Cast: Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer, Sean Young, Daryl Hannah
Director: Ridley Scott
Screenplay: Hampton Fancher
Running time: 1 hr 57 mins
Genre: Sci-Fi
CRITIQUE:
Post-film debate that circulate around Blade Runner (whichever cut you’ve seen, as there are three) is mostly about whether Harrison Ford’s Deckard is a replicant or not – and often not on the astonishing production quality of this film, its technical achievements, and visual aesthetics. For Ridley Scott’s sci-fi masterpiece is undeniably a stunning feat in filmmaking that set as a benchmark for hundreds of imitators to come, or rather inspired followers. If you’ve seen Spielberg’s Artificial Intelligence and the Wachowski brothers’ revolutionary The Matrix (ignore its two sequels), then you can identify the Blade Runner influence. This transcends into the Kubrickian territory, up there in the pantheon where 2001: A Space Odyssey belongs, yet remains uniquely on its own.
The year is 2019, and if you’ve watched a handful of the clichéd “dystopian future” flicks already, you’ll succumb that this is the template of them all. The opening panorama shows the City of Angels looking like a vision of hellish architecture, a cityscape that spews with tongues of flame into the air; a metropolis with ziggurat-like structures. Remember this was all done when PC’s were still as enormous as your wardrobe; and the use of models and effects make it even more incredible. As much as it is tagged as science-fiction, it is also a distinctive film noir, with a crepuscular cinematography, that is darkly-lit, with a rain-lashed landscape and accentuated with neon lights and the use of dramatic shafts of luminosity, made by a presumably dying sun. Observe Deckard’s visit to Tyrell’s lair and meeting the mysterious Rachel; there’s a skilled interplay of lighting in the scene, where a filtered glow gives mood and atmosphere.
So much for its technical aspects, which rise above the many facets of this film, perhaps most of us pretty much know what happen in here. Deckard’s an ex-policeman summoned forth to hunt down four escaped replicants, and one by one, as he terminates them, he understands, like peeling layers upon layers of onion skin, the morality of human replication. With its sci-fi trappings, Blade Runner is actually a deeper, profound, quasi-religious and psychological prodding on humanity’s will to live and survive. It is theorised that Tyrell is playing the God-complex and that Roy is the Christ-figure, created to die (there’s also other nods, watch Roy save Deckard from falling using a wounded hand with a nail, and his clutching of a white dove). To sidestep that, there’s a more human film in here, especially in its characters. Harrison Ford’s Rick Deckard sets the template to many identity-in-question flicks; using an effortless appeal, yet burning with ambiguity, probably one his most memorable roles in his entire career (along with that whippersnapper of a man that wears a fedora hat). Sean Young’s Rachel presents a manufactured sense of physical beauty, but confused of her human capabilities. Her confrontation with Deckard in his apartment, along with her discovery of emotions, is a compelling watch. Daryl Hannah’s Pris also leaves an impression as the feline femme-fatale, but it’s definitely Rutger Hauer’s Roy, whose character comes so dangerously close to being a villain stereotype, but saves it at the last minute (thanks to the excellent script!) that the sense of villainy in this film is diminished and becomes even more enigmatic – his Roy is not a villain, but a created being in search for answers, deprived of the right to live and the morale of being a fully-pledged human. His final line: “All those moments will be lost in time... like tears... in rain... Time to die...” is tragic, poetic, and unforgettable.
It has an ending that will raise the brows of many, hence the debate on Deckard’s identity, as shown in the film, a vision of a unicorn and an origami later, there is a twist on the tale. But then again, the question should not be whether Deckard is a replicant or not. This is why the film is made, to make us ask ourselves, are we created to die, or created to live? "Wake up. It's time to die."
VERDICT:
Much-doubted on release but now, in varying levels, this is a sci-fi masterpiece as much as a reflection on humanity’s life and death. Blade Runner is a searing, complex cinema, marvellously made and beautifully human.
