Donkeys

and Horses: A Free Jazz Improvisational Review

Ok, so this is for all you jazz nuts out there, we're going to try something different. No end destination in mind here just a few things I would like to discuss and we'll carve it as we go along. We're going to go round the houses on this one and create a sprawling freestyle piece. No restructuring or trimming down. Single take job. Hopefully, by the end everything comes out that needs to. Time to go full Ornette Coleman. Load up The Whale and EO on the 1s and 2s. We're going to take both of these on in this review.

Ah The Whale, now what on earth is this supposed to be? Initially, appeared to be a re-tread of Aronofsky's The Wrestler. Another father/daughter reconnection story. That bastard Yasujiro Ozu was always doing that. A Japanese fraudster repeating himself over and over with the same familiar beats and nothing new beneath the surface. Literally, every time I watch one of his movies, I think of Arsenal Fan TV favourite Lee Judges ranting about Harry Kane and screaming, "He's done it again, you fucking little bastard!". What is it they said about auteurs fundamentally making the same movie over and over?

After all, Hitchcock loved the old wrong man accused of a crime he didn't commit set up, didn't he? In his hands things play out a little differently though. Each time he used it as an opportunity to explore new psychological realms. Arguably, the first time anyone went so in to their own subconscious and revealed their own kinks. Hitch was a sleazy fucker. Known today as being part of clean classical Hollywood but if you watch his films back they are so perverse. Probably why I like them. Take the opening of Psycho for example. Gives you the date, the time, shots of the city and eventually lingers outside the window of a hotel room where two people are meeting for a lunch break fornication hook up. If that's not voyeurism, I don't know what is.

Vertigo another example. The scene when Scottie has Judy dress like Madeline. This is a story of man meeting woman, creating a false image of her and being completely shocked when the real image doesn't match up. Therefore, he cannot go to bed with her until she lines up with his fantasy. Creepy once you watch the scene back with that in mind.

Hitch almost gets away with it because his shooting style is so surreal with the potential for so many different readings in a way that could only be considered cinematic in the full sense of the word. Recently, I watched Marnie for the first time, which is largely considered one of his worst and most controversial. For a man who gained a reputation as someone always firmly in control of his craft for this project he was clearly out of control. Yet, this made it one of his best for me as it revealed so many darker shades to the man.

Finally, years and years of repeating the same plots, this one went the deepest in to himself. If his whole career was a game of diving in to his kinks and sexual fantasies, then this riot has to be one of his masterpieces. On set there were reports of him relentlessly pursuing the star of the film Tippi Hedren in a manner which was deemed to have crossed the line. Read one piece that said he even had the special effects department make a prop head of her for 'personal' uses and to my knowledge this piece of equipment never appears in the film. Lord knows what he was doing with that prop head.

Casting womaniser James Bond only added to the madness. The character that beds hundreds of women and deserts them all in a flash. Outside of that, Sean Connery is well known for his news interview where he exposes himself as a supporter of wife beating. All of this behind the camera malarkey found its way in to the movie and when you combine that with a plot dealing with the so called 'hero' character raping someone and childhood abuse, it's so outrageous. As Connery's character declares, "I've caught something really wild this time" I could feel that Hitchcock was leaning in to the camera and deliberately confessing this to me himself. It would be foolish though to make the mistake of calling this a shallow exercise. In being so extreme, it covers more ground about rape and childhood abuse victims than almost any movie in existence. Hedren gives an insanely good performance vocally transforming herself back to the harrowing event of her character's youth. Hitchcock's trippy flashing colours gravitate you towards a whole new headspace of thinking about the issues involved. We go deeper in to his mind than before. I wouldn't say I was offended but I was shocked by Hitchcock taking you to mental places only he can.

Why the Hitchcock detour? He's proof that an auteur can do the same storylines over and over but conquer new territory through the process. The fact he did it whilst working under the studio system as opposed to a lot of the independent cinema today is incredible. Working within the old Hollywood and still having a signature voice that came out increasingly over so over his career is something to be championed. Also, I definitely wanted to get it out there, I'm not resting until Marnie is considered on the same level as Psycho and Vertigo. At the bare minimum Rear Window.

