Wild Hearts and Wishes Fashion Shoot

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A new short film, Wild Hearts and Wishes Fashion Shoot, is a collaborative effort between Dan and North East photographer Paula Smart. The film features the track Fire Fire by up-and-coming London-based band Our Mother.

Modelling by Emma Townsend and Rebecca Young
Hair and make-up by Sarah Elizabeth Roe and Helen Watson
Mehndi Art by Mohima Mehndi
Flowers supplied by The Secret Garden, Jesmond, Newcastle
Gowns hired from The People’s Theatre, Newcastle
Soundtrack by Our Mother
Photography by Paula Smart – Wild Hearts and Wishes Photography
Camera Operators Dan Monk and Ian Monk
Editing by Dan Monk

DVD Review: Shut Up And Play The Hits (dir. Will Lovelace, Dylan Southern, 2012)

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I don’t remember when I first heard LCD Soundsystem. Vague apathy toward Daft Punk Is Playing At My House is probably the first memory I have of the band. More to the point, I don’t remember exactly when I first heard Sound Of Silver, but in the months that followed I distinctly remember being unable to put the record down. It started with the shifting crackling beats of album opener Get Innocuous. James Murphy’s synthesised vocal swirl over the opening drum sequence as it shifted into a layered driving beat specifically designed for late night consumption. Then after about fifteen genuinely interesting opening minutes, Someone Great. One repetitive note. A siren through a haze followed by clicks and whirls and pulses suddenly forming a unit of living breathing sound. The skies opened and out poured electric rain, car tyres splashing through puddles of neon. James Murphy started to sing – a cryptic tale of the purest heartache. What a song. What a fucking brilliant album.

Now I must confess I’m a one album man at the best of times. Once the claws are in, I can listen to the same album for months on end and so, Sound Of Silver came to be my definition of the band. Yes I knew the obligatory numbers from their debut. But even after the release of their third and final album This Is Happening, I was slow on the uptake. I didn’t need anymore. Until I heard about Shut Up And Play The Hits. And it’s tagline – If it’s a funeral… let’s have the best funeral ever. For a band who produced one of my favourite albums, I knew little about them and unfortunately lacked the experience of seeing them live. Obviously I still haven’t seen the band, but SUAPTH has gone a long way toward remedying these inconsistencies.

Shot during their final concert at Madison Square Garden the film documents the band’s last hours playing together under the LCD moniker, whilst throwing in the prelude to their arrival onstage and the twenty four or so subsequent hours in the show’s aftermath. The effect of so much material is that the film flies by, thanks in part to some brilliant editing. Having seen the film on it’s initial one night September release, I was initially blown away and even watching again the other afternoon it still feels fresh and this is probably due to the dense amount of material comprised largely of raucous concert footage, as well as backstage footage before and during the gig, various interviews with James Murphy and a healthy dose of the ever visually enchanting New York City. Part of the beauty of SUAPTH is that it plays as both concert film and introspective documentary. The live footage is stunning, as Southern and Lovelace employ a number of shooting styles which blend traditional static wide shots, with handheld close-ups of the band and various unorthodox angles of an expectant crowd. During the post screening Q+A back in September, the directors stressed the tiny budget they had to work with, which in truth suggests the skill of the pair in handling their subject as the film never looks cheap.

Yet the concert footage is only half the story. Much of the depth in SUAPTH is found in the filmmakers examination of Murphy. The film is as much about him as it is the band’s final act. As with any documentary, there is usually some sort of stand out moment – an epiphany of sorts. This film is no different and predictably it’s epiphany revolves around an emotional Murphy as he arrives for the final time at the warehouse containing the band’s equipment. It sounds contrived but it shouldn’t. In a final segment of interview in which Murphy is asked to contemplate the band’s singular failure by which they may come to be defined, he is forced to concede that in the act of quitting, his single failure may simply be self-consciousness – a fear of failure itself. In the next frame he is alone with his band’s equipment. There is no sound save for the buzz of a light and Murphy gently humming to himself as he ponders the end. Various close-ups of pedals and keys and snapshots of the last decade give way to an evocative shot of the band’s equipment lined up against a concrete wall, Murphy with his back to the camera standing all alone beside a clutch of guitars. Then he quietly breaks down for a moment. The scene is exquisitely orchestrated as it moves from a brief restaurant segue into closer New York I Love You, and under the softly focused glittering of Manhattan’s bright lights, we cruise through the city with Murphy as the focus pulls from the skyline to clearly reveal his face. It’s not regret but a palpable sense of uncertainty etched across this visual realisation which makes it quietly wonderful as opposed to crudely cliché. For all intents and purposes Murphy is a man slipping out of his dream and back into reality.

