A Cold Eye on the Revenant

I went to see The Revenant at the IFI yesterday and found it disappointing. It is an intense and visceral experience in places and there's no denying the spectacular beauty of the landscape - mostly Alberta, and Montana with the south of Argentina thrown in for its snow. But the story that drives the action is too thin and basic for my tastes. The bulk of the film involves Leonardo Di Caprio, with appalling injuries, dragging himself through a snowy landscape. Apart from not believing a word of it, the whole thing goes on too long. In addition to his initial bloody encounter with a bear (amazing sequence that), his journey is punctuated with regular eviscerations. Amimal lovers will be discomfited. We get some horse butchering, some buffalo butchering and lots of people butchering. I'm really way too sensitive to be exposed to the steaming innards of large beasts not once but twice. I also had real trouble following the dialogue. As Di Caprio mostly grunts because of his terrible injuries I shouldn't blame him too much, but Tom Hardy sporting some peculiar (vaguely Canadian?) accent had no such excuses. Speak up lad. Mind you it's hardly a movie where the dialogue matters too much. Domhnall Gleeson seems too boyish to be in charge of an outpost of hunters and desperadoes in those benighted territories at that time but at least I knew what he was saying. Visually it was stunning not just because of the scenery but for various other set pieces such as a surreal deserted church, a giant pyre of buffalo skulls and the whole accumulation of period detail in the costumes and buildings. But by the end I was bored. Also, I was never a big fan of mystical visions so they didn't help. Di Caprio will probably get an Oscar for taking on such a physically demanding role and for the finest piece of sustained grunting since Marlon Brando did the Godfather.

 

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Tennessee Williams Mad Pilgrimage of the Flesh by John Lahr

 

I do relish a good meaty literary biography and John Lahr's recent magnum opus on Tennessee Williams is one of the best. Its 600 pages must be the definitive word on that troubled genius. He had a lot going for him, brutal father, puritanical mother, fragile sister and his own guilty sexuality. It all came out in the plays which must be amongst the most autobiographical in the history off the theatre. Lahr has an excellent eye for spotting the connections between the life and the work. He's also very good on the politics of the New York theatre and on Williams' creative relationship with Elia Kazan - his most successful director. Its replete with juicy anecdotes about the actors, agents, hustlers, and chancers that surrounded him. Brando is there fighting off the lustful assaults of Anna Magnani, and we are spared no details of Williams relentless consumption of drink, drugs and young men. Williams went out of fashion long before he died and Lahr traces this extended dying fall mercilessly. He messed with his will a lot as those around him fell out of favour and this ultimately caused problems for his literary estate. It's very well illustrated with some photographs that do its subject no favours. And did you know that the biographer John Lahr is married to Connie Booth - the fair Polly from Fawlty Towers. No, I didn't either. If you like literary biography and are interested in the theatre you'll love this. If you don't care for either, you'll still enjoy the story - the rise and fall of a fascinating, talented but unlikeable man.


 

 

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