It’s testament to screenwriter Nick Hornby (my eyes lit up as I saw his name in the opening credits) that Jenny isn’t completely overwhelmed by the sparkling, alien world she encounters. She holds her own in conversations of art and film, she speaks fluent French, she puts her foot down and refuses to be deflowered until her seventeenth birthday. Jenny has a quick wit, which I was certainly grateful for – I believe protagonist made of lesser stuff would have fast grown tiresome over the film’s running time. In addition to this, I applaud Carey Mulligan for a really charming performance as Jenny, bringing equal amounts of balls as wide-eyed innocence along with her adorable dimples. (How strange it was though, to see her with short hair and looking decidedly older than seventeen during the Q&A session after the screening!)

Peter Sarsgaard (a personal favourite, I won’t try to deny it) is wonderfully charming, and seems to be utterly at home in the role of an intellectual party-goer and lover of the arts. So too, is the darker side of David completely believable…not as a plot point, but as a real human flaw in someone who seemed so unflappable and too good to be true. David could have trod the line of being a villain at times (although there’s not much of that I can expand on without some major spoilers), yet Sarsgaard’s portrayal is sadder and truer than to let that eventuate. The rest of the cast too, were similarly well-cast and enjoyable to watch. Alfred Molina visibly revels in the fun of playing a character like Jack. What could have easily have been a stereotypical and cliched portrayal of a father-figure is something far funnier and touching in the hands of Hornby and Molina. So too, is the ever poised and gorgeous Olivia Williams as Miss Stubbs, Jenny’s English teacher.

As a film, An Education might take a well-worn path, but it’s one of the most enjoyable films I’ve seen at this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival. The dialogue snaps and crackles with a really intelligent wit. The characters are well fleshed-out, are interesting, are obviously well-liked by writer and director alike. The film made me want to go home and listen to a French record, made me want to sit outside a cafe and smoke, to go dancing, made me nostalgic for a time when all the things I saw onscreen were as new and exciting as they were to Jenny. Is that not the sign of a film with some merit worth noting?

Verdict:

A coming of age film that sparkles in smarts, wit, style and charm.

-This review was originally posted Aug 3, 2009.

]]> http://cutprintreview.com/reviews/4-stars/an-education-review/feed/ 3 http://cutprintreview.com/reviews/4-stars/paper-soldier-review/ http://cutprintreview.com/reviews/4-stars/paper-soldier-review/#comments Sun, 16 Aug 2009 01:45:41 +0000 Rebecca Mery http://cutprintreview.com/?p=6440 I chose this film for perusal at this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival simply because I had heard the (Venice Film Festival award-winning) cinematography was well worth the price of admission on its own. Call it seeking out inspiration for an upcoming filmic project. In this regard, I was not disappointed. Neither, did Paper Soldier fail to live up to the warning I had received before the screening, “EXPECT TARKOVSKY!”

For those not in the know regarding Soviet cinema, Andrei Tarkovsky can best be described through his constant and spectacular use of long, long tracking shots, of the most balletic nature, mostly devoid of dialogue. Paper Soldier however, is not directed by Tarkovsky, but rather Aleksei German. It’s often billed as the Russian Right Stuff (do yourself a favour if you haven’t checked out that particularly epic Tom Wolfe adaptation and devour it, please), but Paper Soldier is less bravado and gung-ho than balletic, thoughtful and grey. Really, where the similarities start and end is the fact that both films explore the space race between the two superpowers…and it seems fitting that both films seem to exemplify their respective schools of cinema; gung ho, epic Hollywood, and a rather more introspectively self-aware Soviet cinema. It’s certainly an unlikely way of telling the story of the Russian side of the space race – the entire period of history lends itself to all the fanfare and rousing chorus of a blockbuster. Cosmonaut training is barely touched on, in fact. Rather, the film fixates itself on the chain-smoking doctors of the mission.

It’s 1961, and Dr. Daniel Pokrovsky (Merab Ninidze, with just the right amount of broodishly dark good looks) is a doctor rather high up in the chain of those working to send a man into space safely. He’s haunted by the memory and legacy of his surgeon father, and by his increasing inner conflict regarding the human risk of the mission he’s participating in. He’s married to Nina (Chulpan Khamatova), a fellow doctor in Moscow, with whom he might want to divorce, or have a child with. He’s also involved with the young and clingy Vera, (Anastasya Sheveleva) a girl from the flats of Kazakhstan where the Cosmodome resides. They go to parties, get drunk, smoke a lot, talk amongst themselves and over each other. While that may sound lively however, one looking for a riveting character study and constant moments of life and excitement can rethink their gameplan very quickly. The three main protagonists are interesting yes, but aren’t really the main concern of the film. It’s rather difficult to connect to them until the last third of the film, and the moments of human interaction and emotion are separated by long periods of those long takes I mentioned earlier.

