“They need to taste fucking good” – Okja in the era of fast food films

2017
Writers: Jon Ronson, Bong Joon-Ho
Director: Bong Joon-Ho

I’ve just gotten back from a screening of Okja at Curzon Soho. It’s a South Korean/American production that’s being distributed by Netflix, appearing today on their website and only a few cinemas for a few days at most. It’s also an entirely eccentric, baffling and bizarre film which left me thrilled, delighted, disturbed and exhilarated in frankly equal measure. It’s one of those films which you can hardly believe got made, and made as beautifully as it was, and which frankly you’re glad for its existence, if only for the joy of watching something so darn strange. But that is what is to be expected from director Bong Joon-Ho, the bold visionary behind Memories of Murder, The Host, and Snowpiercer, one of my favourite films from the last few years.

Tilda Swinton is Lucy Mirando, the new CEO of an agricultural corporation with a damaged reputation following the tenure of her controversial father. She announces the company has discovered a new breed of superpig, and will send 26 piglets to different farmers around the world to see which one will raise the biggest pig. 10 years later, Mija (Ahn Seo-Hyun) lives on an isolated Korean mountain farm with her grandfather (Byun Hee-Bong) and her superpig Okja. One day, slightly deranged TV wildlife expert and Mirando corp spokesman Johnny Wilcox (Jake Gyllenhaal) arrives and declares Okja will be taken away to New York for the competition announcement. Mija tracks them down to Seoul, where she becomes involved with an extreme animal rights activist group called the Animal Liberation Front, who are determined to expose Mirando’s unethical practices.

Over two hours, Okja is a hell of a busy film. It takes a great number of risks and just about gets away with them. First and foremost, it’s a playful, almost cartoonish creature feature, an ode to family and friendship in the guise of a girl and her superpig. So much of this rests on the lead performance of Ahn who, often just through the subtlest gestures, is able to convey the depth of her relationship with Okja, which is only quickly introduced before the plot comes trampling into action. This also gives the film some semblance of an emotional core. Despite all the commotion, at its heart this is a surprisingly simple adventure story, albeit one that takes a lot of strange twists and misdirections along the way. An all-out slapstick chase scene through central Seoul has to be one of the most gleefully enjoyable things I’ve watched this year, but it’s one that does stand out as feeling a little out of place with the rest of the film – no more than a blistering setpiece for the director to flex his muscles with.

That’s because, secondly, Okja is a blistering satire of … all sorts of things really. The glitzy garish graphics at the very start of the film for Mirando’s new campaign hammer clear the film’s target of multinationals harnessing the artsy, quirky route to market dubious claims to millennial audiences – ‘homegrown’, ‘organic’, ‘ethical’, etc. As with many films on the edge of Hollywood, big business is the enemy, and Jon Ronson’s deliciously barbed script makes easy work in tearing apart the ridiculousness of their attempts to appear cool – from Swinton’s Mirando anxiously fearing how news footage of her security manhandling a young girl will affect stock prices, to the ridiculousness of their New York parade to market new meat.

But Ronson’s script takes pot shots at all number of other, sometimes easy, targets. Subtle it ain’t.O From the new wave crypto-animal lovers of the Animal Liberation Front, so vegan and anti-production that they debate the ethicacy of eating tomatoes, to the narcissism of society today, with numerous characters whipping  out inopportune selfie sticks, and Mirando’s range of practical work fashions. Beyond Mija and her grandfather, almost every character is an exaggerated caricature, none more so than Gyllenhaal’s hammy and quite extraordinary, almost drunken, performance as Johnny Wilcox – a past-his-prime squeaky-voiced TV nature presenter (and another narcissist) who has sold his soul to the Mirando corporation.

But these broad strokes have the desired effect – they are fiendishly funny. And so that’s why the film’s third major feature – its critique of global meat production and consumption – feels so deliberately jarring. The sudden shift to some genuinely troubling scenes depicting this affected me just as it was supposed to, and I really respect that the filmmakers and studio were brave enough to stick to their guns and include it. Okja could easily have been a kid-friendly adventure film, but these scenes push the film into new territory. It wouldn’t surprise me if this film does turn some viewers off meat-eating, though Okja does well to avoid turning into a lecture on the evils of the industriousness of the meat industry.

