holding back the fool
So Candy.
The movie, that is. Saw it on Monday night with Z, then watched Luke Davies --- Luke Davies eeeeee!!! --- and the director Neil Armfield talk with Margaret Pomeranz --- Margaret eeeeeee!! --- at Dendy Newtown.
Have I mentioned Candy stars Heath Ledger?
He was really good, actually. I've decided that possibly I can only tolerate and even feel much affection for Heath Ledger when his hair is dyed dark. No, seriously. Cos previously to Candy, the only other Heath Ledger film I love is Ten Things I Hate About You. Haven't seen Two Hands so can't comment on that and I have no idea what colour his hair is in Monsters Ball. Totally forgot he was even in that until Luke Davies (eee!) mentioned it.
But, yeah, went to Dendy straight after work and wandered between music shops, wondering if that really was Sarah Blasko I saw in the cinema foyer. Resisted the urge to buy the Blackeyed Susans' Dedicated To The Ones We Love even if it does have Rob Snarski singing Private Dancer ... *moans, swoons at the very thought, is just rendered deaded* ... and went back to read some more of Lunar Park in the dark reds of Dendy Newtown until Z arrived from work.
There was plenty of trepidation, yes. Cos on one hand, I so desperately wanted the movie to be just as deeply affecting as the book because that would mean it was Good. On the other hand, if it was just as affecting as the book, I'd be a total wreck by the end.
As it was, I was kinda spared by the mere fact that film is an entirely different experience to book. Obvious, I know, but I always seem to forget that when a favourite book is put to screen. I know with the Harry Potter books, the movies were completely irrelevant to me. They just weren't anywhere as cool or as special as the worlds of the books. Too glitzy, too confectionary, too Too. I was deeply dissatisfied with the Harry Potter films, Rickman aside.
But here the separation kinda worked. Right from the first shot which totally isn't in the book, right from the very cinematic opening scene, something Neil Armfield made clear was a deliberate stylistic decision. He likes the idea of creating a world that the characters and the audience step into and he did that quite literally with the opening scene. So, yeah, right off the bat, I found myself one step outside of the experience, somehow able to watch and pinpoint where the film deviated from the book, how the film reinterpreted this or that from the book. Because the book's fresh enough in my memory that I could do that and I was, without knowing how right, sensing that for Z it was an experience of startled remembrance.
It was good. It was a proper and decent film version of a book that is in a way totally unfilmable. And both Luke and Margaret were pretty clear on that, I'm glad they said it, that Candy as a book is such a stream of consciousness narrative, so totally bound up in one character's experience and thoughts and philosophy, so totally within his mind, that --- or wait, was it Z and I talking in the cab about this? --- that's why the book is such an incredible experience. Film can't replicate that. Another reason why the book of American Psycho is so much more harrowing than the film version. As a viewer, you're always going to be outside the experience, looking in. As a reader and if the writer's skilled enough, you'll be right in there.
I don't think I can properly judge Candy as a film separate from the book, a work of fiction in its own right. I'm too close to the book. Which is a pity. Cos I'd like to be able to critique it in terms of other druggie films. Oh, it was harrowing. The scenes of withdrawal were nearly as bad as Ewan screaming at the ceiling. Abbie writhing on the floor was awful, Heath concussing himself in the shower was even worse. And let's not even talk about the hospital scene. That was every bit as emotionally eviscerating as I'd feared, so much so that the moment of peace after felt like a desperately needed breath of space and quiet. But then again, I'm not sure if I'm reacting like this because the sadness of the book tore me up so much.
It was interesting what Luke and Neil said in terms of other films, repeating that thing from the article I copied. That they liked Trainspotting but not Requiem For A Dream. And Luke elaborated a little when he said he didn't like the fast and frenetic pace of Requiem. Which intrigues me now cos, yeah, previously too wussy to watch that after my reaction to the book, but now I'm curious. It's always weird when someone I revere negatively critiques someone else I adore. Luke Davies, one of my favourite writers, doesn't like Darren Aronofsky, one of my favourite directors. Mmmmmmm ... *looks back and forth and back and forth* ... who do I side with here?
