Tag Archives: #Matt Damon

Elysium; Red Obsession

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Elysium

Elysium is the follow up, much anticipated by many, to the critically acclaimed District 9 from South African-Canadian director and writer Neill Blomkamp.

In the middle of the 21st Century, with the world now grossly over-populated and law and order seemingly at breaking point, the super wealthy have decamped to a satellite space station highly visible from earth, a utopian society free of poverty, illness and other such mundane woes.

Meanwhile, the vast majority of earth’s population lives in squalid, cramped slums seemingly based on the Favelas of Rio de Janeiro. Needless to say, the rich are all too keen to protect their enclave and any unauthorised vessels arriving from earth are duly dispatched by being blasted away.

Jodie Foster stars as Elysium’s ambitious and sociopathic Defence Secretary, as ruthless at advancing her own interests as she is at ensuring the purity of the over-sized Ferris wheel whose security is in her charge; Matt Damon is the working class drone desperately trying to access the other world for the treatment to cure his radiation sickness from which he will die in 5 days.

There was clearly an interesting concept waiting to burst out here, an opportunity to explore themes of wealth, inequality, social status, health care and immigration, but sadly it failed on almost every level to build interest or have anything relevant to say.

First, we saw so little of the societal structure or way of life on Elysium itself. Apart from Jodie Foster and a few other high ranking officials, the film showed us nothing of how this satellite was run. It looked as if everyone lived in a McMansion style-home – the type you find next to golf courses in Florida or on the Sunshine Coast. It all looked terribly sterile, reminiscent of the contrived town Jim Carrey inhabited in The Truman Show. We were not privy as to who cut the lawns, did the plumbing or washed the dishes. Superficially, the lives of these pampered people seemed hollow and totally unfulfilled – where were the galleries, the museums, the theatres or even a casino for those that might like that sort of thing? Frankly, the impoverished life on earth which was shown with enforced work in a fascistic environment seemed far more fulfilling.

Further, Matt Damon’s motives for getting on Elysium were totally selfish. All he wanted was to save his own skin. Granted, there was then concocted an unconvincing love interest and a wish to save his childhood sweetheart’s little girl but this too was just parochial. Where was the burning anger borne from social injustice, the wish to better the lot of all humankind, the working class warrior on a mission? And when the film’s final denouement came it was head in a sick-bag time.

The script and dialogue were banal, as was Jodie Foster’s delivery. Matt Damon worked harder to bring some interest to his character but he was up against it – but at least he tried.

The CGI was good – but that’s pretty much a given in any well-funded Hollywood film these days. Close up camera work was appalling, non-stop wobble vision which made action sequences confusing. This camera style is so unnecessary and it really is beyond comprehension as to why film-makers persist in its use; in small doses it can be effective but when near constant it produces a feeling of nausea.

It is so disappointing to be relentlessly negative about a film but when they are as lacking as this one, the positives can be hard to find.

**

Red Obsession

This is an Australian-produced doco, looking at the history of wines from Bordeaux.

It is 75 minutes long.

After 75 minutes, I was aware that they have been making wines in Bordeaux since the Romans brought the vines; that Napoleon III had the wines graded in 1855 and the grades given remain to this day; that conditions come together for a great vintage about every 20 years; that wine is bought as an investment; that Americans have stopped buying it but the Chinese now do; that some French are sniffily xenophobic about dealing with the Chinese and that if the Chinese ever stop buying, the market may collapse.

Those facts took 75 minutes to explain. 75 very long minutes.

Some nice aerial photography. And looking at beautifully designed and constructed French chateaux is always easy on the eye.

The film had a nice, laconic commentary from Russell Crowe whose smoky, tobacco-enhanced voice fitted the subject well.

But it was all just too superficial, too under-researched with not enough of interest to fill the film’s time span. Some more history would have been welcome; the Great French Wine Blight of the late 1850s post-dated Napoleon III’s gradings – didn’t the blight make them obsolete? This question wasn’t addressed but would seem fundamental to an evaluation of Bordeaux. Still, I’m sure had I gone to France’s bucolic beauty spots to research such a film, I too would have been so distracted drinking the stuff I’d have forgotten .the reason for the visit.

