February Sunday Corner With Lee Liberman THE DIG: Lighting the Dark Ages

This post is written by our monthly correspondent, Lee Liberman

An especially illuminating archaeological find on the grounds of Sutton Hoo House, Suffolk, England in 1939 is the inspiration behind this peaceful film on Netflix, THE DIG, starring Carey Mulligan, Ralph Fiennes, Lily James, Johnny Flynn and fine others supporting, especially young Archie Barnes who is compelling as the son of Mulligan’s character. Below Fiennes is juxtaposed with museum experts and young Archie at the site of the dig, a burial boat, described as ‘Like a time machine’. 

The film is based on John Preston’s 2008 novel The Dig in which the rich cache of a cosmopolitan, seventh century Anglo-Saxon king is unearthed in a burial boat. (Note that the adventurers in Michael Hirst’s Vikings and Bernard Cornwell’s The Last Kingdom novels and tv series overlap with the world of the notable buried on the Sutton Hoo estate.) 

Mrs. Pretty’s dig commences just as WWII is about to begin — a second German invasion. In the ancient first migration from Europe, foreigners from Scandinavia and Germany came to Britain after Rome abandoned the Isles in 410. Little survived of cosmopolitan Roman urban and Christian life in centuries following to give us a picture of the wealth and lives of those immigrants. But it is worth noting that while much of Britain returned to rusticity and paganism absent Rome, some folk were worldly, minus the means to brag about it on twitter. Thus the Sutton Hoo find in 1939 was destined for attention for its worldliness, if hidden away in an underground tunnel during the war and not displayed until years later. 

This, however, is a quiet, contemplative film rather than one to shout about — altogether a nerve-soother from the anxiety of our times. The story here is about competition among bureaucrats to take charge of the dig and its yield, a little romance, the sadness of impending death, and the rattlings of impending war. However the find itself was exceptional, real, and now long at home in the British Museum (below). 

The film’s quietness is fostered by the mood set by director Simon Stone and the lovely Suffolk countryside. Mulligan and Fiennes are each iron-willed, humble, and thoughtful, as widow Edith Pretty, owner of Sutton Hoo, and Basil Brown, her hired, self-taught archeologist. Brown was scorned by museum experts as a mere excavator, while Edith was subject to their flattery, leading the two principals to operate with sympathy for each other as the laborious project advanced.

So little has survived from the Anglo-saxons that the Sutton Hoo discovery, in the end gifted by Mrs. Pretty to the British Museum, is particularly compelling. The burial chamber at the center of the ship contained lavish goods of the man lying in state, according to Martin Carver, professor emeritus at the University of York and an expert on Sutton Hoo. The occupant had personal things— a buckle woven from pure gold, shoulder clasps, his warrior sword, axe-hammer, shield, coat of mail and spears; also material for hosting a feast in the afterlife such as cooking equipment, a cauldron, a lyre, and parade gear and regalia.

According to BBC’s historyextra.com and Britannica, a king of East Anglia, Raedwald, is thought to have been buried in the oval mound, a convert to Christianity who retained his paganism. Northumbrian monk Bede, his work completed in 731, is the most certain source about Raedwald, who was born 560-80 and ruled 599 until his death in 624. ( Note 1.) He is not the only candidate for the occupant of the mound; there are others, though he is favored. 

The rites of ship burial and grave goods have parallels in Sweden, suggesting a Swedish origin for this particular royal. A quantity of silverware and 41 solid gold pieces were found— (Frankish) coins to pay the boatmen for transport to eternity, date to the early 7th century. A silver dish dates from the Byzantian Anastasius (491-518), a bowl comes from Egypt. The conclusion, loudly proclaimed by the British Museum archeologist in our film, is that at least this dark age East Anglican did not live in the dark. Some were world-wide travelers and traders or had the wealth and knowledge to benefit from it. The film offers next to nothing about specific burial goods. War broke out so suddenly that scholars did not know all that they had until the cache was examined after the war. Below is an archival photo of the original dig. 

