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Vacuuming Completely Nude in Paradise (2001)
"Sell! Sell! Sell!"
This is one of Danny Boyle's lesser known films, probably because it was a made for TV movie with a low budget. It tells the story of Pete (Michael Begley), a wannabe DJ who gets a job as a vacuum salesman (partly to reclaim some sense of masculinity and mostly so his girlfriend can stop being a strip-o-gram). He's paired with the abrasive, foul-mouthed and morally reprehensible senior salesman Tommy Rag (Timothy Spall) who is tasked with showing him the ropes while simultaneously psyching himself up for the annual salesman award which he believes, with his sales record, he is destined to win.
"What if you don't get it?" asks Pete.
"I'll kill myself." Replies Tommy, completely deadpan.
Rag has what seems to be a genetically ingrained need to make sales - with a work-ethic that soars past commendable and goes straight to worrying. He sees potential clients in hitchhikers and gas station patrons and prides himself on selling customers a product they don't need and can't afford (we get the distinct sense that he gets far more pleasure shifting a dodgy product than a quality one).
A key insight into Rag as a character comes during a humorous scene in which he plays his self-made motivational tape for Pete. The tape is basically just him shouting the word 'sell' over and over again (with a few profanities woven in) set to a backing track of angry heavy metal music. Not how to make a sale, or why to make a sale, just that a sale must be made. Instruction rather than instructional. The actual methodology for achieving said sale is completely unspecified which perfectly suits Tommy's worldview - a world in which the sale itself matters above all else and any and all means are on the table to achieve it. The film definitely evokes the likes of Death of a Salesman and Glengarry Glen Ross while still having a uniquely British middle-lower-class voice and outlook.
The main reason I watched this film is because I'm a big Timothy Spall fan. As expected, he didn't disappoint. With Rag he gives viewers a character that'll stay with them for some time; arguably his best performance outside of his work with Mike Leigh. Rag is your standard sleazy salesman cranked up to 11 - almost to the point of sheer grotesquery. A lesser performer might hold something back in the hopes of maintaining some semblance of dignity but Spall, brilliant actor that he is, actively leans into the more ugly, even sickening, aspects of Tommy Rag. And it's true - you might never look at Timothy Spall the same way again. When we see him pitching the vacuum to the guy with the bad hand at the start of the film and he holds out his pen for him to sign the deed, leaning in with a nasty leer and a mock-genial smile and saying "I'm not leaving until ya do" we are looking at something truly disgusting on the screen.
So how does Spall manage to keep us invested in such a horrible character? Well, a big aspect is humour. Not exclusively, but in large part due to Spall, I found myself laughing out loud several times during the film. Spall's delivery is absolutely killer - I'm thinking here specifically of two of his lines, perhaps not the best lines in the film in terms of writing alone, but elevated to levels of grim hilarity by Spall's sinister and blackly comic delivery (when Tommy tells Pete what Rule 6 is and then later when he repeats the phrase 'If we must' with all the dark connotations it implies).
Michael Begley as Pete is good too. He's hapless but with just enough gumption to prove an effective comic foil to Tommy Rag. For Pete the film charts a sort of descent into madness as he questions what he is slowly morphing into while zooming around the streets of Lancashire in Tommy's car, wheeling and dealing. It dawns on him that the unexpectedly sinister business of selling vacuums is so deceitful and murky that you either need to be completely closed-off like Tommy, revelling in the repulsion, or walk away altogether. Any middle option will see you destroyed by guilt and shame.
However, it's clear both the writer and director were more enamoured by the character of Tommy Rag which seems to be where most of the attention went. As a result the character of Pete suffers a little. It also feels like a good deal less thought was put into Pete's ending than Tommy's.
The screenplay by Jim Cartwright is truly excellent - a very accomplished piece of writing that is somehow both caricatural and true to life. It rockets along at a good pace laced with funny and quotable dialogue and masterfully woven character-defining scenes. When the film gets a little slower and weightier towards the end it feels well earned. Cartwright provides us with a screenplay that achieves what it sets out to do and gives us a world and story with its own stakes and internal logic.