RATING: A+
Cast: Gene Hackman, Angelica Huston, Gwyneth Paltrow, Ben Stiller, Luke
Wilson, Owen Wilson, Danny Glover, Bill Murray
Director: Wes Anderson
Screenplay: Wes Anderson, Owen Wilson
Running time: 1 hr 45 mins
Genre: Comedy/Drama
CRITIQUE:
The genre of dysfunctional family drama-cum-comedy is a breed that is consistently expanding. It’s usually because almost everyone can relate to a domestic fracas of any form. To Wes Anderson’s cinematic language, dysfunctional means the weirder his characters are, the more fascinating they can be. In THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS, we get all sorts of eccentric personas, who have eccentric habits, and all exist in eccentric circumstances. Yet no matter how trippy this film can get, jettisoned with odd and loony situations, the talent of Anderson is that he never misses the heartbeat of his characters. That in spite of the intricacy and absurdity of this certain Tenenbaum family, there’s something very moving and human in its key players. And although the laughable sequences sparkle, it’s really in its quietest of moments that makes the film shine.
This is a too bizarre family to relate to: Royal Tenenbaum (a wonderful Gene Hackman) is blamed for his three children’s fall from grace, once child prodigies, now damaged, insubordinate adults. Chas (Ben Stiller) loses his wife and adopts an obsessive-compulsive complex on the safety of his two boys; Richie (Luke Wilson) smashes a tennis career and goes sailing in some distant oceans; and Margot (Gwyneth Paltrow), a successful playwright turned bed-hopper turned chain-smoker. The mother is an archaeologist (Angelica Huston), who falls in love with a colleague (Danny Glover). It’s a film embroidered with tons of details, from its characters, and even from its narration, which serves a commentary companion to the family. Nevertheless, it’s all made absurdly rich and engrossingly human. There’s a wounded soul beneath Paltrow’s eyeliner-smeared eyes; or a thwarted, unconsummated love within the sad looks of Luke Wilson; or an overprotecting father in Ben Stiller’s Chas; and even a sincere truthfulness in Hackman’s Pop when he decides to atone.
Like its storyline, Anderson matches his quirky dialogues (one-liners are plentiful, thanks to the writing pair of Anderson and Owen Wilson) with his visual tactics, using chapter titles as his device in editing. His camera always moves in careful measurement, and he shoots his New York in an almost dreamy sepia-glow and adorns his characters with strong, retro-themed clothing, making them stand out. And like most good family dysfunctional dramas, it finds humour in the darkest of matters. Take the conclusion for example, read the epitaph on the tombstone carefully – it’s an impact that will make you both laugh and cry. There’s a very, very sad and lonely portrait of family in here, but it reminds us that our dysfunctions are what makes us human, and also what makes us laugh and smile despite of it all.
VERDICT:
A wacky, absurd dysfunctional family dramedy that has some dark, depressing matters streaming underneath, but tackled by Wes Anderson with such a lighthearted, quirky charm that never misses a heartbeat.
RATING: A-
Cast: Jamie Bell, Bill Pullman
Director: Thomas Vinterberg
Screenplay: Lars von Trier
Running time: 1 hr 40 mins
Genre: Indie/Drama
CRITIQUE:
As the first full-length film viewing in our Film Studies lecture, DEAR WENDY is an unusual choice. Perhaps it coincides with the fact that this is an unusual film, with subtext of controversy running underneath its belly. What’s interesting is that this can be viewed in different levels. For one, this is Lars von Trier’s social commentary, or perhaps allegory, on the gun-toting culture of the West, specifically America; a genre to which he is no stranger at, after his brilliantly provocative DOGVILLE, which touched on the strands of violence in society. Secondly, it’s a tale of bond and friendship between misfits of a neighbourhood, whose unspoken desire is belongingness in the community. Sort of THE BREAKFAST CLUB made Western with guns. And thirdly, this can be viewed as a lonely young man’s love affair to his gun, aptly named Wendy.
