Forrest Gump (1994)

It's often nice to put on an old favourite and enjoy a film that doesn't take too much analysing to enjoy, but with 'Forrest Gump', you get a film which bears its depth rather superficially. Telling the ludicrous story of a sweet natured simpleton who continually manages to shine out as a superior American citizen, the film is able to document post-WWII American history, as Presidents come and go (and Forrest meets them all) and different opportunities, social movements and technologies arise Forrest to exploit unawares and become a celebrity and multi-millionaire.

Joining him in childhood, we see the hapless Forrest in leg braces and struggling to get accepted into a normal state school due to his low IQ. Befriending the sweet Jenny, he grows up to become a college football star, a hero of the Vietnam War, a tabletennis champion, a shrimp fishing magnate, a cross country running celebrity and a devoted father. He seems to move through life utterly unawares of his impact, or the impact of the times upon him. Jenny, in contrast, begins life abused by by her father, and takes the alternative road into drug abuse, attempted suicide, political activity and sexual liberation, at each point staying on the cutting edge of the latest social movement. The contrast between the two is rather explicit, as Forrest achieves a naive happiness and Jenny wallows in rootless self-destruction. Repeatedly, their paths cross, and everytime they look out for each other, but ultimately Jenny is drawn back to the liberal lifestyle she can't have with Forrest. It's quite an accomplishment to deal with this dark subject matter, and the regular heartbreak of Jenny reluctantly refusing Forrest, without the film ever getting too serious.

This is largely thanks to Tom Hanks' superb performance as Forrest, imbuing him with a sense of dignity and kindness we wouldn't find in the type of simpleton portrayed by, say, Adam Sandler. It's almost believable that Forrest could achieve all that he did, simply because he didn't comprehend that maybe he couldn't - typified most in his tireless ability to "just keep running". His naive singlemindedness is the driving force of the film that takes us across America and through the ages, and helps maintain the sanity of friends like Jenny (Robin Wright, before she added Penn) and Lieutenant Dan (Gary Sinise). The more ridiculous aspects of the plot are those little extras just thrown into the film, such as the child Forrest, legs rigid in braces, teaching the young Elvis Presley his distinctive pelvic-thrusting dance, innocently revealing the Watergate scandal, or inadvertantly inventing the "Shit Happens" bumper stickers and "Have a nice day", smiley face t-shirts, that represent the entrepeneurial spirit of the 1980s, as well as the desire for a guru-type figure that people were seeking. It was also planned for Forrest to go into space, but fortunately Hanks and Sinise had just made 'Apollo 13', so this was abandoned.

The most notable aspect of the film is the use of archive footage, or at the least the faking of archive footage featuring real figures such as the Kennedy brothers, Nixon, and John Lennon, which serves to almost verify the outlandish exploits of Forrest and remind us of the major figures of those times. The film was a great, entertaining way to reintroduce the defining moments of the forty or so years the film covers, but also it draws attention to the use of television in defining these moments and Forrest's appearances confirm him as an American of stature. Perhaps the most annoying aspect of the film is that his celebrity is never maintained and when a reporter does a piece on him running across America, she seems unaware that he is a national tabletennis champion, a decorated soldier and the owner of the nation's largest shrimp company - she really ought to do some research. But this use of media to build a hero, of a kind that could only happen in America, is a touch of genius that helps create a legend of its character.

It doesn't hurt that the film is so quotable, with "Life is like a box of chocolates" and "Run, Forrest! Run!" perhaps standing out the most, and also has a cracking soundtrack (with almost all of it used during the Vietnam segment). This is big budget Hollywood with a heart and soul, and something to say. A modern classic.

La Double Vie de Véronique (The Double Life of Véronique, 1991)

Krzysztof Kieslowski had already cemented his reputation as a strong documenter of Polish life, with his early career in documentaries, a collection of original social realist films, and an excellent television series ('The Dekalog') when the Berlin Wall came down and Communism in Eastern Europe collapsed. As with many filmmakers from the area, Kieslowski suddenly found he had nothing to confront in his films, no system to subvert and no drive for his characters. Whilst Poland had been better prepared for this than most other countries, thanks to Lech Walesa's Solidarity movement, it was still a huge change, and Kieslowski may have found himself with a sudden loss of inspiration. His respons was this film, which focused on a personal story rather than a wider socio-political context, as well as addressing the relationship between East and West Europe, albeit set in the past.

Veronika and Véronique are two different women, one living in Poland, the other in Paris, but they share many things. Both look exactly alike, played by the Amelie-like Irène Jacob (who was awarded the Best Actress prize at Cannes), both have extraordinary singing voices, both are in casual relationships, and both feel an emptiness in their life. We first follow Veronika, as she finds success as a singer, and seems to be living a rather content life with her aunt before suddenly dying during her debut performance. We then join Véronique, who is overcome with a sadness and decides to give up singing. Instead, she becomes romantically involved with a puppeteer, and they begin a strange, teasing persual before finding solace with one another.

