Archive for Jason Clarke

Heydrich Heydrich heydrich Heydrich

Posted in FILM, literature, Politics, Television with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 13, 2017 by dcairns

“Stop the film!”

HHhH is an excellent novel by Laurent Binet, telling the story of the rise and assassination of Reinhard Heydrich by two Czechoslovak patriots parachuted back into their homeland by the Brits. What makes the novel distinctive, and almost not a novel at all, is (a) the author’s fidelity to all the known facts, and his commentary on this fidelity — his refusal to imagine ANYTHING, or at any rate his disgusted self-denunciation whenever he does, part of (b) his constant commentary on his own process, and his reluctance even to accept dialogue quoted by sources when it sounds implausible. In such cases, he can offer a fictional version that strikes him as more likely, but he still has to denounce himself for making stuff up. In a way, it allows the author to be attractively modest — in the face of the heroic acts of the Czech and the Slovak, who knowingly sacrificed their lives out of certainty that their cause was just, Binet offers his own uncertainty, self-doubt, vacillation.

So we started watching the recent movie ANTHROPOID, which takes a piece of this story — just the mission, starting from the moment the heroes drop from the skies — and serves it up as a grim-faced and desaturated spectacle. It’s certainly because I’d just read Binet’s book, but I was intolerant of the movie’s mucking about with historical fact. Right after landing, our humourless, characterless heroes (a far cry from the rather jaunty, romantic figures Binet gleans from the historical record) run into a traitor and have to kill him to escape betrayal. In fact, the agents were discovered by a gamekeeper, who helped them. So the movie has gained an action sequence, albeit a very familiar one, presented in a shaky, muddy way by director Sean Ellis, but has lost a moving scene of an ordinary man risking his life for a noble cause, which is the kind of scene war movies used to live on.

I felt, personally, that the filmmakers had departed from the facts in order to offer something LESS INTERESTING.

Likewise, the presentation of Kubis and Gabcik, played by Christian Grey and the Scarecrow, as emotionless killing machines seemed like a less effective choice than Binet’s. The movie has a far shorter emotional distance to cover if the characters are already miserable, implacable, devoid of light and shade. They’re going to be spending quite a lot of the film staring death in the face. Will we notice any difference in their mood?

Incidentally, when they jumped from the British plane, the real Kubis & Gabcik landed, Binet tells us, in a graveyard. Ellis and co-writer Anthony Frewin eschew this. perhaps for fear of seeming to indulge in symbolism. But it really happened! It would be an interesting challenge to include this WITHOUT making it look symbolic. But, to be fair, I have no idea how this could be achieved.

When the film forgets to do wobbly sepiatone, it occasionally delivers beautiful shots, and the action scenes are pretty effective, but it has no humour and no gradation of tone. The task of creating characters defeats the screenwriters. A “poetic” touch at the end is brave, but seemed unearned, hokey and basically disastrous to Fiona & I.

Binet’s researches uncovered previous novels and films about these incidents. He’s impressed by John Carradine’s perf as Heydrich in Sirk’s HITLER’S MADMAN, which I wrote about here. A good B-picture ruined by the infusion of MGM class, was my harsh verdict, but I agree about JC. Beginning with the assassination, the film concentrates on the extermination of Lidice in retaliation. The movie’s biggest distortion of history is to stage the assassination at Lidice and not in Prague — surely the location of the incident was one of the few things known for certain at the time? But the filmmakers, it seems, couldn’t follow the Nazis’ logic — why was this random village chosen? So they had to invent a reason, when in reality there was none.

The most artistic responses to the incident in film are Humphrey Jennings amazing THE SILENT VILLAGE, which imagines the fate of Lidice befalling a Welsh mining village — aiming to de-exoticise the tragedy, to literally bring it home to British viewers; and Fritz Lang’s HANGMEN ALSO DIE!, a wholly fictitious account of the assassination and its aftermath. Binot is very forgiving of Sirk and Lang (and their writers, including “Bert” Brecht), allowing that the true facts weren’t known at the time and filmmakers had to just make stuff up — the good filmmakers did this thrillingly.

