The Romance Issue by Trinity Film Review

The Romance Issue

Trinity Film Review Volume 8, Issue 1

Editor’s Note I fell in love with Trinity Film Review as an eager film student way back in first year excited to find the perfect outlet for my passion. Through my years in college I have seen the Vice Issue, the Haunted Issue, the Women in Film Issue and even the Music in Film Issue, but I have known for some time now what my first issue as editor would simply have to be. I grew up watching films like Roman Holiday, Some Like it Hot and Gone With the Wind, reading books like Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights. For better or for worse, texts like these have shaped me into a hopeless romantic, all leading to this moment, Trinity Film Review’s Romance in Film Issue. Romance plays an important role in cinema, it creates emotional investment in films otherwise devoid of relatability. Romance can secure a film’s place in an audience’s heart with far more longevity than a good action scene can. Anyone with a passing interest in popular culture has an opinion on whether or not Rose could have saved Jack, you would be equally hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t know that Rick and Ilsa will “always have Paris”. Romance, whether doomed to fail or meant to be, is a key feature in the universal language of cinema from all over the world. Thank you to everyone who helped bring this issue to life, whether by rereading, editing or writing. I have to give special thanks to Keelin Shaughnessy who not only did an incredible job of designing this issue but whose input was an invaluable and always intelligent resource in the creative process of bringing this issue to print. Gratitude must also be expressed to Daisy Steele whose beautiful illustration fronts the issue perfectly. I hope this edition of Trinity Film Review satisfies the cinematic needs of all those reading. If nothing else I hope it has inspired a decent movie night with a heart-warming classic you forgot you loved or the exciting prospect of a film you’ve never even heard of before. To quote The Princess Bride, do with this issue “as you wish”, I ask only that you enjoy it.

EDITOR Rebecca Wynne-Walsh

CONTRIBUTORS Samantha Mooney Oisín Walsh

Lauren Boland Caolainn Daly Paul Dunne Jessica Egan Robyn Kilroy Cliona Lynskey Sophia McDonald Daniel McFarlane Síomha McQuinn Dara McWade Patrick O’Donoghue Ellen Pentony

DESIGN Keelin Shaughnessy

ILLUSTRATION Daisy Steele

Interested in writing for Trinity Film Review? We are always looking for new contributors. To get involved, email us at trinityfilmreview@gmail.com.

CONTENTS 2. The Before Series: The Talkative Cinematic Marriage of Linklater, Delpy and Hawke. Daniel Mc Farlane 4. Doomed ROmance Robyn Kilroy 6. modern masterpiece: Rust and Bone Rebecca Wynne-Walsh 8. NetFLix Gems 10. Romance and Relationships in LGBT Cinema Sophia MacDonald 12. Iconic shot: The Graduate Daniel McFarlane 14. Overrated / Underrated Samantha Mooney & Ellen Pentony 16. Iconic Couples 19. Audrey and Bill: The secret romance of classic Hollywoodâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s biggest stars Rebecca Wynne-Walsh 22. Reviews: Thor / Brawl in Cell Block 99 / I am Not a Witch / The Death of Stalin

The Before Series: The Talkative Cinematic Marriage of Linklater, Delpy and Hawke. By Daniel Mc Farlane LOVE: to command it is gargantuan, to demand it is a task within itself. “All you need is love”, said four rich white men once. The theme of love is probably the largest single source of inspiration for all works of art - cinematic or otherwise. How we tackle such issues is up to ourselves. For von Trier it’s perverse, for Luhrmann it’s manic and for Allen it continuously exists in the problematic mindscape of an urbane middle-aged man child. When it comes to love, the allround productive slacker Richard Linklater asks all the questions but holds the answers, for decades at a time. Much is to be said for Before Sunrise (1995). It’s the reason many amateur screenplays just read as conversations and why so many quiet types yearn to go inter-railing and find that soft-souled mate. Before Sunrise proves to be the timely intersection of three sentimentalities which, when married together, set the foundations for one of Western cinema’s most popular trilogies. Linklater had a personal experience of walking around a strange city with a complete stranger. Hawke was a fresh faced rising star and Delpy sauntered into the production having worked with a slew of European

auteurs. The rest is left to celluloid romanticism. Before Sunrise was released when most of the readers of this piece, and admittedly the writer of the piece itself had not even been born. This powerful film was discovered when many of us were moody teenagers. The easy conversations between the attractive couple of Celine (Delpy) and Jesse (Hawke) set alight a multitude of fantasies for the bored adolescent viewer. It wasn’t just the old-world, pensive Vienna setting that encouraged the opinionated parlaying between this duo. The visual chemistry between the two actors alone hooked the audience. Their dualistic opinions on people, dreams and love not only had us rooting for the couple, but in an oddly personal way, rooting for ourselves. If Jesse and Celine could retain lofty ideals on life and still manage to couple up after a few hours walking around old Vienna, it could happen to me! All was so simple, so romantic. They listened to old records, drank wine and passed street poets. What’s not to love? What happened? Life. Before Sunrise was popular with audiences and critics alike. It made

over $5,535,405 worldwide which was impressive for its uber arthouse aesthetic. Linklater, Delpy and Hawke let the work and the absence of a sequel speak for itself. Did they return and rekindle? Is it meant to be? In that All-American cinema style, the trio knew they’d always have Paris so to speak and chose to set Before Sunset (2004) in the aforementioned French capital. We learn that Jesse wrote a book, returned to Vienna and Celine did not. While Jesse continues to get drunk off the literary romanticism of their encounter, Celine grows unsatisfied with life and holds onto that nice-for-whatit-was, night with a stranger. The couple exchange the constant “I think” phrasing for a much more union-based questioning, as their once personal opinions have shifted into the exploration defining their relationship. “We” becomes the new title. As a viewer you get the sense of history and complication between the two. Jesse has a child, a wife and an unsatisfied marriage. Celine has a career in the humanitarian industry and is subsequently left devoid of hope for humanity. The sultry yellows and off-whites of Haussmann’s Parisienne architecture creates the perfect landscape for the visiting Jesse and city-native Celine to divulge the most deepest aspects of their personalities. Such visual iconography demands a level of pensive romanticism which by now is synonymous with the Before series. Sunset still holds onto the optimism that shined in Sunrise, nine years previous. In unison Jesse, Celine, and the viewer want this couple to stay together, but each party is painfully aware that individual responsibilities interfere with a perfect union. This tension reveals itself as during an argument in a taxi, Celine allows her hand to hover over Jesse. Her feelings and thoughts hang along

with her hand in this liminal space Not touching, yet not, not touching. It is there that she and the viewer are safe, even as the minutes before Jesse’s imminent departure diminish. Celine invites him into her aptly bohemian apartment. He sits on her sofa drinking tea as she sways to the dulcet tones of Nina Simone. She warns him with the swing of her hips “baby, you are going to miss that plane.” Jesse gleams, “I know”. The credits rolls and we are treated to another deferral of union. The less seasoned and more traditional romantic viewer has given up. But this is not a film concerned with traditional romantic unions. Instead, Linklater wants to explore what must be given up in favour of the romantic, his answer, togetherness. Once again Linklater exhibits all the questions while purposefully withholding the answers. Last in the trilogy, Before Midnight is a tough watch. It still has an exotic location – this time, Greece – and the same visual and dialogue techniques give the impression of those constant conversations between Celine and Jesse. This time it’s what they talk about that has changed. Jesse lives within his own writing while Celine argues she only exists within the demanding role of motherhood. These problems are juxtaposed with other characters’ belief in the romantic mythology of love, marriage and children. Linklater works hard to shatter those hopes in his effort to present a “realistic relationship”. In a climactic and exhausting argument everything from babysitters to living in America to falling out of love is aired. Younger viewers search for the optimistic couple, waltzing the streets of Vienna, while older members of the audience, who have aged along with the arguing couple, see their own issues being explored on screen. This generational divide reveals youthful ignorance sur-

rounding love. Midnight alienated viewers who didn’t like to be told what hardships lie ahead. We’re happy to accept star-crossed train travellers or meeting a soulmate in a Paris bookstore. What we romantics won’t accept is a forty-minute argument in a Greek hotel room. Before Midnight ends again with no concrete resolution of its problems. The romantic history Linklater has built propels

not only the audience but also Jesse and Celine to keep talking into the night, to keep joking and to keep loving one another. The Before series has truly stood the test of time. It’s one that provides for pleasurable re-watching, and a post-cinematic self-revaluation. Linklater proves it is not the broad strokes but the subtle interactions that reveal intimacy and love between soul mates.