Pretentiously slow-burning at times, riddled with fantastical elements (adolescent fantasies involved dressing up in their so-called “Temple” and unsheathe their guns like swords) and contrived narration, but nevertheless instilled with surprises and character humanity. We concede to believe that their guns are their allies, their best friends, companions that bolster their confidence and shield them with bravado – a picture that chillingly resonates into the modern times of teenage gang violence. Jamie Bell, renowned for being BILLY ELLIOTT, gives a restrained performance as Dick, the naive, resentful adolescent honcho of The Dandies, a moniker baptised to the gang of outsiders. Points also to originality, as it takes a darkly romantic view into these teenagers penchant for holding guns and evoking their rites of passage almost religiously, save for a climax that is perhaps BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID inspired, where a massive shoot-out takes place in a square. It’s over-the-top, somewhat absurd, but it somehow makes sense to what the story is trying to convey.
VERDICT:
It bathes in the sepia tone of Western films, sulks in the angst of adolescent flicks, and basks in the cinema of gun-culture; hardly involving, contrived at times, but a stimulating watch.
RATING: B
Cast: Oskar Werner, Henri Serre, Jeanne Moreau
Director: François Truffaut
Screenplay: François Truffaut
Running time: 1hr 47 mins
Genre: French Cinema/Drama/Romance
CRITIQUE:
One of the most important events in cinema history is the French New Wave (call it the French Revolution of movies), where plot is rot, and common filmmaking techniques are snubbed, paving way for character-driven, psychoanalytical approach and brimming with creative input. That – is wonderfully epitomised by François Truffaut’s third film JULES ET JIM, one of his most enduring works, and remains a highly influential piece of cinema today. Ask Quentin Tarantino and Cameron Crowe.
Shot in beautiful black-and-white, this tells the story of friendship between two writers, Jules and Jim, distilling their adventures and escapades spanning the time of 25 years, yet never loses its footing on the richness of details and the humanity of the characters. Although the title is given to the two friends, the whole movie is really owned by the woman that comes between them, Catherine, a heartbreaking, revolutionary performance by Jeanne Moreau, embodying the slipperiness of idealistic love and the unpredictability of her humanity. She veers from being a total maverick to a woman whose sense of settlement mystifies her. Definitely one of cinema’s most awe-inspiring moments is when she expresses her protest for being ignored by jumping into the Seine River in a cold night.
Here, Truffaut put into effect his visual flair, using film techniques that were considered fresh and invigorating at the time; his visual palette consists of hand-held cameras that zooms and pans across the screen. A scene where the face of Jeanne Moreau is fixed against a moving panorama of rolling hills is incredibly inventive. For many, this is less of an appeal, as there is more talk than walk. But for Hollywood’s conventional practise, this is a hard diamond that withstands the test of time, dealing with more psychological probing (notice closely, the great films of today are those flowing with such psychological depth).
VERDICT:
The most definitive ménage-à-trois of cinema, this exquisite, glorious meditation on the psychological side of love is a timeless tour-de-force. Behold the bliss of cinema.
RATING: A
If Top Movie Lists make you feel giddy, or just plainly wondered whether your perennial faves have made it to the ultimate countdown, then there's no better way to check than Empire Magazine's 500 GREATEST MOVIES OF ALL TIME. Voted by 10,000 Empire readers (I, for one), 150 of Hollywood's finest personages, and 50 influential movie critics - this, quote Empire's words herein, "the most ambitious movie poll ever attempted".
And boy, it's a whopper of a list. Film fanatics ignite. Most of my favourites have made it at least within the 100-frame ie. Schindler's List, Pulp Fiction, The Godfather, The Shawshank Redemption, and so much more. However, if you just can't be bothered clicking away like a megalomaniac and cutting your fingernails by the razors of your teeth, wondering which the hell made it to the coveted Number One spot, I shouldn't spoil it for you. But here's a clue, it's an offer you can't refuse... Now that just spoils a lot.
