REVIEW: You Carry Me (2015) January 26, 2016Posted by Dragan Antulov in Film Reviews.
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YOU CARRY ME
(TI MENE NOSIŠ)
A Film Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2016
Critics didn’t like Narodni heroj Ljiljan Vidić, comedy that is supposed to be something of a hit in Croatian cinemas. I guess that Croatian filmmakers don’t like either. The main reason, however, would have less to do film’s quality and more with its genre, making it a one among few Croatian films you could enjoy watching together with late-night pizza, beer and non-cinephile friends. Those kinds of films, regardless of their quality, are among the least likely to get funding from Croatian Audiovisual Center, govermnent agency whose officials tend to prefer films that are supposed to do well at festivals and the arthouse circuit – menacingly serious heavy dramas about characters or situations you are lucky to watch on screen instead in real life. Most of such films are ignored by Croatian public, with humiliatingly low box-officers numbers often justified by generally poor quality of filmmaking. From time to time, however, some of those titles employ enough talent to justify every bit of taxpayers’ money invested and in some, even rarer, cases, a film might turn out to be something quite remarkable. You Carry Me, feature debut of Ivona Juka, is one of such films.
Plot is made out of three stories about three women in contemporary Zagreb. The youngest of them is Dora (played by Helena Beljan), young androgynous girl who dreams about becoming soccer manager when she grows up and takes Zdravko Mamić, controversial manager of Dinamo Zagreb club, as her role model. Her father (played by Goran Hajduković) is Vedran, small-time drug dealer who spent previous few years away from his children and wife Lidija (played by Nataša Janjić) and now tries to make a new start by being good parent and honest citizen, with predictably unsuccessful results. Lidija works as a makeup artist for the television soap opera which is directed by Ives (Lana Barić), dedicated professional who fights a losing battle for sanity while trying to take care of her loving but increasingly demented old father (played by Voja Brajović). Nataša (played by Nataša Dorčić) is a middle-aged producer of the soap opera whose career brought material success, but who nevertheless has to deal with some unpleasant issues like pregnancy, husband’s infidelity, serious illness and traumas from distant past.
Some of the reviewers compared Juka’s film with Alejandro Iñárritu’s films like Amores perros and 21 Grams or Paul Haggis’ Crash. The most obvious reason for that is structure. The similarities between You Carry Me and those films, however, end there. Juka’s film is not only original work, but it is confidently and uncompromisingly set in Croatian present. Unlike many of her colleagues she simply refuses to deal with Croatian past, whether she sees it idyllic or traumatic. Although all three stories are personal, she doesn’t shy away from bigger picture, which is far from flattering – impoverished citizens at the mercy of all-powerful banks run by heartless managers, inability of an average person to have a decent life with average salaries, petty and sometimes not even petty crime as the only way to get ahead and ever-present corruption that touches every aspect of society, including national politics. The general picture might be bleak, but it is nevertheless impressive, due to talents of cinematographer Mario Oljača, who perfectly captured snow-covered streets of Zagreb. Italian composer Teho Teardo also provides an important and effective ingredient to the general atmosphere.
Juka’s greatest asset could be found in actors. She had some experienced people at her disposal, namely Nataša Dorčić who bravely deals with potentially thankless role of a pregnant middle-aged woman. Some of the talents she found outside of Croatia, namely in great Serbian actor Voja Brajović and Slovenian actor Sebastian Cavazza who is very good in role of Nataša’s husband. Some of the actors are pure revelation. Helena Beljan is effective as a little girl who is both fascinating and also, at times, frightening and who wouldn’t have to worry about acting career if Croatian cinema industry hadn’t got bias against horror genre. Another acting revelation is Gordan “Čupko” Hajduković, former leader of Dinamo Zagreb fans who used to end up behind bars for various violent offences. He apparently lacks of acting experiences, but he compensating that by adding great deal of authenticity to the character and some of the scenes where he appears are the most powerful.
Some of that authenticity, however, might hurt the film, at least among the more squeamish segments of the audience. Juka doesn’t shy away from portraying graphic or disturbing scenes, whether it is violence, drug use (some of which involve little Dora) or sex. The bigger problem, however, seems to be the lack of tempo. With more than two and half hours, You Carry Me is a little bit overlong and sometimes it gives away an author too fond of her work to give it a proper editing. Ivona Juka, however, even then shows a great talent and when those two and half hours pass, the audience is left with a powerful film with impact that dwarves commercially successful yet easily forgettable Croatian films.
REVIEW: Narodni heroj Ljiljan Vidić (2015) January 20, 2016Posted by Dragan Antulov in Film Reviews.
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NARODNI HEROJ LJILJAN VIDIĆ
A Film Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2016
If British author L.P. Hartley had lived in today’s Croatia he wouldn’t have said that the past was a foreign country. Instead he would describe the past as the colonial overlord. While there are various parts of the world where the past, often very distant, has a commanding hold over peoples’ presents and futures, in Croatia such past tends to revolve around relatively brief four years of World War Two. Like in many other East European countries, this historical event was a nasty affair, marked by unprecedented destruction and wholesale butchery, most of it committed by Croatians at the expense of other Croatians. While many in present Croatia, including official political and cultural establishment, claim that this tragic episode is buried in pages of national history, it regularly rears its ugly head during elections when two major parties mobilise their voters not on the basis of ideology or policy differences but almost exclusively on the basis whether their ancestors fought on the side of fascist Ustashas or Communist-dominated Yugoslav Partisans.
This frustrating state of affairs haven’t been properly addressed by Croatian filmmakers, at least in post-independence Croatia (unlike Yugoslav days, when, even under the ideological and genre limitation of so-called “Partisan films”, there used to be something of a more critical approach towards WW2). One of the rare filmmakers brave enough to tackle this taboo was Ivan Goran Vitez, whose latest film Narodni heroj Ljiljan Vidić (“People’s hero Ljiljan Vidić” in English) deals with those issues in the form of a comedy.
