by Tony Dayoub
Top of the Lake wrapped up with a special 2-hour airing of its final two episodes last week. And you may be asking why it's taken so long for me to post a recap. I apologize, but I wanted to give everyone a chance to see the series finale before I speak about some of the show's revelations freely. More importantly, I wanted to re-watch Top of the Lake in its entirety in order to gain better perspective on what I discovered was its excellent, airtight construction. So if you haven't watched the series conclusion yet, read no further as this is the final spoiler warning I'll offer.
Showing posts with label Peter Mullan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Peter Mullan. Show all posts
Monday, April 22, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
TV Review: Top of the Lake Episode 5
by Tony Dayoub
The Sundance Channel has wisely decided to wrap up Top of the Lake next week, airing its last two episodes on Monday night. Hopefully, this might stave off some of that Are-we-there-yet feeling which creeped into this week's episode. I've championed the series so far, despite criticism from some quarters that the mystery has been too drawn out. After all, the point is hardly the puzzle concerning the missing Tui Mitcham (Jacqueline Joe). When pressed, I'm sure even the most naïve viewer could tell you beat for beat the way in which Top of the Lake's plot will unfold. What makes a show such as this so rewarding is the unique alchemy between the cast of characters populating Laketop, Paradise, and the police force investigating Tui's disappearance, which we find out in this episode occurred two months ago. Perhaps that story point explains why this episode felt so static, not just from a story standpoint but in terms of exploring the central characters.
The Sundance Channel has wisely decided to wrap up Top of the Lake next week, airing its last two episodes on Monday night. Hopefully, this might stave off some of that Are-we-there-yet feeling which creeped into this week's episode. I've championed the series so far, despite criticism from some quarters that the mystery has been too drawn out. After all, the point is hardly the puzzle concerning the missing Tui Mitcham (Jacqueline Joe). When pressed, I'm sure even the most naïve viewer could tell you beat for beat the way in which Top of the Lake's plot will unfold. What makes a show such as this so rewarding is the unique alchemy between the cast of characters populating Laketop, Paradise, and the police force investigating Tui's disappearance, which we find out in this episode occurred two months ago. Perhaps that story point explains why this episode felt so static, not just from a story standpoint but in terms of exploring the central characters.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
TV Review: Top of the Lake Episode 4 - Triggering History
by Tony Dayoub
A conventional noir begins to take shape in this week's episode of Top of the Lake. It's a hallmark of such detective thrillers that the very thing that makes their heroes strong enough to have unique insight into the central mystery is often their Achilles' heel. Detective Robin Griffin (Elisabeth Moss) seems less in control of than ensnared by the web of deceit surrounding pregnant 12-year-old Tui Mitcham's disappearance from the small town of Laketop. Al Parker (David Wenham) correctly diagnoses Robin when he judges her as too close to the case because of her personal history, specifically the rape she survived in her teenage years.
A conventional noir begins to take shape in this week's episode of Top of the Lake. It's a hallmark of such detective thrillers that the very thing that makes their heroes strong enough to have unique insight into the central mystery is often their Achilles' heel. Detective Robin Griffin (Elisabeth Moss) seems less in control of than ensnared by the web of deceit surrounding pregnant 12-year-old Tui Mitcham's disappearance from the small town of Laketop. Al Parker (David Wenham) correctly diagnoses Robin when he judges her as too close to the case because of her personal history, specifically the rape she survived in her teenage years.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
TV Review: Top of the Lake Episode 3 - The Secret Inside
by Tony Dayoub
There were few if any major developments in this week's installment of Top of the Lake. And if some of the reactions to my review last week are any indication, this may not bode well for the show's popularity. Television has trained viewers to expect a continuing series of escalating revelations. But few realize that these manipulative hooks are contrivances. Fortunately, Top of the Lake is a closed miniseries with no need to solicit an audience in order to get renewed for another season. It's unfolding at just the right pace, with even more disregard for the MacGuffin at its center—the disappearance of Tui Mitcham—than its predecessor Twin Peaks had for the solution to its question of who killed Laura Palmer. Top of the Lake realizes that its central puzzle is simply an excuse to delve into the mysteries that define its characters. And this week's episode makes the most of it.