Coming back to fraudster Ozu, his form of cinema bores me to death. Doesn't help that as part of Japanese culture they're always on the floor so the camera just remains very low to the ground and there's little variety with his camera positioning and the environments. Location wise, just like The Whale actually, much of the drama is centred around the protagonist's house and rarely leaves this spot. I'm a Kurosawa man, he was a Japanese director who knew how to keep the action and ideas flowing. This Ozu bozo is well respected because he's one of the original contributors to 'transcendental style', pretty much an off shoot slow cinema. Slow cinema being the most popular form of arthouse today. Is there a purpose to this approach of distorting time and studying boredom or is it solely lauded as an unmistakable alternative to the mainstream?

I wish slow cinema wasn't seen or accepted as a genre as it is today. Unavoidably, there's always going to pure forms that hold up but generally speaking it should just be a tool at the director's disposal for individual scenes when required. People have the same argument when it comes to long takes, in that the old oner in an action movie can make for a great sequence (Hard Boiled) but the whole movie doesn't necessarily have to be shot that way (Hardcore Henry). This logic should be applied to slow cinema and it should not be a norm or encouraged that directors get carried away. Take Taxi Driver, when Travis is at the cabbie hangout café and the camera lingers on a glass of water longer than commonly expected.

The extension of the shot allows you to experience Travis's dissociation from his surroundings. A co-worker tries to get his attention and continuously fails. This is just one scene of slow cinema in a movie that otherwise wouldn't be classed as slow cinema. Despite his unrelenting interest in the area, Paul Schrader could never manage true slow cinema for a full movie. First Reformed was intended to be so and couldn't manage it because the guy writes his characters so ferociously. They have these burning desires to commit terrorist actions. Far from a bad thing though, it means Schrader has created his own style in the arena. Post-slow cinema if you will, the equivalent of Hitchcock and David Lynch with noirs.

Slow cinema turns a lot of people off but it does have a purpose and can be great in the right hands. The logic behind it is that if you maintain a shot longer than natural it causes the viewer to mediate more on the actions and objects in the frame, bestowing new meanings and leaning towards introspection. It's all to do with perception and time. A perfectly legitimate tool that is unfortunately often abused and drives this stickler for economy crazy. If you can do it and immerse the viewer further then this is good. If you're just pointlessly boring your audience and losing them, I don't see the point in that. As is regularly the case it comes down to director's discretion and the practice itself is not necessarily the problem. A spade is not inherently a bad tool but an idiot can use it for the wrong job. As the samurai say, it's not the sword, it's the man in control of it.

Personally, I'm all for whatever the hell Nicolas Winding Refn is doing with it through the medium of television and continuing where Twin peaks left of. I refer to Copenhagen Cowboy and Too Old To Die Young, where he breaks up the high art slow cinema with these unexpected low art cheesy Kung Fu fights out of nowhere. No-one has yet written The Kelly Filmmaking Manifesto but this would absolutely be in there somehow. Incorporating a Roger Corman like stance of every so many pages there must be a Kung Fu fight. Why? Cause Bruce Lee is God and Kung Fu our religion.

This is the great potential for slow cinema in that it can disrupt rhythms and create jarring effects. In time, I'd like more of it to merge with so called low art genres like action however impossible it sounds. Ozu remains the bad side of slow cinema. He extends shots longer than necessary and anyone claiming 'transcendence' is lying in my book. So not only does this guy never develop his storylines to reveal more about his recurring themes, formally little changes either.

We all know Hitchcock used to have his characters casually talk murder (take a drink every time he does it) but even with that, he expanded formally too. Strangers on a Train had that one scene where they discuss killing together. By the time Rope came along, he took that to a new level by having the whole thing shot in the one take, maintaining the thrill of dark discussion. As though a record or document of criminality. A brief moment which will cost them forever. Filming this way preserves their final precious moments of freedom.

Aronofsky did little to convince me he had more to say about complex family relationships than what was said in The Wrestler. Always thought that was quite a wholesome movie but is it even that side that is the most interesting part of the movie? It's devotion to the 'low art' of wrestling was so admirable. I love wrestling. That tightrope of entertainment and genuinely dangerous sport with competitors giving their lives for their audience. A relatable commitment to craft, which won over even the biggest critics of the sport. Many wrestlers warmed to it showing the realistic side of the chaos in the ring with all the self-mutilation involved. Also, the fact he's picked up life threatening injuries along the way. These guys never had long life expectancies.

Another one of these great movies, which is very careful about its final frame. Picking one which immortalises its subject forever. A second later they could be dead but the director cements them as heroic and pinpoints their eternal action for how their audiences will remember them. Like Raging Bull, the protagonists attention to the ring has poignantly cost him his relationships outside of it.