Each of these major features of Okja work tremendously well in themselves. It does mean that with Okja’s blistering pace, there are wild shifts in tone that pull the film in all manner of directions, and it has oh so many targets it wants to keep in its scope. Not to say there isn’t much to love and admire, from Bong’s impeccable directorial eye, to the beautiful production design, but this film is lacking some of the laser-sharp focus of something like Snowpiercer.

One quick point before I go – this is the film Netflix film production I’ve seen. It was actually quite odd seeing their logo pop up on the big screen. Anyone who kept up with Cannes this year will have been well aware of the debate raging over this film’s inclusion, given that strict laws in France will prevent it from ever being screened in cinemas. This is a film that very much deserves to be seen on a big screen (the fantastic cinematography by Darius Khondji and the astonishing CGI Okja herself are worth seeing properly) and for someone like me who congregates regularly at the church of the cinema, it seems a shame that most who see this film will simply watch it at home.

On the other hand, you have to give major props to Netflix. Offering total creative control, including allowing the more controversial slaughterhouse scenes, it’s no surprise Bong Joon-Ho was drawn to them (especially considering the infamous trouble he had with Harvey Weinstein over the editing of Snowpiercer). Also, as a $50 million movie, Okja is the sort of film which rarely exists today – the mid budget feature. When studios are only willing to either pump money into major tentpole franchises, or hedge small bets on low budget indies, there is something lacking these days that bigger budget creative films like this can offer.

Going All In: Spectre and the Legacy of Bond

2015
Writers: John Logan, Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, Jez Butterworth
Director: Sam Mendes

Other than perhaps the upcoming Star Wars sequel, the heady dread of anticipation hasn’t been higher this year than it has been for Bond 24, Spectre. Frankly, with the return of both Daniel Craig and director Sam Mendes, as well screenwriters John Logan, Neal Purvis and Robert Wade (plus Jez Butterworth this time), music by Thomas Newman and cinematography by Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar; Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy), it would be tragic if the film didn’t turn out good. Thankfully, it’s emerged pretty darn great, maybe not as accomplished as Skyfall, but still oodles of fun and a hella good action film.

Whilst Skyfall was a more character-driven, intimate (as much as Bond can be) revenge movie, Spectre is a massive, flamboyant and actually quite playful romp much more in line with films of Bond past. Mendes kicks off this lush stylish film with a super-scaled pre-credits sequence set in Mexico City on Day of the Dead, complete with giant skull parades and a cast of thousands. Surely the sign of a director in complete confidence and control of his material, the scene opens with a very impressive nearly 5 minute long take, coolly gliding through a carnival, up a lift several floors, out a window and across rooftops. Then what follows is probably the biggest opening sequence yet, complete with exploding buildings and a loop-the-looping helicopter, very much in the vein of the noisy vehicle stunts and close calls of the Pierce Brosnan era. It’s hugely enjoyable, and can’t help leave you wondering how the hell they’ll top it.

Bond’s antics in Mexico cause tension with new M (Ralph Fiennes), who dismisses Bond off active duty. M is under pressure from a competing new government security agency, the Joint Intelligence Service, led by slimy bureaucrat C (Andrew Scott), which is threatening the existence of the Double-O program. Working off a hunch, Bond ignores orders and embarks on his own investigations, which leads him on a direct path with the shady organisation SPECTRE.

What struck me most watching this is, after the more self-contained and self-conscious 21^st century films, Spectre is the first Craig film to really embrace what I consider to be the classic Bond film formula. Skyfall had plenty of neat little nods to Bond’s past antics, but Spectre is the film that really is identifiably Bond in character. There’s the luxurious globetrotting (including desert, ultramodern mountaintop clinic and an especially sumptuous-looking Rome); the return of the super-secret giant lair; the unspeaking henchman (Dave Bautista); quippy one-liners and nods-to-the-audience humour; increasingly outlandish stunts (example: a skiing wingless plane); and one of my personal favourites – the fight on the train. The film even opens with the iconic gunbarrel sequence, much to my delight.