There were few if any major developments in this week's installment of Top of the Lake. And if some of the reactions to my review last week are any indication, this may not bode well for the show's popularity. Television has trained viewers to expect a continuing series of escalating revelations. But few realize that these manipulative hooks are contrivances. Fortunately, Top of the Lake is a closed miniseries with no need to solicit an audience in order to get renewed for another season. It's unfolding at just the right pace, with even more disregard for the MacGuffin at its center—the disappearance of Tui Mitcham—than its predecessor Twin Peaks had for the solution to its question of who killed Laura Palmer. Top of the Lake realizes that its central puzzle is simply an excuse to delve into the mysteries that define its characters. And this week's episode makes the most of it.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Where is Tui?
by Tony Dayoub
It's that time of year just before the summer blockbuster season when I find it hard to get my butt into a theater seat. For every surprise like The We and the I (which has, unfortunately, yet to open around the country) you get two entirely predictable movies like Olympus Has Fallen (opening Friday) or Oz: The Great and Powerful, a film so dull I can't even think of what to write about it. So it's not unusual that some promising television series start appearing during this lull to take advantage of the open playing field. Game of Thrones and Mad Men, two outstanding cable shows, return in a few weeks. David Mamet's Phil Spector, starring Al Pacino and Helen Mirren, debuts this weekend on HBO. And now the Sundance Channel has realized the virtues of airing their own scripted original programming starting with Top of the Lake, a 7-episode miniseries created by Jane Campion and Gerard Lee (who last collaborated on 1989's Sweetie).
It's that time of year just before the summer blockbuster season when I find it hard to get my butt into a theater seat. For every surprise like The We and the I (which has, unfortunately, yet to open around the country) you get two entirely predictable movies like Olympus Has Fallen (opening Friday) or Oz: The Great and Powerful, a film so dull I can't even think of what to write about it. So it's not unusual that some promising television series start appearing during this lull to take advantage of the open playing field. Game of Thrones and Mad Men, two outstanding cable shows, return in a few weeks. David Mamet's Phil Spector, starring Al Pacino and Helen Mirren, debuts this weekend on HBO. And now the Sundance Channel has realized the virtues of airing their own scripted original programming starting with Top of the Lake, a 7-episode miniseries created by Jane Campion and Gerard Lee (who last collaborated on 1989's Sweetie).
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Movie Review: Red Riding: 1983 (2009)
by Tony Dayoub
The weight of the past hangs heavily on top cop Maurice Jobson (David Morrisey). For years he has carried the guilt over his involvement with the renegade cops of the West Yorkshire Constabulary and their preference of expediency over thoroughness in the child abduction case of 1974. Now, with the case closed and the perpetrator in prison, another series of abductions (too similar to be pinned on a copycat) begins. And it is too much for this compromised public servant to bear.
Anand Tucker (Leap Year) presents the events of Red Riding: 1983 like a memory play. Impressionistic in its photography, elliptical in its explanations, and nonlinear in its chronology, this entry in the trilogy is the spiritual chapter after the visceral action of 1974 and the intellectual exposition of 1980. Apropos of its approach, it nominates three characters to form a sort of mystical trinity to shepherd the triptych to its conclusion.
Seeing as 1974's viewpoint is that of a reporter, and 1980's belongs to a cop, it would be easy to pin the perspective for 1983 on the attorney who brings us into this story, John Piggott (Mark Addy). But the complex storyline is as thorny in its telling as it is internally. One of the other unlikely heroes is the street hustling B.J. (Robert Sheehan), who seeks redemption for his silence about the abductions so far. The third participant in this trinity is Jobson, sidelined for the previous two parts but roused into action by an unlikely romance with an unusual oracle (Saskia Reeves).
The shifting narrative devices and protagonists serve to add ambiguity and a feeling of displacement in the viewer. The dislocation created by the unusual structure forces one to be less concerned with the procedural aspects so central to the last part, and instead hone in on the moral ramifications of Jobson's inaction, B.J.'s silence, and Piggott's deliberate ignorance. One becomes attuned to the state of mind of these three players as they each pursue the killer, and their repective redemption, in their own way.
The greatest compliment one can give to Tucker and Red Riding: 1983 is that after it is over one wants to see the trilogy all over again, not simply to figure out how all the pieces fit together, but to wallow in the dark atmosphere of this long-form piece of cinema one rarely experiences anymore.
Red Riding: 1983 is playing as part of the Red Riding: Special Roadshow Edition, today through February 11th exclusively at the IFC Center, 323 Sixth Avenue at West Third Street, New York, NY 10014, (212) 924-7771
It will also play February 14th, 17th, and 18th, at Landmark's Nuart Theatre, 11272 Santa Monica Boulevard, West Los Angeles, CA 90025,
(310) 281-8223.
It opens in select theaters nationwide on February 19th.
Click here for more posts on Red Riding.
The weight of the past hangs heavily on top cop Maurice Jobson (David Morrisey). For years he has carried the guilt over his involvement with the renegade cops of the West Yorkshire Constabulary and their preference of expediency over thoroughness in the child abduction case of 1974. Now, with the case closed and the perpetrator in prison, another series of abductions (too similar to be pinned on a copycat) begins. And it is too much for this compromised public servant to bear.
