32nd Hall of Fame

This review contains spoilers

I have to admit that even after all these years, I'm still as mesmerized as I ever was when watching Picnic at Hanging Rock. I mean, after all, the film itself has to be more than just it's central mystery. To fascinate us, it needs to get us into the right mood, and to be worth remembering it has to be more than just a riddle without a solution - for the casual viewer though, Picnic's more serene contemplations are somewhat drowned out (at times) by it's more haunting qualities. Nature, time, the connection we have to our environment, and the odd contrast that British culture had (and still has) when viewed against the backdrop of such a harsh, unrelenting, alien landscape are explored. All of these themes are woven tightly together in both Joan Lindsey's novel, and the Peter Weir film. Looming above it all is the vanishing - three students and one teacher from Mrs. Appleyard's College for Young Ladies, of whom only one would ever be found. The events surrounding this all heighten the ethereal qualities of this occurrence.

The year is 1900, it's Saint Valentine's Day, and an annual picnic at Hanging Rock for some of the student's at Mrs. Appleyard's College is in the offing. Sara (Margaret Nelson), perpetually bullied by Mrs. Appleyard herself (Rachel Roberts) and in love with fellow student Miranda (Anne-Louise Lambert) is not allowed to go. Shepherding the young girls are Miss Greta McCraw (Vivean Gray) and Mlle. de Poitiers (Helen Morse). The hot sunny day lulls everyone into a dreamy state, and four girls decide to climb to the top of Hanging Rock - Miranda, Marion (Jane Vallis), Irma (Karen Robson) and Edith (Christine Schuler). Two nearby young men, Michael Fitzhubert (Dominic Guard) and Albert Crundall (John Jarratt) watch them as they go. All girls except Edith fall into a kind of trance, and as they slowly walk out of view, Edith screams and runs to the group picnicking below. When the whole group returns to the college, well after the 8pm deadline, Mrs. Appleyard demands to know why - and as it happens, the three students along with Mrs. McCraw have disappeared, without a trace.

Yes, there's a Mary Celeste vibe to most of the proceedings in Picnic at Hanging Rock - the easiest solution would be to say that perhaps those missing have fallen into an unseen cavity in the rock formations - there are many in the area - but there's still too much that doesn't make sense. Why did Edith return screaming, and why does she remember nearly nothing of what happened? Why did Mrs. McCraw leave the main group, unseen, and where did she go? What further mystifies everyone is the fact that a desperate Michael searches for the girls, and finds one of them - Irma, who can remember nothing of her ordeal, and can't explain how she survived as long as she did exposed to the elements, with no water at hand. In the end the flow-on effects of the bizarre mystery spread to Mrs. Appleyard's College. Parents decide not to renew enrollment, and Mrs. Appleyard, now drinking heavily, sees her finances spiral into the dust. Then there's poor Sara - who apparently commits suicide by jumping off the roof of the mansion, or else, as hinted at in the film and book, perhaps she's murdered by Appleyard, whose mental health is deteriorating.

There are solutions out there - Joan Lindsay's publisher revealed that when the author submitted the work, there was an 18th and final chapter which described what happened - but she was persuaded that the book was much better without it. After Lindsay died, this final chapter was finally published amongst a collection of essays as "The Secret of Hanging Rock" - it describes a veritable acid trip, with space, time and form all in flux, but I don't consider it a definitive ending to the story. That chapter was excised, and as such the story is as it is. You can't just add a chapter 20 years later - or at least you can, but it can't turn back time and become an everlasting part of what was. The movie, as well (in a very fitting way) has a conclusion which was left out in almost identical circumstances. This was an adaptation of part of the book - in the movie's excised last scene, when Mrs. Appleyard has reached her nadir, she travels to Hanging Rock herself, and kind of goes through what the girls did, or at least tries to. While there, she looks through the rock and sees Sara - and then we find out through narration that Appleyard's body was found at Hanging Rock, and it was presumed she fell. As it is right now, the film ends with Appleyard staring ahead - broken, and without hope of rescue.