It does take Paper Soldier a leisurely long while for the plot and emotional depth to pick up steam, but it is worth it I assure you, for those who are as enraptured as I was with the exquisite cinematography. Truly, it is a wonder to behold. All greys and blacks of the Kazakhstan landscape, interrupted by fires, or a crying mistress, or astronauts remarkably casual before their first flight. A man rides a bike towards the death that had been looming over the entire film, giving it a sense of dread. The movements of the characters are almost balletic within the frame, moving in and out of the camera’s eye, with each shot a compositional triumph. It makes one wonder how much of the film was rehearsed and choreographed to oblivion and back. This meandering of the seemingly minimal plot (I say that because it’s a time remembered with a significant amount of pride in Russia to my knowledge) combined with the flats of Kazakhstan, the film often has a dream-like quality.

What’s my verdict? I got a giant kick out of the film, although I’m fully aware that I didn’t get half as many of the cultural references that were in the film. There’s occasional moments of a lovely kind of humour, and like I’ve just described, the cinematography certainly is an inspiration, especially for someone about to head into production as Director of Photography of a short film. This isn’t for the easily bored though, or those who need constant explanations of the actions of the characters and the trajectory of the plot. There’s certainly a lot to be had from Paper Soldier.

The Steven I refer to is none other than Steven Soderbergh, truly one of those ever-reliable filmmakers. I guess at times I take this seemingly effortlessly slick, stylish filmmaker’s skill for granted, but he really is one of those ever-reliable directors (do I go as far as to call him an auteur? Perhaps not.) that continually makes film after solid, substantial film. The Girlfriend Experience is no exception.

My second visit to the aisles of this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival, I wasn’t sure what to expect from Soderbergh’s newest offering. I knew it would be about a high-class Manhattan escort, portrayed by successful porn actress Sasha Grey (who, I noted with interest, is my age). Apart from that however, I wasn’t sure what was in store for me, other than my friend’s claim that it was a “reaction against” the Ocean’s franchise which had brought Soderbergh so much box office success in recent years. Indeed, it is – that much was clear from the opening seconds of the film.

The Girlfriend Experience is all the sometimes out of focus, awkward and improvised dialogue, interestingly framed shots that the Oceans films are not. Objects and people are deliberately out of frame, or out of focus, then suddenly appear again. The camerawork is gorgeous, yet notably hand-held. Awkward pauses abound. This isn’t a film for those who shy away from what is a little “artsy”. Not for haters of Godard (see: similarities in subject matter and pace to Godard’s Vivre Sa Vie). Christine/Chelsea (Grey) is a successful escort, earning thousands per hour, seeing to the needs of wealthy businessmen who haven’t the time for the real girlfriend experience. Set in 2008, Chelsea’s clients complain and whine to no end about the upcoming election, and especially the global financial crisis. They’re earning less nowadays, they’re losing clients and are terrified that their lifestyle might have to change. Chelsea in turn, listens patiently, listlessly. She’s doing very well for herself, wanting to expand her business and earn even more.

You know, I sit here writing this, wondering how exactly to explain the plot of Girlfriend Experience. While certainly “things happen”, the chronology of the film is confusing, constantly darting between moments in time, and the pace meanders around with no real rush at all. This of course (in my opinion) works to Soderbergh’s advantage, but it makes explaining the film to someone somewhat difficult. Chelsea gets interviewed by a journalist. Chelsea sleeps with businessmen. Chelsea is informed of an up-and-coming younger escort who is stealing her clientele. All this, amongst day to day activities of Christine and her boyfriend, Chris (Chris Santos), a personal trainer.

