Mirrormask
Yesterday evening I went to a screening of Mirrormask.
The venue was the Town Hall. Not a proper cinema, just a hall in which they've set up a screen and a soundsystem and some rows of chairs. Given that the acoustics were terrible and the chairs uncomfortable, my comments may be tainted by the decidedly sub-optimal viewing conditions. But anyway:
Visually the film is incredible; full of rich and striking images. If you've ever wondered what it would be like to step into Dave McKean's artwork, it'd be like this. If you're not familiar with his work, it'll be utterly unlike anything you've ever seen before.
Nonetheless, overall I felt a bit let down by it.
When I read Neil Gaiman's American Gods I enjoyed it, but it left me somewhat cold, and it took me a while to understand why. Neil's narrative writing makes wonderful use of language, and is beautifully observed, but observed appears to be the key word. In his comics the narrative is limited to short bursts, with much of its burden taken care of by the visuals. In his short stories it never has time to outstay its welcome.
But in a full length novel (at least, in American Gods; I've not yet read Anansi Boys) this narrative style lends a sense of detachment. During the long measured moments of introspection it works well, but when the same florid prose style is used to describe snappier character exchanges or grittier action it flags. The prose doesn't change pace with the action, and hence gives that feeling of observing the characters but not being involved with them.
There is, of course, no narrative prose in Mirrormask, but it has some of the same sense of detachment. It comes across partly in characters who appear to have little purpose of their own beyond the role they play in Helena's story, though since this is ostensibly taking place in Helena's own dream this has a certain logic to it.
But I'd also put part of it down to the soundtrack. Rather than going for a more traditional orchestral score they've employed jazz saxophonist Iain Ballamy. The result is a score which defies cinematic expectations and is a perfectly skewed complement to McKean's visuals; the problem is that it seems to spend more time supporting the scenery than it does the characters or the action. It's also somewhat relentless and made it hard to follow some of the dialogue, though this may be down to the aforementioned terrible acoustics.
Anyway, a film I'll be interested to see again, hopefully picking up things I missed first time, but not quite what I'd hoped.
And I'd also like to say that saintmaryuk is a quite unfeasibly wonderful person. She knows why. :-)
The venue was the Town Hall. Not a proper cinema, just a hall in which they've set up a screen and a soundsystem and some rows of chairs. Given that the acoustics were terrible and the chairs uncomfortable, my comments may be tainted by the decidedly sub-optimal viewing conditions. But anyway:
Visually the film is incredible; full of rich and striking images. If you've ever wondered what it would be like to step into Dave McKean's artwork, it'd be like this. If you're not familiar with his work, it'll be utterly unlike anything you've ever seen before.
Nonetheless, overall I felt a bit let down by it.
When I read Neil Gaiman's American Gods I enjoyed it, but it left me somewhat cold, and it took me a while to understand why. Neil's narrative writing makes wonderful use of language, and is beautifully observed, but observed appears to be the key word. In his comics the narrative is limited to short bursts, with much of its burden taken care of by the visuals. In his short stories it never has time to outstay its welcome.
But in a full length novel (at least, in American Gods; I've not yet read Anansi Boys) this narrative style lends a sense of detachment. During the long measured moments of introspection it works well, but when the same florid prose style is used to describe snappier character exchanges or grittier action it flags. The prose doesn't change pace with the action, and hence gives that feeling of observing the characters but not being involved with them.
There is, of course, no narrative prose in Mirrormask, but it has some of the same sense of detachment. It comes across partly in characters who appear to have little purpose of their own beyond the role they play in Helena's story, though since this is ostensibly taking place in Helena's own dream this has a certain logic to it.
But I'd also put part of it down to the soundtrack. Rather than going for a more traditional orchestral score they've employed jazz saxophonist Iain Ballamy. The result is a score which defies cinematic expectations and is a perfectly skewed complement to McKean's visuals; the problem is that it seems to spend more time supporting the scenery than it does the characters or the action. It's also somewhat relentless and made it hard to follow some of the dialogue, though this may be down to the aforementioned terrible acoustics.
Anyway, a film I'll be interested to see again, hopefully picking up things I missed first time, but not quite what I'd hoped.
And I'd also like to say that saintmaryuk is a quite unfeasibly wonderful person. She knows why. :-)