Doomed Romance Robyn Kilroy explores the dark underbelly of romantic films that forsake the happy ending. Love hurts, that’s no secret. Within most lifetimes people encounter heartbreak from the breakdown of a romantic relationship, whether they saw it coming or were completely caught off guard. It sucks, but in my opinion, its seems basically unavoidable, a symptom of our species being social creatures. It’s a universal experience, which is why it works well in romantic (or anti-romantic) films. There are countless doomed romances in cinema, probably more than there are uplifting, ride-off-into-the-sunset flicks. There seems to be more of a tendency in modern romantic films for relationships to go sideways, perhaps coinciding with modern culture when it comes to love.

Whether we like it or not we can’t help but identify with certain aspects of heartbreak in films, whether it’s the characters involved or the circumstance they’re in. I can’t speak for everyone here (heartbreak is a personal experience as well as a universal one), but I believe that there are certain characters and themes in doomed romance in films that the heartbroken soul can relate to, therefore making them accessible to everyone. A film that I believe perfectly encapsulates heartbreak in the context of a modern relationship is Marc Webb’s 500 Days of Summer, the narrator reveals to us at the start that this is a story where two people meet, but is “not a love story”. While both characters

to some extent feel heartbreak in this film, the main one is Tom (Joseph Gordon-Levitt). His character is the perfect example of a person who falls for the idea of falling in love rather than falling in love with someone. It’s clear from the start that Summer (Zooey Deschanel) isn’t looking for a serious relationship and has a completely different view of love than Tom, yet he chooses to ignore these warning signs and embarks on the destructive path of a relationship. This is perfectly conveyed in the “expectation versus reality” scene where, from using a split screen, we see that Tom’s expectations do not meet up with the reality of attending a party at Summer’s home post-breakup. Instead of ending up back with Summer, he learns of her engagement to another man, and thus heartbreak ensues. In many ways Tom’s infatuation with love is a homage

to Mike Nichols’ The Graduate, which is referenced more than once in the film. Like Tom, Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman) incessantly pines after a relationship with clear faults, this time the daughter of Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft), an older married woman and a friend of the family. Despite the judgements of both families (and the jealousy of Mrs. Robinson) Benjamin fails to give up and (spoiler) runs off with Elaine Robinson (Katharine Ross) while she is in the middle of her wedding. The final scene of the film says it all; at the back of the bus, both running away from the wedding and their disapproving families, their smiles turn to a look of realisation of what they’ve just done, and what’s ahead of them. Caught up in the moment of romance and thrill, they failed to realise that they’ve committed themselves to each other and there’s no

going back. The film leaves their relationship open-ended, and it seems hard to see their relationship not ending sourly. In my opinion, both Tom and Benjamin are very real characters. If you’re someone who at one point in your life became infatuated with the idea of love without realising the repercussions or the faults of it, then you’re bound to know someone who has. While there are films that deal with the breakdown of a relationship, others go for the after effects of the doomed relationship. There are many films that deal with the post break-up blues but the one for me that perfectly conveys t is Michel Gondry’s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) (which happens to be my favourite film). In the world of this film it is possible to go

example). While this may seem like a good way to cleanse yourself of the pain these memories hold, more often than not we end up regretting it. We see this when halfway through Joel’s procedure he realises that he wants to hang onto the memories of the girl he once loved ( even still loves). You can’t help but feel his pain as he clings onto the happy memories of Clementine, attempting to hide her away in other memories to keep her safe. In my opinion, there’s an important message one can take from this film in regard to dealing with heart break. Sometimes it’s necessary to hold onto the memories of a past relationship, even if a lot of these memories are painful to remember. Despite the pain of a breakup, it’s important to recognise what went wrong so that you can grow and learn as

through a procedure that removes certain memories, including memories of certain people, allowing you to forget you knew them at all. This is what Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet) does after a her and Joel Barish (Jim Carrey) painfully breakup. Distraught, Joel goes through the same procedure. This “deleting” of memories to me seems kind of on par with deleting pictures of you and your girlfriend off your phone, or even burning your boyfriend’s jumper in the hopes of forgetting them (I don’t recommend the second

a person. There are countless examples I could’ve talked about while exploring this darker, less hopeful side of romantic films. While the characters and themes that these films present may not apply to everyone’s experiences of their own doomed romances, I see them as painfully realistic views on the modern conception of a doomed romance and indeed how to handle it. So whether you’re feeling heartbroken or just cynical about love, sit down with a bowl of ice-cream and enjoy.

Rust and Bone (Jacques Audiard, 2012)

MODERN MASTERPIECE By Rebecca Wynne-Walsh Jacques Audiard’s Rust and Bone can be considered a masterpiece of filmmaking on so many levels. It artfully presents itself as a romance, a family drama, a depiction of the struggles of the working class, and even an animal rights piece. For a film that holds its finger in so many pies however, it never loses grounding or focus. That is because this is a film with a palpable beating heart at its core, one that guides the action of the entire narrative even as we move between themes, times and characters. I would not class Rust and Bone as a straightforward “Romance” it is more suited to definition as an in-depth character study over the course of which two people happen to fall in love. In its search for heartfelt humanity rather than frivolous romance this modern masterpiece presents relatable and realistic characters.

The audience is begged to invest in not only the lead characters but the peripheral ones too, as we are invited on a journey of relationships, linked ultimately by love. We meet Ali first, played brilliantly by the massively underrated Matthias Schoenaerts. His appearance is hyper-masculine, even intimidating. This is why it is so jarring when we see him so willingly relinquishing his dignity scavenging for food on the train. He is first and foremost a father and while his head is not always in it, his heart is. He and his young son Sam have fallen into a dire financial situation and this proud father will do whatever necessary to see his son fed. Stéphanie we meet in a very different situation as she is involved in a drunken brawl in a nightclub. It is uncomfortable to see Stéphanie, played by the cinematic goddess that is Marion

