It’s at the stage now where I can’t remember this roundabout or whatever it is not being an absolute shambles. I don’t know a soul who possesses any notion of what work is being done or why.
It’s just … there. A big fucking mess for all eternity.
This blew my mind it was so good. On a simple action-adventure level it’s pure Mann, the framing and the cutting all signature style. What further distinguishes it are the connotations, though, the other world beyond the landscape. Mann always does this, always a subtext in the works. He makes deceptively uncomplicated yarns, but look closer and you unearth what he’s getting at.
This is pre-Revolutionary War (1775–1783) sparked by a Boston Tea Party. Get your head around that. The ending is magisterial, a literal crescendo of dimensions. The last shot – old America, current America, future America. It conveys more about American history than thousands of movies.
On a personal aside, I once synced the incredible Trevor Jones score to a panning shot of Edinburgh taken on a VHS-C camera from the top of Hillend. It was fucking pathetic but we can’t all be Michael Mann.
Essential cinema.
A shithole, that is without question. But it’s my kind of toilet and it’s defined the past half decade of my life. I’m in that KFC three days a week. I’ve seen some faces come and go, yet I am the constant. It’s my escape from the office, which is even worse than the actual TV show The Office. I haven’t seen the American version.
Bye for now.
I have changed the slideshow setting. For a week.
I’ve said on countless occasions to anyone and no one that the Bourne films easily supplant the modern Bonds in terms of a ‘hyper-realism’ because they are the right spy for this era – dodgy government agencies who are an extension of those governments, expendable employees prone to paranoia and literal identity crisis, a globalised landscape with overlapping institutions all out to screw you/each other.
In recent pictures, i.e., the Daniel Craig shit-bombs, Bond has essentially imitated Bourne, jettisoning some of the more ludicrous gadgets of the later Pierce Brosnan entries and going back to basics. Unfortunately, the filmmakers have missed the point and also lost the plot. Bond is Bond. Bourne is Bourne. Skyfall (2012) and the like are so schematic it’s embarrassing.
But enough about 007. What the Bourne movies did so well was capture that post-9/11 zeitgeist – expanded government powers, loss of individual freedoms for reasons of national security (or whatever), the sense that the rule of law is entirely flexible. They are also thrillingly unpredictable. You actually believe the carnage on display, and believe in the character and his mission to remember yet atone. It’s convincing.
The Bourne Supremacy (2004) is the big one for me. It’s the dazzling city-hopping angle of it, the Berlin centrepiece, the unexpected death of a central character which is ruthless but entirely necessary in motivating the protagonist. And that bonkers Moscow car chase.
These movies are more than mere thrillers; they are as much about a bloke’s weary relation to his time and place as they are his mission objectives. Someone once described the pictures to me as ‘existential’.
I think I know what he meant.
Further reading/viewing:
https://orlandoinformer.com/blog/jason-bourne-stuntacular-story-explained/
I mean, look at that fucking poster! Cool as milk, as is the movie. The script is a bit too melodramatic and Schrader is clearly a little too much obsessed with the cinema of Robert Bresson – the ending is almost shot-for-shot Pickpocket (1959). But the movie is pure sleek, art deco deluxe. And to top it off you’ve got Blondie and Giorgio Moroder on soundtrack duties.
Peak Richard Gere. No one plays the narcissist as well as he can.
Once more with feeling:
Terrifying scenes the other evening. It all came flooding back (no pun intended). This was some movie back in the day. And like most of these Japanese and South Korean horrors from the noughties, it was subject to an inferior American remake.
They need to stop doing this because they are still doing it.
Bob Dylan. Not my kind of music. I go for the atmospherics and the bangin’ beats; take me back to the Sensation White Amsterdam era of alcopops and Ajax tops.
I have seen the movie Vanilla Sky (2001) 16 times, though. I know every single facet about the feature and WHY it is incredible yet folk still slate it. Some plebs just hate Tom Cruise; I think he is the best. He puts his all into everything and clearly loves his life. He also gets stick for the Scientology thing, as if every other religion isn’t insane.
Anyway, an album cover from something from Bob Dylan features in the film. I have never listened to the album and never will but it’s a belter of a photo. I feel about Bob Dylan as some do Tom Cruise.
I like to frequent this little Anthony Burgess habitat at least once a year to remind me of one of the greatest movies ever put on celluloid. When I depart I say to myself, “I was cured alright.”
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 