The film is extremely dreamlike, marking a departure from Kieslowski's social realism and a move towards the stylisation of his Three Colours trilogy. Scenes often take place in semi-darkness, with gentle lighting and soft focus, and the story and characters never feel particularly grounded. Both girls have a sweet innocence about them, but are sexualised by both the men in the film and behind the camera. The mood is generally rather pleasant, featuring loving relationships, but there is an unsettling eeriness due to the unstable reality. Cinematographer Slawomir Idziak continues his good work on 'A Short Film about Killing' with an intense and moody filter through which we see the world, whilst composer Zbigniew Priesner creates a stunning and affecting soundtrack that echoes Veronika's swansong throughout the film, altogether giving the air of a figure and country dying a being reborn ina romantic dream elsewhere in Europe.

Much acclaim has been afforded the film, and the second half's playful love games were evidently a huge influence on the more whimsical 'Amelie' (the actors even look the same), but personally I find it a bit impenetrable and ambiguous, and not on a parr with Kieslowski's best work. It is more interesting for the early signs of the themes from Three Colours, and viewers will notice the struggling old lady figure which both women witness and who later figures in the Trilogy. Neither Veronika or Véronique comes across as a particularly strong character, with Véronique acting more as romantic consolation to the mysterious and solitary puppeteer. It's certainly a beautiful and emotional film, with Jacob in particular undoubtably finding favour amongst male film critics, but I personally must be missing something as I can't hold the film in such high esteem as them.

Down By Law (1986)

Jim Jarmusch has always been seen as an effortlessly cool director, with cool films, cool collaborators, cool soundtracks and cool characters. 'Down by Law' is no different, featuring Tom Waits, John Lurie (possibly the coolest guy to ever make films) and Roberto Benigni as three cellmates who go on the run.

The film begins in the extremely cool New Orleans with Zack (Waits), a cool radio DJ whose lost his job and fallen afowl of his woman (Ellen Barkin). Simultaneously, Jack (Lurie) is a cool pimp, who has stirred up a rivalry with an associate. Both men are subsequently set-up by different men, caught by the law and then, in the first of many elliptical jumps, find themselves in prison together. The two men are so similar, not only in name but also in their laconic nature, arrogant innocence and disinterest, that they naturally rub up against each other. It's only when Bob (Benigni), an Italian with a notebook of English phrases is added to the mix that they have someone else to focus their frustrations on. Bob is irrefutably optimistic and lively (Benigni just about bareable with his loud, goofy behaviour) and the others can't help but get caught up in his sunny outlook. The irony is that Bob, despite being the most naive, is actually guilty of killing a man, perhaps helping to improve his status amongst the others. When Bob suggests he has a way of escaping, they go for it. Again, in a big jump, they are suddenly out and on the run - and completely lost. Here, again, Zack and Jack rub up against each other regarding leadership and the right direction to travel in. The result is probably the least expected but quite Jarmuschian, when they find an unlikely ally.

The film fits firmly with Jarmusch's early works in its slow paced, static camera style, which observes the characters from a distance rather than attempting any subjectivity. The closest ally is Jarmusch's debut feature-proper (discounting 'Permanent Vacation'), 'Stranger Than Paradise', which kickstarted the American New Wave which ended with Pulp Fiction but brought us directors such as the Coen Brothers, Steven Soderbergh, Spike Lee and Quentin Tarantino. That film was noticeable for its almost immobile camera, lack of action and easy going, disinterested characters. 'Down by Law' may have a little more action, when the trio are escaping, but they never really run that fast, and the camera is always in a suitable to position to watch them pass. The tension only arises with the soundeffect of dogs barking, getting closer, but Jarmusch never cuts away from the main action, never disturbs the chronology and never adds tension through cinematic technique in order to help the audience identify with their situation. At all times we remain as detached as the characters themselves.

The soundtrack is excellent, with opening and closing songs from Tom Waits and incidental music supplied by John Lurie, who played saxophone in the band, Lounge Lizards, an effortlessly cool jazz band. The black and white cinematography by Robby Muller is crisp and moody, with most of the action taking place at night and the editing is simplistic and efficient. The general feeling of the film is of detachment. It doesn't mean anything, there are no hidden themes or motivation for making it. There is no great experimentation of form or technical advancement. It's just a really enjoyable, cool film, and I love it.

Caravaggio (1986)

As the title immediately suggests, this is the story of the great painter Caravaggio, although told in the distinctive style of director Derek Jarman. Working, as always, on a relatively low budget, Jarman creatively tackles his lack of resources by producing an abstract and highly stylised world in which the characters live and work, often in a stylised manner. 'Caravaggio', however, perhaps provided the highest budget for Jarman and as a result we see several 'names' in the cast, giving this a bit more star appeal and and easier introduction for those not yet familiar with Jarman's work.

