Review #1,256: '9 Songs' (2004)

Michael Winterbottom is one of the most important and challenging filmmakers around. Over the past couple of decades, he has directed a prolific stream of interesting features across a variety of genres, refusing to settle on a particular style and seemingly always working on a minuscule budget. But no filmmaker is immune to producing a stinker, and after a successful 2002 which saw the release of the excellent double-header of 24 Hour Party People and In This World, Winterbottom hit a grey patch with Code 46 and 9 Songs. He would push the boundaries of what could be tolerated in terms of cinematic violence in 2010 with the divisive The Killer Inside Me, but 6 years earlier he would test the BBFC's waters with 9 Songs, a film that may still be the most sexually explicit film ever to be released in British theatres.

It tells the story of two lovers: Matt (Kieran O'Brien), a British scientist, and Lisa (Margo Stilley), an American exchange student. As the film opens, the couple have broken up and Matt is heading to Antarctica to conduct research and reflect on their doomed relationship. He remembers their time together through the sex they had, and they had a lot of it. 9 Songs quickly falls into a pattern: Sex scene, concert scene, and then a trip back to desolate mountains of Antarctica. They met at Brixton Academy and share a love of live music, so between the sex we get to experience the various gigs they go to - the 9 songs of the title - shot guerrilla-style from afar over the heads of the audience, which is pretty much how most of us experience a concert. The sex is passionate, spontaneous and exciting, but love is much harder. As it becomes clear to both of them that they won't be together forever, they employ blindfolds and handcuffs to spice things up, but nothing can mask the distance opening between them.

Winterbottom doesn't shy away from explicitness. We get to see full penetration, oral sex and even a money shot - pretty much everything you would expect from a cheeky browse on Pornhub. But what separates 9 Songs from pornography is the complete lack of sensationalism. There is absolutely nothing arousing about the sex, despite the attractiveness of the two leads, and this is likely what convinced the BBFC to pass it uncut (it's 'art'). The problem with 9 Songs is that the idea is infinitely more interesting than the execution. This is an incredibly dull and repetitive film, made all the more of a chore to sit through by the two thinly-realised and rather annoying characters at the forefront. Winterbottom seems to be trying to say something profound by occasionally switching the action to the South Pole, but it comes across as allegory on the level of a student-film. The concert footage is filmed with the same grungy energy as 24 Hour Party People - one of my favourite Winterbottom films - so there's some relief to be found in performances by the likes of Primal Scream, Franz Ferdinand and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, if you're into that sort of thing.


Directed by: Michael Winterbottom
Starring: Kieran O'Brien, Margo Stilley
Country: UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,127: 'The Look of Love' (2013)

After collaborating on 24 Hour Party People (2002) and A Cock and Bull Story (2005), two equally unconventional and uncompromising approaches to the biopic and novel adaptation respectively, prolific writer/director Michael Winterbottom and star Steve Coogan coupled up once again to tell the story of Paul Raymond, the property and smut tycoon once honoured with the title of richest man in the UK. While hit-and-miss in the comedy department and narratively all over the place, the double-act's first two collaborations were certainly all the more interesting for it, tossing formulas out of the window as they tried to grasp the nature and energy of their subjects, 'Madchester' music producer Tony Wilson and Laurence Sterne's famously unfilmable novel The Life and Opinions of Tristam Shandy, Gentleman.

Perhaps the most disappoint thing about The Look of Love is just how formulaic it is, despite trying to convince us otherwise by peppering the narrative with clearly ad-libbed vignettes involving a small score of British comedians. Beginning in the 1950's, and in black-and-white, when Raymond was working as a sea-side impresario, the picture then does a good job capturing the glitz and glamour of the 1960's, as Raymond's interests evolve from owning every property he can lay his hands on to offering titillating entertainment the stuffy yet curious masses. He puts on an awful theatrical production that claims to be a romp with added boobies, which is panned critically but does little but stir up more interest. After the energetic, entertaining rise, the film plummets into a non-stop barrage of cocaine, orgies and excess for its second act.

Raymond's wife Jean (Anna Friel) seems happy with her comfortable life of luxury and even lets her husband have sex with other women, but she is soon abandoned after the beautiful starlet of his new show, Fiona (Tamsin Egerton), catches his eye. By the 1970s, his 'tasteful' shows have given way to pornographic (but hugely popular) magazine Men Only, with Fiona as one of its most popular attractions, and his hedonistic lifestyle spirals further and further out of control. While his riches grow, he increasingly isolates the people around him. Except that is, for his daughter Debbie (the lovely Imogen Poots), an entitled yet troubled girl who shares her father's fondness for excess, and who seems to be the only person Raymond actually cares about.

