Kids With Guns: Depictions of Adolescence in Monos and Piranhas

Monos and Piranhas LFF

As teenage gangs and knife crime become familiar news stories, two exciting filmmakers expose the frenetic energy and naivety of youth by putting weapons in the hands of their fresh-faced casts. From Alejandro Landes (Porfirio) comes Monos, an extraordinary and atmospheric drama about the disintegration of a team of child soldiers. Monos took home the Official Competition prize for Best Film at this year’s London Film Festival and opens in UK cinemas today. Piranhas, works in the opposite direction focussing on the rise of a child gang or ‘paranza’. Piranhas also received its UK premier at LFF where I spoke to writer-director, Claudio Giovannesi (Alì Blue Eyes, Fiore) about his depiction of adolescence in the film. In this feature I explore how Monos and Piranhas portray this complicated transition and what they might tell us about teenage life today. 

The teenagers in Monos use their semi-automatic rifles to guard an adult hostage on a remote Columbian mountainside. They are unpredictable, excitable, impulsive. Rarely visited by their military commanders, they revel in love, games and magic mushrooms, jubilantly firing their AK-47s in euphoric, hot-headed celebration. Knife-edge tension accompanies their volatility seen through the eyes of their mature hostage ‘Doctora’ (Julianne Nicholson) at the mercy of their every whim.

Monos film

Monos has been interpreted as a meditation on the use of child soldiers and an examination of cult dynamics; a power struggle in the vein of Lord Of The Flies. Beneath this lies a much simpler story about the over-confidence of youth; about foolish mistakes with lasting consequences. Recklessness with their guns sets in motion a cataclysmic series of events that the young people cannot escape.

The same kind of frenetic energy bubbles through Claudio Giovannesi’s coming of age drama about teen gangs in Naples, Piranhas. On the roof of an apartment block this group of triumphant teenagers fire their own AK-47s at satellite dishes. This gleeful target practice, aided by Youtube videos, is masked by the ecstatic sound of fireworks. Based on Roberto Saviano’s novel, Piranhas took home a Silver Bear at Berlin earlier this year.

Piranhas film

Just as Monos builds tension from the conflict between the teenagers’ youthful exuberance and the seriousness of their task, Giovannesi suggests the irony of a drug dealing ‘paranza’ who still live at home with their parents. His attraction to the project lay in the “possibility to portray a series of teenagers who are constantly in a precarious balance, somewhere in between war and game, innocence and fierceness, unawareness, the lack of thoughtfulness and tragedy,” explained Giovannesi in conversation at the London Film Festival, “I found this kind of contradiction very poetic”. The poetry is echoed in the haunting portraiture of Monos, the camera closing in on fierce yet ambiguous shots of the characters’ faces imbued with Shakespearean intensity.

The sensual photography of Monos deserves to be seen on the biggest screen available. But it’s the sound design – a hallucinogenic score from Mica Levi that’s fused into the film’s sound architecture with birdsong – that most effectively reveals the teenagers’ connection with their environment.

Monos film

Landscape is vital to the depiction of adolescence in both films. The young people strut just as boldly through the narrow streets of Naples as the exposed hillsides of South America. The teenagers’ habitats not only reveal their confidence and resourcefulness, but also the edges of their comfort zones. Their experiences are intense but, ultimately, limited. For Giovannesi:

“The area in which the film is set is one of the protagonists because the whole struggle of the film, the whole conflict of the film, has to do with who has power over it. So it really is like a fairy tale with a kingdom that has to be conquered or retaken from the invaders. So of course what was very important was that the film was actually set in the areas where these stories happened and where the novel is set. And it is very important because you get a sense of the identities that the characters or the actors had in relation to the areas that they come from.”

His film is spoken entirely in Naples’ unique dialect. “In Italy when it came out in cinemas,” Giovannesi explains, “you needed to have Italian subtitles because no Italian would be able to follow the dialogue otherwise”. The way the characters move through the urban landscape evokes their chaotic, unpredictable energy. Giovannesi oscillates between a static frame crammed with the paranza and a moving camera that traces their motion. “If you think about their essence,” says Giovannesi, “it really has to do with movement and the lack of stasis or the lack of stillness.”   