Is it the very movie Barton Fink would wrote? Is it an incredible film that Aronofsky deserves high praise for or is it just sadly one of the only serious films about wrestling? More of a sad commentary on the way wrestling is still viewed and that no-one else has undertaken in studying it through cinema? Maybe it's time for less capes and more tights.

The Whale does not take the opportunity to immerse you in its world through the character's profession. It doesn't utilise that aspect at all. Unlike The Wrestler, any connections it does make between character and profession are insulting. Basically, abusing the roles that lecturers play in the development of students. No, I'm not referring to his relationship with one of his students. That was fine. What I am referring to is the way it forms this belief that academic essays are irrelevant, to be tossed out the window and what students should really be marked on is writing a few cringeworthy lines on how they feel rather than engaging in their subjects. Can they not blend such opinions in to their work rather than going to these really basic and minimal emotions of "Dear Sir, I feel sad today". Mental health is serious stuff and should always be addressed but this shouldn't mean dumbing down education.

A scene which summed up Darren Aronofsky's entire career for me is when the protagonist reads his daughters pathetic teenage ramblings in a notepad. He loses his mind because he discovers it's a Haiku. Thus, The Whale became the film Aronofsky detractors had always warned me about. A celebration of formal gimmicks in the place of meaning. The question then becomes is The Whale an accidental parody of his style because his overall message in this film is to do away with technique and get to truth, consequently exposing his creations as hollow because they are all technique? Or has he always been like this?

Confession time: with this mind I'd be apprehensive about revisiting his older movies. Movies which may have been a generational thing and those my age really took to. Nobody really wants to admit that someone they liked when they were younger is actually a fraud and has been the whole time. Unfortunately, it could well be true in the case of Darren Aronofsky.

Has anyone ever seen that interview for Black Swan? That's the one where Aronofsky gets visibly frustrated because he gets asked if Mario Bava (pictured top right) was an influence and he doesn't know who that is? Who makes a Giallo inspired movie and doesn't even get past Dario Argento? Those wanting to go that route Blood and Black lace is essential I'm afraid. Real dudes go one further and check out Lamberto Bava too. Do your research Darren and absolutely do not get angry when you're called out about it! We can let you off for some degree on the former as we're all learning but never the latter. Black Swan to a large extent was very similar to The Wrestler in being the same thing but a navigation of a more high art world, ballet dancing. Clearly though, as was revealed, when it came to his homework on the assignment he never got past Suspiria. Lazy from him that.

Requiem for a Dream taught us 90s/2000s kids all about framing and editing, diving in deep in to hip hop culture in the construction of the montages. Comparable in many ways to Trainspotting, not just cause they're drug movies but in the way those sequences are crafted. They're very of their time being assembled to fit hip hop and dance music beats. If you will, a '90s style assortment of orchestrated chaos in cinema. They're both very in tune with the direction music was going and they manufacture their movies around that stylistically.

A few years back, I finally read the original Hubert Selby Jr book and it became evident that Aronofsky hadn't really understand the social issues and the way the characters fit in to that world. He barely engages with that side, simplifying it and trivialising those aspects in favour of these impressive formally dazzling tricks of his. The book itself was more like a grittier version of Don DeLillo's White Noise. Drug addictions, dangers of television, capitalism critiques and supermarkets but in Coney Island. Strangely enough, White Noise also recently had a director butcher the book in his adaptation to the screen. Baumbach, I'm not quite sure DeLillo had mumblecore in mind when he wrote White Noise. Please stick to writing your own stuff and give us more like The Meyerowitz Stories, that was good.

My respect for Aronofsky's construction of images has also been wavering since I saw Perfect Blue. This could well be the finest anime has to offer being the Japanese version of Sunset Boulevard. Looking at the shots side by side (pictured above), it goes past influence and mere plot elements. The bath tub sequences are an exact match in Requiem and he doesn't just leave it there. Black Swan has so many lifted shots. He owes a lot Satoshi Kon, the director of Perfect Blue. Kon's comments on the 'homage' was, "it's a pitiful tale when the person being paid homage to has less name recognition, less social credibility and less budget to spend". Is there a point at which post-modernism ends and its simply imitation? This could well be it. Correct me if I'm wrong but shouldn't post-modernism be about creating new meanings from the older material? Disassembling and deconstructing to find new possibilities in art?

