A friend from college, Phil Hawkins, is due to screen his movie at Cannes this month.
Obviously this is very exciting and he deserves to have this opportunity to showcase his work. The film in question is an independently produced adaptation of an early Phillip Pullman novel, The Butterfly Tattoo.
But I wonder what kind of a reception he will get at the festival as an unknown director and if his work will be lost in the sea of directorial debuts and independent productions.
Cannes began life as a festival for filmmakers but it seems it is quickly becoming a place for celebrities who wish to show how credible they are to turn up and strut around the red carpet. Has the festival got its priorities right?
As a real first time director, I have to wonder if Phil will really be given the platform all independent film makers deserve.
A colleague of mine recently commented on film journalism as a bit of a joke. How hard can it possibly be to write about movies? And can you really categorise film reviews as journalism?
Of course you can!
In my opinion quality writing on film is vital. Film is the most popular form of entertainment in the Western world. I cannot understand why film criticism is scoffed at so much.
As Carr quite rightly points out: “For a certain kind of movie, critical accolades can mean the difference between relevance and obscurity, not to mention box office success or failure.
Those who have studied film and journalism and have a proper understanding of both are, in my opinion, the only people properly qualified to speak on the subject.
What is killing film journalism, probably more than any other section of the media, is citizen journalism.
When Tom, Dick, Harry or in this case, Sally, submits a film review on the internet, it is available to anyone. The same can be said for any form of citizen journalism, but there is a difference.
When a citizen writes a news story for the web it is likely to be quickly discredited. It is unlikely that an untrained individual has the legal knowledge or journalistic skills to produce a fair report. And so, inaccuracies in news tend to be filtered through fairly quickly.
But when a citizen writes a film review there is no quality control. Despite the fact that the citizen doesn’t have the breadth of experience and critical qualifications of real film journalism, their work may be considered on equal terms.
Considering the fact that film critics have years of training in film, this hardly seems fair. Why should one form of journalism be considered more lightweight than another?
Citizen journalists just don’t have the necessary tools for in-depth film criticism.
Film journalism has always been pretty low on a newspapers list of priorities, probably only bettered in triviality by art criticism. But why should this be the case?
Scott Rudin, who produced ‘No Country For Old Men’ and ‘There Will Be Blood’, believes film critics are vital in getting his films seen. “For those of us who are making work that requires a kind of intellectual conversation, we rely on that talk to do the work of getting people interested.”
“All of the talk about ‘No Country,’ all of the argument about the ending, kept that film in the forefront of the conversation” and helped it win the best picture Oscar.
Film is the most popular form of entertainment in the western world. Cinemas are packed at weekends. Mobile phone companies entice customers with the prospect of free cinema tickets. DVD sales have remained solid.
If you are a journalist wanting to get into film journalism it can be near impossible unless you have the suitable skills, experience and qualifications. It is one of the most competitive job markets out there and yet people continue to pour scorn on the very idea of film journalism.
In an interview with Melvyn Bragg on the South Bank Show, Kevin Spacey said art is not a luxury, it is a necessity. If this is the case, which I believe it is, why do we devalue it so?
In Monday’s G2, German director, Michael Haneke spoke about his forthcoming movie, Funny Games. The film is a shot-for-shot remake of his 1997 German language film of the same name.
It tells the story of a wealthy family in their holiday-home who are systematically tortured by two young intruders.
In an interview with the Guardian, Haneke said that he believed this was the perfect time to release the film in America, with an American cast, to an American audience. He argues that the recent penchant for what he describes as “torture porn” in films such as Eli Roth’s ‘Hostel’, and James Wan’s ‘Saw’ has made audiences more voyeuristic than ever before.
Funny Games depicts off-camera scenes of disturbing torture and violence and as such, runs parallel to the films Haneke abhors. However, Haneke says the only reasonable reaction when watching his film is to walk out.
In using the same techniques as those used in ‘torture porn’ he aims to shake us out of ourselves and make the audience see that there is little value in this kind of entertainment.
Funny Games raises some interesting questions. Why are we so quick to cheer violence on? Why do we crave it so? As a viewer, are we responsible? And what is it that makes the Saw films so popular and successful?
Critics have slated the experiment pegging it as self-indulgent and boring. In a review on the Culture Show, critic Mark Kermode said it was much like the original, two hours of finger-wagging designed to make the viewer guilty and uncomfortable. A totally humourless experience.
But no matter what the reviews say and no matter how much critics, directors and film students discuss its merits and pitfalls, the real question is whether the right people will go and see Funny Games and if they will leave having learnt anything.
For an average teenager who happens upon the film at the local megaplex, will it provoke discussion? Will it make them think twice about their role as an audience member, a viewer, a voyeur? Or will they simply enjoy it in the same way they enjoyed Saw and Hostel?
So what is the appeal of “torture porn”?