The protagonist, played by Kristian Jaić, is a young man who lives in small Croatian village during WW2, being frustrated by poverty, small-mindedness of his fellow inhabitants and Nazi-backed regime of Independent State of Croatia (NDH). He finds solace in writing poetry and dreams of following the example of Vladimir Nazor and Ivan Goran Kovačić, great Croatian poets who joined the Partisans. Before he joins them, he is captured by Serb Chetniks, but the rescue comes in the form of small Partisan group led by Struja (played by Stojan Matavulj). He joins them and takes part in raid against radio-station which goes terribly wrong, resulting in Struja’s death and few survivors, including Ljiljan, having to hide in Zagreb. There they stumble into unique opportunity to end the war by taking part in talent show whose winners will have the honour of performing in front of Ante Pavelić (played by Dražen Čuček), Poglavnik (“the leader”) of NDH, and whose “surprise” guest at this event might be his main ally Adolf Hitler (played by Dražen Kühn).
Narodni heroj Ljiljan Vidić had something that could be described as success at Croatian box-office. Among the critics, not so much. This is hardly surprising, because it is far from the films Croatian critics tend to like. In other words, it is unlikely to score success at “serious” festivals being in the wrong genre (comedy) and dealing with the wrong war (WW2 instead of those that followed dissolution of Yugoslavia). Some of the criticism had somewhat better foundation. Ljiljan Vidić isn’t very good film. Director Ivan-Goran Vitez is relatively inexperienced and this shows, just like in the case of his previous film Šuma summarum (aka Forest Creatures), a not very coherent genre mix of serious thriller, sureal comedy and satire of dog-eat-dog capitalism in post-communist countries. Vitez mostly relies on the skills of his screenwriter Zoran Lazić, with whom he worked on Zakon!, short-lived television comedy show nowadays best known for being censored due to its acidic humour being too inappropriate for gentle tastes of public television viewers. Lazić provided film with relatively coherent plot structure, inspired by classic Bildungsromans and divided into chapters. Some of the more hostile critics accused Lazić and Vitez of borrowing too much from Quentin Tarantino and his Inglorious Basterds. The film actually leans more on the works of Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker, using their style of often absurd and sureal humour and replaying the technique of bombarding viewers with series of short gags of which some work and some don’t.
For the audience in Croatia (and most of ex-Yugoslavia) gags in Ljiljan Vidić might work, but for viewers unfamiliar with this region’s troubled history most of them would be incomprehensible. Vitez and Lazić not only mock some of the famous and infamous historic personalities from the past; they also try to deal with Croatian present with some of scenes trying to imagine how would modern day shopping malls, ATMs or reality television shows would look under fascist regime and with 1940s levels of technology. Some of the critics might attack some of the gags as politically incorrect, too crude and insensitive, especially among those who don’t look kindly towards comparisons between European Union and Hitler’s New Order. Neither would modern-day Croatian hipsters like the way their 1940s equivalent are portrayed in this film. At times, Lazić and Vitez lose inspiration and crude humour is replaced with unnecessarily graphic violence. Some of the jokes overstay their welcome, and one of the example is reimagining Yugoslav Communist leader Tito (played by Dragan Despot) as some sort of self-help guru.The director himself tried to justify some of those shortcomings in one of the interviews. He claimed that he had waited for a chance for new feature film so much that, once he got it, he used opportunity to fill into it as much content as possible.
Despite varying levels of humour and style, Narodni heroj Ljiljan Vidić nevertheless works. This is partly due to relatively unknown but very good cast. Jaić, whose looks resemble young Peter Sellers, is playing naive but well-meaning young man is such way to provides some sort of moral anchor for viewers who would otherwise detest his violent comrades. Tena Jeić Gajski, who looks very much like Hayley Atwell in Agent Carter, is also very effective as comical version of Partisan femme fatale. The film ends somewhat abruptly, but this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. In it, unlike the real life, the history it had mocked has ended.
REVIEW: The Cover Story (Naslovnica, 2014) January 16, 2016Posted by Dragan Antulov in Film Reviews.
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THE COVER STORY
A Film Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2016
Croatians these days don’t go to cinema much. When they do, it is usually due to some big Hollywood blockbuster, some over-hyped populist comedy or childen’s film that serves as good excuse for a family to visit shopping malls. Documentaries are the least likely genre to get average viewer’s attention in such state of affair. Croatian filmmakers are even less likely to do so, and that is hardly surprising, considering what Croatian film industry used to deliver to big screens in last quarter of century. So, having Croatian documentary as part of regular cinema repertoire is preciously rare occurrence which requires something extraordinary to happen. This being Croatia, an extraordinary thing is more likely to be something extraordinarily bad that extraordinarily good. And the extraordinarily bad thing is exactly what happened to the makers of The Cover Story.
The author of the film is Silvana Menđušić, Croatian journalist and former television repoter, who, among other things, used to be an editor of Gloria, country’s most popular women’s magazine. In her directorial debut she chose a subject close to her work – modern media and their, at times symbiotic, at other times abusive, relationship with celebrities and the way trivial stories and gossip take public attention away from more important subjects like politics and economy. Menđušić had the idea to tell this story from the perspective of one of Croatian tabloids’ favourite subjects. Dolores Lambaša was 32-year old actress who became famous by appearing in Croatian soap operas; she maintained her celebrity status due to her personal life or series of stormy romances, mostly with her male colleagues who were also few decades her senior. In small and, in recent times increasingly conservative, country, such lifestyle was perfect tabloid fodder but also brought many risks of making celebrity’s life miserable. Menđušić tried to portray such trials and tribulations by portraying a year in life of Dolores Lambaša, who apparently saw the project as an opportunity to present the public with more private and more authentic version of herself.