The nastiness of the humour and interactions might put some viewers off but audiences who stick with the film will come to get the sense that it's not nastiness for the sake of nastiness - the laugh rate may justify the humour but there's more to it than that; a sort of tentative profundity that lurks below the surface (although oftentimes a good deal below). There's a lot of pain and sadness in this film that is, for the most part, never overtly brought to the fore - Cartwright trusts his audience is intelligent enough to not require having everything spelled out.
Also of note is the great direction by Danny Boyle. You get the sense he's really in his element with this one, giving us an incredibly visual film. What springs to mind is the sequence when Tommy enters his apartment to change clothes and leads Pete into a dingy little room hidden behind suits dangling from hangers. With his fast cuts and unusual camera-angles Boyle makes the scene feel at once cinematic and claustrophobic. It's a small scene that most directors wouldn't see the potential of but in Boyle's hands it's utterly breath-taking. But despite his use of trademark quick cuts and frenetic camera-work, Boyle also knows when to let the camera linger and remain still - such as during Tommy's trancelike monologue about his dream from which the film takes its title or the revelatory car journey to Blackpool near the end.
It must be said that the actual video quality is pretty low, terrible even - the budget probably wasn't great for the film and Boyle shot it on a pretty low-tech digital camera. This will no doubt put some people off. However, I do think in some ways the low quality actually helps the film; Tommy Rag is a larger than life character - it is somewhat fitting that we never see him with any proper clarity, only occasionally catch hazy glimpses of him. The picture quality is raw and ugly - like the film's subject matter and character. In fact, trying to recall images from the film after seeing it sort of feels like looking back on some sort of weird fever dream.
There is some great casting for the smaller roles too - such as Caroline Pegg as the single mother to whom Pete makes his deceitful first sale and Alice Barry (I think) as Rag's disgruntled co-worker (with whom Spall has a particularly electric confrontation in the ladies' toilets towards the film's end).
The main issue I had was with the ending. While I found it perfectly fitting for Tommy's character, I also found it a little too grand and dramatic for a film that really shines in its smaller, less overtly ambitious scenes. That being said, there's little denying that the ending is sad and even quite moving. Like I say, it's not really a big deal but, when I try to think of the movie's lesser attributes, that's what comes to mind.
All in all it's a great piece of work, with great direction from Danny Boyle (who makes a low-budget TV movie feel dazzlingly, even dizzyingly, cinematic), a first-class screenplay by Jim Cartwright and a legendary performance from Timothy Spall. I acknowledge it won't be to everyone's taste (the film's 6.5 IMDB aggregate rating is testament to that) but if you're a fan of the paradoxical and harsh world of sales as depicted in the likes of Glengarry Glen Ross and have a tolerance for some fairly nasty humour and characters then this will be a good film for you. A must-see for fans of Danny Boyle and Timothy Spall.
The Godfather Part III (1990)
"When they come they come at what you love": A Partial Defence of The Godfather Part III
This review, while not glowing, comes somewhat to the defense of GFIII. I think it's a pretty good film that finds itself in the impossible position of living up to two legendary predecessors.
A few problems include the absence of Tom Hagen (Duvall wanted more money) and severe editing problems in the film's third act (it's impossible to know what's going on).
Another issue is Sofia Coppola as Michael's daughter, Mary. While a talented director, her acting isn't great. She's received much grief already for her performance so I won't beat a dead horse; I'll just say that, for a character as important as Mary, this miscast is a terrible blow to the overall film.
However, I think there's lots good about the film, its main strength being Michael (played with dependable excellence by Al Pacino). Michael's chilled out a little in old age. Time's passed, making for an interesting dynamic between him and Kay. The passionate anger from GFII has faded away. They understand themselves a little better making for some sweet but melancholic exchanges:
Michael: I feel I'm getting wiser now.
Kay: The sicker you get, the wiser you get, huh?
Michael: When I'm dead, I'm gonna be really smart.
It's only as Michael's life deteriorates that he sees clearer, the terrible irony being by that stage it's too late to get back what's been lost.