These throwbacks to the past in my view, whilst mostly welcome, don’t always sit too comfortably with the more austere tone set by the last three films. The big car chase is intercut with several jokes which I couldn’t help finding distracting, and Craig’s performance, previously tense and somewhat tormented, is given less space to explore Bond’s failings, instead presenting him more as a determined soldier who is at times almost quite arch when he speaks lines. The inclusion of these more classic features is likely down to problems with the script, which clunkily struggles to link the various location-changes of Bond’s mystery solving beyond tenuous links and action setups to fill time. This is the longest Bond film yet, and there are times when it does feel it, despite the breathless nature of other scenes.

I did feel we get more glimpses of some of Bond’s other flaws, such as his alcoholism and at times his dismissive attitude to women. I’m not sure how I felt about Bond’s romance with Dr. Madeleine Swann, played perfectly by Lea Seydoux. It did seem a little more forced, especially when you think about how naturally it seemed to occur with Vesper Lynd in Casino Royale. But that’s not to dismiss Dr. Swann, who is an excellent engaging character who can hold her own against Bond and the villains, and who, unlike some previous Bond girls, is believable as an intelligent professional woman (I’m looking at you Dr. Christmas Jones).

On the other hand, I felt Monica Belluci was entirely wasted as Lucia Sciarra. Much was touted about her age, and her proclaiming herself as a “Bond woman” rather than girl, but we get practically no glimpses of this – she appears for probably no more than five minutes and is nothing more than a foil for Bond to pump information from. It’s somewhat similar to Teri Hatcher’s Paris Carver in Tomorrow Never Dies, but at least in that film her character had some personal resonance for both Bond and Jonathan Pryce’s villain.

On a better note, we get more from the dream team of M, Q (Ben Whishaw), Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) and Tanner (Rory Kinnear) – fine actors all, and standouts thanks to bigger roles and the chance to share some of the action with James. Most importantly, Christoph Waltz is fantastic as Franz Obenhauser, the head of SPECTRE, imbuing him with a genuine menace few previous villains ever could muster. His welcome decision to downplay theatrics with only the odd touch of camp helps make him a convincing counterpart to our hero.

What did leave me a little disappointed was the film’s approach to SPECTRE itself. What made the best villains of the more recent films work so well is that they speak to our modern fears of the unknown enemy. Danger now can come not from any known foreign government, but by any number of sources, from terrorist organisations to cybercriminals. At one point, M and C talk about the interplay of shadows and light, and about how many of the threats and much of the work to combat it remains in the shadows. SPECTRE could play into this perfectly, and we do indeed get glimpses into their work, mostly via news footage of disasters and reports during a shadowy Masonic meeting (probably my favourite scene in the film). Yet in time, SPECTRE’s reasoning for their current plot are overwhelmed by the personal vendetta of Obenhauser himself, which leads him to come across as extremely petty and diminishes the threat of SPECTRE’s plan. Attempts to link Bond’s past with SPECTRE are strained at best, and the very final setpiece of the film is underwhelming, simply because it favours the more personal battle between Bond and Obenhauser over the threat of SPECTRE.

What did strike me is how the goal of the villain has changed over time. As others have pointed out, this is the first post-Snowden Bond film. Whilst previous villains were seeking money (Thunderball, Goldfinger, Goldeneye), political chaos and war (The Spy Who Loved Me, You Only Live Twice, Tomorrow Never Dies) or simply global destruction (Moonraker), SPECTRE is now interested in data and information, represented within the film through the power of surveillance. It’s surprising how much a film this big takes a more liberal opposition to the notion of a super NSA-style program, This ties into the film’s multiple links with the past in valuing men on the ground, ones who can look the enemy in the eye and pull the trigger, over the potential of warfare from afar. This is perhaps one added reason why gadgets remain minimal, firstly because they don’t possess the exoticism they once did, and second because they can’t always provide the safety and support we expect from them.

Despite how critical this piece has sounded, I think I liked this film much more than a lot of people did. It unusually seems to have been better received by more critics than with a lot of the public. It’s definitely one of those movies where to enjoy it is to not think too much about it and simply savour the spectacle. It’s hardly the best Bond – both Casino Royale and Skyfall were much more successful films – but I’d say it looks set to be one of the better Bonds. I’m looking forward to watching it again.

