film report: Tenet

Christopher Nolan is one of the few living directors whose films I will try to see at the cinema, much as I hate: a) spending money on anything, and b) leaving my cell. In Covidemia I no longer need to go anywhere, since everything is now illegal, and so I streamed it, which is of course not illegal at all. Watching Tenet on my laptop was very different to a typical cinema outing: I ended up watching it staggered over three evenings as my energy is greatly depleted by my pointless, dispiriting, badly-paid labour, leaving me little concentration for films or books; however, I was able to find a version with subtitles for the first 2 evenings, which proved invaluable – for the last session I was doomed to watch it without subs and frequently understood nothing, not even what language they were speaking. 

The unclear audio irritates, in moderation; by the third evening I’d given up on understanding or really liking the film and was watching out of pure bloodymindedness; I didn’t care how it ended, presuming that it would make no sense anyway. The film’s entire premise is “nothing will make sense, don’t even try to get it” and the almost inaudible dialogue is presumably part of that; either that, or Nolan is pushing for foreign language films by getting audiences used to subtitles. 

A shame, as the dialogue I understood via subtitles was often good, e.g. the unnamed protagonist holding a gun to an Indian arms dealer’s head, inquiring about a type of ammunition:

Arms dealer: Why should I know who supplied it?

Protagonist: The combination of metals is unique to India, If it’s from India it’s from you.

Arms dealer: Fine assumption.

Protagonist: Deduction.

Arms dealer: Deduction then. Look, my friend. Guns are never conducive to a productive negotiation.

Protagonist: I’m not the man they send in to negotiate. Or the man they send to make deals. But I am the man people talk to.

The protagonist, played by John David Washington, is a black guy working I think for the CIA but unlike the real CIA he doesn’t assassinate conservative thinkers and overthrow democratically-elected governments during the day and kick back at night with child porn and cocaine; he seems to be some manner of CIA paramilitary who ends up investigating ammunition that is “inverted”, travelling backwards in time, and this opens a whole can of worms about time travel and the future reaching back into the past. After that it gets complicated.

In a sense it’s a temporal version of Inception’s complication, and I was happily resigned to not understanding everything. However, where Inception’s human element is comprehensible & interesting, I couldn’t fully engage with Tenet’s characters & motivation. 

The casting is one problem. It’s mostly good but just a little bit off. I thought Washington was a good actor and casting a negro in an otherwise white film works well – he stands out, like a black king on a board of white pieces. He has some great moments, e.g. when some Russian bodyguards are going to take him to a restaurant kitchen for a beatdown, Washington radiates contained rage and the desire to inflict violence; and when he glares, it’s not some hood thug’s belligerence, it’s rather the controlled intensity of the professional. He’s a likeable and fine actor, the problem is when the film becomes, as it were philosophical, he just looks like a typical actor (i.e. not very intelligent) trying to look intelligent. There’s a particularly flat scene between Washington and an Indian woman called Priya, where she’s trying to explain the film’s temporal dynamics, and neither character seem to really inhabit the concepts; it really just feels like they’re repeating their lines and trying to emote. Of course it is difficult for an actor – most of whom are dumb – to simulate that moment of intellectual comprehension, when as it were a mental landscape opens up before one; Jeremy Brett could do it reliably well as Sherlock Holmes

and William Peterson manages it in the classic “you’ve seen these tapes” scene in Manhunter. 

I didn’t feel that frisson of intellectual discovery & comprehension in Tenet, and I think it’s because of the casting – none of the actors could simulate real intelligence.

Another problem, as regards the human element, is the, I suppose, “love interest”, played by Elizabeth Debicki: she has a repellent coldness and self-satisfaction to her, so whenever anyone turned their back to her, I expected her to whip out a stiletto and attack like a shrieking Italian. She just looks like a snake, and indeed her character acts like one throughout. I often find Nolan’s female leads unlikeable at best, repulsive at worst. Debicki evinces a clear facial bifurcation, that is, one side of her face is doing something very different to the other:

Serial killer stuff. I found her not merely unlikeable but repellent; every time her character appeared all of my Psycho Woman alarms went off, which is probably due to Debicki, not the character or direction, at least judging from a quick Google Image search of her in other roles & public appearances.

