Qualifying the identity of a charismatic colossus with definitive ambient converging characteristics can be as politically crafty as the individual under observation, if sober rhetoric is to be biographically evidenced, the resultant identity less of a fiction than an interpretive constellation/polemic/homage/impression, narrative arguments creatively distilling personality inasmuch as their propositions are culturally elevated, for a time, for a fissure, for a season, skilfully situating themselves within broader agitations depending on the motivations of their supporting cast, like strategic serendipity, or a bit of provocative horseplay.
The wonderful thing about In Search of Lost Time is that it follows the same characters for thousands of pages throughout their lives, Proust intricately demonstrating how different ages and relationships and fashions and successes/failures privately shape mass marketed caricatures, a book about someone's life seeming more like a resonant aspect within such a frame, even if the press may still play the Ignatieff card if it so chooses.
So much diversity condensed into stereotypical miniatures which guide light yet edgy conversations with the playful wit of meaningless escapades.
Unless they're about Trump.
Monster.
Jonathan Teplitzky's Churchill sympathetically examines the great orator's rational wish to not repeat World War I's Gallipoli disaster.
His criticisms of Operation Overlord, as logical and sound as they appear, were countered by alternative evaluations which were rather unappreciative of his sustained opposition.
The realization that his viewpoints weren't militaristically cherished briefly derailed his confident locomotion, the film humanistically yet melodramatically suggesting that this was the moment he completely transformed from military strategist to political exponent.
Chruchill (Brian Cox) the man figures more prominently in Teplitzky's film than the immutable godlike figurehead I've encountered in books at times, a compelling cinematic feature considering how respectfully leadership at the highest levels is depicted within.
Cognizant of the great unknown, the approach of less critical engagements, he strove on regardless, cultivating tidal pride.
James Purefoy (King George VI) delivers a brilliant supporting performance.
Brian Cox also excels.
*Forgot to mention the ways in which Churchill's editing process is dramatized: fantastic. At least when he's searching for the right word.
Showing posts with label Jonathan Teplitzky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jonathan Teplitzky. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
Friday, May 16, 2014
The Railway Man
Insurmountable trauma, disturbingly deconstructing any stable sense of self, recurring, regenerating, relapsing, biding its time, crocodiling in crucible, beyond sublimatic recourse, entrenched and ravenous, purloined to renew, its helpless, caustic, blight.
Eric Lomax (Colin Firth/Jeremy Irvine) survived systematic torture in a Japanese prisoner of war camp during World War II to return to Britain a free man, yet the horrific memories have left him sealed and solitary.
Love's invigorating warmth can't help him overcome, and his desperate wife Patti (Nicole Kidman) seeks the aid of his comrades of war to find a sustainable solution.
As luck would have it, the whereabouts of one of his assaulter's accomplices have been discovered, such knowledge providing him with the potential to pursue a just cause.
Hesitant and confused, The Railway Man struggles with this burden, before submitting to the inevitable, and retributively withstanding.
It jumps between the present and the past, the length of the wartime scenes compounding Mr. Lomax's illness, suggesting that he is capable of circumventing its madness for a time, before its destabilizing will pathologically lurches.
I prefer it when filmmakers regularly intercut psychologically debilitating lesions but Jonathan Teplitzky's method speaks to Mr. Lomax's strength, and brilliance.
The Railway Man is a rational film, examining the affects of war on a highly logical mind.
It therefore lacks the emotional depth I'm used to seeing in films exploring the aftershocks of war, triumphing in its temperance, resolving through reason.
Eric Lomax (Colin Firth/Jeremy Irvine) survived systematic torture in a Japanese prisoner of war camp during World War II to return to Britain a free man, yet the horrific memories have left him sealed and solitary.
Love's invigorating warmth can't help him overcome, and his desperate wife Patti (Nicole Kidman) seeks the aid of his comrades of war to find a sustainable solution.
As luck would have it, the whereabouts of one of his assaulter's accomplices have been discovered, such knowledge providing him with the potential to pursue a just cause.
Hesitant and confused, The Railway Man struggles with this burden, before submitting to the inevitable, and retributively withstanding.
It jumps between the present and the past, the length of the wartime scenes compounding Mr. Lomax's illness, suggesting that he is capable of circumventing its madness for a time, before its destabilizing will pathologically lurches.
I prefer it when filmmakers regularly intercut psychologically debilitating lesions but Jonathan Teplitzky's method speaks to Mr. Lomax's strength, and brilliance.
The Railway Man is a rational film, examining the affects of war on a highly logical mind.
It therefore lacks the emotional depth I'm used to seeing in films exploring the aftershocks of war, triumphing in its temperance, resolving through reason.
Labels:
Friendship,
Jonathan Teplitzky,
Marriage,
Prisoners of War,
Revenge,
The Railway Man,
Torture,
Trains,
Trauma,
War
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