Click the tiny banner for the colloseum of a list.
Cast: Lee Page, Catinca Unkaru, Justine Waddell
Director: Tarsem
Screenplay: Tarsem
Running time: 1 hr 57 mins
Genre: Adventure/Drama
CRITIQUE:
It’s particularly hard to ignore the making of THE FALL, which is an epic creation in itself – 4 years in the making and shot around 28 locations in 18 different countries, globe-trotting from Los Angeles, Prague, India, Bali, South America – branded auteur Tarsem stil doesn’t know how to delegate and takes hold of the creative control of his picture. He directs, writes and splash his own moolah over this pet-project in what many call a filmmaker’s foolish decadence. But, after seeing this much-doubted cinematic toil, Tarsem’s work is nothing less than extraordinary, and all that grandiosity is worth it. This could be the year’s most artfully, gorgeously shot film, and perhaps one of the strangest, most unique piece of cinema you’ll ever see in your life.
Laborious as it was made, it’s obvious there’s a toll on its storyline: for many, it takes ages to get where it is going. For at the very crux at this film is a story about storytelling and the importance of imagination. The year is 1915, and the setting is in Los Angeles hospital; a movie stuntman Roy is injured and paralysed, taking away his profession, and whose girlfriend eloped with a co-actor. He turns suicidal and uses a local girl Alexandria, who’s also a patient who suffered from a fall, hence its title, to scout morphine tablets for him. What ensue is a bond of friendship and a wonderful evocation of the power of imagination; him as the storyteller, and his words become the pictures in the little girl’s mind.
The dreamlike sequences stand out as an achievement. The sepia-toned opening sequence in slow-motion sets the atmosphere of the film, eccentric and oddly real all the same. It brims with old-school filmmaking where everything is shot on actual location, rather than in gigantic rooms with green screens. From the harsh beauty of the deserts, to the stunning “Butterfly Island”, the blue city, to the inner labyrinth of a pyramidal structure – these are place we never thought have existed, more exotic and fantastic than your common Indiana Jones or James Bond shooting locations. Although the visual flamboyance triumphs more than its Wizard of Oz-like parallel-world story, where a group of five mystical men, the Black Bandit as its leader, journeys to avenge against Governor Odious, an evil tyrant who spawned ill-fate on the heroes – how loony, preposterous it can be, it’s in the relationship between the storyteller and the listener that remains a moving experience. The two main characters are polar to each other; he loses hope and tries to pitch his own personal tragedy to the story he’s making, while every single word matters to the child, and every single hero’s fate in the story makes sense to her. This is the emotional core of the film, and these two roles are perfectly nailed by Lee Pace as the pessimistic failed stuntman and this certain young Romanian actress Catinca Unkaru in an astonishingly, beautifully naturalistic performance. Perhaps one of the best child performances you’ll see out there. She is the film’s truest gem.
VERDICT:
With bonkers sequences, certainly this not a film for everyone – but for cinema lovers, this is truly a one-of-a-kind visualist’s experience. Flawed yet oozing with sublime perfection, THE FALL is a work of ironic beauty between the virtue of fantasy and the cruelty of reality.
RATING: A-
Cast: Isabelle Huppert, Benoit Magimel
Director: Michael Haneke
Screenplay: Michael Haneke
Running time: 2 hrs 5 mins
Genre: Foreign Film/Drama
CRITIQUE:
A piano teacher, especially French, has a lot of reasons to be a romanticist. Music and romance can be the champagne and caviar to besotted lovers. However, this is not that tale. Instead, L A PIANISTE is a dark, brooding foray into the lethal flipside of love; a complex, psychologically disturbing exploration on sexually-charged feelings gone haywire. With the elements presented, thereby this is no easy watch, certainly not a walk in the park. This is a slow-burning, thinking film, and it shocks you in places where you least expect.