Caravaggio is seen in adolescence and adulthood, played by Dexter Fletcher (Elephant Man) and Nigel Terry (Excalibur), respectively. We witness his evolution from talented street urchin to the pope's favourite, and his obsession with the roguish Ranuccio (Sean Bean), who becomes the subject of many of his paintings. Around this relationship there forms an awkward love triangle, with Ranuccio's lover, Lena (Tilda Swinton), originally jealous of the two men but becoming more involved with Caravaggio herself and upsetting Ranuccio, before attracting the attention of the Pope's nephew, Scipione Borghese (Robbie Coltrane). Like many artist films we do see Caravaggio in the act of painting but the focus is always on the subject rather than his craft meaning we don't get any subjective, transcendent moments of creation which can always cheapen such films. Instead, Jarman has invented a relationship with a real figure (we have no way of knowing exactly how involved Caravaggio was with Ranuccio) in order to examine Caravaggio's interaction with his subjects, his ambiguous sexuality and his relationship with the period in which he lived.

As with many Jarman films the action takes place on minimalist sets, deliberately stylised to resemble but not recreate reality. Even though the budget would have allowed them to shoot in Italy, it was much easier to control the environment by working on soundstages and we are also provided with sets that distinctively reflect the mood of the story and the mind of the subject - just as 'Wittgenstein' featured props isolated in darkness, 'Caravaggio' takes place against a dusty stone backdrop against which the tableaux from which the artist paints achieve a hyper-reality, whilst matching the emptiness of Caravaggio's paintings. Indeed, like Jarman's contemporary, Peter Greenaway, many of the shots have a highly constructed painterly quality to them, and the film accurately produces a Caravaggio 'look'. Another example of such alliance with an artist's vision can be seen in John Maybury's portrait of Francis Bacon in 'Love is the Devil'.

The acting is fine but the majority of the mood and story is achieved through the poetic voiceover of Caravaggio on his deathbed, which also serves to stylise the film further and remove it from a typical historic biopic. Due to the use of Nigel Terry in both films, the voiceover strongly resembles 'Blue', which marked Jarman own gradual decline from AIDS before his death, creating a powerful parallel between the two artists in their last moments. Obviously, Jarman identified with and chose to focus on the homosexuality of Caravaggio, which may have been overlooked by heterosexual directors, and this also provided the more controversial elements of the film. Boldly, for a 'artist film', Jarman does not use the paintings to construct the character, but his own fictional relationships. The adolescent Caravaggio feels no responsibility to his talent and churns out paintings as payment, specifically to win back his highly prized knife which reoccurs throughout the film (a symbol of Caravaggio's more violent, uncultured side). It is only later, when he has Ranuccio and Lena as his subjects, does Caravaggio begin to feel the urge to create masterpieces that capture their characters on canvas. It is only through his motivations that we then learn about the artist, although perhaps we learn more about the director through his decisions in filming his subject.

I heard of this film a long time ago and always wanted to see it, undertanding it to be Jarman's finest achievement and also his most accesible. I find myself always impressed by the highly distinctive and creative Jarman, who achieved a definite identity within his films, and remained distinctly English with his many films examining contemporary Britain. I can't quite decide which is my favourite, or even really if I like his films, as they are so stylistically different to most other cinema and the viewer always has to adapt his expectations and way of watching to become a part of a Jarman film, but I can't escape that this is a powerful skill and worthy of much attention as usually, even the greatest directors tend to follow the rules of how films are made. Just as nowadays silent films can be difficult to watch because we're so used to a modern style, Jarman's films need a certain frame of mind to understand on their own terms. 'Caravaggio' is probably the easiest film to do this with and I would definitely recommend it as a starting point.

British cinema is much better off for figures like Jarman, Greenaway, or the rarely seen but often quoted Bill Douglas who demonstrated a great understanding of cinematic language. But with Jarman and Douglas passed away and Greenaway increasingly impenetrable, it really is time for a new wave of distinctive filmmakers with something to say and an original way of saying it. Unfortunately we don't have programmes such as the BFI's Experimental Film Fund, which helped set these directors on their way, or the burgeoning Channel 4, keen to commission unique works of film art, but now video technology has made filmmaking so much more accessible there's only the lack of ideas (and subsequent distribution) that stand in our way. 'Caravaggio' took seven years to get made and we need to see a similar level of commitment amongst modern directors. I've said it many times before...

Laberinto de pasiones (Labyrinth of Passion, 1982)

This very early, low-budget Almodovar film displays his roots in the Spanish punk and gay scenes, which provided him with much material and collaborators for a film that bears a close resemblance to Nouvelle Vague cinema, and yet is distinctively Almodovar's film, with all its quirkiness and controversy.

The film is basically a love story between a young nymphomaniac girl, Sexilia (Cecilia Roth), and a homosexual boy, Riza Niro (Imanol Arias), the prince of an Arabic nation named Tiran on a voyage of self discovery. Their story is centred around the orgiastic world of underground punk music, where Sexilia is a 'scenester' and Riza Niro has suddenly found himself a vocalist, attracting Sexilia's interest. He has also, however, previously had a sexual encounter with a gay, Tiranian terrorist Sadec (a very young Antonio Banderas), who failed to recognise the prince at the centre of his groups kidnap plot due to the simple disguise of a wig. Sexilia, in turn, has become involved with Queti (Marta Fernandez Muro), her biggest fan, who is being abused by her father who allows himself to believe she is his schizophrenic wife. The film also features Sexilia father, an excellent reproductive scientist, who has a repulsion of physical intimacy, and the ex-Empress of Tiran who is seeking treatment from him.