Cotillard, in such a seedy role. Audiard undercuts expectations again when it is revealed that Stéphanie holds the unconventional career of an orca trainer at Marineland in Antibes. Katy Perry’s “Firework” plays over Stéphanie‘s orca show. A song that would fit neatly into a standard rom-com is markedly out of place given the pensive tone of this film. The very song that would add to the Hollywood fantasy of the rom-com here acts an agent of realism, given that it is in fact a song that is used in Marineland. Reality bites hard in this sequence, as a whale attacks Stéphanie. As mentioned, this film has its finger in a lot of pies. It is not explicitly focussed on animal advocacy, but it is an elegantly handled peripheral concern. This concern is timely in terms of the burgeoning activism surrounding the

captivity of orca whales at this time – SeaWorld trainer Dawn Brancheau having died in 2010, the investigations into her death were on-going in 2012, the year of Rust and Bone’s release. Furthermore, Cotillard has openly expressed her opposition to such whale shows as a dedicated environmental activist and spokeswoman for Greenpeace. In this way Rust and Bone intertextually deals with this problematic element of its diegesis. The understated romance that develops between Rust and Bone’s central characters, Stéphanie and Ali, stems from a place of friendship, support and real understanding rather than the perhaps more commercial motivation of physical attraction. Audiard presents a film about seeing people for who they are underneath their skins and, at times, underneath their actions. The viewer is placed in a subtly privileged, almost omniscient position. Able to witness characters at their best and worst. We are objectively shown the characters undermining themselves. For example when Ali insists in his job interview that he does not smoke, later we see him smoking casually with a co-worker but this incident is never addressed further. It is unclear if Ali lied about smoking to get the job, or if he simply took it up after he started. Audiard leaves his audience to form their own opinion of the lead character, the director paints half the picture but expects the viewer to finish it. Herein lies the magic of Rust and Bone. Seeing these people lie to each other, and indeed themselves, surprisingly serves to make them more likeable, or if anything more relatable. Audiard recognises that it is only in displaying their flaws that he can shine a light on the humanity of these characters. This brings a level of realism to the characters that makes them all the more believable. Although it makes a point of showing the character’s shortcomings, Rust and

Bone does not attempt to suggest that these problems are there to be fixed, they merely exist. These hopelessly flawed people are not to be seen as heroes, simply connected individuals struggling to make the best life they can for themselves and those they love – in that order, this is the inherent flaw that Stéphanie and Ali are forced to overcome. As the title suggests, Audiard presents a film of dualities, of doubles, of two halves of a whole. The central pair undoubtedly complete each other, refreshingly however, this fact is never exaggerated or

him to love her”. When Ali finally says those all-important three little words, it is at the lowest, saddest point in the entire film, as his son struggles out of his coma. Stéphanie has called Ali to ask only about Sam but, overwhelmed with emotion, Ali begs her not to hang up. We hear his tear-filled “I love you” uttered over a black screen and we are not granted the luxury of hearing Stéphanie’s response. Here Audiard separates this modern masterpiece from its Hollywood parallels, bringing the romantic journey to the brink but refusing to hold the audience’s hand all the way to the emotional

underlined, it is simply a natural point of arrival. Rust and Bone denies its viewer the traditional climactic union of its central pair. In the words of the great William Holden, we are never allowed to see “two highly paid heads come together for that ultimate, final, and inevitable, studio-rent paying, theatre-filling, popcorn-selling, kiss”. Stéphanie never runs into Ali’s arms amidst a marvellous rain storm like Audrey Hepburn, nor does Ryan Reynolds save her from deportation by asking her to marry him, she doesn’t even get to declare herself “just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking

finish line. This being the case, Audiard’s ending still does not deny us our sentimentality. He allows us a brief window into the happiness his characters find. Ali finds success in his boxing, Stéphanie finds new purpose as a member of the family, and Sam is finally safe. With this sequence Rust and Bone cements itself as a perfect blend of the values of both art and commercial cinemas. Audiard leads his audience to the happy ending they so long for, he simply takes a different route, dodging some of the expected landmarks so as to present a film that is as surprising as it is reliable.

NETFLIX GEMS TFR’s writers on watchlist worthy romances

Like Crazy (Drake Doremus, 2011) Samantha Mooney Love is not black and white in Drake Doremus’s Like Crazy. This film is more an exploration of love’s greyness. A blurry, in-between of loving or letting go is omnipresent and delivered with a natural reserve. Anna (Felicity Jones), a British student studying in California for a semester falls in love with Jacob (Anton Yelchin). Unwilling to be separated from him for two months Anna outstays her student visa and is returned to

the UK by immigration officials. Like Crazy is interesting in its attempt to capture a couple’s segue from the initial passion and excitement to the confusing and frustrating stage where life begins to get in the way and finally to eventual emotional stagnation. Like Crazy explores how love and relationships can sprawl into the undefined and gradually fade away. The voyeuristic style creates intimacy. The actors were given a plot outline then asked to improvise dialogue. This makes

the romance incredibly relatable. Moving back and forth between infatuation and unrequited affection, Anna and Jacob are trapped in romantic limbo. Months turn into years and strained attempts at communication serve no real purpose. Then comes the inevitable forays into seeing other people. Like Crazy is a refreshingly realistic, modern take on love and manoeuvring through its less cinematically celebrated grey areas.

Appropriate Behavior (Desiree Akhavan, 2014) Keelin Shaughnessy Appropriate Behavior is a romance in the sense that it focuses on a romantic relationship, between Brooklyn residents Shirin (Desiree Akhavan) and Maxine (Rebecca Henderson). But the film, both written and directed by Akhavan, pays less heed to the budding romance than its gradual disintegration. At every turn, Appropriate Behavior subverts the tropes of the New York rom-com to create a wholly original and raw look at love in the present day.

It eschews the idea that another person will make you complete, insisting instead on the betterment, understanding, and acceptance of self before the search for a partner. For Shirin, a bisexual Iranian-American still not out to her conservative parents, this self-acceptance is slowly found through a series of awkward hookups, strained social interactions, and ultimately her failed relationship with her girlfriend Maxine. Though Shirin is genuinely heartbroken by the breakup, with Akhavan delivering lines like

“I’m just going to lie here and try to forget what it felt like to be loved” in expert deadpan, it’s clear that she and Maxine were incompatible. As the film jumps back to the highs and lows of the relationship, it becomes obvious that this is not a relationship worth salvaging. Again, this is where the film triumphs. Through hilarious dialogue, a few cringe-inducing sex scenes, and a truly captivating performance by Akhavan, Appropriate Behavior masters the story of a woman fumbling on the road to self-discovery.

The Illusionist (Neil Burger, 2006) Rebecca Wynne-Walsh Neil Burger’s romantic mystery drama is one that remains criminally under-watched but never fear, as Netflix is, as usual, here to save the day and fulfill your movie watching needs. The Illusionist is set against the turbulent political backdrop of late-nineteenth century Vienna. The film follows a maverick magician, Eisenheim who attracts the unwanted attentions of the chief of police as well as the corrupt Crown Prince who aim to prevent Eisenheim’s reunion with

his childhood sweetheart. The sweetheart in question is known to Eisenheim lovingly as Sophie but to the rest of European aristocratic society she is the Duchess von Teschen, unhappily engaged to the cruel prince. The Illusionist benefits from a supreme list of performers, Edward Norton is the titular showman with Jessica Biel as his forbidden true love. Paul Giamatti and Rufus Sewell act as the chief of police and Crown Prince respectively, with Sewell proving himself yet again as the perfect casting for

any upper-class villain. The production value of this film is a love-letter in its own right, addressed to the art of breathtaking cinematography. The sepia tinged interiors and delicate presentation of the Austrian landscape combine to create an image that is, for want of a better word, truly romantic, a perfect combination of the cinematic and the painterly. The Illusionist is a masterclass in storytelling, filmmaking, acting and romancing, a hidden gem worth unearthing.

closer (mike nichols, 2004) Oisín Walsh Mike Nichols’ Closer is a dark look at modern romance. Yes the film opens with a typical meet-cute, but that is the first and final moment where it could be mistaken for a typical romance. What follows, across an unspecified amount of time are scenes of sadness, mixed with rage all fuelled with a desperation for love. At one point in this film all of the characters, Anna (Julia Roberts), Dan (Jude Law), Larry (Clive Owen) and Alice (Natalie Portman), will say ‘I Love You’. When it is said it never feels as it should, romantic.