What was most interesting about The Girlfriend Experience was the stance of Soderbergh and writers David Levien and Brian Koppelman towards Chelsea as a character. The camera lingers almost lovingly upon her body and especially her face, whereupon her dimple lights up the frame during those infrequent moments of a visible smile. However, she is also inaccessible, enigmatic, and …bland. This can be attributed perhaps in part to the lesser acting chops of Sasha Grey, but more so I believe this works in favour with Soderbergh’s character (?) study of a young woman whose “real” personality and essence is just as inaccessable to those who care for her and are genuinely interested as her money-obsessed clients. Both a journalist and the sleazy reviewer note that she is bland and uninteresting, and Soderbergh seems to take a certain amount of joy during said sequences. Similarly, there was a resounding wave of laughter as Chelsea remarks to Chris that he’s “so selfish” for not wanting her to go away for a weekend with a client she might be romantically interested in. It becomes increasingly difficult to like or identify with Chelsea as the film continues, yet one finds themselves mesmerised by her, and her surroundings. It appears to me that Soderbergh is making a comment on the money-obsessed world in which Chelsea and Chris (who charges his similarly well-off clinetele $125 an hour for personal training) exist. Conversation is always money-related, Chelsea takes note of the designers of everything she and her clients wear. In a shiny, sleek world, neither the characters nor the audience have much in the way of emotion or “real” personalities to cling onto.

The Girlfriend Experience is a film that leaves one thinking after the end credits have rolled – if you’re into that kind of thing. For those who enjoy being entranced by beautiful cinematography, who are not put off by a chronologically disjointed and confusing plot, and who are not deterred by somewhat of a lack of plot in exchange of a more meandering and thoughtful filmic experience, Soderbergh gives much to chew on. I myself wandered at for at least a couple cigarettes’ worth of time after the screening, taking in the subtleties of what ol’ Steven had explored with his strange and detached character study and wondered how on earth someone keeps something from being so boring and slow to the point of painful and instead brings a thought-provoking and aesthetically beautiful film to the table instead.

Verdict:

Slow, deliberately very “artsy” (not my words) and disjointed, yet interesting and certainly worth sticking with until it picks up the interest-level and starts to tie the seemingly unrelated threads together.

Upon having now seen An Englishman in New York however, I am compelled to purchase and devour Crisp’s memoirs, and find every one of his filmic performances. This is almost entirely due to the stellar, magnetic, light-up-the-screen performance of British legend John Hurt as Crisp, a role he actually first played way back when in 1975. But more about that shortly…

For those of you too lazy to hit up Wikipedia, Quentin Crisp was born Denis Charles Pratt in 1908 in England. Effeminate from early life, he would dye his long hair various colours, paint his nails, wear make up and experiment with women’s clothing. Denied entry into the armed forces (‘sexual perversion’ given as the reason), he modeled in life classes for artists, and published multiple books. It was upon the release of his autobiography Naked Civil Servant however, that his “career” began to take off. Chronicling his early life, it told of the angry responses and homophobic attacks he would receive because of his appearance and refusal to stay in the closet. He was approached by documentarian Denis Mitchell to make a short film, which then resulted in a television film adaptation of Naked Civil Servant, with John Hurt in the title role, hurtling both the actor and Crisp himself into the limelight. It it as this point that director Richard Laxton and writer Brian Fillis take up the story in An Englishman in New York (and yes, the song by Sting is about Quentin Crisp) picks up the story. It spans the last few decades of Crisp’s life, beginning in the late 1970s as fame has hit in Britain and it seems like a move to New York – a city even just as exciting in real life as it is in films, according to Crisp – is the next logical step.

Not being an expert in the life of Quentin Crisp, or of gay culture in New York during the 1980s, I can’t attest as to the accuracy of An Englishman in New York. Having said that though, I felt immediately drawn to the character of Crisp. John Hurt’s portrayal of the flamboyant and endlessly quotable Englishman lights up the screen. He strides confidently through the streets of New York, head held high as if performing for the entire world. He revels in the outlandishness of the city, yet isn’t anything less than completely dignified in his colourful scarves, lipstick and ever-present wide-brimmed hat. Refusing to even attempt housework (after four years the dust can’t get any worse) and insisting on attending every film premiere and dinner party he was invited to (therefore being able to live on “peanuts and champagne”) the utter filmability of this incredible life seems almost too good to be true. Plot-wise, the film follows his rise to fame through one man shows, the backlash to his comment that “AIDs is a fad” and his subsequent refusal to ever apologise for anything he said, his friendship with young artist Patrick Angus (Jonathan Tucker), then later career as a performer with artist Penny Arcade (Sex and the City‘s Cynthia Nixon, who obviously has a blast with the role), taking the viewer right up to his death in 1999.

