a tangible ‘thing’ and as such, you can’t bomb it. So how can you go to war with it? It doesn’t matter whether the words issue from the mouth of Bush, Blair or Bob Dylan – you might as well mount an armed campaign against seasickness. As a lexical confection, ‘War on Terror’ certainly suits the Bush/Blair alliance. The emotive appeal of an attack on a nasty feeling is strong. People don’t like being terrified. Do you have an objection to the feeling being eradicated? Of course not – what would it say about you if you were to defend the right of terror, and by implication, those who create it, to exist? The phrase is a dangerous piece of spin – manipulating those too busy to think into an unquestioning acceptance of a war. A war on frighteningly flexible terms. If the enemy is ‘terror’, who do you attack? Anyone who terrifies you enough. But over time this could be a variety of people in a variety of places. The vagueness of the terms allows the enemy to be subject to continual redefinition – the front line can simply float around to follow them. Neat, huh? For those still not convinced that a word can influence public perceptions consider for a moment the term ‘Dossier’. Hands up those who, when Blair claimed to have compiled a ‘dossier’ of evidence against Saddam Hussein, imagined a red leather tome embossed with gilt lettering. A voluminous, rigorously researched, scrupulously honest repository of fact. A manuscript of weighty authenticity. The bland lexical term ‘report’ doesn’t carry half as much connotational power. The truth is, that the unthinking public are far more likely to believe a dossier than they are a mere report. A report suggests nothing more than a few pages of close type held together with a treasury tag, which in the case of the September dossier is possibly closer to the truth. Where, then, the touchy topic of ‘Weapons of Mass Destruction’? What precisely is a ‘Weapon of Mass Destruction’? What constitutes ‘mass’ exactly? A bomb that can kill a hundred people – or a million? The fact is, such a vague term means whatever you want it to mean. The public, pessimistic by nature, will resolve ambiguities by filling gaps with worst-case scenarios: nuclear missiles. Missiles with multiple warheads capable of simultaneous hits on UK cities. Missiles with the capacity to kill hundreds of thousands. And yet the truth of Saddam’s weapons capability was hidden beneath a blanket of language. For reasons justified or otherwise, war with Iraq was thrown into the capacious box labelled ‘War on Terror’. It just happens to be ironic, that in order to gain public acceptance, the proponents of this ‘War on Terror’ scared the shit out of us 

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053

Talk the Talk. Want to make like a Marine with none of the effort? Dump the dhoby and dig out blind with our blagger’s dictionary to being a bootneck.

Balls out: To give something your best. Battlebowler: Combat helmet. Bootneck: Royal Marine. Brew: Hot drink. Burst into flames: Smoke break. Chad valley: Rubbish quality. Crab: Air Force personnel. Cut about: To move with purpose. Dhoby: Washing. Dig out blind: To try your hardest. Drop short: Artillery. Eating irons: Knife, fork and spoon. Donkey walloper: Cavalry. Egg banjos: Fried egg sandwiches. FIBAR: Fighting in bars and restaurants. FIBUA: Fighting in built-up areas. FIPAC: Fighting in pubs and clubs. FUBAR: Fucked up beyond all recognition. Gannett: Greedy bastard. Get amongst: To sort out, discipline, organise. Also sexually. Go fasters: Trainers. Gonk bag: Sleeping bag. Grizz it: To stick it out, get on with it. Harry icers: Very cold. Jack Tar: Navy personnel. Lid: Headware, usually beret. Nod: A recruit, usually Marine. Non-swimmer: Any foreign military, usually African or Arab but also NATO-types. Nosh: Gay. Oxygen thief: Lazy and useless. Proff: To acquire or steal. Pongo: Navy and Marine term for Army personnel. REMF: Rear echelon motherfucker. Rift: To discipline severely, also sexually. Rupert: Officer. Septic: As in tank; Yank. Square away: To sort out, discipline, organise. Also sexually. STAB: Stupid TA Bastard; Territorial Army. Stagging on: Doing sentry duty. Swamp: To urinate. TAB: “Tactical advance to battle”, Army term for marching with weight. Yomp: Marine term for TAB.

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SHARP SHOOTER

BRENT STIRTON HAS SEEN SOME ACTION IN HIS TIME: RWANDA, SIERRA LEONE, BURUNDI, ANGOLA, AND THREE TOURS OF IRAQ. BUT THE SOUTH AFRICAN BORN STIRTON IS NO UN PEACE KEEPER OR GUN-FOR-HIRE MERCENARY. HE’S A PHOTOGRAPHER.

WORDS BY ADRIAN SANDIFORD IMAGES BY BRENT STIRTON COURTESY OF GETTY IMAGES

UNLIKE Dennis Hopper’s brain-fried photojournalist in Apocalypse Now, the 35-year-old Stirton is a man of pure intentions, committed to documenting human suffering not as a voyeur, but as a bearer of truth; a beacon reminding the world that there are abuses too horrific to be ignored. His work is mesmerising, capturing complex issues in a single picture. Working in conflict zones, Stirton’s striking images take on a haunting beauty through his use of portraiture to document the story. “I think that a great many stories are, for want of a lesser cliché, apparent in the people. If you photograph the people, and you do it well, then a lot can be achieved with that,” he explains in mangled South African tones. He’s softly spoken for such a large man, his frame extending well over six-foot, with a rugged John Wayne walk that fills the room. “Photography does a lot to transcend boundaries. A great picture transcends literary boundaries, language boundaries, and cultural boundaries,” he continues. “There are certain things that are common to the human experience: we love our children, we hope for a good life, we understand that life is a struggle. A great picture sums those things up absolutely. Whereas an Iraqi man can understand what it means to lose a son in conflict, an American mother can imagine.” So, what’s more important – a beautiful image or one that’ll change people’s perceptions? Stirton rejects the distinction. “It’s possible and necessary to do both. You better do good work because the world is a multiply-stimulated place. People have maybe only 30 seconds of attention for you. So, whatever you do, make it great. If you do that, then you have a chance of maintaining people’s attention just long enough to affect their perceptions of how things are.” Herein lies the key to his work. The point of Stirton’s photographs is to inform the world about what’s going on, to fill magazines and newspapers with retina-searing images that’ll break through society’s coma of apathy. Images can do that. Associated Press photographer Huynh Cong Ut’s era-defining 1972 Vietnam war picture of an innocent girl running in anguish from a napalm bombing, clothes incinerated on her naked, burning body, was pivotal in changing people’s attitudes to the war. It moved a nation and helped to shape the popular feelings that would influence US policy. Similarly, the sickening pictures to surface from Abu Ghraib were, for many, a wake-up call that the Western commitment to democracy is not as virtuous as we like to think. Stirton’s role in delivering cold hard truths as a way of changing people’s perceptions has clearly affected his own. His athletic build, grizzled beard and healthy tan (from months of travelling on assignment as opposed to any Beckhamesque metrosexual salon tendencies) are incongruously set against the ghostly look in his eyes. His blue eyes don’t sparkle as expected. They’ve been deadened by the suffering he’s seen, stretching back to the photos of South African gang violence that kick-started his career. As a journalism student at Durban Technikon, Stirton began writing about the violence in KwaZulu-Natal. Unable to find a photographer to accompany him into the troubled regions, he began to take his own pictures. His first photos included images of gang members dishing out retribution by forcing burning tyres over their rival’s  heads. The writing became overshadowed, and a career in photojournalism was born.

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Since then Stirton has witnessed AK-47 wielding child rebels in Sierra Leone burning their brutalised sex slave’s breasts off with acid, and been beaten by US marines for photographing the dying moments of their comrades and friends. He talks about these incidents as you or I would discuss going to the supermarket to buy some milk. Despite the intensity of his work and the string of awards he’s won – including the World Press Photo three times, two Humanitarian Awards from the UN, and the Unicef Picture of the Year, amongst others – Stirton remains incredibly humble about what he does. “I’m proud of any work of mine that affects change, but this is a business where you’re proud of your stuff for two weeks and then move on to the next thing, otherwise you’re just an egocentric asshole,” he says. “This job is very much about reminding yourself that the story is not about you. “We live in an age where there is a certain celebrity cult with regards to photojournalism and journalists working in war zones. It’s romanticised. There are a lot of people running around war zones because it’s a rush, because it’s the quickest way of making a name for themselves. The fact is that there are a lot of people out there doing good work who aren’t making a big noise about it; they’re just getting on with the job. Those are the people that I admire.” Not making a big noise seems to be an integral part of Stirton’s approach. It’s how he overcame the problem of being an outsider when embedded with tight-knit US platoons on his assignments in Iraq. “They’ll see if you’re a complete fuckwit or not and they’ll see it quickly,” he says. “Frankly speaking, I’ve worked with a lot of soldiers in a lot of countries. I don’t make a big noise about it, I just do my job quietly and efficiently and I’m respectful. Don’t be stupid, don’t presume something, wait and see, give people the benefit of the doubt. Everything tends to work out if you do that.” His earlier recounting of indignant US troops pounding him for snapping their fallen friends is a strange definition of things working out. Stirton shrugs it off. “The American troops can have a hard time with the work I do but they’re risking their lives and are entitled to be suspicious. There’s a human element to all of this. If you’re in the same situations, experiencing the same stress day-in day-out, the line starts blurring. “I’ve also definitely had American troops try very hard to save my life, make sure I’m ok, and endanger themselves in the process. They’re not bad people. I’ve seen American soldiers in tears when Iraqi soldiers who they’ve trained and brought up have been killed. What the guys on the ground are trying to do is, to a large extent, just get through their year or 14 months, or whatever it is they’re doing out there.” Stirton makes working in one of the most dangerous places in the world sound easy. On his three visits he’s worked with both sides – in 2004 he took photos of insurgents as they attacked Americans during the battle for Najaf, yet worked with the US forces when covering the second battle of Fallujah. It’s not a question of sides, Stirton’s seeking an objective truth: hence his decision not to cover the fall of Baghdad on 9 April 2003. “I wasn’t going to go and do an American propaganda victory, it’s not really my style.” His description of taking photos during the mayhem of battle is typically understated: “It’s an intense and sustained thing to do.” For once there seems to be a glimmer of Stirton outside the role of controlled photojournalist when he comments that “the most difficult aspect of it is working out your power”. It swiftly disappears. “When I say power, I mean technically, you’ve got to send pictures. You might not be able to get back to a point where you can charge things up so you have to look after the practicalities of reporting. And your life.” Stirton’s unflappability is reminiscent of Robert Duvall’s surf-loving Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore. Has he never feared for his life? “I’ve had a little shrapnel in my body,” comes the reply. Then, for the first time,

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there’s a pause. A pregnant pause. Carrying twins. “Let’s just say I’ve had a couple of situations in Africa where I’ve been kidnapped, where I was in more fear of my life than I have been in Iraq,” he continues. “But Iraq is a crapshoot. You don’t know where the fire is coming from. The vast majority of situations are ambush situations and you’re not necessarily, erm...” Going to live? “Yeah. It’s the luck of the draw. Don’t get on the plane if you’re not going to be able to handle that.” You’d expect someone who’s experienced the reality of combat from an objective viewpoint to be critical of war films – a genre routinely slammed for glamourising violence while trivialising the issues. Not so. A quick run through of classic war films meets with a surprising degree of enthusiasm. “Very few people know what it’s like to be in a war and fight for survival, and I’m thankful for that,” says Stirton, who’s clearly not one of those people. “Film is the closest most people are going to get. Films like Jarhead provide a way for people to find out about what’s going on and to try and understand it in some way. “Some directors get it more right than others, but you should respect the fact that they’re making an effort; I applaud their efforts to go there. There will always be crap and exploitation of the adrenalin but many films make an attempt to examine this phenomenon as well as entertain.” And with that he’s off to ready himself for another trip to Iraq: unlikely to be entertained, but definitely committed to the explanation  057

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Was Mary Shelley just bored of kittens when she spread out her skirts, sharpened her quill and gave birth to one of the most famous doctors in literary and cinematic history? Or was the creation of Victor Frankenstein a portentous warning from the 19 year-old?

MEET THE TRANSPLANT DOCTORS WHO WANT TO TAKE YOUR BRAIN TO ANOTHER DIMENSION.

Why? Make no mistake, these people want to fuck with your brain. In October, a laboratory worker in Queensland was hauled up on suspicion of stealing parts of a human brain to inject into race horses as a performance enhancer. In August, researchers declared that pig brain cells wrapped in a seaweed derivative could be used to treat Huntington’s disease if implanted into humans. Where in humans? Two guesses.

SURGICAL STRIKE

WORDS BY MONISHA RAJESH ILLUSTRATIONS BY RICHARD MAY

In the past 50 years, Shelley’s Frankenstein has spawned mad doctors like gremlins off a wet Mogwai. But the multitude of cloned sheep, mice sprouting human ears on their backs and designer babies is providing about as much reaction as a Thursday afternoon snigger at Popbitch.

Though organ transplants seem commonplace these days, they are still a relatively recent phenomenon. The first general transplant was conducted at Boston’s Emory University in 1954, when a living donor kidney was transplanted between twin brothers.

Dr Christian Barnard transplanted the first human heart in 1967. But little

did he know that he was already being upstaged by a greater performance in another theatre. In Cleveland, Ohio, a team of 15 scientists led by Dr Robert White were rejoicing in a laboratory after successfully pioneering a brave new frontier of medical research: transplanting the head of one monkey onto the body of another. Over 40 years later, the quiet, 79-year old Professor is in a peaceful retreat looking out over Lake Eerie on a Saturday morning, but by his side is a threefoot Frankenstein toy monster that sings down the phone to me. He’s working on a manuscript about the stem cell debate. But long before Dr White started his monkey-head transplantations, his research was focused on “extracorporeal perfusion” – cooling the brain to allow it to be operated on. The brain can only survive without blood for a few moments, but by cooling it to 10 degrees centigrade the circulation can be cut off for hours and then reconnected, effectively bringing the brain back to life. According to the Professor: “When we cooled the brains of these monkeys and cut the blood off for an hour and a half, and then warmed the brain up again, the monkeys were running around. They were fine.” The mind-blowing success of his experiment sent charges of energy through White’s veins, and he topped up his euphoria with more and more hits of everincreasing dosage. His next resounding breakthrough came when he removed the brain of a monkey, and sewed it into the neck of a second monkey. Not the head, the neck. That’s right – Professor White invented the two-brained monkey. The recipient survived and ran around the cage while its cerebral impulses were monitored, proving that the brain was well-fed and functioning perfectly in its new body. However, Professor White faced numerous sceptics who questioned the extent to which the neck-brain was truly functioning, insisting that the monkey was powered by its own, original, correctly-positioned one. To prove that the new brain really was doing what it was supposed to do, Professor White developed a second operation – transplanting the head of one monkey onto the body of another, and this is the one he is most



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FRANKENSTEIN ATE MY FILM

Frankenstein. Dr Victor Frankenstein (Kenneth Branagh) brings to life the infamous monster in a metallic container, with horrific consequences - a naked and slimy Robert De Niro. Face Off. An inimitable classic wherein Castor Troy (Nicolas Cage) and Sean Archer (John Travolta) swap faces, personalities, lives, families and gangster pals. 21 Grams. Paul Rivers (Sean Penn) receives a heart and becomes emotionally entangled with the widow of the donor. Weird Science. Two massive losers Gary (Anthony Michael Hall) and Wyatt (Ilan Mitchell-Smith) make a woman called Lisa (Kelly LeBrock) who answers to their beck and call. Worth it just for her silhouette in the doorway and classic ‘80s elder-brother bastard, Chet (Bill Paxton). Blink. Blind cellist Emma Brody (Madeleine Stowe) receives a corneal transplant and recognises a murderer targeting transplant recipients.

famous for. It was this that blasted through the walls of ethical reasoning, outraged anti-vivisection campaigners and made the media wet themselves with delight. Although smoothly evasive about the exact date of the operation, White chuckles to himself as he recalls the day spent between two operating theatres, with a team of four surgeons working on two monkeys, as 12 scientists and researchers monitored the results. When asked about the gory details, he takes a deep breath and recollects the procedure in a tone reminiscent of Delia Smith reciting a recipe for roast turkey. “Well, we removed the body of the A animal and attached it to the head of the B animal. And when it awakened, I could determine that the monkey was conscious and was very vicious. This one was a pugnacious monkey who would follow me around the lab with its eyes, would eat, respond to my voice and bite. This way, we knew the brain was smelling, tasting and observing.” Although he adds: “It was really neck and spine surgery because it was the nerves and tissues being reattached that connected everything.”

“After the 16-hour operation, when that monkey woke up, my word we danced. And even now, every time I go up there I can still hear it. It

was just beyond belief, when we realised that for the first time in the history of medicine we had transplanted a brain.” Was his surgical ingenuity born of a ravenous pursuit for megalomaniacal satisfaction, or was there a greater good, neatly ignored by the media while salivating in their reveries of Frankenstein headlines? Professor White laughs and happily explains that his efforts were designed to help sufferers of quadriplegia – those paralysed in all four limbs – in the hope of being able to one day transplant their bodies to extend their lifespan. While sufferers are perfectly capable of thought processes and are mentally sound, their bodies rot away and lead to early deaths. Persistent in describing the operation as a body transplant rather than a head transplant, Professor White explains: “You could give someone whose body is failing them the body of a motorcyclist who ran his machine into a wall and crushed his brain, when

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Mars Attacks. Tim Burton madness with Sarah Jessica Parker’s horsey face sitting perkily on the body of a Chihuahua beautiful. Steel Magnolias. Deep South matriarchal dominance. Julia Roberts receives a kidney from her mother. But she still dies. Monty Python’s Meaning of Life. Python idiocy with stomach churning transplanting of organs - would we expect any less? Desperate Measures. Good cop Frank Conner’s (Andy Garcia) son needs a bone marrow transplant with the only match being a homicidal prisoner. (Michael Keaton). Nice twist. Rou pu tuan zhi tou qing bao jian. Cantonese gent receives a penis transplant and well, the name’s just grand.

his brain is now dead. If it’s ethically permissible to open up his body and transplant his organs into other people, we could simply transplant his whole body to the head of one of these quadriplegic patients. I think it would be ethically correct to do that.”