To drum up appeal the screenplay gives us a relationship between Edith Pretty’s invented cousin Rory who is photographing the site (Mr. Flynn, below, l) and archeologist on site, Peggy Piggott (Ms James, below, r) whose husband (Ben Chaplin) prefers men. Note 2 offers a feminist view of this flaw. Two women actually photographed the goods (see them in the second note), and Peggy Piggott was a twice degreed archeologist, not the awkwardly insecure young woman that James is given to portray. It’s true that the Piggotts divorced 15 years later, but whether he was gay is unknown and the trumped up romance was a lazy plot device. 

An agism offense is not having cast an older actress to play Edith who was fifty-six, forgivable because 35-year-old Mulligan is perfection as the ailing Mrs. Pretty, frightened by her failing health and the prospect of orphaning her son. Mulligan is no show horse — less is more is how she works, as she continues to burnish her reputation of excellence. (Below Mulligan and the real Mrs. Pretty.)

She and excavator Basil’s quiet simpatico and his with her son Robert are relationships that don't scintillate but wear well in this tranquil tale. (Edith died in 1942 at 59 of a blood clot. Robert was just 12; he died of cancer like his father in 1988 at 57, leaving 3 children.) Taken together for its discovery of ‘Britain’s Tutankhamun’, to increased knowledge of the ‘dark-age’ early centuries, to the calming pleasure of its beauty, this lovely film is a pleasure. 

Note 1: Raedwald

Note 2: a feminist critique of characters

Aaron Sorkin's THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7 and Steve McQueen's MANGROVE vs Peter Morgan's safely elitist/escapist THE CROWN

Right off the bat I must admit that my attitude toward Britain's Royal Family pretty much mirrors that of moviemaker Terence Davies as described in his rich and moving documentary, Of Time and the City: the sooner our world (and especially Britain) is rid of this nutrient-sapping plague, the better off we'll all be. Goodness knows, we will have much less gossip fodder for the tabloids and soap opera for the TV -- but, hey, them's the breaks. If you're a huge fan of the Netfix series THE CROWN, as so many folk currently are, our Sunday Corner correspondent Lee Liberman has covered the series in depth already, so TrustMovies himself will simply say that when his spouse and he began watching it several years back, we stopped after a few episodes, finding it, as spousie surmised, just more "Royal Family Bullshit" (RFB). 

Coming back to The Crown in the current Season Four (due to all that media hoopla), and again lasting only a few episodes, we were quicky enmired in more RFB, the leading purveyor of which is certainly Peter Morgan, writer/creator of The Crown, as well as of The Queen, who, though he writes wittily and entertainingly, still gives us mostly RFB -- granted with a goodly amount of the Royal Family's pecadilloes in plain view (an alternate titled for the series might have Pecadilloes on Parade!). 

This offers up the chance for audiences to escape into a white, elitist fantasy, while simultaneously feeling superior to the mostly silly twats on view -- really quite an unbeatable combo for mainstream entertainment. The new season is also an opportunity to see some of Britain's and America's finest actors strutting their stuff (quietly and oh, so seriously, of course!), from Olivia Colman (the Queen) to Gillian Anderson (a very fine Margaret Thatcher) and Josh O'Connor (above, as a glum, dumb Prince Charles). 

A very different look at the Britain of the second half of the 20th Century (circa 1970) can be found in MANGROVE, one of the five new films from writer/director Steve McQueen that are part of Amazon Prime Video's new Small Axe series. Mangrove is a hard film to watch because it deals openly and honestly with British racism, especially by the police, during this time. It mirrors our own racism here in the USA, and though it is not overly violent, the entitled, racist -- both casually and nastily --  attitude of  the white, upper-class establishment will be difficult to watch for those of us who grew up in that time either in Britain or here in the USA and tacitly allowed all this to go on. And on. Particularly at this current time, as the Black Lives Matter movement grows and more and more about the racism of then and now comes to light.

