November 2003's AIDS benefit in Cape Town was made special by the presence of one person. No, not Bono, Beyoncé, Geldof, Gabriel or Ms Dynamite, mightily as they perform. On this showing, the biggest star in the world is currently Nelson Mandela, who inspired the event and gets a cheer 10 times as long and loud as the rest combined. A vital cause, some decent music, a few dodgy stadium rock moments and the world's only living saint.
Sleazecore rocker Rob Zombie pays homage to the golden 1970s heyday of psycho-slasher flicks with his wilfully trashy but memorably nightmarish debut feature, which makes up for a slow start with its final descent into a shock-rocking Hellzone of backwoods mutants, Satanic serial killers, hardcore violence and unimaginable torture. Mixing grainy film stock and period detail, Zombie takes inspiration from Driller Killer, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Evil Dead and other midnight-movie classics.
Hungarian monochrome master Bela Tarr doesn't piss around with frivolities like humour, logic or even much in the way of dialogue. And yet these lean, unstintingly intense films about people walking around a lot, suffering for love (in Damnation) or trying to prevent society from descending into chaos (Werckmeister Harmonies) are transcendent. At the very least, this will make illuminating viewing for fans of Gus Van Sant's last two flicks, Gerry and Elephant, since Tarr's work directly inspired them.
Novelist Alexander Trocchi's uneasy blend of Beat existentialism and pseudo porn continue to gnaw in this stylish adaptation of his 1954 whodunnit. Ewan McGregor is suitably dour as the sinister drifter while director David Mackenzie proves himself a master of sustained gloom. But it's the sex scenes, progressing from erotic to self-conscious to simply absurd, that continually corrode.
Kooky low-budget Brit-flick gets a moribund Scandinavian once-over as Danish Dogme disciple Lone Scherfig (Italian For Beginners) directs this contrived tale of two contrasting Glaswegian brothers—one is dying, one wants to die; one is sexy, one is square, etc—caught in a love triangle with mousy hospital worker Shirley Henderson. Annoying.
Gob-smackingly ill-suited to the small screen, Gus Van Sant's infuriating and addictive road movie is a tale of two Gerrys (Matt Damon and Casey Affleck) lost in the desert. It's also a sumptuous Utah travelogue. And a pompous Beckettian comedy. And a sly parable on human frailty. But by then you'll have switched off the TV.
Following the success of Jean De Florette and Manon Des Sources, interest was sufficiently stirred in author Marcel Pagnol to fuel two features based on his childhood memoirs in a sun-drenched Provence. Picture-postcard landscapes figure prominently in Yves Robert's polished recreation of the summer of 1900, although the human drama goes no deeper than minor family arguments and slender rites-of-passage rituals. This was hugely successful, but adds up to little more than an oppressively tasteful tourist-board panorama.
Cynical lapsed communist Daniel Auteuil gets lost driving through a dark forest, and encounters haughty bilingual seductress Kristin Scott Thomas. An episodic shaggy dog story ensues, sprayed with romance and bleak jokes. Pascal Bonitzer writes/directs a unique, odd mystery which is splendidly acted by all. Let's face it, if you're casting a haughty bilingual seductress, Kristin's your woman.
Just when you thought that Pixar had colonised the universe of Western kids' imaginations, here came something fabulously rich and strange from the East. Spirited Away is an apt title for an animation classic that literally transports the viewer into a parallel visual world of gods and magic. Whether it's an allegory of greed and innocence or merely a psychedelic feast, this implicitly anti-Disney epic is never cosy or sanitised. And its decorative detail is breathtaking.