Perhaps the age-old cliché of life imitating art is significant here. The

Professor openly admits his favourite film is James Whale’s 1931 version of Frankenstein, but also allays the suggestion that Shelley’s novel was just a piece of allegorical ﬂuff. He says: “I believe that the total body transplant is perfectly possible. It can become more of a reality, rather than just a Frankensteinian concept.” John Woo’s thriller Face Off could also become a reality. Professor White condones the necessity for face transplantation for burns victims and patients who have had enormous surgery for tumours. He describes a recent trip to Germany where he shook hands with a man who had had both hands transplanted. “You realise that the owner of these hands is now resting in his grave – and that would be the same thing for face transplantation. Even though it is someone who is long dead, here is the face looking at me and smiling at me. Of course the eyes don’t go along with it but this person no longer has to suffer from facial disfigurement.” Naturally, Professor White has faced opposition for his work, but not on a grand scale, and his appointment as a Papal advisor has seen him on many a wander through the gardens of the Vatican, discussing stem cell research and transplantation possibilities, which he admits have never been condemned by the Papacy. He concludes categorically: “You have got to realise that your body is just a machine keeping your brain alive. When your brain is dead, you are dead. So if your brain is alive then you are alive.” By the turn of the century, Professor White insists that brain to body operations will be happening: “It could be done right now. I could do this operation – it would take some preparation but I could do it, and it will be done.”  061

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WHEN THE BULLETS STARTED FLYING, WHO WERE THE REAL HOLLYWOOD WAR HEROES? LWLIES COURT-MARTIALS THE DRAFTDODGING COWARDS AND SALUTES THE LOCK’N’LOAD LUVVIES. WORDS BY JONATHAN CROCKER ILLUSTRATIONS BY ROB LONGWORTH

John wayne

War story. You know him as the legendary embodiment of the US fighting man. Now meet Hollywood’s most infamous draft dodger. When Pearl Harbor blew, The Duke was 34 years-old. His marriage was on the rocks, but he still had four kids to support. His career was taking off, but he wasn’t rich. He told friends he’d enlist after one or two more movies... but never did. Instead, Wayne rattled out 13 films during the war, many of them hugely successful morale-swelling combat pics. In no time, he was one of America’s most popular stars. Legendary status and bankability assured, he entertained the troops, with the studio protecting him from active duty until the war finished. Although he made a halfhearted effort to join the naval photography unit bossed by his friend, director John Ford, Wayne never struck a blow. Except against a few servicemen who wondered why he wasn’t in uniform. See him in action. Sands Of Iwo Jima (1949)

david niven

War story. Niven made a career playing dashing, dapper gents on screen. Few would suspect that the pencil-moustached English charmer was in fact a steel-bound tough guy. Having lost his father in Gallipoli, Niven followed his family footsteps to slug through Sandhurst military academy as a young man. When Britain declared war in 1939, he was one of the first actors to re-join the British army, making Lieutenant Colonel in a Rifle brigade, and leading a commando unit in Normandy. Though a riotous yarn-spinner, he remained tight-lipped about his war experience forever after. See him in action. The First Of The Few (1942); A Matter Of Life And Death (1946) 

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Clark Gable

War story. By the time war hit, Gable was too old for the draft. But he enlisted in the Army Air Corps as a Private after his wife, actress Carole Lombard, died in a plane crash in 1942. Asked to make a movie about aerial gunners in action, Combat America, he took it upon himself to fly bombing missions over Europe to capture realistic footage. Gable made Major before being taken off active duty in 1944. Hitler wasn’t happy. He’d promised a reward to whoever could capture him alive. See him in action. Command Decision (1948); Run Silent Run Deep (1958)

James Stewart

War story. Jimmy Stewart? Fighting the Hun? Believe it. Hollywood’s premier aww-shucks everyman enlisted in the air force as a Private and worked his way up to the rank of Colonel while serving as a bomber pilot over Europe. He’d spent his own money pulling extra flight training to qualify for combat missions. By the time he retired from service (two decades AFTER the war ended), he’d become a Brigadier General, flown 20 combat missions and scored a chestful of medals. There were stories to tell, of course. Apparently, he accidentally bombed Switzerland once, and a Staff Sergeant named Walter Matthau once served under him as a B-24 crewman. But despite being the highestranking actor in military history, he never allowed his service to be used to promote his film career. See him in action. Strategic Air Command (1955)

Lee Marvin

War story. The Hollywood hard-bastard with the car-crash face fought as a Private First Class in the Marines in World War II. And we do mean fought. In the battle of Saipan in 1944, he was one of only nine survivors of his unit. He was seriously wounded during the battle, a bullet severing his sciatic nerve. Meaning? He took one in the buttock. That bullet earned him a trip home and the Purple Heart. When his screen career kicked off in 1951, Marvin continued to bring touches of realism to his war-flick roles – look out for the rubber inner-tube he often wraps around his helmet, just as he had done with his own battle gear in the Pacific. See him in action. The Dirty Dozen (1967); The Big Red One (1980)

Mentioned Dispatches in Robert Montgomery

It took the US two years to get involved in World War II. Montgomery couldn’t wait. As soon as the war broke, Montgomery went straight to England, drove ambulances in France and aided in the Dunkirk evacuation. When the US finally got stuck in, he enlisted in the Navy and ended up taking part in the D-Day invasion.

Charles Bronson

‘Charles Buchinski’ was hauled into the army as a World War II truck driver and later as a gunner on a B-29 bomber. He flew on 25 missions and received, among other decorations, a Purple Heart for wounds incurred in battle.

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Mel Brooks

Comic legend ‘Melvin Kaminsky’ joined the army in World War II as a combat engineer, clearing German mines after the Battle of the Bulge.

Jason Robards

The Magnolia veteran was a radioman on duty at Pearl Harbor during the Japanese attack. He wrote about his experiences in A Hell of a War.

Ronald Reagan

Bit of a weak effort from Ronny. He was a Captain in the US Army Air Corps, but his deaf ear meant no one was letting him anywhere near a plane. Training films kept him busy.

henry Fonda

Enlisted to US Navy 1942 against the wishes of 20th Century Fox. Worked in operations and combat intelligence. Reached a rank of Lieutenant.

miFUne toshiro

Conscripted into military service from Manchuria, 1939, and ended up as an Imperial Air Force pilot.

laUrenCe olivier

hUmPhrey boGart

Young Bogie enlisted in the Navy during World War I. And in World War II? He played chess by mail with GIs. The hero.

donald PleasanCe

Having just started his acting career in 1939, Pleasance dallied with conscientious objection before joining the RAF – only to be shot down and tortured in a POW camp until his release in 1945. Ironically, he’s the only actor to appear in The Great Escape and it’s shonky sequel 

Served with the Fleet Air Arm and was released twice to act in British war films.

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What does Hollywood’s fascination with the Marines tell us about the Corps?

THE U.S. MARINE CORPS - THE FEW, THE PROUD. FOUNDED IN 1775, THE HOME OF THE BRAVE, THE BOLD AND THE NOT SO BEAUTIFUL. ONCE RIDDLED WITH ACTOR-CELEBRITIES (KEITEL, MCQUEEN, HACKMAN), THE MARINES REMAIN ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS ASSAULT FORCES IN THE WORLD. BUT WHAT ABOUT OUR SILVER SCREEN DEPICTIONS – DO THEY MAKE THE GRADE? IN THE MARINES, EVERYMAN’S A RIFLEMAN. IN THE MOVIES, NOT EVERYONE HITS THE TARGET. SO DO FILMS DEPICT THE TRUE UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS, AND IF SO, WHAT CAN WE LEARN ABOUT THE BOYS IN GREEN?

WORDS BY ADRIAN D’ENRICO ILLUSTRATION BY PAUL WILLOUGHBY

LT. COLONEL FRANK SLADE: AL PACINO Scent of a Woman

COLONEL NATHAN R JESSEP: JACK NICHOLSON A Few Good Men

The original Oo-rah Henry, Frank epitomises the proud veteran, worth his weight in caviar, and oozing power despite his visual predication. Driving a Ferrari isn’t part of the Corps’ training, but it should be. Being a double-hard bastard, with a sense of pride, power, honour and passion is. Balancing the tragedy of Slade’s solitude with his inner pride, Scent of a Woman is one of Pacino’s finest roles and perhaps the most memorable use of the Marine Oo-rah! The film effortlessly depicts his battle with positivity, the post-traumatic stress of war and the unavoidable problems associated with re-integrating into society after life in the armed forces. Marines’ characteristic – Pride and honour. The Marines pride themselves on their chain of command and their esprit de corps. Slade epitomises both. He’s not a man you take lightly. Intense, like Dark Matter, powerful like an H-bomb, a Marine is not a toy. In the words of Ronald Reagan, “Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don’t have that problem.” Pride in your achievements is one thing, pride in your uniform quite another. During the Iwo Jima landings of 1945, in which almost 6000 Marines would lose their lives, one soldier recalled his CO’s trousers, having ‘the look that can only come from a naval officer’s laundry”. Priorities, eh?.

“We follow orders, son. We follow orders or people die.” Jessep typifies the Marines’ dedication to the cause. Unrelenting, without deviation and with utmost purpose. A Few Good Men was a glossy political thriller, centring on the brutality of training and inductions at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, where the death of one young Marine prompted speculation and a concertina of courts martial. Cruise and Moore balanced Nicholson’s immense performance with some lightweight, good looking Hollywood fodder, but Mr. Facial Expressions stole the show. Marines’ characteristic – Semper Fidelis. Always loyal, to the bitter end. During the liberation of Iraq, one man kissed an officer’s cheek and hugged him, saying, “U.S. Army, good.” The officer smiled and corrected him – “Marines.” Loyalty to the cause and to the corps is also pivotal to their battle prowess. The Battle of Tarawa, a 72-hour attack, changed the face of amphibious warfare forever. Imperial Marine Japanese Commander in charge of the defense of Tarawa, Rear Admiral Keiji Shibasaki proclaimed, “A million men cannot take Tarawa in 100 years.” Despite adverse battle conditions, it took 4000 Marines just three days. Sorry, Keiji, what was that? In A Few Good Men this loyalty extends to the Marines’ notorious hazing rituals. In the words of Jessep, “You can’t handle the truth.” He may be right – what happens behind the scenes during selection is tough. But hazing rituals (think ‘blood winging’: pinning steel jump wings straight into an initiate’s body) are being increasingly scrutinised, prohibited and punished. Expect this to push them further underground.

GUNNERY SERGEANT HARTMAN: R. LEE ERMEY Full Metal Jacket “Are you quitting on me?! Well, are you?! Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off of my obstacle! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle! Now! Move it! I’m going to rip your balls off, so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world! I will motivate you, Private Pyle, if it short-dicks every cannibal on the Congo!” He didn’t know you could stack shit that high, but by crikey, if any human can instil a sense of training, this is he. Just out of interest, Ermey’s not listed in the Yellow Pages under Personal Trainer. Marines’ characteristic – Muscles Are Required Intelligence Not Essential. Pristine punnery typifies the Gunnery. Ermey’s performance really is poetry in motion, but at the end of the day the Marines are more than just brawn. In the recent Iraq conflict, their involvement predominantly centred on the liberation of Fallujah. Small units, fast strikes and immediate power. During Vietnam, all Marines were rumoured to hold black belts. Their programme instils and maintains a warrior culture, perhaps typified by Lt. Gen. Lewis B Puller, a Marine hero, who was surrounded by more than 100,000 Chinese soldiers at the Chosin Reservoir during the Korean War. Unfazed, Puller infamously exclaimed, “They’re on our right, they’re on our left, they’re in front of us, they’re behind us; they can’t get away from us this time.” Brains, brawn and brass conkers.

AUDIE MURPHY: To Hell And Back Major Murphy became the most decorated soldier in World War II, receiving every honour available during his illustrious career, including the Congressional Medal of Honor. Despite never becoming a Marine per se (he was too short) he was a damn fine infantryman. His army career over, he returned to the US a hero, appearing on the cover of Life magazine and deciding to pursue a career in acting on the advice of James Cagney, despite admitting to having ‘no talent.’ 44 films later, Murphy hung up his acting tights and concentrated on a failing ranching business. Marines’ characteristic – Being Audie Murphy. This guy conceived the book, wrote the book, edited it, jotted down the foreword, printed it, bound it and then signed it at his own book launch. If the Marines do it, Audie did it. On his honeymoon, he even slept with a gun under his pillow, because it was his ‘best friend.’ During his service in January 1945, near Holtzwihr, Murphy ordered his men to fall back and regroup. Then, alone, he mounted an abandoned burning tank destroyer and, with a single machine gun, contested the enemy’s advance – a mere six Panzer tanks and 250 infantrymen. Sit down, Adolf 

067

LET ME SEE YOUR WAR FACE

hair: make-up:

SOphIA SchOrr-KON cleMMIe chANT-SeMpIll

models:

AGNIJA AND ANANT @ OXYGeN MODelS

MAIN dress by BeN SherMAN, vest by GAS, tights by WOlFOrD, boots from a selection at rOKIT

PHOTOGRAPHY BY NICOLA SCOREY STYLING BY HEATHER WHYLEY

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leFT pAGe vest by c&c cAlIFOrNIA, jeans by WArehOUSe, belt by BUrTON, necklace by h&M

rIGhT pAGe coat by YSl, sweater by UNGArO

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MAIN sweater by American Apparel, t shirt by American Apparel, jeans by Ben Sherman, dog tags by Ben Sherman

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leFT pAGe coat by SUpreMe BeING, scarf by h&M

rIGhT pAGe dress by TOpShOp

A lwlies review will not be inhibited by any perceived rules. Just as movies are about more than the two hours you spend sitting in the cinema, our reviews are a chance to talk about much more than the immediate experience of the ﬁlm in question. There are many diﬀerent aspects of the movie-going experience and we will embrace them all.

Anticipation

Ever waited six months for a boxoﬃce behemoth? Read a book that you loved and nervously watched the adaptation? Been pleasantly surprised by an oﬀ-the-radar independent? Anticipation plays a crucial role in your reaction to a movie. Rather than ignore it, we think it should be measured and acknowledged as part of the moviegoing experience. marked out of 5.

Enjoyment

All other things aside, how did you feel for those two hours? Were you glued to your seat? Did the ﬁlm speak to your soul? Was it upsetting, disappointing, or just plain boring? Were you even awake? marked out of 5.

In Retrospect

Great movies live with you; you carry them around wherever you go and the things they say shape the way you see the world. Did this movie fade away or was every moment burned into your retinas? Was it a quick fix action flick, good for a rainy Sunday afternoon? Or the first day of the rest of your life? Did you hate it with a fury only to fall in love with a passion? Or did that first love drain away like a doomed romance? marked out of 5.

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lowER cITY RELEASED 2 December

Love is complicated – that’s the message of Sergio Machado’s debut feature, Lower City, a sweat-soaked love triangle between two chancers, Deco and Naldinho, and beautiful prostitute, Karinna. Their struggle to keep her away from the brothels, and to win her for themselves makes for an engaging film of raw energy. Think of it as a twisted counterpart to Y Tu Mama Tambien, driven by violence rather than humour. As its title suggests, Lower City inhabits a dark world, but it’s one kept buoyant by its sense of optimism. Even at their lowest ebb Deco and Naldinho are well aware that, like any holiday romance, the

gooD nIgHT, AnD gooD lUck If you’ve just quit smoking, Good Night, And Good Luck, George Clooney’s second outing behind the lens, may not be the film for you. Its lustrous black and white photography is hidden in a fog of cigarette smoke so thick, it ought to carry a warning from the Surgeon General. At least this fag fixation has a purpose. Detailing the fight between the cancer-happy newsroom of CBS, led by legendary See It Now presenter Edward R. Murrow and Senator Joe McCarthy during the Commie witch hunts of the 1950s, Good Luck is a picture of loving authenticity, and reverent regard for the power of television. But though the film’s fug of smoky hues and smooth jazz interludes are every bit as charming as the director himself, Good Luck suffers for being a very particular type of American movie. Neither the period nor the

DIRECTED BY Sergio Machado STARRING Alice Braga, Harildo Deda, Jose Dumont

passion and desperation that felt so important will soon transpire as just another experience on the road to adulthood – formative and important nonetheless. Andrew Pirelli

Anticipation. Exec. producer Walter Salles will whet appetites beyond the film’s modest expectations. One Enjoyment. Engaging,

exciting (in parts) and full of energy. Three

In Retrospect. It’s got all the clunk of a first film, but plenty of promise for the future. Three

RELEASED 17 February DIRECTED BY George Clooney STARRING David Strathairn, George Clooney, Patricia Clarkson, Robert Downey Jr

medium are of particular relevance to a non-American audience. TV doesn’t hold the same standing in Britain’s cultural history, and God knows we don’t reserve any special regard for journalists or politicians. As such, there’s not a lot here to latch onto, and despite some obvious contemporary relevance over security and individual rights, Good Luck never quite gets past Murrow’s own warning that civics lessons are boring. Matthew Bochenski

Anticipation. Clooney is developing a sensibility of impressive integrity. Four Enjoyment. Imagine a

ravishing embrace that just goes on a bit long. Two

In Retrospect. A beautiful evocation of a fascinating period. Three 079

brokeback mountain RELEASED 30 December

DIRECTED BY Ang Lee STARRING Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Williams

After a short stint trying to re-craft the comic book blockbuster in his own image, Ang Lee returns, gloriously, to more familiar ground. Based on Annie Proulx’s celebrated short story, Brokeback Mountain is a grand epic, a heartbreaking love story of two Wyoming ranch hands who fall for each other. It’s remarkable to see a movie about a gay romance told in such a determinedly straight fashion. In fact where most contemporary romcoms perform all sorts of contrived narrative somersaults to keep their lovers apart, in Brokeback Mountain, the circumstances of a hostile society that conspire to separate Jake Gyllenhaal’s Jack Twist and Heath Ledger’s Ennis Del Mar are utterly believable and genuinely painful. But it’s not just the boys you end up rooting for. One of the reasons that Ang Lee’s film comes across as so incredibly human is his reluctance to introduce a villain into the piece. The female leads could easily have been twodimensional obstacles to true love. Instead, they’re almost as tragic as the men; it is not, after all, their fault that they unwittingly married blokes who were secretly spoken for.