If you’re a fan of LCD Soundsystem and have somehow inexplicably failed to see this yet, then just buy a copy already. To anyone who simply likes a good old-fashioned concert film or documentary, spare this movie a couple of hours. Not only is it musically entertaining but as a documentary entry, it is a stirring celebration of success, insecurity, endings and new beginnings.

Dan Monk

Review: Berberian Sound Studio (dir. Peter Strickland. 2012)

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For someone who tracks upcoming movie releases with a zeal occasionally bordering on the obsessive, I was treated to a pleasant surprise a few days ago. Berberian Sound Studio is a film I hadn’t even heard of until a few hours prior to viewing, and yet through a friend’s eagerness to find a screening we headed over to Sheffield for the afternoon. For a start, don’t expect to see anything like Berberian Sound Studio again for a while. More importantly still, go in with as little knowledge of the film as possible. Unfortunately for my acquaintance’s, both had read numerous reviews and seen trailers and as such were left far removed from their expectations. Not knowing what to expect however, I was left quietly bowled over on reflection.

Set almost entirely in an anonymous 1970s sound studio in Italy, director Peter Strickland’s second feature follows protagonist Gilderoy, an introverted sound engineer from Dorking. Seemingly regarded as quietly brilliant in his field, he is brought onboard low-budget Italian film production, The Equestrian Vortex, in order to complete foley work.

The film’s initial genius is two-fold. Firstly, the nature of Berberian Sound Studio’s plot is such that The Equestrian Vortex isn’t seen so much as heard given Gilderoy’s role as a sound engineer. That is, Strickland lets us experience a film (within a film) almost through extracts of sound alone. It is an ingenious concept executed to varying degrees of humour by Strickland’s astute direction, and in essence gives the film’s structure an added dimension. Secondly, Berberian Sound Studio itself feels like two films – on the surface there is Gilderoy’s tale and yet, underneath the film has a distinct sense of documenting it’s own production as it examines the role of sound as a key component in the filmmaking process. In this sense the film is incredibly thought-provoking and yet it’s internal machinations are dressed up beautifully with thoughtful camerawork and mise-en-scene. As someone with a burgeoning interest in Italian cinema, particularly the Giallo’s of this period, there are some fantastic moments to behold once the sound stops rolling on The Equestrian Vortex and begins once more in the sound studio. Irate producers, diva actresses and sleazy directors all rear their ugly heads to expose the nature of studio politics and the curiously motivated world of exploitation cinema in one form or another, and though they are specific to Gilderoy’s Berberian nightmare, there is a wonderful sense that perhaps they also inhabited the sets of Argento, Bava or Fulci.

Moreover, Toby Jones must be commended for producing one of the year’s standout performances. Hesitant to expand for fear of spoiling the film further, I’ll simply say that he is nothing short of profound as Gilderoy, though in truth there is little else that can be said because the film simply has to be seen to be believed. It is certainly a slow burner and one that requires patience even long after the credits role. But then again with any film worth watching, patience is often rewarded and Berberian Sound Studio is no exception.

Dan Monk

DVD Review: Shame (dir. Steve McQueen, 2011)

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Having premiered at Venice in 2011 to glowing reviews, akin to those that greeted his debut Hunger at Cannes in 2008, director Steve McQueen’s follow up Shame was then spectacularly snubbed during this years awards season, receiving no Oscar nominations and being reduced to little more than a footnote at the Golden Globes and subsequently the BAFTA’s, with one and two nominations respectively. Admittedly, the film’s strict NC-17 rating has done little to help it’s chances during awards’ season, but do not let the lack of major nominations deter you from viewing one of last year’s stand out pieces of cinema.

Shame is quite simply, magnificent. A study of sex addiction perceived through the life of Brandon – an astonishing turn by this year’s Hollywood man of the hour Michael Fassbender – Shame pulls no punches in it’s depiction of a man who on the surface has it all, and yet beneath a thin veneer of contemporary corporate cool, is secretly pulling himself apart at the seams. Beginning with a ten minute montage of Brandon moving between the various facets of work and play which typify his upscale New York lifestyle, each is punctuated with an unreserved observation of his addiction. An intense encounter with a married woman on the subway, a subtle glance toward a woman as he manoeuvres a revolving door, or with less subtlety – retiring to various public and private locations to masturbate. From the outset McQueen and Fassbender pull no punches in depicting Brandon’s all-consuming desire for sexual gratification and continue in this vein throughout the film’s hour and a half running time. As we develop a sense of Brandon’s routine and the various masks he adopts depending on whose company he resides in, McQueen presents the deeply unsettling notion of a man functioning with a very real and increasingly intense addiction, which is further compounded by the arrival of sister Sissy – the outstanding Carey Mulligan. Without further divulging the plot, Sissy is the antithesis of Brandon’s carefully cultivated lifestyle, and thus the familial bonds which hold them together in spite of the pair’s enmity, lead to a raw emotional intensity rarely witnessed between two actors. Much like Mulligan’s performance alongside Ryan Gosling in Drive, the potency between the two is often a privilege to behold.

