A World of Kino 44 | Titane, Batman, Chinatown, Melancholia & more

I have been extremely prolific in my movie watching this week, with 12 whole films to dig into! Even more new releases, another marathon, and a sumptuous new favourite right at the end.

Let’s begin the episode with a bang! I did a Batman marathon this week, of the classic quadrilogy.

Batman fights an assortment of supervillains in the twisted city of Gotham.

The first starts off so well, with a lovely dark aesthetic and glorious music by Elfman. But it does unfortunately keep decreasing in quality as it goes on, with the editing especially getting sloppier by the minute. Keaton is ok if a bit bland, but while Nicholson can be funny at times, he gives such a superficial performance of Joker that’s honestly too silly for my liking. As a whole, there’s such a tonal mismatch between the incredible Gotham set – which is actually Gothic for once – and the buffoonish behaviour of the characters, inside a plot that sadly takes its decent premise in a boringly generic route.

But the sequel is superior to the first in every way. Burton’s aesthetic has truly come into its own here, because the movie looks so beautiful in a dark, twisted way. Sure, the tone is still silly, but the behaviour of the characters somehow feels more appropriate and believable than the weird nonsense of Nicholson’s Joker and his goons. Keaton feels more comfortable in the role now, Walken is always a win, Devito is just such a huge bundle of grotesque fun, and Pfeiffer gives a shockingly phenomenal and emotional performance – seeing all of them being complete psychos is what I live for. The setting and narrative no longer feel at odds with each other, instead now supporting one another to craft a Batman movie that is wholly unique.

Sadly, that was the best this series ever got, because the next two plummet in quality. So much for the shockingly mature story Burton managed to tell so masterfully with Batman Returns, because Schumacher’s take is childish garbage on par with Power Rangers. Tommy Lee Jones’s Harvey Dent – who was already played much better by Billy Dee Williams in the first – is just an inferior copy of Jack Nicholson’s Joker, and Jim Carrey – who has always gotten on my nerves – gives quite possibly the most obnoxious performance of his career. Mix that in with a stupidly generic plot, a bland Batman by Val Kilmer, yet another shallow romance, and the most annoyingly goofy style, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. Every second of this nightmare was so painful to sit through.

Is there really a need to review this final one? We all already know this is among the worst movies ever made, but I was at least hoping for it to be entertaining in its awfulness. Naturally, it isn’t, as every second was agony. The weird thing is that I can see an attempt was made at thematic depth, but it comes across as so juvenile that it was just annoying. I suppose this is marginally better than Forever – if only because it has no Jim Carrey – but I still hated it.

This new release I have in store for you has me stumped. On the one hand, I can totally see why someone would give this 5 stars. On the other, I bloody hated it. Titane is a true enigma of a film, but I’ll try to deconstruct my thoughts as best I can.

A murderer disguises herself as the son of a fireman who has been missing for 10 years.

Titane, to me, seems like two films smashed together to make an oily and disgusting, yet dumbfoundingly beautiful mess. First is the story of a psycho woman on the run for mass murder, who is simultaneously giving birth to a car(?) for some inexplicable reason. The second story is about a man pretending a woman is his long lost son, in a very Frederic Bourdain The Imposter-esque way. I understand that Titane would not be Titane without both of these stories coalescing, as from what I could tell, the entire point of the film is about two utterly broken individuals trying to heal each other through their delusions. But I only enjoyed watching one of these stories (the second), as all of the gross weirdness of the first story kept losing my goodwill towards what I could so frustratingly recognise as a brilliant film.

An older movie now, though a lesser version of one of my favourite new releases of 2021. I give you David Lynch’s Dune.

In the year 10,191, the world is at war for control of the desert planet Dune—the only place where the time-travel substance ‘Spice’ can be found. But when one leader gives up control, it’s only so he can stage a coup with some unsavory characters.