Anand Tucker (Leap Year) presents the events of Red Riding: 1983 like a memory play. Impressionistic in its photography, elliptical in its explanations, and nonlinear in its chronology, this entry in the trilogy is the spiritual chapter after the visceral action of 1974 and the intellectual exposition of 1980. Apropos of its approach, it nominates three characters to form a sort of mystical trinity to shepherd the triptych to its conclusion.
Seeing as 1974's viewpoint is that of a reporter, and 1980's belongs to a cop, it would be easy to pin the perspective for 1983 on the attorney who brings us into this story, John Piggott (Mark Addy). But the complex storyline is as thorny in its telling as it is internally. One of the other unlikely heroes is the street hustling B.J. (Robert Sheehan), who seeks redemption for his silence about the abductions so far. The third participant in this trinity is Jobson, sidelined for the previous two parts but roused into action by an unlikely romance with an unusual oracle (Saskia Reeves).
The shifting narrative devices and protagonists serve to add ambiguity and a feeling of displacement in the viewer. The dislocation created by the unusual structure forces one to be less concerned with the procedural aspects so central to the last part, and instead hone in on the moral ramifications of Jobson's inaction, B.J.'s silence, and Piggott's deliberate ignorance. One becomes attuned to the state of mind of these three players as they each pursue the killer, and their repective redemption, in their own way.
The greatest compliment one can give to Tucker and Red Riding: 1983 is that after it is over one wants to see the trilogy all over again, not simply to figure out how all the pieces fit together, but to wallow in the dark atmosphere of this long-form piece of cinema one rarely experiences anymore.
Red Riding: 1983 is playing as part of the Red Riding: Special Roadshow Edition, today through February 11th exclusively at the IFC Center, 323 Sixth Avenue at West Third Street, New York, NY 10014, (212) 924-7771
It will also play February 14th, 17th, and 18th, at Landmark's Nuart Theatre, 11272 Santa Monica Boulevard, West Los Angeles, CA 90025,
(310) 281-8223.
It opens in select theaters nationwide on February 19th.
Click here for more posts on Red Riding.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Movie Review: Red Riding: 1980 (2009)
by Tony Dayoub
Red Riding: 1980 begins more than five years after the last film. Reporter Eddie Dunford is dead. Builder John Dawson is dead. Paula Garland is dead. Crooked cop Bob Craven (Sean Harris) is now a detective. Chief Bill Molloy (Warren Clarke) is buckling under the pressure of a new set of serial murders terrorizing Yorkshire. And top cop Maurice Jobson (David Morrisey) still sits on the periphery of the action, ever watchful yet decidely unhelpful.
Into this tense atmosphere comes Peter Hunter (Paddy Considine), a dedicated officer assigned to re-investigate the unsolved Yorkshire Ripper case currently bedeviling Molloy. As cocky as Dunford was in his approach, Hunter is respectful, earnest. Yet even though the story perspective has shifted from that of a reporter to that of a cop, Hunter is just as much an outsider as Dunford was. And he's got problematic baggage, too—a needy wife whose miscarriage some time ago forced him to leave the Ripper case once already, and also led him into the arms of a fellow cop, Helen Marshall (Maxine Peake).
One also begins to sense there's something sinister about the Reverend Martin Laws (Peter Mullan), not entirely helpful in the last film's investigation, but Johnny-on-the-spot in this investigation. He provides a shoulder to cry on for Helen. But more importantly, he manages to deliver a confidential informant named B.J. (Robert Sheehan) to Hunter. B.J.'s information leads Hunter away from the Ripper killings and to the Karachi shooting that proves so pivotal in the previous film.
This is the weakest entry to the series because of its expository nature. That being said, it is a fine procedural with an instructive look into the cop culture of the West Yorkshire Constabulary. It is also a savage indictment of the insular culture of a small town and its police department. Hunter uncovers a shadow police force within the department, one whose motto is, "The North, where we do what we want." Though the Ripper case recedes into the background, it soon becomes clear that it is a reminder to the dirty cops of the earlier set of serial murders. It is also the impetus for Hunter's inquiry into the Karachi shooting, a key building block in the cops' conspiratorial act, without which the crooked detectives' silence starts to crumble.
A lot of what one learns in 1980 revolves around the notion that Hunter's honorable and lawful methods serve him no better in his attempt to stand up to corruption than Dunford's foolhardy stunts did. It's a bit obvious, which contributes to the familiarity of this chapter in the trilogy. But pieces are coming together, and as a second act this film is more than suitable in propelling the viewer to the third and final chapter of Red Riding.
