IN BRUGES. Dir Martin McDonagh. 2007

When a film opens with a torrent of f***ing you might suspect a lack of imagination in the scriptwriting. The unseen foul mouthed Londoner is played by Ralph Fiennes as Harry, paymaster or gang boss. He’s sent Ken (admirably played by Brendan Gleeson) and Ray (Colin Farrell) to Bruges after a botched assassination, so they can hide out and await his instructions. The two are supposedly hit men but lack underlying menace so this may be a light hearted homage to ‘Pulp Fiction.’

Ken patiently tolerates Ray’s nervousness and the two spend time sightseeing. Nothing happens for a time although Ray does meet a girl working on a film set but, once he’s asked her out, she doesn’t work on it anymore which is puzzling. The earlier botched assassination also makes no sense as a small boy would run away or hide if he heard gunshots.

Common sense and continuity flaws aside, there are references to ‘Don’t Look Now’ in the way Bruges is made to look sinister at times around the canals and mediaeval architecture. There’s also a midget.

Contrasted with Gleeson’s dignified calm, Farrell grimaces, twitches and fusses, unable to form a natural facial expression for much of the story.

Lacks pace, tension and meaning although the ending is a redemption or sacrifice of sorts, honour among thieves/killers sort of thing. Funny in places.

Comments

OLD JOY. Dir Kelly Reichardt. 2005

Dropout Kurt arrives in town and calls up his old friend, earnest father-to-be Mark to suggest a camping trip out in the forest, away from the city. They haven’t seen each other for some time and the film suggests a desire for intimacy as well as a quest for peace. Something of a lost soul, Kurt is emotional and, at times, to be pitied. He lives outside society, in a world of new age type retreats and travels, which seem to have left him out on the margins. In contrast, Mark has a home and a pregnant partner, and tunes his car radio in to phone-ins with much loud chat about the state of society in America but he seems only half alive. They drive out of town, with the camera as passenger, which gazes out of the car window while a gorgeous soundtrack by Yo La Tengo sets a mellow mood. The use of extended silence makes me a little uneasy; it’s hard to get away from memories of Deliverance, and a sense of apprehension. In the city, the glass of the car windows insulates us...

Ralph McTell, Truro, 19 April 2007

Ralph's mates from Pentewan have all turned up in a mini bus to hear him sing and play, and he walks onto the stage looking comfortable; he's amongst friends. He's a big man; very charismatic, with a warm smile and a beguiling aura of powerful gentleness. He's relaxed, we're relaxed, and he sits with his guitar, chatting easily between songs, and playing with an easy familiarity with us, and with his material. His guitar playing is intricate and playful; going from ragtime to blues to folk, and his voice is deep and rich. He comments that he's put together quite a serious programme for the two hours he's on stage; it's true that the lyrics are thoughtful and the subjects serious, but there is light material too; a tune about Laurel and Hardy, and one or two covers of old blues numbers. When he sings Streets of London there are happy sighs and the audience sing along very softly; as softly as a whisper. It feels as intimate as if we were just a few people...

Interior Life of an Estate Agent - part 18

You're not from round 'ere then? I am surrounded by delightful young families, happily retired couples, or contented empty nesters, enjoying their return to pre-children companionship and some freedom from parental responsibility, as well as a large number of women who have escaped their marriages and bought a dog, preferring long walks and book clubs. One of the imbalanced things about living in the west country, as with living in the farther reaches of Scotland, is that there is a surfeit of single women and a dearth of suitable single men. The men are wage slaves, and to be found in the south-east whereas women, on the whole, like a bit of a view. This must be the centrifugal effect, as though single women have been flung out from the frenzied middle of a dance, and have landed, like so many wallflowers on the hard chairs all around the dance hall. I can tell you; those chairs are hard; and sitting on them makes you invisible; not, however, to the sort of man who has an ...

Just For Lookin' Thru

Search This Blog