(1992, Ire, 91 min) Dir Fintan O’Driscoll. Cast Stephen Rea, Colm Meaney.
Bluff, bolshie Pat (Rea) and quiet, thoughtful Michael (Meaney) are peat cutters in the West of Ireland beginning another day’s shift in the bleak midwinter morning, the uniformity of the grey sky overhead mirrored by the open vastness of the bog around them. Their day is only just begun when Michael turns over a sod to find the leathered face of a long dead bog person within. As there’s nothing they can do with the body until they’re picked up at the end of their shift they leave it in the ground where they found it and go back to their work. Pat laughs off their find but Michael seems shaken by it and takes to speculating about it. Then he starts to talk about a figure, just on the horizon, that Pat can’t see and Pat can’t laugh that off. A spooky little number that gives away little and uses its location, which is like a blasted void or like limbo, to its fullest with director O’Driscoll – who is best known in the theatre – showing a knack for image making alongside his expected strengths with the actors. It’s refreshing to see both leads playing against type too, apparently as a result of a last-minute switch the week before shoot started.
(1998, US, 119 min) Dir John Falco. Cast Peter Fonda, Edward Furlong, Steve Buscemi, Elliott Gould.
For about five minutes there at the tail end of the nineties John Falco was the Happy, Texas of film directors – much feted but little seen. Much like Happy, Texas he failed to live up to the hype but how could he have when The Duke of St Elizabeth’s was to be his introduction to the film world? It’s not a bad film, not by any stretch, but it’s a gentle, ambling comedy drama completely devoid of conflict and edge – it’s no Reservoir Dogs or Pi to be sure. Along with the previous year’s Ulee’s Gold (which was also much praised and little seen) this was supposed to seal the deal for Peter Fonda’s return to mainstream filmmaking but for a comeback the man seems curiously disengaged as burnt out rock legend Bob Stranger who has been in residence in St Elizabeth’s Rehabilitation Centre since 1983. It’s possible this alienation is intentional but I can’t say it works, especially as he’s supposed to be bonding with young speed freak Eddie (Furlong). The rest of the cast contribute well enough with Buscemi’s recovering coke addict and Gould’s tired psychiatrist coming out the best of a good bunch. Poor Falco though – he wasn’t even big enough in those fifteen minutes to warrant inclusion in the occasional ‘Where Are They Now?’ articles but seems to be doing well enough these days in the world of television.
(1968, Fr, 97 min) Dir Jean Anno. Cast Patrice Melaud, Sandy.
A very of its time wigged-out hippy film, shot in France’s arid Biscot valley with a soundtrack of droney jams provided by Parisian proto proggers, Le Mog. Hunky young Patrice Melaud is, like, totally stifled by his bourgeois existence in the suburbs where every apartment block is like a cage, man. Into his life comes the free, keen and mononymous Sandy who, with frequent nudity and skills with the flute, leads him out to the totally amazing commune where she lives. From then on its dreamy montage a go-go as the beautiful young couple frolic in the countryside with their lovely hippy chums. Of course it’s ’68 and beyond the screen are the May riots and Vietnam so the film has to end, like Bonnie and Clyde the year before and Easy Rider the year after, in blood and fire with the Man and his fascist storm trooper policemen raiding the commune and, like, totally killing everyone to bits while Le Mog wail doomily in the background. In case you hadn’t already guessed this is a very sixties film and your ability to enjoy it will depend very much on your tolerance for the wishy-washiest kind of hippy nonsense and while there are salvageable aspects to the likes of Zabriskie Point, Jean Anno is no Antonioni.
Imaginary Film Guide 