The various characters interact in ways that don't necessarily affect the plot but give us an insight into their sexual behaviour in a rather Freudian approach, which particularly examines relationships with parents - which is noticeably peculiar. There's an unlikely flashback scene that manages to explain everyone's tastes but due to a confusingly ambiguous identity swap between Sexilia and Queti (with both characters eventually being played by Roth), we are ultimately left thoroughly confused.

The film contains many of the hallmarks that would later define Almodovar's work: a focus on parent/child relations, the foregrounding of ambiguous sexuality, disparate narratives running against each other, interconnected relationships, and a blasé approach to unsettling subject matter. 'Labyrinth of Passion' has the added bonus of featuring a camped up cameo of the youthful Almodovar as a concert host (pictured), performing a supposedly improvised song with a friend and clearly loving the attention.

The film is good fun but ultimately lacks any substance. I'd only really recommend it for those with a particular interest in Almodovar or Queer Cinema, who may find its youthful exuberance of more value than a stuffy old cineaste like me.

Kika (1993)

This is a film quite like any other. It somehow manages to combine elements of romance, thriller, tabloid scandal, sex comedy, murder mystery, horror, drama, soap opera and even a touch of science fiction, in a story that is constantly unpredictable and original. Unfortunately, however, it lacks substance and seems rather to be ana ttempt by Pedro Almodovar to demonstrate his skill at handling various genres than telling a coherent story. Kika may be the title character but the plot constantly veers of in different directions, containing several disparate characters and never stays fixed in its themes.

There is no basic story at the heart of the film but I'll try to give quick introduction to the plot. Kika (Veronica Forque) meets Nicholas (Peter Coyote), an American writer of murder mystery stories whose wife has recently died. We next see Kika making up Nicholas dead step-son, Ramon, only for him to not be dead after all. Next, Kika and Ramon are together but Kika is having an affair with the womanising Nicholas, who has recently returned from being away. Meanwhile, Andrea (Victoria Abril), who used to be Ramon's therapist, is now a scandalous journalist with a schlock TV show, whilst Ramon and Kika's lesbian maid, Juana, has a brother, Pablo, who is mentally retarted and a famous porn star sent to prison for rape (Juana routinely has sex with her brother to prevent his urges causing more trouble).

As you can imagine, when these characters all come together, some crazy stuff is going to go down, albeit a little contrived at times. The main driving force is Andrea's persistently invasive interest in the three main characters, that reveal certain secrets best left hidden. Typically, Almodovar pushes the boundaries of good taste with an extended comedy rape sequence, lewd costumes and sex references, and helpings of incest and murder on the side. The fact that the majority of the characters perform in over-the-top, melodramatic style (particularly Forque), which betrays the dark subject matter, only helps the make the film more disturbing.

It would nice if Almodovar had exercised a little restraint and actually focused more on his stylistic choices. At one important moment of the film, a potential murder is suddenly discovered which completely changes the way we perceive certain characters, but then those suspicions are immediately confirmed, allowing for no build up of tension and no mystery. At several times, rather than following a lead to its natural conclusion, Almodovar simply gives the audience what they want and then moves on, having the adverse effect of frustrating the audience. Nevertheless, the film is constructed in Almodovar's distinctive style, providing a lively insight into the darker side of private lives, much as Kusterica explores national politics in such optimistic and exuberant style.

As with most of Almodovar's early works, they are a sign of a unique talent finding his voice, rather than great works in themselves, but always worth investigating if you're a fan.

Factotum (2005)

I actually watched this film a fews days ago, before many of the others posted, but I forgot, as the film in general made little impression on me. Based on a few works of down-and-out, alcoholic writer, Charles Bukowski, the film tells the story of down-and-out, alcoholic writer, Henry Chinaski, who struggles to hold down a job and get his short stories accepted. Into his life comes Jan, similarly alcoholic, whilst at various other times he rubs up against those represeting the estasblishment (ie. anyone with a conventional lifestyle) and finds camraderie with other down-and outs.

The main problem with the film is that there is no progression to the story, nothing every really changes or develops further. The plot is seperated into various little vignettes, maybe a result of the script containing various elements of Bukowski's work rather than taking from a single source. This means each scene can almost stand alone, whilst Chinaski's character stays stuck in his rut. Even if he leaves Jan for an extended period, he still gets back with her, and when he leaves her again it doesn't feel any different to when he was with her. He still can't get a job he wants to do and even though one of his stories has been accepted, he doesn't know anything about it.

