Where the film does excel is clearly in it acting and crucially in its delivery of Shakespeare’s tale and language. The film opts for an ambiguous European setting in the struggle between liberal and more conservative powers while rebel forces lead by Tullus Aufidius, surprisingly well-played by Gerald Butler if slightly one-note, are priming an invasion of Rome, in name only. The Shakespearian dialect flows from the likes of Vanessa Redgrave and Brian Cox never feeling intrusive or out of place. This is where the film really succeeds. If the audience is not willing to buy into the very particular dialect then no matter how relevant and kinetic you make the narrative, no matter how Black Hawk Down-esque you make the action sequences (of which, it must be said, are fewer than a handful), there will always be a degree of the intended audience that will have no intension of seeing anything with the slightest hint of Shakespearean language. This raises the question: Is Coriolanus worthy of mass mainstream penetration in much the same way Romeo + Juliet did? With the competence and flare of its presentation, it should, yes. However, where Luhrmann’s film had beautiful, young romantics that wouldn’t let anything stand between their love, Fienne’s effort has an angry, intentionally un-charismatic, (mostly) bald man caught up in politics both personal and national. Audience or not, Coriolanus shows how relevant and thrilling Shakespeare can be when delivered with dynamism, conviction and backed by unquestionable talent.
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
Coriolanus - Fienne's impressive debut
Ralph Fiennes directorial debut takes Shakespeare’s primal, violent and politically Avant-garde text and reattributes it, similarly to Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet (1996) or even, though more loosely, Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood (1957). Fiennes shows a flare for rousing melodrama both in his direction and acting, though it must be said that, for obvious reasons, his acting is far more mature and honed than his admittedly confided and promising direction. Stylistically the film owes a very clear debt to the likes of Michael Mann’s Heat (1995) and Mann’s long time DP, Dante Spinotti in its use of handheld camera. The problem with Barry Ackroyd’s photography, and this also refers to his work on The Hurt Locker (2008) despite the Academy Award, is that he doesn’t capture the nuances and believability found in Mann’s best works. Instead the cinematography can come across as slightly silly as opposed to the gruelling intensity too clearly being strived for. This makes apparent the flaw of all too many films nowadays that have the camera as a character more so than an observing force. Of course this makes sense in mockumentaries as most clearly seen in the likes of The Blair Witch Project (1999) and Cloverfield (2008). Another area the film slips up in is its descents into unnecessary and poorly-judged machismo. Whether or not such segments are intentionally homoerotic and rife with phallic imagery as a form of meditation or ironic statement on the brotherhood and nature of war and soldiers is irrelevant. It simply doesn’t work, instead coming across as childish and obtuse.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)