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It will be interesting to see how these themes play in the queer-fear conservative heartlands of America. There’s a very real possibility that the idea of gay cowboys will threaten the middle class majority; those who are more comfortable when gay people are safely stereotyped as queeny LA fashionistas. As a poignant and touching love story, Brokeback Mountain deserves to help revive an ailing genre: studio wisdom has it that sweeping romances spanning 20 years are a dead idea. On this evidence, they really should think about doing it more often. Catherine Wray

Anticipation. Some kind

of Priscilla, Queen Of The Ranch, right? Three

Enjoyment. By the

end you’d sell your own grandmother if it would help make things alright for them. Five

In Retrospect. As the

credits roll you’ll want to watch it again. Even if it means putting yourself once more through the emotional wringer. Four

An interview with Ang Lee, director of Brokeback Mountain.

LWLies: What was your initial impression of Annie Proulx’s book? Ang Lee: I read the short story and I choked up at the end. It was very fresh, a realistic western in a poetic, elegiac kind of prose, very mysterious and romantic, in a weird way, to me. The line where Jack says “All we’ve got is Brokeback Mountain” – everything is built on that. That was striking to me, as something really existential that I never associate with the western genre, so that was very fresh.

LWLies: Are you happy with how the film turned out; is it close to your original vision? Ang Lee: I love the result. If I had more money, more time, I’d shoot some things differently. But I think it doesn’t really matter and that people are watching not actors, but characters. In that way I’m very happy about how it turned out.

SHopgIRl New York isn’t exactly the poster city of urban alienation. Maybe it’s the Friends effect, but the only angst you’re likely to find there is a new fragrance by Calvin Klein. Enter Claire Danes’ Mirabelle, a listless Manhattanite – bored, ignored and waiting to be adored. It’s not until she meets Schwartzman’s Jeremy – a fellow misfit – that she emerges from her shell, and the two embark on a sweetly romantic friendship. As is the way of these things, matters are complicated by Ray (Steve Martin), whose nascent relationship with Mirabelle is no less problematic for the film, lacking as it does any semblance of real chemistry.

RELEASED 20 January DIRECTED BY Anand Tucker STARRING- Steve Martin, Claire Danes, Jason Schwartzman

Though Schwartzman’s indie presence gives Shopgirl an element of fresh and funny credibility, it’s too predictable, too callow – too New York. Alysia Lipiarski

Anticipation.

Surprisingly under the radar for a cast of this quality. One

Enjoyment. Funny at the

beginning but faded out in the middle. Not bad but nothing spectacular. Two

In Retrospect. Will leave you listless, bored... It’s easy to ignore. Two

LWLies: How have audiences reacted to the film so far? Ang Lee: I think people really perceive it as a love story; something touched a nerve. When I make a movie I cannot predict how it works with people – I know how it affects me, but I don’t know how it affects other people. But so far it’s been really great, very positive. People cry.

LWLies: Do you think the gay theme has been built up too much by the press? Ang Lee: At least the press have stopped calling it ‘a gay cowboy story’, so that’s a big step forward. And then because of that it’ll probably reach out to more than the city art-house. I don’t know what other type of reaction I’ll get... I will have to deal with it. So far I’ve been surprised by the reaction - it has been pretty positive, more than I expected. Catherine Wray 081

the libertine Defoe, Shakespeare, Chaucer and Aristophanes; stories of the idle aristocracy and their “shocking” sexual escapades have long amused people who work for a living, and offered the illusion of moral superiority over those at the zenith of society. But if The Libertine starts from what is actually a pretty tired and hackneyed premise, what can it offer that we’ve not seen before? At first glance, not much. Johnny Depp plays John Wilmot, the Second Earl of Rochester and gadabout town, renowned both for his literary genius and his penchant for cheap whores. At the very beginning Wilmot tells us that we will not like him in a monologue that makes clear quite how self-absorbed this character is. Although already married to a stunning wife (Rosamund Pike), the Earl falls for an actress called Lizzie Barry (Samantha Morton), a

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RELEASED Out now

DIRECTED BY Laurence Dunmore STARRING Johnny Depp, John Malkovich, Samantha Morton

relationship which ultimately fails in parallel with his health, as he slowly dies of alcohol poisoning and syphilis. So, a simple love story of a man who shuns his wild ways for the love of a good but simple woman? Not quite; this is Johnny Depp in the lead, and the people expect more. And more is what we get. This is a monologue-heavy film that in reality is a complex character study of a man at odds with the world and himself. The Earl could have become a caricature; a man with a one-track mind who hates the world and prefers to be painted next to a monkey rather than his wife, a bored intellectual who amuses himself by shocking his contemporaries. But Depp takes it so much further, confirming his already iron-clad reputation as an actor of probable genius. Wilmot is flanked by hangerson in the street, the theatre and in

his home, but this is Depp’s film, despite the best efforts of the other principals. Samantha Morton puts in an appropriately schizophrenic performance in a split personality role, but ultimately ends up being neither fish nor fowl. One minute she’s demure, the next feisty – she falls in love with Depp as quickly as she shuns him for the advancement of her career. In the end she comes across as passionless, outshone by a sensitive Rosamund Pike who gives a depth to her performance that Morton lacks. Malkovich also excels as King Charles II, whose love for Rochester is only matched by his frustration. It is testament to Malkovich’s skill that though the King allows the Earl to embarrass him again and again, he never comes across as weak, only desperate for a man who he treats like a son to achieve his potential. Try as you might to focus on the other characters, you keep

coming back to Depp. The man’s skill is to take a character who is ostensibly egregious and clichéd and give him an empathy that is the making of the movie. The Earl is a man bored by the world because he can be; a rebel without a cause whose self-loathing is one of his only redeeming features. He claims to be “up for it” but wishes he wasn’t. Watching Depp tear his soul apart is a powerful and enduring image that gives The Libertine something new to say after all. Jonathan Williams

Anticipation. Three words: “Johnny Depp”. Three Enjoyment. A fascinating tale that admirably avoids melodrama. Four

In Retrospect. Freedom to do what you want is a dangerous thing. Four

mARcH of THE pEngUInS A compelling evolutionary insight, March Of The Penguins is now the second highest grossing documentary in history after Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11. No small accomplishment, given it opened during a Stateside summer slump that left box-office statisticians scratching their heads. Biologist-turned-director Luc Jacques chronicles the remorseless mating cycle of the Emperor Penguin – a hardy breed that annually leaves its ocean home and travels hundreds of miles inland, negotiating Antarctica’s inhospitable climes, to engage in a tumultuous breeding ritual. Originally conceived as a TV movie, Jacques did well to recognise March Of The Penguins’ theatrical potential. Its beauty is such that it’s hardly surprising Christian fundamentalists have leapt at the chance to cite it as a

DIRECTED BY Luc Jacques STARRING Morgan Freeman (narrator), amorous penguins

divine example of god’s hand in nature. Though their view that the film is pro-monogamy remains amusingly short-sighted (it’s actually a penguin’s prerogative to feather a new nest every year). Laurent Chalet and Jerome Maison’s lush cinematography captures Antarctica in all its spellbinding ethereality, as its intrepid inhabitants emerge from across the frozen wastes like an icy mirage, and tracks along their seemingly never-ending number in a shot oddly reminiscent of Star Wars’s celebrated opening Star Destroyer reveal. The camera is prone, however, to adoring its subjects too much. March Of The Penguins tends to hinge on how cute you find the little critters, and whilst the hazards inherent in the Emperors’ precarious courtships make for a poignant story, there are only so many lingering shots of them

RELEASED 9 December

waddling in unison you need. Alex Wurman’s overcooked score and Morgan Freeman’s voiceover – which too often extends beyond the purely explanatory – also have a tendency to make drama ascend into melodrama. This narration makes the documentary an unashamedly anthropomorphic affair, and though it’s sometimes helpful to have human qualities attributed to the penguins – particularly since their routine is so unrecognisable – Freeman’s flowery interjections do tend to overwhelm the imagery which, left alone, would speak volumes. That said, there’s no denying that March Of The Penguins is an affecting experience, which elicits precisely the awe and sympathy it intends. Sure, its message – that love finds a way – is forced home with a variety of unsubtle devices, but if you take the film more as a

compelling account of one species’ previously unheralded evolution, March Of The Penguins’ wonders outweigh its flaws. Tristan Burke

Anticipation. Sleeper hit status in the US guaranteed a level of curiosity above your average Attenborough-lite documentary. Three Enjoyment. An

otherworldly and fascinating film, marred occasionally by its excessively ornate commentary. Four

In Retrospect.

The images are more accomplished than its storytelling methods, but its success will be nevertheless deserved. Three 083

An interview with Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, star of Match Point. LWLies: Were you a Woody Allen devotee before you made Match Point? Rhys-Meyers: I liked Woody Allen films but I didn’t idolise him like other actors do. Most actors get on a set with Woody Allen and suddenly they try and act like Woody Allen. I had no interest in trying to be Woody Allen in a Woody Allen movie. I didn’t idolise him to that extent, which meant it was easier for me to work with him.

LWLies: There were rumours that you and Scarlett Johansson were an item on set. How do you deal with such speculation? Rhys-Meyers: That’s part of it. It’s so funny. Now that I know so many people who are famous, and then I read what’s written about them, it’s so far removed and it’s such bullshit. They wrote something about Colin [Farrell] during Alexander, that he was at a party or something, and he was with me that evening in Pizza Express! LWLies: You’ve put on 35lbs of muscle recently... Rhys-Meyers: Yes, I’ve become a total gym junkie. The days of the Harris and O’Toole are gone. You have to physically take care of yourself. If you want to be at the top of your game, you can’t be out partying with your friends, or having six pints a night down the pub. Your job is as physical as it is mental, and if you don’t look appealing on screen, then why would somebody pay £12 to go and see you? LWLies: Presumably this is for the upcoming Mission: Impossible 3. What can you say about the role or will you have to kill us afterwards? Rhys-Meyers: No, I won’t have to kill you. But they’ll probably kill me. For them it’s top secret, for me it’s contractual. You have to sign a contract to say you will not say anything about the film. With a $200 million film, you have to be very, very careful. It’s like transporting gold bullion; you make sure that you have a very secure van and that nobody knows where or when it’s going. James Mottram 084 THE JARHEAD ISSUE

match point

DIRECTED BY Woody Allen STARRING Scarlett Johansson, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, Emily Mortimer, Brian Cox

“Men seem to think I’d be something very... special” are words that fall easily from the lips of Nola, (Johansson) as she seductively ebbs further from sobriety. It’s possible to forgive Chris Wilton (Rhys-Meyers) for thinking of straying from his wife for such a woman, but much harder to sympathise with his motives before the end. Rhys-Meyers is excellent in Match Point. A poor tennis pro caught up in the lives of wealthy Londoners, the Hewetts, he quickly progresses from family friend to family member, marrying Chloe (Emily Mortimer) but always with one eye on his brother-in-law’s American fiancée. Nola is the sexual thrill that Chris’ wife just can’t offer. No great shakes there. In fact there’s very little to be surprised by in the opening half of Woody Allen’s first foray into London. Worse, some of the

RELEASED 6 January

dialogue is nauseating. Brian Cox rocks up to help distract attention from this tedious youthful affluence, shooting pheasants, reprimanding his wife for having one two many G ‘n’ Ts and generally reassuring people when they need more money. Match Point’s rapid plotdevelopment is its greatest strength, and Woody certainly packs a lot in. There’s great story-telling here, and as the film progresses, it becomes increasingly absorbing. Sadly, however, Woody can do better than this, and we know it. Danny Miller

Anticipation. Melinda & Melinda was poor. Two Enjoyment. Starts badly, but slowly becomes more engrossing. Three

In Retrospect. A decent film, but one that fails to resonate. Three

hidden DIRECTED BY Michael Haneke STARRING Juliette Binoche, Daniel Auteuil, Maurice Bénichou RELEASED 27 January

Michael Haneke, you are a bad, bad, man. In your latest film, Caché (Hidden), you take us on a pleasingly visceral backseat trip through a prim and polished movie-land of your own making. Here, in a darkly sombre contemporary Parisian thriller, the highs and lows are vaguely familiar, yet sensual. The performances aptly compelling. The sense of dread, suitably spine-tingling. And then, just when you hit your top speed, just when everything’s about to make sense in a grand cataclysmic narrative whirl, what do you do? You open the door and kick us out of the fucking car! Michael Haneke, you are a devious, devious dramatist. You give us an affable yet slightly self important TV show host, Georges (Daniel Auteuil), his brittle and neglected wife Anne (Juliette Binoche), and their docile teenage son Pierrot (Lester Makedonsky).

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And then you plague them with an unseen stalker who sends them anonymous video surveillance tapes – of their house, their street, and even their conversations. The tapes drive the family apart. The marriage breaks down. Pierrot goes missing. There’s a secret here, you hint. Some formative Freudian guilt from Georges’ childhood, finally coming back to haunt him. An abuse of a local Arab boy, perhaps? Yes, getting warmer. And the boy’s older now? Yes! And he wants revenge? Yes! But then, Michael Haneke, what do you do? You turn your back completely on dramatic convention, narrative arcs, and story through-lines. Just because you can. Michael Haneke, you are a dark, dark filmmaker. You say that your mission is to make “polemical statements against American cinema and its disempowerment of the spectator.” Which is why

Caché is so bold. It feels like a polished American studio movie. It coruscates with lush silvery dollies, tracks and pans. It lulls us into Kubrick land, and it toys with our Americanised viewing sensibilities – our programmed need for the comforting rhythm of sporadic thrills, consistent tension and tiny cathartic bites. And just when it has us in the palm, on the edge, and at the brink, it says, “You know what? Fuck you!” Michael Haneke, you are a stark, stark moralist. You were born in Munich, raised in Austria, and you studied philosophy at the University of Vienna. You’re 63-years-old, and you care. You say that “art is obliged to confront reality,” and so you turn Caché into a Trojan horse thriller that’s concerned with confronting the fetid, post-colonial reality of Western-Arab relationships. Georges’ guilt about past Arab

abuses is France’s guilt about Algerian atrocities, is the West’s current guilt about Middle-Eastern occupation. It’s no coincidence that Georges’ TV is constantly hammering out news of the latest Iraqi atrocities, even as his marriage implodes and his family life disintegrates. Michael Haneke, you are angry. You hate Georges and his bourgeois life. You ridicule his dinner parties, his vile anaesthetic furniture and his inane conversations. You want him punished, you want his entire crass consumer-obsessed Western society punished. You want to bring down the temple about your ears, but... Michael Haneke, you are a genius. Your film is suffused with sadness. Your images have uncommon beauty. Your long long takes find magic in the most unassuming things. An empty street scene becomes a captivating

mRS HEnDERSon pRESEnTS Based on the true story of seedy Soho’s Windmill Theatre, and the unlikely friendship between its widowed owner (Dench) and the manager (Hoskins) who turned it into London’s leading nightspot, Mrs Henderson Presents is an enduring image of Brits under fire during World War II. Think stiff upper lips, cups of tea in times of crisis, and a delightfully uniform love of the disrobed female form – Hope & Glory with tits, if you will. When Mrs Henderson’s husband dies rather selfishly, the young-at-heart septuagenarian shuns embroidery and other gin-soaked pastimes of the soon to be dead, and instead invests in a clapped-out theatre. Soon, a serious and driven Hoskins as the marvellously monickered Vivian Van Damm is drafted in to run things, and inevitable sparks

DIRECTED BY Stephen Frears STARRING Judi Dench, Bob Hoskins, Thelma Barlow, Will Young

RELEASED 25 November

ensue as – guess what – Mr Moody and his new boss don’t quite see eye to eye. And that’s even before everyone starts getting their bits out, the government gets involved and Hitler shows up with a blitzkrieg in tow. Slight and simplistic though it sounds, Mrs Henderson Presents is a throwback to a different era in style as well as content. True, at its core it’s a pretty standard odd couple flick, but Dench enlivens the screen with such natural vigour, and director Frears steels the story with such an obvious fondness for his characters and period, that the window dressing happily outshines any recurring familiarities in the plot. Dench is supported by an able ensemble: a posh Hoskins is unusually understated as the male foil, while Thelma Barlow excels as Mrs Henderson’s stuck-up society

sidekick. Pop Idol’s Will Young sings, dances and, yes, minces, with a certain effortlessness, but there’s little about him to suggest he’d be able to tackle anything as taxing as, say, looking stern. However, with a mesmerisingly on-song Dench on hand to steal the show, this is of little immediate concern. Matt Hill

Anticipation. Frears is an unsung hero of British cinema, but it still looks like a period musical in disguise. One Enjoyment. An old-school heart-warmer that’ll leave you oven-baked. Four

In Retrospect.

