Film & TV

Yousry Nasrallah's attempt to yoke a stolid, state-of-Egypt drama to the Arab spring is a long, hard trudge

Veteran director Yousry Nasrallah makes a melodrama out of a crisis in After the Battle, a film hewn from the headlines of the Egyptian revolution that crash-lands in the Cannes competition on the basis of its urgent topicality, a heart-on-sleeve narrative, and not a whole lot else. Try as I might, I can't see it troubling the judges.

Bassem Samra plays Mahmoud, an impoverished horseman cajoled into charging the Tahrir Square protesters by Hosni Mubarak's goons on the understanding that a stable regime will restore the tourist trade that provides for his family. Now Mahmoud's life is in tatters. Mubarak has gone and the military are in power. He is out of work, a hometown pariah, and his son is being bullied at school. "I can't even feed my horse because I am a horseman," he laments. And so begins his slow, stuttering political education.

Nasrallah's decision to shoot in and around the cauldron of present-day Cairo proves to be both a blessing and a curse, in that it lends the tale a cinéma vérité immediacy while hobbling it in terms of nuance. After the Battle is too close to its red-hot material and too crude in its handling, attempting to yoke a stolid, state-of-Egypt drama to the skittish movements of the Arab spring.

It's a film that touches intriguingly on issues relating to class, bourgeois hypocrisy, and the position of women in Egyptian society, but none of these themes are ever fully developed. Most crucially, its inhabitants are rarely allowed to become more than mouthpieces, or socio-economic stereotypes (Lumpen Proletarian, Middle-class Do-Gooder, Leering Capitalist).

The last shot is dynamite: a poetic crawl up the edge of a pyramid, rising in agonising, mesmerising degrees with seemingly no end in sight. The rest, however, is but a long, hard trudge.

Rating: 2/5

mehr...

Actor has been offered lead role in musical adaptation set to open in Leicester this autumn, according to reports

A musical adaptation of Finding Neverland will receive its world premiere at the Leicester Curve this autumn, with Gwyneth Paltrow rumoured to be leading the cast.

Rob Ashford, who recently won his fifth Olivier award for last year's Donmar Warehouse revival of Anna Christie, will direct the production, which is adapted from the Oscar-winning film that starred Johnny Depp as the author and playwright JM Barrie.

Finding Neverland imagines the story behind Barrie's novel Peter Pan, as the author rediscovers his creative spark after meeting Sylvia Llewelyn Davies – played by Kate Winslet in the film – and her four sons.

Allan Knee, whose play The Man Who Was Peter Pan inspired the film in the first instance, will write the book with music and lyrics by Scott Frankel and Michael Korie. The production, which will run at the Curve between 22 September and 18 October, is being produced by Harvey Weinstein.

Paltrow has been linked to the production, alongside Julian Ovenden, who played Barrie in workshops for the production, which is reportedly aiming for a West End run after its stint in Leicester. The actor, who won an Oscar for her performance in Shakespeare in Love, last appeared on stage in the UK 10 years ago in the Donmar Warehouse's production of Proof.

mehr...

Moonrise Kingdom opened the 2012 Cannes film festival last night: the film's director, Wes Anderson, took snaps, Bill Murray looked puzzled and singer Lana Del Rey worked the red carpet

mehr...

Photograph of Taylor and Richard Burton taken at Rothschilds' chateau in 1971 expected to sell for £12,000

The photographer was distinctly unimpressed with his subjects, describing Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton as "vulgar and common".

But 40 years on, a Cecil Beaton portrait of Taylor and Burton at a black-tie ball is expected to sell for up to £12,000 at auction.

The Hollywood couple were photographed by Beaton at a party thrown at the Rothschilds' home, Chateau de Ferrières, near Paris in December 1971.

Shortly afterwards Beaton wrote in his diary: "I have always loathed the Burtons for their vulgarity, commonness and crass bad taste, she combining the worst of US and English taste, he as butch and coarse as only a Welshman can be."

He said Taylor had craved compliments during the brief shoot. "She got none. I felt I must be professional and continued, but not without loathing at this monster … Round her neck was a velvet ribbon with the biggest diamond in the world pinned on it.

"On her fat, coarse hands more of the biggest diamonds and emeralds, her head a ridiculous mass of diamond necklaces."

Ungallantly, Beaton described Taylor's hair as "sausage curls", adding: "Alexandre, the hairdresser, had done his worst. And this was the world's biggest draw! In comparison everyone else looked ladylike."