Mr. McQueen is a tad heavy on repetition and on some of his messaging about the need to organize and join together to defeat the white elite, but mostly he draws such wonderful performances from his fine cast (that includes Letitia Wright, above, and Shaun Parkes, below) and, along with his co-writer Alastair Siddons, gives us a splendid court trial (of The Mangrove Nine), during which he effectively puts us in a position that comes close to being a member of the jury on this case that his film finally works on every level.

Folk who, when they hear the words Notting Hill, immediately think of Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts, may instead now find themselves remembering instead this little-but-major movie that reminds us of what has been accomplished and how much yet remains to be done.

The tale told in Aaron Sorkin's newest, THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7 (streaming on Netflix), is much more complex than that of Mangrove, and though both films use a lot of exposition, Mr. Sorkin, not simply clever but also smart, manages to entertain us royally, as well as educate us about a genuinely fascinating trial that captured the world's attention back in 1969. Sorkin's star-studded cast includes everyone from British actors such as Sacha Baron Cohen, Eddie Redmayne and Mark Rylance to Frank Langella (who makes a terrific Judge Hoffman) and Joseph Gordon-Levitt (below), who aces the role of this film's most complex character, a highly traditional and conservative prosecutor who also possesses scruples and morals.

Sorkin's movie is one of this year's best, and while everything about it resonates, for TrustMovies, the most surprising moments came as I watched the film's black defendant Bobby Seale, along with Fred Hampton, and realized how differently I view these men now than I had at the time of the trial -- when Black Panthers seemed to me a frightening bunch and what they were telling us was too overstated to be believed. Watching this really terrific movie in the context of what's going on today made me realize even more strongly how naive I was at that time. 

So go to The Crown for escape if you must, but see Mangrove and The Trial of the Chicago 7 to get reacquainted with British and American history and "justice for all." 

Streaming non-tip: Raffaello Degruttola's tiresome TRANSFERENCE: A LOVE STORY

The movie begins with a quote from the French teacher/philosopher/ religious mystic Simone Weil -- "A hurtful act is the transference to others of the degradation we bear in ourselves" -- which then plays out in the tale told by Raffaello Degruttola, who directed and also stars in the film as its very beleaguered non-hero. Interestingly, no actual writing credit is given here; instead, the end credits note "story devised and directed by" Mr. Degruttola, which could help account for the generally lame dialog.

Another bit of interest: In the film's opening and closing credits, its title is given as simply TRANSFERENCE. However, the U.S. distributor, 1091 Pictures, is calling it TRANSFERENCE: A LOVE STORY, while on the IMDB, you can find it labeled TRANSFERENCE: A BIPOLAR LOVE STORY. Further, the IMDB also lists the film as running 90 minutes, rather than the way overlong 107 that the current version lasts.

The biggest problem here is that Degruttola (above) has given us a movie filled with very attractive people who have too little to do, not much to think about, even less to say, and almost nothing to offer so that an attentive audience will want to stick around. Instead we meet a very young and pretty caregiver (Emilie Sofie Johannesen, below) working in a palliative care facility in England who meets and mates with an older but hunkily attractive male nurse (played by Degruttola). He refrains from telling her the most important information about him (his medical condition and the fact that he has stopped taking the proper medication for this), so their affair is fraught with general unpleasantness (and a whole lot of boredom, unless you are very new to the love-story genre) throughout, as we wait impatiently for his "big secret," which we've pretty much already guessed, to be revealed.

The lovers' dialog is filled with those kind of "sweet nothings" that add up to just about zero, and the film is filled with typically long stares into space by the pair as they lie in bed. The soundtrack is full of sloppy pop songs meant to stand in for missing content, and the movie's funniest moment comes toward the end as he exclaims to her, "I don't want you to see me like this!" Like what,? you'll want to ask Degruttola, since he looks and acts exactly as he has throughout the entire movie, save for one silly anger scene more than midway along. He is not, TrustMovies fears, a very versatile actor.

But on and on it goes until those 107 minutes are over and done with and relief is at hand. Somehow, I doubt that Simone Weil would approve. Transference: Whatever Kind of Love Story You Want to Call It hits home video streaming this Tuesday, November 10, for purchase, and the following Tuesday, November 17, for rental. Click here for details.

