Cosmopolis

Eric Packer, 28 year old multi billionaire assets manager, decides he wants a hair cut on the other side of Manhattan. But the president is in town, his security guard protests, and there have been rumours of ‘activity’ in the area – it would be easier to go to a barber nearby. No, we must drive to the other side of town, he repeats.

Based on the 2003 novel by Don DeLillo, the narrative structure of Cosmopolis is, fittingly, very post-modern; the majority of the film is shot inside a limousine, Packer’s personal ‘bubble’, and is assembled using different episodes and encounters he has with his various acquaintances. Due to the limitations of the vehicle, the audience is confined to Packer’s mind – we see and hear only that which he chooses.

Robert Pattinson plays a fascinating character. Packer is rich, intelligent, even married, yet he seems completely detached from the real world. His conversations involve him changing the subject whenever he is asked a question (“why are they called airports?”) and very rarely does he smile. If anything, American Psycho’s Patrick Bateman comes to mind; a man so wealthy, but so caged in by society that he relishes any form of chaos, be it street protests or an assassination on live television. One encounter with a college even finishes with Packer speculating what would happen if rats were to become world currency (“how much would a pregnant rat be worth?”).

Under Cronenberg’s expertise, there is no question that Pattinson has matured since Twilight, portraying a character with a complexity never seen before, both alienated and alienating, and undoubtedly the star of the show. Other cast members include Paul Giamatti, who is gripping as the existentialistic lunatic, as is Sarah Gadon as Packer’s under-appreciated wife. Over the years Cronenberg too has changed significantly in the style and content of his films, moving away from his ‘body-horror’ era and settling into a more psychological groove. His previous film A Dangerous Method centres on the motives and thought processes of the characters, and Cosmopolis is no different – here he focuses on the meaning of what is said, rather than what is done. However, while the heart of the film is this strange, distorted realism, there are some brilliantly surreal moments to Cosmopolis that make it completely enthralling, yet oddly curious.

A Wicker Man Sing-a-long

I’d heard of these kinds of events being hosted all over the country and had even read an article on the Guardian website about it; singing along to unnerving pagan soundtrack of Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man didn’t exactly seem fun, but it did sound interesting, so I decided to go. Brought a friend too.

 The event was hosted by a couple of guys from Mayhem Horror in the cinebar of Nottingham’s Broadway cinema, so it was very informal; popcorn in bowls, songsheets were handed out, and being drunk was in no way frowned upon (it was actively encouraged). I had watched The Wicker Man a couple of times before, but until I looked at the songsheets I’d had no idea how many songs were actually in the film. There are a helluva lot, and most contain a lyric or two about lying with the landlord’s daughter in the cornfields.

 One of the opening scenes is a series of shots of Edward Woodward flying to Summerisle in his police plane to the sounds of the quietly sinister, and rather catchy, ‘Corn Rigs’. Singing started up a little tentatively at first, especially when we got to the line in the chorus, ‘I'll not forget that happy night among the rigs with Annie’, but soon, presumably due to the alcohol, we were singing away as if they were nursery rhymes at playgroup. 

 We all had a great time, especially with the naked dance scene (stop thinking what you’re thinking). There’s a window in the wall of the cinebar next to the screen where the audience can see anyone who walks past to go to the toilets and as Willow was singing her siren song on the breast-filled screen, a man appeared at the window and began to dance, taking his shirt off in the process, much to the amusement of everyone watching. 

 The film itself is completely brilliant, and is made even more so with the song lyrics in front of you. Not only do you realise what the songs are actually about (usually sex, yes), but you become part of the unsettling experience and the climax is rendered all the more shocking when you realise that you’re singing along with Christopher Lee to ‘Summer is A-Cumen’ while watching a man being burnt to death.

It’s good, clean, communal fun, so if you ever get the chance I strongly urge you to go to one of these screenings. If you don’t end up enjoying it, look on the bright side – it’s a conversation starter and you’d have a much better time than if you stayed at home warbling along to the Mamma Mia soundtrack or playing Singstar with the family (‘oh God, oh Jesus Christ’).

Prometheus

‘I think I’ve been quite successful in resurrecting a notion but going off at a new tangent’ said Sir Ridley Scott in a recent interview, and in a way, he has. Prometheus, the ‘indirect prequel’ to Scott’s low budget space-horror Alien, may be set on the same planet a century before the events of the original, yet it still manages to be its own film. 

 It begins in the Isle of Sky when two scientists, Elizabeth Shaw and Charlie Holloway, discover a cave painting dating back thousands of years that features a constellation, one that has been uncovered in various locations and from different time-zones throughout the world. It is a map to a solar system in which a single planet, LV-426, is able to sustain life. The pair believes this to be the key to discovering the origins of humankind and so accompanied by a crew of scientific experts they make their way to this planet on-board the ship Prometheus in the hope of answering life’s biggest question.

 This film needed to be made. Not least to satisfy the science fiction fans hungry for more, but to answer the many questions posed by the hugely successful Alien quadrilogy (discounting the yawn-inducing AVP spin-offs) that were never expanded upon.  The 1979 original sees Ellen Ripley and co discover a huge metallic alien birthing ground and an unidentifiable body attached to a pilot seat (‘the Space Jockey’, as fans have dubbed it) yet there was no speculation throughout the entire series as to where they came from or who they were made by. 

Prometheus answers these questions to a satisfying extent without going into too much detail, at the same time exploring issues never covered before in the series (one of the more interesting elements is the characters’ attitudes to morality and religion in the face of extra-terrestrial life) and this is why the film works so well; Scott didn’t make this simply for the Alien enthusiasts – he reveals a lot of the back story, he digs far deeper than any of the previous films so far and yet it doesn’t hinder the narrative in any way; it never becomes so complicated that it leaves its audience behind. 

  Shaking off her bad-girl attitude from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series, leading actress Noomi Rapace may seem like just a Sigourney Weaver replacement to begin with, but she has such a compelling presence on screen that this preconception is dispelled immediately. As the film progresses Rapace becomes much more than Weaver ever was; not just a standard female action hero, but an independent, strong minded and insecure character who makes the film’s climactic scenes all the more impressive. Michael Fassbender is equally brilliant as the android David, creating a character as unnervingly positive as he is synthetic. Other performances stand out, but Shaw and David are both incredibly well scripted and believable characters that give Prometheus that certain warmth which similar films seem to lack. 

  Prometheus is not just an exceptional addition to the Alien series; it’s a refreshing and intelligent contribution to the science fiction genre in its own right. Scott not only delivers the aliens, terrifying yet unique, but injects the story with its own vitality; something which may even lead the way into a new and uncharted vein of the Alien mythology.