A Sense8-tional review (if I do say so myself)

The world generally hasn’t been so kind to the Wachowskis as of late. 2012’s Cloud Atlas received some bitterly polarised reviews, with some general praise but plenty of harsh vitriol. This year’s Jupiter Ascending fared even worse, being near enough tore apart from by most critics. I haven’t seen Jupiter Ascending yet, but seeing the trailer and reading reviews, it seems a complete mess with some laughably bizarre and incomprehensible scenarios and a hilariously campy-looking performance by Eddie Redmayne – I’m actually quite looking forward to seeing it!

Cloud Atlas has gone on to become on the films from the last few years which I’ve become quite fond of. Upon first viewing, I’d enjoyed it and kept up with the sprawling plotlines, but felt a little underwhelmed with the sum of the all the parts, each separate story feeling a little lacking and building to no greater individual or overall meaning other than the idea that humanity and human life is interconnected. However, in the days after, I found I couldn’t stop thinking about it and could recall many scenes which had thrilled me or moved me. Watching it again a few months later, it was a much better film. A complex and challenging piece of epic spectacle which works hard to bear forth its very warm and human heart, it’s also a film which neatly merges indie and blockbuster sensibilities in a mixture of genuine ambition and originality with the budget and scale of something far more mainstream. The issues of pacing and underdevelopment still stand, but the film is never boring, seriously engaging, and should stand as an example of the ambitious blockbusters studios could and really should be making.

This rather wordy introduction brings us on to Sense8, the Wachowskis’ first foray into television, and a show that shares a lot of thematic ideas and concepts with Cloud Atlas. First off, I have to point out about it being on Netflix, which has already rapidly changed the way we define TV, not just simply because I haven’t watched any of their shows on an actual TV set. Netflix follows the model of greater creative freedom offered by advertising-free cable subscription services, but goes even further in offering programme-makers additional space for seasons of varied lengths, episodes of different lengths for the needs of different storylines and simple faith in allowing them to make near-enough whatever they want. All the shows I’ve seen so far (House of Cards, Daredevil, BoJack Horseman, Orange is the New Black) have benefited from this model and have created genuine cultural impacts beyond what most TV shows can muster. From what I’ve seen online, Sense8 hasn’t achieved anywhere near the heights of popularity as most of these shows, but it’s a show that has clearly taken advantage of Netflix’s freedoms to produce something which is, in a televisual sense, unlike anything that’s ever been made before.

Sense8 follows eight separate characters who are all suddenly mentally and emotionally linked. Will (Brian J. Smith), a Chicago cop struggling with father issues and haunted by an unsolved past case; Sun (Doona Bae), a Korean businesswoman supressed in her family’s male-dominated company who moonlights as an underground kickboxing star; Capheus (Aml Ameen), a Kenyan bus driver with an obsession for Jean Claude Van Damme movies who is working hard to look after his AIDS-afflicted mother; Riley (Tuppence Middleton), an Icelandic DJ living in London who gets caught up with dangerous people; Wolfgang (Max Riemelt), a German criminal plagued by the legacy of his late father; Nomi (Jamie Clayton), a trans woman and hacker living in San Francisco with her girlfriend; Lito (Miguel Angel Silvestre), a Mexican action movie star who is closeted and living secretly with his boyfriend and Kala (Tina Desai), a Mumbai-based pharmacist and devout Hindu engaged to a man she doesn’t love.

Viewers of Game of Thrones will be aware that television offers bountiful potential for shows stuffed with multiple plotlines, and it’s understandable why the programme-makers favoured this greater space for the density that is Sense8. The problem with this model, and the sheer freedom that has been offered to them, is that it takes a great deal of worldbuilding before it can really kick into gear. It’s not to say that the first few parts were ever boring, more that each took its sweet time introducing us necessarily to each character, alongside charming and quirky little details to try to situate each of them uniquely, like Capheus’s rivalry with another movie-themed bus service. Bear with it – it pays off to be patient with this show. Some plotlines pick up quicker than others, while some throw some bursts of action to keep things interesting. Similarly to Game of Thrones though, some character arcs can’t help but feel more unsubstantial and unengaging than others, especially when what is at stake for each of them can be drastically different. Wolfgang’s attempts to break into a safe, or Will’s adventures in a fairly generic police procedural setting dealing with gang warfare just stand out beyond Kala’s emotional meandering or Lito’s fears of being outed and his worry he won’t be considered for the action movie roles he likes. Sure, Rupert Everett says he had a harder time coming out, but come on! If Sense8 is to be believed, Lito has an uncanny ability to make women fawn over him helplessly, which is regularly declared as the sign of a good actor.