While Hurt’s performance is obviously the first remarkable thing one notices in this film, I believe that there is much to be said for relative newcomer Jonathan Tucker as the tormented and AIDS-stricken young artist Patrick Angus. His portrayal of the star-struck young man is heartfelt and heartbreaking, upon later consideration appearing to be the emotional core of the film. It’s during these sequences that we see a deeper side to Crisp, not just the flamboyant and unflappable man that the public knows.

While the performances of Hurt, Tucker, and Denis O’Hare as Phillip Steele, Crisp’s close friend are stellar, I have to admit that there was something lacking in An Englishman in New York for me as a film. This may have something to do with the fact that the film was originally made for television and as a result has a running time of precious few minutes over an hour. I would much rather have spent an extra forty five minutes or so with Quentin, learning more about him. With a screenplay spanning about thirty years, events are skimmed over perhaps without the fanfare and depth they should have been afforded. I can’t praise Hurt’s performance enough, but at the film’s close I still wanted to know more about this amazing, fascinating man who did so much for gay rights. I wanted to more emotional depth, I wanted to know more about Phillip Steele, more about his relationship with Penny Arcade, wanted more of an insight into New York in the 1980s.

That really, was my main problem with the film. While certainly it was fascinating, and certainly it was full of fine performances, there was just…not enough. Not enough emotional depth, not enough characterisation, not enough of an insight into a world that I instantly wanted to journey into after just a few minutes of the film’s running time. I highly recommend going to check out An Englishman in New York if you ever get the chance, to learn a little bit about a fascinating personality and extraordinary life…however, a criminally short running time limits the depths in which we as an audience are able to delve into that life.

I can’t speak for the countless other unemployed students in Melbourne, but I do know this: as I stood in line at the Melbourne International Film Festival box office, I felt an overwhelming excitement and anticipation for the two weeks that are laying ahead of me, like a row of Christmas presents each to be unwrapped, a day at a time.

To be honest, despite the ever-growing pile of pre-production work that is accumulating on my desk and on my laptop, this year’s MIFF certainly comes at an ideal time. There’s something about pondering what might lie in store for a cinephile like myself that makes a cinephile like myself forget about said university woes and instead remember why it is I love film in the first place. It may be a slightly romanticised notion of film that I may be putting to you, but I don’t think that as many people would flock to the various venues around Melbourne if there were not some truth to it. That is, that film as an art form (if I am to be so bold) has the power to transport the viewer to new and wonderous or gruesome places, places only imaginable in our worst nightmares, craziest dreams…or providing insights to those universal of human desires and experiences. Or, to just show us a good time. Whatever works.

At any rate, I’ve bought myself a mini-pass (plus a few extra tickets). That’s around $150 of money I plan on spending to its fullest potential, and expect a play-by-play commentary on the comings and goings of the festival. Or rather, the parts of it I see and hear and explore in between tearing myself back to Real Life.

I’ll be revelling in the Anna Karina retrospective, taking in Alphaville (1965), Une Femme Est Une Femme (1961) and Pierrot Le Fou (1965). How can one turn down that much Godard? I think there’s a lot to be said for the skill/genius/pretensious-factor of a filmmaker whose work I will still sprint to watch even after writing a 2500 word esssay on him mere weeks ago. That being said, I won’t lie… if there were ever a woman I would turn for, it would be a 1960s Anna Karina. My oh my, is she something.

Then, I’ll be hitting up the apparently Dr Strangelove-meets-The-Office-esque In the Loop, the Cannes Jury Prize winning Fish Tank and an intriguing Chilean film called The Maid. I’ll be embarking on an epic Steven Soderbergh journey, with The Girlfriend Experience, and his two part biopic of Che Guevara. I’ll be watching a Malaysian satirical musical, a collection of short films (call it inspiration for my semester ahead), a Russian film about cosmonauts that will apparently make me think of Tarkovsky (this I’m looking forward to) and I’ll be watching an American buddy film about porn.

What else? At least nine more films…you’ll just have to wait and see what lies in store!

MIFF is being held around Melbourne, Victoria from July 24 – August 9, 2009.

Directed by Kyle Newman (this being his first film worth noting in any significant way) and written by Ernest Cline and Adam F. Goldberg, Fanboys is quite obviously the work of exactly that: fanboys. Set in 1999, just before the release of The Phantom Menace, the film tells the story of four life-long friends, whose relationship is defined by their passionate love of all things Star Wars. Linus (Chris Marquette), Rush-loving Hutch (Dan Fogler), Windows (Apatow regular Jay Baruchel) and the estranged Eric (Sam Huntington) decide to follow through with their 5th grade plan to road-trip across the country to steal an early print of the long-awaited prequel from one of the most heavily-guarded places on Earth: Skywalker Ranch.