That was the idea. The life had something different in store for filmmakers. On October 23rd 2013 Lambaša was traveling at Belgrade-Zagreb highway in the company of her collague Stojan Matavulj. The car drove off the road and overturned. Matavulj survived, Lambaša didn’t. This tragic event brought another, macabre dimension of celebrity to Lambaša, but also faced Menđušić with a dilemma – whether to abandon or continue her project. She chose the latter option and documentary premiered few months later, apparently in much shortened form than originally planned.
The basic structure of The Cover Story is framed by the scenes shot shortly after Lambaša’s death. They are set in the newsroom of Story magazine and show how various reporters and editors try to make special edition dedicated to Lambaša and browse through apparently very rich archive of photographs made through the years. The main (and much larger) segment consists of footage Menđušić made few months before the accident which feature Lambaša. Some of those scenes show her working on her latest soap, dealing with various media, but also give a glimpse of her very personal life, including her own literary attempts, musings about career and apparent lack of culinary skills. Those scenes also show her increasingly frustrated with the way she is seen by Croatian public – as a “gold digger” and talentless social climber instead of serious professional actress. She tries to address this situation by talking to her friends and colleagues; some of them express frustration with apparent lack of serious opportunity and inability to pay bills by working in various provincial theatres and doing similar gigs. Lambaša apparently tries to turn another page in her professional career by appearing at stage and, before starting this new adventure, asks some of her older and more experienced colleagues for advice. Probably the most intriguing such sequence features aforementioned Matavulj who looks clearly agitated and provides some common sense words accompanied with series of profanities.
The Cover Story, even with specific circumstances of production taken into account, is a deeply flawed and utterly disappointing film. It is obviously unfinished and appears to be rushed into production for the sake of exploiting tragedy while it is fresh in minds of Croatian public. Menđušić, either afraid of controversy, lawsuits or accusations of sensationalism, fails to provide any meaningful context to her material. The viewers, unless they happened to be in Croatia in 2013 and had some familiarity to Lambaša and details of tragically short life, would completely fail to understand what was film about. Perhaps some day, probably in not so near future, footage made for The Cover Story will become part of more coherent and more comprehensive work that deals with Croatian media and society in the first decades of 21st Century. Until that happens, The Cover Story will not serve any purpose. Except as a warning to those few unfortunate Croatian cinemagoers who like to give a chance to Croatian documentary filmmakers.
REVIEW: 12 Monkeys (Season 1, 2015) January 14, 2016Posted by Dragan Antulov in Television Reviews.
Tags: 12 Monkeys, Aaron Stanford, Amanda Schull, Barbara Sukowa, Emily Hampshire, Kirk Acevedo, Syfy Channel
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SEASON 1 (2015)
A Television Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2016
The author of this review often experienced his own tastes and opinions clashing with those of his fellow cinephiles. One of the most extreme examples is Terry Gilliam’s filmography. For me, many of Gilliam’s most beloved or cherished films often look like a grotesque exercise of style over substance. This is one of the reasons why I consider 12 Monkeys to be the best of all Gilliam’s work and one of the best 1990s films in general; in it Gilliam was actually restrained and didn’t allow himself to endulge in unecessary spectacle at the expense of David and Janet Peoples’ script. That script was so good, so intelligent and so coherent that it is rather unsurprising to see it as a basis of a television remake.
The show, produced by Syfy Channel, in broadest terms follows the basic plot of the film. In 2017 cataclysmic pandemic, caused by ever-mutating viral strain, wiped out almost entire humanity, reducing survivors to barbarity in post-apocalyptic wasteland. In few little pockets of civilisation one small group of dedicated scientists managed to build a time machine and in 2043 launched a project with the aim of stopping the plague before it even begins. The mission is given to James Cole (played by Aaron Stanford) who travels back to 2015 and tries to locate the genetically engineered viral strain and stop the people who deliberately released it from their labs. Cole’s main clue is connected to virologist Dr. Cassandra Railly (played by Amandas Schull), who is, at first skeptical towards the claims of an obviously unsophisticated and unpleasantly violent stranger. Her doubts quickly dissipate and she begins helping him, having to deal not only with the often confusing side-effects and paradoxes of time travel, but also with increasingly complex mystery and sinister organisation called Army of Twelve Monkeys.
Inevitable comparisons between acclaimed feature films and television shows usually tend to favour the former. In case of Twelve Monkeys passage of two decades helped the show creators by setting new standards of special effects, production and storytelling. The show might not look like much, especially during first episodes, but the impression steadily improves. The plot takes place during two distinct periods – pre-plague (or “past”) and post-plague (“the present” or “future”) – with latter taking place mostly in interiors and the exteriors being the usual bleak post-apocalyptic settings that could be recreated without much use of special effects or some futuristic props. More problematic comparisons, at least during the first episodes, are between two casts. Aaron Stanford simply doesn’t have the same charisma and stature Bruce Willis had and it takes some time for his non-sympathetic character to develop. Amanda Schull, former ballerina best known for her role in Center Stage, is, on the other hand, looks too beautiful to be taken seriously as major scientist, which is the problem Madeleine Stowe didn’t have in the film version. However, by the end of the season, both those characters develop enough depth and chemistry for both actors to deliver credible and, at times, very powerful story.
While doing so, they are aided by equally powerful cast. Show creators make first major departure by switching the gender of a mentally disturbed character played by Brad Pitt in the film version; instead we get deliciously and, at times, menacingly insane character of literally mad scientist played by very impressive Emily Hampshire. Kirk Acevedo, on the other hand, gives another strong performance as Cole’s best friend and partner who also serves as his moral anchor and whose gradual transformation in the few last episodes of the season represent one of better twists in recent television dramas. The most impressive is, however, Barbara Sukowa, German actress who became famous four decades ago as Fasbbinder’s muse; in the beginning of 12 Monkeys she plays a character of cold, uncaring scientist which is hard to like and only gradually the viewers begin to warm to her while discover some very personal motives for her project. Sukowa is equally impressive while playing decades younger version of herself under heavy make-up, a task required by the script that deals with time travel but that could easily turn the show into unintentional parody.
The biggest asset of the show is, however, the script. It belongs to the “harder” strains of science fiction, or, in other words, takes the concept of time travel as seriously as such concept could be taken. So, time travelers, like protagonist, must act within frustratingly limited parameters of a single timeline; show creators, on the other hand, must pay extra attention to continuity with even the least significant details of each scene being consistent with what was only hinted in the timeline’s past or future. Apart from a single episode that briefly takes a place in an alternate universe, 12 Monkeys doesn’t dare to challenge so-called Grandfather Paradox, even if it means that the protagonists, despite their nominal mission actually can’t stop the apocalypse or prevent their loved ones dying in sometimes quite unpleasant ways (with new and more permissive television standards allowing for explicit violence, as well rather explicit language). Because everything in this show appears to be connected, discovering or anticipating such connections is something that could stimulate the audience and engage viewers’ intellects as well as emotions. 12 Monkeys also fits the concept of science fiction as the genre of ideas, and behind all the drama is eternal philosophical debate between predestination and free will. Rarely, even in today’s Golden Age of Television, we have opportunity to witness such debates in form of television drama. 12 Monkeys used such opportunity well in its first season and we might hope that such opportunity won’t be squandered in the second.
REVIEW: The Spirit of ’45 (2013) October 20, 2015Posted by Dragan Antulov in Film Reviews.
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THE SPIRIT OF ’45
A Film Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2015
One of the more universal human traits is a tendency to watch the past through rose-tinted glasses. So, when someone mentions “old times” during conversation, it is more likely than not that those words would be accompanied with “good”. In the sphere of politics, this phenomenon was usually associated with the Right. That would make sense, because it is usually the old people who are more conservative or afraid of younger generations’ potentially dangerous and catastrophic ideas. There are, however, even some people on the Left who are also prone to nostalgia. One such example could be found in Michael Moore, whose Capitalism: A Love Story presented surprisingly sympathetic view of Eisenhower era – period until recently portrayed by American leftists as incarnation of everything wrong in American society. Even more telling example could be found in The Spirit of ’45, documentary by Ken Loach, British filmmaker known as one of the more outspoken and radical leftists among in today’s cinema.
In this film Loach deals with the events that arguably represent the greatest achievement of British Left in 20th Century. In Summer of 1945, only few months after the victorious end of WW2 in Europe, British voters rejected Conservative Party of wartime prime minister Winston Churchill. Instead they enthusiastically embraced Labour Party which had explicitly named socialism in their electoral platform. New government of Clement Attlee in next few years implemented series of far-reaching economic and social reforms which included mass nationalisation of railways, coal mines, electricity and other public services and also introduced new system of housing and National Health Service, thus creating modern welfare state.
Loach argues that two things made this monumental change possible. First was war, which, by its nature, mobilised British masses into huge collective action; its outcome – victory over Fascism – convinced most young people that everything was possible. The other, even more important reason for Labour landslide victory were memories of interwar period, marked by poverty, austerity and, most of all, broken promises for veterans of World War One and their families. New generation simply didn’t want return to pre-war status quo nor it would allow that their wartime sacrifices be in vain just as their fathers’ had been.
The Spirit of ’45 tells this story through combination of documentary footage of the period and interviews with some of the people who witnessed those events first hand. Both segments are made in black-in-white, probably for the sake of consistency. The interviewed people, who are in their 80s – nurses, miners, workers – through various anecdotes vividly describe unimaginable poverty and hopelessness of pre-war period, the way impoverished masses began to organise through trade unions and Labour Party and, finally, how their struggle finally bore fruit in electoral victory and seemingly small changes that made their lives exponentially better. Many of those stories are quite moving and film is quite convincing and making its point, even for viewers who are aware of radical leftist that Loach wears on his sleeve.
Loach is, on the other hand, less successful when it comes to explaining why post-war socialist utopia failed to materialise or why Labour failed to expand on their ambitious programs. Some of the interviewees point to reforms simply being in the form of state taking over companies from private owners, while leaving organisation, practices and even some of the old cadre intact. Loach hints that the changes simply weren’t radical enough, just like in Land and Freedom, when he blamed defeat of Republic in Spanish Civil War on its leaders’ reluctance to embrace people’s self-organisation and self-rule.
The last part of the film shows what happened three decades later, with arrival of new Conservative prime minister Margaret Thatcher and how her government systematically rolled back all or most of post-war reforms. Public services were reprivatised, workers’ rights abolished, trade unions suppressed, sometimes with massive use of police power, like in the case of great mining strike. Loach also accuses modern Labour leadership of being too close to middle and ruling class, and forgetting their working class roots. This part of the film simply repeats what many leftist intellectuals and artists were telling about Thatcher and her years in past three decades and in many ways looks like Loach is preaching to the choir.
The biggest flaw of his film is, however, in what it failed to tell the audience. The Spirit of ’45 never bothered to show that Attlee’s Labour government lasted for only one term and that consequent Conservative governments actually accepted its policies, not attempting to change until Thatcher years. General consensus about post-war welfare state and Keynesian economy began to unravel only in 1970s. Loach doesn’t show economic and other problems that led British voters to turn to Thatcher in 1979 in a same way they had chosen Atlee in 1945. Because of that, The Spirit of ’45 looks incomplete or, to be more precise, it looks like a great story made small by all-to-familiar selective use of historical facts. It is still a good and at times powerful, documentary; as a history lesson, at least for those who don’t share Loach’s political views, not so much.
REVIEW: Inspector Morse (Specials, 1995 – 2000) January 4, 2015Posted by Dragan Antulov in Television Reviews.
Tags: Inspector Morse, John Thaw, Kevin Whately
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Specials (1995 – 2000)
A Television Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2015
It is rare to see television drama creators investing significant effort for their show end well, and it is even rarer to see them succeeding in that. Makers of Inspector Morse are among those few who could be proud of such achievement. Beloved British crime show provided its loyal viewers with one of the longest and, in the some time, most rewarding rides into sunset. This happened due to producers’ wise decision not to push its creative and other envelopes and to allow the inevitable to happen at slow pace. So, instead of trying to squeeze the end in the single season, Inspector Morse was ending for more than half a decade – in the form of a television specials, in other words, regular television films being aired made once a year. This allowed actors and staff to unburden themselves while Colin Dexter, the original character’s creator, had opportunity to wrap his story up through couple of novels, later serving as basis for individual “specials”.
The Way Through the Woods, aired in 1995, is based on Dexter’s eponymous award-winning novel. It begins like many Morse mysteries – with brutal incident that actually has very little do with the general plot. Convicted serial killer dies as a result of a prison gang attack, but not before recanting part of his confession and forcing Morse to reopen cold case and try finding the real culprit of young woman’s disappearance. Morse’s efforts not only create friction between him and some of his colleagues who originally investigated the case, but also reveal certain unflattering truths about local community and lead to more bloodshed and mayhem. The Way Throught The Woods is important because it adds another regular character to the show – forensic expert Dr. Laura Hobson, played brilliantly by Clare Holman. The most impressive part of the episode is the ending; it is extremely violent, uncompromisingly dark and utterly harrowing for protagonists, requiring the best performances from both John Thaw and Kevin Whately. Younger viewers are, however, more likely to notice Michelle Fairley, who plays character that could be in the same time described as very similar and quite different from Lady Cathelyn Stark in Game of Thrones.
The Daughters of Cain, aired in 1996, is one of the episodes with the least satisfactory ending. The actual murder mystery is never properly solved. The script by Julian Mitchell covers some important and rather dark topics like domestic abuse, terminal illness and inappropriate teacher-student relationships, but their general treatment is so casual and at times so lighthearted that it makes the episode look like a parody of Morse. Certain subplots and scenes actually don’t make much sense and appear to be in the show only to provide adequate running time. The only thing preventing complete disappointment and rising the general quality to proper Morse standards is acting. Tony Haygarth is impressive and menacing as violent husband, same as Brenda Brooks as his long-suffering wife. The best is Phyllis Logan, who plays one of the more unusual characters of the show, successfully making delicate balance between pathos and comedy.
Death Is Now My Neighbour, aired one year later, again shows that the plots were secondary ingredients to Morse formula. It begins with a seemingly random and senseless shooting and develops into investigation that reveals most bitter fight for the prestigious Oxford posts, blackmails and corruption that taints modern media professionals just like anyone else. The audience would probably pay little attention to the scheme which is both complicated and forgettable at the same time. Instead, it is the acting talent that glues them to the screen. The best example is veteran actor Richard Briers which portrays one of the most evil characters of the whole show, with impressive scenes in which he revels in his wickedness; yet he is not actually the conventional main villain. The episode also features Roger Allam in a smaller role; the very same actor would years later appear as Morse’s superior in Endeavour. The audience would also pay more attention for certain scenes that they waited for in previous thirty or so episodes. At the end, Morse, after many failures and disappointments, actually gets the girl and enjoys his long-deserved R&R. Most importantly, viewers finally get to know protagonist’s unusual first name.
The Wench Is Dead, penultimate episode aired in 1998, represents the greatest departure from the usual content of the show. There were episodes set outside Oxford, in different cities, countries (Italy) and continents (Australia), yet none of them was set in different century. The plot provides opportunity for that in a meeting between Morse and American historian (played by Lisa Eichhorn) leading to Morse’s investigation into 1859 murder and his attempt to prove that two innocent men had been unjustly hanged. This rather odd episode features some interesting and times delightful, albeit rather brief scenes of period reconstruction; the mystery is rather weak and quickly solved by Morse. Another unusual detail is absence of Lewis. The viewers would, however, pay more attention towards the reason which allows Morse to spend time researching ancient murder – his deteriorating health that would be the most important issue in the last episode.
The Remorseful Day, aired in November 2000, is the last episode of the show and one of the few that was actually conceived and meant to be the last. It is based on the novel in which Colin Dexter did what few of his fellow crime authors had done – actually killed his most beloved character. The fans of the show were most likely quite familiar with this detail, with the novel being published in 1999, a year before its television adaptation. The script by Stephen Churchill actually pays little attention to the murder mystery involving nymphomaniac (played by Meg Davies) who might had some prior relationship with Morse. Everything in this episode is under the shadow of the inevitable end of Morse – either through impeding retirement, in which he would be joined by his superior and friend Chief Superintendent Strange (played most movingly by James Grout) or through the years of alcohol abuse taking their final and brutal toll. Direction by film veteran Jack Gold is superb, and it could be best seen at the very end. The few scenes, during which actual police investigation suddenly loses importance compared to what happens to Morse, are among the most effective in the television history. The shot during which Lewis departs from his superior with a simple gesture and few words is heart-wrenching, especially considering that the life in this case followed art and that John Thaw died in February 2002. The end of Inspector Morse has set a high bar for memorable endings, just as the show in general has set a high bar for quality television.
REVIEW: Inspector Morse (Series 7, 1993) October 18, 2014Posted by Dragan Antulov in Television Reviews.