His shot and beat for beat narrative recreations don't really add much. Perfect Blue is very inspired by Sunset Boulevard as I mentioned but it has a distinguishable Japanese touch that is very modern. A very different kind of culture is depicted. In spite of the strong evidence illustrated, don't take this as a conclusion on the matter and proof that Darren Aronofsky is a no good shyster. There may still be a defence in his case but I would have to re-visit the films in question but as I've said, I'm hesitant to do so because it could well just topple his legacy. Consider this me just throwing things out there, going back to the beginning and trying to understand why The Whale is as bad as it is rather than firm statements.

Continuing his tradition of dedication to formalism over thematic exploration, he shoots The Whale in academy ratio to tell everyone he's making an arthouse movie but I'm not so convinced. The script and performances are absolute dog shite to the point this is closer to exploitation and trash. Had it been intentionally delivered as so, I might have enjoyed it but when the filmmakers are clearly lying to themselves about the package they're creating, it's very hard to do so. Honestly, I was shocked to find The Whale to have more in common with Limp Bizkit frontman Fred Durst's The Fanatic than I was expecting.

By that I mean in its whole relation to character and the way its director is carelessly treating them. As bad and uncomfortable as The Fanatic was in inviting you to laugh at a mentally disabled character's actions at least it was honest about it. Yeah, there was a hint of a commentary on the obsession with fame but was there any need for a blatantly mentally handicapped individual in that story? Durst was making a different kind of a movie for a different kind of crowd. One in which sick thrills go a long way and on that basis, it unfortunately succeeds. I didn't enjoy finding that film funny in places but as awful and offensive as it was, it wasn't the same deceptive act as what Aronofsky has done with The Whale. He may try to hide it with his academy ratio but he clearly finds his subject repulsive. Why else would he shoot him masturbating in grim fashion and sloppily shoving pizza down his throat.

Once the montage of aggressive pizza thrusting came in, I was like here we go again. This is a lot like Requiem's final montage to Cliff Martinez's modern classical banger Lux Aeterna. Aronofsky has a real knack for skipping getting to the heart of a character for getting right to their montage of pain. He doesn't care for the character back stories, all he wants to do is wheel the characters in, put them in the torture chamber and zap them with electric shocks. Get the next character in, repeat the process. Me being me, I could forgive a lot of this based on the skill of the assembly of the montages if he wasn't so self-absorbed in delusions of grandeur. Also, probably doesn't help his case that his greatest skill that I credit him for has come from copying another piece of work so literally multiple times.

Misery porn is a term that gets passed around a lot these days and often overused inappropriately. However, how else would you describe a man with no interest for substance or character motivation, viewing them as shells for the slaughter? If you leave out all the back story and focus on mainly wallowing in their pain, it's difficult to avoid such a label. Amusingly, when Aronofsky has delved in to the bible, he has picked the most depressing passages possible. Noah deals with God losing his entire faith in humanity and killing off everyone to cause the end of the world.

To be clear, I have no problem with Aronofsky latching on to darker material but let's not fool ourselves in to thinking he has anything to say when venturing in to this territory. He's the equivalent of a rollercoaster with cheap thrills, which doesn't bother me too much. I'm a thrill kind of guy. That experience can be exhilarating. The fact, he thinks he can pick up a few of the nerd's awards and earn prestigious acclaim from the suits whenever he rocks up in to town does. Lose that air of superiority, Darren. If you want to join the dark side, then truly join the dark side. We shall welcome you, brother.

Easily the saddest part of The Whale is that Brendan Fraser is undoubtedly channelling real pain in to the role. At this point, it is well known that he was a victim of sexual misconduct, leading to a mental decline that cost a talented man his career (we're all Mummy stans here). Some have criticised his casting with a fat suit. Not sure I can take too much issue with that because his traumatic experience did lead to a physical transformation in appearance. Maybe not to the size of the character in The Whale but I think it's fair game.

In the same sentiment as Short Round in the also awful Everything Everywhere All at Once, if this role gets him the popularity and acceptance for further roles in Hollywood, they're both great guys and I'm all for it. Literally cannot wait to see Fraser in Scorsese's Killers of the Flower Moon. It would be foolish though to deem this a great performance. He's trying, bless him but it's impossible for any actor to work with a script like this which calls for him to constantly repeat, "You're amazing!". That kind of surface level superficial positivity bullshit goes nowhere with myself I'm afraid. Was half convinced it was going to morph in to They/Them when everyone bursts in to a singalong of Pink's Fuckin' Perfect (the single lowest moment in the history of slashers).