Matt Dillon's monotonous narrative does little to help the mood. Chinaski's unwillingness to engage with the world makes it very hard for us to engage with him and ultimately he's just a bit irritating and frustrating. He gets so many chances to make some money and sort himself out that eventually we lose sympathy for his self-destructive nature. This isn't a portrait of the struggling artist on the outside of society, but rather a bum who can write when he wants. Perhaps the film should be praised for the realistic, unromantic portrayal of Bukowski/Chinaski's struggle but it's just not interesting.

A better, more original film on Bukowski is Marco Ferreri's 'Tales of Ordinary Madness' with Ben Gazarra as a much more engaging lead and an interesting, surreal take on his life. Neither film is that good really, maybe a reflection of Bukowski, who I've never actually read. My advice would be to avoid both films and read a book. If you don't like Bukowski, try Henry Miller - he's amazing.

Requiem (2006)

I really, really enjoy this film, largely because of an excellent central performance by Sandra Huller as a religious, and seriously ill young woman who finds freedom by going to university but suffers a breakdown from the stress of work and the fits that arise from her illness. She is torn between the fear that she may be possessed and the determination to achieve despite this. It is a subject that could easily be overcooked and become sensationalist horror but thanks to the intelligent and sensitive handling of director Hans-Christian Schmid, the film becomes an insightful examination of madness and religious zeal.

As we might suspect, Michaela has led a sheltered life, due to her over-protective parents, but thanks to her dad's support she is able to go to university (a year late) and begin discovering her independence. Once there she finds a best friend and a first love, but sadly her life is disrupted by terrifying fits that prevent her from praying or touching a crucifix. Whilst we today would understand the psychological explanations for this behaviour, Michaela, equally afraid of demons and further medical testing, consults her priest and is outraged when he is too scared to believe her. Resolving to work harder and be an exemplary student to oust the evil of Satan, Michaela alienates those close to her, angers her family and drives herself further into madness. The film escalates into horrific scenes of exorcism.

I would ordinarily be put off by a film of such subject matter but at all times the drama is underplayed and the risk of the subject being sensationalised is always avoided. Huller, whose background is in theatre, brilliantly portrays the confusion and determination of her character whilst also mastering the incredibly powerful and emotional scenes of madness. The complexities of the film are mostly present in the various relationships that exist: the cold and resentful interactions with her unemotive mother; the tender exchanges with her protective yet understanding father who tries to give her every opportunity possible; her gentle coming-of-age and subsequent destruction of her relationship with boyfriend Stefan; her interdependence on bestfriend Hanna that survives all adversity; her increasingly abusive treatment of her old-fashioned but liberal priest, Father Gerhard; and her resistance to the theologically sophisticated and indimidating Father Martin who leads the exorcisms.

Beyond the content the film looks great, thanks to Bogumil Godfrejow's cinematography that perfectly evokes the 1970s setting. The costumes, decor and excellent soundtrack all add to the atmosphere and the general result is a complete submersion in a society and moral and religious environment that we can believe would produce such paranoia. At the sane time, however, this is an intensely personal and intimate story about a girl struggling to become a woman.

I would definitely expect big things of Sandra Huller, and also hopefully Hans- Christian Schmid, as they both proved great talent in making a unique a deftly touching film. Everyone I know who has seen this film loved it but I don't know enough people who have seen it, so please do.

The Bourne Ultimatum (2007)

The Bourne films have reinvented the action genre as well as making significant strides in cinema in general. These ultra-realistic but astounding movies are as effortless as James Bond should be, whilst achieving absolute believability thanks to an amazing brand of 'non-cinema' and Matt Damon's relative plainness that allows him to appear to be an ordinary person.

The films follow a similar pattern, as we observe the amnesiac Jason Bourne, a deadly assassin programmed by the CIA, recovering his memory and attempting to discover the truth behind various killings he is linked to. Simultaneously, the CIA view him as a rogue killer from whom they must protect themselves, to prevent him exposing their illegal assassinations and also protect their agents.

What sets this trilogy apart from most other action films is its idenitfiable and fully developed protagonist, who isn't just a suave killing machine, but a conflicted human being trying to discover himself - and often being repulsed by what he finds. Throughout the film there are various other characters, mostly allied to the CIA, but these are Matt Damon's films, who has the opportunity that he can fill a niche in the market that no other actor is capable of doing. If the 80s gave us the brash brawn of Schwarzenegger, Stallone and Willis, Damon represents a thoughtful, intelligent and emotional man who is in conflict with his murderous capabilities. Its a very modern interpretation of the action hero, but also the modern man, who is encouraged to be more sensitive and introspective - a sort of Byronic hero - and question his motives and those of his pursuers.