The main protagonist is the titular professor Erika Kohut, an impossibly stern, fractiously forbidding form of a human being, whose smile is as dry as ice. Seeing students suffer under her tutelage is her secret amusement. But deep down inside, there is a pent-up, sexually repressed fortysomething woman whose greatest desire is a list of masochistic fantasies. So when a handsome student Walter falls in love and discovers her ravishes, the table is turned and he is nothing short of disgusted. What could have been a pursuit of impossible love becomes a demented, perverted trip to madness, with scenes that speak of daring honesty; one stand-out is the encounter in the bathroom where Erika demands an upper-hand, another is the riveting climax scene in the apartment where she gets her wish and he turns into an intruder.
It can be an appalling watch to many, and it is easy to assume that the majority won’t like the character of Erika. She’s selfish, arrogant, envious, perverted; she’s not the person to sympathise with. Yet she’s devastatingly human, ridden with anguish, despair, and fraught with self-humiliation – that’s how amazing the performance of Isabelle Huppert is. Watch her transformation from a strict, severe disciplinarian to a passive, hopeless woman-in-need. Beside her is a solid actor Benoit Magimel, who plays Walter Klemmer as an intelligent student, not struck by folly love but by passion.
After all, Michael Haneke doesn’t make easy-to-watch films. His works are mostly agonising to view, but he lets his audience to make an impression on his characters and surprise them with raw-edged humanity. He takes long shots of empty spaces where his humans can freely move and express. And given the subject matter of the film, he veers the student-teacher relationship story into a deeper, distraught level that is haunting and wholly intriguing. The 2002 Cannes Grand Prix was a worthy prize.
VERDICT:
An emotionally cruel exploration into the disturbing territory of masochist fantasies, but moreover, LA PIANISTE is a mesmerising tale about sexual anguish, maddening frustrations, and lost love, all rooted by a magnificent performance by Isabelle Huppert. Unconventional and unforgettable.
RATING: A
Cast: Edward Norton, Liv Tyler, Tim Roth
Director: Louis Letterier
Screenplay: Zak Penn
Running time: 1 hr 54 mins
Genre: Comic Book/Action
CRITIQUE:
Ang Lee’s HULK was a misunderstood monster. A good hour into the film, there’s a lot of talk, and less balls-to-the-wall crashing and banging. To many, the $150-million budgeted flick was a ponderous, dragging waste of time, and received mixed reviews from critics worldwide. Because it seemed Lee’s vision was less-feted, and Eric Bana and Jennifer Connelly weren’t sufficient enough, they needed a recasting. A whole upheaval of the franchise and a change of director later, we have Louis Letterier, the man behind the TRANSPORTER flicks, on board along with Mr ‘Fight Club’ Edward Norton and Liv Tyler as conflicted scientist Bruce Banner and pained love-interest Betty Ross, respectively.
The result: an extra word attached to the title that scream of superlatives, but it stays nothing short but adequate. A few minutes into this newly-charged superhero movie, sidestepping the opening credits montage, we get an abrupt retelling of backstory through images, crammed in a space of a single breath. Instead we are told of an experiment gone wrong, a slight distortion of the real story; so when we finally get our oxygen molecules back, the scene is set. The Brazilian favelas become the setting, and the anguish-ridden plot of its predecessor transforms into a Bourne-like fugitive escape. The sequences are quick, concise and brutally effective, but if you’re looking for characterisation, you’ll be disappointed. Norton’s Banner is a frail-looking scientist on the run, with the military hot on his heels, and lacks the wrath and Freudian angst that Hulk is supposed to possess. Doesn’t he get very mad to turn into the smashing monster, and not relying on the pace of his heartbeat? Norton delivers the goods, but despite of his involvement of the script writing process, the plot leans on heavily on finding the cure instead of understanding the monster within. But that flaw is somewhat saved by the film’s warmest heart in the form of Liv Tyler as the feisty, sacrificial Betty, and she shares a few of the film’s best moments.