Piranhas film

While Landes might suggest the impressionable nature of young minds to radical ideology, Giovannesi reveals their susceptibility to the everyday pressures of a consumerist society. His young men covet designer clothes and watches. Their jaws drop at the ostentatious homes of the local bosses. They too want to be seen; to have their own table at the best club in town. Once on top, the teenagers pour all their money into designer gear. They might be dealing drugs, shooting guns and committing murder, but their purchases reveal the wide-eyed immaturity of youth. Gifting the ageing Don Vittorio a widescreen TV and a Playstation, they entertain him with games while he’s under house arrest.

Self-appointed leader, Agostino, hankers after a t-shirt emblazoned with a set of wings. It’s rich with symbolism, suggesting both Agostino’s ‘coming of age’ and the rise of his paranza. As he explains in Saviano’s novel:

‘“It’s like taking someone else powers: it’s as if we’d captured an archangel, which is sort of like saying the boss of the angels, cut its throat, and taken its wings. It’s not the kind of thing that just happens along, it’s something we sweated for, that we fought hard for and won, and now it’s as if we were Archangel from the X-Men got it? It’s sort of like… something we achieved, got it?”’

Pop culture and social media is ever present, feeding and communicating the teenagers’ lifestyle. Don Vittorio asks why Agostino doesn’t try to become a footballer – ‘they’re rich’ – driving home the idea that the teenagers are looking for a shortcut. They are overconfident, lack experience and yet seek to fill a power vacuum left by outgoing mobsters two or three times their age. The story feels acutely relevant, symptomatic of a youth raised on X-Factor and Got Talent, conditioned to easy routes to fame. 

Piranhas film

Giovannesi explains his desire to “portray them as any other adolescents… with their whole world of social media, YouTube, Instagram, Facebook, selfies”. Mobster movies inform their behaviour, shaping not only their aspirations but their very identities. Their naivety is charming, often funny, but it’s overlaid with a tragic sense that behaviour in youth defines adult futures.

Saviano, whose novel homes in on dialect and language, explores this through the teenagers’ nicknames or monikers. Don Vittorio explains that:

‘“It’s important what people call you. Your moniker is more important than your real name… If you want to command, you have to have a name that commands. It can be ugly, it can mean nothing, but it can’t be foolish.”’

The pressures faced by young people in establishing and defining their identities also runs through Monos. Indeed, Landes’ characters are known only by their nicknames: Wolf, Bigfoot, Lady, Rambo, Boom Boom, Dog, and Swede. Writing for Roger Ebert, Sheila O’Malley asks whether the sensitive Rambo’s “nom de guerre” might be “a mean-spirited tease imposed on her by the squadron”. “This is how “peer pressure” works in its most sinister state,” she explains, “If it’s hard for adults to stay their own course, then imagine how hard it is for teenagers.” 

In both films, the young people negotiate subtle forms of intimidation, identity crises and shifting morality in their attempt to claim a piece of the adult world; taking chances and seizing the opportunities placed before them. The child soldiers in Monos declare “Doctora is ours now”; a power grab that smacks of a yearning for adulthood. Relocated from the thin air of the mountains to the intense, sticky claustrophobia of the jungle, the young people begin to lose command of their landscape, tipping towards chaos: a choice that’s earned the film comparisons to Apocalypse Now. Landes’ depiction of group mentality and dynamics stings with the anxieties of adolescence; the desire to fit in; the significance placed on bonds of friendship.

Monos film

Blood and friendship lie at the centre of Saviano’s Piranhas novel too. Agostino seeks to build his paranza out of camaraderie and fellowship, the antithesis of mob families bound in blood: ‘the enemy of your enemy is your friend, aside from any issues of blood or relationships’ he thinks. By the end of the novel and Giovannesi’s film adaptation, Agostino will have learned the limitations of this thinking and experienced the pure, instinctive tug of family.

“Unlike the novel,” says Giovannesi, “what the film does is it focuses on the feelings and this huge sensitivity of the characters and that helps us see them not as criminals but as normal people that can be very close to us – our children, our brothers, our friends.” Tonally distinct, Piranhas and Monos close with shots that drive home their characters’ vulnerability and depth of feeling. For Landes, the film’s external conflict is a metaphor for the internal one beneath. “The conflict of adolescence and the actual conflict of war mirror each other,” he told Deadline.