So, we have the creepy vibe - but what is it about the film that makes it endure? I always think about those bright white dresses the girls are wearing, and the way they contrast with the natural surrounds of Hanging Rock. All white suggests some kind of virginal imagery - and the fact that this happens on Saint Valentine's Day furthers the whole aspect of "awakening love". For Australians though, it's also a very weird sight. Valentine's Day means February the 14th - and that means an Australian summer. You do not want to be wearing corsets, long dresses, stockings, undergarments belts etc. when you go exploring rocky outcrops during an Australian summer. It doesn't look like the girls belong there, at all. It's an extreme contrast - but as the three who disappear explore onwards they discard shoes and stockings so they can make direct contact with the rock itself. Instead of pretending to be in Victorian England, the girls are communing with nature for the first time - and the Australian outback is a haunting and ancient place. They don't belong - and before long, they cease to exist.

The cinematography was handled by an Australian great - Oscar winner (for Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World) Russell Boyd. Boyd had talent, and it shows throughout Picnic at Hanging Rock - the way he makes the rock itself loom over all who go near it, and the mysterious quality he lends the place through his use of natural lighting (especially during the picnic itself, which was filmed day after day at exactly the right time) and movement. Adding to the potent mixture of nature and perception is the editing - credited to lesser light Max Lemon. There are so many great fading dissolves and transitions which include flocks of birds, the rock, and the angelic faces of the girls. What would it be without the panpipe pieces by the Romanian folk musician Gheorghe Zamfir though? The film's musical accompaniment is part of Australian film folklore - and as a whole, the score is one of the greatest in film history. It's varied, and when we're not hearing the music that plays while the girls ascend (composed by Bruce Smeaton), or the panpipes, you're probably hearing Beethoven, Bach or Mozart. Everything fits every moment - creepy or luscious, to a degree of absolute perfection.

I can't fully put my feelings for Picnic at Hanging Rock into words - as I grew up, it got under my skin, and stayed there. In Australia, you'll read the novel at some stage in high school, and that's where I read the 18th chapter as well, which had just been published the same year we read it in class. As a little kid, it sounds and looks boring - all period dress, and pertaining to be about a picnic? I actually thought, as a little one, that this was a film about a pleasurable picnic - I've known the truth for a much longer time, though I never knew the film had an extended ending which was cut from it - I only saw that for the first time recently, and as good as the ending is, the part that was cut isn't bad. I agree with the decisions made though - the ending this film has is just right. As I try to explain, all I say sounds fragmentary - and maybe that's because I'm trying to convey many things at once - a sense of awe connected to a mystery, and a sense of recognition when it comes to the clash of British dress, architecture and custom that still sticks out like a sore thumb side-by-side with a country that's rough and harsh. The manicured lawns, peacocks and fancy furniture - just yards away from brown dead grass, lizards and dry dust. Picnic at Hanging Rock is also about our relationship with nature - and specifically an alien one to white people.

I'd really like to go one day - they say Hanging Rock really does have a haunting feeling about it. I've felt that feeling before. A brooding, mysterious whisper of the unknown. Miranda opens Picnic at Hanging Rock with "What we see and what we seem are but a dream, a dream within a dream" - paraphrased from an Edgar Allan Poe poem. It speaks to central mysteries about existence, thought, and our connection to our environment. If you're of European descent, then you're reminded every day that you weren't born for what Australia has in store for you - but just as with the girls in this film, it hypnotises you, and draws you in. Trust me - enough people have disappeared because of that allure. I can't then, end this without at least mentioning Aboriginal spiritual beliefs and their concept of "The Dreamtime" and Dreaming - which they've had as part of their culture for up to 65,000 years. Weir would directly tackle that with his next film, the equally haunting classic The Last Wave. It's all a part of what makes A Picnic at Hanging Rock enduringly special for Australians, and an equally beloved film for many overseas.

__________________

That's an interesting theory. In my mind, the girls have walked into some kind of rift in time - I think that because of all the mentions "time" itself gets before the occurrence of them disappearing. They ponder the age of the rock (a million years or so), and as the girls leave all the watches stop on 12 O'clock. Then finally, Miranda (I think) says "We won't be long at all" (or something - I'm paraphrasing.) I'd say, because of the rules of dramatic irony, that nearly guarantees that the three girls that never return travel through time, and will end up walking back down and looking for their friends in about a million years.