Still, it could not quite cover the fact that this regeneration of HULK needs a bigger, better spectacle. So they bring in Tim Roth’s Abomination, a reptilian-like mutated monster, in a knuckle-gnawing city showdown, like an over-amplified, adrenaline-busting episode of a WWE smackdown, except that one uses splintered cars as boxing gloves and tear around buildings without a rink. It’s all enthrallingly entertaining, and the fight-fest finale is a guilty pleasure to watch – but as soon as the dust settles, there’s very little depth here. While Ang Lee’s version is nonetheless very flawed, it still remains the superior one in many aspects. His was an arthouse film covered in comic book movie wrappings. Letterier’s is an action-cum-wrestling-match that offers little of emotional core. At least his HULK doesn’t leap from peak to peak, and doesn’t have stretchy pants.
VERDICT:
A passable adaptation. Letterier’s style is a hasty, no-nonsense stab. Effective, yet it falls short of Ang Lee’s visual panache and id-analysis. This HULK lacks the gravitas and meat, and rather goes for the rampage and smash.
RATING: B-
Cast: Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, Jeff Bridges, Cuba Gooding Jr.
Director: Jon Favreau
Screenplay: Mark Fergus
Running time: 2 hrs 6 mins
Genre: Action/Adventure/Comic Book
CRITIQUE:
In the superhero movie canon, a formula is most common, if not essential, especially in origin stories. Spiderman couldn’t have battled those baddies without the angsty backstory of sacrifice; Batman couldn’t have instilled justice in Gotham without overcoming his own fears; Superman couldn’t have fought with passion if he didn’t discover what true love really was. Same applies with IRON MAN, before we see the high-flying metal clash, we get the welding process of the ironclad hero. Origin stories are tricky creatures, they fumble in pursuit of grasp, some evolve with success but some result in clutter. Thankfully, IRON MAN is saved, kudos to its biggest hero, Robert Downey Jr. With his whip-smart swagger, easygoing millionaire fella, his Tony Stark is not your average superhero. Whilst the rest of the heroes in the comic book plethora suffer in social anguish, or the pains of heartbreak, Downey’s Stark is almost an oblique persona, whose ego is as big as his name. He doesn’t care about his financing of America’s ultra-weapons, as long as the bucks are cashing in and he preserves the nation’s militia’s might, he’s alright. So when he pulls the swerve of his character arc, after being imprisoned in the lair of Afghan terrorists and building his crudest iron armour imaginable, he develops a conscience that the film consistently thrusts upon – this is the work of Downey, and you’ve got to give him credits for that. The icon of Iron Man not only fits him impeccably, he owns the role.
Nevertheless there are glitches. Incessantly, we are forced to ask how the hell did the terrorist not notice Stark building his armour when he was in relentless surveillance? And how in the world could it be possible to finish off the rest of his armour in less than a day? Then there were the thrills, seemingly to cover the holes of logic. And what a spectacle; the visual effect of the finalised scarlet-and-gold iron suit is an impeccable graphics design that could rival the technical brilliance of TRANSFORMERS. On the whole, if we were to summarise the film, it spends most of its storyline around the building of the titular hero’s suit, throwing in branches of plot for good measure. Gwyneth Paltrow gives affection to the film as the secretary Pepper Potts, and Jeff Bridges is almost unrecognisable as Obadiah Staine, the main right-hand man turned villain.
Once you’ve gone past the snappy, humour-filled beginning and have seen the explosive ending, albeit swiftly executed, you’ll learn that there’s a low-point inbetween half. But thanks to a cracking script, IRON MAN never ceases to be a fun ride, with clunks and clatter, this is often funny superhero movie that’s different from any other. One that dares to be original.
VERDICT:
The force that keeps the heart of IRON MAN beating is the talent extraordinaire of Downey Jr. Albeit with flaws, cue a not-so-slick finale, this is an entertaining superhero romp that’s fresh, invigorating and a touch humorous.