Please don't take that as a dig at the Princess of Philly. We're fully aware that when she's coming up you have to Get The Party Started. Just as we're fully aware who the boss of Philly is. More of an attack on the context of how it was used within the scene and how it falls under the wretched Twitter algorithm cinema. Faster it fucks off the better.

Ironically, one of the big messages of the film is to retreat from the cold and technical and in to truth. As I previously mentioned, Aronofsky is incapable of this and the films demands to step outside of the cryptic constructions that come with academia to genuine honesty is so laughable. In doing so he uncovers his own inability to convey any real meaning like never before. Riding out the most basic of emotions. A director exposing his own flaws and weaknesses, does this sound familiar? What were we saying about Hitchcock on the subject of Marnie? Yet, when Hitchcock slips up, it somehow reveals more rather than less. Difference being Marnie's flaws took us further in to the director's subconscious and aided the material of the movie, whereas the Whale took us further away.

Brendan is trying to take us in to the soul of the character, in contrast his director is working against him in alternative routes. Their interests conflicting with each other and heavily damaging whatever good Brendan is trying to do. Returning to The Wrestler, both of these films take advantage of manipulating casting. They take the lead actors personas in to the movie. Mickey Rourke is a fantastic and underrated who before The Wrestler didn't have too many opportunities to prove that. Rumble Fish, Barfly and Sin City coming the closest he got to showcasing his artistry of the soulful washed up hard man. His tragic moment came when he thought he'd done a career best in The Thin Red Line as the main character and then fell victim to Terrence Malick's cutting room antics. Malick re-shaped the film in post and cut him out the picture completely. The Malick scissors, a fate bestowed upon numerous actors. Nothing to do with their acting abilities, the director just has an avant-garde method involving making the film in the post-production rather than on set.

As a result, this supposed career best performance was never seen on the big screen. Therefore, it always made me happy then that with The Wrestler he was able to have his moment and can serve as evidence of his strengths for the doubters who lower him to the status of a 'heavy'. He's that and more! In the Wrestler, he was portrayed as a man dedicated to his art and wanting to reconnect with people as a human being. Almost mirroring his real situation.

On The Whale, the lead actor's trouble outside the picture runs contrapuntal to the director's intentions. It does little with that which it brings in. Making it completely unnecessary and wasted. Hitchcock's genius was utilising his star's image on Marnie to work with the film he was making. The Whale doesn't do that. Aronofsky's eyes are on the Academy Awards rather than creating something life changing and challenging. He is content with doing the minimal amount of work to achieve his already shallow goals. Any director who concerns themselves with how the academy will take his work is doomed to fail. Court jesters and you remember what we do with them right? They may swoop all the awards come the season but they will also be forgotten about in a year or so. There's no longevity and any success is short lived.

Moving on to the other actors in the movie, what are they doing? Absolutely one note performances from all of them, which taken along with Aronofsky's exploitive sensibilities turn this in to one of those lousy rip offs of a belting '90s Michael Douglas erotic thriller jam. You know, the kind where logic is abandoned for dumb entertainment. Fear of the laws confinement is removed from the situation and all characters first decision at the hint of trouble is murder or sex. The filmmakers are too involved with providing the thrills for their audience rather than realism and I love them for it. They know what they are. They know what they're doing. They're not these old school noirs taking you on an existential journey. They get to the goods and they get to them fast. They are trash and they are great.

I see the same lack of nuance in the acting from Sadie Sink and Samantha Morton on this picture. Both of them just playing the archetype psychopath without creating believable characters. Whenever they appear, all they have to offer is threatening eyes and each time I'd be like, "oh there they are. The psychopaths have rocked up. These guys are psychopaths. They've got scary eyes. We've got psychopaths". Thoroughly stupid and hilariously so. Towards the second half, the film completely loses itself with increasingly ridiculous situations to keep the drama coming. It may have been glossed over to be an awards movie but underneath all that is the garbage. I wonder, had they stripped this off to what it really is, would this have made it more or less uncomfortable? There's definitely an offensive body horror hiding in here amongst the second rate exploitation thriller and finding it would inevitably in poor taste but at least it would be honest.