As a film, I believe it succeeds overall. I say this wholeheartedly. However, I’m aware that I’m incredibly biased. Over here in Melbourne, Fanboys has been screened in a limited season at ACMI. In fact, so limited that as I write this, said season ended a few days ago. Anyway, sitting there in the cosy ACMI cinema, my partner-in-all-things-nerd and I surveyed the audience. The overwhelming majority: nerd couples. A none too surprising, very welcome observation. It made for a warm viewing environment in which every reference (and believe me, there’s hundreds) was greeted with roars of laughter and certainly a good chunk of nostalgia. For those of you playing at home, your chance to shine will come in not one but two quizzes the characters in Fanboys are subjected to in order to prove their fandom. From Luke Skywalker’s gunman in Episode V (Dak) to Chewie’s home planet (Kashyyyk), every reference and nod to the world of nerd reflects a genuine warmth and love from those involved with the film. And it’s testament to the film’s charm that the likes of Princess Leia, Lando Calrissian, Darth Maul, Jay and Silent Bob (as they forever will be known) make cameos, as well he-who-transcends-all-scifi-rivalry, WILLIAM SHATNER.

Admittedly, the plot is lacking. The traditional road movie/buddy film story arc is really just an excuse to whip out the nerd gags, Star Trek bashing, cameos, and references. Plot points pass us by, perhaps without the necessary fanfare that they should have been afforded. The romance, conventional and rather unexciting. The coming together of friends, slightly cliched. But then, what more was to be expected? Kristen Bell is sufficiently quirky in her portrayal of a comic-loving love interest. Dan Fogler may appear to be the token crass, gross friend – and he is – but he does it well. Linus may lack the character development to make us care quite enough what happens to him in the end, but like I said, this isn’t a film that I can imagine anyone attending for an in-depth character study. No, we’re here for the gags. And Fanboys does deliver. While the average film-goer will certainly have a good time at this film, Fanboys really is an event for Star Wars fans. Fans, exactly like the nerdy and endearing (if at times two-dimensional) characters we see on the screen.

They are passionate, waxing lyrical (?) of the object – or trilogy – of their undying affection. A heated debate regarding Luke and Leia’s “attraction” suddenly overtakes a serious discussion about a dying friendship. They truly embody the unequivocal, unconditional love for the films and the universe that Mr Lucas has created that is near-impossible to describe to the unconverted. I have tried to do just that at times (in at least two university lectures, if you can believe that), always to the same reaction: that of slightly bewildered faces, laughter, and looks that seem to confirm, “Oh yes. You’re a nerd”. Perhaps that then, is why the cinema was full, why the laughter was so loud, why I suddenly felt the urge to dig out my Rogue Squadron comics (no lie) when I got home after the film.

Do yourself a favour and see the film for yourself. I’m not a reliable gauge, my vision is blurred by the affection I have for Han Solo, and arguing whether he shot first, or Greedo did! I won’t guarantee that you’ll be getting laughs by the Death Star-load if you’re not already steeped in the world of Star Wars, but there is a really good time to be had in the company of these nerds. I do think there’s something to be said for a film with such an infectious energy.

Live long and prosper!
Wow, I feel dirty just writing that…

Fanboys is in limited release across Australia.

At any rate, as someone with a less-than-conventional love life and relationship radar, and as a way to introduce myself to you, here’s a little list from me to you – a filmic antidote to the flowers and chocolate, the sap and sentiment.

What could it possibly be? My top 10 favourite (and therefore, not by any means the MOST) unconventional film couples.

Get ready to be completely smitten.

Or not.