The audience will not be filled with euphoria at the confession of love. Do they mean it when they admit their feelings to their significant other? Perhaps they think they do, but in this film (as in life), actions speak louder than words. They cheat and constantly argue and yet, always return to one another; their love lives are chaotic and not in the least romantic. This is a melodrama where the performances are fuelled with passion and fiery dialogue. Nichols does not flinch from the reality that these relationships present. Scenes are stitched together in rapid fashion so the drama unfolds quickly, rarely

allowing the audience relief from the action. The leads are brave in appearing as vulnerable as they do. All of the leads reveal themselves to be weak, indecisive, deceitful and downright nasty. No character is pretty; we can’t root for any of the relationships to succeed because these people deserve better than each other. These people should not be together, only they are unable to see, or at least they are unwilling to face, that reality. It may be tough, it may be racked with despair but it makes for one incredible film.

Dangerous Beauty (Marshall Herskovitz, 1998) Lauren Boland A woman, a man, a dowry; Dangerous Beauty begins as one anticipates a romance in the 1500s might: a young, working-class woman unable to marry the upper class man she loves. The 1998 biopic transcends genre and establishes itself as a powerful feminist narrative. Veronica Franco is an outspoken poet, living amongst the gondolas and courtesans that of 16th century Venice. Separated from the man she loves by social conventions,

Veronica rejects domesticity and embraces a different path as a financially independent courtesan. In her new role, Veronica captivates Venice with her wit and intellect and acquires considerable political power. She explores a new dynamic with her lost lover Marco where she is not subordinated as a wife or mistress, they stand as equals. This gorgeous story is a reclamation of sexuality and a scathing criticism of the virgin/whore dichotomy films often resort to. Dangerous Beauty is rooted in the visually stunning

16th century, but the its themes resonate in a modern context. It attacks the notion of virtuous abstinence and condemns double standards for how men and women approach sex. The film lambastes a society which confines women’s choices, condemning them for trying to carve the best life available to them. Dangerous Beauty subverts expectations. If you’re looking for a romance with depth, unexpected twists, and an inspiring female protagonist, this is the film for you.

Romance and Relationships in LGBT Cinema By Sophia McDonald Over the last decade or so, it is as if we have come into a golden era for LGBT film. Beginning with Brokeback Mountain and more recently, Moonlight, more and more stories are being told that have LGBT characters at the centre of them. As well as the representation carrying incredible weight for the LGBT community, awareness has been raised about multiple issues such as bullying, homophobic attacks and social exclusion. What stands out the most when LGBT characters are portrayed are the relationships that they have, especially romantic ones. This is where representation is so important. Whilst growing up and trying to figure out yourself, your consciousness gets flooded with stereotypical “girl next door” films. A hormone filled girl falling for the boy with perfect skin where they just so happen to have windows facing each other. Glances are stolen, they go to prom and then they kiss. You know the drill. This is inaccurate simply for the lack of acne between the pair but also, spoiler alert, not everyone is straight! To see someone on screen having the same feelings that you have is invaluable. To normalise that which has

been made taboo by so many reassures that you’re not doing wrong, that you’re not going against the grain of a piece of the wood of social norms. To find out that there was one director, one actor, even a whole team of people who agreed that this story needed to be told, a story that crosses paths with your own is overwhelming good. Although the LGBT section on Netflix has many a gay tale right at your fingertips, it can still be difficult to find representation that is romantically accurate. One that I came across was First Girl I Loved which follows two girls who become curious

about their sexuality and start exploring their queerness. It deals with the stigma that’s in the minds of teenagers when a gay relationship is added to the normal dramas of high school. It is not seen as normal which puts pressure on the girls to hide their true feelings. This theme of social exclusion is continued in the teen LGBT films, Handsome Devil and The Way He Looks. Although not as glamourous as the more typical coming of age films, they come very close to what it is like to be young and gay. Handsome Devil gives us a glimpse into just how horrible it can be to be

labelled as different. Although there isn’t any romantic relationship at the core of the film, you can see how the protagonist’s values are tested when “gay” is used as an insult against him for standing out. The friendship they form enables them to them to conquer the ridic ulously traditional mindset of “gay is bad”. Brazilian film The Way He Looks is a wholesome story about a blind boy’s relationship with the new boy who joins his class. Already held back by his disability, he is teased for being with his boyfriend. From watching these films, there is always an enemy, always a reason to watch over your shoulder, which unfortunately isn’t far from the reality of being within the LGBT community. What is also common within LGBT romantic films is the sexualisation of gay relationships which is particularly prevalent in Blue is the Warmest Colour. Renowned for being one of the most explicit lesbian films in recent times, the three hour epic follows the explosive relationship between two French girls as they go into the real world for the first time after leaving school. With multiple sexual

scenes that extend for five or ten minutes at a time, they seem to be the centrepiece of the film rather than the emotionally turbulent relationship. Scenes build to either fights or sex which shouldn’t be the base of a relationship, fictional or real. Whilst the exposure of lesbian relationships on screen is valued due to their rarity (look up LGBT films and 7/10 will be about white gay men), the lack of depth that these characters have can be disheartening. There seems to generally be less investment in making fully rounded LGBT romantic characters than their straight counterparts. There is always a difference in how it’s approached and how it’s treated even though the only difference is that the couple is what some people call unconventional. The trap that some film makers can fall into is following the stereotypes already established for LGBT characters from years previous. Usually a gay character is the antagonist, the “troubled one”, or the victim of the film usually ending up dead or bereaved by the death of their partner. These can be damaging for a young LGBT

audience to see as they try to find themselves within their fictional counterparts. They see many romantic endeavours on screen as hopeless or at the very least, strenuous. The importance of LGBT romances in film is not just for the representation for those within the community. It is also invaluable to have wider society exposed to LGBT culture. Little by little, there is progress being made to normalise and de-sexualise LGBT relationships on screen. Whilst in film it can become very dramatic and sexy all of a sudden, it isn’t a direct reflection of what gay relationships are like. What can be glossed over is the fact that those in the LGBT community are complex people who have issues that extend beyond sexuality. What can be said for the film industry and its complicated history with gay films is that there are gay, bi, trans, non-binary and other queer filmmakers and actors who are still striving to tell the stories that they see as significant. They want to have others know that they’re not alone and that romance can be just around the corner, something that will always be paramount.

ICONIC SHOT By Daniel Mc Farlane The iconic leg shot from The Graduate functions as a shorthand for the film. The shot has become a visual signifier for post-adolescent angst, the prologue to the looming sexual revolution and the disillusionment of the American Dream. The characters seek to commodify and romanticise their relationships. Benjamin Braddock

(Dustin Hoffmann) wants Elaine (Katherine Ross) as the ideal to his post-college woe, his parents want him as their trophy boy and everyone remains bewitched, bothered and bewildered with the figure of Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft). This iconic hotel room shot not only functions as a signifier for the changing mid-century

heterosexual power dynamics but also those of the characters. Cinematographer Robert Surtees visual composition is masterfully poetic throughout as Mike Nicholsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; thesis of domestic isolation is crystallised while Mrs. Robinson slings her tempestuous leg across the foreground. This fetishistic scopophilia through Nicholsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; all-knowing lens uses it to brand her character too as elusive and unattainable. Exhibiting a singular body-part to be consumed by both Benjamin and the audience functions as a deferral of character for Mrs. Robinson.

