Highly Recommended: Frost / Nixon

Frost/Nixon thrillingly documents a confrontation between two men: one trying to make his name and the other attempting to clear it. Both men undergo a journey which results in Michael Sheen’s David Frost stumbling from playful anchorman to political interrogator and Frank Langella’s Richard Nixon being momentarily pulled out of a quiet retirement by a broadcasted expose of his criminal deception.

Sheen and Langella are equally remarkable in a film which presents two imposing characters. Sheen plays Frost as a charismatic and disarmingly naive presenter with a vaulting ambition driving him through the obstacles that he encounters. Meanwhile Langella truly inhabits the now notorious Nixon, achieving an unsettling aura of menace as the fragile looking old man bats away all arguments with meanderingly mundane anecdotes.

In this film about a television programme everything points towards the televisual. The opening images are taken from real news footage from the time; firmly locating the drama to follow and reminding us that the original audience were sitting at home, tuning in to see their president on trial. There are interesting topical resonances for the study of the media’s influence on politics and the extent to which the fate of a leader is influenced by their ability to present themselves in a favourable light.

One criticism of the film would be its dogged reliance on the narrative trajectory of the underdog who meets failure after failure before ultimately overcoming the odds. Like Rocky, Sheen’s Frost is bruised and battered after every round with the heavyweight Nixon but eventually picks himself up and lands the sucker punch.

Ron Howard has adapted the Peter Morgan stage play which featured the same leads and the film undoubtedly has a taste of the theatrical about it. No frenetic camera work is required to add a sense of urgency to proceedings as the two protagonists engage in close verbal combat. The claustrophobic sets reflect the game of cat and mouse enacted before us, as the predatory ex-President intimidates Frost out of the ring again and again. But in the last round the mouse finally fights back, trapping Nixon against the ropes and extracting those chillingly infamous words: ‘When the president does it, it’s not illegal.’

and the Academy Award for Best Actor in a Leading Role goes to...

Forget wrinkly wrestlers, dairy campaigners, and chronologically challenged button boys, the most captivating character on screen this year was a mobile rubbish bin. Wall-E, the earth division Waste Allocation Load Lifter inspired audiences to both laughter and tears with a cosmic performance spanning loneliness, love, loss and liberation as the determination of this lowly refuse collector eventually saves the entire earth and gives humanity hope of a future.

It is a timeless tale of a friendless soul stuck in a dead-end job whose world is turned upside down by the arrival of a girl who gives a meaning to his existence. Wall-E lumbers along carrying out the futile task of endlessly compacting the mountains of debris left behind by the humans who abandoned the mess they created over 700 years previously in favour of a sanitized existence in space. This rusty robot not only carries heaps of rubble but also the weight of the entire film; with large portions of it consisting only of his warbling bleeps and Chaplin-esque clumsiness.

Wall-E falls for the mysteriously graceful EVE, a shiny emissary searching for signs of life, but just as she seems about to let him into her circuit-board heart the two lovers are cruelly pulled apart by forces stronger than gravity. In a masterful performance this endearing service machine transforms himself into the most unlikely of heroes, who, simply by following his heart manages to rescue both his beloved and the planet, as well as somewhere along the way reminding the humans what it is to be human.

I would have printed his acceptance speech here, but it was just a load of rubbish.

The Art of Wit

Even hidden behind a clown mask Ledger commands the scene with only the use of a few grunts, a twist of the head and a instantly iconic stuttering swagger.

As he removes the mask he utters the first of the multitude of subversively memorable quotes that sparkle darkly throughout the film as it totters between the gratuitously frenetic and the portentously profound: ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you… stranger.’

Despite the constant punctuation of frenzied gesticulation and demonic chuckling, the Joker’s speech often flickers into what resembles philosophical insights, albeit perverse ones. His twisted truths resemble common adages, distorted by the wildly all-consuming character that utters them.

The moments when this 'film on fear' truly horrifies are when his dictums appear to make sense and we find ourselves believing in him.

UCL Festival of the Moving Image

From November 4th to the 7th the Bloomsbury Theatre was home to the UCL Festival of the Moving Image. Over the event over one thousand four hundred and forty three minutes of moving images were projected onto a large screen for the viewing pleasure of the general public. There were no tickets to be bought, or seats to be booked, just four days of audio-visual stimulation courtesy of The UCL Spanish / Latin American Dept. and the UCL Film Studies Programme.