10. Mr Orange & Mr White

Reservoir Dogs (1992)

Unlikely, no? But dear reader, I put it to you that the relationship between Mr Orange (Tim Roth) and Mr White (Harvey Keitel) is perhaps the soul of Dogs, a relationship that is in turns a rollicking ride through Tarantino dialogue country, and completely heartbreaking. Who would have thunk it, something so touching, at the heart of a film in which the only female character utters no more than a scream and fires a shot. Who needs a conventional courtship? Seasoned pro Mr White takes apparent rookie Mr Orange under his wing, shares a taco with him after explaining the finer points of hostage control. It’s testament to Mr Orange, in actuality an undercover cop, that such a discerning professional falls for his “commode” anecdote, and in the end trusts him enough to reveal his real name. As White holds a dying Orange in his arms, defending him to his last breath, it’s hard not to be touched by the tragic turn the film takes. In fact, I challenge you, the interwebbing public, NOT to be moved when Mr Orange, on the edge of his life, tells White his true identity. You can literally see Keitel’s heart shatter into tiny little pieces. Mr Orange, who began as a wary outsider, the mole within the group, is on par with White during this scene as far as pain, bewilderment and heartache.  I know I for one, at first felt angry at Tarantino for ending his film like that, for ruining such a tender moment with a betrayal, then killing all these characters that I had grown to care about. But now, I thank him for slapping (slicing) us in the face with such a film, one that hits us with these characters, tortures them, shoots them, then leaves us to ponder it all, stunned, to the tune of Harry Nilsson.

9. Clarence & Alabama

True Romance (1993)

From one Tarantino film to another (although that is a point that is up for argument among many), number nine brings us tumbling into the rollercoaster romance of Clarence Worely (Christian Slater) and Alabama Whitman (Patricia Arquette). Loner comic store clerk Clarence is set up with hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold on his birthday…only problem is, they fall in love. And love was never going to be smooth sailing in something written by ol’ QT. The newly married couple are set upon from all sides almost immediately by all manner of bad guys and good-for-nothings. Of course, this may have something to do with the suitcase full of cocaine that falls into their possession. Alabama’s pimp Drexyl (hilariously portrayed by Gary Oldman), Christopher Walken’s mob boss, as well as the fuzz all want Clarence and Alabama’s asses to be grasses. Clarence though, a trash-culture quoting, geek who has visions of Elvis urging him to do what has to be done, finds his strength grow through the adversity he and his naive (yet completely bad-ass) young bride have to face. My mother commented to me, as I watched this film for the upteenth time, “this movie’s so VIOLENT! What a horrible film!”, but I have to disagree. Not only are he leads completely arresting (so to speak), but the love story that dwells underneath the madness and carnage is so sweet, so unswerving and hopeful. It’s the kind of love that makes you drive across the country away from the law, makes you gaze at the object of your affection (Christian Slater, back when he was cool) as he slaughters those who stand in your way, thinking over and over, “You’re so cool. You’re so cool. You’re so cool.”

8. Howard Bannister & Judy Maxwell

What’s Up, Doc? (1972)

They don’t make ‘em like they used to. Peter Bogdanovich’s New Hollywood classic harks back to the days of the 1940s screwball comedy. In fact, What’s Up, Doc? is pretty much a remake of Howard Hawks’ 1938 classic, Bringing Up Baby, starring Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant. However, I prefer this version. Is that inviting controversy and criticism, going against the great Howard Hawks? No. Writers never do that, invite controversy.

True to the form of the screwball, Doc has slapstick galore, even slapstick set pieces if you will. It all centers around a hotel, and multiple and identical overnight bags, containing books, jewels, classified FBI documents, and Howard Bannister’s (Ryan O’Neal) igneous rocks. The romance of relevance to this list is between O’Neal and Barbara Streisand… although don’t let that fool you, this is – in my opinion – Streisand’s best and most likable performance to date. She – Judy Maxwell – relentlessly pursues Dr Bannister, undeterred by his uptight fiancee Eunice, or the fact that he seems to despise her and the embarrassment she constantly brings. Embarrassment, the law, mobsters with guns, all after the overnight bag they think is theirs. If only such persistance and obsession (through such absurd circumstances) was rewarded so handsomely in the real world. If only. But, this is the world of screwball comedy, and after a crazy dinner party, a shootout and a car chase through San Francisco, Judy and Howard do end up happily ever after. I think if anything, this film gives hope to the slightly crazed, obsessive in all of us, that we might find the kind, handsome doctor of our dreams (or vice versa), even if they well and truly hate and are petrified of us first.