The Graduate

(Mike Nichols, 1967) Her power comes in all that she withholds, she will always remain aloof and untouchable. Within the background Benjamin’s preppy clothes and colour pallet contrast with Mrs. Robinson’s animalistic features, revealing Benjamin to be entirely naive and inexperienced in the affair he is about to embark on. He consistently disconnects from the roles his peers place him in. He cannot succeed academically, he cannot face suburban life and he cannot womanise his way through the narrative. This crisis of character is seen on his bewildered face

and concave stance. He cannot succumb to the temptation before him nor can continue to live in banality. The use of wide-angle lenses with the contemporaneous 2:35:1 aspect ratio underline the film’s distant, emotional tone. The characters are very rarely framed closely as the film is more preoccupied with the gulf of emotion between characters than the emotion itself. Benjamin will always exist on an ignorant plane within the background, Mrs. Robinson will consistently command attention within another. The middle-ground will perpetually

exist as the expansive and pristine tones of its mise-en-scéne which serve to not just reflect but entrap its characters. The space dividing them - affluent California - with its empty high ceilings, kitsch fixtures and deep swimming pools, propel the characters into a state of suburban inertia. A landscape of semi-existence which divides them. This exemplifies the film’s overall thesis on the breakdown of communication between people and by isolating each character within their own visual plane.

Since its 2004 release, Nick Cassavetes’ The Notebook has become the quintessential romantic film. Based on the novel by Nicholas Sparks, the film encompasses all the Sparks clichés that we’ve come to expect and love (or love to hate). There is the ill-fated love marked by separation, letters, illness, the triumph of the underdog and frolicking in the water. First of all, I do enjoy this film. The actors are compellingly charming, the settings are idyllic, and we’re all a bit partial to Ryan Gosling. The film is successful in its tear-jerking romantic ideals of everlasting love. However, for its interpretation of love, it is terribly overrated. The film opens with Duke reading to Allie, his wife, who is slowly losing her battle with dementia. From his notebook, he recounts the story of a couple falling madly in love, their separation and then their eventual reunion. As heart wrenching as this is to see, there are many aspects of The Notebook which I have an issue with, for instance, how the couple came to be in the first place. The film romanticises the idea that boys can “get the girl” through persistence and perseverance. When Noah (Ryan Gosling) first meets Allie (Rachel McAdams) he is so desperate for her to notice him that he hangs onto the rungs of a ferris wheel in order to get her attention. Despite warnings and being told he is endangering the lives of himself and others he threatens to let go if she does not accept his request of a date. Allie definitively refuses. “Alright, you leave me no other choice then,” he says and then lets one hand go from the rung, slowly beginning to slip. Once he has used enough emotional blackmail to get Allie to agree to go out with him, he resumes composure and is happy-go-lucky, Noah Calhoun again. Noah goes to these extremes throughout the film. Threatening suicide for a date with a girl is not romantic in any way. The Notebook seems to endorse, romanticise and encourage the idea that.

over RATED if a guy wants a girl he should have her. “I see something I like, I gotta have it,” is another line delivered by Noah. I believe Noah to be fanatical, while Allie is a passive character. It’s frustrating to see this woman portrayed as not knowing what she wants or what’s good for her, a backwards trope used in many a romantic film. It seems that Noah knows exactly what Allie needs and desires. Forcing himself into her life until he becomes all she can think about. Noah tells Allie that her problem is that she “doesn’t do what she wants,” and then he mocks her until she lies with him in the middle of the road. Despite her reluctance and repetition of the fact it’s silly and dangerous, she gives in. What exactly is this showing in terms of romance? Allie never seems to make a decision on any part of their relationship. It is her parents who incite a breakup, Noah who walks away from the relationship for being “too poor” and Allie’s mother who keeps them apart by hiding the 365 letters Noah writes to her. Despite all of the

The Notebook (Nick Cassavetes, 2004)

By Samantha Mooney fighting and the passionate embraces which follow, what else do we know of their relationship? Clichéd scenes of kissing in the rain aside, the majority of their time on screen is filled with arguments. During his romantic speech about wanting Allie forever, Noah tells her that “life will be hard, every day will take work,” to overcome the explosive arguments because that’s “what they do”. Are we supposed to believe that “we fight” is a romantic identifier of any loving couple? That doesn’t sound overly appealing to me. The level of abuse they throw at each other is ridiculous. The fact the film concludes each threat or abusive fight with an embrace of some sort gives incredibly unrealistic expectations of acceptable relationship behaviour. The Notebook is gravely overrated in its portrayal of realistic romance and love. If you can see past the fantasy you are greeted by plot holes and questions that make you second guess just how in love this couple truly are.

UNDER R A T E D By Ellen Pentony Robert Zemickis’ Allied – a story of love and betrayal set in the midst of WW2 - is not something that I would typically enjoy. I remember seeing the posters everywhere but it never crossed my mind to attend. Flash forward a year and a half, I am at home lazing about on my day off, with nothing better to do than scroll through Sky Movies’ typically mediocre collection of “premieres” that actually first hit the screen months ago. Once in awhile however, you come across a diamond in the rough. Allied must have done something right to have me, a big ol cynic, sobbing as the credits rolled. This reaction is due, in large part if not in its entirety, to the emotionally charged performances of lead actors – Marion Cotillard and Brad Pitt, here playing the ultimate star-crossed lovers, the spies Max and Marianne. Too often films are judged based solely off their critical merit, with the focus on whether the stories are original or the form is thought provoking. Allied is not the most groundbreaking or inventive film you’ll ever see, it’s far from it. But does that really matter when the film is entertaining? Visually, the film is stunning. Director Robert Zemeckis and cinematographer Don Burgess masterfully recreate 1940s Morocco within a less than subtle but nonetheless welcome homage to Casablanca. From the outset, this world is romanticised, full of lavish bars and elegant costumes. Allied is never really

concerned with the war itself, using setting as a backdrop to explore the personal complication s of war, and how times of massive public unrest intervene with daily life and relationships. The scenes in Morocco are split between Max and Marianne’s professional duties as undercover spies and their social, private lives with the latter becoming the crux of the film as their relationship blossoms. The period setting creates an air of escapism and possibility in which Max and Marianne – spies for different countries believe they can live in harmony despite the complications their profession may bring.

allied

(robert zemickis, 2016) The sensual, dreamlike world of Morocco, with its swirling golden sands and glowing white rooftops is quickly replaced by the grey suburbia. It is surprising that they are allowed to even make it out of Morocco together, given of London where the couple try to navigate their greatest challenge yet, their mundane “ordinary” life. Throughout the film there is a suggestion of the forbidden, a

sense that they cannot be together. That that uneasy feeling lingers. With the introduction of major conflict Pitt and Cotillard excel. Doubt and paranoia encroach and performances reach an exceptional level as they expertly conceal their characters’ truths creating genuine tension and suspense within an otherwise predictable plot structure. Brad Pitt is a criminally underappreciated ciated actor, which may sound strange given that he is one of the most famous men alive. But Pitt is known for his tumultuous relationships and good looks, not necessarily his excellent versatility which has seen him steal the show in Inglorious Basterds, Ocean’s Eleven, and Burn After Reading to name a few. In Allied, he delivers one of his most vulnerable performances, as he morphs from a cocky, suave secret service agent into a paranoid and anxious, lovelorn wreck. The characters, in particular the heroic, if naïve Pitt alongside the damaged and regretful, but always elegant, Cotillard are instantly likeable despite their flaws. Their chemistry generates an emotion which keeps you watching in the desperate hope that they will find a way to be together. While the concept is undoubtedly generic, Allied is underrated for the way in which the plot unfolds, managing to make the familiar feel exciting. In its tribute to the glam orous styling of classic Hollywood cinema, its set and costume design provide a visual treat while the excellent performances invigorate the beating heart of the film. Cotillard and Pitt are the perfect choices for a film that harks back to classical Hollywood. The pair are not only talented but truly stunning. They are a couple that you will not only root for but that you will simply enjoy looking at. Allied provides two hours of the ultimate cinematic indulgence and escapism.