Whenever someone tells me I need to see Saw, they always seem to attach a degree of importance to how horrific it is. As though that is the positive element that will induce me to pick up my sick bag and rush to Blockbuster Video as quickly as I can to indulge in a bit of masochism.
I can’t say I understand the appeal of watching two hours of brutal torture myself, but many do and there are three sequels and a fifth movie in the pipeline that prove I am wrong.
Daniel Colbert, a 23 year old business student from Manchester, says he really enjoys the films but doesn’t understand their appeal either.
“I’m trying to put it into better words than ‘I seen Saw 2, it scared the shit out of me and I haven’t got a clue in the bluest of blue hazes why I want to continue watching.’”
“I’d say that with Saw, that it encompasses viewer expectations of a horror movie in a way that is fresh and seldom seen. The non-plot driven ‘game’ scenes are a quick accessible way to create fear in people with short attention spans.”
He thinks that, for many people, it is perhaps a macho exercise. Those who can stand to watch these grotesque scenes are hard enough to challenge their friends to do the same.
Daniel also thinks it reflects the current fears running through society. With cases such as Madeline McCann and Shannon Matthews at the fore of media attention, kidnapping is a fear that is very prominent at the moment.
“The media definitely pray on people’s fears, the amount of media attention the Maddy case gets is astounding considering people go missing all the time in reality. I’d say it’s a very common fear, being kidnapped. I reckon I’m more scared of it now.”
He admits however that most of the appeal is in the shock value.
Christine Abbit, 57, a receptionist from Warton can’t understand the appeal at all.
“I can’t stand those films. I can understand people getting a bit excitable about horror things and stuff, but when they go to the cinema and they go to see people tortured I think that’s very weird. And it just leads to greater expectations, what’s the worst they can do to people? What’s the furthest they can go with it?”
“It is such a cop out to make the characters unattractive personalities so that you’re not supposed to care about them. As if that’s an excuse.”
“To be honest, I have been wrong about films before. I never thought I would enjoy ‘American Psycho’ because the basic premise sounded off-putting to me, but I was wrong. But not with these films. I just think they’re weird.”
Eli Roth has justified making ‘Hostel’, in which a group of Americans are directed to stay in hostel where they are brutally tortured and murdered, as a comment on consumerism.
“I think it’s all about shock value. Do they just make up a reason to hide behind? To justify their actions for making these films?”
“The fact is millions of people pay to see these films and they are hugely successful and yet there is nowhere near enough media attention for real torture. Yet we are inundated with this mock torture stuff.”
“I know it’s not intended for me, it has a specific market that would never be intended for me, but I am predisposed to be very upset by those things.”
As far as I am concerned, I too can’t see the appeal of torture porn. Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of gore as much as the next girl. Vampires, werewolves and Zombies in particular are great fun, and I consider myself quite a horror fan. But I just can’t get into torture as entertainment.
Horror films have acted as a cathartic release for society’s fears for nearly a century. The good ones have always reflected the social climate.
‘Nosferatu’ was a classic which formed the basis for the success of every vampire movie since. Released in 1922, it was part of the German Expressionist movement and reflected the instable nature of that country at that time.
In the 1930s and 40s, Universal Pictures’ run of successful monster movies, cumulating with Tod Browning’s ‘Dracula’ in 1931, highlighted the threat from abroad. Count Dracula is an unknown, an intruder from a foreign land who invades our shores and takes our women. Bela Lugosi’s indefinable ‘European’ accent in that film was a rather obvious but no less effective reference to the Nazi threat.
The science fiction ventures of the 1950s such as the ‘Invasion of the Bodysnatchers’ in 1957 channelled the threat of the Cold War and dealt with the threat to humanity from outside influences, such as aliens and dangerous mutations.
In the 1960s, George Romero used his B movie horror film, ‘Night of the Living Dead’ as a sounding board for his political views. As racial prejudices ran rife in America, Romero used the Zombies, ‘the infected’ to symbolise every creed, colour or race that the average white American saw as a threat. The film is about man devouring man, racial prejudice, and finally the only black man in the film, the hero of the piece, is shot dead.
Towards the end of the 1960s, ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ (1968), in which Mia Farrow bears the spawn of the devil heralded the beginning of films that focussed on the threat from within.
Demons and, more prominently, the Devil, are strong themes in films such as The Exorcist (1973), Don’t Look Now (1973) and Brian De Palma’s 1976 classic, ‘Carrie’, in which the protagonist is possessed by inner demons that fuel her rage and power her telekinesis. In the same year, ‘The Omen’ sees the spawn of Satan, Damian, terrorise those around him. Tobe Hooper’s ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ (1974) on the other hand, is a comment on the effects of the Vietnam War.
In the 1980s, the horror film became a fear in itself with the rise of the ‘video nasty’. These low budget horrors often depicted scenes of extreme violence and gore. They were strongly opposed in Britain, especially by prominent campaigner, Mary Whitehouse, for their violent content and availability to children and teenagers.