What these films reveal is the perilous mixture of confidence and naivety that typify adolescence. By putting weapons in the hands of their young characters, Landes and Giovannesi amplify their chaotic energy; their ebullience; their impulsiveness. Crucially, the teenagers’ heedlessness and immaturity conflicts with the worldliness of the audience: will someone lose control? will there be an accident? The effect is near unbearable tension that reverberates longer and harder because it echoes a very real problem: that of youth knife crime. 

The young characters remain green and raw at the end of both films; they are not yet ‘adults’ but have instead ‘come of age’ by way of their actions. “When you make a choice of that sort,” to take up arms and enter a paranza, explains Giovannesi, “there is no way out.” The weapons in Monos and Piranhas are a dangerous and tragic extension of ordinary youth.

Read more London Film Coverage here. Don’t miss Monos in UK cinemas from Friday 25 October.

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London Film Festival: Earthquake Bird & Nocturnal #LFF2019

Nocturnal Cosmo Jarvis

More first look film reviews from this year’s BFI London Film Festival #LFF

Earthquake Bird Alicia Vikander Riley Keough Naoki Kobayashi

EARTHQUAKE BIRD

Writer-director Wash Westmoreland (Still Alice) adapts Susanna Jones’ lightweight crime novel about a female translator accused of murder in Japan. Lucy Fly (Alicia Vikander) has lived in Tokyo for five years. She’s composed, capable and taciturn. The victim is a hopeless newcomer, a flirty, wide-eyed American blonde (Riley Keough). Their uneasy friendship, complicated by Lucy’s mysterious boyfriend Teiji (Naoki Kobayashi), is the source of the film’s rising tension. It plays out in flashback from the police interrogation room.  

Westmoreland borrows this difficult structure from the novel. Yet, while Lucy’s memories feel like interruptions on the page (the desire to return to the interrogation always pressing) Westmoreland’s immersive storytelling drags us deep into the past. He neatly swerves the novel’s half-remembered, dreamy sexual encounters to provide a more grounded depiction of sexual obsession and jealousy. 

Alicia Vikander serves the material well with a performance that’s tantalisingly remote. She smoothes out Lucy’s hard edges – only occasionally is she piercing and indelicate – which opens up a chasm of ambiguity and doubt. Reserved, awkward body language reveals her vulnerability in sharp contrast with the physical ease and confidence of Keough’s Lily.

With a few structural tweaks, Westmoreland shifts the film towards a meditation on guilt and culpability. The classic ‘confession’ scene is used to land, not on who killed Lily, but on the genesis of Lucy’s current state of mind. 

As he attempts to move into more sophisticated territory, Westmoreland continues to nod to the classic crime genre. Lucy is translating a detective show; song lyrics allude to death and killing. Yet for all his thematic efforts, it is surprising that Westmoreland (who has a track record of female led projects including Still Alice and Colette) allows the novel’s emphasis on female oppression to languish in the background.           

With Earthquake Bird Westmoreland offers up a moody and superbly performed crime drama. His reimagining of this urban space is suitably atmospheric and he proves himself more than capable of building to a tension filled, climactic finale. Yet there remains a whiff of unfulfilled potential in the project which lacks the necessary substance to really take flight.     

Earthquake Bird is in selected cinemas from 8th November and on Netflix from 15th November 2019.

Nocturnal Cosmo Jarvis Lauren Coe

NOCTURNAL

This slow-burn debut reveals a striking new talent in writer-director Nathalie Biancheri. Her emotional drama, Nocturnal, traces an ambiguous relationship between a 16 year-old girl and an older man, Pete, played with intensity and sensitivity by rising star Cosmo Jarvis. 

Jarvis, who appeared in the 2016 film Lady Macbeth opposite a fierce Florence Pugh, has been compared to Matthias Schoenaerts of Rust and Bone and Bullhead. Watching Nocturnal, it’s easy to see why. His bulky, rugged physical presence masks a fragile self-image and a deep undercurrent of feeling that seeps out in practiced conversations and gentle tears.

Before long, teenage Laurie (Lauren Coe) is infatuated but Pete’s motivations remain mysterious. Biancheri’s near square aspect ratio (reminiscent of Andrea Arnold) pushes us into greater intimacy with the characters and Nocturnal quickly becomes a heady, emotionally fraught experience.     