But, yeah, in terms of Trainspotting, I see how they carried over that realistic quality of production. Every set was slightly disturbingly real, even worse when we as an audience realised that the pawnbroker in the movie was a few blocks away from the cinema. I did love that one decision of cutting all mentions of Melbourne from the movie, situating the urban action wholly in Sydney. But see, at the same time, you wouldn't know it was Sydney unless you knew the suburbs cos I don't think they ever actually name the city as such. There's a certain quality of anonymity that could translate quite nicely to international audiences, even with the totally authentic Aussie accents and inflections.
It's funny that I found myself mentally paraphrasing what Z said at the previous Eskimo Joe gig: "It's so good to see an Aussie act headline." Here, in the back of my head, I was really happy to see real Australian people and hear real Australian speech and accents on screen, not bad fakes.
So for most of the film, I stayed a little out of the experience, jolted a little closer in the withdrawal and hospital scene. I have to admit I was a little dissatisfied by the leaps of action, it didn't seem like the script had properly guided the viewer from stage to stage, from the pawnbroker to the brothel to the street. I was sitting there, thinking "Now, look, if I hadn't read the book, I'd be totally resisting these choices, I wouldn't be understanding why they're doing this stuff." So, yeah, conflicted reaction to that aspect because I was so very aware that when they did the same things in the book, I knew why and more importantly I understood there was no other option. Not sure I would have understood if I only had the film to go on. *scowl*
Until that last scene. All the distance I had through the film just completely vanished in that last moment of "will he, won't he? oh god, will they?" Even though I knew how the relationship turned out in the book, the film had moved the action away so it could go either way and, yeah, like Luke, I was kinda on the edge of my seat, eyes wide and heart in my throat. Will he, won't he? Will they, will they?
It was brilliant. The whole film came together in that last scene, all the emotional beauty and pain mingled into a scene of pure transcendence. Everything, the incredible acting, the framing of the shots, the painfully familiar and grottily urban set of a Thai restaurant, the unpretty reality of him and the glowing gorgeosity of her. God, it was brilliant. It mended my heart and broke it in the same moment.
On a totally superficial level though, I gotta say I was sitting there thinking the Heath fangirls are gonna be in ecstasy over this film cos he spends a good deal of it with his arse hanging out his pants or in various states of nudity, all tattooed and greasyhaired and getting loved up.
For me, I was quietly falling in love with the total perfection of Abbie Cornish's nose. Seriously, the most perfect nose I have ever seen. The tip of it just kills me, man. Upturned and yet sculpted, god talk about rigid with envy.
Did she do Candy justice? Hell fucking oath, yes. Christ, she was amazing. She was perfect. There could have been no other. From the certain silver blond glisten to her hair to the snarl of her Aussie tone to the fabulous range of emotion she ran, she nailed every facet of that character. She owned it. It was almost Bale-like.
And they used Song To The Siren through the film, the Cocteau Twins version as Z informed me. But that's the second Tim Buckley instance in a Luke Davies creation which makes me quietly happy and one step closer to actually buying an album. I've been saying that for what, two years now? Yeah, well. One day.
Luke Davies hisself? We were a bit too far away for me to see him properly. And from that distance he looked disturbingly like a guy I knew in India which kept freaking me out. His voice had this almost effete tone every now and then which, bizarrely enough, kinda put me off. He's such a writer, though. By which I mean to say he's such a wanker. That unmistakable ability to reel off spoken sentences of big words and gnarly nebulous concepts, either rehearsed or spontaneous, such a writer wanker thing. Neil does it, I hear myself do it, Luke does it, can't mistake it at all. And weirdly enough, I wasn't sure I liked it all that much. He certainly didn't have anywhere as much warmth and humour as Neil does. But he was funny, definitely. I think I was just really thrown at the resemblance, so did not expect that ever. Ugh.
No matter. Still a bloody incredible writer.
And, yeah, it really was Sarah Blasko, just with different colour hair. I used to be in love with her. And was dimly reminded why.
And speaking of writers, how delighted was I to discover the next Pratchett book, out in September, is a Tiffany book? Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!! Counting down the months, oh yes. New Pratchett wheee!
I am re-reading Night Watch as well in the lead up to May 25. Were you there?