Tags: Inspector Morse, John Thaw, Kevin Whately
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Series 7 (1993)
A Television Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2014
One of great things about UK television shows is their flexibility, not only in a ways they are created and aired, but also in a way they tend to end. In case of Inspector Morse, the ending appears to have less to do with decreasing ratings or popularity and more with the general fatigue of the cast and crew. From 1987 to 1991 number of episodes per series was rising, making the task of maintaining high quality increasingly difficult. Seventh series, originally aired in the beginning of 1993, proved to be the last regular season of the show. Only three episodes were made, but those three kept the general tone and high standards nowadays associated with Morse.
The first episode, Deadly Slumber, is one of the more straightforward murder mysteries of the show. Although beset with usual red herrings, the case of a murdered physician is actually quite simple and Morse doesn’t have to work that hard in order to find the actual suspect. Brian Cox, actor who never fails to leave the impression, plays rather complex character – rough man with terrible personal grudge and who appears capable of a homicidal act, yet at the same also happens to be dedicated family man and prone to generosity. The rest of the cast is also quite up to the task. After the case is finally resolved – in rather simple way, uncharacteristic for Morse – writer Daniel Boyle and director Stuart Orme still have time for one of the most poignant scenes of the entire show. Because of that, Deadly Slumber is the best episode of the series.
Second episode, The Day of the Devil, is as close as Inspector Morse ever comes to “jumping the shark”. The beginning actually reveals the main villain who also happens to be one of the most frightening and the nastiest characters of the show. Devil-worshipping convincted serial rapist, played by Keith Allen, escapes from psychiatric hospital and makes his to Oxford, using carefully planned disguises. For most of the part John Thaw looks like his character was accidentally teleported into another fictional universe, one belonging to 1990s Hollywood thrillers about unstoppable and seemingly all-powerful serial killers. However, the episode gradually shifts to more familiar territory of red herrings and less obvious plots and motives. Allen, one of the more colourful British character actors, leaves quite an impression as embodiment of diabolical evil. His performance is, however, well-matched by actors in less flamboyant roles. Harriet Walter is very good as prison psychiatrist and villain’s presumed target, same as Richard Griffiths who plays very convincing priest and expert for the occult. The episode could have been much better if not for the ridicoulously over-the-top black mass scene that looks like it was borrowed from cheap grindhouse horror film. Thankfully, very interesting twist improves general impression, just like the ending that, together with the character of tough female policeman played by Katrina Levon, looks like homage to Silence of the Lambs.
John Thaw in prevous two episodes actually didn’t have much opportunity to display emotions. In the last episode, conveniently titled Twilight of the Gods, Morse’s character is again given opportunity to express his love of opera. This is provided by Welsh diva, played by Sheila Gish, who arrives to Oxford University in order to receive honorary degree only to be shot by a sniper during the public ceremony. Morse quickly overcomes the shock and uses his academic connections and experiences to determine possible motive and perpetrator. Just like in many previous episodes, he discovers that actual motive for the shooting have very little to do with the actual victim. Despite that, the audience, especially those familiar with certain traumatic chapters of 20th Century history, will relatively quickly connect the dots and solve the mystery. The episode is the best when it shows how the characters come to such conclusions, and the script by Julian Mitchell provides plenty of opportunity for lighter, humourous scenes, especially those dealing with members of diva’s entourage and their implied or explicit homosexuality. Acting is generally good, whether it is old John Gielgud in rather not that important role of university chancellor and very young Rachel Weisz whose character mostly amounts to nothing more than eye candy. Robert Hardy, on the other hand, is slightly over the top as vulgar media tycoon, although it could be said that his character was based on real-life (and equally flamboyant) Robert Maxwell. After this episode, Inspector Morse continued through television specials instead of regular seasons; however, if Twilight of the Gods should be seen as the finale of regular series, it should also be said that Morse ended on positive note.
REVIEW: Inspector Morse (Series 6, 1992) October 13, 2014Posted by Dragan Antulov in Television Reviews.
Tags: Inspector Morse, John Thaw, Kevin Whately
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Series 6 (1992)
A Television Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2014
Even the most successful television shows don’t last forever, and their creators and producers should be aware of it. Those among them who are truly responsible, sooner or later, begin to prepare audience and themselves for inevitable end, or, at least the major transformation that could be interpreted as such. One of such examples could be seen in the sixth series of Inspector Morse. Despite previous seasons never shying away from showing the private life of title protagonist, many details – his name, his past and his background – remained a mystery. Sixth series began to answer some of audience’s questions about their favourite television detective, probably reflecting creators’ view that there will be less and less opportunities to do that in the future.
Dead on Time, first episode of the series, explains why Morse, despite being, sometimes dangerously, attracted to women, ended alone instead of securing permanent female company through marriage. The answer to that question is given in the form of middle-aged, yet attractive woman (played by Joanna David, whose eyes and other features might be familiar to fans of her daughter Emilia Fox of Silent Witness fame), who happened to be Morse’s fiancee three decades ago. Occasion in which Morse meets his former flame isn’t the happy one – she happens to be involved in the case of suicide which, later, turns out to be staged, and reveals the series of tragic events and general misery that makes Morse’s lonely life quite happy in comparison. Despite high amounts of melodrama, Daniel Boyle’s script manages to make plot and characters quite believable. The acting is top-notch, especially in the case of John Thaw whose character finally snaps in one scene forcing Kevin Whately as his loyal, clear-headed and always dependable Sergeant Lewis to save the day. Dead on Time, despite its general bleakness, is one of the better episodes of the whole series.
Happy Families (whose title is more than obvious node to famous opening lines of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina) looks much worse in comparison. It begins with a rich industrialist and his dysfunctional family, made of characters – with exception of mother played by Anna Massey – who try very hard to make themselves as unsympathetic to the audience as possible. Viewers won’t be surprised nor displeased when they find most of them suffering violent ends before closing credits. However, just like most other Morse episodes with high bodycount, Happy Families is of inferior quality. The motives for murder, the actual murderer and violently melodramatic finale provide plenty of “deja vu” to experienced viewers. The general impression is helped only by superb acting.