Lightweight for sure, but Sunday evenings will be its friend for years to come. Three

tableau. A car parking in the night becomes a thing of unfathomable mystery. And a decapitated chicken dancing erratically around your frame is a softly destructive ballet. And Georges too. You have forgiveness even for him. You leave him at the end, battered but not broken. Which is just as you leave us. Michael Haneke, you are a bad, bad man. Kevin Maher

Anticipation. Oh shit. Another trip into stylised Teutonic Art-house agony. Two Enjoyment. You don’t

really enjoy Haneke, do you? You just kind of sit there, dumbstruck. Four

In Retrospect. Glad to be out of it, yet want to get back to it. More. More. Five 087

A COCK AND BULL STORY Laurence Sterne’s classic 18th century mock autobiography, snappily entitled The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, is widely acknowledged to be unfilmable. Not so, said Michael Winterbottom, before taking up the challenge of adapting a 700-page tome in which the narrator is not born until the third volume. For those unfamiliar with the book, Shandy attempts to tell the story of his life – always going back in time to try and explain what has shaped him – but is constantly distracted. Instead, he embarks on lengthy, rambling digressions. Unbelievably, considering the problematic narrative, Winterbottom’s version, A Cock and Bull Story, is a triumph. How

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RELEASED 20 January

DIRECTED BY Michael Winterbottom STARRING Steve Coogan, Rob Brydon, Keeley Hawes

do you make a film of a book about writing a book? Simple. Make a film about making a film. It starts as a straight adaptation: Tristram Shandy (Steve Coogan) narrating the story of his conception and birth without ever getting to the critical moment. But this is a period piece as postmodernism: Tristram donning a wig and explaining to camera that, due to the family resemblance, he’ll play his father Walter. And then things move into selfreferential overdrive. The director calls cut on the pivotal birth scene and the story flips to the modern day: actors grumbling about their wardrobe, producers fretting about money, and, deliciously, Coogan playing a “fictional” version of himself – contemplating cheating

on his wife, tired of references to his Partridge persona, and, at one point, interviewed by Tony Wilson (who he played in Winterbottom’s 24 Hour Party People). It sounds awful, too knowing for its own good, a bout of Kaufman-lite cockery. What makes this a sheer delight instead of an unbearable mess is the strength of the comedy. Any potential postmodernist musings about Coogan playing father, son and himself, across four centuries, while cameras film cameras, are swiftly lost to laughter. This is British comedy at its best: Coogan, Rob Brydon, Dylan Moran, Stephen Fry, and David Walliams executing to perfection, bantering with an ease often bordering on improvisation, and

bringing Sterne’s easy-going spirit to life with joy. Adrian Sandiford

Anticipation. A film adaptation of an unfilmable and notoriously “difficult” 18th century book does not bode well. It’s got Coogan and Brydon in it though. Three Enjoyment. It starts a

little uneasily but once you overcome the worry of where it’s going and begin to enjoy the ride, it’s a cracker. Four

In Retrospect. Clever without pretension and thoroughly entertaining. A-ha! Four

pRoof

RELEASED 10 February DIRECTED BY John Madden STARRING Anthony Hopkins, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jake Gyllenhaal

John Madden obviously knows which buttons to push when dealing with Gwyneth Paltrow. He makes her character, Catherine, withdrawn, bookish and downright difficult with anyone and everything. Catherine loses her father (Hopkins) and spends most of the film protecting his considerable assets and dealing with her loss. But her few moments of brightness and tenderness are precious and enlightening and make Proof a delightful surprise. Director and lead worked on this story together on the stage and it shows in the intimate nature of the adaptation. Catherine’s personal experiences over many years become rudely public after her father’s death, and she has to face new love, family and the wider

world in more ways than one. As a study of death and the effects thereof for those left behind, Proof shows very simply how even though we would like to mourn in private, sooner or later we’re forced to acknowledge the public gaze and realities of life. The subject matter; complex mathematical equations forming a ‘proof’ followed to far-reaching solutions, is captivating in the sense that any field of endeavour put under the microscope that shows the best (and worst) of mankind is addictive viewing. However, any more detail on the maths and the story would have gone the wrong way. Thankfully Madden chooses to focus on the relationship between father, daughter (in retrospect), sister and

boyfriend, which although obvious, is touching for its innocence. Hopkins is his usual sturdy self, effectively blurring the line between genius and madness, extrovert and hermit. Whilst his work is the core of the film, his character remains a support to Paltrow’s immature, lonely central character. As does Gyllenhaal’s love interest and sycophant to the dead genius. Whilst Gyllenhaal appears limp and unfulfilled in his role as mathematics student, Davis shines in hers as the NY-based corporate brat who swoops into Chicago to take command of the funeral and her sister’s future. She provides the bite to Paltrow’s sorrow and is the white-collar, deadline-obsessed answer to bohemian-style academia.

There is an obvious comparison with A Beautiful Mind but whilst that is a study of the twisted inner-mind of a genius over a lifetime, Proof dips its toe into a family drama. This is easy viewing with a sentimental edge – no calculators required. Steph Pomphrey

Anticipation. Ready for calculated, master-teachesstudent-all-he-knows fulfilment. Three Enjoyment. Unexpected, satisfying and touching.

Four

In Retrospect. A cosy Sunday night in when the weather’s crap but you want to feel warm. Four 089

derailroaded RELEASED 3 February

DIRECTED BY Josh Rubin STARRING Wild Man Fischer, Frank Zappa, Bill Mumy, Weird Al Yankovic, Dr. Demento

Larry ‘Wild Man’ Fischer has earned his name. A manic depressive and paranoid schizophrenic, The Wildman who worked with Frank Zappa, was the first artist to record on Rhino Records and was picked up in Britain as a favourite of John Peel. Yet much of his 60-odd years has been spent living rough, getting beaten up and singing songs for a dime. And it shows. Derailroaded is the story of his life; a series of almost-but-not-quite episodes from the peripheries of society, elevated above the standard rockumentary by its shambling subject and the sensitive touch of director/ producers the Ubin Twinz. On first encounter, Fischer’s music is nothing more than the wounded ranting of a madman; a cross between Uncle Peter and Camden Town’s midnight choir, he shouts and whoops his way through childlike lyrics that seem made up on the spot. These first impressions of dirty fingernails and domestic squalor are powerful, and when the talking heads begin to describe his work as nothing short of heartbreaking genius it’s tempting to see them as so many deluded wannabes, happily selfnarrating their way through their own brush with greatness. As the film progresses though, the pained songs grow in both emotional impact and musicality, and the Ubin Twinz gradually reveal

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their subject. They use exhaustive interviews, acres of archive footage, a patchwork of animation, cartoon strips and even a puppet show to offer a window, as the film’s subtitle says, “inside the mind” of Wild Man Fischer. Compared to Fischer’s own music and interviews though, these techniques are only asides in the story. Fortunately the Ubin Twinz are simultaneously friends, fans and filmmakers, and their subject is given plenty of space to show exactly what it means to be him. Hurt, angry, vulnerable and funny, his songs are able to convey the turmoil in his head far more effectively than any psychedelic flick trick. By the time the film comes to its conclusion we’re starting to understand the many levels of his life and art. Steve Watson

Anticipation. A night out with a manic depressive. Wicked. Two Enjoyment. A lovingly compiled picture of a classically flawed character. Four

In Retrospect. His songs will loop in your head for days, the product of an enthralling character rather than an inane chorus. Three

cRYIng fIST Asian cinema is cool right now, riding a violent wave of hype and credibility that’s only going to get bigger before it breaks. But while we’re seeing more new films from Japan, Thailand and Korea than ever before, that means there’s a lot of dross being washed up on our shores. Breath easy, because Crying Fist is one of the decent few. So good, in fact, it reminds you of why people got excited about Asian cinema in the first place. Min-sik Choi is Gang Tae-shik, a man past his prime, alienated from his family, looking for one last chance in the ring. Seung-beom Ryu plays a street hood with a streak of explosive, uncontrollable violence; until he finds boxing in prison. What elevates Crying Fist is that it is not the standard Rocky ripoff. Though the two principals never

RELEASED 9 December

DIRECTED BY Seung-wan Ryoo STARRING Min-sik Choi, Seung-beom Ryu, Ho-jin Jeon

meet until the final fight, when it comes, not only is it impossible to anticipate the winner, you’ll want both to win equally. Its greatest achievement, though, is to bring realism back to the boxing genre – an honest realism that is refreshing in a film that follows a relatively simple formula. More fundamentally, it has a real emotional impact that while not quite a KO, delivers a victory on points. Judges’ decision is final. Jonathan Williams

Anticipation. Didn’t the Rocky franchise kill boxing films? Two Enjoyment. Just real enough to work. Three

In Retrospect. Character beats action, after a damn good fight. Four

pRImE

RELEASED 10 February

Anticipation. What the tin says. Prime rump. Three Enjoyment. Surprisingly real, enjoyable and honest. Four

In Retrospect. Romcom-erama-with-Uma. And depth. Three 8:51pm: Leave the cinema, hiding my appreciation. Rom-coms shouldn’t be this good. Don’t want to be found out. 8:47pm: The film crescendos with an unexpectedly well thought through ending. No happily ever afters, no twee scenes or joy and no guff. Arise Sir Young, you’ve tamed the rom-com beast. 8:35pm: A superlative scene of parental meeting captures the mood of fear, anxiety, dominance and tenterhooks.

DIRECTED BY Ben Younger STARRING Uma Thurman, Meryl Streep, Bryan Greenberg

8:20pm: Younger’s let himself down – a clichéd scene featuring both stars, sat in respective apartments pondering their relationship through rain-smattered windows. Rom-com by numbers? 8:15pm: Grandma’s beating herself around the head with a frying pan. Genius. 8:07pm: “His penis is so beautiful, I just want to knit it a hat.” Er... 8:04pm: Streep realises Thurman’s bedding her son. “Shit, shit, shit...” (repeat to fade) Inevitable, but well delivered. The fact she ends up in therapy herself is top-drawer. 8:01pm: The film touches on inter-cultural marriage and age-differential relationships – surprisingly so for a ‘rom-com’. It’s all delivered with flair, within the box, but at least utilising all four corners of available territory.

7:52pm: The film was wandering. One piece of humour has just set the tone though, warming me immeasurably to the whole film. Greenberg gets ID’d. At 23, next to Thurman’s 37, it’s an obvious but comfortable nod to the age-gap. 7:49pm: Awkward phonecalls. We’ve all been there. But shouldn’t Thurman have *69’ed? 7:35pm: Ouch. Greenberg’s digging a hole for himself in a bar. Using a JCB. Non-standard humour with depth – it’s to Younger’s credit. 7:22pm: Okay, they’ve met. 21 minutes in. In the words of Agent Smith, there’s an air of inevitability. Rafi (Uma) seeks solace postdivorce with therapist Lisa (Streep). Even without seeing the trailer, it’s easy to guess Streep’s the mother. 7:15pm: The opening music cheered me up. Good tunes always do. Why don’t more directors value the effect of a score? Adrian D’Enrico

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lady vengeance When the holy shit shock of the new, new thing finally breaks, the Korean wave is going to crash against reality’s cold, hard shore. But whatever Darwinian future lies in wait, with the release of Lady Vengeance, the final chapter in Chan Wook Parl’s revenge trilogy, one thing is certain: its director is the most exciting and enigmatic voice that Korean cinema has ever produced. This is go-for-broke filmmaking of peerless virtuosity and carcrash daring. Elusive, bewitching, dark, unfulfilling, funny, violent dishonest – Lady Vengeance is a film balanced so acutely on the serrated edge of its own pioneering spirit, it can’t help but occasionally cut itself. Lee Geum-ja is released from prison after serving 10 years for the abduction and murder of a young child. Pitched against the ethereal detachment of this

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DIRECTED BY Chan Wook Park STARRING Choi Minsik, Lee Yeong-ae

RELEASED 10 February

slender angel, the brutality of the killing sends a spasm of voyeuristic revulsion through a hungry press pack. This is a movie of exteriors – of rage lashing out in ever-widening circles against a backdrop of vast, empty spaces, but it’s rooted in the dark delicacy of Lee’s inner demons. Though Park’s visual repertoire will be familiar to fans of his previous work (he even retools his celebrated sidescrolling effect with similarly violent intent), those films feel like little more than a deep breath before the full-throated roar of the real thing. Dreams, flashbacks and hallucinations cross-cut and interweave, skidding drunk across the floor of a film that constantly threatens to careen out of control. But this is a director at the top of his game. No longer a mere urban stylist, Park reveals himself

as an elusive, oddly Europhile New Waver, casting aside whole narrative conventions with dazzling contempt. Scenes skip, sluice, and fade, stretching the fabric of celluloid before juddering to a halt with the elegance of grinding vinyl. For a full hour it’s an incomparably disorientating experience. Then suddenly the penny drops, and even though you can’t tell where the hell Lady Vengeance is going, the getting there starts to feel a little bit like a revolution. Is it perfect? Hell, no. Park’s relentless visual emphasis aestheticises what should be a purely visceral denoument. When vengeance is finally served, it’s one more weapon in an arsenal of kinetic excess that replaces any essence of a moral framework with a too-cool grab-bag of conceited emotional trickery. Moreover, a

female perspective adds nothing to a trilogy which, really, had very little to say about vengeance in the first place. Even so... According to Park, “the overload of rage, hatred and violence became poison and made my soul into a barren land.” Really? God help us when he hits a creative streak. Matthew Bochenski

Anticipation. The final chapter of a revenge trilogy from the most dangerous director for decades. Five

Enjoyment. Pushes

boundaries almost too far. Beguiling, yes, but also bemusing. Three

In Retrospect. Like the after effects of a nuclear bomb: will fuck with you for years to come. Five

reasons

lucky

to join

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walk the line RELEASED 3 February

DIRECTED BY James Mangold STARRING Joaquin Phoenix, Reese Witherspoon, Ginnifer Goodwin, Robert Patrick

Jonathan and Adrian talk in a pub in central London... J. So we’ve just seen Walk the Line starring Joaquin Phoenix, Reese Witherspoon and ... that guy from Terminator 2... A. Robert Patrick, he was well good. So what did you think? Had you heard anything about it? J. Yeah, I’m a bit of a Johnny Cash fan and... the start was absolutely brilliant. The rhythm, before you even heard the music come in was so powerful, I really liked that. A. It set the scene, I don’t know anything about Cash whatsoever but the whole film followed how you thought it was going to go. He goes from zero to hero, then back to zero again, then back up... J. Yeah it’s a familiar story, but that’s his life, that’s what happened. A. I think a lot of rock stars’ lives follow similar patterns; success, then burn out. Also, does Joaquin want to look any more like Ray Liotta? Man alive. J. When you think of Joaquin Phoenix you think Gladiator. You know what Johnny Cash looks like and that’s not him, but... it was him. He was brilliant. Not just in his facial expressions, but in his whole manner, that intensity. For me he became Johnny Cash, he really got to the heart of the man. A. Was Joaquin really singing then, or was it dubbed? J. That was really him singing. 094 THE JARHEAD ISSUE

That first scene in the recording studio... absolutely amazing, I couldn’t believe that was him. But did you enjoy it because I was sceptical about how enjoyable it would be for someone who didn’t know Johnny Cash. A. The story on its own was complete and very well told. I felt a lot of empathy for the characters. But they might have shown only the best parts of his life. For all I know he was a complete wanker. J. Well he was a bit of a wanker in this. He was no saint. A. Yes, but that’s what true life films should be all about, showing the good with the bad.