Biancheri and co-writer Olivia Waring (Flora & Fauna) offer an interesting and original exploration of youthful indiscretions and their consequences; of love, family and intimacy. Both Laurie and Pete feel trapped in their lacklustre seaside town. In teasing out these threads Biancheri creates a compelling sense of place and a subtext that taps into modern concerns about social mobility and exclusion. 

You can find more coverage of the 2019 BFI London Film Festival here.

London Film Festival: Synchronic, Making Waves and Blackbird

This week, The Film Version is setting up at home at the BFI London Film Festival. I don’t usually focus on reviews here, but I wanted to share some of my first impressions with you. If you’ve been to #LFF, have seen the films elsewhere or are keen to see them soon, drop me a line in the comments.

SYNCHRONIC

Two paramedics treat victims of a legal high that has dangerous, supernatural effects in this gloomy, low-key horror from Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead (The Endless, Spring). From its first medical scene, Synchronic sets itself apart from the fast paced emergency rooms of medical dramas. There’s a lethargy to Dennis (Jamie Dornan) and Steve (Anthony Mackie) as they arrive at the home of an OD patient; a blasé reaction to a stab victim they find bleeding in the kitchen. Benson and Moorhead create a foggy, slowed-down, almost blurry impression of the scene as it unfolds. It’s an interesting style: one that reflects the film’s wider interest in time as a dimension of our existence.

Lifelong friends Dennis and Steve are both dissatisfied with their lives. Dennis has a teenage daughter he struggles to parent and a wife he no longer appreciates. Steve is still single. Late night drinking and one night stands bring him little joy. A plot twist gives Anthony Mackie something to work with here, but the self-obsessed Dennis provides a thankless role for Dornan. His persistent moaning feels unwarranted even before the film’s neat reality check.

Benson and Moorhead work hard to put modern life expectations in perspective by exploring the agonies of the past. They have ambitious and laudable aims here but the result feels thematically light, scratching the surface of something deeper. Nonetheless, the film is crammed with good ideas. The editing, for instance, is characterised by match and jump cuts that connect and divide time, disturbing our experience of reality. With its paramedics turned investigators, Synchronic reminiscent of The X-Files, a show it lovingly references. And, while the film’s science feels a little hokey, there’s enough going on here to make Synchronic solid, stylish entertainment.


MAKING WAVES: THE ART OF CINEMATIC SOUND

Cinema is an audio-visual medium but the amount of time and effort spent talking and thinking about sound work pails in comparison to the visual. It’s this imbalance that Midge Costin and Bobette Buster seek to redress in their informative and passionate documentary, Making Waves: The Art of Cinematic Sound

The film opens inside a womb with the idea that ‘we emerged into consciousness using only sound’. Sight, by comparison, is the last of our senses to develop. That sound is therefore a crucial and instinctive guide to the world around us, is quickly reinforced by Black Panther director, Ryan Coogler, and master of cinematic storytelling, Steven Spielberg.  

Making Waves is brimming with industry talent and sharp examples of the craft illustrate the role of sound in our interpretation of story. The opening to Saving Private Ryan, for instance, is used to illustrate how audio and visual can be used to tell two different stories. While the narrow frame of the image reveals a personal story, the battlefield sounds tell a larger contextual one.

From here Costin and Buster return to the silent film era, charting the development of sound work through mono and stereo to Dolby. Anchored by interviews with sound work innovators, from Ben Burtt (Star Wars) to Walter Murch (Apocalypse Now), Making Waves makes an excellent case for the power of cinematic sound. Simple graphics ensure this largely hidden field becomes accessible, comparing it to an orchestra with voice, sound effects and music sections.

The film’s dependence on big name talent – from George Lucas to David Lynch and John Lasseter – means film buffs will inevitably have heard some of the film’s anecdotes before. Even so, it’s an enjoyable journey and one that opens up a male dominated industry to female voices too. Interviews with Anna Behlmer (Braveheart) are particularly enlightening about gender stereotyping in the industry. 

 By the end of Making Waves, Costin and Buster leave audiences in no doubt about the importance of sound work not only to a film’s realism, but to emotion, imagination and plot. Making Waves is a glorious celebration of an under-appreciated art.

