I was in my first year of Film Studies at the University of Derby when
Run, Lola, Run (1998) came out. I sat down with six fellow filmgoers at the beautiful (and now tragically closed down)
Green Lane site of the
Metro Cinema and was just blown away by the visceral fusion of kinetic pace and techno soundtrack. A simple premise, 90 minutes split into 3 sections, each section illustrating the same narrative, only slightly different from the prior. Those 90 minutes just flew by. At the time no–one had heard of it yet by the third year it took proud placement upon many a dorm-room shelf alongside
Withnail and I (1987) and
Heat (1995). Cult status it seemed had been achieved.
With “The International”, German Director
Tom Tykwer returns to the genre that gave him that amazing breakthrough in ’99. For this reason alone expectations were high despite the fact that all his films since have either flopped commercially (
Heaven, 2002), critically (
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, 2006) or more often than not, both (
The Princess and the Warrior, 2006).
Early reports suggest that his latest effort will also tick both boxes. Unlike Run, Lola, Run it is anything but straightforward. Tykwer's ability to handle such a complex plot and large budget ($50 mil as opposed to $1.75 mil) has been vastly over estimated. Shot across multiple locations (as the title would suggest), Interpol agents Louis Salinger (
Clive Owen) and Eleanor Whitman (
Naomi Watts) attempt to track down and arrest corrupt bank (IBBC) officials whose prime interest we are told is not in cash, but debt. Control the debt and you control everything supposedly. They do a nice side line in arms too.
Tykwer’s ability to orchestrate action sequences has never been disputed. Here they are few and far between but those that do feature live up to expectation. The pinnacle of which is a heart-pounding assassination sequence involving a political figure and a sniper rifle (enough said). It is the film’s centre piece however that is garnering all the attention. And so it should, the extremely ambitious shoot-out in New York’s
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum starts off well but descends into improbable cliché. An architectural landmark of the 20th Century, complete with its iconic winding walkway becomes a perfect location for a shoot-out, especially when non-functioning elevators limit escape routes to an "only one way up/one way down” scenario. But don’t worry; clunky exposition is the least of our concerns by this point.
It’s during the remaining run time (when action is not prevalent) that the film’s real flaws come to light. Audience attention will be faltering due to a flawed script (“
Don’t you [expletive]
die on me”), bad delivery (Owen develops an Irish accent for said quote??) and almost lifeless cinematography. We are told Salinger’s last case was lost due to his temperament and yet in the archetypal boiling-point scene (when the red-tape becomes too much) he is left to rant in a static
mid-shot (see below). His actions are on full display as arms flail and hands grab and snatch random crime scene photos from his office walls. It’s cringing to watch.
The action sequences are not nearly enough to keep this one afloat. Fans of Owen and Watts can quite easily pass two hours but I’d urge you to check out the real paranoia classics from 70’s American cinema,
All the Presidents Men (1976),
The Conversation (1974) or the much more recent and vastly underrated
Michael Clayton (2007).
Last night's beautifully restored digital presentation of Mr. Hulot's Holiday reaffirmed what I originally thought when viewed for the first time, just 2 weeks ago. It's a five star classic! Having heard so much about the film for so long but never having had the chance to catch it, I snapped up a ticket two weeks ago to see it as a one-off special screening at the Ciné lumière. And, as the highlight of their "Totally Tati" season, it didn't disappoint.
