In Contention

Tag: How I Ended This Summer

  • Watching and waiting: Guy’s best and worst of 2010

    What kind of year was 2010 at the movies? You tell me. It’s virtually impossible to find one yardstick to measure 365 days of cinema for a collective audience whose interests seem ever more segregated.

    If your film interests are covered largely by the multiplex, chances are 2010 was an unusually unrewarding year for you, challenging even Hollywood’s standard quota of déjà vu — unless, of course, you’re an animation fiend, in which case there was a broad enough range of carefully crafted work to keep you happy.

    If you tend to bypass the mall on your way to the arthouse, however, there was any amount of adventurous indie and world cinema, both newly unveiled and backlogged from previous years, to chew on — if, of course, you’re privileged enough to live in a regrettably narrow radius. And if you’re an Academy voter sifting through the crop of generously campaigned prestige fare, 2010 looks rather like the usual, only a little more so.

    For me, 2010 was both immeasurably improved and somewhat complicated by the festival circuit — access to which is a luxury I shall never take for granted, but also one that inevitably skews my sense of how the film yearbook reads in the real world. When you’ve had access to most of the big-ticket winter warmers by early autumn, and when the likes of Cannes afford you a head start of many months or even years on certain international art films, things rather lose their shape.

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  • INTERVIEW: Patricia Clarkson

    “I’m going to bring back the letter,” a flustered Patricia Clarkson announces as she makes her way to our lunch table, ever-so-slightly rain-mussed but otherwise immaculate in black and cream, a jaunty matching fedora astride her familiar blonde mane. “I’m never late. I blame email for this. I’m only just getting acquainted with it.”

    She is, thanks to a slight communication muddle, late only to a degree most actors wouldn’t apologise for. Together with my lunchmate, Daily Telegraph critic Tim Robey, we’ve nabbed a cosy corner spot at Mayfair’s all-day Italian bistro Cecconi’s, a humming London institution of marble, green velvet upholstery and £40 white truffle starters. (Clarkson is more excited by other things on the menu: later, one eye on the menu, she interrupts her own sentence with the jubilant cry, “Meatballs! With spaghetti sauce!”)

    “This place is fabulous,” she says—that adjective’s first of many appearances in our two-hour conversation—settling into our banquette with a tidy collapse of a sigh. Patricia Clarkson, she does not mind admitting, is exhausted, and not just from her week of jury duty at the London Film Festival, where she presided over the panel that, we’d learn the next day, selected Russia’s “How I Ended This Summer” as best in show. (All she tells us is that she’s “very happy” with the “wonderful” winner they’ve chosen, though she successfully deflects our speculation as to what it might be. “Oh, the Russian film?” she shrugs, when Tim brings it up.)

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  • Finally, the 10 best of the 2010 LFF

    For those of you who were loyally following my London Film Festival coverage this year, I must apologize for leaving it somewhat in limbo. Though I did eventually find time for a lengthy discussion of fest closer “127 Hours,” a snowballing workload put paid to my hopes of squeezing in a few more review roundups. And frankly, since the festival wrapped on Thursday after four weeks of press screenings, I so relished having ownership of my days again that I let things lie longer than I intended.

    But by way of a belated send-off, here’s a gathering of the films that made the LFF for me this year. I saw precisely 60 films at the festival, in addition to 27 I’d already seen at previous fests, so I was naïve to hope I might get round to discussing most of them.

    Some of the  clunkers (glum German childbirth drama “Blessed Events,” Ferzan Ozpetek’s lead-footed gay comedy “Loose Cannons”) barely merit appraisal; other, more interesting, disappointments (Xavier Dolan’s meticulous but terminally precious love triangle “Heartbeats,” Benedik Flieugauf’s visually startling but sketchily conceived sci-fi “Womb”) at least deserved a few paragraphs. Ah, well.

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  • WEEKLY WRAP: Leading men, Halloween horror, comic contenders

    • This week’s Off the Carpet column took a roll call of this year’s Best Actor contenders.

    • Meanwhile, we interviewed one of the strongest of those contenders, “127 Hours” star James Franco.

    • With “The King’s Speech,” “Another Year” and “Made in Dagenham” all in the hunt, The Long Shot mused on Britain’s back-and-forth relationship with the Oscars.

    • In case you’d forgotten what day it is, Chad got into the Halloween spirit by counting down his ten favorite alternative horror movies.

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  • ‘How I Ended This Summer’ takes top prize at London fest

    “We chose our winner last night,” London Film Festival jury president Patricia Clarkson told me yesterday, an evasive  smile on our face, as we eased into our lunchtime interview. (More on that in a few days.) “I’m very pleased with it — it’s a wonderful film.”

    Naturally, my fellow lunch guest, Daily Telegraph critic Tim Robey, and I tried to tease some clues out of the estimable character actress, but she wasn’t budging. She was, however, keen to know which of the shortlisted films we had seen. When Tim declared Alexei Popogrebsky’s two-hander character drama “How I Ended This Summer” his favourite film of the festival,  Clarkson’s eyes glazed over ever so slightly. “Oh, the Russian film?” she said unenthusiastically.

    Well, Clarkson really is quite the actress. For as it turns out, “the Russian film” she so slyly shrugged off at lunch is the very one that she — together with jurors Sandy Powell, John Hillcoat, Shekhar Kapur and Gabriel Byrne — had already voted the winner of the fest’s Best Film trophy, following in the footsteps of last year’s champ “A Prophet,” and beating such heavyweight competition as “Black Swan,” “Another Year,” “The King’s Speech” and “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives.” The choice was unveiled at tonight’s festival closing ceremony.

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  • BERLIN: Competition blues

    Jack Yao and Amber Kuo in Au Revoir, TaipeiLooking over my Berlinale coverage so far, the thing that surprises me is what a benevolent mood I seem to be in for much of it. By focusing principally on the titles that have impressed (or at least engaged) me, I’ve rather given the impression of a festival packed with delights.

    As good a time as I am having in the German capital, however, I’m afraid that’s not exactly the case. All around the festival center can be heard the collected grumblings of critics wondering what on earth is going to win the Golden Bear on Saturday — and not for richness of pickings, either.

    The festival’s Forum and Panorama strands have served up a number of strong entries, including consensus critical hits like “The Illusionist” and “Kawasaki Rose.” And the out-of-competition Sundance repeats have sustained their buzz from last month’s wintry festival: “Winter’s Bone,” in particular, is the title I’ve heard more in conversations with fellow critics than any other, and scarcely anyone has a bad word for “Exit Through the Gift Shop” or “The Kids Are All Right.”

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