2.5 stars.

Tim Meade

 

 

Behind the Candelabra

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Behind the Candelabra

The New York music critic, Lewis Funke, described Liberace’s piano playing as ‘sentimental as possible…all showmanship topped by whipped cream and cherries.’ To the critics and discerning musical audiences, Liberace was little short of the Anti-Christ – a sort of talented André Rieu. But like Rieu, Liberace was unfazed by the vitriol that came his way. He gave a large swathe of the public – mainly blue rinse women of a certain age – exactly what they wanted, made no apology for it, and profited handsomely. Famously he responded that, upset at the criticism, ‘I cried all the way to the bank.’ He later amended this to say he went on to buy the bank.

More serious for him was any implied suggestion that he might be ‘a fruit’ as homosexuals were then often disparagingly called.

In 1959, Cassandra in the British Daily Mirror, described Liberace as being “…the summit of sex – the pinnacle of masculine, feminine, and neuter. Everything that he, she, and it can ever want…a deadly, winking, sniggering, snuggling, chromium-plated, scent-impregnated, luminous, quivering, giggling, fruit-flavoured, mincing, ice-covered heap of mother love.” Liberace sued for the implication and won the case, perjuring himself in the London High Court by denying his sexuality.

It seems incredible now that anyone could have been in doubt as to Liberace’s sexuality. Times were different then and by the mores of that era, Liberace had to ensure that his loyal fan base was deceived. Were the truth to have emerged, his career would have been ruined and he liable for criminal prosecution.

 Behind the Candelabra, as the title suggests, looks at Liberace’s rather seedy and debauched private life from the 1970s when he was in his late 50s. His career had long since peaked but he could still command massive fees and audiences for his Las Vegas shows full of chintz, glitz and glamour.

The film follows a standard, slightly old-fashioned, biopic formula not so different from The Glenn Miller Story of nearly sixty years hence. It details Liberace’s relationship with a much younger man who he inveigles into his life as chauffeur, secretary, companion and lover, eventually and inevitably boring of him and moving onto someone new and younger.

Neither of the main protagonists, Liberace (Michael Douglas) or his young lover Scott Thorson (Matt Damon), present as sympathetic figures – Liberace is portrayed as a manipulative ogre, petulant and spoilt in a manner unique to someone to whom nobody ever says no. Thorson is a chancer and user, happy to live a useless, lazy lifestyle as the toy-boy of a wealthy golden daddy, stealing from him as his drug habit spirals out of control.

What raises the film above the ordinary is an ensemble cast whose acting and delivery without exception is supreme. Michael Douglas gives a pitch perfect portrayal as the ageing lothario. In the few scenes showing Liberace performing, he radiates the man’s stage presence and charisma, contrasting his far from edifying off-stage persona. Douglas’s miming of piano playing is also good though not always well synchronised. It is unfortunate that the film was not released to theatres in the United States, showing only on television, thus precluding Douglas from receiving an Oscar nomination which would be well deserved.

Matt Damon, although far older than Scott Thorson at the time of his relationship, matches Douglas nicely as he moves from youthful naïvety to embittered and worthless gigolo. I’ve been less than kind about Damon’s acting in the past when he did little more than recite lines. But he now seems incapable of putting in anything other than a strong showing.

Though the film concentrates on Douglas and Damon, there is still plenty of opportunity for great cameos from a few well known faces. Dan Ackroyd has fun as Liberace’s manager; the veteran Debbie Reynolds likewise as the devoted mother. Funnier still is Rob Lowe as plastic surgeon to the stars, Dr Jack Startz. Lowe’s face is pinched, taut and lifeless resembling an Afghan Hound, personifying the specious vanity in trying to hold back the years.

If Steven Soderbergh is to be believed, this is his last film after a 25 year career as a director. Should it be that he has lost the passion and has nothing more to contribute, then so be it. But I hope that proves not to be the case. Soderbergh has made some great films since his debut with Sex, Lies and Videotape; earlier this year his thriller Side Effects was a fine example of that genre. Let’s hope he has a nice sabbatical and returns refreshed. Hollywood can ill afford to lose his talent.

3.5 stars

Tim Meade