In an alternate ending to the film, Mrs. Appleyard climbs the rock herself, and ends up seeing Sara (who had just died) up there - perhaps you're right. In the novel she sees Sara, but her face is decomposing. I'm also fascinated by the way the film and novel end with a kind of 'in the air' question about the possibility that Mrs. Appleyard murdered Sara. A lot of strange things going on in this story.

One of the things I love about the film is that eeriness which permeates every scene - the more times you see it, the more things you start to notice - like that conversation between Sara and Miranda.

Hopefully I can get to another on Monday

The Name of the Rose

A solid, decent film. At two hours and ten minutes, it is a little long for my current attention span. It's also not quite the type of film that really grips me at this point, but I also wouldn't say that any of its negative qualities outweigh its competencies. I think Sherlock works better in London, but the concept from this film (and novel) is novel. Comparing this film to the average film, it does well. Comparing this film to the heavyweights that are looking to etch their names in the digital stones in the halls of MoFo glory, I think it comes up a little short. There was just nothing in this film that stood out as being special to me. Overall, a perfectly fine way to spend a throwaway evening. If I was rating it, I'd probably go somewhere in the 6.5/10 range. The moon-faced guy was pretty creepy.

There is a lot to like about The Name of the Rose - the setting, the performances (for the most part), unfortunately the story was probably the weakest part for me. I never got terribly invested in any of it. Sean Connery is a friar who, along with his sidekick Christian Slater, goes to an abbey to solve a murder. While there, more murders occur and the length of his investigation begins to make the Church uneasy. So uneasy, in fact, that the Church eventually sends an inquisitor (F. Murray Abraham) to get to the bottom of everything and we all know the conclusion a middle ages inquisitor usually come to. It's more about brow beating a confession out of the alleged heretics and having a bonfire than finding out what really happened. There's more to it than but in a nutshell.

I really liked Connery's performance and that was easily the best part of the film. The movie starts off well enough then hits a bit of a lull, then picks up again with the arrival of Abraham even if his appearance is obviously an "Ooh, look, here comes the bad guy" moment. Ultimately, the reasons for the murders didn't sit well with me. It seemed like a lot of work for something that could have been solved rather easily. It's a fine movie but not a great one.

I flat out loved the first third of this film. At the start the film felt like a subtle yet deep exploration of the effects of human isolation. Just the mere act of one man refusing to talk to his life long friend was crippling to the poor ignored soul. More so because the reason for the shunning wasn't anger but because the one man was considered dull and wasted the time that an older man felt was so precious. Those are deep themes and if the film had stayed with that I think this might have been a Cannes film winner. But when the old witch lady and finger chopping showed up, the film became more common place and lost what it had. Still I enjoyed the breathtaking scenery of Aran and Achill islands in Ireland.

Banshees of Inisherin



I assumed that I would love the movie the second time around and that's exactly what happened. First off, the scenery and cinematography is the best of this decade for me. Makes me want to jump in a plane right to the island. And yet, when we are focused in on the characters here it's like they almost dont know just how awesome of a place it is they are living. The big 4 performances are all stellar, like I said the first go around Farrell was my favorite and I think it would continue to be that way but I really saw an uptick in my interest for the other 3 too. Particularly thought Keogan killed it in his small role and of course Condor was splendid too. Usually we see a film with a romantic breakup and not a friend "breakup" but I think that this is very quite relevant as we seem to slip and slide amongst most others in our lives. The part that got me was when Gleason talked about aimless chatting and Farrell called it good normal chatting. Good normal chatting is pretty important in life I'd say and it's sad that not everyone can know how to strike up conversations these days. It's nice to be nice sometimes.

The film itself doesn't have the happiest of endings, but I'll be damned if there wasn't a lot of hidden laughs along the way either. This is up there on my favorites for this decade. Now if I could just figure out the whole reasoning beyond the finger stuff ...

The Name of the Rose (1986)

Liked it. At first I was hoping for a serious drama about a 14th century monastery with a dark mystery that occurred with in it's walls...That would've been my type of film. But as soon as the monks were introduced their makeup and facial appliances were so heavy and unnatural looking that I was in the mind set of The Princess Bride.

But once I settled into the idea that this was a mid 1980s film and so had that feel and look to it, I then liked it much better. I don't think Sean Connery was a great actor despite the fact he was the best Bond hands down. But his light style worked well with this light type mystery. Yes It's like Sherlock Homes in Monk-land and the film even pays tribute to that sleuth when Connery tells a very young Christian Slater that it's 'elementary'. So yeah that vibe then worked for me.