7. Isaac & Tracy

Manhattan (1979)

For some, watching Manhattan is a slightly uncomfortable exercise considering the well-publicised saga of Woody Allen marrying his wife’s young adopted daughter, but at the same time I think it takes a very cold human being not to be touched by Manhattan. More lyrical in scope than Annie Hall (1977) – probably due to the gorgeous black and white cinematography and the grandiose score, it’s also a more serious look at relationships…without losing that Woody Allen wit. Isaac is in his 40s, a divorcee whose wife left him for another woman. He’s in a loveless relationship with Tracy, a beautiful and intelligent seventeen year old high school student. He soon becomes involved with his friend’s mistress (Diane Keaton), and perhaps falls in love with her…but that’s not the point. No, it’s Tracy to whom he runs across New York for at the end of the film, to tell her not to move to London. His plea to her at the film’s close is quite telling about their relationship, in a few ways. He doesn’t want her to be overseas by herself for six months, because she’ll lose everything he likes about her. As in, her innocence, her youth. To which Tracy replies, “everyone has to get corrupted sometime.” Isaac seems to think that she’s a naive young girl, but in actual fact she is the mature one of the relationship, arguably quite aware that Isaac only liked her for a certain few reasons, and that his profession of love has come as too little, too late. With that knowledge of the dynamics of their relationship, and the fact that Isaac is probably only running back to her because his fling with Diane Keaton’s character has gone awry, there is still something alarmingly touching about seeing this forty year old pleading with a high schooler not to leave, asking over and over if she still loves him. Could it be the music playing in the background? Perhaps. Or the longing look on Allen’s face? Probably.

6. Angela & Emile & Alfred

A Woman is a Woman (Une Femme est Une Femme) (1961)

I could have been obvious and written about Breathless. Or perhaps Jules et Jim, another love triangle of the nouvelle vague. But obvious is not the game of this list. Une Femme est Une Femme, is Godard, is Anna Karina, is Belmondo…all at their most playful and self-referrential. The film centers on Emile (Jean-Claude Brialy) and his striptease artist girlfriend Angela (Anna Karine, Godard’s gorgeous wife). She wants to have a baby, he doesn’t. Instead, she goes after his best friend, Alfred (portrayed by the effortlessly cool Jean-Paul Belmondo). Sounds sinister, I know. But the film itself is one of the most joyous excursions in romance and fun I’ve ever experienced. Combined with ironic little references to other films and actors of the nouvelle vague, the soundtrack, the performances, the characters all exude the feeling that one finds themselves enveloped in when you’re falling in love with someone. You want to dance, you want to sing, you want to do all manner of silly things. So in effect, this is not so much an unconventional couple (although it is), but more so an unconventional way of portraying said romance to the unsuspecting audience.

5. Enid & Seymour

Ghost World (2001)

Jack: “Ghost World?”

Reb: “Yeah, Ghost World.”

Jack: “Fuck that. Every girl around loves that movie. ‘Oh my god, it’s about ME!’”

I have a confession to make. I fell in love with Steve Buscemi during this film. Well and truly, absolutely. And I also love this movie. Something has to be said about a film that makes you look a little differently at the middle-aged weirdos that hang out at record stores. I acknowledge that a fair few of these listed couples have been spring/autumn romances, but I make no apologies…these are some of the most interesting filmic portrayals of love and/or lust I’ve seen. Enid – a sarcastic high school girl – and Seymour – the aging record collector – enter into a strange sort of friendship, brought about by a mean prank that went on a little too long. Even though by the end of the film, Seymour might just be the last straw before Enid realises she has to leave her home and circle of existence, throughout its running time, Ghost World chronicles quite a poignant connection between two complete outsiders. While her best friend enters the real world, Enid (Thora Birch) remains just as weird, just as unwilling to co-operate as she was during high school. Of course, any number of people can identify with that feeling (whatever my cynical friend says), and it’s a heartwarming scene to watch, when two people, so mismatched yet so alike find each other in the strangest of circumstances.

4. Cop 663 & Fay

Chungking Express (1994)