The movie, that is. Saw it on Monday night with Z, then watched Luke Davies --- Luke Davies eeeeee!!! --- and the director Neil Armfield talk with Margaret Pomeranz --- Margaret eeeeeee!! --- at Dendy Newtown.
Have I mentioned Candy stars Heath Ledger?
He was really good, actually. I've decided that possibly I can only tolerate and even feel much affection for Heath Ledger when his hair is dyed dark. No, seriously. Cos previously to Candy, the only other Heath Ledger film I love is Ten Things I Hate About You. Haven't seen Two Hands so can't comment on that and I have no idea what colour his hair is in Monsters Ball. Totally forgot he was even in that until Luke Davies (eee!) mentioned it.
But, yeah, went to Dendy straight after work and wandered between music shops, wondering if that really was Sarah Blasko I saw in the cinema foyer. Resisted the urge to buy the Blackeyed Susans' Dedicated To The Ones We Love even if it does have Rob Snarski singing Private Dancer ... *moans, swoons at the very thought, is just rendered deaded* ... and went back to read some more of Lunar Park in the dark reds of Dendy Newtown until Z arrived from work.
There was plenty of trepidation, yes. Cos on one hand, I so desperately wanted the movie to be just as deeply affecting as the book because that would mean it was Good. On the other hand, if it was just as affecting as the book, I'd be a total wreck by the end.
As it was, I was kinda spared by the mere fact that film is an entirely different experience to book. Obvious, I know, but I always seem to forget that when a favourite book is put to screen. I know with the Harry Potter books, the movies were completely irrelevant to me. They just weren't anywhere as cool or as special as the worlds of the books. Too glitzy, too confectionary, too Too. I was deeply dissatisfied with the Harry Potter films, Rickman aside.
But here the separation kinda worked. Right from the first shot which totally isn't in the book, right from the very cinematic opening scene, something Neil Armfield made clear was a deliberate stylistic decision. He likes the idea of creating a world that the characters and the audience step into and he did that quite literally with the opening scene. So, yeah, right off the bat, I found myself one step outside of the experience, somehow able to watch and pinpoint where the film deviated from the book, how the film reinterpreted this or that from the book. Because the book's fresh enough in my memory that I could do that and I was, without knowing how right, sensing that for Z it was an experience of startled remembrance.
It was good. It was a proper and decent film version of a book that is in a way totally unfilmable. And both Luke and Margaret were pretty clear on that, I'm glad they said it, that Candy as a book is such a stream of consciousness narrative, so totally bound up in one character's experience and thoughts and philosophy, so totally within his mind, that --- or wait, was it Z and I talking in the cab about this? --- that's why the book is such an incredible experience. Film can't replicate that. Another reason why the book of American Psycho is so much more harrowing than the film version. As a viewer, you're always going to be outside the experience, looking in. As a reader and if the writer's skilled enough, you'll be right in there.
I don't think I can properly judge Candy as a film separate from the book, a work of fiction in its own right. I'm too close to the book. Which is a pity. Cos I'd like to be able to critique it in terms of other druggie films. Oh, it was harrowing. The scenes of withdrawal were nearly as bad as Ewan screaming at the ceiling. Abbie writhing on the floor was awful, Heath concussing himself in the shower was even worse. And let's not even talk about the hospital scene. That was every bit as emotionally eviscerating as I'd feared, so much so that the moment of peace after felt like a desperately needed breath of space and quiet. But then again, I'm not sure if I'm reacting like this because the sadness of the book tore me up so much.
It was interesting what Luke and Neil said in terms of other films, repeating that thing from the article I copied. That they liked Trainspotting but not Requiem For A Dream. And Luke elaborated a little when he said he didn't like the fast and frenetic pace of Requiem. Which intrigues me now cos, yeah, previously too wussy to watch that after my reaction to the book, but now I'm curious. It's always weird when someone I revere negatively critiques someone else I adore. Luke Davies, one of my favourite writers, doesn't like Darren Aronofsky, one of my favourite directors. Mmmmmmm ... *looks back and forth and back and forth* ... who do I side with here?