I LOVED the library and all those stairs which reminded me of the stairs in the Harry Potter films at Hogwarts. Slater worked well maybe because he was so young he seemed like an eager beaver...and that young lass he hooked up. As Ed said that was a very sensual love/sex scene. I say love because he did love her and that's what was sad as I was thinking as a monk he's never going to get laid again. Who in the hell would want that lifestyle? Then again if it's between being a pious monk or a starving peasant eating rotten vegetables...Well, I would just sail away across the ocean and live in Tahiti like Gauguin.

I'll probably watch that^^next

The Little Girl Who Conquered Time

Shamefully, I've only seen two other Obayashi films. That said, I am comfortable calling him one of my favorites. I just need to get my hands on his other films. He makes films that are easy for me to watch when I do get my hands on them. He doesn't seem to be bothered by conventions, which I really appreciate because of how rarely I watch films anymore, I don't really want to see anything that's run of the mill, so it either needs to be of rare quality or rare technique. Thankfully Obayashi gives both. There is almost always something visually interesting onscreen, so while there is a story about time travel or something, it's not really the thing that drives my enjoyment. Instead I enjoy the Wizard of Oz inspired shifts of color, the insane time travel montage effects, the slow motion dramatics, and the playful camera movements. It's a great film, but it's actually my least favorite of the three of I've seen. But even if this ends up being my third favorite Obayashi (I'm willing to bet it won't be), it would be a top three to be proud of. I forgot to mention the other two: Hausu and Hanagatami, both

I love this interpretation.

Thanks, I thought when I was writing that review, that you might like that interpretation. I found the film very serene and I'm glad I got a second chance to see that again. My wife liked the movie too.

I must confess to having never read Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose, but I'd imagine it sneaks in a little more theology than this adaptation does - take away this movie's fascinating setting (a 14th century Benedictine abbey in Northern Italy) and it would conform to any number of mystery films or police procedural dramas made during the 1980s. Still, it does posit something interesting by it's close, by having many of it's wise characters claim that William of Baskerville (Sean Connery) has strayed from the path of eternal truth by relying soley on facts and reality. Furthermore, it charges that his love of what's real, and proving what is no doubt factual, only serves to inflame his vanity. That, I find interesting. What would it benefit mankind if we could travel back in time and record the life of Jesus Christ on video camera? We'd be closer to finding out every fact, but I suspect the wisdom which has been left through what is probably mythical is more important to mankind's spiritual wellbeing. Our search for a definition of what's real only serves to make humanity more vainglorious, and perhaps we've strayed too far from the path of natural beauty, and our capacity for wisdom, poetry and most of all love. Still - there are some suspicious deaths here that need solving, regardless.

William and his young novice, Adso of Melk (Christian Slater) have arrived at the aforementioned abbey to partake in a theological conference, but William's Sherlock Holmes-like powers of deduction immediately give rise to concerns about a recent death. The Abbot (Michael Lonsdale) confirms that a young illustrator, Adelmo of Otranto (Lars Bodin-Jorgensen) has fallen to his death in a mysterious manner. While the mystery is seemingly solved by William in short order, more deaths follow - in much more mysterious fashion, but with the recurring feature of the victims having blackened tongues and fingers. On their way is the much feared (and less fact-oriented) Inquisition and Inquisitor Bernard Gui (F. Murray Abraham). To make sense of it all, and save past heretics Salvator (Ron Perlman), Remigio de Varagine (Helmut Qualtinger) along with a filthy (in more ways than one) peasant girl (Valentina Vargas), William and his 'Watson' must gain entrance to a secret hidden within the Abbey's ancient library. All of this is told to us via an old narrator - an aged Adso (Dwight Weist) pondering this notable happening, and getting nostalgic about the filthy peasant girl - whom he'll never forget, despite never even knowing her name.