Making Waves: The Art of Cinematic Sound is on general release in the UK from 1 November 2019


BLACKBIRD

Death is a journey in Roger Michell’s Blackbird. Susan Sarandon is Lily, a terminally ill mother who reunites her family for one last weekend before her death. Based on Danish film The Silent Heart (both penned by Christian Torpe) the material attracts a star studded cast. Kate Winlset plays uptight daughter, Jennifer; Mia Wasikowska takes on her erratic, butterfly sister; and Sam Neill is the supporting husband who’s already tired of being treated like a widower. As Lily’s lifelong friend, Lindsay Duncan reunites with Michell following their successful collaboration on of Le Week-End. The performances are predictably top notch.

With an eclectic filmography that includes Notting Hill, Hyde Park On Hudson and My Cousin Rachel, Michell balances the heavy subject matter with finely-tuned comedy. Weepy moments are injected with familial awkwardness and, occasionally, angry outbursts. The family dynamic is compelling and the near chamber piece feel is at times reminiscent of John Wells’ August Osage County

Of all the tantalising roles here, Wasikowska’s is arguably the most interesting: her internal struggle offers a powerful counterpoint to that of the main protagonist, Lily. Beneath the surface, the film explores the strength needed to live and to die: the resilience needed to make the most difficult life choices. This strength comes, says Blackbird, from love. But it’s here where Michell stumbles, throwing his film slightly off kilter by building to a twist we’ve seen coming all along.

Look out for more #LFF first impressions here at The Film Version this weekend.

For The Love Of Lovecraft: Richard Stanley’s Color Out Of Space Adaptation

In H.P. Lovecraft’s weird tale, The Color Out Of Space, a meteor crashes into a remote farm. In the days that follow, the land becomes tainted by a strange colour, taste and smell. The family inhabiting it begin to go mad. Richard Stanley’s vivid and freakish adaptation of this eerie story screens at the 2019 BFI London Film Festival. 

Lovecraft’s story about the peculiar effects of a meteor crash is bursting with visual description, textures and sounds. At first glance, it’s a rich candidate for film adaptation. You can almost hear the ‘most detestably sticky noise’ infecting the land; almost see and feel the ‘brittleness and hollowness’ of the ‘glossy’ meteor. But Lovecraft’s vivid descriptions offer only comparison and similitudes for disturbing effects that exist entirely outside our frame of reference. ‘The colour which resembled some bands in the meteor’s strange spectrum, was almost impossible to describe; and it was only by analogy that they called it colour at all,’ writes Lovecraft. His stylistic choices highlight the limits of human knowledge and experience; the limits of our senses and language. Try imagining a new, undiscovered colour and you will appreciate the underlying challenges facing the filmmaker: how to physically present what can barely be imagined; how to make us see and hear what we are physically unable to perceive. Can visual reality ever live up to the terrifying ambiguity of Lovecraft’s figurative language? Could adapting his story be a doomed task? 

The challenge of turning imagination into reality – of manifesting fear which arises, ‘not because of anything that can be seen or heard or handled, but because of something that is imagined’ – would dissuade many filmmakers. But writer-director Richard Stanley (Hardware, Dust Devil) seizes the opportunity. Stanley’s Color Out Of Space is Lovecraft on acid: everything is amplified, stretched, exploded.

Lovecraft writes that ‘no sane wholesome colours were anywhere to be seen except in the green grass and leafage; but everywhere were those hectic and prismatic variants of some diseased, underlying primary tone without a place among the known tints of the earth’. Stanley’s inspired response is to suffuse the screen with an intense purple hue and a vibrating, kaleidoscopic iridescence. By the chaotic climax, this pigment pervades everything and, as the visuals blur and warp, the beautiful becomes nightmarish. 

One glance at the electric pink opening of Stanley’s debut – the now cult cyberpunk film about a genocidal robot and a post apocalyptic New York, Hardware (1990) – reveals he had the creative vision to take on Lovecraft all along. The saturated colours, atmospheric skies and disquieting, electronic score take the artistry in Hardware to the next level. Colin Stetson, the composer behind Hereditary, echoes the elongated, synthetic sound of Hardware while low, vibrating rumbles also embody the spirit of Lovecraft’s descriptions: ‘Things moved and changed and fluttered, and ears tingled to impulses which were not wholly sounds’. The film’s sound design is relentlessly unnerving. High pitched noises suggest the screaming of the meteor’s victims. Throaty animal sounds evoke something twisted and malformed.