Out of nowhere, when it's nearly completely lost itself in the field of a 90s erotic thriller with everyone out to sabotage each other's lives with drugs and fuck each other over, it makes a last ditch bid at respectability by being a sugar coated corny Robert Zemeckis movie like Forrest Gump. Our obese protagonist, confirms his love for his daughter by walking towards her unaided and dying in the process. This is obvious from the unbelievably stupid decision to have Brendan Fraser floating in the air. There's something very much lost there in the final images. Sure, The Wrestler may have drifted from the family drama with its heroic final image but it cemented his love of the sport. Alternatively, The Whale goes on far longer than it needs to cementing nothing but silliness. In contrast, the genius of The Wrestler is that any silliness that occurs as a result of the heroic action are not shown and on some level don't happen. A few frames too many this time, Darren!

When the credits rolled up with Darren Aronofsky's name, I'm ashamed to say I let off a long snigger and burst out laughing at how preposterous it was. Reminded me of that in movie from Kaufman's I'm Thinking of Ending Things when 'Directed by Robert Zemeckis' flashes on the screen. An incredible gag that applies to The Whale. Pure parody. In another world where The Whale was not deemed a so called masterpiece, I might have ironically applauded it but given the support its received, it doesn't seem appropriate.

Concluding the strand on family relationships, Aronofsky and Ozu may be interested in the area but they're both frauds. Paul Thomas Anderson remains the king of that arena. Whether it's his runaways, strays and social outcasts bandied together by collective failure in Boogie Nights or the bastard son whos father failed to form any connection with him in his capitalist pursuit of greed and wealth in There Will Be Blood, PTA is the unquestioned master of family matters. Spielberg's generally alright too when he's not making films called The fucking Fabelmans. I'll leave it to those braver than myself to revisit Aronofsky's catalogue and have the final say on whether he's always been a fraud and fooled us all. However, we'll continue to champion his guerrilla spirit on Pi. That's the one with the mathematicians and religious nutcases not the one with the tiger.

Mentioning Ozu again takes us back to slow cinema. Robert Bresson is a fellow slow cinema director whom I hold with higher respect. This man uses similar techniques to Ozu with the extended shot lengths but he's far more playful. He manipulates all forms of narration (visual, voice over and written) to experiment with the concept of truth and perspective. He'll tell you something will happen via a voice over, he'll show someone writing about an event in a diary and then he'll visually depict the event itself. What's interesting is then what he does with the rhythm, how it'll still throw you off and leave you in a state of suspense and uncertainty at how reliable the information is presented. Finds multiple ways to reveal details in order to establish their authenticity and still finds a way to challenge the viewer.

This is exactly the part that captivates me. Ozu does not have this in his arsenal and so there is little effect in his style and it has no purpose. There's no outcome or pay off, it's boring. A Man Escaped is Bresson's masterpiece with Diary of a Country Priest and L'Argent on the next shelf down. Pickpocket and L'Argent make use of his repeated close ups. L'Argent the stronger of the two as it uses his style in a wider sense to emphasise that money is more than currency and what happens when it changes hands. Instead of a Scorsese movie, the transition isn't slick, it's cold and mechanical. It captures class at each level the bills are exchanged.

Don't let L'Argent being a late career effort put you off, Bresson's resentment for society's diminishing values still shines through. In Au Hazard Balthazar, Bresson switches money for a donkey. Currency swapped for goods. At each turnover of owner, society loses a piece of itself. Beautifully shot and economical as any of his films but is there a human quality missing? Isn't that also the point to focus on the suffering of animals and the loss of humanity? To say I've strong answers here would be an understatement. Although well established as one of the best films of all time, it continues to ricochet around the walls of my head and refuses to settle.

Bergman's comments on the film were: "this Balthazar, I didn't understand a word of it, it was completely boring to me...a donkey to me is completely uninteresting but a human is always interesting". Godard's thoughts counter this with, "everyone who sees this film will be astonished. Because this film really is the world in an hour and a half". So which is it? The premise has always had potential to be laughable with it basically being a high art Babe. On paper it could well be a plot for a silly kids animated movie. However, there is no denying whilst there is no central human protagonist, the decline of humanity is still visible. Since so much of the information is revealed visually, it is a film to be watched over and over to unlock its full mysteries.

Unhinged urchin Todd Solondz once made his contribution to animal cinema with Wiener-Dog. An excuse to tell an anthology story with each new owner. Unlike Bresson, its director doesn't care too much for his creature, seeing it more as a macguffin to connect the characters. A term made by popular by Alfred Hitchcock of all people, referring to a device that has great purpose to the plot but in itself no significance. Usually used in spy movies to drive the action. Think the Rabbit's Foot in Mission Impossible 3. By the end, Solondz kills off the poor doggo by having it run over brutally multiple times, grinding it in to the tarmac, until it can achieve its next cinematic role as Flat Stanley. Most definitely, a moment of black comedy that proved a little unforgivable for some critics. As soon as he has no use for it, having finished his story, the logic is that the animal has to go. Give him a break, at least he helped get the dog his next casting role. It's hard out here for dogs in Hollywood.

Do I need to remind you, no dogs were harmed in its production? Back to Bresson. His animal plays more of a central role than a simple plot device. A passive observer forced to endure suffering. Therefore, the donkey is elevated to a Christ like status or divine figure. The very animal used to traverse in to Nazareth so already there is holy status. This donkey is God's final bridge to us all, his final call and the connection is severely lacerated in our treatment of this gift. In similar fashion to the biblical story, we fucked it up. Yes, we sure made an ass of him. There had to be a donkey joke somewhere, I'm afraid. As opposed to Aronofsky, the severing is explored and we do not just lazily skip to God's wrath.

Recently, one of Poland's greatest directors Jerzy Skolimowski loosely remade Au Hazard Balthazar as EO. Previously seen about 3 of his films. The Shout is a gem of a movie. A British cult classic that plays like a cross between Stephen King and Martin McDonagh. On look alone, Deep End could well be a Giallo but it chooses to be some nonce shit. Very overrated but it does have a cracking sequence to Can's Mother Sky, where a kid buys multiple hot dogs and slithers through the sleazy underbelly of '70s London. Out of the three, Moonlighting is the magnum opus.

How to even describe Moonlighting? A twisted social drama? A dark comedy? Jeremy Irons is a Polish contractor leading a bunch of workers to do an illegal job in London. They're called in to fix up a house as it be cheaper to fly them in than using English workers. Business isn't included in their visas so they cannot make it obvious. It humorously opens with them sneaking the tools in to the country in compartments of bags. During their stay, the military coup occurs in Poland and they can't leave. Problem is they only come over with about a grand. Wanting to get the job done and destroy 'morale', Irons chooses not to tell them about their exit route being off the cars due to the political turmoil. A reasonably easy task because he's the only one of them who speaks English.

Over the film, he resorts to all sorts of sketchy plans to keep the boys alive such as robbing bikes and running turkey scams on the local shop. Soon as the alcohol comes in along with Hans Zimmer's early electronic score (his debut), it slips in to the psychedelic with a creepily unresolved ending. Effortlessly political at the same as being an accessible black comedy thriller. The part when they buy a cheap telly that cuts out during a Liverpool match and vent their frustrations by hammering the walls down to Hans Zimmer Black Rain style is a highlight.

Now in 2022, at the age of 84, Skolimowski has given us another classic. Despite EO and Au Hazard Balthazar both featuring donkeys, they are actually quite different. Whereas, Bresson's film is operating on a transcendental style, Skolimowski's film is working towards one. One could call it a fan being interested in someone's work and discovering more about their influence over the course of the movie by emulating the style. A loving homage to the master. Naturally, Skolimowski's films is more emotive. Not sure anyone has ever been as cold, technical and precise as Bresson. This causes Bresson's film to be predetermined and calculated with the outcome. Mind already made up and so this arguably reduces the impact.

EO serves as The Last Temptation of Christ counterpoint to the classic tale. The switch is flicked slightly and we see less of the divine figure and more of the human side. This adjustment has always made these characters more adjustable to me. There's a point at which you just switch off slightly because there's no sense of struggle when someone is practically invincible. EO's donkey is more susceptible to his environment and so we get more from his perspective. He starts off closer to a real character rather than a symbol. Notably though, by the final frame that's when he becomes a symbol. A near martyr. Another fallen brother, way harsher than anything Bresson had in mind. Lands better. There's the sense of a real journey with Skolimowski's version where you reach an end point rather than starting at one. If you take in to account the two stories and styles, EO then becomes something of a prequel both narratively and thematically.

Fully welcoming of EO's modernised elements. We're hit with a bunch of things Bresson didn't have access to in his day. We're talking drone shots, metal songs, lasers and 2001 Jupiteresque sequences. Without a doubt the same person who was interested in snapping up a pre-film fame Hans Zimmer and commissioning him to test out electronic scores. To go back to Hitchcock and make the relevant comparison, the equivalent here would be Vertigo and Déjà Vu, to mention that silly Tony Scott banger once more in this issue. Albeit, EO has a slightly less ridiculous plot and doesn't grapple with the constraints of time travel and the studio demand for a happy ending. Aside from that, the idea is the same, riffing on a classic with the new technology available. My man Skolimowski even gets his love of football in there when EO becomes an ultra. Full scarf and everything. Unfortunately, this doesn't last too long as a bunch of nasty hooligans beat up our beloved donkey. If there is a hell, I hope these guys are in it and when I eventually end up there with them, I will make it my duty to see that they are punished adequately. You have my word on that. No-one fucks with EO.