Despite this intelligence and sensitivity, however, the films still boast some of the most incredible action scenes we've ever seen. The key to the astounding effect these films have is that they take place very much in the real world and not in the ludicrous situations Ian Fleming and the Bond writers have invented over the years. Thanks to digital technology and handheld cameras, the Bourne filmmakers (the first directed by Doug Liman, the latter two by Paul Greengrass, all written by Tony Gilroy who went on to direct 'Michael Clayton') have been able to go out onto the streets of Europe's major cities and place the terrifying action amongst ordinary people. Each film features an incredible car chase which outdoes the last (and pretty much any other car chase): the first in Paris, in a mini; the second in Moscow, in a taxi; and the last in New York. We also get an incredible bike chase in Tangier, followed by a pursuit through a busy market and a rooftop chase; a scurry through a protest in Berlin's Alexanderplatz; some anti-intelligence manoeuvres through London's Waterloo station (where the astonished glances of the everyday, real-life bystanders can be glimpsed); a messy assassination escape in Goa; and various other minor pursuits and fights in Zurich, Moscow, New York, Madrid, Naples, rural France and Germany, making this one of the most international stories ever told in cinema, and hence enabling a wider audience to identify with. For me personally, living in London, it was a strange feeling seeing Damon/Bourne evading the CIA and a walkway at Waterloo station that I have crossed many times myself.

This, I feel, creates a sort of 'anti-cinema'. To the ordinary audience member, it's impossible to conceive how such scenes can possibly be shot, but also, it takes the action away from escapist cinema and places it disturbingly close to home, especially in the wake of terrorist activity that keeps us on edge in many major cities. Anyone could potentially be driving their car when suddenly a highspeed pursuit involving the police can rip through the streets and cause mayhem. The difference here is that whilst Bourne conducts the behaviour that to the bystander appears to be that of the bad guy (and also in the eyes of the CIA), thanks to our close relationship with him, we're able to recognise his fight, which is absolutely him against the world. The films takes us across the world to stunning locations, but thanks to the way they are shot we never indulge in the exotic locations, but simply view them as the next stage in Bourne's understanding of his past. During the car chases and fights are we are extraordinarily close to Bourne, inside the car with him, and we share every aspect of his journey and injustices.

The fights deserve special attention for bucking the trend of the carefully choreographed and almost beautiful battles from films like 'The Matrix', 'Kill Bill', or 'Hero' and 'House of Flying Daggers'. Here, the conflicts are messy and real, people clumsily falling around whilst simultaneously performing skilled moves. Bourne often improvises with pens, magazines, books and towels to defend himself, representing his ability to adapt anything into a weapon, but the deadliest weapon s himself and even though his combatants often get the upper hand he manages to scrape through. This isn't an indestructible, smooth kung-fu master but a man with a cause worth fighting for, but who is reluctant to fight at all.

There's an excellent supporting cast spread across the three films, including Chris Cooper, Joan Allen, Brian Cox, David Strathairn, Albert Finney, Julia Stiles, Paddy Considine, and Franka Potente, as the only person he can build a life with away from his horrific past. The other agents Bourne encounters, who have all undergone the same process as him but haven't had the revelatory opportunity he was gifted, are all performed undramatically and efficiently by actors who have the struggle of making their characters more than just cartoon killers with barely a line to spare. These still include big names, noticeably Clive Owen who has gone on to achieve leading man status, but also Martin Csokas (Lord of the Rings) and Karl Urban, as well as various more anonymous actors who have backgrounds in martial arts.

The political aspects of the plot present the more incredible elements of the films. Can we really believe the CIA operated a secret experiment to recondition
and train men to forget their pasts and become deadly killing machines who ask no questions and make their assassinations resemble accidents, suicides or terrorist activities? The answer, sadly, is why not? There's every chance that some such project does exist, or did exist, particularly during the Cold War but with every possibility of existing now during an unstable time where the US is launching illegal wars in the Middle East and making enemies within politics and the media. One of those assassinated in the final film was a journalist for The Guardian newspaper, whilst others have been attempting to uncover the truth or simply perform un-American activities. The major conflict of the trilogy takes place within the CIA, with Joan Allen attempting to discover the realities of the secretive Project Treadstone and Operation Blackbriar, which Cooper, Cox, Strathairn and Finney have all been involved in. Allen makes herself a nuisance within the CIA and places her faith in Bourne, encouraging us that he is not alone and stands a chance of correcting the horrendous things that have happened to him. Of course, ultimately we discover Bourne has no-one to blame but himself, although I don't want to give the plot away.

The overview, therefore, is that these are intelligent, exciting and incredible films that never to cease to amaze us with what they have achieved. Liman may have directed the first film but the films truly belong to Greengrass, who broke into the mainstream with these and 'United 93'. His next film, 'Green Zone', is currently shooting with Matt Damon again in the lead, but there is also a Bourne 4 on the cards, which is exciting but potentially dangerous as the original story was happily wrapped up by the end of the trilogy. If Greengrass and Damon are both involved, however, I don't see how it can go wrong.

These are not films just for action fans, or even political thriller fans - I wouldn't say I was either. Both me and my girlfriend are happily 'art cinema' enthusiasts but we have massively enjoyed the Bourne films, which represent the peak of the genre. I recommend to everyone, as there is an appeal for all sorts of audiences with the international setting, the action, the romance and the classic struggle between good and evil. These films will be remembered for a long time as the highlights of early-2000s cinema and I'm very excited to see how they can be bettered.