The moving images on show ranged from classic foreign films such as Alfonso Arau’s ‘Como agua para chocolate’ (‘Like Water for Chocolate‘) to the latest productions of the UCL Film and TV society such as a superbly tender documentary by Daniel Jones called ‘Silent Dancers’.

Due to the low attendances the festival had an intimate feel and considering that the Bloomsbury was hardly stretched in accommodating the small audience sprinkled across its considerable rows the atmosphere was surprisingly lively, as it was clear that those who had made it there were eagerly devouring every minute of this free-of-charge all you-can-eat buffet of film.

The festival commenced on Tuesday with a veritable hors d’oeuvre of short film from Havana. Throughout striking portraits of struggles beneath the weight of poverty and the political pressures of life in Havana there ran a unquenchable passion for revolution and hope for the future. The touching ‘Lo haria de Nuevo (I’d Do It All Again) ended poignantly with an elderly man‘s cry of ‘Revolucion!’ as he sat underneath a picture of Che Guevara and waited for the nurse to bring him his tea.

The real advantage of being at a festival rather than simply attending the cinema is the interactive aspect. It is quite something to have a film introduced by its director and after the showing to be able to wander up to them for a chat. This kind of event brings to life the often faceless names that roll across the credits as we shuffle down the aisle at the end of a film. With the creators themselves in the room watching their work alongside us, for a moment the business of film becomes something palpable, and perhaps even, within reach.

Unfortunately some of the discussions were made slightly awkward by the fact that the panel of directors and critics on stage sometimes outnumbered the audience watching. But thankfully the atmosphere was always enhanced by the complimentary rum and beer provided courtesy of the Cuban Embassy.

Of course, the festival did also boast some very familiar faces, such as the Oscar-winning actress Vanessa Redgrave who discussed her latest film ‘The Fever.’ Another highlight was the appearance of British film-making royalty in the form of Ken Loach who passionately fielded questions from the audience after a screening of his film ‘It’s a Free World’ to bring the festival to a close.

Stepping outside onto a grey and drizzly Gordon Street felt like coming back from holiday. Four days of exotic locations, vibrant culture, unfamiliar language, heady drinks and hypnotic music had come to an end. Moving images sure can take you places.

Marks Tey

Two women broke down in tears. She managed to break free. That’s when I knew I had to get away. At an industry tribute. Send out a bad message from the cultural centre. A major crackdown. Drivers circling the capital for prey. NW10. The Air Force One 747. More fashionable and popular with younger customers. A landmark moment for one of our most treasured drinks. A West End show featuring a drug-dealing pimp. According to a study by the Dutch Centre for Insurance Statistics. Save up to half price. Swelling, infection and bleeding were the most common side effects. The frosty-looking pair. You can call me Al. We’ve slashed prices across hundreds of lines. Alex is a legend and doesn’t deserve any of this. Factory shop. The No campaign. The satisfaction rating is 2.2 per cent. Bankers may flash their cash in a boom. Shocking and essential. America’s fudging of human rights. And then deigns to fall in love. A look at life on Death Row. Louis Leterrier. Gamma-zapped Dr Jekyll mooches around a Brazilian shanty. Ramps up the camp. Early techno with wink’n’giggle glee. International Kite-Fliers. Imitation’s the sincerest form of telly. Go-Cat for indoor cats. Bringing the outdoors in. Go-Cat Indoor is not just a complete meal but delicious too! Antonisia Do Carno. A limitless swamp of inanities. The recipe challenge. Original referee. The Grim adventures of Billy & Mandy. Roots reggae stalwarts. Trip hop favourites. This train is arriving at. Marks Tey. It’s already too late.

The Coffee Man

I want to ask him what his name is. I want to know his story. I want some coffee. I begin to talk about the machine. It is incapable of producing frothed milk. Apparently this ailment is common to the model. I leave my new friend in order to serve someone some syrupy over-priced ice-cream. The total receipt exceeds the pay I receive for three hours work. I wonder how long the coffee man would have to work to buy a core sundae. Perhaps he doesn’t even like core sundaes. I return to find him leaning back against the counter staring at a family while they peruse the garish rows of pick and mix sweets. Sugar and preservatives call out from multifarious guises. He cranes round to tell me that he only comes to look at the women. I can’t think of anything to say. I eventually hazard a cautious laugh. His breath reeks. A fat child is forced to retreat from the till as he is unable to afford the vast amount of mix he has picked. Apparently this ailment is common to the model.

An Exercise in Disinformation

And so it begins...