Beaton gave the photograph to Brian Hammond, who owned Gerry's Club in Soho, central London, where it hung until he died earlier this year. His family is now selling the image.

Sarah Wheeler, a specialist in the photographs section of Bloomsbury Auctions in London, said: "The fact that Cecil Beaton produced such a beautiful portrait despite his personal dislike shows what a consummate professional he was."

The auction takes place on Tuesday 22 May.

mehr...

British juror responds to complaints about all-male nominee list by saying gender shouldn't be an issue

British director and Cannes jury member Andrea Arnold has dismissed the sexism row surrounding the festival after a group of French feminists and film-makers wrote to organisers complaining that all 22 films in competition for this year's Palme d'Or were made by men.

Speaking at a press conference on Wednesday ahead of the screening for the event's opening film, Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingsom, Arnold said gender ought not to be an issue when deciding which projects should make the cut for the prestigious competition.

"I would absolutely hate it if my film was selected because I was a woman," said the Kent-born director, a Cannes favourite best known for her films Fish Tank and Wuthering Heights. "I would only want my film to be selected for the right reasons and not out of charity because I'm female.

"I would say it's true the world over in the world of film. There's just not that many film directors. I guess Cannes is a small pocket that represents how it is out in the world."

Arnold, one of nine members of a jury led by Italian director Nanni Moretti that will decide the winner of this year's top prize, added: "That's a great disappointment, because obviously women are half of the population and have voices and things to say about life and the world that probably would be good for us all to hear." German actor Diane Kruger is among four women on the jury.

The row over sexism erupted after the letter from a group of feminists, backed by a French actor and two female film directors, appeared in Le Monde. "Don't allow young women to think that they might one day have the gall to direct films and to go up the steps of the Palais except on the arms of a prince charming," read the sarcastic diatribe, in a reference to the red carpet at Cannes' main auditorium.

Festival general delegate Thierry Frémaux agreed that the lack of female directors was a general issue, rather than one specific to the festival. However, he dismissed out of hand the idea of introducing a quota system.

Last year, four films by female directors were in competition for the festival's top prize, including Lynne Ramsay's critically acclaimed We Need to Talk About Kevin. Only one woman has ever won the Palme d'Or, Jane Campion for 1993's The Piano.

mehr...

Arab-Americans describe The Dictator as 'modern-day minstrel show' that may increase prejudice towards their community

His clumsy camel-riding antics on the Croisette may have made Sacha Baron Cohen the toast of Cannes yesterday, but not everyone is happy with the British comic's portrayal of a fictional Middle Eastern autocrat in his new film The Dictator. The 40-year-old actor has come under fire from an Arab-American group which says his portrayal reinforces negative stereotypes about their community at a time when prejudice towards US citizens of Middle Eastern origin has never been more prevalent.

Nadia Tonova, director of the National Network for Arab American Communities, told Eonline she was dismayed by Baron Cohen's depiction of Admiral General Aladeen of the fictional Republic of Wadiyah, a supposed north African country with an Arab population that is seen as a cipher for Saddam Hussein's Libya.

"I have not seen the film, but based on the trailer and interviews that I have seen him do in character, it really seems to be that it's perpetuating a negative stereotype against Arabs and therefore Arab-Americans," said Tonova. "And I feel it's harmful to the discourse, especially these days when we are seeing the number of profiling incidents here in the US against Arab-Americans."

Meanwhile, US Arab comic Dean Obeidallah compared Baron Cohen's portrayal to blackface portrayals of African Americans by white actors, labelling The Dictator "a modern-day minstrel show". Writing on CNN.com, he wrote: "What would the reaction be if a white actor in blackface mocked African-American culture? Or if an actor of Arab heritage pitched a movie about the leader of a fictitious Jewish state in which he would portray the Jewish leader and showcase the worst stereotypes of Jews? Is there any chance that film would get the green light from a Hollywood studio?"

Baron Cohen's film is described as "the heroic tale of a dictator who risked his life to ensure that democracy would never come to the country he so lovingly oppressed". It sees Admiral General Aladeen travelling to the US to address the United Nations, where he is betrayed and debearded by his nefarious (for which read, rather decent) uncle Tamir, played by Ben Kingsley. The film has received reasonably good reviews so far, with the Guardian's Peter Bradshaw labelling it "an explosion of weapons-grade offensiveness".

It's not the first time Baron Cohen's films have caused consternation over perceived racial stereotyping. Kazakhs complained that Borat portrayed them as bumbling, backward ignoramuses, while US Jewish groups were concerned that audiences might not understand that the character's antisemitic attitudes were to be laughed at, not celebrated.

mehr...

