Casino Royale

A whole new era for the Bond franchise? There can be little doubt that Daniel Craig’s Bond comes closest to fulfilling the wishes of those who have always clamoured for a Bond more true to Fleming’s literary character. Craig is entirely convincing as a hard-as-nails operator, quite capable, willing and apparently licensed, to kill at a moment’s notice. The movie is stripped down – gone are most of the gadgets and catchphrases, except for one which is very amusingly parodied. The fast cars and the gorgeous girls are thankfully still there. Although at one point Bond does drive a Ford, which must surely be a first and may be taking realism a bit too far.

I enjoyed the movie and I think this is a necessary and exciting new direction for Bond. Necessary because the last Brosnan instalments had taken the gadgetry and stunts too far into the realm of fantasy. The invisible car and those ludicrous scenes where he “surfs” on a chip of an ice-berg spring to mind. Mind you, I can’t help wondering whether I might miss some of the polish and style of the old Bond.

Tsotsi

Tsotsi took out last year’s best foreign film Oscar and it was well deserved. Gavin Hood has created a profound tale of redemption out of the dusty shanties of Soweto. Tsotsi, very ably played by Presley Chweneyagae is a little thug (literally the meaning of his name) who sets out, with his small band, to steal something each day. He has no compunction about killing in cold blood to achieve his ends. He displays such disregard for human life that it turns the stomach of at least one of his band of thieves who confronts him and ends up taking a brutal beating for his trouble. Tsotsi’s path to redemption begins when he inadvertently kidnaps a baby in the back of a car he steals. He keeps the child, comes to care for it and it becomes the catalyst for changing him, if not into a good man, at least into a less bad one.

Another well played performance is delivered by Terry Pheto as the young mother whom Tsotsi forces to feed and help care for the baby. I was surprised to learn that the Athol Fugard book on which this movie is based is over thirty years old. Of course, the story has been updated to fit the new South Africa, but still, it’s a bit depressing that things have changed so little. I found some of the outdoor scenes very evocative of the places where I grew up. I could almost smell the wood smoke on the air as Tsotsi sits on a rise in the early morning looking out over the Joburg skyline.

Don't Come Knocking

Just as I’ll never understand why Prefab Sprout failed to fill stadiums, why the 1970s Mercedes 450sl is not the most desirable collectors’ car on the planet and why anyone would drink any other red wine in preference to Chateauneuf-du-Pape, I’ll never understand why Wim Wenders does not routinely walk off with the best director Oscar having scored another blockbuster at the box office. I will never understand, but I have come to accept that it is a question of personal taste.

For me, Don’t Come Knocking is pretty much perfection. Only ‘pretty much’ as it is not quite as good as Paris, Texas, which for me is the benchmark for movie perfection.

There is nothing but good stuff in this movie. Each performance is likable in its own right. Sam Shepard is endearingly confused and ultimately childlike as the burnt out Western movie star. Jesicca Lange brings just the right combination of fire and vulnerability to her role as the small town waitress who has raised her son as a single parent. Tim Roth is the “Agent Cooper” style of character that sometimes pops up in Wenders’ movies. Think of the distinctly odd detective played by Mel Gibson in Million Dollar Hotel. Roth’s character is not as strange, but is perhaps even more extreme. He is cool and detached to the point of insanity and enourmous fun to watch.

Of course, the images are the real stars of this show as with any Wim Wenders movie. Franz Lustig, the director of photography, who also worked with Wenders on Land of Plenty, has outdone himself. There are many scenes worthy of framing and mounting on the wall, but the one that stands out is of Howard Spence sitting in his hotel room above the deserted streets of Butte. It reminds one of an Edward Hopper painting, a frequent reference for Wenders.

Wenders and Lustig have made Butte, Montana, where the second half of the movie is set seem a romantic and picturesque destination. Having been there recently I can vouch that this is no mean feat. But now I am keen to go back to walk the same lonely streets trod by Howard Spence and perhaps stop in for a Miller at the M&M.

For me, every minute of this movie is enjoyable. I liked the music and even the final scene that ends on a road sign that reads: Divide 1, Wisdom 52. Not everyone will get it, but there is a rich seam of enjoyment here for those who do.