Just what attracted Winterbottom and Coogan to Paul Raymond is a mystery. Making a movie about such an unappealing arsehole can certainly be interesting done the right way, but The Love of Love doesn't seem keen on saying anything profound about the man, the business he was in, or the society he operated in. Coogan hardly stretches himself either, playing Raymond as Alan Partridge playing Raymond, randomly throwing in a Marlon Brando impression and pretentiously quoting artists more intelligent than him. After a lively first half, events quickly descend into scene after scene of naked flesh and terrible wigs; all style and very little substance at all. It pains me to say it, as Winterbottom is one of the best British directors around who never seems content with playing in one genre, and even his lesser works always have talking points. But The Look of Love is empty and long, albeit bolstered by an impressive Poots and a wonderfully smarmy Chris Addison in a smaller role.


Directed by: Michael Winterbottom
Starring: Steve Coogan, Anna Friel, Imogen Poots, Tamsin Egerton, Chris Addison, James Lance
Country: UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #652: 'The Killer Inside Me' (2010)

The Killer Inside Me, a brutally violent neo-noir from British director Michael Winterbottom, raised hell at Sundance, sending audiences into frenzies of disbelief and light-headedness. Of course, as usual with premature festival outrage, the film is really not as appalling as the uproar would have led you to believe. There is one truly sickening scene - as gut-wrenching as any burst of violence I've seen on screen - but, the real tragedy is that this insistence on portraying it so graphically actually takes the focus away from what is a very stylish, if tonally uneven, pulp thriller. Although Winterbottom has juggled genres and styles with relative ease in his previous work, mainly to positive results, perhaps his inexperience with tackling a project so deeply rooted in Americana leads to the film's downfall.

Small-town deputy sheriff Lou Ford (Casey Affleck) is sent to warn off prostitute Joyce (Jessica Alba), who is having a dangerous affair with the son of construction tycoon Chester Conway (Ned Beatty). After realising they have the same violent sexual tastes, they begin a love affair and devise a plan to extort $10,000 from Conway, as Lou believes Conway to be responsible for the death of his brother. Unbeknownst to Joyce, Lou, despite his pleasant demeanour, is a violent sociopath, and after Lou beats Joyce to death with his bare hands and runs with the money, county attorney Howard Hendricks (Simon Baker) is called in to investigate. So Lou is forced to cover his tracks while he dotes on his fiancee Amy (Kate Hudson).

Pulp writer Jim Thompson was possibly the grimmest writer of his ilk, and The Killer Inside Me is widely thought of as his best work. I have not read the novel, so I am unaware as to how Lou Ford is written, but here he is a blank but undeniably fascinating character. He is a character that always seems in control, even when he seems surprised at just what he is capable of. Yet for someone seemingly so clinical at killing, he's not very good at it. His extortion plan is full of holes that could lead back to him, and it doesn't take long for Hendricks to figure him out. Often a glance or a word will make you wonder if he even understands himself or anything he is doing. Casey Affleck is a fine actor, and his Lou Ford is intimidating. Even though he's slightly built and his voice is a high-pitched drawl, he is a scary character to spend 90 minutes with, and he even surpasses his performance in The Assassination of Jessie James By the Coward Robert Ford (2007), of which I felt he was robbed of an Oscar.

Winterbottom wisely steers away from any psychological analysing of Ford, only hinting at childhood abuse (but not the way you would think), and glimpses of his intellect. Instead it makes you ponder this hideous character, and stay with him (but not necessarily root for) throughout the duration of the film. But it's Winterbottom's approach that is the problem here, blending a mixture of styles that causes the film to seem contrasting and haphazard. There are moments of pure noir - headlights approaching in the dust, characters sat in empty diners, cynical narration - and these scenes are at ease with the sleaze of the film's focus, but often it will kick in with some banjos at inappropriate moments that caused me to wonder whether I should be taking the film seriously. When it does take itself seriously, it's often inspired, but the final scene is so badly handled that I did wonder if a different director with more experience in the field would have made a much better film.


Directed by: Michael Winterbottom
Starring: Casey Affleck, Kate Hudson, Jessica Alba, Ned Beatty, Elias Koteas, Tom Bower, Simon Baker, Bill Pullman
Country: USA/Sweden/UK/Canada

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie