Tag Archive: Mark Kermode


Lo straniero directed by Luchino Visconti (Italy, 1967)

L’Étranger directed by François Ozon (France, 2025)

These two films are seperated by almost half a century but are otherwise quite similar in mood. The source for both is of course Albert Camus’s 1952 novel which in English is generally translated as ‘The Outsider’. This is a kind of ur-text for existentialism.

In the afterward to the novel, Camus wrote of his Algerian anti-hero Meursault: “One wouldn’t be far wrong in seeing ‘The Outsider as a story of a man who, without any heroic pretentions, agrees to die for the truth.”

This is a neat sound bite but ignores the not irrelevant detail that this is also a man who killed an Arab man for reasons that are never entirely clear. Being blinded by the sun is his lame defence in the courtroom. Such a state of confusion might have accounted for one shot after being threatened with a knife but doesn’t explain why he then fired four more bullets into the lifeless body.

The Arab is basically a clunky plot device with racist implications. Camus doesn’t even bother to give readers the dead man’s name. The man’s anonimity is carried through to Visconti’s film but is partially corrected in Ozon’s version which ends with an image of the victim’s gravestone. In both films the focus is squarely on Meursault depicting him as a suave, elegant man of few words. Marcello Mastroianni has such a natural charm that it’s hard to think too badly of him. Benjamin Voisin conveys to cold-hearted detachment more convincingly.

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What are film critics for?

THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE MULTIPLEX. WHAT’S WRONG WITH MODERN MOVIES by Mark Kermode (Random House Books, 2011)

10304270Spare a thought for lonely film critics in the age of streaming. They are an increasingly marginalized and, some would say, dying breed.

It’s not as if we really need them anymore. Often they just ruin our entertainment by over detailed reviews of popular movies. Either that or they wind up smugly enthusing about some obscure art house ‘classic’ that only they and a few of their buddies have seen.

Mark Kermode is one of the smartest and self-aware of this endangered species so is well placed to argue for their preservation. Continue reading

‘Twin Peaks Season 3 – The Return’ directed by David Lynch

twinpIt goes without saying that David Lynch divides audiences. His surreal visions of the world and the tall tales he weaves are never going to be to everyone’s taste.

The naysayers continually complain of the absence of linear narrative in his work, or point to the wilful weirdness, the stilted dialogue and the wooden acting. Actually, a lot of the time, all these criticisms are valid but what count as weaknesses in other auteurs turn into strengths in the Lynchian universe. Continue reading

TWIN PEAKS : FIRE WALK WITH ME directed by David Lynch (USA, 1992)

220px-twin_peaks_-_fire_walk_with_meIf Dune is David Lynch’s prize turkey, Fire Walk With Me, follows as a close second. It is significant that neither are included in the ‘select filmography’ in ‘Catching The Big Fish’, Lynch’s collection of anecdotal reflections on meditation, consciousness and creativity published in 2006.

After two seasons of Twin Peaks on TV, the plug was unceremoniously pulled by the network in 1991 to leave a sense of unfinished business. But much as I loved the show, the recent announcement that a new Showtime miniseries with Lynch at the helm is in the pipeline fills me with more trepidation than excitement. 25 years on, it will be tough to replicate the subtlety and surreal humour that made the small screen version so compelling

Further cause for concern stems from the dire movie spin-off of Fire Walk With Me. The wayward plot focuses on the events leading up to the murder of Laura Palmer leaving a trail of loose ends in its wake.

The movie substitutes cheap horror and seedy sex for anything more considered. Overall, you are left with the distinct impression that it is little more than an elaborate cut and paste job of half-conceived ideas. A bizarre cameo by David Bowie is one of many sequences that serve little purpose. Continue reading

THE ACT OF KILLING co-directed by Joshua Oppenheimer, Christine Cynn and an anonymous third person (Indonesia, 2012)

"War crimes are defined by the winners" - Adi Zulkadry (Indonesian death squad leader)

akillingA conventional documentary about the Indonesian death squads of 1965-6 would probably have used archive news footage to show the genocide and gone on to explain its impact on the families of survivors. I doubt that such an approach would have had the same impact and shock value as The Act of Killing.

Joshua Oppenheimer and crew (many working anonymously) adopted an altogether riskier, and more controversial approach whereby the perspective is switched from the victims to perpetrators.

It affords the murderers the luxury of reenacting in cinematic terms the murderous roles they played. These self-proclaimed ‘gangsters’ and warped freedom fighters were inspired by American movies so were more than happy to turn their real life horror show into a film.

Not surprisingly, giving a voice to such monsters has been attacked in some quarters. The Christian Science Monitor and critic Nick Fraser condemn the way these cold-blooded killers can glory in their bloody actions as though they were something to be proud of.

Killers acting as victims -  Adi Zulkardy and Anwar Congo

Killers acting as victims – Adi Zulkardy and Anwar Congo

However ,the majority of critics rightly recognise the film’s achievement. The documentary may have missed out on Oscars glory but it won the BAFTA and The Guardian named it as the best film of 2013 in all categories.

Mark Kermode, writing in The Observer, described the bizarre blend of musical, western and crime genres as being “insanely surreal and distressingly domestic”.

I confess that the purpose of the dancing-girls gyrating in front of large scale model of a fish was lost on me but the other sequences are terrifyingly unambiguous. The dismembering of a teddy bear to symbolise the slaughter of a baby in front of its mother illustrates how the killers’ barbarity knew no bounds. Continue reading