And yet as voyeuristic as we are made to feel by McQueen, Shame makes for fascinating viewing simply by virtue of the uncompromising nature with which he directs his vision. McQueen is not afraid of holding a shot. And we’re not just talking an extra couple of seconds but rather minutes. There is nothing on the scale of the infamous seventeen minute conversation during Hunger, though there are a number of lengthy takes throughout Shame which still represent brave choices and ultimately, add to the film significantly, the most memorable being Mulligan’s quietly spellbinding performance of New York, New York.

McQueen’s second film is tough. There is no doubt that many will find the subject matter unappealing and in some cases distasteful. For those that persevere however, there is a gem to be unearthed. For any aspiring actors the film is a must-see if only for the sheer self loathing Fassbender packs into a character searching for redemption in excess. As for anyone else, Shame comes highly recommended. McQueen has produced a startlingly honest, somewhat brutal, but essentially brilliant piece of cinema and deserves massive credit. There are few major awards this time around but McQueen is now assuredly at the top of the heap where exciting, innovative new directors are concerned.

Bonus Material

While not extensive, the bonus material included is a good addition to supplement the main feature with. Short interviews with Fassbender and Mulligan provide a succinct introduction to their respective character’s before an insightful half hour Q&A with Fassbender.

Dan Monk

Review: Bill Cunningham New York (dir. Richard Press, 2012)

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Bill Cunningham is an eighty-two year old New Yorker. He likes to photograph fashion. The chances are, you’ve never even heard of him, and yet, the choices he makes on a day to day basis have inadvertently affected what you and your friends have been wearing forever. How could that be you ask?

Bill Cunningham New York follows it’s namesake as the subject of an engrossing insight into a near half century effort to document fashion for fashion’s sake. Armed with little more than a camera, a bicycle and a raincoat held together by masking tape, Bill Cunningham has spent more than forty years of his life chronicling the sartorial endeavours of New York streets and socialites for his New York Times columns, On The Street and Evening Hours. Whilst Richard Press’ absorbing film presents Bill largely as a street photographer, the extent of his influence at the top of the industry is also examined, as various friends and colleagues are interviewed including longstanding Vogue editor Anna Wintour. The culmination of realising Bill’s importance within the fashion industry occurs though, as he waits quietly at a backstage entrance at Paris Fashion Week. Seemingly ignored by a young member of staff he is suddenly ushered through by a more experienced colleague who elaborates – “Don’t you know who this is? This is the most important man on the planet.” In the midst of the photographers gallery at the end of the runway, shutters and flashes are fired hurriedly as Press moves his own camera to reveal Bill on the front row of the catwalk studiously capturing the work of the designers whom he sits next to.

However Press’ film isn’t so much a portrait of it’s protagonist as an industry renowned professional – that much is obvious – as it is a story about a man who loves what he does for a living. An idea almost as trite as it is enviable, it does in Bill’s case ultimately aid the portrayal of a rare individual. Too often the words passion and commitment are applied to inevitably forgettable people and yet we apply them anyway. What distinguishes Bill as unique however is the manner in which he has devoted himself to his field. Even at the age of eighty-two he is presented as having an insatiable appetite for work, to the point at which his postage stamp apartment contains little more than a mattress and a series of floor to ceiling filing cabinets for storing negatives. Press also uses the subject of Bill’s eviction from his Carnegie Hall apartment as a subplot to great effect, teasing an evocative combination of humour and sadness as Bill views apartments over Central Park, wistfully wrestling with the inconvenience of living in a home with a bathroom and kitchen. It is in the few moments such as these that Press’ camera catches a glimpse of another side to Bill, and charming a subject as he is, it is clear there is a reluctance on his part to discuss his private life or too much of his past. There are biographical notes scattered throughout but the film is not a biopic in any sense and Press’ decision not to repeatedly force the issue of his subject’s reticence helps to cultivate an even more intriguing character.

Press has produced a film about a complex man leading a monastic existence. His intention to explore Bill Cunningham’s life – public and private – is constantly engaging and though he is met by a mirror time and again in his efforts regarding the latter, is rewarded with a documentary which illustrates a genuinely interesting life, and affords it’s audience a slice of Bill’s unrelenting charm and enthusiasm in the process.

Dan Monk