J. I don’t think they’d have been able to get away with a saccharinecoated version of his life. Not for someone like Johnny Cash. People have too much respect for him. A. Yeah, true. J. The kid who played his brother was ace... I know it’s a cliché and lazy to compare all decent child actors to River Phoenix, but that is who he reminded me of. And that scene later in the film where Johnny is talking to June Carter about his brother... you can’t help but think about his... Joaquin and his real experiences. That was a really touching scene. A. There have been a few films

recently – band biographies and the like – that have been just fan-boy films, with nothing else. But this was a brilliant film in its own right. For me it could have been a work of fiction and I’d still have enjoyed it. J. It would have been a commercial move to keep on with the story till the end of his life, the amazing music he made later on and the recognition he got before he died. A. What, before he Cashed his cheque? Yeah, either the guy had a prophetic realisation that his life was going to be made into a movie and set about filling his days with a whole lot of cool shit accordingly,

kEEpIng mUm

DIRECTED BY Niall Johnson STARRING Rowan Atkinson, Kristin Scott-Thomas, Maggie Smith, Patrick Swayze RELEASED 2 December

Let’s face it; it’s been years since a decent British comedy hit the screen. Sure, Four Weddings and a Funeral was funny, but Richard Curtis has attacked audiences with enough clones to make them immune to Hugh Grant’s bumbling charm. And whilst The Full Monty had its moments, it was still, well, missing some balls. Enter Keeping Mum. Originally set in the US, this is Murder Most Horrid meets Nanny McPhee. Sound surreal? You have no idea. Reverend Goodfellow (Atkinson) is obsessing over the perfect sermon, Gloria Goodfellow (Scott-Thomas) is breaking the Seventh Commandment with golf instructor Lance (Swayze), and whilst son Petey is being bullied at school, nymphomaniac daughter Holly is doing more rounds then the posties’ bike. In comes nanny Grace (Smith) who wastes no time solving the family’s problems. Think Mary Poppins, but instead of a spoonful of sugar, try a shovel full of vengeance. Keeping Mum is a bizarre mix of Brit wit and subtle satire. or, he’s just been really lucky and just had a really interesting life. J. What did you think of Reese Witherspoon? A. I’ve always despised her and she has the most disgraceful chin, but to be fair, I’ve probably not given her a go and she was quite credible in what she did. J. I could see why Johnny would fall for her. You could see she had something about her. A. Definitely. She was sassy. J. You can think about artists around today, how many of them could go into a prison and have all the prisoners in there excited to see them and into the music? That

Johnson keeps the surprises coming, and the cast puts out well too. Atkinson pulls off a pretty good no-laughs part despite the inner-Bean sometimes bursting through. But it’s Maggie Smith who shines as Grace, storming her lines with a veteran’s calm, spinning potentially bad jokes into chucklers, and good ones into popcorn spillers. If it falters in its dramatic responsibilities, it’s still a film with laughs at its heart. It won’t set the world on fire, but there hasn’t been a more original comedy this year. Rob Drake

Anticipation. A film about a moralistic nanny on the big screens. Two Enjoyment. A refreshing story with a British accent, thank you very much. Three

In Retrospect. Dramatic naivety detracts from an otherwise memorable romcom. Three

came across in the film so well; how much people respected him and loved his music, the affection and reverence those prisoners had for him was compelling. A. He had integrity. What he did, he did because he felt at the time that was what he had to do. Whatever the shortcomings in his character he lived for the moment, but was very intense. J. He was a good guy. To hear a man singing with integrity, like the guy told him in the recording studio, that’s a moving thing. A. Yeah, Britney’s not ‘Toxic’. I just don’t believe her. TAPE ENdS 095

everything is illuminated DIRECTED BY Liev Schreiber STARRING Elijah Wood, Eugene Hutz, Boris Leskin RELEASED 25 November

Version 0.1:

Someone

should warn the Hollywood moneymen before they cough up for their next ill-fated literary adap. Books and films are a different kettle of fish sticks. Many an attempt at transposing fiction onto the big screen has ended in utter ruin – take Tom Wolfe’s Bonfire of the Vanities. Awesome book. Naff film. Lesson learned? Sadly not. If ever there was a competition to see which film accentuates the disparity between the two media the most deeply, Illuminated would surely take gold. The author of the book upon which this film is based (the sage-like Jonathan Safran Foer) impressed hardened literati with his miraculous way with words, taking a relatively clear-cut narrative (a man goes in search of the person who saved his Grandfather during World War II) and producing a novel which is as much about the way in which stories are told as the stories themselves. Fans of the book will leave this film with inevitable disillusionment: first-time director/screenwriter Liev Schreiber has been unforgiving in his plundering of the text, allowing very little of Foer’s literary chutzpah to make it to the screen. Elijah Wood’s performance is amiable, and Eugene Hutz and Boris Leskin as Alex and his Grandfather do their best in roles that are essentially comedy Ukranians. And that’s where the film falters.

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This is essentially a culture clash comedy of the most primitive order, with some lively titters along the way, but nothing really life affirming. During the final act, the overall tone plummets to one of po-faced melancholy, leaving a bitter taste in the mouth and no real emotional resolution. The cloying use of Klezmer music (Jewish jazz) will not only have many teeth ground down to their stumps, but amounts to nothing more than emotional puppy fat on this already flabby enterprise. David Jenkins

Anticipation. Best novel

since 2000. Four

Enjoyment. Ohh, this is quite good? Oh... no it’s not. Two

In Retrospect. Clumsily adapted, this is really basic stuff. A missed opportunity. Two

Version 0.2:

Jonathan

Safran Foer’s 2001 Holocaust novel marks Liev Schreiber’s directorial debut – a move fraught with danger

for an actor with a burgeoning career. A move akin to suicide when it’s the actor’s screenplay involved. Thankfully, it’s a move which has paid off. Woods proves he’s no one-trick wonder-horse as a young Jewish man determined to find the woman who saved his grandfather from the Nazis. It’s an inspirational performance, full of sterile charm and infectious demeanour. A far-cry from Middle Earth, Illuminated swaps the spartan wastelands of Mordor for the bleak war-torn carcass of Ukraine. Battered but not beaten, its spirit is epitomised by the individuals strewn across its landscape. Holding impromptu markets on airstrips, building wells with shovels and flagrantly disregarding their financial poverty to concentrate on their inner wealth, Schreiber’s characters offer strength, depth and wonder. Visually, there’s a strong sense of clarity to the director’s style. Sparse, but bold and powerful – like his script. Sunflower fields, black suits, azure skies. Clean, crisp and particular

– empathising enigmatically with Wood’s fascination for collection and his penchant for cleanliness. Grandfather (Boris Leskin) offers moments of sheer hilarity (seeingeye bitch), Eugene Hutz strikes a chord as Alex (think Borat meets Ali G) and Laryssa Lauret offers a truly wonderful portion of poignant humanity and history as Lista. With no knowledge of Foer’s original work, Schreiber’s outing stands tall as testament to his scripting potential and directorial promise. Equal measures of humanity, hilarity and honesty mould Foer’s literary clay into a well-lit vase. Go fetch me some sunflowers. Adrian D’Enrico

Anticipation. Great trailer, great actor... great director? Three Enjoyment. Powerful,

enjoyable and striking. An audiovisual treat. Four

In Retrospect. Enriches, raises questions and provoked thought. Clear? Four

777 4(%#(52#(/&,/.$/. #/ 5+ ).&/ 4(%#(52#(/&,/.$/. #/ 5+

The Church Of London Ltd.

DESIGN ART DIRECTION ILLUSTRATION

breakfast on pluto Glam may have been born among London’s 1970’s gay scene, but it was in dour recessionhit northern towns that it claimed a generation of men with little glamour in their lives. It is then, no surprise that a boy born into a repressive Catholicised Irish town could turn into a full-on starry-eyed tranny. Such was the basis of Pat McCabe’s (non-autobiographical) novel, here brought to the screen by that master of confused sexuality – Neil Jordan. Breakfast on Pluto is a rich gender – (genre?) bending fantasy, blending straightforward, transvestite-based laughs with social commentary and poignant vignettes of doomed relationships. Our heroine is the beautiful Kitten (ably played by Cillian Murphy – a man who is no stranger to weird roles), on a journey to find her mother from her Irish home town, where she is born and abandoned, to the bright lights of pre-Thatcherite London. Kitten experiences life through fairy tales and fantasy. Her mother

just like heaven Audiences lap up romantic comedies because they have a charming and light-hearted appeal. Just Like Heaven is the latest hackneyed Hollywood production to follow the plot of boy meets girl, boy gets girl – with a foregone conclusion that fails to deliver any form of excitement or suspense. Mark Waters directs this half-baked script about Elizabeth, a highlystrung workaholic (Reese Witherspoon) who despite her brains and beauty possesses a non-existent love life. On her way to meet her sister for dinner, she is involved in a car-accident which

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RELEASED 13 January DIRECTED BY Neil Jordan STARRING Cillian Murphy, Liam Neeson, Stephen Rea

is always described as a dead ringer for Mitzyi Gaynor (of South Pacific fame). She imagines herself a secret agent, becomes a magician’s assistant, falls in love with a glam rock singer, and lives for a while as a Womble on Wimbledon Common. This film has much to recommend it. The commentary on Catholicism is deft and cutting. By the end of the film the confessional booth and peepshow have become one. In addition to this, there are stand-out performances from Murphy, Neeson as his father and Stephen Rea as a crumpled magician. Best of all is the glam-tastic soundtrack from The Rubettes’ ‘Sugar Baby Love’ to T-Rex’s ‘Children of the Revolution’. The big problem lies with Kitten. Nothing affects her sense of grace, humour and absolute refusal to take anything seriously. From near execution at the hands of the Provincial IRA, to attempted murder in the hands of a creepy Bryan Ferry, Kitten laughs and carries on unperturbed. No reason

RELEASED 30 December

is offered as to why Kitten is so frivolous. Her upbringing, while not ideal, hardly seems reason enough for her almost suicidal refusal to look after herself and face up to life. This makes it impossible to actually relate to Kitten, or to ever understand her motives. It’s a shame, because it’s this that takes the film away from the realm of great insight and pathos and keeps Breakfast on Pluto a simple movie about a girl who gets into all sorts of scrapes but comes out at the end still smiling and (of course) immaculately dressed. Andy Davidson

Anticipation. Never enough films about transvestite cabaret singers in 70s. Four

Enjoyment. Some laughs, good tunes, glamorous clothes. Three

In Retrospect.

Pleasant memories of a silly film. Two

DIRECTED BY Mark Waters STARRING Reese Witherspoon, Mark Ruffalo, Jon Heder

propels her to the ethereal plane. As a phantasm she pesters David (Mark Ruffalo), a widower who has the misfortune of renting her apartment. Together, they attempt to figure why she is stuck in the human world when she should be living it up in Heaven. Insert some dream sequences and a popular Cure song rehashed, and you’ve got yourself another reason to throw up in your mouth. The consistently moribund narrative is in places shocked into life. “Clever” references to Ghostbusters, The Exorcist and the appearance of Jon Heder

(Napoleon Dynamite) as a stoner occult bookstore adviser, do resurrect a rather stale and slowmoving story mid-way. However, not even these comedic moments or an unexpected plot twist could save this script going straight to hell. Lieu Pham

Anticipation. Another post-mortem love story – I’m feeling ill. One Enjoyment. Death seemed the only escape. Two

In Retrospect. Death was the only escape. One

HARRY poTTER AnD THE goblET of fIRE Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without the Harry Potter juggernaut rolling into town, but here’s a festive surprise; Mike Newell’s Goblet of Fire is a rollocking adventure story. Subtle changes have paid off. Gone is the turgid school-year structure, and in its place a roller coaster thriller that sees Harry cast into the Triwizard Tournament to pit his wits against dragons and Death Eaters. By jettisoning the majority of Rowling’s breeze-block books, Newell injects his film with real dramatic momentum, wriggling free of the nervy self-seriousness that engulfed his predecessors. Gambon’s Dumbledore is more agile and alive, chiming perfectly with Gleeson’s rumpled Mad-Eye. These are Irish actors from the old mould, and the pair of them look like they’ve spent the whole year getting pissed in the staff room. And yet this is a colder, more dangerous world. Not the faux-darkness of Azkaban, but a living, breathing sense that with Voldemort’s return, there are no more easy answers. The trial of Barty Crouch is an exceptional set piece of lurking violence that captures a palpable sense of the horror that engulfed this community. It’s not all doom and gloom, however. Miranda Richardson

RELEASED Out now DIRECTED BY Mike Newell STARRING Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, Rupert Grint, Michael Gambon, Brendan Gleeson, Ralph Fiennes

adds a dash of sex appeal as Rita Skeeter. In fact love is all around this year at Hogwarts. Even Moaning Myrtle is horny as hell. While his acting remains hit and miss Radcliffe’s Harry is developing into a fascinating dramatic hero. It’s an unusual balancing act – make him too perfect and he’s unsympathetic, and yet to see him quite as vulnerable as in the final act – a breathtaking, pitch-black showdown with Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes having far too much fun for his own good) – is seriously unnerving. It’s testament to Newell’s creative cojones that Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire will scare the shit out of the books’ core audience. But in rooting this magic in a world of real consequences, he’s put a wilting franchise right back on track. Matthew Bochenski

Anticipation. The series thus far has been about as fun as a Cruciatus curse. One Enjoyment. Refreshing,

surprising, exciting, scary, lush, gorgeous... This is the real deal. Four

In Retrospect. There’s plenty here to keep you purring till next year. Three

099

Doom

DIRECTED BY Andrzej Bartkowiak STARRING Rosamund Pike, Karl Urban, The Rock

It was inevitable that there would be a film of Doom; it was perfect in so many ways. Since the game was so influential, had so many fans, and since so many of those fans had been so affected by it; some couldn’t even approach a corridor without crapping themselves about what lurked within. The plot is as expected. It is more or less sufficient to say that a crack team of marines is sent to investigate a quarantined research facility on Mars, where strange things have been happening. With a liberal spraying of cliché, the mystery is soon explained when a genetic mutation is discovered that is turning people into zombies and other kinds of nasty creatures. Guess we’ll need some big men with big guns then.

RELEASED 2 December

The monsters have been based upon real enemies from the game, which are acted rather than CGI, but they are let down by poor lighting. This is presumably to add atmosphere, but it is just one of many things that are wildly different from the original games. However, there are a few nods to the game, such as the inclusion of the BFG9000 and chainsaw weapons, both iconic amongst those who have played any of the titles. What’s more, some of the characters in the film are named after the game developers, and you also see actual scenery detail from the Doom 3 game and so on. Unfortunately these touches just don’t really do enough to recreate the essence of the game, or the experience that was Doom.

There’s enough wrong with the film that the simple inclusion of a handful of elements from the games and a frenzied sequence towards the end from a first-person perspective, are just not enough to make it work. Doom was very, very scary to play. But at no point in the film do you jump out of your seat, and it certainly won’t have you obsessing and twitching like the games have done for anyone who ever loved them. The game’s great strength was that it hinged on the idea of a lone soldier battling his way through Hell, with nothing and no one to rely on, but his wits and an assortment of weapons of mass destruction. The much weaker premise of genetic mutation could never live up to the idea of opening up a gateway to hell itself.

This turns Doom in to just another zombie film with marines in space shooting monsters. Although there are some solid action-man performances from Karl Urban and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, and a couple of nice fight scenes; there is no avoiding the fact that this is a cynical money-spinner that fails to do justice to a franchise that means so much to so many people. Luke Nestler

Anticipation. Get the

BFG out! Four

Enjoyment. Same shit different title. Two

In Retrospect.

Astoundingly unoriginal; gamers deserved more. Two

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www.duckandcover.co.uk

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I AM SAM mOnisHa rajesH Pinned dOwn samantHa mOrtOn tO disCuss feisty wOmen, Her faVOurite films, and BAD SANTA

“Sharp”, “difficult”, “erratic”, and according to Tom Cruise, “like lightning in a bottle”. Last minute research has induced a new sensation of panic.