While Lovecraft avoids labelling the menacing presence as ‘alien’, always maintaining an air of mystery, Stanley accepts that his audio-visual medium will inevitably show too much and opts for shock value instead. His film is weird in the extreme, overpowering in its sheer strangeness. The loss of Lovecraft’s creepy, past tense storytelling will likely be too much for some viewers, but the trade-off is extraordinary as Stanley sucks us into the rapid, cataclysmic present tense. Eerie recollections are replaced with nutty and repulsive body horror. The film’s slimy, squirming imagery is reminiscent of Eraserhead: mind-bending and introspective. While the plot leans rather too heavily into familiar horror beats, the atmosphere is so baffling it’s almost magnetic.     

Stanley adds to Lovecraft’s simple story a kooky sensibility. He updates the nineteenth century setting to the present day where it takes on the quality of a satire, poking fun at the middle classes who seek mindfulness in the rural landscape. How better to dramatise our essential fear of the outside (so prevalent in Lovecraft’s original story), than with affluent, low-key America whose idyllic existence is punctured and assaulted? Nicholas Cage is delightful as the unfulfilled patriarch of this picture-perfect family. His obsession with a herd of alpacas – the ‘animal of the future’ that was acquired at an exorbitant cost – provides a searing comic highlight. And, as the laughs add-up, Color Out Of Space begins to feel frenzied, jerking between tonal extremes.

Stanley’s interpretation of the material might be outlandish but a love of Lovecraft runs deeply through his picture. References to Hardware – ‘no flesh shall be spared’ is pasted on the teenage boy’s bedroom wall’ – go hand in hand with references to Lovecraft’s worlds. One character is seen reading Algernon Blackwood’s The Willows – a major influence on the author – while the book of black magic that appears in so many Lovecraft stories, the ‘Necronomicon’, plays a vital role in the film’s plot. Stanley infuses Color Out Of Space with witchcraft and pagan imagery, muddling it somewhat, but offering a deeply affectionate homage.

Color out of Space is that perfect blend of author and auteur. An unmistakable entry in the Stanley catalogue, it demands to be watched on the big screen. Even in its quietest moments, the film operates on a different wavelength to most in its genre. Those who let go and follow Stanley down his rabbit hole will enjoy Color Out Of Space immensely. The rest will be left asking, what on earth was that?

Color Out Of Space screens at the BFI London Film Festival on Monday 7th and Tuesday 8th October. See the full festival programme here.

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10 Film Adaptations to Watch at the BFI London Film Festival 2019 (LFF)

The 63rd BFI London Film Festival (LFF) features highly anticipated films from Noah Baumbach, Michael Winterbottom, Céline Sciamma, Robert Eggers and Marielle Heller (to name a few). It’s set to be a great year for original screenplays but there are some innovative and surprising adaptations lined up too: from Armando Iannucci’s The Personal History of David Copperfield to Václav Marhoul’s 35mm, black and white war drama, The Painted Bird. To help you find your way through this epic programme here’s my guide to the film adaptations screening at the festival between 2nd and 13th October and the novels that inspired them. If you’re waiting in long festival queues or grabbing a coffee between screenings, these are the books you need to have in your bag!

David Coperfield Film adaptation Dev Patel LFF

The Personal History of David Copperfield

Armando Iannucci’s adaptation of Charles Dickens’ immensely detailed novel is LFF’s opening night gala. Famed for his political satires (The Death of Stalin, In The Loop) and writing once again with long-time collaborator Simon Blackwell (Veep, The Thick Of It), Iannucci’s David Copperfield promises to be no ordinary costume drama. Dev Patel is cast as the titular hero in a refreshing move that flouts the conservative traditions of the genre. Speaking to Indiewire last year, Iannucci said: 

“I want it to feel real and present, even though it’s set in 1840 in London. I want it to feel immediate and current. And therefore I want the cast to be much more representative of what London looks like now, and I want a lot of the behaviour in the film to feel current and contemporary.”

 Worth a watch before the festival is Armando’s Tale of Charles Dickens, a one hour documentary made for the BBC in 2012. Here Iannucci explores the relevance of Dickens’ complex world, his humour and his darkness, in modern Britain. 