HANGMEN deserves a wholly entry on its fantastic rogue’s gallery of gloating Nazi pigs.  It’s a masterpiece. Binot rightly credits some of this to Brecht’s excellent, made-up story. It particular, it has a fruity and vile Heydrich played by Hans Heinrich von Twardowski (CALIGARI, CASABLANCA) in a joke shop nose. I don’t think anyone’s ever seriously alleged that Heydrich was gay (it was getting engaged to two different women at once that got him drummed out of the navy, leading to him joining the Nazi party), but that seems to be how Twardowski is playing him. Heydrich DID have a very high voice, according to Binot, but nobody’s ever played him that way. It might seem silly. Probably the only way to pull it off would be to hire an actor already known for having a high voice, so it didn’t seem so much like an artistic choice — because there’s no way to make it clear to the audience that you’re being factual here.

Another Heydrich perf Binot admires is Kenneth Branagh’s in the 2001 TV play Conspiracy. Branagh plays to his strengths — his Heydrich is warm and matey, a little overbearing with it, but he comes on like everyone’s chum, making opposition difficult by his air of affable reasonableness. As Binot says, there aren’t really any accounts of Heydrich that stress chumminess as one of his qualities, but the effect is very disturbing. The whole show is terrific — Loring Mandel’s script mostly sticks to things the actual Nazi high command said on the record at Wannsee, plotting the Final Solution, and in the unrecorded conversations between bouts at the conference table he draws heavily on other conversations they are known to have had. And there’s none of the wretched “As you know…” style of exposition we’ve grown sadly used to in British drama.

(STARTED watching MY WEEK WITH MARILYN with friends. The cackhanded exposition was so pervasive and dumb (Fiona says the film gets better later) that I coined the phrase “As you know, I’m your father,” and after a few real examples of this kind of writing we almost convinced ourselves that it was an actual piece of dialogue. I’m not sure I want to blame Adrian Hodges, the credited writer, because this is exactly the sort of thing execs the Weinstein Bros would insist on being included. They honestly believe the purpose of having characters is to explain things to the audience.)

Binot seems to have missed OPERATION: DAYBREAK (why the colon?), directed by Lewis Gilbert and adapted by Ronald Harwood (THE PIANIST) from the novel by Alan Burgess, which he does know about. The film is pretty factual, it seems to me, though aesthetically quite dull, apart from the odd choice of David Hentschel’s synth score. It has a fine Heydrich, Anton Differing (he of the combustible behind) — at last, an actor with a big enough nose! I remember the film itself being a little boring, which is odd given the authentic life-or-death stakes involved.

And now there’s a film of HHhH (you wait ages for a Heydrich and then two come along at once), which I guess, following my practice of capitalising film titles, I will have to call HHHH. An awkward title either way. (Binot writes that if the book we’re holding isn’t called Operation Anthropoid, we’ll know his publisher won the argument.) The acronym stands for the German version of the phrase Heydrich Is Himmler’s Brain (which is the small H?), and not for Heydrich Heydrich heydrich Heydrich, as I may have inadvertently given you the impression. This was a popular “meme” in the Czech Protectorate, before they knew what memes were. I guess it’s precisely the fact of Heydrich being Himmler’s brain that made it such a damn good idea to kill him.

The film will have to live up to the book’s high standards of accuracy, though frankly it CAN’T — it will have to invent conversations and present them without apology or comment (I’ll be impressed as hell if it attempts anything as pomo or self-critical as the book — it just won’t). It seems to have a pretty good Heydrich in Aussie Jason Clarke, although oddly he’s doing it with an English accent and all the others are putting on German accents. Playing characters who in reality would be speaking a different language, and doing them with a mild accent, always struck me as silly. Although here we have Stephen Graham looking like a VERY good match for Himmler, and I guess if he’d played it with his native Liverpool accent, that would have been unacceptable. Though not to me, because I delight in marvellous variety.

(Graham is a smashing actor and a master of accents. He plays cockney in the recent series Taboo. Tom Hardy is playing the lead role as a very good impersonation of Oliver Reed — only Keith Allen has done it better. So Stephen Graham comes on as the late Bob Hoskins, not to be put down. The more Hardy bats his eyelashes and whispers in a threatening growl, the more expansive and waannafow Graham becomes. You may not recollect that Hoskins pronounced “wonderful” as “waannafow,” but take it from me, he did. It was part of what made him so waannafow.)

Have I missed any good Heydrichs? What are your favourite performances of members of the Nazi command, if you have any? Oh, I know… Goebbels is always good value. But let’s look BEYOND GOEBBELS…



Sudden Chimp Act

Posted in FILM, Science with tags , , , , , , on July 28, 2014 by dcairns


Fiona is to blame for dragging me to see DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES but to be fair I did enjoy the previous film in the series. It’s a thoughtful study of revolution (evolution being too slow for Hollywood), showing the painful necessity to throw off one’s oppressors and the violence that results. The climactic battle is both terrible and exhilarating.