The Bourne Supremacy (2004)

See Bourne Ultimatum for inclusive review.

The Bourne Identity (2002)

See Bourne Ultimatum for inclusive review.

Pasazerka (Passenger, 1963)

'Passenger' is remarkable for two things. First, it is a film about Auschwitz concentration camp actually filmed in Auschwitz. Second, director Andrzej Munk died in a car crash at the age of forty before filming could be completed. These two factors have produced an unusual, chilling film that is surrounded by death.

The film begins in stills, as Munk had been unable to complete these scenes. The action takes place on a ferry, boarding in England, where a woman, Liza, notices the face of another that suddenly brings her past flooding back to her. The narration informs us that the film's director died and that we can only suppose we should interprets events in the manner in which they seem to unfold.

We are then transported to Auschwitz, which fortunately Munk was able to almost completely cover before his death. These scenes leave a powerful impression on the mind, not cowering from the brutality that existed there during the war. We learn that Liza was an overseer at the camp, responisble for the death of many, but that she became entranced by one woman and subtlely helped her survive the war. The shots here are often over-exposed and grainy black and white, giving the feel that we are watching documentary footage of true events, as the inamtes run around naked, pulled around by the guards and chased by dogs. The sub-plot is that Liza's favourite, Marta, has helped to hide a baby and that Liza has inadvertently assisted her. As the risk of her and/or Marta being found out increases, Liza begins to fear for her own survival as much as the Jews under her authority. Bravely, however, she is never portrayed as regretful or embarassed about the role she plays. On the ship, Liza can't admit her full responsibility to her husband, but at the camp she enjoys her power and authority.

The sense that the action is taking place almost as it would have, in the very same places where thousands died, is powerful enough but the knowledge that Munk was also killed gives a very eerie air to the film. We should not discredit, however, the strong performances at the heart of the film, with the subtleties of power lurking beneath both characters, as Marta is intrigued by how far she can push the favouritism afforded her.

It's not a masterpiece, although perhaps it might have been if it was completed as Munk had intended. He has been recognised as one of the most important members of the Polish New Wave, which pre-empted those of France, Germany, Britain and most of Europe except for probably Italy. I've mentioned before how I strongly I admire Polish cinema and I would again urge people to see this film, not just for its novelty value but also for its uniqueness and subtle power. It is very highly regarded by many film critics and seen as a landmark of Polish cinema. I personally wouldn't go so far but I can't deny it has a special something.

Przesluchanie (Interrogation, 1982)

If I felt embarassed and outraged by the behaviour of the British police force when imprisoning Gerry Conlon, his friends and family (as seen in 'In the Name of the Father'), perhaps I was being a little presumptuous. It's well known that under the Soviet regime many, many people were falsely imprisoned and tortured by the Stasi and the Communist Party, even for the slightest infringement of Party policy, and in Poland this was perhaps most active. 'Interrogation' tells just such a story, of a Polish singer who suddenly finds herself in prison and all the secrets of her life revealed by her captors in an attempt to link her the anti-Communist activity of a man she once slept with.

At the heart of the film is a stunning and brave performance by Krystyna Janda, who submits herself to all kinds of hardships (even if she was protected by a film crew) to fully portray the harsh treatment prisoners would inevitably undergo. The simple fact that she's a woman automatically makes the film harder to take, particularly as the majority of her keepers and interrogators are men and the threat of sexual abuse constantly lurks in the background. Imprisoned alongside other women, guilty or innocent of a variety of charges, Tonia keeps spirits high by forming a strong sense of community - easy when there's more than half a dozen women in a cell with two beds. There is an openess and warmth amongst the women that reassures us of their predicament. One woman freely admits she took an axe to a man trying to throw her off her land, whilst another woman (played by director Agnieska Holland) has tragically convinced herself of her guilt of espionage, despite her complete ignorance of her involvement at the time.

During the course of the film, this community suffers the strain of interrogation, as various women crumble at different times, often incriminating each other. Tonia is not brave, as we might expect, and makes no attempt to conceal information other than admitting how many times she committed adultery. This honesty, which gets her nowhere, makes it plain to us that she'll never be able to appease her interrogators and will stay longer and longer. Though reassuringly she remains defiant and strong, with only the occasional collapse of faith.

As with 'In he Name of the Father', it's best not to reveal too much of the plot as the bulk of the film's power is its constant ability to renew our sense of injustice and helplessness with each new turn of events. Suitably the film doesn't judge Tonia at any time, much like Holocaust survivors are forgiven the horrors they perpertrated in order to survive. Poland's direct involvement with concentration camps and mass murder during the Holocaust also adds to the power of this film, as we see the country has only been liberated from one enemy by another. Innocent behaviour from the past suddenly becomes an offence under a new regime, and even Tonia's personal sex life is under scrutiny. Her personality as a sexually liberated woman seems to be the main reason she is imprisoned and becomes a focus point for her captors once beyond her 'crime'.