Although Wong Kar-Wai’s Chungking Express is essentially two separate love stories in one film, and even though they’re both worthy of essays unto themselves (believe me, I know…I wrote one at uni last semester. It was epic), I’m going to focus on the second half, the romance between Cop 663 (Tony Leung) and Fay (Fay Wong). Cop 663, a regular at the Midnight Express, has just been broken up with by his flight attendant girlfriend. Fay’s just started working at the Midnight Express, and spends her days listening to the Mamas and the Papas’ “California Dreamin’” turned up to eleven so she “doesn’t have to think”. After what seems like initial indifference, Fay quickly becomes obsessed with Cop 663, and starts breaking into his apartment, rearranging his possessions in fun-filled, music driven sequences that seem to teeter on the edge of reality and daydream. Did the apartment really flood, start to “cry”? Did Fay really sneak out while he was there, or was that just wishful thinking? The fact that Cop 663 asks out Fay at all seems like a small miracle by the film’s close, considering Fay’s quirky idiosyncrasies, and Cop 663′s seeming inability to move on from his ex (and his straight-laced status as a cop). I think it’s largely due to Faye Wong’s performance that Chungking Express is as charming as it is. Faye is almost overly eccentric, but is also amazingly human. Who hasn’t daydreamed those sort of fantasies before? The only difference here, is that she gets away with it. She rearranges 663′s apartment and life, only to turn around at the last minute and do something similarly as impulsive. 663 though is all the better for it, has begun to move on with his life. The entire film centers on memory and time, and their relationship. Faye though, is constantly looking forward, but without a plan. Don’t worry, I won’t ruin the ending for you the interwebbing public, but rest assured that it won’t be what you’re expecting.

3.  Withnail & Marwood

Withnail & I (1987)

Similar to Mr White and Mr Orange, the relationship between Withnail (Richard E. Grant) and Marwood (Paul McGann) walks the edge of a precipice of homosexuality. Certainly, there’s no female characters, certainly, the two leads are rather flamboyant, and certainly Withnail’s Uncle Monty becomes rather smitten with (the admittedly, gorgeous) Marwood, but I would argue that the two men are more so friends that are completely devoted to each other. Two struggling actors, Marwood seems to be swept up in the wake of Withnail, his charismatic and alcoholic roommate. Together they attempt to escape the mess and downward spiral of their apartment and their lives by taking a weekend in the country. Unfortunately what that entails is a rather horny uncle, hideous weather and unfriendly locals. Again, all the two men have is each other, literally huddling together through the night, them against the world. Essentially, Bruce Robinson’s Withnail & I can be seen as a tale of, “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone”, from the point of view of both men. Marwood narrates, but at the film’s close, when he leaves for a faraway acting job, Withnail is left alone in the rain with a bottle of wine, reciting Hamlet to an invisible audience. For while Withnail might have been holding back the more “together” Marwood in more ways than one (in life and professionally), Withnail is the type of companion that only comes around blue moon, someone whose spell one needs to be under, however destructive it may be. Flamboyant, alcoholic, loyal and compltely unhinged. That is the tragedy of their relationship, that they cannot continue to be together, one has to move forward, leaving the other behind.

2. Clarice Starling & Hannibal Lecter

the Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Honestly. I don’t think there’s anything more unconventional than a psychopathic cannibal and a rookie FBI agent. Should I even bother going into the plot of the film? I’m sure you’ve all seen it. It’s a classic. And besides, it’s getting rather late for me to be delving into my brain and pulling out insightful comments. Perhaps I should have started at this end of the list and worked up? Too late for that now. What I find most interesting about this mismatched relationship is the to-ing and fro-ing between the minds of the two characters. The mind games that gifted psychiatrist Dr Lecter plays with Clarice turn from that of two people trying to figure out each other and push boundaries, to one of (almost) mutual admiration and respect. It gets to the point where, even when one is distracted by Anthony Hopkins now-to-the-point-of-farce performance of Lecter, that we at times forget that he’s such a brutal murderer, we just see him as this intelligent man wrestling with Clarice.

1. Harold & Maude

Harold and Maude (1971)

Remember what I said about no apologies for all these spring/autumn romances? Well, I’m going to turn the tables on this one. Hal Ashby’s (and he’s one of the most interesting filmmakers of the 1970s, in my opinion) Harold and Maude is one of the strangest movie pairings of all time. Hence the spot at number one. Harold is a rich, twenty year old man-boy who spends his time watching buildings getting demolished and faking suicides to gain attention from his mother. Maude is seventy-nine, an anarchist, and has a unique bent on life. They meet at a funeral. There you go. Boy meets girl. They spend time together, they might fall in love. Without a doubt, Maude changes Harold’s perspective on life. It’s all well and good to see an old man with a young woman, but I for one think it’s amazingly refreshing (even almost forty years later) to see a young man have his life turned around by a woman four times his age. Who says the oldies are redundant? A relationship forged on such a connection, between such polar opposites. Or are they opposites? I’ll let you be the judge. I also won’t reveal the ending. It’s not a matter of me being lazy, and it being way past my bed time. It’s a matter of wanting to share this film, and these two characters with you. Unconventional, perhaps. Irrelevant, certainly not!