RATING: B+
Cast: Mike Myers, Jessica Alba
Director: Marco Schnabel
Screenplay: Mike Myers
Running time: 1 hr 30 mins
Genre: Comedy
CRITIQUE:
The last time we’ve checked, a Hollywood comedy mogul wasted bucks on nonsense, cheap laughs in the form of YOU DON’T MESS WITH THE ZOHAN. Adam Sandler was wasting words and spit on that one. Now, another comedy tycoon is about to face the effect of the laws of diminishing returns. After his Austin Powers skit and his Shrek outings (the third Shrek was a pitfall), here he devises another character but making it perhaps inadvertently the same as the raunchy spy he played but only with facial hair and wearing a rather orangey Indian outfit. His name is Guru Pitka, and after viewing this film, you don’t want to know anything about him anymore.
Even ZOHAN and NORBIT has a plot, but GURU plods like its elephants, never knowing where it’s heading. Fart, racial, penis, sex gags are thrown in to supposedly enliven the very dry and juiceless script – but they never work, and instead only compares to those spoof movies out there, only that this is not a spoof film. It parodies itself, and the result is a butt-numbing, jaw-clenching mess. The laughs you hear is as dry as your nearest desert, and as shallow as your paddling pond, and the ironically for an Indian-accented movie, the only thing that proved amusing was the Guru’s acronym-definition of the Bible.
Jessica Alba and Justin Timberlake co-stars but seemed like they’re just employed as stand-ins, whose characters are as flimsy as cardboard sheets, like those character stand-ins you see outside cinemas. Alba is dull, even her starpower couldn’t save the downhill-rolling plot development, and Timberlake is misused as the bawdy “La Coq”. On the whole, it seems that what THE LOVE GURU really needs is a script-slash-jokes guru.
VERDICT:
Crass, turgid and absolutely unfunny – 15 minutes after the movie, you’ll never remember anything except for Mike Myers’ penchant for sex-and-genital jokes, which are all very childish. Don’t expect for an Austin Powers trip, or at least a Shrek humour, because THE LOVE GURU is a stinkhole.
RATING: F
Genre: Indie/Folk
Label: Universal
CRITIQUE:
Like what Vampire Weekend have done to the genre of Afro-pop, Noah and the Whale does to folk. This quartet Londoners fuse to give a much-needed breath of fresh air on the scene filled with racket of Brit bands and endless cacophonies to drumbeats and guitar-strings. Noah and the Whale, quite appropriately named after the film The Squid and The Whale, is exactly what their music suggests: indie, offbeat but perceptive and strung with emotional chords. Let not be their melodies fool you, that their music is the musical equivalent of sunshine on your window on a lovely morning, listen more closely as there is a beautifully, almost-poetic written lyrics that touches with so much pathos, atmosphere, despair, hope, passion, love found, and then lost. Like Coldplay’s Viva La Vida or Death and All of His Friends, they have a fascination on death and the pain of love. The album’s liveliest beat is “5 Years Time”, brimming with sweet honesty, like a song you would expect to hear in a film like Little Miss Sunshine or Napoleon Dynamite – but broaden your mind and open your ears, there are much better tracks in the pack. The longing, achingly great “Shape of My Heart”, the exceptional “Do What You Do”, the pain and hurt of “Second Lover”, and the sheer beauty and scope of “Peaceful The World Lays Me Down”. Since Goldfrapp decided to go folksy, and Feist gave us a breathtaking world of folk – these four lads, with vocalist Charlie Fink’s timbre-quality of voice, like a voice of your everyman, down-to-earth and occasionally tremulous, becomes a welcome addition to this genre, and they’re doing bloody well on it.
VERDICT:
Contemporary folk is a genre to get absorbed with, upcomer Noah and the Whale proves rightly so. Emotionally rich, melodiously satisfying, this album is a wonderful experience to listen to. They’re a bunch of blokes who know their joys from their heartaches, and crafts songs in folk-style.
RATING: A-