Yes - that was an erotic interlude. Christian Slater was only 16-years-old when playing this early breakthrough role - so he's nowhere near 'sex object' territory, but Valentina Vargas, in her early 20s, really takes charge of the moment and retains the focus throughout. Jean-Jacques Annaud decided to let the actress improvise the entire scene, giving it a spontenaity which definitely feels real, and Slater knew nothing of how it would play out. It's a rare moment in the film where our focus isn't completley on the mysterious deaths and William's search for the truth - and it's one of the film's most memorable scenes. Ironically, it was Sean Connery who was often touted the be the sexiest man going around during the 1980s - not even baldness and hints of a violent mysogynistic personality could slow do anything to dampen that label. He aquits himself marvellously in The Name of the Rose, and I have to grant that it's one of his most pleasing performances. (Go back and look at 1973 Sidney Lumet-directed film The Offence for a really amazing Sean Connery performance that has been forgotten over the years.) Michael Lonsdale, William Hickey, F. Murray Abraham and Ron Perlman also give this film great service - the material seems to bring out the best in most of the actors in it.

Fulls marks go to how the film looks, with it's imposing exteriors constructed on a hilltop outside Rome (the largest constructed since those of Cleopatra in the early 60s) and interiors in Eberbach Abbey, Germany. Tonino Delli Colli, in between Felini films, mutes everything light-wise, and the film is dominated by earthy tones which reflect this dark period of the late middle ages. Filth permeates absolutely everything, and most characters are deformed and misshapen in some way. Ron Perlman's make-up effects give him a severe appearence (make-up artist Hasso von Hugo won a BAFTA for his troubles), and Feodor Chaliapin Jr. (as the ancient Jorge de Burgos) stares right through us - his cataracts giving him a ghostly visage. Inside the Abbey's library, the production and set designers have created a vision of antiquity which would make anyone interested in history want to reach out and touch already ancient manuscripts. Gabriella Pescucci's costume design rises to the occasion. Everything I'd want to get out of The Name of the Rose visually is most adequately and pleasingly presented throughout the entire film.

Although the film is clear about which person is a villain, and which is essentially good, it's not always crystal clear as to what has set the events we're seeing in motion. The first death in the abbey and the subsequent deaths don't have a clearly recognizable series of actions and reactions once we find out what has happened, and I fear most people would probably walk away from this not being completely sure they've completely understood it. It's a little convoluted is what I'm saying, and I think perhaps a little clarity has been lost when condensing the novel into 130-minutes. The meaning though, is essentially clear, and relates to the importance of knowledge and how it can be difficult to reconcile knowledge with someone's specific worldview. Overall, the film takes place amongst several orders of monks that have come to discuss their worldview in a place with a hidden, ancient library - storing generations worth of knowledge and wisdom. William prizes this, above his very sense of humanity and charity as far as Adso is concerned. Adso would choose to save a person if it meant losing an ancient text - but for William, the value of those two can't be easily compared.

The Name of the Rose is surely a film that would benefit from multiple viewings, and a little more theosophical musing over mystery solving. Nontheless, I can't deny that it's a very well made film, with a cast of venerated actors from Europe and the U.S. who mostly give performances that elevate it. It's enjoyable to watch, because it has that aura of authenticity about it when it comes to 14th Century monkhood - many customs are played out within it that are interesting, and special attention has been paid to every aspect of long-lost modes of living. It weighs up the worth of what's true, especially relevent in the awful presence of the Inquisition, which somehow overlooked the fact that people will confess to completely fabricated sins under torture. I've never understood how that couldn't be self-evident to even the simplest of people. I'd say it's probably lost a little from being a "palimpsest" of Umberto Eco's novel (I'd say you're being a little pretentious throwing words like that around in your opening credits.) Christian Slater's performance isn't that strong, but when weighed up side by side, this film's good points outweigh it's bad by a fair margin. I can easily see it as something I'd rate more highly with more viewings under my belt.

I could use links for Missing, Departures, and The Little Girl Who Conquered Time

Departures is on Tubi.

TLGWCT I found random on Internet Archive I believe.

Some films can be about nothing but sadness, and can contain everything about sadness, anger and hate - but when we watch them we feel gloriously uplifted. Why is that? Perhaps, when we see something that obviously understands sadness and anger so very well, we know for sure that there's an escape through self-knowledge, wisdom, experience - and metaphor. I say that because The Banshees of Inisherin uplifts me, no matter how much I empathise with it's two sad, warring parties Pádraic Súilleabháin (Colin Farrell) and Colm Doherty (Brendan Gleeson). Two isolated Irish islanders enacting their own small civil war as the real, explosive one between the Irish Provisional Government and IRA rages on the mainland. A happy place suddenly turning overnight into a cold and desolate landscape where witches roam the moors, and the sound of distant explosions far away speak of worse trouble elsewhere. It doesn't sound beautiful and wonderful, but Banshees somehow is.