The rest of the cast is however very good, Kenneth Branagh is meaty & horrifying as a Russian villain, who as a Russian villain should know better than to trust any woman played by Elizabeth Debicki; and Robert Pattinson of Twilight fame is superb, nervy, seedy, knowing, inhabiting various roles in one character.

The soundtrack (by  Ludwig Göransson) is also fitting, a weird syncopated rush as if time is folded upon itself in micro-packets of sequenced alteration.

The visuals, as ever with Nolan, are great, fantastical, unreal; his London is the London of most Hollywood films: clean, white, Georgian (in reality the city looks more like Mogadishu today). It’s a film one can really enjoy, I think so long as one knows what to enjoy: if I watch it again I’ll try to ignore Elizabeth Debicki’s repulsive face, and definitely have subtitles, and let my mind roam free over the fields of time and impossibility. 

film report: Contagion

I decided to while away the (remaining) time with 2011’s Contagion, directed by Steven Soderbergh. I knew almost nothing about it except the title and that it was something to do with a lethal disease, “well that sounds all right, if I’m going to die, choking on my own lung fluids,” I thought.

I ‘d forgotten Soderbergh’s style so was a bit wrongfooted when Matt Damon and Gwyneth Paltrow appear but then drift out of focus as she gets ill and looks like a crack whore. I even began to wonder if it really was Paltrow and Damon, as both look kind of, well, ordinary.

Anyway, there are lots of scenes of people touching things all over the world.

Some of these people then start sweating and looking ill.

Jude Law appears, sporting an odd English accent and a hat and tie:

this is, I suspect, an American’s idea of an Englishman.

Anyway, Paltrow dies like a dog.

Doctors tell Damon “she died” and he replies: “but we just had dinner” then looks at the doctors angrily, panting like a retard.

Then his kid dies. The kid is called Clark, what is it with Americans and their names.

Various vignettes of scientists in conference rooms.

Scientist exits a building, is intercepted by Jude Law, who is apparently a “blogger” whatever that is (it’s as if the writers are stuck in the late 90s).

Scientist: Get away from here, you’re not a doctor and you’re not a writer.

Jude Law: Yes I am, I’m a writer.

Scientist: Blogging is not writing. It’s graffiti with punctuation.

I suspect the writer/director were not being ironic here; that they actually think all real writers are published by mainstream firms, and if you can’t get published it’s because you’re just vermin of some kind.

The rest of the film is basically various scientists, played by famous actors, doing lab tests and trying to find a cure; the civilian aspect is mostly seen through Damon’s character as he realises that “people are only as good as the world allows them to be” (the Joker). He gets a gun. There’s a sense that the victims are actually trying to infect others, as a women tries to grab Damon and his daughter in a supermarket, screaming “help me!” – but it’s almost as if the only relief she can imagine is to share her death with others.

Meanwhile Jude Law’s character deliberately creates panic on Twitter, in order to peddle a homeopathic cure that doesn’t work. The benign governments and World Health Organisation officials and scientists work on a cure while trying to control the population; as one bureaucrat puts it, “we just need to make sure nobody knows, until everybody knows”

Of course the benign scientists and global bureaucrats find a cure at the end.

Overall, I found it an enjoyable film though the New World Order is a little rich for my palate: the heroes being Soros/Rothschild/etc-funded bureaucrats (having met some of these, I find them appallingly incompetent and ignorant, not to mention nauseatingly “progressive”), and Law’s character presumably a representative of every non-mainstream writer/creator.

I’m unsure if the film would really persuade anyone to trust the government and distrust independent researchers; but I suppose as propaganda, which it clearly is, it’s just one more little nudge in the direction desired by certain masters, certain parties.

It’s quite good as a film, however, and I enjoyed seeing Gwyneth Paltrow’s character die.

 

Miami Vice (TV): Season 1, Episode 1

Tubbs is sitting in a car in America, on a stake-out. Some gangbangers knock on his window, because this is America. Sheeeit, one of these cats got a switchblade. Not to be outdone, Tubbs pulls a sawn-off shotgun. Gangbangers retreat.

Crime boss emerges from house. Were I Tubbs, I would assume the gangbangers were running surveillance for crime boss.

Cut to nightclub. Tubbs pays negro waiter to spill drink on crime boss. I actually thought the waiter was Tubbs until I saw them in the same shot. Tubbs looks more mulatto than 100% negroid, probably got that 5 – 10% IQ boost because his grandmother laid with the white devil. He has a sensitive, violent look – classic Michael Mann protagonigger, I like him already.