Fear is starting to kick in and tiny needle-like sensations cover my neck after wrestling with the wrong door at London’s S & M café. By a window fogged with steam emanating from the kitchen, a girl on a phone is tugging at her closely- cropped hair, doodling flowers on a tiny notebook and complaining that she’ll need to get home early to do Esme’s tea. Moving onto a quiet table, Samantha Morton dumps her dark blue coat on the chair next to her. She pokes at her piercing, aquamarine eyes and apologises for being so tired. Cupping her face in her hands she leans forward across the table and waits. Warmed by praise for her role in The Libertine, her expression melts a little and she thanks me. Did she enjoy it? “Yes.” Next? In comparison with her previous roles of Agatha, the pre-cog in Minority Report, Sarah, the loving mother in the bittersweet In America and Hattie, a mute in Sweet and Lowdown, the role of Lizzy Barry, a seventeenth-century theatre actress in The Libertine, seems vastly different. A fraction of a frown flickers across her face and those eyes slice through me like shards of glass. “Do you think?” she questions. A game of verbal dodgeball ensues and she explains that doing a film in a period setting was unique, but the role of Lizzy Barry was not dissimilar to the independent women she has encapsulated in the past. She says – while heaping two huge spoons of sugar into her coffee – “I was very familiar with the play, and really hoped to get that part. She doesn’t come across as being very nice, and I think you have to be the kind of person that doesn’t mind 

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playing someone who doesn’t have such an emotional pull. She’s not a victim, but she’s really feisty.” There’s no doubt that Lizzy Barry exudes a strong, independent and no-nonsense air – (not dissimilar from the one I am receiving from across the table) – her certitude fired by Depp’s lewd, shameless and rambunctious Earl of Rochester. But was Depp the kind of stage companion that Morton expected him to be? She stretches, revealing several ladders in her turquoise jumper and a couple of holes under the arm. “People are just how they are. I take people as I find them and I respect people as people. I don’t respect them more if they’re a star. Johnny’s an incredibly gifted actor and I was incredibly excited about working with him as well as John Malkovich (the fat-nosed Charles II adorned with a finely glossed set of ringlets.)” Morton succumbing to the shiny superficiality of stardom seems highly unlikely. It’s impossible to peel away her outer layers, quite simply because she doesn’t have any. From her humble roots in Woof! and playing Abbey the blind runaway in Peak Practice, she now has two Oscar nominations, holes in her jumper, pronounces “laugh” “laff” and cried with laughter at Bad Santa last night after having had a shit day. She shrugs: “Some people like the glory part of it, but as you grow up you change so much. Your reasons for doing it and the things that make you happy change.” For Morton, the challenge and allure of her job is developing new skills on demand. She relaxes against the wall, swirls her coffee around and says: “You think you have a technique for your job and then something else comes along and you have to completely re-train. You can’t compare any of your film roles.” And as iconoclastic roles go, her lead in Lynne Ramsay’s Morvern Callar laid down the gauntlet as her most challenging to date, (and that’s including the mute in Sweet and Lowdown). At the suggestion of playing a blind person, her eyes flash and she leans forward: “I would love to be offered the role of a blind person. Do you think I could do it?” However, Morton firmly believes that an individual’s role can’t make or break a film. “When you’re part of a film, it’s so difficult to say what you thought of the film. To have an overview, you need to see it all.” She hasn’t seen The Libertine and asks what it’s like. She also asks when it’s out. And if there’s a premiere. But it’s not arrogance or even indifference. Working through the script, performing and bringing life to a character gives Morton her kicks and that’s where it ends. In her eyes, the film slowly levitates away from the filmmakers and becomes the possession of the audience. “It’s not my film, or even our film. It belongs to the people who travel to the cinema, fork out the ticket price and give two hours of their time to gratify our self-indulgence.” On the subject of her favourite films – Night of the Iguana, La Belle et la Bête, and The Apartment – her face softens. She’s smiling and her eyes twinkle contentedly because she’s talking about her passion and not fending off impertinent questions about her childhood. “Film has so many different elements to it that I find fascinating. You look at the credits at the end of a film and you think ‘all those people made that’, and that to me is just magic.” On her journeys, wading through a mire of directors, films and documentaries, has she ever believed a film could be crap? She frowns and raises her moth-eaten eyebrows, still a bit sparse from the shaving they received for Minority Report: “I don’t think a film can ever be crap, but I think the process of filmmaking can become ridiculously political at certain levels. I’m a bit old-fashioned. I believe in one film maker. I know that’s not how it is, but I am very romantic about film and I love the idea of a director with a vision who takes it right the way through and has the final cut.”

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Strategies, planning and “grand projects” aren’t of paramount importance to Morton. At present she’s working on a low-budget film in L.A where she plays a traffic warden. The list of directors she would like to work with is endless: Terry Gilliam, David Lynch and John Glazer, to name but a few. And what about who she would have worked with? Sam Fuller, Billy Wilder and Stanley Kubrick if given the chance. Morton stretches again revealing another ladder across her stomach and she rubs her eyes again. She’s extended her stay and it’s time to let her get back to Esme. She waves from the doorway and then shouts: “Oh shit, I forgot to pay for my coffees.” I shoo her away and she runs off up the road. Sharp? Yes. Difficult and erratic? No way. And as for lightning in a bottle? The Cruiser was bang on with that one 

ILLUSTRATION BY ANDY POTTS

The Libertine is reviewed on page 82

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pROFILES fOur mOre Of Our faVOurite PeOPle

hope DAviS. Male supporting players, especially those who

predominantly hang with the indie cool kids, somehow attain instant lionisation within certain cinematic circles. But what about women? Why no cult femmes of the Buscemi, Macy and Guzman ilk? Hope Davis is about to change all that. Her chameleon-like ability to seamlessly adapt between roles is nothing short of astounding. Hailing from New Jersey, Davis popped her acting cherry in 1996’s Daytrippers and has shown a keen eye for both spotting indie gems and powerful low-key dramas. It is telling that her first role as an actual human being (Joyce Brabner, the real-life wife of Harvey Pekar in American Splendor) is perhaps her most notable, stealing scenes from the mighty Paul Giamatti like a God-damn cat burglar. Her monologue in Splendor where she compares Revenge of the Nerds to Martin Luther King Jnr.’s “I have a dream...” speech is perhaps one of the funniest pieces of dialogue to have appeared in an American film for a long, long time. And here’s the good news; Davis crops up in a fair few movies this coming month, in Proof opposite Gwyneth Paltrow and Jake Gyllenhaal, as well as The Weather Man with Nic Cage and The Matador with Pierce Brosnan. David Jenkins

peter DinKlAGe. “This profession I’m in is absurd.” As a

dwarf actor subject to the vagaries and prejudices that arise in the wild world of Hollywood, Peter Dinklage knows a thing or two about the absurdities of a film career. How many dwarf actors can you think of who have secured genuinely memorable roles? Yes, that’s a rhetorical question. Yet Dinklage played one of the most enduring leading men of recent years in The Station Agent. Finbar McBride was a four foot seven inch drifter who attracted a small group of oddball friends, drawn to him as a small town oddity. Dinklage’s performance was appreciated because he played a fascinating, multi-dimensional character whose dwarfism was incidental, rather than someone whose main function in the film was that they were a little person. “It’s a testament to the film that Tom [McCarthy, director] made you forget about the dwarfism,” says Dinklage. “It’s a part of it, but it’s not the overriding thing. With the sense of humour it had, and the lack of morality being shoved down your throat, that’s why people responded to it.” Dinklage has since carved a niche in American independent cinema, starring alongside Steve Buscemi, Patricia Arquette and Will Ferrell in indie gems such as Living in Oblivion, Human Nature and Elf. He says that the “quality of the writing” maintains the vibrancy of a movie scene that has the balls to entertain audiences on its own terms. “I’ve been lucky. I’ve surrounded myself with smart people that work over and over with each other and develop repertory companies. With independent films, you develop relationships and work together more than once. The independent film community is very strong in that way. Very loyal.” Dinklage will next be seen in the UK in December in a re-make of Lassie and then in a somewhat unlikely pairing with Vin Diesel in Sidney Lumet’s Find me Guilty. He says that one of his great ambitions is to do a film with Mike Leigh. Working with the British low-fi legend would continue the thread of superior small budget movies that run through Dinklage’s career. Leigh’s dryly comic, yet all too realistic characters, would be perfect for an actor who has been so successful at challenging stereotypes. Until then, we wait with bated breath for Dinklage’s next starring role. Nick Yates

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mAtt Dillon. They say a good man is easy to kill. Well, if that’s the case, hand me my Desert

Eagle; I’m off to shoot Matt Dillon in the gut. From his breakthrough role in Gus Van Sant’s Drugstore Cowboy, Matt Dillon has been a leading man par excellence, and the fact that dependability may be his defining trait is nothing to be ashamed of. Dillon, in short, is a rock. From parts in romantic dramas such as Singles and Beautiful Girls, he shows immense malleability in being able to also star in good-natured slapstick farces such as There’s Something About Mary and guilty pleasures such as Wild Things and To Die For. Dillon’s latest role as famed beat author Charles Bukowski’s alter ego, Henry Chinaski, in Bent Hamer’s Factotum is arguably his greatest role to date. Not only is it a performance of doleful charm, but it highlights Dillon’s refreshing lack of ego and overall assiduousness when it comes to immersing himself in a role. In fact, it’s pretty hilarious that someone could make two such polar opposite films (Herbie: Fully Loaded and Factotum) in the same year. Dillon is currently filming a comedy called You, Me and Dupree (the plot sounds similar to that old Bill Murray film What About Bob? get in!) and he’s starring alongside Owen Wilson and Kate Hudson. Good man. Good work. David Jenkins

juliette binoche. To admirers of world cinema, watching your first

Juliette Binoche film is an important rite of passage. Possibly the most vital female presence in modern French cinema, her commitment to locating challenging and memorable roles is akin to the cop who just wants to make one last bust before retirement. No retreat. No surrender. Cutting her teeth in a selection of understated dramas during the early ’80s, Binoche gained notoriety on the back of some extreme performances in Leos Carax’s Les Amants Du Pont-Neuf and Kieslowski’s Three Colours: Blue. A leading lady in the tradition of Isabelle Adjani and Catherine Deneuve, Binoche is also able to flit effortlessly between weighty English language dramas and working with some of Europe’s most thoughtprovoking directors. To wholly contradict the previous sentiments, Binoche is starring in the decidedly average Bee Season next month, but all is forgiven for her searing portrayal of a wife under the potential threat of surveillance in Michael Haneke’s haunting Caché. 2006 sees Binoche teaming up with Jacques Audiard, director of The Beat That My Heart Skipped, for his new film Les Disparus. Also, word around the campfire is that her performance as Mary Magdalene in Abel Fererra’s Mary is a career best, and for an actress as exhilarating as Binoche, it should be something to set your alarm for. David Jenkins

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SHORT FILM edited by james bramble

Editing suites can be hired but are extremely expensive. Editing is either online or offline. Online is the quality and format that the video was shot in, and offline is the format it will be edited in, i.e. a smaller, often-compressed format. For instance, HD may be offlined in DV, and DV in Photo-Jpeg. Editing suites are available as “wet hire” or “dry hire”, meaning with or without an editor to assist you.

The “get out there and make it” mentality of many short filmmakers can sometimes blur the realities of actually producing a film. James Bramble gives us a guerrilla guide to getting it made.

Lighting While digital video arguably requires less lighting expertise than film, it is important that you understand the particular requirements of the format you’ve chosen – DV films can be ruined by both too little, and too much light. Get plenty of practice with your camera’s white balance and booster features, and decide whether you’re going to be able to manage on just available light. If not, some reflectors and a redhead might help.

Script Nothing is more important than a script. Without a quality script, no casting directors, agents, producers, actors or funders will be interested in assisting you. More importantly, no matter how great that “troublesome” shot of a moving train is – your film will be rubbish. Think about your target audience, and buy a good book on scriptwriting (such as Elliot Grove’s Write and Sell the Hot Screenplay) to hone your craft.

Sound Pay attention to sound. Your equipment will include microphones, but it’s important to remember that sound can be as difficult to edit as the images. While problems can be ironed out in post-production, make sure the person you’ve entrusted with the boom understands that it’s not as simple as just pointing it at the actor. They should have a feel for atmospheric sound and understand something of the mechanics of sound editing.

Cameras Our advice here is simple: hire. Film cameras are fast being replaced by DV, and any DV camera will rapidly become redundant as digital video develops. Unless you are going to be using your camera constantly, and/or hiring it out to others, it’s a waste of money to buy. Most hire companies will also provide a package including all the supplementary equipment you’ll need to run the camera. While film purists may be tempted by 16mm or even 35mm, unless you’ve secured Film Council funding, DV is your only realistic option. Not only does it cost more to hire film equipment (around £200 per day for 16mm) there’s also the cost of film stock, developing, editing, transfer to video, etc. HDV, contains four times more pixels (1440 by 1080) than a standard TV picture. Great for George Lucas but if you are only going to watch the film with your mates on your old telly there’s not much point. Your money might be better spent on a professional quality DV-Cam, such as the Sony PDX-10, as used by the BBC (c. £200 a week). Our advice is to speak to the experts and tell them exactly what you want to shoot, how you want to shoot, the colour, lighting, etc. Also consider the size and weight of equipment. A smaller camera may be useful if you want maximum mobility.

Crew If you can’t gather enough mates to help, consider hiring a cameraman or other crew members. As with editing suites, equipment such as cameras and microphones can be hired “wet” or “dry”. Directing is about delegation. With an expert cameraman, you won’t have to learn the technical side and it’ll leave you free to keep an eye on everything else.

Anatomy of a Short Film

Editing Post-production is expensive, even for video. A range of software suites exist to allow “non-linear” editing (i.e. using a computer rather than transferring video to a master tape) to be done at home. The software itself is expensive (£409 for Adobe Premier, £600 for Final Cut Pro) and you will need a computer with serious power, especially for HDV. Look into buying an old version (making sure of compatibility). Apple’s Final Cut Pro can handle all formats and is arguably the best suite, so if you have a mate with a copy, and a powerful Mac, start being nice to them.

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Props For that period production, or medical drama, there are a wide array of prop shops (see links below). Don’t stint on props and pay attention to how they will affect the film, lighting and contrast. Actors Spotlight (www.spotlighted.com) provides a full directory of actors and agents who you might be able to persuade to act gratis, if your script is good. Production and Casting Report (www.pcrnewsletter.com) is read by many actors and agents and an advert, stating clearly if there is no money involved, might work. Otherwise, you’ll want to use non-professionals, students (try the local drama school), or amateurs (the local am-dram society). Useful Links: www.4rfv.co.uk - A full directory of companies offering everything from cameras, lighting, props, casting and editing. www.shootingpeople.co.uk - The UK’s best network for filmmakers. Networks provide invaluable advice on companies, equipment and techniques. Thanks: Pat Holden, Colin Hutton, Jim McRoberts, whose films were featured in the Soho Shorts festival.

ILLUSTRATION BY PAUL WILLOUGHBY

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future ShortS preSentS: future cinemA The star of short film is rising. This is in no small part due to organisations such as Future Shorts, whose agit-prop events promote the medium to all and sundry, wherever, whenever and however possible. From a cinema complete with usherettes and red velvet seats at Glastonbury to Rock ‘n’ Roll Cinema at London’s 93 Feet East in Shoreditch where short films are followed by bands and DJs, these are quite possibly the most happeningest happenings since the 14-hour Technicolour Dream. Future Shorts’ latest outing was as part of the London Film Festival. Future Cinema was a burlesque of contemporary shorts shown in four themed rooms, interspersed with light shows, VJs, exotic dancers and all manner of weirdness. The subterranean caverns beneath London Bridge were decked out like an opium den where mock Victorian bathers with ginormous cantilevered breasts and bums cavorted, bounced on beds, waggled their legs in the air, and demanded to be spanked. Moulin Rouge beauties and walls of gloved arms flirted and fought with passers-by. With all these distractions, it might have been easy to overlook the films themselves, but large queues outside the screenings acted as testament to the immense popularity of short film. The programme included music videos by Michel Gondry and Dan Gordan, Mike Leigh’s A Sense of History, Buñuel and Dali’s Un Chien Andalou, whole programmes of Sexy Shorts and animation, as well as a plethora of unknown gems from the UK and abroad. Specific examples are too numerous to mention but all act as proof of short-film’s own belle époque, and the UK’s place right in the centre. James Bramble

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fourDocS Revolutionary things are taking place in grassroots documentary filmmaking at the moment. The movement is currently spearheaded by Channel 4’s nifty new online FourDocs project, a spokesperson for which said that the movement “represents the democratisation of documentary filmmaking. Anyone with a story to tell or an opinion to voice can submit their film to FourDocs.” So why are people starting to support up-and-coming documentary makers? It’s not just that digital cameras and editing software are now so affordable, it’s simply that there’s a lot of bad stuff going on in the world at the moment and people have lost faith in the old figures of authority to tell them what to think about it. So, FourDocs wants the world and its wife to have their say – in a brisk four minutes. Whether it’s a movie by an old leftie denouncing the Iraq war, or a schoolboy honouring his local sweet shop, everyone is welcome. The site (www.channel4.com/fourdocs) is still in its infancy, but there’s already an excellent and diverse selection of shorts to view. Plus, those behind the site are dedicated to providing a comprehensive insight into the documentary-making process. There’s an impressive archive of treasures from the likes of über-documentarist Humphrey Jennings, austere British founding father John Grierson, as well as Nick Broomfield’s face-slapping The Leader, His Driver and The Driver’s Wife. Best of all, there are extensive user-friendly guides to the entire process of doc-making for wannabe doc-ers, including straightforward explanations of why your computer often doesn’t work like it should when you’re editing. So get your ass on the streets and have your say on the state of our cruel, cruel world. Charlie Phillips

beSt v beSt Best v Best is exactly that – a face-off of this year’s short film prize winners from, amongst others, Sundance, Edinburgh, BAFTA and Berlin. Highlights include Two Cars, One Night, which finds two parked cars outside a remote bar in New Zealand. As bored children kill time waiting for unnamed adults in a bar, the viewer is drawn into a magical and thoroughly charming world of playground insults and a diamond ring. However, the most affecting film was Family Portrait, winner of the Grand Jury Prize for Best Short Film at Sundance. It’s a delightfully serene document of Richard and Diana, the only survivors of a family living in the projects in 1960s Brooklyn. We made a late-night call to director Patricia Riggen in California to ask how she made her awardwinning short. You shot the film on $500 – how did you manage that? I borrowed a camera from a friend in Mexico and made this tiny movie with no resources and a lot of love. I shot it in three days, edited it at a friend’s house and then put it away because I didn’t have enough money to finish it. When my thesis piece La Milpa won the Student Academy Award, they gave me $5,000 and that’s what I used to finish Family Portrait. Richard and Diana make great subjects, but how did you find them? I met Richard because he worked as a handyman in my building at Columbia University. We became friends and he told me about Gordon Parks (photographer for Life magazine and director of Shaft) and his family’s story. One day I noticed that there was a Gordon Parks show on and found out that pictures of Richard would be there. So I told Richard not to go to the show until I had a camera because I wanted to capture that moment. That is the most important moment in the documentary because we are able to see the profound sadness of these people looking at pictures of themselves. Gordon Parks is clearly important to the piece but you use him sparingly. Everyone told me to give Gordon Parks the central place in the movie because he is a ticket – if you have Gordon Parks, people want to see it – but for me it was never about Gordon Parks. I wanted to have him in because he is the voice of reason, an objective outsider, but the movie is really about a regular guy called Richard and his family’s history. You couldn’t get funding to make a film about poverty in America so you funded it yourself. It must be a subject close to your heart. I didn’t want to push it throughout the whole film. I just make a little point at the end and you realise what I wanted to say. Because what’s important to me is that all the little stories of poverty we hear in the film are happening right now and they shouldn’t be happening. Not in this country anyway. I feel like the difference between art and entertainment is that art entertains but also means something, and I very much want to do things that mean something. Steve Watson Best v Best Vol. One is out on DVD from 5 December www.wordofmouthfilms.org