Pádraic is a nice kind of fellow who is suddenly rejected by old friend Colm overnight, simply because Colm has decided Pádraic is too dull to waste time with - he wants to compose music, and leave something tangible behind instead of wasting the rest of his life with idle chit-chat. It's at once both understandable and outrageous, and I find myself swinging between those two very different reactions to his attitude. Pádraic sister, Siobhán (Kerry Condon), whom he lives with, takes issue with Colm - but she also seems to have been coming to terms with how awful most of the islanders are, and has already initiated her plan of escape from the desolate and unfriendly Inisherin. Dominic Kearney (Barry Keoghan), a simple, troubled boy, becomes Pádraic's default new friend. Dominic is beaten, and apparently sexually abused, by his father, Garda Peadar Kearney (Gary Lydon). As Pádraic's pleas and efforts to restart the friendship meet with a more and more stern reaction, Colm threatens to cut off his own fingers in a shocking escalation to the trouble between them, and the consequences of this cause their own hurt and tragedy.

Honestly, on paper it sounds terrible (if interesting), but the stunning work by all filmmakers on the truly eye-wateringly green and verdantly beautiful Inishmore turn it into a sight to behold, and a very poetic and winsome work of fiction and cinema. The Ben David cinematography makes the absolute most of Inishmore's jagged and cold terrain and old buildings, making for a very nice departure from Marvel action blockbusters. Carter Burwell's Oscar-nominated score wins me over by not going for Irish pastiche, instead opting for a more tuneful, light and melodic accompaniment to the troubles that accompany our wanderings in Inisherin. It eases the burden of the pain these characters carry around. Sight and sound combined bring a certain peace that helps ground the rumblings of discontent. How can a place that looks so cool, peaceful and idyllic give birth to so much discontent, bitter resentment, violence, abuse and petty grievance? There's so much space for everyone.

Colin Farrell was my personal choice on Oscar night - his was the performance of the year. He conveys sadness like no other actor I know, and his hurt shoots from the screen right into my mind. So good at doing that - I've seen him do it plenty of times, but in The Banshees of Inisherin he perfects it in the form of Pádraic. I was also very keen on Barry Keoghan, who had combined so well with Farrell before in Yorgos Lanthimos film The Killing of a Sacred Deer - Keoghan imbues his Dominic with a comic sensibility which makes all of the ugliness so very much easier to accept and process. The two have an easy chemistry, as does Farrell with Gleeson in a more edgy, spark-infused way. Their double-act was unmissable in another film by Martin McDonagh, In Bruges, and it's just as good here. Of course, Kerry Condon forms an integral part of the picture here - and is our own common-sense character in the film. Her expressions are what ours would be if we lived amongst this madness. All four were nominated for Oscars - but it just wasn't this film's year Oscar-wise.

So, to Martin McDonagh - thank you. Banshees wrestles with In Bruges as to which movie is my favourite of yours. I don't know how, but you make sadness, regret, depression and angst really fun and exciting to watch, especially when you add mental illness, stupidity and anger. Like I say, when you give us a broader view than your characters have, we can see the whole equation, where in a fundamental sense it proves to be more of a sense of how we can behave to be happy. When watching Banshees, I keep thinking, "Why don't these guys just set aside 15 minutes a day for idle banter, and compromise?" But when you're inside of that emotional kind of situation, the bigger picture remains clouded by intense feelings, and intrusive thoughts. Just like war, which could easily be solved by some fundamentally sensible compromise between nations, it's a matter of perspective. These characters are trapped by their very own lack of momentum, and end up losing that which they held dear. When concocted in such a fabulous film, which is such a pleasure to watch, I don't mind it at all - that's why fiction is so powerful. McDonagh has matured into a kind of master (he looks like Sting, doesn't he?) and this, another fine work of art on a canvas darkened by clouds, war, regret, sadness and loss.

48 reviews down excellent job everyone!