Waiting for Barbarians Johnny Depp Mark Rylance film adaptation LFF

Waiting for the Barbarians

This adaptation of J.M. Coetzee’s novel, Waiting For The Barbarians has one of the strongest casts at this year’s LFF. Starring Mark Rylance, Johnny Depp and Robert Pattinson, the film explores oppression in a fictional regime. Yet its story is increasingly relevant. Producer Andrea Iervolino told The Observer that Rylance, as The Magistrate, “plays someone who realises that the government was trying to scare the population by saying that ‘the barbarians are coming, bad people are coming, the invasion is coming’. Actually, the government was only instilling fear.” 

The screenplay is the first written by Coetzee himself and is directed by Ciro Guerra (Embrace Of The Serpent). 

Colour of outer space film adaptation

Color Out of Space

HP. Lovecraft’s short story about a strange meteor crash, The Colour Out of Space, has already been brought to the screen three times: in Daniel Haller’s Die, Monster, Die! (1965), Ivan Zuccon’s Colour From the Dark (2008) and Huan Vu’s German language film Die Farbe (2010). Now, Richard Stanley (Hardware, Dust Devil) revisits the story in what the LFF programmer Michael Blyth describes as “a thrilling combination of absorbing family drama and outré sci-fi madness”. According to Blyth its a “slick, stylish and suitably perverse interpretation of Lovecraft’s notoriously ‘unfilmable’ cosmic philosophies”. 

A trailer is not available yet but screenshots from the film are suffused with a swirling purple mist; a hypnotising, otherworldly, psychedelic glow. If you liked Jeff VanderMeer’s Annihilation or the 2018 film adaptation from Alex Garland, you should definitely give Color Out Of Space a look.

The Invisible Life of Eurídice Gusmão film adaptation LFF

The Invisible Life of Eurídice Gusmão

Eurídice is an unfulfilled housewife in 1940s Rio de Janeiro. When her sister returns after a failed elopement, the women try to escape their mundane lives. The adaptation of this debut novel from Martha Batalha won the Prix Un Certain Regard award at Cannes earlier this year. And the film’s critical acclaim onscreen seems set to eclipse the novel itself. Variety called it “high emotion articulated with utmost sincerity and heady stylistic excess,” while The Hollywood Reporter describes it as “a haunting drama that quietly celebrates the resilience of women even as they endure beaten-down existences”. 

Jojo Rabbit Taika Waititi film adaptation LFF

Jojo Rabbit

Taika Waititi’s controversial comedy-drama Jojo Rabbit has headline billing at the LFF. It’s based on the novel Caging Skies by Christine Leunens and follows a boy recruited into Hitler’s Youth. The novel has been celebrated for its emotional complexity but can Waititi, with his unique brand of zany comedy (What We Do In The Shadows, Hunt for the Wilderpeople), pull this off? We’ll have to wait and see. What we do know, is that Waititi has added the character of Hitler, who he plays as a figure in the boy’s imagination. Speaking to the Los Angeles Times, Waititi said: 

“To me, this movie feels like a cautionary tale… It’s not about something that happened all these years ago. It’s right on our doorstep now and we’re minutes away from this same [garbage] happening all over again.”

Jojo Rabbit promises to be the kind of radical adaptation that asks even more questions of its audience. Earlier this month it was reported that Disney, who acquired the film through the purchase of Fox Searchlight, could be worried that the film is “too edgy” and might “alienate Disney fans”. They just made it a must see.

The Painted Bird Film Adaptation LFF

The Painted Bird

Another tale about the Nazi occupation, The Painted Bird sees a young boy abandoned and alone wandering through Eastern Europe. The tonal opposite of Jojo Rabbit, director of festivals for the BFI, Tricia Tuttle describes the film adaptation as:

“rarely an easy watch, with scenes some will find distressing. A terrifying and highly relevant exploration of what humanity looks like when there is only vicious survival, with little space for compassion.”

 Written by Jerzy Kosinski in 1965, The Painted Bird was well received on its release but became mired in controversy in the 1980s when it was revealed that the literary account was not autobiographical (as had been believed) but fictional. Kosinski’s novel, Being There, had also been cribbed from another writer. Nevertheless, Kosinski’s work has a strong pedigree on screen. Being There took home an Oscar nomination and a win in 1980. “Shot in starkly beautiful 35mm black and white by Kolya cinematographer Vladimír Smutný,” says Tuttle, “The Painted Bird’s textures recall both the crispness of The Bicycle Thief and squalor of Aleksei German’s Hard to be a God.” The innovative trailer radiates horror, set almost entirely to the sound of heavy, rapid breathing. 