The explosion of the video nasties is perhaps a perfect contrast to today’s new wave of torture porn. At the time, video nasties were considered horrific by many and were strongly opposed. However, one of the greatest outputs of that generation was Sam Ramai’s 1981 classic, ‘The Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn’. This slapstick ‘splatter comedy’ is very gory and was considered particularly violent in the 80s. Now however, it is regarded as one of the greatest horror films ever made. Which begs the question; will we look back in twenty years time on Saw or Hostel and say the same thing?
The IMDB comments board for ‘Hostel’, makes for some interesting reading. In a thread entitled, ‘Suitable for a 14 year old that’s seen all of the Saws and was fine?’ alwaysvanilla94 asks:
“Except for the head twisting part in saw 3, but other than that was fine with it all? Would they be okay to watch it?”
One would hope the answer would be a resounding no, but some of the comments are surprising.
As for Funny Games, even the stars of the movie don’t seem so certain about its message since its release.
In an interview with the Telegraph, Naomi Watts said: “I was incredibly disturbed by the original film.”
“But I liked that Michael was playing with you, getting into your head and saying that you have blood on your hands as an audience member.”
“Funny Games was hard and it was difficult, and Michael wouldn’t protect you from feeling the character. So maybe it might be… it might be something I would rethink now. But I’ll always be a little drawn to the darker stuff.”
Watts told MTV: “I think that Michael is trying to show violence in all of its ugliness and brutality so that we are more mindful as audience members and think more carefully as we cheer it on and crave it.”
There will always be horror films and there will always be an audience for them, but with torture porn, has Hollywood gone too far?
There’s something very ugly about film journalism nowadays.
Open an issue of Empire or Total Film and it’s likely that whatever you read will be aimed at attracting 17 year old boys.
The words “spoilers” and “stunning” feature heavily. There’s always a star rating. The picture inserts are full of tacky jokes. What happened to elegant film writing?
Between 1935 and 1940, Graham Greene reviewed over 400 films in Spectator and Night and Day. His writing on films was as taught and readable as any of his novels. He reviewed everything from Mark Sandrich’s classic musical, Top Hat , to the Kipling adaptation, Elephant Boy. Greene also wrote a number of screenplays and screen adaptations of his own novels, including The Third Man, Our Man in Havana and the excellent Brighton Rock. He described his trips to the cinema as an escape from the daily pressures of novel writing.
So why can’t film reviews today mirror the writing of the 30s and 40s? Why does everything have to be followed by a star rating and a brief and pointless synopsis?
Of course I’m not suggesting that there is no crediable film journalism. The best film magazine currently on sale in the UK is Sight and Sound. Produced by the BFI, it doesn’t compromise its intellegence or condescend to its readers. Reviews are thorough and balanced. Interviews are rarely sychophantic and the essays are detailed and informative.
If film magazines tried to stop emulating weekly glossies and concentrated on film itself, perhaps we would see a return to the elegant film writing of Graham Greene and Dylis Powell.
showcase his work. The film in question is an independently produced adaptation of an early Phillip Pullman novel, The Butterfly Tattoo.
movie, Funny Games. The film is a shot-for-shot remake of his 1997 German language film of the same name. 
cumulating with Tod Browning’s ‘Dracula’ in 1931, highlighted the threat from abroad. Count Dracula is an unknown, an intruder from a foreign land who invades our shores and takes our women. Bela Lugosi’s indefinable ‘European’ accent in that film was a rather obvious but no less effective reference to the Nazi threat. 
960s, George Romero used his B movie horror film, ‘Night of the Living Dead’ as a sounding board for his political views. As racial prejudices ran rife in America, Romero used the Zombies, ‘the infected’ to symbolise every creed, colour or race that the average white American saw as a threat. The film is about man devouring man, racial prejudice, and finally the only black man in the film, the hero of the piece, is shot dead. 
as The Exorcist (1973), Don’t Look Now (1973) and Brian De Palma’s 1976 classic, ‘Carrie’, in which the protagonist is possessed by inner demons that fuel her rage and power her telekinesis. In the same year, ‘The Omen’ sees the spawn of Satan, Damian, terrorise those around him. Tobe Hooper’s ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ (1974) on the other hand, is a comment on the effects of the Vietnam War. 
losion of the video nasties is perhaps a perfect contrast to today’s new wave of torture porn. At the time, video nasties were considered horrific by many and were strongly opposed. However, one of the greatest outputs of that generation was Sam Ramai’s 1981 classic, ‘The Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn’. This slapstick ‘splatter comedy’ is very gory and was considered particularly violent in the 80s. Now however, it is regarded as one of the greatest horror films ever made. Which begs the question; will we look back in twenty years time on Saw or Hostel and say the same thing?
The words “spoilers” and “stunning” feature heavily. There’s always a star rating. The picture inserts are full of tacky jokes. What happened to elegant film writing?
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