The Death of the Self tries to repeat previous series formula by providing Morse with spectacular change of a scenery. This time, the trip abroad is more to Morse’s liking and the snobbish opera-loving detective not only has opportunity to visit pretty sights of Northern Italy but also to meet British expatriate opera singer played by Frances Barber. Unfortunately, the plot that provides an excuse for Morse’s adventures in Italy – possible murder among rich clients of British self help guru and former criminal – is rather weak and the characters look almost parodical. Not even the talents of Michael Kitchen, who plays Morse’s manipulative adversary, can’t help this episode.
Absolute Conviction brings the audience back to Britain, and actually begins in one of its less pleasant locations – a prison. Beginning, in which character played by young Sean Bean gets mysteriously trapped in his cell, clearly indicates that something bad and violent is about to happen. When it does, Morse is forced to investigate murder surrounded by some of the people he had put behind bars. Script by John Brown nevertheless uses opportunity for some socio-political commentary – the prison is minimum security, run by kind-hearted and socially conscious reformer who happens to be a woman; Morse has to deal with over-zealous subordinate who thinks little of bending law or respecting people’s rights; the criminals are fraudsters who symbolise the greed of Thatcher’s Britain. Just like in many Morse episodes, the trigger for violent events has little do with the obvious and the ending is melodramatically violent. The audience, however, might enjoy great directing by Antonia Bird and some fine acting, especially by actors who only later became famous, with Jim Broadbent as the most recognisable example.
Cherubim & Serafim, the final episode of the series, clearly puts the Morse in 1990s and shows how the world changed during previous seasons and it also provides so far the greatest insight into Morse’s past. The audience finally meets some members of Morse’s family; again, the occasion is not a happy one – suicide of his beloved 15-year old step-niece. Morse’s attempt to informally discover motives for such unexplainable act only leads to formal investigation, when similar cases point to experimental drug being distributed at popular rave parties. The plot is actually weak, but it serves as a good opportunity for Morse to reflect on his own youth and how the culture and general mores drastically changed, yet the adolescent angst remained the same. Morse’s musings on the subjects are presented through conversations with his trusted Sergeant Lewis, whose own children have grown and must face the same teenage ordeals. The plot resolution is weak, although it literally “goes with a bang”. The audience will, however, be pleased to find that scriptwriter Julian Mitchell recognised that Lewis can’t remain Morse’s subordinate forever and the scenes dealing with his Inspector’s exam clearly point that he would pick up Morse’s torch and become protagonist of his own show.
REVIEW: Inspector Morse (Series 5, 1991) September 13, 2014Posted by Dragan Antulov in Television Reviews.
Tags: Colin Dexter, Inspector Morse, John Thaw, Kevin Whately
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Series 5 (1991)
A Television Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2014
Fifth series of Inspector Morse faced show’s creators with the another challenge of sticking to the familiar and popular formula while providing audience with something new. The answer to that was apparently very simple. They decided to make Morse “bigger”. This was achieved in two ways – by increasing number of feature-length episodes from four to five and through larger budgets, that would become apparent in the last episode of the series.
The series begins with Second Time Around, episode that could be described as “standard” Morse mystery, with rather simple plot but very well-written and, what is even more important, well-acted characters. Violent death of veteran police official leads Morse to re-open the investigation of unsolved child murder and also gives opportunity to display protagonist’s liberal views on law enforcement and criminal justice (which could be interpreted as creators’ attempt to atone for Morse’s Dirty Harry-like antics in Series 4). Those views are highlighted thanks to the presence of Morse’s old and more conservative colleague, played by Kenneth Colley (best known as Admiral Piett and original Star Wars trilogy). His presence makes the episode interesting, together with dependable character actor Oliver Ford Davis (another Star Wars veteran) as one of murder suspects. Young Christopher Ecclestone also does very good job out of otherwise thankless role of a disturbed youth.
Fat Chance provides the series with one of the weakest script, at least to those who watch the show while expecting something like complex and intriguing murder mystery. It is also an episode in which the authors try very hard to wear left wing and social liberal views on their sleeves. It reflects in plot that connects struggle for female priesthood in Oxford with slimy entrepreneurs who exploit frustrations of overweight women and peddle dodgy slimming products. The way those two plots are connected is rather easy to guess and, actually, nothing much happens in the episode. The fans of the show, on the other hand, probably wouldn’t mind much. The acting and direction is very good and the episode turns to be one of those rare occasions in Morse when the titular character actually gets the “girl” – in this case played by charming Zoe Wanamaker.
Who Killed Harry Field? is an episode title that suggests lack of inspiration. Despite that, the script by Geoffrey Case successfully connects the subplots involving world of art with subplots of political corruption. The episode is also one of the first to acknowledge that Oxford with its ancient architectures and traditions didn’t completely stick to the past, and that at least some of its citizens got involved with Swinging Sixties. Much of the plot actually deals with the way baby boomers had to abandon bohemian lifestyle and anti-establishment ideals of their youth and had to (or failed to) conform to 1980s realities. Like in many Morse episodes, murder mystery is not as interesting as characters; the latter again provide opportunity for some fine acting. The most memorable is Freddie Jones as murdered victim’s father. On the other hand, the subplot dealing with Morse’s loyal Sergeant Lewis seeking promotion and transfer from his boss looks more a way to fill running time and ends rather predictably, since most fans of the show also happen to be fans of Kevin Whately.