The biggest threat facing our heroes, the sensates, is a shady organisation hunting down others of their kind, led by a suave individual nicknamed Whispers (Terrence Mann). Why they’re so set on trapping these people, especially considering Whispers is another sensate, is… well, it’s never really explained; I suppose that’s something being left for season 2 (co-creator J. Michael Straczynski said there are hopes for up to five seasons). It’s Nomi who first encounters the organisation and as such, it instantly makes her storyline grip and standout, especially in the earlier episodes before things really pick up for the others.

Reading this back, this all comes across a lot more negative than I’m intending it to. Sure Sense8 has its flaws, but they don’t detract from many of the aspects that this show succeeds in, a lot of which to me seem pretty unique for television. First of all, its scale is genuinely impressive, with a team of directors including regular collaborators Tom Tykwer (Run Lola Run, Perfume) James McTeigue (V for Vendetta) and Dan Glass splitting directing duties across countries. None of them have lost their keen eye for constructing great action scenes, of which there are plenty in a range of cool contexts and unlike any really ever seen on TV before.

The programme-makers have to be commended for their choice to use this platform as a means to explore a range of personal themes which are often sidelined in more mainstream fare, including attitudes to fluidity in gender and sexuality, religious fundamentalism and differing politics of identity around the world. I’ve seen complaints online that the show is nothing more than homosexual propaganda, that it is an attempt to shove gender politics down collective throats. Whilst some aspects are highlighted more than the plot needs them to be, I still find it pretty remarkable that a now-major network is happy to give space to a show which preaches tolerance and respect of difference, and one which doesn’t shy away from issues such as character reactions to Nomi’s gender, or undercurrents of misogyny in business, here in Korea.

The interactions between the sensates provide some of the most affecting moments of this show, and the show uses some pretty novel approaches to visualise their linkages, such as shared conversations split between two locations neatly edited together (although this does lead on to one pet-peeve I have with films which this show commits which bothered me a bit, namely I hate it when foreign characters in films speak English rather than their own languages. Okay, English was needed here logically for the interactions to make sense across borders, but when whole scenes in Germany are done with characters speaking English, that does irritate me a bit. Alright, rant over now).

I felt characters were nicely developed, with some going on story arcs and having touching moments which I remember well, such as Kala’s childhood memory of seeing a vast religious procession through the eyes of a giant Ganesh float as her realisation of the importance of religion and of the beauty in the world. Later scenes where the sensates finally get to come together and help each other out in a big way also stick out – a chase scene where Nomi escapes from the police being a standout and being the closest the show gets to the setpiece standouts of the Wachowskis’ films. That said, at times in these bits, it can’t help feeling like characters often get reduced to their most prominent skills, only turning up at integral moments when needed, such as Sun providing all her kickboxing training for every fight scene, or Capheus’s experience driving.

But again, these are minor quibbles in a show which I enjoyed greatly, and which probably shouldn’t be questioned too pedantically. Kudos again to the programme-makers for being willing to take risks and go ahead with a show which they are obviously deeply passionate about. With just so many shows being made these days, I personally find it exciting to watch something which is obviously trying to take new approaches and cover new ground, and I imagine Sense8 will be a show which will only get bolder now it has taken its first steps.

Sin City: A Dame to Kill For

2014
Directors: Robert Rodriguez/Frank Miller
Writer: Frank Miller

The first Sin City film came out in June 2005, nine years ago. I was only 12 years old then, and had just finished my first year of secondary school. Looking at it that way seems pretty shocking to me; those nine years have encapsulated most of the more important events in my life. And in film terms too, that’s bizarrely long. I’m not totally aware of why there was such a delay, if it was scripting troubles or problems with producers or funding? It seems likely this gap was a major reason why this film seems to be failing at the box office. Me, on the other hand, I couldn’t wait! I was a huge fan of the original, having first seen it around 2008 and several more times since then, most recently last week. Rumours had been bubbling for several years, and when a trailer finally appeared, it looked fantastic. This truly looked like something to be seen on the big screen (although my viewing was slightly let down by some poor projecting, which cut off the top and bottom of the frame marginally).