But, yeah, in terms of Trainspotting, I see how they carried over that realistic quality of production. Every set was slightly disturbingly real, even worse when we as an audience realised that the pawnbroker in the movie was a few blocks away from the cinema. I did love that one decision of cutting all mentions of Melbourne from the movie, situating the urban action wholly in Sydney. But see, at the same time, you wouldn't know it was Sydney unless you knew the suburbs cos I don't think they ever actually name the city as such. There's a certain quality of anonymity that could translate quite nicely to international audiences, even with the totally authentic Aussie accents and inflections.
It's funny that I found myself mentally paraphrasing what Z said at the previous Eskimo Joe gig: "It's so good to see an Aussie act headline." Here, in the back of my head, I was really happy to see real Australian people and hear real Australian speech and accents on screen, not bad fakes.
So for most of the film, I stayed a little out of the experience, jolted a little closer in the withdrawal and hospital scene. I have to admit I was a little dissatisfied by the leaps of action, it didn't seem like the script had properly guided the viewer from stage to stage, from the pawnbroker to the brothel to the street. I was sitting there, thinking "Now, look, if I hadn't read the book, I'd be totally resisting these choices, I wouldn't be understanding why they're doing this stuff." So, yeah, conflicted reaction to that aspect because I was so very aware that when they did the same things in the book, I knew why and more importantly I understood there was no other option. Not sure I would have understood if I only had the film to go on. *scowl*
Until that last scene. All the distance I had through the film just completely vanished in that last moment of "will he, won't he? oh god, will they?" Even though I knew how the relationship turned out in the book, the film had moved the action away so it could go either way and, yeah, like Luke, I was kinda on the edge of my seat, eyes wide and heart in my throat. Will he, won't he? Will they, will they?
It was brilliant. The whole film came together in that last scene, all the emotional beauty and pain mingled into a scene of pure transcendence. Everything, the incredible acting, the framing of the shots, the painfully familiar and grottily urban set of a Thai restaurant, the unpretty reality of him and the glowing gorgeosity of her. God, it was brilliant. It mended my heart and broke it in the same moment.
On a totally superficial level though, I gotta say I was sitting there thinking the Heath fangirls are gonna be in ecstasy over this film cos he spends a good deal of it with his arse hanging out his pants or in various states of nudity, all tattooed and greasyhaired and getting loved up.
For me, I was quietly falling in love with the total perfection of Abbie Cornish's nose. Seriously, the most perfect nose I have ever seen. The tip of it just kills me, man. Upturned and yet sculpted, god talk about rigid with envy.
Did she do Candy justice? Hell fucking oath, yes. Christ, she was amazing. She was perfect. There could have been no other. From the certain silver blond glisten to her hair to the snarl of her Aussie tone to the fabulous range of emotion she ran, she nailed every facet of that character. She owned it. It was almost Bale-like.
And they used Song To The Siren through the film, the Cocteau Twins version as Z informed me. But that's the second Tim Buckley instance in a Luke Davies creation which makes me quietly happy and one step closer to actually buying an album. I've been saying that for what, two years now? Yeah, well. One day.
Luke Davies hisself? We were a bit too far away for me to see him properly. And from that distance he looked disturbingly like a guy I knew in India which kept freaking me out. His voice had this almost effete tone every now and then which, bizarrely enough, kinda put me off. He's such a writer, though. By which I mean to say he's such a wanker. That unmistakable ability to reel off spoken sentences of big words and gnarly nebulous concepts, either rehearsed or spontaneous, such a writer wanker thing. Neil does it, I hear myself do it, Luke does it, can't mistake it at all. And weirdly enough, I wasn't sure I liked it all that much. He certainly didn't have anywhere as much warmth and humour as Neil does. But he was funny, definitely. I think I was just really thrown at the resemblance, so did not expect that ever. Ugh.
No matter. Still a bloody incredible writer.
And, yeah, it really was Sarah Blasko, just with different colour hair. I used to be in love with her. And was dimly reminded why.
And speaking of writers, how delighted was I to discover the next Pratchett book, out in September, is a Tiffany book? Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!! Counting down the months, oh yes. New Pratchett wheee!
I am re-reading Night Watch as well in the lead up to May 25. Were you there?