The first time I tried watching this, I thought it was one of the most boringly dense things in existence, so wrote it off alongside most other people as simply a failed adaptation. Now I realise that the film is honestly not half bad. Far far far inferior to Villeneuve’s of course, but still a decent watch. At the very least, I wasn’t bored this time round. There are some pretty huge flaws however. Dune has such an incredible story, but Lynch just rushed through the whole thing, so that by the end you either have no clue what’s going, or no idea why you should care. There’s also such a distinct lack of critical reflection, as Lynch takes Paul’s rise to power at face value, never challenging the notion of an all-powerful saviour (which is the entire point of the book). And when he isn’t skipping past crucial plot points, he lets the film get bogged down in tedious exposition. Not to mention how poorly he handles the Fremen, which is a shame because the other political factions get much better treatment. Yet while I don’t think this film does the book justice, Lynch’s Dune is still a fun movie with its own kind of charm. The effects might be iffy, but the production design as a whole is surprisingly incredible. It’s clear Lynch had a real vision for what he wanted to create, even if he ultimately doesn’t have the competence to justify trying to surpass the limitations of the day.

An anime movie now, because what would Awok be without anime? Picking back up my watch of Satoshi Kon’s filmmography, I give you Tokyo Godfathers.

During a Christmas Eve in Tokyo, three homeless people discover an abandoned newborn while looking through the garbage. With only a handful of clues to the baby’s identity, the three misfits search the city to find its parents.

Satoshi Kon has such a wonderful style, as his characters always have the liveliest of personalities. They bicker constantly, but it’s endearing, especially when they work together to search for the abandoned baby’s parents. In turn, the three homeless folks each take the time to rediscover their own parents and reconcile with their demons. Fun hijinks ensue, amidst some sweet animation that’s beautiful in its simplicity and ambience. Perhaps he isn’t as adventurous here as he was with Paprika, or as engrossing as he was with Perfect Blue, but it’s still the most heartwarming story he’s done.

I don’t really get why this next film has been so polarising: Don’t Look Up.

Two low-level astronomers, upon discovering that a meteor will strike the Earth in six months, go on a media tour to try to warn the world… but find an unreceptive and unbelieving populace.

It might just be because I dig McKay’s sense of political humour (I did like Vice after all), but as a whole I thought Don’t Look Up was fine. It’s a great concept, and McKay brings out the absurdity of the whole thing quite well. Obviously, it’s nowhere near as deep as Von Trier’s Melancholia – his magnum opus that likewise explores the impending doom of the Earth – but there simply isn’t anything in here that I can pinpoint as faulty. Leo and JLaw were a lot of fun to watch, alongside Jonah Hill, Don Cheadle, Ron Perlman (who has the best scene), and even Meryl Streep (though only because of the after credits scene). I feel a lot of people have been unnecessarily imposing lenses onto the film (especially of the allegorical kind), when I don’t think it was ever McKay’s intention to make a particularly complex film – or even one that’s meant to elicit unending laughs. While I understand if people find the comedy obnoxious and the drama trite, I followed Don’t Look Up‘s simple but interesting premise to the very end with unfaltering engagement.

A film about abortion next, to keep you on your toes. But surprisingly, Vera Drake isn’t actually provocative.

Abortionist Vera Drake finds her beliefs and practices clash with the mores of 1950s Britain – a conflict that leads to tragedy for her family.

Going in, I thought I was going to hate this just because of the tetchy subject matter. But Mike Leigh explores it with such a lovely sensibility, that I couldn’t help but appreciate the entire thing, even if in principle I fall in disagreement. It’s probably helped by the fact that I love this cast so much – Nina Gold is definitely the GOAT of casting directors. Imelda Staunton is so sweet and unhateable as Vera, her performance becoming utterly heartbreaking as the narrative takes a turn for the worst (shocking how she played Umbridge so perfectly vile, when she’s this nice here). Although most have very brief appearances, supporting her is a wealth of Britain’s finest – Phil Davis, Daniel Mays, Eddie Marsan, Peter Wright, Jim Broadbent, Sally Hawkins, Chris O’Dowd, Lesley Sharpe, Vinette Robinson, and many more greats. This is a very British movie with no time for ornamentation, its candid style somehow winning me over despite my bias.

Chinatown: a film built off the back of a thousand inspirations and inspiring a myriad more. Watching many of the scenes in this gives such a peculiar feeling of deja vu, as they’ve been remade and transformed countless times, but Chinatown is still the best rendition of them. This film definitely deserves its reputation as a classic for the ages.

Private eye Jake Gittes lives off of the murky moral climate of sunbaked, pre-World War II Southern California. Hired by a beautiful socialite to investigate her husband’s extra-marital affair, Gittes is swept into a maelstrom of double dealings and deadly deceits, uncovering a web of personal and political scandals that come crashing together.