Folks, we've talked about whales, we've talked about donkeys, we shall now turn out attention to horses. Equines. The big beasts of the west that helped out the cowboys and continue to serve ranchers. Their legacy has been damaged by horse girls but besides that these are delightful beings worthy of respect. It is time to reclaim them. Sell your cars, throw away your bus passes and buy a horse. Actually, maybe not if The Turin Horse is anything to go by. Put off watching this masterpiece until the other day. Despite seeing traces in films of transcendental style over the years, this film proves it does in fact exist and this could be the best way to use it for the entire run time of the movie.

Bela Tarr's (no relation to Lydia) The Turin Horse opens with an unproven story from 1889 about how philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche witnessed the whipping of a horse in Turin. The story goes that he stepped in between the victim and its abuser, wrapping his arms round the horse's neck and weeping until he lost consciousness. Said event was meant to be so traumatic Nietzsche suffered a mental breakdown, which he never recovered from and never wrote again. Big fan of using rumoured stories and biblical tales to set the tone of a movie (A Serious Man being a memorable example) so this went down a treat with me.

Our director was also not far from the end of his lifespan too with this being his concluding chapter and final film. He uses this anecdote to leapfrog in to many of Nietzsche's ideas. Be prepared to stare death in the face watching this. The death of the characters. The death of God. The death of humanity. It's an invitation to see what Nietzsche saw. To stare in to the abyss and firsthand experience how his thinking came about. Unlike that clown Aronofsky, this pushes deeper in to how the death of humanity comes to be rather than merely jumping in to the apocalypse. Step by step you witness the plummet.

How best to show the aging process and gradual turn towards the end of the days than through slow cinema? In his book Sculpting Time, Tarkovsky wrote that, "I think that what a person normally goes to the cinema for is time: for time lost or spent or not yet had. He goes there for living experience; for cinema, like no other art, widens, enhances and concentrates a person's experience –and not only enhances it but makes it longer, significantly longer"

Furthermore, in Hitchcock/Truffaut, Hitch himself states, "The ability to shorten or lengthen time is a primary requirement in filmmaking". Already made mention of how slow cinema is about the manipulation of time using techniques in editing with regards to shot durations. Tarr masterfully orchestrates these to capture slow deterioration. In this instance, the style and set up meet head on giving each other new meaning and justification.

The Turin Horse's brilliance lies in how it focuses on style to express its ideas. Throughout, there is very little in the way of dialogue and little is explained narratively. In fact, the film is very much anti-narrative mainly consisting of mundane actions such as cooking potatoes, gathering water from a well and staring out windows. When you repeat actions like this, after a while the slightest occurrence outside the routine is terrifying. The simplest of actions given the greatest weight. An unexpected knock at the door could be death and his horse drawn carriage ready to take you away. Similar in effect to Jean Dielmann, the house wife who's chores don't go as planned and her life falls out of balance, except with that film it establishes what it sets out to but doesn't maintain it. My question at the end was ok, you've made your point but is there a reason for it being this long?

On the other hand, The Turin Horse maintained its sense of doom and I was immersed for the full length. Slow brooding music may have helped. A big no no for some slow cinema purists but fuck them. What's good is good, right? Tarr found the contemplative state he wanted to take you with precision. He only has 30 shots in the entire movie across 155 minutes and each is meticulously controlled. This then leads in to the argument of how long is the correct length of a shot to both establish meditation and maintain? Is this subjective or is there an accurate collective human measure? Is it an exact science? An obsessive study of the compositions involved basically becomes fucking math rock for better or worse.

Where I'd defend The Turin Horse would be in the same way as I'd defend Bresson. They're icy cold craftsmen but there is a meaning to what they do. In The Turin Horse, I think I have found transcendental style in the purest sense. Some say this belongs to Deyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc and they might be right, I'd have to revisit it with the style in mind. However, The Turin Horse is the first time I've been convinced by it. Whilst I haven't read much in the way of Nietzsche, through the form I was able to feel all his ideas successfully and get the meaning. A spiritual/religious experience on the nature of God not through the substance of the text but through a specific style.