Unfortunately, DOTPOTA is not as thoughtful as ROTPOTA, though it would like to be. The screenwriters of the first film pretty much set up this sequel in the first film — what else could it be about but a battle between more or less evenly matched human and ape forces — this makes it both closer to the J. Lee Thompson BATTLE FOR THE PLANET OF THE APES than ROTPOTA was to any of the previous ape films, and means the moviemakers have a challenge to stave off predictability. Unfortunately, the original writers have been rewritten on this one, and the resulting scenario plays out as something much mucked-about-with. Major characters (the woman, the kid) have incomplete, trailing character arcs — they disappear from the action when no longer needed. There are lots of scenes with no dramatic content at all, which are supposed to be character-building but just consist of sedentary figures exchanging backstories. And in terms of body count, there are no casualities that mean anything, no losses that the audience can truly regret. This weakens the anti-war message — though not as badly as the ending, where the quest for a bad-ass one-liner for Caesar results in him making the kind of statement one associates with Nazism, denying that his enemy is a member of his species.

As in Tim Burton’s happy idiot version, the bad ape is the whole show: Toby Kebbell is far more ape-like “as” Koba than the anthropomorphized chimp-lite “played” by Andy Serkis. This is also somewhat problematic, since we have a film that wants to preach tolerance but the bad guy is convincingly “other” and the good guy is made to be more like us. It’s like making a civil rights drama with Michael Jackson as hero and, I dunno, Bill Duke as villain.


Visually, the film does have pleasures — the animated apes look generally photographically real most of the time, a major advance on the previous movie (and they get more screen time and there are more of them) and director Matt Reeves pulls a couple of neat tricks — a long-take hand-held hide-and-seek in City Hall (though it’s not as impressive as a similar extended shot in True Detective) and a 360 from a rotating tank turret that almost made me wish I’d shelled out for 3D. But it’s actually a surprise when these tour-de-force moments appear late in the day, since the coverage has been rather conventional until these points.

Since the sequel to the prequel/reboot is more of an action movie, it helps that it has a more effective human lead than James Franco, whose character had to pretty much fail at everything he attempted, and couldn’t even fail valiantly. Here, Jason Clarke gets to put his life on the line for the sake of peace, early on: a striking, genuinely heroic and noble act which buys him quite a lot of credit in my book. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get a single memorable line or unusual, human reaction to the crazy situations he finds himself in, and his backstory is vague and uninvolving: bereaved, like all the humans, but not of anyone we can picture or care about. This wooliness about all the emotional ties that are supposed to matter to the characters stacks the shooty-gun side of the film way higher than the touchy-feely side. I didn’t feel ANYTHING, and actually the previous movie is very emotional — almost unbearable at times.

Here are Fiona’s thoughts, via her own word-writings —



Those were David’s word-writings, transposed from his very own brain, now here’s my chimpcentric (They take up most of the screen time. Sorry gorillas and orangs) opinion as the Shadowplayhouse’s resident armchair primatologist. And that may be the reason why my response to the film was not quite as ecstatic as I’d hoped. The writers have cherry-picked the facts they wanted and disregarded everything else. I don’t really blame the film-makers for this. In order to be scientifically accurate  the film would have to be an 18 and not a piece of science fiction. It’s already a pretty intense 12A, but some of the stuff they’ve omitted has nothing to do with the certification.

Let’s start with the almost complete absence of female characters. With the exceptions of the character I like to call ‘Mrs Caesar’ and Keri Russell’s ‘Ellie’, who makes up the numbers of the  thoroughly  anaemic human population of this film. ‘Mrs Caesar’ actually has a name, Cornelia, but we never hear it, nor does she communicate verbally, and I think I know the reason why she literally has no voice. Female chimps’ vocalisations are pretty much the same as male chimps’ vocalisations: Low and guttural. In the 1950’s an experiment was done to try to teach a very young female chimp, Viki, to speak a few simple words of English. This is what she sounded like.

I believe the film-makers were afraid this would provoke laughter so they decided to avoid it completely. There’s some evidence that Cornelia originally had a larger role in the film. A publicity still of her wearing a bizarre, twigs and berries headpiece (Actually, it’s not so bizarre. Just before the films release a story broke about a group of chimpanzees who’d started wearing twigs as ornamentation, just for ornamentation’s sake!) was circulating on the web and the fact they cast a well know voice actor in the part. I’m convinced there were many more scenes involving her that were cut to make room for more action. The females we are aware of are a group tending to Cornelia during her illness. We know they’re female because their vocalisations are higher pitched, like Monty Python’s Pepperpot Women.  This doesn’t bode well for the sequel. Are all the female characters to be denied a voice?