Jacques Audiard's moving love story, which surges out of the screen like a flood tide, deserves to be awash with awards

What could have been simply bizarre, sentimental or contrived here becomes an utterly absorbing love story; Rust and Bone is a tale of a miraculous friendship which evolves into an enthralling and moving romance, wonderfully acted by Marion Cotillard and Matthias Schoenaerts. Jacques Audiard directs, and his screenplay, co-written with Thomas Bidegain, is freely adapted from characters in the short story collection of the same title, by the American author Craig Davidson. This is early days in the festival, but Rust and Bone has to be a real contender for prizes, and, the odds will be shortening to vanishing point for Cotillard getting the best actress award.

She plays Stephanie, a young woman who trains huge orca whales at the Marineland park; in response to theatrical gestures from Stephanie, the mighty beasts loom out of the chlorinated water to perform undignified tricks for the crowd. At a club one night, she runs into Ali (Schoenaerts), a Belgian guy working as a bouncer, involved in bareknuckle fights, but with dreams of making it big in kickboxing. Feckless and shiftless about his family responsibilities, Ali is staying with his long-suffering sister Anna (Corinne Masiero) and is more than content to let her and her neighbours look after his six-year-old son Sam (Armand Verdure) from a previous relationship. Ali takes Stephanie home from the club after she gets into a drunken fight, and clearly hopes for sex, but nothing happens, Cotillard shows how Stephanie is touched by the consideration and even delicacy which Ali shows for her.

Catastrophe strikes at Marineland early on: Stephanie is horrifically injured when one of the whales turns on her. She awakens in hospital to find that both her legs have been amputated, and her response is not a thousand miles from that of Ronald Reagan in Kings Row. Stifled by the pity and nervous condescension about her condition from her family and colleagues, Stephanie finds that the only person she can talk to is Ali — who is utterly unafraid and unembarrassed, and even suggests that they sleep together, just to see if she is still capable of sex. Proud, vulnerable, sad Stephanie begins to fall in love with Ali, but discovers that he still wants one-night stands elsewhere, and that it was after all precisely this casual, no-strings appetite for sex which gave birth to the miracle of their relationship – if a relationship is what it is.

The metaphor of the whale might have dragged the movie down, but doesn't: it could have been seen as the force of nature and destiny which makes short work of humans and their puny plans for the future. Ali could have been seen as the second mighty beast which Stephanie fails to tame. And in fact both these ideas are present somewhere in the film's fabric. But it is remarkable how matter-of-factly Stephanie's job and her terrible fate is presented to us by Audiard; it is not freighted with significance, nor with ostentatiously affectless, post-modern irony. As for Ali, what is impressive about the movie and his performance is the fact that his evolving relationship with his sister and his son is so convincing and real, and at least as important as this love affair with Stephanie.

I have rather uneasy memories of Bryan Forbes's interesting but excruciatingly well-intentioned movie The Raging Moon, from 1971, about two wheelchair users who fall in love. Rust and Bone is a very different proposition, and its candour and force are matched by the commitment and intelligence of its two leading players. These factors, linked with the glowing sunlit images captured by cinematographer Stéphane Fontaine and emotion-grabbing music from Alexandre Desplat make for a powerful spectacle. It is a passionate and moving love story which surges out of the screen like a flood tide.

Rating: 4/5

mehr...

Photographs from the Guardian Eyewitness series

mehr...

Singer's first new material since Let England Shake will appear on soundtrack for What Is This Film Called Love?

PJ Harvey will premiere two new songs on the soundtrack for a forthcoming documentary. What Is This Film Called Love? will incorporate Harvey's first original material since 2011's Let England Shake.

Described as a "poetic documentary about the nature of happiness", What Is This Film Called Love? is the debut feature by critic Mark Cousins. Shooting took place in the UK, US, Mexico, Canada and Germany, without any script, crew or schedule, according to a press release. "It is made more like a piece of music … It's about a guy, film-maker Mark Cousins, in a city alone, getting drunk, walking, dreaming."

Harvey's two new songs, Horses and Bobby Don't Steal, will appear alongside work by composers Simon Fisher Turner and Espen J Jorgensen. "Her music gives the film storm clouds, power," Cousins wrote on Twitter.

Although an official release date has not been announced, an unfinished version of What Is This Film Called Love? will be shown at this month's ATP I'll Be Your Mirror festival in London. Louis Theroux will curate the screenings on 27 May and will presumably moderate the accompanying Q&A with Cousins.