Similar to the first film, A Dame to Kill For is comprised of several loosely connected but generally separate stories, all involving the shady characters of the Sin City underworld. Based upon Frank Miller’s series of graphic novels, some these plots are related to the last film, while some are original material. Confusingly for me, some are prequels and others are sequels, so already unfortunately these intertwined stories feel less cohesive. Big players Mickey Rourke, Bruce Willis, Jessica Alba and Rosario Dawson return for more; Josh Brolin replaces Clive Owen, and there are major new roles for Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Eva Green.

Also returning is the distinctive film noir hyperstyle, and the really gorgeous use of excessive high contrast black and white, with bursts of colour to add character – my favourite this time being the vivid green of Eva Green’s eyes. Neat little visual flourishes remain too, a particularly great one being when Gordon-Levitt’s Johnny, whilst losing at poker, sees himself shrunk to game size, stacks of chips around him, as he is sliced by razor-sharp cards. The consistency of style is reassuring and enjoyable, making it hard to believe it really has been nine years between films; although most of it is of course created on computers so it’s hardly difficult to recreate! 

The plotting is just as singularly driven, as characters pursue further revenge, profit or gain, and again, many encounter situations which turn out to be not what they seem. It’s pure pastiche, pure style, only lightly brushing over the themes of true film noir, such as urban decline, economic depression or entrapment. The biggest feature of A Dame to Kill For is corruption, and this gives a greater role to Powers Booth’s corrupt Senator Roarke, which is only a good thing as he is an electrifying screen presence. The simile-heavy dialogue and metaphors are back too, and just as enjoyably overblown and self-aware, although here sometimes pushed to the point of being overtly ridiculous.

A Dame to Kill For is a very entertaining voyage into the most disturbing of content turned pulp. Even the faces and the hushed gravelly voices of the actors feels just right. It’s just… something about this film didn’t feel as satisfying as the last time. A lot of reviews have pointed out how the sheer novelty and spectacle of the first film, once so distinct, has now become far more commonplace, which I suppose is partially true. But one of the reasons I was so looking forward to A Dame to Kill For was because it would be another chance to see this style done so beautifully.

Rather I feel the issues here lies with the scripting. The first film had a greater presence to it, a greater drive and purpose. Each of the three lead characters – Rourke’s anti-hero, Owen’s everyman, Willis’s tortured good guy – had a quest, a reason for doing what they were doing. Willis’s story of Hartigan looking out for Alba’s Nancy was especially effective. But this time, these stories and double crosses have less of a presence. Rourke’s Marv seems to exist purely to propagate violence for other characters’ needs. Gordon-Levitt’s Johnny’s attempt to best the corrupt senator at cards has far less of a powerful narrative force to it than that of Alba’s Nancy, who is being driven crazy by her desire for revenge. However, I found Alba less of an engaging screen presence than Willis was in the first film, with both pursuing similar aims. Finally, as much of a fan of Brolin as I am, I found his take on McCarthy far less charming than Owen’s, instead playing the character more as a bland thug repressing his personality in order to battle addictions which are mentioned only briefly. His story is dominated by Eva Green’s Ava – a charismatic and sultry take on the femme fatale, she’s definitely the best part of the film.

Overall, I found A Dame to Kill For far more rewarding than most critics, many of whom complained it was dull. Though the film shares many features directly with its predecessor, it doesn’t make it a mere carbon copy. However, this sequel is let down by poorer pacing and plotting; it feels less vital and urgent than the first time. Even though many stories end unhappily in Sin City, at least in the first film there was a sense of conclusion to them. This time however, many simply end without creating as great a sense of satisfaction. The visual fireworks are here, they’re simply less explosive.

Dirty Harry

1971
Director: Don Siegel
Writers: Harry Julian Fink, R.M. Fink, Dean Reisner

With far too much time on my hands during holidays, they’re always a good time to catch up with films I haven’t seen for a long time. After a year supposedly studying film academically, I suppose I wanted to see whether my opinions on any of my favourite films would be any different. To be honest, I doubt they ever would, not unless I could now see some glaring flaw in any of them I wasn’t aware of before, but I have no idea what they could possibly be. I still don’t watch them in the same way as the films we study at uni- I’m not going out of my way to note the mise-en-scene or studying the editing techniques; to me they’re still simply films I love to watch. Although I’ve found that on some base level, I do keep an eye open for these things when I watch films for fun (especially if they’re particularly distinct), just not in as much detail as during lectures.