In the film itself they’re certainly denied a voice about what’s going on in their group. While female chimps do tend to be dominated by males, they are not completely powerless. In fact they have a hierarchy of their own and can influence who the Alpha Male is by siding with one particular male over another. Koba is patently an absolutely terrible leader and some females may have wanted to stay loyal to Caesar, or indeed, a completely different chimp. It’s all very convenient to send them off to the forests with the kids when the going gets tough and the tough get going.

Females  are actually a very important part of the group dynamic. Males are very attached to their mothers and even in adulthood will go back to her for comfort (sound familiar?) when distressed. In reality, Blue Eyes, Caesar’s son, would be more likely to be hanging around the sickbed, fretting about his old mum, rather than out and about being taught how to hunt deer. Although to give the film its due, chimpanzees in the wild do collectively hunt monkeys and even use sticks as spear-like implements. Another thing it gets right, is the inter-generational acquisition of sign language. Amazingly, this has already happened. Washoe, one of the first signing chimps, taught her adopted son, with no human assistance.

I think it’s shameful that we have to hark back to the 60’s original for a strong female character. Zira absolutely rocked: intelligent, feisty and funny, she was a major character in the ensemble. And speaking of ‘funny’. At no point do we see any of the apes having much fun before the combat starts. No playing, no chasing, no tickling ,no hugging, no grooming, no kissing, and most egregiously, no laughing (Koba does some mock laughing in order to deceive humans, but that doesn’t count). Yes, apes laugh, they have a sense of humour and love being playful. They also lie, so Koba’s statement that human’s “lie”, indicating an understanding of the concept, is entirely believable, as proved in the infamous sign language experiments started in the 60s. The film itself is strangely devoid of moments of humor that would really help lift it. Although I loved Keri Russell’s, “Try not to speak,” to the injured Caesar. A wonderfully self knowing bit of dialogue that NO-ONE in the cinema laughed at.


To balance things out again, there’s a great moment where Jason Clarke (Malcolm) is forced onto his knees by the other apes, while in the presence of Caesar. This is textbook subordinate behaviour to a superior. But Malcolm keeps on getting up again! Foolish human. But they don’t cry. Oh, chimps have tear ducts to lubricate the eye but they are incapable of crying ‘emotional’ tears. That does not mean they do not feel sadness. “Human lies!” again. In fact we may be the only species on earth to weep in response to emotion. There’s anecdotal evidence that elephants cry for the same reasons we do but it hasn’t been properly established.

What has been established is that bonobos are not violent war-mongers. Luckily, at no point in the film, do we learn that Koba, the stand-out character who rides off with the film, on horseback with guns blazing, is meant to be one. He doesn’t look like one and he doesn’t behave like one. Bonobos are extremely rare and have NEVER been used in medical experimentation, thus making a nonsense of his primary motivation, hatred for all humans due to their mistreatment of him in the labs. In reality bonobos have a matriarchal society where conflict is resolved via sex.  Bonobos are too busy making love to make war. They do have a darker side, and aggressive skirmishes can break out, but not to the extent of chimpanzees and humans, who organize armies and are murderously territorial. And yet, I got a massive vicarious thrill from watching Koba seethe, scream and generally create chaos; firing two automatic weapons at the same time, ‘manning’ a tank machine gun turret and baring his huge, intimidating fangs at anyone and everything. Was he unleashing my inner ape? Or does it suggest that I have some all too human issues? Only my subconscious and possibly David hold the key to those questions.

Something else I observed was that the meaning of the palm-stroking gesture, asking for permission in the first film, has been amended to one of appeasement or acceptance. So someone out there was listening to what the experts had to say. But not enough in my opinion! To conclude, DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES is a brave, but not entirely successful attempt to inject some intelligence into the summer blockbuster. It’s dark, emotional and tries to be about something important. The Apes series has always been about holding up a mirror to OUR society. Look at what’s happening in Gaza.  And hopefully, thanks to its quite astonishing melding of animation and performance, never again will we see them being used on film for the purpose of entertaining humans. If it helps achieve that, then it will have done much to alleviate the suffering of our closest genetic neighbours on this planet.  Because we are primates too.