Let England Shake, Harvey's eighth studio album, won the 2011 Mercury prize.

mehr...

A new initiative uses taste to add another dimension to cinema – but is scrabbling around for snacks just a distraction?

If your idea of edgy cinema snacking is mixing sweet and salty popcorn in the same carton, look away now. If you're an arthouse purist who thinks the auditorium is no place for a competing soundtrack of rustly packaging and wet mastication, definitely look away now. For hot on the heels of 4D, scratch & sniff and dress-up cinema comes the latest immersive cinematic experience, and this time it's comestible.

Last Sunday, the Electric Cinema in London's Notting Hill screened Guillermo del Toro's Pan's Labyrinth for a sold-out edible cinema night. The concept is simple. Harness the power of taste, smell and texture to create a more evocative cinema experience. In your seat, you find a tray of numbered cups and parcels. During the screening, in the style of a dolly bird parading the scores at a boxing match, an usherette holds up corresponding numbers indicating what to open when. It's good fun and went down a storm with the (estimated at least 50% hipster) audience.

But does edible cinema really enhance the film viewing experience? Or is it just another silly gimmick that distracts from the picture? It is not the first attempt to use food in cinemas to activate the senses. In his Mission Impossible TV series last year Heston Blumenthal tried to "reinvent cinema food" by matching a menu to a screening of the film Perfume. The audience were treated to such delights as fermented fish paste (for the fish market scene) and an edible sperm shake, complete with pump action dispenser, (for the orgy scene). They were transported all right. But they were also somewhat repulsed. The prudes.

Edible cinema marks an altogether more palatable attempt to use taste, smell and texture to add another dimension to film. As a visual feast, laden with creepy sound effects, Pan's Labyrinth an excellent choice of film for the multisensory treatment. Andrew Stellitano, the food designer behind the menu, says: "It's a film I've always admired and watched many times. It was really interesting to break it down into key moments to enhance with food and aroma. I was interested in finding places where I could subtly direct the audience to mimic actions of the characters. Flavour is definitely evocative. It's exciting to think that by pairing film and food we can potentially bring the film closer."

In the opening scene young, innocent Ofélia and her sad, pregnant mother are transported through the forest to their new home. The first of the screening's eight tastes, burnt woody aromas of pine-scented popcorn, transports you there too. When Ofélia's mother is prescribed a sedative we are prompted to reach for a pipette of medicinal-tasting gin-cocktail in unison. This is where edible cinema worked best, when the audience experience tastes, smells and textures evocative of those the characters are experiencing and as a result you are swept along in the moment.

Other morsels worked to highlight certain parts of the film. The words "in a united Spain there is not a single home without fire or bread", passed me when I first saw the film; but now, thanks to innocent-looking sweet shortbread biscuits embedded with firecrackers of hot chili, they are seared on my mind forever.

The food worked less well when the screen/snack link is tenuous. A rock of sugary, Kendal mint cake-style "chalk" just made my teeth hurt. And the food proved distracting during high-tension scenes. Ofélia's encounter with the nightmarish Pale Man (who for some ghoulish reason keeps his eyeballs in his hands) should be edge-of-the-seat horrifying. The effect just isn't the same when half your brain is looking for the signal to eat a carbonated elderflower and malic acid Muscat grape. However delicious that grape may be.

Edible cinema's creators are quick to point out this is an experiment and not for everyone. Still, it's sure to have some people rolling their eyes. After all, can't we just sit and enjoy a film any more? Must we always be searching for the next novelty like spoilt children with attention disorders? And doesn't scrabbling around for snacks distract from the film itself? Polly Betton, the experience organiser who collaborated with Electric Cinema to create the event, says: "I was most concerned with making it interesting. I don't think you want to please everyone with this type of thing. There are plenty of opportunities watch films without any distractions. Having said that, the next event will see the eating experience more carefully embedded into the film, with more ambient aromas and few extra tricks."

One thing you can't argue with is that edible cinema is experimental and creative. And cinemas must experiment if they are to find experiences to offer that can't be easily recreated at home or pirated. (And what was the leap into 3D if not that?) Is edible cinema an exciting experiment? Or a pointless novelty? Personally I'm in the exciting experiment camp (oooh, just imagine feature films designed with their own menus). I will definitely try this interesting experience again. But then I'm like a cat. Once I've been fed somewhere, I'm forever coming back.

What do you think? And what films would you like to see a matching menu for?

mehr...