It’s from this slightly confused standpoint that I decided to watch a film I’ve always had a lot of love for: Dirty Harry. Along with the likes of A Clockwork Orange, Pulp Fiction, Being John Malkovich and several others, this is one of the few films that are actually quite personal to me in that they were amongst the ones I watched when I was around 13/14 and being more adventurous in my viewing. These were some of the films that showed me how diverse and captivating cinema could be and ignited my passion for film which remains today. Dirty Harry also has the honour of being my first introduction to the living legend that is Clint Eastwood, a man whose sheer screen presence and effortless cool is still a pleasure to watch. Dirty Harry is still my favourite Clint film and his most memorable role, revisited across four sequels of unfortunately widely varying quality.

It had been a few years since I last watched this and so I wanted to see whether my high regard of it was still deserved or whether I was simply looking at it through rose tinted glasses. It is very different to a lot of my other top films in terms of factors like its content, scale, the period it was made in and its visuals. Of course I’d be worried if all my favourite films were especially similar but I did wonder what it was about this film that kept leading me to look on it so positively.

The time: 1971. The place: San Francisco. The city is being held hostage by a sadistic serial sniper known only as Scorpio. He has already murdered a young woman by shooting her from a rooftop and now demands $100, 000 or else he will kill another person each day. With the police on high alert, Inspector Harry Callaghan is assigned to the case. His no-nonsense style, lack of respect for his superiors and unorthodox methods have helped form the basis of many onscreen maverick cop imitations ever since. They’ve also developed his infamous reputation in the police department- many different theories are suggested as to why he’s called ‘Dirty’ Harry, from the fact that he’s the one most willing to do all the dirty jobs to the point that he is simply a bit of a perv (as evidenced several times during the film). What starts as a routine investigation soon escalates into an intense battle between Callaghan and Scorpio, with the two men resorting to increasingly offhand tricks to win their own personal wars.

I think that’s where this film’s greatest strength lies: in its simplicity. It’s less a police thriller and more a study into two dark and violent men. Rewatching it this time made me realise how similar they both are; it just happens one is on the side of the law and one isn’t. Both are driven solely by single forces- Scorpio with his sadistic love of killing and Callaghan with his need to enforce the law, although as the film progresses his methods become increasingly unethical as his desire to overpower Scorpio overtakes. Very little is revealed about the lives of either man other than the events onscreen. Scorpio’s name or history is never discovered, his life seems to consist of nothing more than his insatiable urge to cause pain. A scene of him robing a liquor store shows he has no interest in money or gaining possessions; he’s simply there to retrieve a new weapon to restart his campaign, although he does slip a bottle of whisky on the way out. He’s always presented in a dehumanised manner- our first glimpse of him at the very start is simply that of the barrel of his rifle. We don’t see his face until about 10 minutes later and don’t hear his flat voice later still; even then it’s only on the other end of a telephone line where we can’t see him. The music distorts and becomes far more sinister in his presence.

Similarly, Callaghan is shown as being motivated almost entirely by his work. There is frequent reference to the fact that he doesn’t have a wife and the only time we do see him off-work, he’s using his time to follow Scorpio. We learn little more about him, other than brief glimpses into his voyeuristic tendencies and his general dislike for other people, especially those in power he sees as ineffective (although he does show increasing respect for his new partner Chico Gonzalez after he shows his capabilities in the field). Many critics and reviewers have pointed out the conservative right-wing tendencies of the character and the film and its series in general. This sort of view never really occurred to me the first times I watched this, as I tend to prefer to remain generally apolitical when I watch films, although now Callaghan’s desire to preserve justice over an need to follow rules or preserve human rights  is quite obvious. The controversy surrounding this film in the early 1970s doesn’t seem at all shocking now, although I can understand why it caused such concern over issues like police brutality and fascist ideals, with scenes such as Callaghan torturing information out of an unhelpful Scorpio or shooting a gang of African-American bank robbers being the most obvious. At times it does seem like a critique of the legal system, one which is slow, ineffectual and which preserves the rights of the criminal over those of the victim, a criticism which still rings around today. The film does definitely seem to side with Callaghan on this issue, most notably when Scorpio, having been captured, is released because the evidence is inadmissible due to it being collected without a warrant. However, Callaghan’s methods are so unusual and so extreme than they can hardly be called realistic; it seems this film is intended more as a study of Callaghan himself and how his determination to stop this criminal drives him to extreme lengths, with any sort of social commentary coming second in priority.