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DVDS

reViewed by miranda COllinGe, rOb draKe, riCH HeaP, daVid jenKins, neOn Kelly, adrian sandifOrd, and dan stewart

the uniteD StAteS of lelAnD releASeD 26 Dec. What better way to pacify the anxiety caused by a wayward girlfriend, loveless parents and an uncertain future than to brutally murder a disabled kid? Leland (Ryan Gosling) is sent down for doing just that, but as luck would have it, a liberal prison tutor (Don Cheadle) thinks he might actually be some kind of boy genius. Phew! With a plot that feels like it came free with a Kinder egg and a central performance that negates any cred Gosling may have accrued from his role in The Believer, this shallow, overcomplicated mess of a movie is as bad as its less-than-catchy title would suggest. DJ

SeconD SiGht film noir threeSome: boDy AnD Soul, cAll northSiDe 777, force of evil releASeD 30 jAn. Between them, this triplet of ’40s noir thrillers

cover so much thematic and stylistic ground, they should be deemed essential purchases for anyone interested in exploring the roots of cinema, as well as anyone who’s a sucker for a powerhouse central performance. John Garfield, who stars in Force of Evil and Body and Soul, comes across like an undiscovered Mitchum or Bogart in terms of on-screen magnetism and unconventional looks. Abraham Polonsky, the writer of these two films, was blacklisted from Hollywood for his radical left wing views; a position that shows with Force of Evil and its plot involving an attempt to consolidate a number of small-time rackets into a single prevailing force. Body and Soul on the other hand is a polished amateur boxing drama that Martin Scorsese obviously relished in terms of quality research material when it came to making Raging Bull. Again, Garfield’s charismatic central turn certainly makes it upsetting that he is little known among the younger generation of film aficionado. Hopefully, these films should rectify that. The weakest of the three (but still highly enjoyable) is Call Northside 777, a crime thriller set in prohibition-era Chicago starring James Stewart and Lee J. Cobb as a pair of Woodward and Bernstein-style investigative reporters whose fight for the truth takes them to some dark, dark places. You don’t really associate Stewart with tough guy roles, but here he pulls it off with gusto and verve. All three films offer a unique insight into the tropes and fashions of ’40s filmmaking and, as such, should be snapped up post haste. DJ

it’S A WonDerful life releASeD 28 nov. Just because Frank Capra’s

It’s a Wonderful Life is on every Christmas doesn’t make it sappy festive crap. Basically it’s punk, 1947 style: George Bailey (James Stewart) is sticking to high ideals and taking on The Man, like Joe Strummer in ’40s small town America. After a while he gets frustrated with this sort of life, just like every suburban garage rock band. And when things go wrong he turns self-destructive like a suited Sid Vicious. What’s more it revolves around an attempted suicide – how rock ‘n’ roll. Or you could just watch it for a feel-good finale that will melt even the iciest heart. RH

KinG KonG (1933) releASeD 5 Dec. Anyone

heArtS AnD minDS releASeD 21 nov. Michael Moore has

called Peter Davis’ account of the Vietnam War “the best documentary ever, if not the best film ever.” This is a little over the top, but Hearts and Minds certainly does the business, standing apart from other anti-war flicks. This is real life, real people dying, real GI cursed brothels, a real man executed in the street during the Tet Offensive. This is real blood. This is real journalism. Brutal and unrelenting images accompany a wealth of sound-bites. Images are always in danger of falling into repetition but this is a triumph over cliché. Ageing well, the iPod generation will still be shocked by the poignancy of this 1974 film, available on DVD in the UK for the first time. RD

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who thinks 1933 special effects are a weakness of King Kong is wrong. They give the film a “How did they do that?” factor that a glossy CGI King Kong couldn’t. The other problem with a CGI King Kong is that more realism equals more terror, destroying any sympathy the audience has and, in the process, damaging the touching ending and key subplot of his unrequited love for ’30s hottie Fay Wray. We’ll have to watch the 2005 remake but it’s got a lot to live up. The ’33 original is a rollicking yarn and the half hour sequence where the titular ape tears up the jungle is pure childish fun. RH

chArlie AnD the chocolAte fActory releASeD 21 nov. Tim

Burton’s biggest commercial success in recent years is also one of his weakest efforts. Typically-high production standards ensure that everything looks nice and shiny but fail to make up for an icy script in bad need of a heart transplant. Things improve immeasurably once Johnny Depp turns up to steal the show, although his Wacko-Jacko-Wonka becomes increasingly disturbing as time drags on. While far from being a Planet of the Apes style train-wreck, Charlie is ultimately the cinematic equivalent of a deep-fried Mars bar: messy, a bit sickly and a lot less fun than it should be. NK

the tit AnD the moon releASeD 5 Dec. When Spanish auteur Bigas

Luna wants to wheel out the shocks, it’s usually cart loads of sex, sex and more sex (see Jamon, Jamon and Golden Balls). With The Tit And The Moon, lactating has become his new taboo of choice, and as such, it’s a film where a state of female toplessness seems almost natural. The plot of a young boy’s quest to drink milk direct from the breast is at times a tad silly, but Luna’s voracious appetite for farce and his robust direction show he has the potential to mature in a similar way as fellow countryman, Pedro Almodovar. But the real burning question here is can anyone dislike a film that opens with the line: “Could I have your breast?” DJ

WAr of the WorlDS releASeD 14 nov. Spielberg is back

with extraterrestrials but there are no singing motherships or glowing-fingered muppets here; just three-legged killing machines that zap people into dust. If you can swallow Tom Cruise as a blue-collar worker and stomach the eerily gnome-like Dakota Fanning there’s much in the way of gratuitous destruction to enjoy here. However, the 9/11 imagery that permeates the film – walls of missing people posters, debris of plane-crashes, dust-covered survivors – can sometimes make the popcorn entertainment unpleasantly bitter. The two-disc DVD has no commentary from Spielberg but production diaries, a documentary on HG Wells and design features help fill the gap. DS

DuKeS of hAZZArD releASeD 9 jAn. If you think

a scene featuring a couple of hillbilly halfwits finding themselves accidentally blacked up and driving into a hood occupied by, you know, real life black people is nothing short of comedy gold, then jeepers, are you in for a treat. Slated universally, Jay Chandrasekhar’s Dukes of Hazzard has approximately 76 car chases too many, features Johnny Knoxville, Jessica Simpson and (Lord forgive us) Willy Nelson in performances that are one shade above repellent, and puts the Civil Rights Movement back about five minutes. But, Seann William Scott is hysterical. Or is that just us? OK, guess so. MC

WilD At heArt releASeD 28 nov. Within five minutes of 1990’s

Wild at Heart Nic Cage smashes a guy’s head open on a marble floor and it looks like a senselessly violent two hours is on the cards. But then Sailor (Cage) and Lula (Laura Dern) take to the road to get away from hitmen and that opening shock gives way to something more sexy and sinister. David Lynch is on top form, keeping his audience on its toes with larger-than-life characters including obese Texan porn stars, pitch black comedy and a lot of Wizard of Oz references. Interesting. RH

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Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex boxed set Released 14 Nov. Why are you wasting your time reading this review when you could already be racing your way to the shops to buy what will be, for anyone with any sense, the most sought-after DVD boxed set of the year? Oh yes, it’s here: all 26 episodes of GITS: Stand Alone Complex. This is the ultimate science-fiction anime series. The action takes place in a world that has lived through a third World War; cybernetics and counter-terrorism played out in an emotionally engaging plot – all beautifully animated. Forget the film of the same name, this is a spectacular mini-series in its own right. You still here? Put your shoes on, grab forty sheets, and go, go, go. AS

The Devil’s Rejects Released 26 Dec. Rob Zombie excels

when it comes to dreaming up cool film titles. The films themselves are dross. The Devil’s Rejects is a loose sequel to House of 1000 Corpses and it sometimes hints at transcending its violent and nauseating roots, but never does. Taking its cues from ’70s grind-house classics such as Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Last House on the Left, Zombie spends the first half of the film instructing us to despise a family of murderers. Then, gradually, he intimidates us. Wants us to find favour with them, sympathise even. Trying to trick an audience into sympathising with a guy who’s just torn the skin off another guy’s face is a difficult trick at the best of times, and Zombie falls on his fat ass, big time. DJ

Dear Wendy Released 9 Jan. Take the intellect

of arch iconoclast Lars von Trier and shoot it through the eyes of his young protégé Thomas Vinterberg and whaddya get? Sublime genius? No. Quite a shoddy, low-key oddity as a matter of fact. When young pacifist Dick (Jamie Bell) falls in love with a pistol (the titular Wendy), he decides to assemble a motley band of like-minded gun lovers and names the group The Dandies. The conceit itself is tantalisingly original, but the direction is obnoxious, the acting is puerile and the drama is both anaemic and ill-judged. A missed opportunity. DJ

Fist of Fury Released 9 Jan. The King of Kung

Fu is back in this platinum release of the fans’ favourite. It’s not as polished as some of Lee’s other work, more martial than art, but at least makes an attempt to frame the spectacular fight scenes within the context of a sombre storyline. Lee’s martial arts student returns home to find his beloved mentor has been murdered by a rival Bushido school; a thinly veiled reference to Japanese occupation of China. Honour must be restored and revenge served without bringing the school into disrepute. The drama descends into panto in places but Lee is raw, passionate and mesmerising in this chop-sock classic: complete with its original Mandarin soundtrack and over five hours of new extra features. AS

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the friGhtenerS: peter jAcKSon’S Director’S cut releASeD 26 Dec. “YOU

MAGGOT!” Wait, is that Full Metal Jacket drill instructor R. Lee Ermey? Yes, but now he’s a ghost shouting at clairvoyant Michael J. Fox. Meanwhile, wisecracking MJF is chasing an evil spirit that looks like a flying blanket and getting into scary scrapes. Or that’s the theory, but Peter Jackson’s 1996 The Frighteners spaffs its best scares early leaving nowhere else to go. It toddles along fine until a slasher climax with a lot of “just in the nick of time” moments and a silly ending. Still, at least you get to see Ermey in what must rank among his weirdest roles. RH

the peDro AlmoDÓvAr collection (volume 1) releASeD 14 nov. To any self-respecting

Almodóvar obsessive, the four films included in this box set are commonly dubbed the “dubious early period”. Upon re-watching, apart from some lurid and outrageous content (Pedro himself appears as a penis measurer in a contest called the “General Erection” in Pepi, Luci, Bom), the films do have a peculiar charm about them. You really get the feeling that they were enjoyable to make, as well as presenting Almodóvar as one of the finest directors of women since Mizoguchi (although, not when he’s not taking a tape measure to a guy’s cock). The appropriately gaudy mise-en-scène always injects these films with a racy charisma, capturing punkera Madrid in all its deep red, pink and yellow glory. There are elements that the pedants among us may regard as dated, although all of them offer a plentiful supply of great characters and numerous scenes of sheer delight. Spanish legend Carmen Maura features in three of the films and hints at a sort of De Niro/Scorsese relationship with her director, a testament to this being her award winning role in the delightful Woman On the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (also included here). One gripe: no extras to speak of. Why oh why spend all this time repackaging the early work of a now world-renowned director and not give it the full DVD treatment? Damn fat cats. DJ

crASh releASeD 5 Dec. Widely

praised, Crash is neither as intelligent nor as inspiring as it thinks it is. Million Dollar Baby scribe Paul Haggis gathers a spirited ensemble cast for a highly emotional look at racism in modern LA The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and while Crash certainly doesn’t go that far the whole shebang suffers from an overly simplistic approach to some very complex debates. Still, Matt Dillon gives a strong performance as a bigot cop and there are just enough memorable set pieces to make it worth a gander. Includes a director’s commentary and making-of gubbins. NK

SeArchinG for the WronG-eyeD jeSuS releASeD 30 jAn. Jim White is

the California-born purveyor of Insurgent Country music who curates this journey into the hinterlands of the Deep South, explaining along the way what he loves about the culture and traditions of various Southern townships. The photography captures the squander and displacement of the rural inhabitants of the South and plays out like a romanticised version of Michael Moore’s Roger and Me, with religious fervour and down-home folklore seen as a key constituent of Southern charm and beauty. It slightly outstays its welcome, but it’s a bold, brave and beautiful film as well. DJ

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nAME DROppERS lessOn twO: abel ferrara

THE InSIDER industry insiders reVeal tHeir GlitterinG PatH tO suCCess. tHis issue: best bOy, matt Clyde

Abel Ferrara has lingered menacingly on the fringes of Hollywood for the best part of 30 years. He shot to mainstream semi-acceptance with the ’90s trio of King of New York, Bad Lieutenant and The Funeral. But it was his early low budget shockfests that initially gained him notoriety. First up there was Driller Killer. It was as perverse and shocking as its alarmist title would suggest, forever a byword for films that feature scenes of people getting a drill to the face. Capitalising on extreme themes, Ferrara following that with Ms. 45, which featured more excessive violence meted out, this time by a mute woman in retribution for her brutal rape. In short: Welcome to Ferarra country. Along with Wes Craven, Ferrara was at the centre of a bunch of horror maestros whose films notoriously came to be labelled “video nasties”. It is a no-holds-barred approach to the genre that is back in fashion in the form of gritty, retro efforts like Wolf Creek. However, Ferrara’s films, throw-away and wilfully gruesome they may be, are characterised by their supreme intellectual weight. It is not so much his style, more his subject matter and attitude to filming on the hoof, that sees Ferrara’s name dropped so regularly. He and his ’70s contemporaries ushered in a new era of guerrilla filmmaking. Ferrara starred in, directed, wrote the script, and soundtrack for Driller Killer. He probably made the coffee too. You only have to look at ’90s indie darlings like Rodriguez and Tarantino to see the parallels. After a period in TV, bashing out episodes of Miami Vice and Crime Story, Ferrara returned with a triumvirate of films that redefined the boundaries of cinematic bleakness. King of New York, Bad Lieutenant and The Funeral attracted big stars, but shone no more light into the darkness. All three are part of a new rare breed of Hollywood anti-hero that is steadfastly neither “good” nor “bad”. This species can be seen in films such as Bringing out the Dead, The Cooler and Lord of War. Just like Things to do in Denver When You’re Dead or, of course, Tarantino’s crime films, Ferrara’s works paint in shades of grey. They are character studies of sick, and sickening, individuals at perceived contrasting extremes of the law. Ferrara has explained his fascination with gangsters and cops as heightened expressions of everyday life. They are ordinary people trying to get by in extraordinary situations – they have the moral conflicts of an ordinary person but multiplied a thousand times. Nick Yates

Pardon our ignorance but what’s a Best Boy? They’re second in charge to the Gaffer, who is the head of the Lighting Department. There are different Best Boys (BBs) and I’m usually the Rigging Electrics BB. It’s up to the BB to coordinate what the Director of Photography wants. The Gaffer will talk to the Best Boy and say “we need to set up this shot” and the BB will organise it. We work very closely with the Art Department and Construction, and I facilitate all that. It’s very much an organising function.

at people’s weddings. I actually started out working for free for a couple of Gaffers. One day I was swimming at Bondi beach and a mate of mine rang and asked whether I wanted to be his Best Boy on a major film – that film was The Matrix.

Do you have to be a boy to be a Best Boy? Traditionally, I don’t find many women in the lighting game: it’s very strenuous and very physically demanding. Plus, it’s a bit of a boys’ club. Recently though, I’ve employed one of the first women in the crew and she’s been pretty impressive.

What are you working on at the moment? Superman Returns. It’s being directed by Brian Singer who did Usual Suspects. We’re trying to recreate the Superman empire that Christopher Reeve made famous and the film’s going to stick to the traditional story and original franchise. It’s going to be a very big film. In terms of the kind of money they’re spending, they’re saying Titanic standards. Lieu Pham

How did you get to be a Best Boy? I started off doing function lighting at special events in London and then went to Australia to work for a pretty prestigious lighting company. I became a BB because I got tired of doing the fairy lights 116 THE JARHEAD ISSUE

What advice would you give to budding Best Boys? Do something else. No just kidding - I do like my job but you have to be very persistent. You need to niggle and hammer away until someone says yes.

Film credits: Star Wars II & III, Moulin Rouge, Mission Impossible, Stealth, Matrix I, II & III and Superman Returns.