On digital: Tom Cullen's PINK WALL highlights the ups and down of a six-year relationship

"Who are these people?" you may ask yourself during the initial scene of PINK WALL, as two characters begin babbling on in ways that appear improvised but also seem more than a little "off." Unfortunately, this babbling never stops, and while the two actors involved -- Tatiana Maslany and Jay Duplass -- have fine track records, given the tired and tiresome situations and dialog they are given here, try as they might (and they mightily do), characters we care about, empathize with or even believe are real never finally or fully materialize.

The fellow most responsible for this would be the writer/director, Tom Cullen (shown at left), who also happens to be, according to the IMDB, the long-term partner of Ms Maslany (shown above and below), which goes a distance in explaining her involvement here. Mr. Cullen made a large and positive mark as one of the lead actors in Andrew Haigh's Weekend, and he has graced some other good films.

This is Cullen's first foray into writing and directing however, and he clearly did not learn much from Weekend's spare and on-the-mark disalog. The chattering here is near-constant and often grating as all hell.

"Don't they ever shut up?" TrustMovies wondered from time to time as this 82-minute (but still too long) movie unfurled. No, they don't, but if the subjects this pair of long-time lovers discuss did not seem so typical and if the discussion rose above mostly cliché, we might better appreciate it. The most interesting section involves open relationships, and here, for a change, a few other characters are also involved. Even this extended scene gives us little new to ponder concerning the age-old question -- except maybe the first cock-size-à-propos-cunt-size exploration I've seen on screen.

I suspect the movie wants more than anything else to be "cool," as one of its characters accuses the other of always trying to be. It may indeed manage this, depending on your definition of the word. Time-wise the film moves back and forth between year six and year one of this relationship, with each of its half-dozen scenes meant to show us more of this fraught relationship. Finally, though, it all fudges together into the single non-stop talk-fest of two good actors trapped in poor material.

By way of recent companison, however, this movie is way better than Entangled. From 1091, Pink Wall hits digital tomorrow, Tuesday, November 12 -- for purchase and/or rental.

First love gets a second time around in Warren B. Malone's Brit rom-com, ACROSS THE RIVER

Random Media has come up with a number of interesting little films of late, several of which have been covered here at TrustMovies.

The company's latest addition, ACROSS THE RIVER, is yet another enjoyable piece of cinema that is small-scale but well enough directed, written and acted to qualify as a success and good enough to be placed on the "watch-it" list of those viewers who appreciate independent cinema, no matter the country of origin (in this case, it's Britain).

The writer/director is a fellow named Warren B. Malone (shown at left), whose first full-length feature this appears to be, after having made a few short films. Even then, Across the River is only 75 minutes long -- which proves just enough to grab us and keep us interested for the day that our two ex-lovers, who've "met cute" after maybe a decade apart, spend slowly and haltingly discovering who each other have since become.

The river in question is London's Thames, and the two folk who need to cross it -- there are various work stoppages going on which make it difficult to get either the tube or a taxi --

are ex-lovers Ryan (played by Keir Charles, above) and Emma (Elizabeth Healey, below). Mr. Charles is particularly good: full of low-key charisma and the kind of slightly goofy quality that can be quite sexy when it is also easy-going and never pushy. Ms Healey, on the other hand, has the more difficult role of the tight-ass, professional woman who must slowly unburden herself of both inhibitions and history. But she is attractive and very good at keeping her feelings close to the vest.

The movie's "re-meet cute" situation proves a tad manipulative, what with a flashback and an awfully coincidental dropping of a cell phone, but once we get past the first few minutes, and Ryan and Emma have properly reunited (even if only to grumble and argue for awhile), the movie springs quietly to life and we're off and running.

How and why these two knew each other and what happened to them leeches slowly from the screenplay, and the two actors (who are credited as screenwriters, in addition to Mr. Malone) perform with enough improvisational style that we easily buy into their relationship -- both then and now.