ICONIC SCREEN COUPLES Sebastian & Mia, La La Land Whether you love it or hate it – or love to hate it, La La Land is one of the biggest films of the 21st Century. At the heart of its success is the chemistry between protagonists Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) and Mia (Emma Stone). The film is set in modern day L.A but features two characters who seem to prefer the 1940s lifestyle, both looking to fulfil their dreams. They meet, and fall instantly in love, dancing the night away in the Hollywood hills overlooking the glistening city lights. The film is sickly sweet, but Gosling and Stone’s chemistry eases much of the cringe factor. Gosling’s effortless charisma and Stone’s humourous performance make them a likeable couple whose coincidental meeting and oversimplified relationship is the quintessential classical Hollywood romance that many idealise and desire. Providing an updated version of the iconic duo that popularised the star system of Hollywood’s golden era, La La Land latches on to the romanticisation of the past, satisfying a modern audience’s obsession with vintage culture. The image of Mia and Sebastian tap dancing on top of the Hollywood hills is one of the most identifiable images of our contemporary cinematic era. In years to come, when a new generation are re-watching old movies, Gosling and Stone will be remembered as icons of this current cinematic moment. - Ellen Pentony

Kit & Holly, Badlands In Terence Malick’s classic noir crime film, Badlands, starring Martin Sheen as the charismatic rogue Kit Carruthers and Sissy Spacek as ingénue Holly Sargis, we find a timeless evocation of romance gone wrong. Against the gloomy and desolate backdrop of a stark South Dakota, an unlikely companionship is formed by maverick Kit and the naive Holly. The development of this romance is tarnished by Kit’s nihilistic tendencies, ultimately resulting in the murder of Holly’s father, a plethora of other senseless killings and a complete laceration of all ties that the couple once had with the civilised world. Initially, despite becoming a fugitive at a vulnerable and impressionable age, Holly perversely remains infatuated with the picaresque Kit even after witnessing the depraved actions for which he is responsible. Holly’s trite, platitudinous narration detailing her ephemeral affection for Kit throughout the film underscores the irony of the loveless situation in which they find themselves. Kit continues to cling onto an increasingly disenchanted Holly as his killing spree escalates, but eventually their romance expires. In a tragically emotive final sequence, Holly’s adolescent obsession seems to dissipate as she nonchalantly refuses to run any further with Kit from the law. As simply as that, devotion morphs into indifference at a crucial moment for Kit. Oh, how fickle romance can be. - Patrick O’Donoghue

Christian & Satine, Moulin Rouge! If there was ever a filmmaker who truly understood, no, truly revelled in unabashed, unashamed, unbridled romance, it is Baz Luhrmann. The Australian auteur has never been more on his game than with Moulin Rouge!’s central pair. Christian’s affable charm and endearing idealism is performed with ease by Ewan McGregor opposite Nicole Kidman’s Satine who manages to be at once the fiery courtesan and still the heartbroken innocent. Even Luhrmann’s adaptation of the most iconic of all romances, Romeo + Juliet cannot compete with the sheer movie magic created by Christian and Satine’s poignant solo ballads and powerfully emotive duets. The trajectory of this iconic couple moves from heart-warming to heart-breaking in a whirlwind emotional and musical rollercoaster. As is so often the case in Luhrmann’s work, this couple has a mantra, Christian and Satine consistently repeat to each other that “the greatest thing you will ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return”. This message is simultaneously simple and complex, its repetition allows the love between Christian and Satine to overcome all the obstacles in their way, even death. This pair spend the film fighting for freedom, beauty, truth and love, a battle they win with each repeated viewing of Luhrmann’s modern musical classic.- Rebecca Wynne-Walsh

Nick Offerman & Megan Mullally When thinking of famous Hollywood couples, many people may think of the romances of Taylor and Burton or more recently Brad and Angelina (R.I.P Brangelina). These couples are no strangers to the big screen, often acting opposite one another. However, the silver screen is home to the couple I believe to have the truest romance of them all, Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally. Both are accomplished actors who made names for themselves on sitcoms. Mullally starred as scene stealer, Karen Walker on Will and Grace, whilst Offerman’s breakout role of Ron Swanson on Parks and Recreation cemented him as a fan favourite. They have both had guest starring roles on the others shows throughout the years, but it is their real life relationship that is the most romantic of all. Offerman and Mullally met working on a play in 2000. Offerman says there was an instant spark. Mullally was hesitant to pursue a relationship due to their age difference (she is 11 years his senior). Nick did not give up, eventually the couple could no longer stand being apart and began dating. Nick proposed 18 months later, and the pair married in 2003 during a small secret ceremony at their home. Their guests arrived, believing they were attending a pre-Emmys party, but upon arrival they discovered it to be their wedding. They have now been together 17 years, and if their tweets are anything to go by their passion has not depleted. After almost two decades, they continue to adore one another. They even share an email address. If that’s not modern love, what is? - Jessica Egan

Katherine Hepburn & Spencer Tracy, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner On screen, they shared nine feature films together and off they spent 26 years of their lives with one another, it was only death which parted them. Hepburn and Tracy was a legendary relationship of Hollywood’s Golden Age. They were never married and kept the affair private until Tracy’s death in 1967. Tracy was married in 1923 and never divorced his wife but they separated in the 1940s and lived their lives separately until his death. One of the couple’s key films is Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, where they played a married couple. The film deals with the issue of inter-racial marriage, in this case between their daughter, Joey (Katharine Houghton) and her fiancé, John (Sidney Poitier) a young doctor. The film is a remarkable testament to the decades old relationship between Hepburn and Tracy. At this stage Tracy’s health was deteriorating and Hepburn had taken a five year break in her career care for him, ending it with this last on screen pairing. When they were cast, she insured that Tracy’s schedule would give him plenty of breaks and days off shooting to manage his well-being. Many assumed he would be unable to complete the shoot. In Tracy’s final soliloquy, he delivers a speech about the eternal nature of love. Hepburn’s character begins to cry, a reaction she claimed was genuine for she knew this would be her partner’s last film and their time together was coming to an end. Tracy completed the shoot but died 17 days later. He never saw the completed feature. Nor did Hepburn, she felt the memories of her life partner would make the viewing too painful for her to endure. Hepburn never sought a marriage proposal from Tracy nor expected him to take divorce action, they were happy to spend their lives together, in private as they did. - Oisín Walsh

Harold & Maude, Harold and Maude Harold is a nineteen-year-old morose obsessed with death. Maude is a joyfully anarchistic seventy-nine-year-old whose enthusiasm for life is electric. They meet at a funeral and their relationship begins. Harold and Maude may a particularly unlikely pairing, but their relationship is tender and believable. Underneath the offbeat dark humour they are simply two people falling in love. The couple move to their own rhythm and chase their own obsessions, discussing life and love and all that’s to come. They dance, sing and swap secrets. They are refreshing to watch. Their romance is emotionally consistent, weaving such a whimsical spell that you can accept the truth in it and root for their happiness. They are serenely untroubled by what others may make of their relationship, despite the considerable age difference. They are only in each other’s lives for a brief few months, but measuring true love by the amount of time you spend in a relationship can be superfluous. Harold and Maude are two people who found each other just when they needed too. Harold’s company gives Maude even more zest for life, while Maude pushes Harold to let go of his inhibitions and embrace the love and beauty around him, “I love you Maude”, “Oh, that’s wonderful Harold! Now…Go and love some more.”- Samantha Mooney

Audrey and Bill “Once upon a time, on the north shore of Long Island, some thirty miles from New York, there lived a small girl on a large estate,” with these words, the unmistakeable voice of screen goddess Audrey Hepburn narrates the opening frames of Billy Wilder’s Sabrina. Sabrina, a retelling of the classic Cinderella story, spiralled into as much of a fairytale romance offscreen as it was on. This is because the set of Sabrina would be the place where two soulmates would meet, embark on a whirlwind romance and ultimately, as is the case with all of the deepest romances, they would break each other’s hearts. Penelope Cruz’ fiery screen siren of Vicky Christina Barcelona repeatedly insisted that “only unfulfilled love can be romantic”. There is infinite wisdom and unfortunate truth in her words, words that have great resonance in the story of Audrey Hepburn and William Holden.