The films most interesting dimension is the weird triangle between Michael and his heirs (one biological, one surrogate). His daughter, Mary, and his bastard nephew, Vincent, represent two different lives. In one, Michael is a family man, sustained by the love of his children, maybe even his wife again. The other sees Michael as a mentor, ready to pass on all the tricks he's learned over his long life, beginning the cycle of his existence anew. One is the end of the course of his life, the other is just the beginning. Like King Lear, he must choose between his children and what they represent. Unlike King Lear, he doesn't make the choice rashly. He spends most of the movie unsure of which path to take and, as the film nears its end, we realise he'd likely never have chosen, he'd try to have it all and both versions of himself would suffer.
A romantic relationship blossoms between Mary and Vincent, inciting Michael's disgust. Partly because Mary is his child and Vincent's cousin. But it's also due to what they both represent. One's his child, connoting family and affection, being a good person. The other represents Michael's youth: slick and violent with boundless (albeit illegitimate) opportunities ahead. They're two opposite worlds.
But who is Michael Corleone if not the physical embodiment of those two differing philosophies brought together? He's tried all his life to be both a family man and a gangster. However, the two don't go hand in hand and the union within Michael is an unnatural one, often coming with a price. Michael's now somewhat wiser; on some level he realises trying to be a husband/father as well as a Don is what has lost him his family. He realises he should've picked one life, keeping the two worlds separate. And yet now he's seeing it again. Vincent the mafia protégé and Mary the loving daughter. Crime and family in unholy matrimony. He despises the relationship between them for the obvious reasons, but also because he sees in it his own weakness, as well as the seeds for destruction and unhappiness. Michael is a something of a hypocrite; he keeps them from forming a relationship because he knows now it's wrong to have those two lifestyles together and yet he nurses the union within himself with his indecision to pick what sort of man he is. Michael can recognise these flaws externally in others but, unfortunately, not in himself.
The ending is another big strongpoint; everything comes to a head. An assassin's gun goes off. Michael checks himself for bullet wounds but somehow, remarkably, he's still standing. His fate was about to catch up with him, the natural end to the lifestyle he chose. If he had been shot as a result of his criminal dealings which stemmed from his insatiable hunger for the family business, it would have been a fitting end, a sad one, but the one he worked towards his whole life. There'd be a sense of narrative completeness, a neat little roof to be placed on top of the story that started way back with Michael's first kills. But here stands Michael Corleone, against all odds. Still alive. His fate seemingly avoided. But the audience, alongside Michael, quickly realise his fate wasn't actually avoided, just redirected. The bullet meant for Michael, the fate meant for Michael, sailed past him and instead inflicted his daughter. The sins of the father paid for in the daughter's blood.
When Michael lets out that horrible cry at the end, it's a lamentation for a lot more than Mary. It's a release, for the first time in his life, for all the pain. It's a wail in mourning for anything else he could have been had he had the strength and had fate not been so firmly against him.
Vito died in his home in the garden he tended, with his grandson present. Michael dies alone, in a relic of the old legend of the Sicily mafia. He worked so hard to sit on a throne, a seat of power, and now the final scene is him falling from that seat and onto the dirt. And, in the end, it's a very short journey.
The Godfather series chronicles what happens when these "Men of Honour" leave their native land and go out and make their fortunes in America, the land of opportunity. It's fitting that the trilogy concludes with Michael retreating to Sicily, the place where it all started, and now, where it ends.
Carlito's Way (1993)
"You think you're just going to sail off into the sunset, @$$hole? Think again."
This quote from the film's third act could easily be the tagline for Carlito's Way, one of my favourite films and even a possible contender for my top 10 of all time. It tells the story of Carlito Brigante, a former criminal on early release, and his attempts to leave his past life, despite pretty much everyone around him dragging him back.