Chinatown is a film you can just sink right into. A screenplay brimming in secrets within secrets that reveal themselves time and time again in new lights; phenomenal directing from Polanski, crafting brilliant sequences that show their mastery in such a subtle way; and a wonderful atmosphere built up splendidly by Jerry Goldsmith’s sumptuous music. Fantastic lead performance from Jack Nicholson as the slick detective – I like him so much when he’s not acting crazy, so his performance in this is far and away one of his very best – alongside Faye Dunaway, who past her cold exterior is a deeply vulnerable woman subjugated by the nefarious system we know ultimately prevails. Everything comes together beautifully here, ending in such a shockingly callous manner that I just adored.

I had such a wonderful time watching this. Kenneth Branagh is one of my favourite directors (discounting his studio work), so it was a delight to experience what has to be his most personal project: Belfast.

Buddy is a young boy on the cusp of adolescence, whose life is filled with familial love, childhood hijinks, and a blossoming romance. Yet, with his beloved hometown caught up in increasing turmoil, his family faces a momentous choice: hope the conflict will pass or leave everything they know behind for a new life.

Belfast is a charming portrait of the city, during a time when it was being ravaged by The Troubles. But instead of entrenching itself in that climate that’s already been done to death, Branagh chooses to focuse on the idyllic world of children that’s still unspoilt by all the political rubbish, yet very much feeling encroached on as indicated by Colin Morgan’s character and the occasional riots on their doorstep. Buddy – in a phenomenal debut by Jude Hill – is given free reign to be a child: misbehaving but still minding his manners, studying hard to sit next to the girl he likes (played by David Tennant’s daughter!), playing rough with offscreen friends and chatting about his woes with his grandparents. While the ongoing drama is around whether the family will be forced to flee, life never ceases for the children even in the face of danger, which the entire cast give proper treatment to through their heartfelt performances. Not to mention how it’s suprisingly funny, the brilliant jokes only making the emotional beats that much more poignant.

I normally dislike social realist films, because they’re often so adamant in looking ugly. But Branagh has always been a director with a sense of grandeur, so even with something as low-key as this, he’s able to make the frame feel so big and the images look so beautiful. Even the use of black and white is clever, as he brings in touches of colour for when Buddy is awestruck by the world outside of Belfast – encompassed by the several times he visits the theatre and is hit by the power of film. The focus is as much on the small, interpersonal conflicts as it is in the vast, gorgeous space that a child has to grow in, which Branagh captures with a burning passion that I could so delightfully feel through the camera. While not my personal favourite, I think Belfast may be his most refined piece of art so far.

I mentioned this film in my Don’t Look Up review – how serendipitous! My favourite film of the week is Melancholia.

Two sisters find their already strained relationship challenged as a mysterious new planet threatens to collide with Earth.

Kirsten Dunst is wonderful here. The entire cast is – from Gainsbourg as the panicking sister, to the GOAT that is John Hurt, to even the two Skarsgards amusingly playing father and son – but Dunst in particular captured my heart. From her moments of genuine joy at the start, turned to forced smiles as the wedding shows itself to be a farce, before finally resigning herself to catatonic depression as the end of the world inevitably arrives. She seems to only be capable of finding happiness (or at least solace) when life doesn’t go according to plan – the limo gets stuck on the way to the wedding, her husband chokes on his drink while trying to cheer her up, or by embracing her complete solitude while naked in the dark – but these are fleeting reprieves that could never truly save her from the giant planet of melancholia hurtling towards her. 

Those waves of depression are inevitable, as the film literally begins with the two planets colliding amidst some of the most gorgeous photography I’ve ever seen – before colliding again at the end with one of the absolute best final shots in all of cinema. By knowing what’s to come and by being so stark in its depiction of the drama, all of those transient human emotions are suddenly put on a pedestal, with every tiny detail becoming the most important thing in the world. This in turn makes for a delightfully poignant film, masterfully blending the surreal premise with the almost too realistic fly-on-the-wall style of shooting, which acts in such stark contrast to when the film depicts the existential beauty of our doom, yet somehow manages to elevate the value of those precious shots to even greater heights. I adored just how unrestrained in its vision Melancholia is, because while it’s hardly a thrill ride, I was mesmerised throughout by its candidly sorrowful story.