“Megalopolis”? More like mega-flop it is!

Last week I went to see “Megalopolis”, the latest (and last?) film by Francis Ford Coppola. In the past, a Coppola production was usually something to relish, and I was looking forward to this addition to his canon of work. I purposely avoided reading any reviews beforehand; I was aware that this movie had endured a long gestation, and had experienced a number of challenges during production, so I did not want to arrive with any preconceived ideas. I wasn’t even aware of the plot or the cast.

Oh dear – what a disappointment. For something that was 40 years in development, and reportedly cost $120 million of the director’s own money, it was one of the worst films I have seen in a long while. No wonder it has attracted a very small audience, judging by the box office receipts. At the screening I attended, there were only 4 people in the entire cinema.

Despite the promising plot, the stellar cast, and the director’s own distinguished career, nothing can rescue this dog’s dinner of a film. It’s so bad on so many levels. First, the use of a voice-over to explain the plot is often a dodgy narrative device – especially as the narrator in this case is neither the main protagonist, nor an impartial observer. Second, the script and much of the acting is painfully bad – plodding, hackneyed, derisory, derivative and at times just plain over-wrought. Third, the set design looks cramped and feels claustrophobic. Many of the costumes are straight out of a Christmas pantomime, giving rise to an unintended comic effect. And as for the CGI images of the future city, it’s as if the design team simply gave Dall-E a few prompts and rendered the results on screen wholesale, without any editing or quality control.

At times, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be watching a Batman movie directed by Baz Luhrmann, or Christopher Nolan’s take on “Julius Caesar”.

I think part of the problem is that the characters and events that the film attempts to satirise are actually beyond parody. They are soft, obvious targets; and no matter how outrageous the story line, it can never out-do real life, or upstage current affairs. No doubt, the timing of its release is designed to raise questions about current social and political events, in the USA and elsewhere. Venal, vindictive, incompetent and impotent politicians; tech billionaires and media moguls who think they can determine election results; nepo babies who think they are talented just because of their family connections; social media influencers driven by a sense of their own entitlement and self-importance.

But it’s all been done before, and in many cases, far better.

Next week: Pudgy Penguins come to Melbourne

 

 

Postcript on Tarantino vs Ritchie

One of the most popular entries on this blog is about the film directors Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie. I can’t really explain the amount of traffic this article has generated, but I’m glad readers seem to like it.

I recently watched Guy Ritchie’s latest film, “The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare”. And since Tarantino has signalled his intention to stop making movies, I can’t help feeling that Ritchie is attempting to pick up the baton from where Tarantino has left off. Because “The Ministry…” comes across as Ritchie’s version of “Inglorious Basterds” – but more like “The Italian Job” than “Dirty Dozen” or “Where Eagles Dare”.

This competition between film makers may not quite equal the creative rivalry between The Beach Boys and The Beatles in 1966-7, but it will be interesting to see what each director does next.

Next week: Unintended Consequences?

 

Sakamoto – Opus

Live concert films are mostly formulaic. The audience filing into the venue. The performers warming up backstage. The band close ups, the cutaways to the wings, then zooming out to the ecstatic crowd. The sweaty and exhausted atmosphere in the dressing room afterwards. Sometimes the live footage is inter-cut with interviews, location footage, and the “making of” narrative. Occasionally, there will be scenes shot on the road, revealing the inevitable tedium and monotony of live touring.

A few notable exceptions have tried to break with this format, to present something more dramatic, more mystical, even mythical – think of Pink Floyd’s “Live in Pompeii” (knowingly echoed by Melbourne’s own Mildlife), Talking Head’s “Stop Making Sense”, and David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars”.

Often, the concert film becomes a souvenir. For those who were there, it enables them to relive the experience. For those who weren’t, they may get some vicarious thrill, but they won’t get to experience the performance as it was fully intended. These films can make us feel we missed out on an historic event, but they can also remind us why we are glad not to have been there at all (the Rolling Stones at Altamont?).

Many concerts these days (and the accompanying Blu-Ray discs) are all about the spectacle, sometimes at the expense of the actual music. Choreographed to within an inch of their lives, these shows leave very little to chance or the unexpected, with their troupes of dancers, video backdrops, somersaults and acrobatics, multiple costume changes, “forced” audience participation, and the “surprise” guest appearances during the encores….

So the footage of the final live performance by the late Ryuichi Sakamoto goes against this trend. Filmed alone, on piano, in stark black and white, and with no audience, no voice-overs and no talking heads, “Opus” is not strictly speaking a concert. Due to his failing health, Sakamoto was unable either to withstand the rigours of touring or to perform a single concert. Instead, these performances were shot in stages, and edited together to form a seamless programme, with nothing but Sakamoto, a piano, and the music, plus some very subtle lighting and framing. The sound recording is brilliant, and the content covers most aspects of Sakamoto’s illustrious and prolific career. It’s a fitting tribute, and a perfect counterpoint to “Coda”, the documentary he made when he had just come through an earlier health scare.

Sometimes, less is more.

Next week: Severance….

Eat The Rich?

There has recently been a spate of satirical films and TV series that take aim at the vanity, self-indulgence and sense of entitlement of the uber-rich. I’m thinking in particular of “The Menu”, “The Triangle of Sadness”, “Glass Onion” and “White Lotus”.  You could also include “Succession” on that list (especially in light of the latest revelations from the House of Murdoch), but this is more of a traditional drama than the others, both in terms of format and content.

Nothing radically new in these stories, their themes or the way they plot their narratives. What is perhaps surprising is the fact that these are not small, independent, art-house productions. They have substantial budgets, exotic locations, stylish design, creative cinematography, and some big names in the credits.

Plus, they receive major theatrical releases, or are luring audiences to premium streaming services. So, they are generally commercial. Best of all, they are attracting awards and nominations – which should hopefully encourage studios to invest in more projects like these (rather than green-lighting yet another sequel in the never-ending round of comic book and super hero franchises).

Of course, these particular stories could simply represent a sign of the times, reflecting current world events, and holding up a mirror to our social-media obsessed age. They also resonate with audiences who are looking for some escapism in the form of critiques of the upper classes, the filthy rich, the social elites, the global power brokers, and those hangers-on who hover and follow in their wake.

I wouldn’t suggest these productions are waging a form of class war, but they represent a kind of morality play: why would anyone want to feel jealous of, let alone become, these people?

Next week: A Journey Through England