It's only natural to draw comparisons between this and Scarface, both are crime movies directed by Brian DePalma and starring Al Pacino and in some ways the automatic comparison might be what has hindered this films popularity. Scarface is the more iconic and quotable film (and rightly so) but for my money Carlito's Way is the better film overall; a more mature and contemplative piece. There's a scene in a diner about mid-way through the movie in which Carlito tells Gail
"This counsellor in Lewisburg, Mr. Seawald, once said to me: "Charlie, you run out of steam. You can't sprint all the way. You gotta stop sometime. You can't buck it forever. It catches up to you. It gets you. You don't get reformed, you just run out of wind.""
This felt almost like a direct acknowledgement of Scarface and how this film would differ from it; Tony Montana in Scarface is clearly a character who tried to sprint all the way and ultimately paid for it. Carlito's lived to be older than Montana, he's more world-weary and experienced. In some ways Carlito's Way benefits from the fact Scarface came before it. Montana was petulant, he lived fast and died young. Now DePalma and Pacino present us with a different story, one that takes its time and carries the weight of experience and of maturity.
There's several instances where Carlito shrugs off something that would've outraged Montano. Clearly Carlito's the more relaxed of the two, more comfortable in his own skin and less likely to cause a stir when it's unnecessary. Carlito seems tired of who he was in his youth and so he tries to do something different.
The main problem with this plan, and the main conflict of the film, is that his departure from who he used to be is far from a clean break. He takes what he tells himself is a temporary job, running a nightclub populated by criminals, many of whom knew him when he was younger or are familiar with his legend. In other words: bad influences. Carlito makes the potentially fatal mistake of trying to be both a semi-gangster and a reformed citizen simultaneously and the end result was always going to be problematic.
This very interesting dimension of DePalma's film is brought to the forefront by the character of Benny Blanco, an up-and-coming criminal who Carlito takes a strong dislike to despite the fact a friend tells him
"It doesn't make sense you should hate this guy because this guy is you twenty years ago."
He's essentially the physical manifestation of Carlito's younger self. When Carlito compromises on his no-crime promise and runs the nightclub, Benny is often lurking in the background. He represents Carlito's old life and Carlito now represents the new life he wants, it's only natural conflict should arise between the two. This external conflict between them matches the internal conflict between the two forces inside Carlito. Because he doesn't completely eradicate his younger avatar and instead keeps him around, the past (Benny) ultimately throws the future (Carlito) into severe jeopardy. When Carlito throws Benny out of the club, the two stand illuminated by red light. Blanco's whole face is covered in it; he's fully a gangster, totally at ease with what he is with no internal struggle to rectify. Carlito only has red light on one half of his face, divided exactly in the middle. He's not quite a gangster anymore but he can't quite fully leave it behind. It's this internal struggle that causes so many problems for him.
There's also themes about growing older and hopes being dashed. There's a great scene where Carlito goes to see his former girlfriend who he still has feelings for. She tells him she's a dancer, yet, when he goes to see her perform, it turns out she's a stripper. Pacino plays it brilliantly, keyword: nuance. Up until that moment he had thought Gail had achieved her lifelong dream and yet instead he sees it's simply a pale imitation (a storyline that parallels his own). He has his shirt buttoned up to the top but when he enters the club and sees what kind of place it is he unbuttons his top button, adjusting his expectations (as well as demonstrating how easily he can oscillate between the two worlds when really he should stick to one). It's a film about the perceived necessity of compromise but also the dark ramifications of it.
The dialogue, and Pacino's delivery, can feel a little cheesy occasionally but, if you let yourself enjoy the film and be invested in the characters, that won't be a problem.
Slow in parts, but never boring, when the action scenes arrive they're some of the best you'll see in film (Particularly the chase sequence). DePalma uses long shots for the chase scenes rather than the more traditional quick, excessive jump cuts and the end result proves to be very effective, giving a real sense of peril.
IMDb only allows 1,000 words so I can only briefly praise Sean Penn's fantastically seedy character and the excellent soundtrack.
Overall, it's an interesting story, exploring a dimension of criminal life that's rarely been explored (and rarer still been explored this effectively). The tragedy of this film is that Carlito just can't shake off his former life, his compromises end with him getting in his own way, which makes for a more human story, even a more relatable one. One of Pacino's best films and the best DePalma film I've seen so far. Great for fans of cinema, directing and characterization.
9/10