And if the movie relies a bit too much on the usual small talk -- of the paint job on the Houses of Parliament and the look of the popular London Planetree -- which is often overpowered into silence by the (also low-key) musical score, the filmmaker at least knows where he is going and how to get us there.

In its last 20 minutes or so, the movie rises to its own occasion and  -- interestingly enough, once our couple has again been separated -- actually becomes more intense, funny, charming and propulsive. The film's ending, in fact, is even rather moving. In all, this is 75 minutes of British not-quite-rom-com slice of life that proves worth experiencing.

From Random Media, Across the River made its worldwide debut via Digital, DVD and VOD yesterday, July 17 -- for purchase and/or rental.

The "twatification" of fashion reaches its apotheosis in Michael Roberts' doc, MANOLO: THE BOY WHO MADE SHOES FOR LIZARDS

Yes, "twatification," and though I can't be certain I've coined the word, do feel free to use it if you like. It certainly fits MANOLO: THE BOY WHO MADE SHOES FOR LIZARDS, the new documentary about to hit South Florida (after opening in NYC and L.A. last week). Entitlement oozes from every pore of this diabetic confection, as it also seems to from the film's subject: the gosh-he's-got-an-ego-the-size-of-Texas footwear designer, Manolo Blahnik. In this bizarre and way-too-lengthy film (there's content here for about 30 minutes, yet the movie trails on for 90), we get a little Blahnik history, a look back at those notorious 1960s and 70s, and a view of many of the pretty, colorful shoe designs with which this guy has gifted us.

As director, first-timer Michael Roberts, shown at left, regales us with talking heads of celebrity and fashion -- from Anna Wintour (sans sunglasses!) to Rupert Everett to Rihanna (below, right) --  who drone on and on about the wonders of Mr. Blahnik and his creations. A little of this goes a very long way. My spouse, who has a much higher tolerance for fashion's idiocy than does TrustMovies himself, found the film initially fun, but by its end was rolling his eyes and twitching in annoyance. To quote him: "This could be a recruiting film for ISIS in how it shows our culture."

From the beginning Blahnik (shown above, left) comes across as something of an effete snob, and though he has little of intelligence to tell us, he at least does so with energy and spirit. But Mr. Roberts' contributions to the film are particularly misguided and obtuse. While some archival footage and photos are used (as below), the filmmaker prefers to give us staged recreations of childhood and young adulthood that range from so-so to simply silly, seeming to be on view so that we can see how "creative" this director can be.

The nadir is reached during a pointless episode in which Roberts creates a tacky, technicolor and completely unnecessary update of the Dietrich/von Sternberg Blond Venus (shown below: Is this the filmmaker's audition to direct a remake, perhaps?).

Along the way we get quite a bit of Bianca Jagger, a look at the footwear the guy designed for Sofia Coppola's Marie Antionette, and a section in which Blahnik and John Galliano reminisce. I must admit that the movie is rather lovely, sometimes quite beautiful, to look at (those shoes set against various nature/floral scenes), though the most fun visually has to be the delectable petits fours shown us at one point, the top of which offers up the image of a Manolo shoe on the frosting.

And although the shoemaker's love/sex life is alluded to and then put aside (one would guess he is gay, but, well, maybe not), we do learn something of the importance of Blahnik's relationships with three women, the late Misses Isabella Blow, Anna Piaggi and Tina Chow. 

Mostly, though, it's just Wintour (above), as well as others, wagging on about Blahnik's brilliance in a movie so filled with self-love and ego-boosting by others that I am surprised the filmmaker, his cast and crew could view the finished product without feeling noticeable embarrassment.
 

From Music Box Films, Manolo: The Boy Who Made Shoes for Lizards opens this Friday, Sept. 22 in Miami at the O Cinema Wynwood and in Ft. Lauderdale at the Savor Cinema, and next Friday, Sept. 29 at the Living Room Theaters here in Boca Raton. To find venues elsewhere around the country, click here and then click on THEATERS in the task bar midway down your screen.