Dirty Harry is definitely intended to be an entertaining piece of action cinema and it’s in that sense that it works so well. The pacing is very brisk and precise; no time is wasted on showing anything which isn’t entirely relevant. Instead we get a series of strong and memorable set-pieces, the telephone chase around town and the school bus hijacking especially. Don Siegel directs this very well with a strong steady eye for detail- the violence in this film is convincingly messy and unchoreographed-looking yet retains a sense of style and clarity that makes it incredibly watchable and tense. There’s also an intelligent use of time and place; San Francisco is treated almost like a character in itself with numerous long shots of skylines tied with intimate filming right on the streets and alleys to give it a distinct feel. Several landmarks are used inventively in the action sequences; what stood out for me was the ironic use of religious imagery such as the cross in Mount Davidson Park and the neon ‘Jesus Saves’ sign outside the church, these two locations being home to some of the bloodiest violence in the film. These signs reflect the burgeoning tolerance and general peace of the city being put under threat by this maniac. The city is also distinguished here because of its association with the Zodiac killings that took place here in the late 1960s and that would have been still fresh in the memory of those who watched this when it was released. Those real life crimes were obviously an inspiration for the writers as similarities are drawn such as the sending of threatening letters and the threat of kidnapping a schoolbus full of children. This is referenced directly in David Fincher’s rich drama Zodiac (2007), based on the investigation of the murders, where investigators watching Dirty Harry at the cinema are shown to be visibly uncomfortable with how much overlap there actually is between reality and fiction.

My brother complains that Clint Eastwood always plays the same role no matter what film he’s in. I suppose there is an element of truth in that (definitely in his earlier films) although his demeanour is most definitely his own and for me that’s what makes him so watchable. Here he is cocksure and confident; you can’t imagine him taking any shit off anyone. Harry Callaghan is just such a distinct character, with a swagger and a smart-talking economy with words all to himself. His ironic tone with his superiors and the mayor are a lot of fun- I loved spotting the homage to this in The Naked Gun with Leslie Nielsen’s Frank Drebin repeating Callaghan’s ‘I shoot the bastard’ speech. And of course you can’t forget Andy Robinson’s chilling turn as Scorpio, who on first appearances seems so unlikely- director Don Siegel describes how he has “the face of a choirboy”. But often it’s simply the cold smirk on his face that makes him so horrendously unpleasant, this marring of supposed innocence with such evil. His disintegration from the calm controlled sniper to the maniacally driven monster is creepy; he is definitely one of the most horrible movie villains I can think of.

What’s stood out for me on this repeat viewing is just how unbelievably dark and grim this film is. Although age adds to this, it is definitely a grimy looking film as we’re introduced to some of the most inhospitable parts of San Francisco hidden in the shadows. Lalo Schifrin’s jazzy score does add a touch of class but ultimately this is a supremely gritty film. It’s so cheesy of me to say this but Dirty Harry is very much a dirty film, not necessarily because it is explicit but because it doesn’t hesitate from showing the dark underbelly of urban space, the impersonal machine-like working process of law enforcement and the blackest reaches of human depravity- there are no limits to which either Scorpio or Callaghan will go to which will stop them from overcoming the other. I’m surprised how much of this I missed when I watched it at around age 14. Then it was just a highly watchable thriller, one that has aged surprisingly well. It’s strange how much more disturbed I was by it this time, although I’m glad I was because seeing this in a new way was refreshing and it reaffirmed my respect for this film. I know this has ended up turning more into an essay than a review but I guess I just have a lot to think about with this- I’m glad I still like this film so much, it certainly makes my favourites list much more intriguing.

Originally posted on my previous blog on 28th August 2012 (back when I was in first year!).