Crime boss goes to toilet. Tubbs follows. Fight with bodyguards.

Boss escapes. Tubbs left impotent, helpless, unable to do his job because he is stupid.

Cue Miami Vice theme music.

Cut to Don Johnson with a paedo moustache, watching a negro dance on the corner. The guy from NYPD Blue appears and chats with Don; he doesn’t make enough money, says no woman of his should have to work, he wants to take his wife or whatever out for a romantic evening – right there, you know he’s going to die. Cut to the guy with some sleazy mofo talking about how he wants to sponsor a child or something.

Sleazy mofo takes nice NYPD guy to car. Car explodes. Both die.

Don Johnson visits ex-wife. She busts his balls. He explains his partner died. She busts his balls even more because she is a woman.

Well-dressed negro walks down street, gets in car. Car doesn’t have a roof for some reason. Johnson exploits this vulnerability to jump in the car, grab the negro’s fried chicken and throw it into the back. Johnson is wearing an incongruous peach jacket.

Some kind of drug deal, Tubbs and Johnson are both masquerading as drug dealers; they meet, neither presumably knowing the other is a cop. Local police appear and ruin everything. Tubbs steals Johnson’s boat. Johnson steals a car and is in hot pursuit, to the Miami Vice theme tune.

Johnson jumps into the boat and thumps Tubbs. Tubbs reveals he is a cop.

Johnson unhappy. Amusing line as he expostulates to his superior:

Two weeks! Two weeks of legwork I put in on this bust, and three-fourths of the dealers turn out to be cops! Me, Scottie Wheeler and Dr Voodoo here putting in a surprise guest appearance direct from Fun City! […] My badge says Miami but lately it’s looking a lot like Disney World!

Tubbs wakes Johnson up on his boat. Because Johnson lives on a boat like Duncan McLeod. Johnson, as a white man, does not appreciate a negro in the morning and punches Tubbs, then feels abashed and apologises. Tubbs punches him back: “couldn’t let you handle all that bad karma on your own.”

Tubbs does into the boat to get ice for the bruise, is chased out by an alligator called Elvis. Johnson chuckles, revelling in his white supremacy for only the white man can master the gator: “don’t mind him Elvis, he’s from New York.”

Romantic interlude. Crockett woos some woman thusly:

Maybe I’m getting too old for this line of work. Scraping by on four hours of sleep a day. Living undercover for weeks at a time. Dealer this week, outlaw biker the next. It’s Tuesday? I must be working drugs. Hell on the old nervous system, I’ll tell you.

Classic 80s burnt-out cop dialogue, woman helplessly spreads her legs for the Crockett dong.

Tubbs revealed to be brother of Tubbs, on a vengeance mission against a greaser Cartel boss. Complicated. Crockett unhappy at the news, throws an American football about his own boat, probably breaking his own possessions.

Tubbs in an alleyway for some reason, a tranny appears and tries to shoot him but Crockett appears in a black Ferrari and tranny-assassin gets shot by Tubbs. Justice.

Crockett tracks down the corrupt cop who led the tranny-assassin onto Tubbs. The corrupt cop is a jovial Irishman who took a bullet for Crockett and seemed, thus, beyond reproach. However, like all Irish, he is untrustworthy and criminal. Crockett ends up trying to strangle him to death in his black Ferrari. Soulful scene as Crockett realises you can’t trust anyone, that in this Mannly world every Mann must stand alone and die alone. Just as Hamlet, after his mother married Claudius, begins to question every human relationship he ever took for granted, every truth he assumed, every value, so here – Crockett thinks, “if this guy was corrupt, who can I trust?”

Cut to Phil Collins’ ‘In The Air Tonight’ as Crockett and Tubbs drive a Ferrari down a dark road.

Crockett, heading down his own dark examination, calls his ex-wife:

“I need to know something, Caroline. The way we used to be together…I don’t mean lately, but before. It was real…wasn’t it?”

Just as Hamlet questions if Ophelia ever loved him, if his mother ever loved his father, if anything he knew was true, so here.

Big shoot out. Crockett & Tubbs deal death out with wanton abandon. Tubbs corners the greaser who killed his brother, is about to execute him when the white man appears as the voice of reason: “Tubbs. Not like this.”

Greaser escapes.  The end.

All in all, a great great pilot episode.