Gillies MacKinnon's WHISKY GALORE is a charming, spirited remake of the 1949 original

Pay absolutely no attention to today's New York Times sour and incomprehensible review of WHISKY GALORE, a very smart and spirited remake of the popular 1949 movie directed by Alexander Mackendrick. Rather than try to "modernize" the remake, as the Times reviewer suggests, director Gillies MacKinnon (shown below) and screenwriter Peter McDougal wisely stick to the original -- which was low-key and delightful then -- and come up with a film that is low-key and delightful now.

This tale -- of a small island off Scotland during World War II that is suddenly deprived of its liquor and a sailing vessel (three photos below) full of the stuff that is suddenly moored on the rocks just off-shore -- proves a sweet, succulent story that gives a fine ensemble cast the chance to shine together. The movie also captures the look and feel of its 1940s era with ease and charm, and the behavior of the actors is quite in keeping with that time and place. There is, thankfully, no inclusion of the kind of "modern" nonsense -- foul language, fart jokes, hot sex or fast car chases -- that some less skillful filmmakers might use to "update" this old-fashioned tale.

Instead we get an ensemble of townsfolk who are, each in his/her way, specific and amusing, and who join together to bring booze back to its rightful place. (Teatotalers, I would guess, need not bother to view this one.) It's all enchanting and full of charm and the kind of coincidence that is necessary and indeed works well in this sort of movie.

The cast is large and swell, with the most prominent name being that of Eddie Izzard, above, who plays what the film posits as something close to the villain's role. He's sweetly funny and nasty, but even his comeuppance is tinged with love, as his wife assures him that his arrest is just a "slap on the wrist."

That wife is played by the wondrous Fenella Woolgar (if you've never seen her award-calibre performance in Bright Young Things, please do). I have dearly hoped to see Ms Woolgar in another role as good as that, but until then, this one will do nicely.

As the island's grumpy postmaster with two highly marriageable daughters, Gregor Fisher (above) is terrific. But then so is everyone else. And MacKinnon and McDougal see to it that the tone, style and speed of all this adheres beautifully to the era at hand.

From Arrow Films and running a just-right 98 minutes, Whisky Galore opens today in New York City at the Cinema Village and in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Music Hall 3. 

A PATCH OF FOG: Michael Lennox's Brit thriller about enforced friendship hits VOD & iTunes

You could hardly ask for a better matched pair of sad/sleazy assholes than the two non-heroes encountered in A PATCH OF FOG, the 2015 British/Irish mystery thriller co-written by John Cairns and Michael McCartney and directed by Michael Lennox (shown below: this is his first full-length narrative film). The two characters are a security guard in a retail store (played by the always worth-watching Stephen Graham) and a semi-famous author/critic (played by Conleth Hill, an actor whom I've seen at various times over the years, but never in a leading role, as here).

When an act of shoplifting by the latter, catches the security camera and eye of the former, an edgy, off balance pas-de-deux begins between these two men that goes from threat and plea to quiet blackmail and beyond, in which one man, then the other, appears to have the upper hand. But what does the security chief, Robert (below, right) actually want of the blowhard critic, Sandy (below, left)? It takes a good amount of time for even one shoe to drop, and when it does the result is likely to make you feel more sad than fearful -- for more than half of the movie's running time, at least.

A Patch of Fog is indeed a mystery. But it is one involving character and motive as much as the usual thrills and chills. Thanks to some decent writing and smart directorial choices, the movie builds enough suspense and surprise to keep us interested. And it make a fine showcase for the talents of Graham (above and below, right) and Hill (above and below, left, and two photos below).

Graham is such a marvelously versatile actor (compare this performance with his in another fine British film, Blood, for just one example) that he does wonders with the character of the needy Robert. Hill exudes such smarmy, insufferable self-regard that we suspect more is going on within this guy that we're anywhere near privy to.

The film's ending, with a non-quite-unexpected surprise or two still up its sleeve, seems about as "just" as one could with for, considering the two characters on view.

Distributed in the USA by XLrator Media and running a just-about-right 92 minutes, the movie goes straight to home video this coming Tuesday, January 24, when it will hit VOD and iTunes simultaneously.