The most remarkable thing worth examining this film is the fact that its director, Ryszard Bugajski, managed to make the film during the very time this regime was still in power. Thanks to a lapse in political power at the beginning of the 80s as a result of the Solidarity movement, Bugajski saw the opportunity to get the film greenlit and very rapidly made it before Marshall Law was reinstated. He tells of how the rushes had to be hidden from the authorities and surreptitiously edited under the belief they would be arrested at any time. Instead it was finished, its script published by an underground magazine and the film distributed illegally on video, which could get you arrested simply for being in possesion of it. Bugajski was forced to emigrate in 1985 and the film didn't receive its official premier until 1989, when Communism was beginning to crumble. During that time it had become a cult classic and is rightly seen as a landmark Polish film (from a country and period that has an embarrassment of riches in cinema).

I definitely urge everyone to further investigate Polish cinema but also this film in particular, which is a stunning piece of work and really leaves you with a different perspective on injustices that still occur across the world today. It makes you very grateful that there were people willing to take these sorts of risks, as well as demonstrating the political power of cinema as rebellion.

David Holzman's Diary (1967), My Girlfriend's Wedding (1969)

The ingenius idea behind 'David Holzman's Diary' was to take the popular 1960s trend of cinema verité, seen in films such as D. A. Pennebaker's 'Don't Look Now', a Bob Dylan documentary, and make it into fiction. David Holzman is a cineaste who begins filming his own life, alienating his friends and lover in an attempt to 'become cinema' himself.

The film doesn't always work brilliantly but it is a fairly unique experience to watch, and Holzman's downward spiral of obsession can be quite fascinating as he destroys his real-life relationships for the sake of the camera. The strongest example of this is his relationship with his girlfriend, Penny, who abhors being filmed despite her day job as a model. This occupation seems to make Holzman determined to capture her photogenity and convince his audience of how beautiful she is, but his incessant filming of her - particularly when she's sleeping naked - ultimately leaves him alone. His obsession becomes frustrating, particularly as he insists on filming his apologetic phone calls to her, which she blatantly is aware of, further ruining any chance he has of winning her back.

Constantly referencing art-films and showing off his knowledge, Holzman becomes more and more pathetic in our eyes, unable to establish any reality. An encounter with a sexually ambiguous and flirtatious stranger seems to leave him simultaneously excited and repulsed, although we feel the only excitement comes from the fact that he is filming their meeting and not that he will attempt any real intimacy. He takes great pride in his outfit that allows him to carry all his equipment simultaneously but only seems to irritate everyone else that appears on camera.

There are some interesting shots independent of the narrative, particularly the collection of old-folk sitting in the park captured in a lengthy take by cameraman Michael Wadley - and it's important to note that Holzman, or the actor L. M. Kit Carson who portrays him, is not always the cameraman. One of the most admirable elements of the film is its ability to trick us into believing in Holzman and his visual diary. Also, very cleverly, although the recording of the diary appears to be a masochistic activity, Holzman is rewarded with an audience, no doubt all of whom will find him fascinating.

It's a complex film operating on many levels and worth investigating, as it also captures an early example of ultra-independent filmmaking of the variety that is so much more accessible with modern technology. More interesting to me, however, was the supporting short that featured on some theatrical releases of the film and the Second Run DVD that I watched. This film, 'My Girlfriend's Wedding', is of deceptive simplicity, shot in almost a single day, when director Jim McBride's English girlfriend is preparing to marry a man she's never met in order to stay in the US.

McBride was already married and unable to help his girlfriend, but he still takes the opportunity to dissect her, with the simple idea of having her empty her handbag and explain all its contents. The extremely revealing task offers up fascinating results, as we learn of the son she left behind in England from a too-young pregnancy, her trip to the States via Canada and the suitcase full of her possesion which still resides in a safety deposit box there, and her flirtatious, irresponsible attitude to life that has left her with the housekeys of various men she's met since arriving in New York.

The film doesn't just capture a single woman, but manages to articulate the modern position of women in the 1960s. This is a woman who was able to flee her responsibilities, be sexually liberated and financially irresponsible, and have political motivations and ethical ideals at a time when this was just beginning. The man she marries, an irritating, outspoken hippy, helps to place her in context - she's not as extremist as him, for example - but also exemplifies her desperation for a sense of stability in New York now she's found happiness with McBride.

The film also shows the wedding, the subsequent muted celebration, her failure to arrive on time for her new job, and finally, in fast-forward, a trip that she and McBride take. All of these extra details help to show their situation and sense of morality and responsibility. It's an excellent portrait of young people in the 1960s. I still marvel at the ingenius simplicity of the handbag scene.

Watch both of them - make sure you watch the Second Run DVD. In fact, everyone should know about Second Run, one of the greatest distributors in the country, helping to reintroduce excellent Eastern European art films and American independents to an audience that will have heard of these films but never had the opportunity to see them before. So many of the best films I've seen recently have been released by them, so keep up the good work.