Greeks Baring Gifts is a superb example of a murder mystery that allows scriptwriters to cover many different social issues. Script by Peter Nichols begins with a killing of a Greek immigrant cook that hints at multiculturalism in modern Britain and related conflicts to be the main issue. After a while Morse’s investigation and the plot makes a different turn and plot explores the conflict between the “old money” establishment and self-made entrepreneurs from working class. Experienced Morse viewers know that the resolution of murder mystery has little to do with both subjects, just like the presence of dark and sinister-looking James Faulkner (now best known as Pope Sixtus VI in Da Vinci’s Demons) as the most obvious villain points towards someone else as actual murderer. The end of the episode is one of the more melodramatic and one of the most disturbing; despite that Greeks Baring Gifts is one of the better written, directed and acted Morse episodes.
The season finale, Promised Land, represents greatest departure – both for Morse and its titular character. Death of imprisoned gangland boss and possible judicial review send Morse and Lewis to Australia in order to protect key witness who lives under new identity. This plot allows the most spectacular change of scenery – small town in Australian outback proves to be very different from Oxford, and the script by Julian Mitchell uses opportunities to explore many cultural differences. The best thing about the episode is a way it highlights differences between Lewis and his superior – while Morse, being high culture snob, doesn’t like common Australian cuisine or country music, his loyal working-class sergeant appears more in tune with the locals and their way of life. This also allows for a rare scene of male cop bonding between Lewis and his local colleague (played by John Jarrat). The acting in the show is great and the most recognisable face belongs to young Noah Taylor playing one of the more straightforward characters of his career. The episode ends with one of the more spectacular shots of the entire show, that connects the Australian setting with titular character’s love of opera.
REVIEW: Inspector Morse (Series 4, 1990) August 31, 2014Posted by Dragan Antulov in Television Reviews.
Tags: Colin Dexter, Inspector Morse, John Thaw
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Series 4 (1990)
A Television Review
Copyright Dragan Antulov 2014
Fourth season (or series) of popular television drama is usually the point when the show “jumps the shark”. The creators and producers are burdened with increasingly difficult task of satisfying the target audience with familiar plots and characters while avoiding repetition and boredom at the same time. Some shows avoid this trap, while some don’t. Inspector Morse, juding by its fourth series, did it only partially.
Four episodes (which are, actually, feature-length television films) continue to stick to the formula established in previous three seasons. The most noticeable difference in comparison with Series 3 is the absence of pathologist Dr. Grayling Russell; with her gone, fourth season lacks continuity and the main characters loses any excuse for not looking at other women. By that point, Colin Dexter ran out of novels for screenwriters to base episodes on, so it reflected in even more creative freedom. The episodes at times look very different, but their content at times succumbs to unnecessary melodrama and unconvincingly violent resolutions, just like in first two seasons.
The Infernal Serpent, the first episode, begins very promisingly and actually turns out to be the best. Death of an respected environmentalist minutes before the important public announcement leads audience to believe that the subject is going to be major scandal. Director John Madden dutifully plays to those expectations by providing some quite suspenseful scenes in which John Thaw’s middle-aged police official have to deal with black operatives and their rather unsubtle efforts at major cover-up. But, just like in most good episodes of Morse, the thing that triggers such course of events is coincidence. The real mystery Morse has to uncover is much closer to home and related to Morse’s old friends at Oxford University and their dysfunctional family lives. Like in many Morse episodes, music is an important part of background and the acting is superb, especially with Geoffrey Palmer as sinister Oxford don.
The Sins of the Fathers features rather weak and not very convincing “whodunnit”, which is, on the other hand backed by an interesting plot background, providing some insight into class differences and transformation of capitalism in late 20th Century Britain. The murders seem repetitive and too theatrical, but the general impression is again rescued by excellent acting. Veteran Lionel Jeffries gives great performance in the role of old patriarch, but the most impressive is Lisa Harrow as one of suspect’s wives (and not only in scene when she swims in her house pool in front of Morse’s ogling eyes). Director Peter Hammond, on the other hand, tends to show scenes through distorted glasses and lenses, which, at times, looks unnecessary and diverts too much attention from the actual plot.
Driven to Distraction could be best described as Inspector Morse’s attempt to emulate Dirty Harry. Plot, characters and even some scenes tend to resemble Don Siegel’s 1971 classic thriller. Oxford women become prey of a vicious serial killer. Morse, just like Harry Callahan, quickly finds the most likely perpetrator who is, just like Scorpio in original film, obviously and demonically evil (in this case, played by always, Patrick Malahide, always dependable in such roles). Morse during his investigation feels too burdened with paperwork and legal requirements so he decides to simply cut certain corners, even it means obvious breech of law and someone’s constitutional rights. In doing so he receives support from the character of female police detective (played by Mary Jo Randle) who is supposed to represent modern and “progressive” aspects of law enforcement. Driven to Distraction strays from Dirty Harry formula only at the end, in well-thought plot twist which is, unfortunately, wasted in rather directed scene of melodramatic confrontation.
Masonic Mysteries, final episode of the series, begins with Morse in romantic relationship with a woman who shares his love of opera. Experienced viewers know that this is too good for Morse to last or to be true and Morse’s girlfriend (played by Kevin Whately’s real life wife Madelaine Newton) predictably becomes murder victim. To make even worse for Morse, he actually becomes main suspect, which means that he will be investigated by Chief Inspector Bottomley (played by sinister-looking Richard Kane). To make things even worse, Morse appears to be victim of a diabolical set-up with everyone but his most loyal associates doubting his innocence. Script by Julian Mitchell drops hints about major conspiracy – echoing real life debates about undue influence of Free Masons in British law enforcement – but the resolution of mystery is even less convincing; Morse became target of psychopathic supervillain whom he had put away many years ago. Character, even when played by Ian McDiarmid (best known as Palpatine in Star Wars film series), however, fails to rise over the cheapest comic book cliches and the way episode (otherwise well-directed by Danny Boyle) ends is quite disappointing.