Earthquake Bird film adaptation LFF

Earthquake Bird

This murder mystery thriller starring Alicia Vikander is set to hit Netflix in November. LFF offers a rare opportunity to catch it on the big screen. 

Vikander plays Lucy Fly, an English woman in Tokyo accused of murder. In their review of the novel, The Telegraph says, with much relish, that Lucy “displays a self-sufficiency, a disregard for whether or not she is being amiable, which is death by a hundred snubs”. It will be interesting to see how the adaptation handles this strong first person narrator. Festival programmer, Kate Taylor, bills it as “a moody and intriguing update on 1980s psycho-sexual thrillers, shifting the emphasis onto the psychology of the female protagonist”. The film comes from Wash Westmoreland, the writer-director behind the female driven films Still Alice and Colette.

Piranhas film adaptation LFF

Piranhas

Gomorrah, a startling account of the Neoplitan mafia and the first book from investigative journalist Roberto Saviano, was adapted into an award winning film in 2008 and a television series in 2014. Now The Piranhas, Saviano’s novel about child gangs in Naples, comes to LFF. It’s directed by Claudio Giovannesi (Fiore, Alì Blue Eyes) with a screenplay written in collaboration with Maurizio Braucci (Gomorrah) and Saviano himself. 

Piranhas took home the Silver Bear for best screenplay at Berlinale where it also received a best film nomination for the Golden Bear. At LFF, it’s billed as “a teenage Scarface meets Romeo and Juliet”. And if that doesn’t make you want to see it, I don’t know what will.  

Martin Eden film adaptation LFF

Martin Eden

American writer Jack London is most famous for his novel The Call of the Wild. But Martin Eden, written just three years later in 1909, is said to be his most autobiographical. Martin struggles to rise out of poverty, through the class system, to be recognised as a member of the literary establishment. 

This is the first time Martin Eden has been adapted for the big screen and the action is transplanted to Naples in this Italian production (it’s the second film written by Piranhas’ Maurizio Braucci screening at the festival). 

Chief executive of Film London, Adam Wootton describes how the adaptation, “mixes drama with archive footage to create a unique fable that demonstrates the imaginative vision and creative skill of director Pietro Marcello”. Marcello’s 2015 film Lost and Beautiful featured in Indiewire’s critic poll of the top ten best undistributed films.  

The Bears' Famous Invasion film adaptation LFF

The Bears’ Famous Invasion

This animation, based on the Italian children’s book The Bears’ Famous Invasion of Sicily by Dino Buzzati, comes from the producers of The Red Turtle (2016). It’s directed by Italian illustrator Lorenzo Mattotti whose bright, clean 2D animation has a trace of nostalgia that befits the 1945 classic book.

Back then, Buzzati told a story of starving bears battling with humans before adopting human traits themselves. No surprise then, that it’s been likened to George Orwell’s Animal Farm. Retold in 2019 however, it could be the kind of film that sparks fierce debate. For instance, Jay Weissberg for Variety has already argued that: “The revised storyline… about how bears and humans clash, make amends, and then realize they’re too different to live together, can lead to unfortunate and inadvertent interpretations neither Mattotti nor the original author Dino Buzzati intended”.

Days of the Bagnold Summer film adaptation LFF

Also Screening…

Adaptations of the graphic novel Days of the Bagnold Summer (starring Rob Brydon and Tamsin Grieg) and the play Luce (starring Naomi Watts, Octavia Spencer and Tim Roth) are also screening at this year’s LFF. Foreign language adaptations of Laurence Olivier’s novel Ghost Town Anthology, Colin Niel’s Only The Animals and Anna Woltz’s My Extraordinary Summer With Tess should be on your radar too. Unfortunately, however, these novels aren’t currently available in English translations. And finally, this year’s closing night gala is Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman adapted from Charles Brandt’s true-crime biography I Heard You Paint Houses. The film has already set Twitter on fire with news of its three-and-a-half hour run time.

*The full LFF 2019 programme is available here.

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