1. loneSome jim (Dir. Steve buScemi, 2005)

LFF RunDOWn

Steve Buscemi’s third film as director is very much in the vein of his debut, Trees Lounge – a gently melancholic essay on the warm burr of small-town family life. The film is positively fit-to-burst with wry and beautifully realised characters (Casey Affleck and Liv Tyler are both radiant in the leads), drawing out new life from the well-worn kid-goes-back-to-live-with-his-parents yarn. It’s a low-fi retelling of The Royal Tenenbaums without the ironic detachment; it’s Garden State without the f ’ing smugness; it’s the LWLies pick of the 2005 London Film Festival. Keep an eye out.

daVid jenKins seleCts sOme Of tHe finest Cuts frOm tHe 2005 lOndOn film festiVal

2. mAnDerlAy (Dir. lArS von trier, 2005)

The second part of Lars von Trier’s America Trilogy is every bit as maddening, infuriating and morally explosive as you’d expect from the man who brought us The Idiots, Dogville and Dancer in the Dark. Detailing the further travails of Grace, now played by Bryce Dallas Howard, and her efforts to enforce democracy on black workers who inhabit the titular plantation where slavery is still in full swing 70 years after its abolition. Some will find it a churlishly constructed, juvenile piece of cinematic bullying, others will bask in glee at the cloudburst of ideas, assembled with von Trier’s trademark visual panache and dark, dark humour. This reviewer was very much in the latter camp.

3. l’enfAnt (jeAn-pierre AnD luc DArDenne, 2005)

The Dardennes’ follow up to 2002’s The Son is an unapologetic, yet neatly cut slice of life on the brutal and unattractive streets of Belgium’s Liege region. When reckless huckster Bruno sells off their child for a quick cash fix, mother Sonia is outraged at his ambivalence towards human life. The film then follows Bruno’s attempts at retrieving the baby, and while not quite being up to the standards of their masterpiece, Rosetta, the finale still delivers one hell of an emotional body blow.

4. DArK horSe (Dir. DAGur KAri, 2005)

Kari’s follow-up to 2003’s low-key delight Noi Albinoi, cashes in on the potential of that film to produce a shaggy dog story that is beautifully captured in stark monochrome and has an almost preternatural ability to mine the comic side of every small tragedy. Simply delightful. Triad in-fighting is the focus of this brutal Hong Kong epic, homing in specifically on the traditional rite of electing a new gang leader. With double, triple and quadruple crossings a-plenty, this is a riotously enjoyable, and sometimes horrendously violent film which will appeal to fans of the Infernal Aﬀairs series.

6. tAKeShiS’ (Dir. tAKeShi KitAno, 2005)

This is Kitano’s most experimental film to date. It’s about the life of a movie star, the dreams of a movie star, actual stars, and the life and dreams of a convenience store clerk who is also a doppelganger of a movie star. Taking a leaf from the Mulholland Drive school of narrative construction, dreamscapes are layered thickly upon one another and there is a constant shift of focus from hard-boiled shootouts, to erotic fantasy, to surreal comic set pieces. Think Su-Doku: The Movie - you’re certain it works, but not quite sure how.

LONESOME JIM

5. election (Dir. johnny to, 2005)

7. A cocK AnD bull Story (Dir. michAel Winterbottom, 2005) 8. the Soup, one morninG (Dir. iZumi tAKAhAShi, 2004) This no budget Japanese chamber piece about the effect of a religious cult on a young couple took a while to get into, but by the final hour the emotional stakes were so high I almost dropped my Nacho hat.

9 fActotum (Dir. bent hAmer, 2005)

MANDERLAY

See review on page 88.

Although Dillon nails Bukowski’s literary alter ego Henry Chinaski with aplomb, the real hero here is Bukowski’s prose – droll to the point of breaking, and crushingly heartfelt. Many may feel that the film as a whole feels insufficient, but it perfectly captures the author’s intentions: the plight of a man who lives for his love of Scotch and women.

10. mirrormASK (Dir. DAviD mcKeAn, 2005)

Comic adaptations take another giant leap, this time with an actual comic book artist (Dave McKean) taking up the reigns of this Neil Gaiman penned fantasy. The animation is often jaw dropping and the performances are all spirited to say the least, but MirrorMask is most certainly an acquired taste.

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the prosecution. Cameron Crowe’s liner notes to the 1993

release of Bob Dylan’s Biograph retrospective offered the world a man who was able to articulate his obvious love of art in an understated and sensitive way. Over a decade later and ol’ Cam is still slogging away to bring cinema audiences understated and sensitive in their many guises. In fact, Cameron Crowe is surely at the point of ODing on understated and sensitive. The universal panning that his latest, Elizabethtown (the cinematic equivalent of drowning in golden syrup) has received will come as a welcome put down to the increasing number who find Crowe a manipulative, sallowfaced dreamer intent on producing cinematic escapism of the lightest and most intellectually redundant type. He’s a point and click filmmaker, never provoked by his subject matter to digress into riskier territory. After films like Sid and Nancy, Performance and 24 Hour Party People, something like Almost Famous seems about as culturally and cinematically relevant as Spiceworld: The Movie. Who’d ever have thought that following a rock band in 1970s America could be so anodyne? What about the John Bonhams and the Keith Moons drinking themselves to death? The pint glasses full of cocaine? The ten-man orgies? Crowe relies too heavily on his knowledge of rock music and the benign belief that he can translate achingly cathartic three-minute pop songs in 120-minute feel-good dramas full of hot young things. Cameron: change the record mate. David Jenkins

THE TRIAL

defendAnt: CAMERON CROwe CHARGE: film fraud

the defeNCe. It’s always the same with the Crowe-bashers: “his films are

Summing Up. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

you’ve heard the evidence before you. Cameron Crowe: repetitive, manipulative and sickly-sweet dreamer or charming, warm courier of joy? You, the jury, decide. Is the defendant guilty, or not guilty, of selling fake shares in golden syrup and running off with the cash? Email your verdict to backsection@littlewhitelies.co.uk The first twelve people to respond will decide – verdict delivered next issue. Who would you next like to see in the dock?

so sickly sweet”; “he’s such a self-indulgent writer”; “‘you had me at hello’ made me wanna puke!” My response to these people is: Who cares? So what? And so why do you keep quoting it, dickhead? Crowe makes films bursting with warmth and charm, and yeah, life ain’t always warm and charming, but that doesn’t matter because – shock horror – life and film are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS. If I wanted to see a film about pissed off people standing in the rain on a dirty street corner, I’d damn-well take a walk. I want to see films about impossibly attractive, shiny, wonderful, friendly, unpretentious people who kiss when it rains, fall drunk in love, hug strangers, take drugs with no consequences and generally do things how we all might like to do them once in a while. Fuck the Requiem For A Dream-ers with their buzz-saw amputations and ass-to-ass action – give me Almost Famous and a good old Elton John sing-a-long on a bus. Yes! Crowe is a great writer and an even better director. He can make you feel something through words, images and music with a sincerity and freshness that’s totally of his own and utterly great, and you know it. The man is a golden god and anyone who hates him just hates life. There’s a goodness in people that Cameron Crowe wants to talk about, so let him. There’s nostalgia and emotion in music that he wants to make us feel, so let him. Whatever he wants to do or say, just let him. Give the man a break, you miserable bastards. Bryan Graham

Last issue’s defendant: Tony Scott Charge: Grievous bodily harm (against film) Verdict: NOT GUILTY

competition winning things is good

Comic books are cool. Award-winning graphic novelist Harvey Pekar (played by Paul Giamatti in American Splendor) is back with The Quitter, the story of his troublesome teen years. It’s a funny, heart-wrenching, and universal tale of the frustrations of ordinary life. We’ve got hardback copies of this beauty, courtesy of its lovely publisher Titan Books, to give away to three lucky readers who pass judgement on defendant Cameron Crowe. Email backsection@littlewhitelies.co.uk with your verdict and competition entry.

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check out... bruce lee, 65 this issue

Sunday 27th November is the 65th birthday of Bruce Lee and what better way to mark it than a big old celebration of the legend’s life. Part of this is a series of special Londonscreenings of Enter the Dragon; Lee’s last film and the first martial arts movie to become a blockbuster. Beginning at 00:01 at the Ritzy in Brixton for some late night action, you can catch showings at City screen cinemas throughout the week and pay homage. For further information visit www.picturehouses.co.uk

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WWW.PAULSMITH.CO.UK

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Dir. Liam Lynch

Maybe you’re thinking that the joke behind Tenacious D is wearing a bit thin, but Jack Black and Kyle Gass are going to milk their pseudo-ironic rock formula until every 12 yearold in the world knows how to mosh. Director Liam Lynch, most famous for the Foo Fighters’ ‘Learn to Fly’ video, is playing along, but when the credits include Satan as executive producer, a degree of suspicion is more than warranted. Audacious? We’ll see, Mr. D. ETA: March 2006

19 The Untitled World Trade Center Project. Dir. Oliver Stone

It’s tricky to know where Stone’s going with this – documentary, survival movie or shameless sell-out? Relatives of the victims are already bleating about Stone’s potential ‘insensitivity’ and accuracy of source material. Perhaps they’re afraid that somebody’s going to manipulate their grief for their own sick agenda. Again.

Disaster movies can gross big in the box office (think Titanic), and the studio may have had one eye on the turnover of Passion of the Christ, but cathartic platitudes won’t guarantee this movie success. Finely judged, sensitive action with credibility will. Stone should book a plane ticket though - in case his film misses its mark. ETA: 2006

18 The Wendell Baker Story.

Dir. Andrew & Luke Wilson

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20 Tenacious D.

Luke Wilson (large jaw) ropes in brother Owen (large nose) to act, and brother Andrew (unknown) to co-direct in his first jaunt behind the camera. Expect Luke’s creation to be good-natured, quirky, and generally charming in his quest to win back the love of his life, Doreen (Eva Mendes). Are the Wilsons outliving their Southern-fried schtick? Not quite yet. ETA: 2006

17 The Da Vinci Code.

Dir. Ron Howard

Tom Hanks stars, along with Tautou, Sir McKellen, Alfred Molina and Reno. It’s hard not to anticipate this predictably gigantic summer release, but The Da Vinci Code is a fundamentally un-cinematic novel - a series of anaemic think-offs spiked with huffing and puffing. This is one dossier in need of some sexing up. But, respect to you Ron. Go cash that cheque. ETA: May 2006

16 Aeon Flux.

Dir. Karyn Kusama

Another day, another adaptation. Aeon Flux, based on the animated series, finds survivors of a mysterious disease clustered in a totalitarian stronghold. Theron stars as the titular assassin revolting against a consortium of scientists governing the city. The indie favourites cast (McDormand, Okonedo) seems at odds with such a hyperkinetic actioner, and it remains to be seen how Aeon’s high-concept sci-fi will translate. Will the flux capacitor hold out? ETA: March 2006 123

15 Invasion

Dir. Oliver Hirschbiegel

Mars Attacks is back. Oliver Hirschbiegel directs Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig. Kidman, a Washington psychiatrist, unearths the origin of an alien epidemic, while discovering her son might be the only way it can be stopped. ETA: 2006

14 V For Vendetta.

Dir. James McTeigue

With Watchmen now officially shelved, V For Vendetta, a tale of terrorist violence in a near-future London, assumes the full weight of ‘serious’ comic fans’ expectations. How high should they be? Hmm. While an accident of timing gives it a bracing relevance, why can’t Hollywood learn to let comics be? V is a seminal work of awesome depth, rooted in a very specific milieu and medium. Expect this class-conscious political thriller to morph into classless Hollywood action fodder. ETA: 2006

13 Syriana.

Dir. Stephen Gaghan

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The true story of CIA agent Robert Baer is given the Tinseltown treatment by newbie helmer Stephen Gaghan. It’s an ambitious political thriller with more settings than a Dutch dildo; from the bribebroken back alleys of Washington to sun shagged Persian oil fields. Editing room excitement has led to some bold moves; Michelle Monaghan has had her scenes cut from the film after negative test screenings, but Clooney and Dylan are rumoured to enjoy their finest hours. ETA: March 2006

12 Miami Vice.

Dir. Thomas Carter

The vice boys are back to bust some Florida drug fiends. Michael “The Man” Mann returns to his ’80s glory days by resurrecting Miami Vice for the big screen. Farrell and Foxx are on MTV cop duty as Crockett and Tubbs, while The Man steps up as producer, writer, and director. Expect cops, cars, coke, chicks and clothes all drenched in pastel hues. The budget swelled from $120m to $200m, but that’s in no way down to Farrell’s reportedly intensive “research” into the Miami drugs scene, your Honour. ETA: July 2006

11 Sin City 2.

Dir. Robert Rodriguez

Despite being a soulless exercise in graphic gimmickery, Frank Miller’s Sin City returns with version 2.0. Rourke, Owen, Dawson and Murphy are all up for a second outing in Old Town, and this time we’re promised a tighter focus for a prequel – of sorts – based on Miller’s A Dame to Kill For. With Rodriguez busy on Grind House, however, the streets of Sin City can sleep easy. For now. ETA: Summer 2006

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10 Southland Tales. Dir. Richard Kelly

Donnie Darko director (and mentalist) Richard Kelly may just unleash the cinematic equivalent of a cerebral haemorrhage in 2006, as the people of LA suffer a three day heatwave in a build up to 2008 4th July celebrations. Buffy as a porn star, The Rock as an amnesia-afflicted action star, and Sean “Fuckers” William Scott as a police officer with a secret? What do we make of this allAmerican party? Fuck, yeah. ETA: September 2006

Dir. John Turturro

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09 Romance And Cigarettes.

All-star cast, anyone? This is Hollywood’s latest musical fodder, centring on working-class New York where a man ponders the choice between mistress and wife (Winslet and Sarandon). It could be any man in any bar in any town. But it’s not – it’s Gandolfini. Singing. And let’s face it – with an opera body like his, this should be more alto than soprano. ETA: March 2006

08 The Departed.

Dir. Martin Scorsese

Scorsese’s latest comes gift-wrapped with a bow for his army of salivating supporters. But hang on, when did Hollywood’s most famous bridesmaid stoop to remakes? At least on paper it’s a good match. A remake of seminal Hong Kong original Infernal Affairs, the cast list reads like a fantasy role call of talent new and old: Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Jack Nicholson and the revitalised Alec Baldwin. Whether Damon and DiCaprio can match the subtle intensity of Tony Leung and Andy Lau is anyone’s guess, but the prospect itself more than justifies the 10-month wait until the film hits our screens. ETA: 2006

07 The Fountain.

Dir. Darren Aronofsky

This film is starting to feel like the rock album that gets shelved for years, only to be finally released to universal acclaim. Darren Aronofsky tantalised audiences with his first two films, only to baulk from the limelight for the past six years to make what will surely be his magnum opus. Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz star, replacing Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett who scarpered after funding was pulled. Even so, baited breath is an understatement. ETA: 2006

06 Brick.

Dir. Rian Johnson

Film noir meets stylised high school in Rian Johnson’s Brick, inspired by the novels of Dashiell Hammett. Joseph Gordon-Levitt follows up his turn in the over-praised Mysterious Skin as a loner determined to solve his ex-girlfriend’s murder. It’s a single-minded pursuit that involves intrigue, danger, and kids who all speak like they’re in an episode of Dawson’s Creek. Perhaps he should just get over it. After all, she left him. Let that be a lesson to her. ETA: 2006 127

05 Black Dhalia.

Dir. Brian De Palma

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The most accomplished actor of his generation, Josh Hartnett, joins Scarlett Johansson in Brian de Palma’s rendering of the gruesome murder of Elizabeth Short. Based on a true story, de Palma has promised a film noir made to “precise standards”, even if the Black Dahlia’s writer – James Ellroy – has dismissed Hartnett as “too pretty” and Johansson as a “stupid kid actress”. Way to network, James. ETA: 2006

04 The Fantastic Mr. Fox. Dir. Wes Anderson

Inspired by his experiences on the visually sumptuous,The Life Aquatic, Wes Anderson is turning full-whack to stop-motion animation. His tragicomic sensibility makes him the perfect foil for Roald Dahl’s darkly fantastical The Fantastic Mr Fox. You can’t really go wrong with Dahl – a novelist of vicious and nasty wit – so the onus is on Anderson to provide a picture of real dramatic heft. Unleash the hounds ETA: 2006

03 On The Road.

Dir. Walter Salles

A book written in months, based on the real life road trip taken by its author Jack Kerouac, On the Road is the American dream captured in print. It’s a daunting project for anyone, so thank god Walter Salles has recovered from whatever head-trauma prompted him to direct Dark Water. Even better, the script’s co-written by Francis Ford Coppola. The key roles of Dean Moriaty and Sal Paradise are yet to be cast, but Brad Pitt and Matt Dillon are just two of the names to crop up. Exciting times. ETA: 2007

02 Lonesome Jim. Dir. Steve Buscemi

Buscemi. A one-man movie legend. Lonesome Jim. His five star movie. Twenty-seven years old and moving back in with mom ‘n’ pop, Jim (Casey Affleck) is facing troublesome times. Struggling with the shift from the bustle of NYC to the mundane Midwest, Jim meets a nurse (Liv Tyler) hell-bent on making him less lonesome. Buscemi’s direction is beautifully understated, bringing integrity and depth to his sweet, sweet characters. We’ve seen it. We love it. ETA: 2006

01 Casino Royale.

Dir. Martin Campbell

Why hasn’t Casino Royale been made into a film before now? Bond, bankrolled by the British government embarrasses a sophisticated villain at the baccarat table. Belting. After the disastrous quasi-spoof Bond, Die Another Day, we pray the franchise can move in a new direction, or rather an old one. Daniel Craig has what it takes to recreate the sharp, tough Bond that Fleming describes in the original novels. Bring it on. ETA: 2006 128 THE JARHEAD ISSUE

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