DVD Review: Dear Wendy

Lars Von Trier misfires in the Thomas Vintherberg-directed Dear Wendy



The Dandies in Dear Wendy

After the original and Brechtian Dogville, Lars Von Trier turned his attention once again to a stylised vision of America in Dear Wendy, which was directed by his Dogme pal, Thomas Vintherberg, the man who gave the world Festen (1999) one of the defining films of the 1990s. While Dogville worked because it was unabashedly minimalist and stagey, and thus allowed the audience to construct their ideas independently of Von Trier, Dear Wendy fails because it's not either artificial or realist enough, and the result is rather dull and half-baked. Dear Wendy is an schematic look at American culture through a hyperreal story set in an American town that is based on our accumulated collective memories of American iconography drafted from film history rather than reality. Carson McCullers' books do a better job at portraying that sort of southern gothic universe.

Dear Wendy is narrated by Jamie Bell's voice-over as his character Dick, a lonesome young man living in the stagey, self-contained Estherlope. The narration is based on a letter Dick has written to Wendy, his pearl-handed six-shooter. Dick is part of a group of pacifists comprised of Mark Webber, Alison Pill, Chris Owen and Michael Angarano. Together they form the Dandies, a group of misfits clad in Victoriana who spend their time practising with and idolising their guns.

Von Trier and Vintherberg try to create a parody of America, a psychotic, delusional country that believes that guns can promote peace, but which of course only leads to violence and death, as it happens at the end of the film during a shoot-out against Bill Pullman's sheriff's men. Most of the world and liberal America knows about the dangers of oil-thirsty, gun loving fundamentalist America that likes to speak in tongues and carry fire arms.

This is the problem of the film. The Danish Dogme duo are simply stating the obvious in Dear Wendy and they do so with a thick layer of pretension. They need to brush up on their politics if they want to add a significant contribution to the anti-violence, anti-war discourse. I was also disappointed with the content of the interview given by Von Trier and Vintherberg as one of extra features on the DVD - their postulations had the depth of a foundation media studies discussion group. Besides, their view of race and masculinity in the film is simplistic to say the least, and they seem to be in thrall of an MTV-style idea of youth; the film's occasional insertion of graphics often seems like ill-judged attempts at being cool.

Still, Dear Wendy does not erode my admiration for Trier and I hope he will restore his wonderful reputation with the upcoming Manderlay. It's recommendable on the basis of his and Vintherberg's past credits, but it will be remembered as a lapse in their filmography.

Brokeback Mountain: The Filter's verdict

Jake Gylenhall in Brokeback Mountain

Brokeback Mountain is one of those films that the film world needs very now and then: those films that everyone loves and few dare to say express a completely contrary opinion lest they sound like spoilsports.

It has its merits:

It shows the true consequence of homophobia: loneliness and violence;

It queers imagery normally associated with staunchily heterosexual values: Marlboro country imagery, masculinity and a type of very middle class 'prestige' type of film, of which director Ang Lee has become the main doyen.

the acting is good, although not as 'amazing' as drooling critics have been shouting about.


But:

A more realistic, less wall-papery style would have suited the subject matter better; there's a discrepancy between content and form;

This is supposed to be a love story and one that survives two decades; it is not convincing that those two men feel something so strong;

Although homophobia exists and is murderous, can we have a gay film where love is fully realised? It's too easy to carry on showing suffering and non-events;

And it's quite boring (by which I don't mean 'slow') and too 'understated', verging on Merchant Ivory fare.

DVD: The Devil's Rejects

The Devil's Rejects

Rob Zombie's follow-up to House of 1,000 Corpses is an exhilarating post-modern showdown

This rock 'n roll horror pantomime is like a reunion party of clichés that congregate in the diegetic space of the film to celebrate and wallow in blood-splattered references to the wilder corners of pop culture. With no pretence to being 'art' like, say, Tarantino, it nonetheless operates within the same post-modern ethos of pure visual pleasure heavily steeped in Americana.

The brainchild of rock man Rob Zombie, The Devil's Rejects is stuff for adult that refuse to grow up. It seams together elements of 70s schlock horror and the ultra-violence of 80s video nasties, with brief noddings to Natural Born Killers and A Nightmare on Elm Street, and probably others that horror aficionados will be well equipped to spot. The editing makes reference to the construction of a guitar rock song, with some segments arranged like riffs. Pauses and freeze-frames are used as musical silences. And the characters in the film, although grown-ups, lark about like hormonally-charged pubescent teenagers trying to be really bad.

So what's the story? True to the tradition post-modern collage monster, it is a flimsy one and all the better for that - again, this is about pop culture and hypertextuality - and aesthetics is the narrative. We start in a ranch house, exactly as we imagine a Deep South, Mark Twain-esque house to be, except that it's decorated with a macabre collection of objects dangling from the beams of the porch - we even get a pig's head sitting on top of the gate arch. Inside, the Firefly family is sleeping while a procession of police cars sieges the house, led by Sheriff Wydell (William Forsythe). Otis (Bill Moseley) and his sister Baby (Sheri Moon Zombie, a cross between a younger Farrah Fawcett and Sheryl Crow), the self-styled Devil's Rejects, manage to escape the barrage of bullets unharmed. They are joined by their errant father, Captain Spaulding (Sid Haig) and off they go on a killing spree until the film culminates in a showdown with Sheriff Wydell.

The Devil's Rejects is, in fact, a reunion of sorts, since the homicidal, sexually twisted Firefly family was first seen in Zombie's debut feature, House of 1,000 Corpses. Despite the gore, or perhaps because of it, it is a witty pleasure ride with a similar cathartic energy to the best devilish rock 'n roll. The timely Christmas release should work as the perfect antidote for the season's schmaltz. The DVD also includes a bonus disc with over two hours of making-of footage, deleted scenes and a bevy of short fun films.

PS: Attention cult pop aficionados: Andy Warhol's Chelsea Girl Mary Woronov has a bit part in the film.

The Devil's Rejects is out now.