The secret romance of classic Hollywood’s biggest stars. By Rebecca Wynne-Walsh

Their love story is one that is criminally under-told, there is nothing more heartbreaking than soulmates, destined to find each other but doomed to separate. These legends of Hollywood’s golden age found each other on the set of Wilder’s film and proceeded to fall madly in love. Though their romance turned out to be one better suited to the land of dreams than that of reality, they did make one more film together, almost ten years on from their initial meeting at the very start of Hepburn’s Hollywood career. The year is 1953, Hepburn fresh off the resounding success of Roman Holiday has captured the hearts of both Hollywood and the world. For all her success, it is no secret that all she truly wanted was to capture the heart of one

man, his identity as yet unknown, and to build a happy and stable family life with him. Audrey Hepburn’s greatest dream was to realise the normalcy, the affection and the family connection she was denied growing up in war-torn Europe. Until that dream came true however, she would continue her role as Hollywood’s elegant, stylish and spritely fixture of the silver screen. Billy Wilder knew she would be the perfect lead in his latest project. Sabrina follows its title character, a chauffeur’s daughter for a wealthy Long Island family, through the trials of becoming a woman, finding love and finding herself. Hepburn would have two love interests in the film. The serious and hard-working older brother and the energetic, playboy younger brother. The siblings

were played by Humphrey Bogart and William Holden respectively. By this time Bogart was already a steadfast Hollywood legend but he was, much to his outspoken annoyance, unequivocally outshone by the chemistry between his co-stars. William Holden, or as he was known to most, Bill, was at the peak of his career at the time of Sabrina’s production. Fresh off the massive successes of Sunset Boulevard, Born Yesterday, and Stalag 17 Holden was one of if not the most desirable leading man Hollywood had to offer. He was known as the “Golden Boy” for his easy charm, classic good looks and endearing humour. Though married, Holden had a reputation as a committed womaniser, apparently with his wife’s unspoken knowledge. The arrangement Holden had with his wife worked because, although he had his dalliances, he was never at risk of leaving her, that is, until he met Audrey. The pair fell head over heels for each other so quickly it was almost love at first sight. They provided each other with a new lease of life and began to spend every spare moment together. They indulged in long drives or walks in secluded parks. A repeated haunt of theirs was Lucy’s El Adobe Mexican restaurant in Los Angeles, favoured for its apparently excellent food but for its well-known darkened alcoves, the perfect spot for two young lovers to hide in

plain sight. All seemed to be going exactly to plan, Hollywood’s hottest property were about to become its biggest power couple. With Holden on the cusp of finally divorcing his wife (something he would follow through on regardless), the fairytale romance came to a resounding halt with one very important revelation. One romantic night in a Los Angeles park, Audrey playfully showing off her ballet skills to her beloved Bill as he lay on the moonlit grass acted as a prologue to the pair’s in-depth conversation about their future. Though they had had this conversation many times before, this time it was different, everything was becoming real. As Audrey waxed lyrical about the family they would have, Bill could stay silent no longer. Holden, already a father of

three, had undergone a vasectomy. He was the love of her life, but he would never be able to give her the life she dreamed of, he couldn’t, wouldn’t have any more children. He had not been able to tell her up until this very moment, knowing in his heart of hearts that she would not relinquish her dream of becoming a mother. The truth had, as he expected, shattered his fantasy of spending the rest of his life with Audrey Hepburn. Reality, as it so often does, got in the way of romance. Hepburn knew what she wanted, she had always known, and despite her naive, almost childlike screen persona she was a determined woman and felt deeply that no one man could be worth her giving up everything else. She called off their affair, shattering the two hearts involved. Both went on to have incredibly fruitful and iconic careers. Hepburn will forever be remembered for her roles in Funny Face, The Nun’s Story, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and My Fair Lady. She even went on to marry a couple of times and, despite her health problems, finally managed to have not one but two children. Holden starred in such classics as Love is a Many Splendored Thing, The Bridge on the River Kwai, The Wild Bunch, and Network. But, by the time lingering contractual obligations surfaced and Paramount re-called Hepburn Holden to make one more picture together it was clear that Hepburn had

handled the lost romance far better than he. On the set of Paris When it Sizzles, almost 10 years after their initial meeting, this time Audrey was the married party. Holden had assumed they would rekindle their old flame but Hepburn was determined to keep him at arm’s length. She knew they could not be together, she also knew her heart would not survive losing him again. It was soon

apparent to her that Holden’s heart had not even survived the first break. Holden and Hepburn’s last tango in Paris was coloured by his self-destructive spiral into alcoholism. Despite Audrey’s attempts to help. While he grew to manage his addiction, he never overcame it and eventually it killed him. In a gruesome death, Holden was found in a pool of his own blood having drunkenly slipped and cracked his head

open. He was alone, his body was found four days later. In accordance with Holden’s easy-going and nonchalant personality, no funeral service was held, he never liked big scenes. Hepburn’s friends and family all noted her life-long affection for Holden, she would never experience another love like theirs, neither did he.

Thor: Ragnarok Review by Caolainn Daly Thor: Ragnarok is a tightly manufactured blend of comedy that peculiarly, being set as far away from earth as universally possible, finds itself feeling perfectly at home. It deftly balances crisis with jubilation, sentimentality with wit and ultimately offers a superhero film that is more fun than anything that has preceded it. The film concerns itself

with a myriad of problems. The reveal at the end of The Dark World is yet to be addressed or resolved. Thor (Chris Hemsworth) has recurring dreams of a fire giant by the name of Surtur who is destined to destroy Asgard in the event known as Ragnarok. Thorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s exiled sister, Hela (Kate Blanchett), goddess of death, makes grounds to claiming Asgard

as the rightful heir to the throne. This spiral of events finds Thor on a mysterious dystopian world known as Sakaar, ruled by Jeff Goldblum. His character has a name but his performance is so distinctly and loveably Goldblumy that what separates him from his character is difficult to decipher. Director Taika Waititi (of What We Do in the Shadows fame) offers up a performance of his own as an incredibly good-natured and softly spoken rock monster named Korg, who often assumes the role of the comic relief character in a film

laden with comic relief. Waititi is mischievous in his direction, ambitious and very very funny. He allows the entire cast to shine. Hemsworth offers up a charismatic and witty lead performance which displays his talents not only as an actor but as a comedian. Blanchett is given free reign to lapse from her menacing performance to trade blows with the best of them without losing the presence needed of a film’s villain to inspire dramatic urgency and necessity. Hemsworth and Ruffalo team up to create a very unlikely bromance that keeps the spirit of

the middle act buoyant. The script is tight and full of gall, subverting genre tropes and being very deliberately self-aware, but never in a gratuitous way. Moments of sentimentality are cut short, moments of heaviness are interrupted and this form is maintained right until the end. It fully commits to its mission. Epitomising this is the duality of the setting. While Planet Hulk offers a tremendous canvas for the bulk of the film’s antics, Asgard is falling and near its end. At times the film feels like it serves as fodder for its comedy

and overshadows its actual identity, but this doesn’t happen enough to disrupt the film’s main concern, and when it does happen the payoff is good enough that it can be forgiven. The blend of pathos and humour on the whole is deftly executed, and most importantly does not prevent itself from identifiably being Thor’s film, and his quest to save his home from destruction. Thor: Ragnarok is a romp and a half that will entertain with its gallant script, exquisite cast and most importantly its sheer sense of revelry.

BRAWL IN CELL BLOCK 99 Review by Paul Dunne Brawl in Cell Block 99 is a shocking film, in many ways. The film opens with Bradley Thomas’s (Vince Vaughn) life falling apart before his eyes. However, writer-director S. Craig Zahler avoids the glamorisation and dramatization of these events, letting Vaughn’s stoic yet stirred performance shine through. The astonishingly slow-paced first act eventually stumbles into the crux of the action and the film’s title. Bradley’s ‘’man of principle’’ persona is put to the

test as he is blackmailed, leading to a series of violent encounters within prison. ‘Violent encounters’ is putting it nicely; what ensues for roughlyover half of the runtime is excellent fight choreography, Bradley’s mixture of intelligent resourcefulness and raw power, and some of the most disturbing viscera I’ve ever seen on screen. I thought years of violent video games and horror films had numbed my experience of traumatic events to a certain extent, but Brawl in

Cell Block 99 managed to unlock my insensitivity. Zahler constructs his film excellently for the most part, I have an issue with his focus on diegetic songs that are meant to have thematic or textual value but never deliver meaningfully. However, the juxtaposition of sluggish expository scenes with hyper-violent action is extremely effective. The usual stuffy atmosphere of press screenings was burst through with shock, disgust, and audible squeamishness. Zahler’s

pacing is near-perfect, lulling the audience into expectations of emotional drama until punching us in the gut with gore. Vaughn’s performance is outstanding in all aspects of his character, he channels the integrity of a family man pushed beyond his limits and then delivers the intense physicality the role demanded. Vaughn brawls with the best of them and exposes an aspect to his acting I did not think he was capable of. The supporting cast deliver as much as they can, with flat archetypes and matching dialogue ultimately serving to buffer Vaughn’s performance. However, this choice works in my opinion as Vaughn shines despite my doubts due to his previous forays into dramatic roles. It’s a welcome surprise to watch and enjoy Vaughn’s dry wit contrasted with explosive altercations. Brawl in Cell Block 99 is a unique film. While I would attribute elements of it to the genres of action, thriller, and crime, it defies most of the expectations that those genres carry. If you can stomach shocking violence and want to see something different, with Vince Vaughn at his best, then this film warrants viewing.

”Zahler’s pacing is near-perfect, lulling the audience into expectations of emotional drama until punching us in the gut with gore.” 25

I AM NOT A WITCH Review by Siomha McQuinn Although it is fitting that a film with ‘witch’ in the title should be released in October, the delights found in I Am Not A Witch are gained from deadpan, satirical humour as opposed to supernatural, spooky spectacles. In Rungano Nyoni’s debut feature film the presence of a young, unidentified girl (Maggie Mulubwa) causes so much unrest in a small Zambian village that she is branded as a witch. As such she is moved to a witch camp filled with older women who do manual labour while tethered to spools with ribbon. They live this way because their alternative is to

turn into a goat. The ‘witch es’ name her Shula and with her new-found identity she encounters what it means to be in cahoots with the spirits while reconciling this power with her status as a little girl. I Am Not A Witch juxtaposes life in a Zambian village with Western society, often in very humorous ways. For example the costuming goes from one extreme to another. In the beginning Shula innocently wears a t-shirt with ‘#bootycall’ printed on it while later she is publicly paraded around in elaborate ‘witch’ attire to disguise the fact that she is simply a little girl. This suggests that

there is a reluctance within both societies to allow women and girls to define themselves. In the first scene the camera situates the audience with a group of tourists in a van which pulls up to a fenced off area, behind which a group of older women sit stoically. The tourists ask questions and display a polite curiosity while they treat the women like zoo animals. The observational style of this sequence is soon discarded for a more intimate look at the kind of society which produces this form of attraction. After the film’s titles the women, now exhibiting

frenzied behaviour, are framed in a close up suggesting that there is more than meets the eye with these women and this society. The premise of the film is reminiscent of Yorgos Lanthimosâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; The Lobster which similarly deals with the threat l

of turning into an animaat the failure to conform to societyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s expectations and this is not where the comparison ends. Both films, each having appeared at Cannes Film Festival, are similar in tone. I Am Not A Witch is funny and absurd

while simultaneously being understated and pensive. Like The Lobster it is a film that will appeal to an audience who are looking for a the credits. cinematic experience outside of the norm and is likely to stick with the viewer after.

The Death of Stalin Review by Dara McWade Armando Iannucci, creator of The Thick of It and Veep, is known for a very specific kind of political comedy. His characters are vain, narcissistic and quick to insult, each trying to stay on top of their individual political piles. In The Death of Stalin, on which Iannucci serves as co-writer and director, he transfers this cynical style of politics to Soviet Russia, a land in which backstabbings went beyond a damning press release or a demotion and more often than not could be quite literal. An ensemble cast of British and American actors play a group of Soviet politicians, soldiers and proletariat, most keeping their natural accents and speaking

in English - a pointed jab in it’s own way. Jeffrey Tambor, Steve Buscemi and Simon Russel Beale lead the cast as members of Stalin’s inner circle. Tambor as Stalin’s deputy Malenkov, Buscemi as Khruschev, future Premiere, and Beale as Lavrentiy Beria, head of the secret police. While the historical accuracy of the film may be lacking, painting the political manoeuvrings of the cabinet in a darkly humorous light a character once questions how Khruschev can “both run and plot at the same time” - the film successfully paints the era as a farcical tragedy, with the lives of hundreds, even thousands, decided by the inept political elite’s machinations.

The humour is pitch black, which may turn some viewers away. Lists of “political enemies” that are to be killed, and the manner in which they are to be killed, are presented as ironic contrast to the political forces that enforce those deaths. Scenes of people being rounded up and taken away are presented opposite scenes where those that order these movements are making jokes about peeing. The film inspires anger as much as it does laughter, anger at the viscous fools who somehow controlled the fate of millions. The decision to let the actors keep their native accents adds an extra level of pastiche

“While the historical accuracy of the film may be lacking, painting the political manoeuvrings of the cabinet in a darkly humorous light ... the film successfully paints the era as a farcical tragedy, with the lives of hundreds, even thousands, decided by the inept political elite’s machinations.” to the entire affair, with certain characters picking up elements of film archetypes. Jason Issac’s Military General comes with a working class English accent and the live-wire attitude of a Guy Ritchie crime boss, Michael Palin brings his affable, genteel, vaguely idiotic English upper-crustman act, and Rupert Friend plays Stalin’s son like a spoiled rich child whose alcoholism flunked him out of Oxford - and yet the film never fails to remind us how these characters got here in the first place. They all have blood on their hands, each of them responsible in some way for the continuing existence of the beaurecratic nightmare of the Soviet state. Much

like today, the political dystopia of 1950’s Russia is obsessed with the obfuscation of the truth. They lie to each other, hoard evidence of their compatriots wrong-doings while smiling at their faces, try to pin blame for one accident or another on colleagues that did nothing wrong, and threatening others just to have a perfect crystal clear image in which to present the public. A long running gag through the film has Tambor’s deputy attempting to find a little girl who once took a famous photo with Stalin: he says no to the alternatives his secret service find; he says no to the actual little girl when they eventually find her; he says she is too old.

Eventually they find a girl who looks the same as the original, but after all this he doesn’t even get a chance to take the photo. This film doesn’t work because of the hilarious dissonance between the modern, western characters and dialogue, and the decidedly Russian 1950’s setting. No, this film works because in this, it suggests that the world we live in, the one obsessed with optics, with political demagogues and the embrace of leaders who do us harm is not that different from the one shown on screen. Of course, in 1950’s Russia, I could be shot for saying that, so thankfully not everything is the same.