Red Riding: 1980 is playing as part of the Red Riding: Special Roadshow Edition, today through February 11th exclusively at the IFC Center, 323 Sixth Avenue at West Third Street, New York, NY 10014, (212) 924-7771
It will also play February 13th, 14th, 16th and 18th, at Landmark's Nuart Theatre, 11272 Santa Monica Boulevard, West Los Angeles, CA 90025,
(310) 281-8223.
It opens in select theaters nationwide on February 19th.
Click here for more posts on Red Riding.
Red Riding: 1980 begins more than five years after the last film. Reporter Eddie Dunford is dead. Builder John Dawson is dead. Paula Garland is dead. Crooked cop Bob Craven (Sean Harris) is now a detective. Chief Bill Molloy (Warren Clarke) is buckling under the pressure of a new set of serial murders terrorizing Yorkshire. And top cop Maurice Jobson (David Morrisey) still sits on the periphery of the action, ever watchful yet decidely unhelpful.
Into this tense atmosphere comes Peter Hunter (Paddy Considine), a dedicated officer assigned to re-investigate the unsolved Yorkshire Ripper case currently bedeviling Molloy. As cocky as Dunford was in his approach, Hunter is respectful, earnest. Yet even though the story perspective has shifted from that of a reporter to that of a cop, Hunter is just as much an outsider as Dunford was. And he's got problematic baggage, too—a needy wife whose miscarriage some time ago forced him to leave the Ripper case once already, and also led him into the arms of a fellow cop, Helen Marshall (Maxine Peake).
One also begins to sense there's something sinister about the Reverend Martin Laws (Peter Mullan), not entirely helpful in the last film's investigation, but Johnny-on-the-spot in this investigation. He provides a shoulder to cry on for Helen. But more importantly, he manages to deliver a confidential informant named B.J. (Robert Sheehan) to Hunter. B.J.'s information leads Hunter away from the Ripper killings and to the Karachi shooting that proves so pivotal in the previous film.
This is the weakest entry to the series because of its expository nature. That being said, it is a fine procedural with an instructive look into the cop culture of the West Yorkshire Constabulary. It is also a savage indictment of the insular culture of a small town and its police department. Hunter uncovers a shadow police force within the department, one whose motto is, "The North, where we do what we want." Though the Ripper case recedes into the background, it soon becomes clear that it is a reminder to the dirty cops of the earlier set of serial murders. It is also the impetus for Hunter's inquiry into the Karachi shooting, a key building block in the cops' conspiratorial act, without which the crooked detectives' silence starts to crumble.
A lot of what one learns in 1980 revolves around the notion that Hunter's honorable and lawful methods serve him no better in his attempt to stand up to corruption than Dunford's foolhardy stunts did. It's a bit obvious, which contributes to the familiarity of this chapter in the trilogy. But pieces are coming together, and as a second act this film is more than suitable in propelling the viewer to the third and final chapter of Red Riding.
Red Riding: 1980 is playing as part of the Red Riding: Special Roadshow Edition, today through February 11th exclusively at the IFC Center, 323 Sixth Avenue at West Third Street, New York, NY 10014, (212) 924-7771
It will also play February 13th, 14th, 16th and 18th, at Landmark's Nuart Theatre, 11272 Santa Monica Boulevard, West Los Angeles, CA 90025,
(310) 281-8223.
It opens in select theaters nationwide on February 19th.
Click here for more posts on Red Riding.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Movie Review: Red Riding: 1974 (2009)
by Tony Dayoub
Red Riding: 1974 only seems like a bracing return to the dark British crime thrillers of the seventies like Mike Hodges' Get Carter
(1971), or the serial killer genre explored in The Silence of the Lambs
(1991). A more accurate touchstone would probably be such disparate films as Straw Dogs
(1971) or The Conversation
(1974). From the former, it derives the outsider's perspective when obstructed by small-town provincial attitudes. From the latter, it borrows the sinking feeling of a protagonist so forcefully assailed by corrupt forces he may end up stained—or worse—from the experience.
Director Julian Jarrold (Brideshead Revisited
) sets the trilogy in impressive motion with a murkily-lit look at a series of murders involving young girls in Northern England. The perspective on the case belongs to Eddie Dunford (Andrew Garfield), a cocky reporter who strides onto the relatively close-minded Yorkshire scene with little regard for the locals. A southerner, Eddie never quite meshes with his fellow reporters, the local constabulary, or even the families of the victims or witnesses involved in the case. The one person Eddie does seem to have most in common with is the slimy sophisticate, John Dawson (Sean Bean), a millionaire who pays off the local police force to keep his empty lot free of gypsy settlers as he prepares to start construction on a mall.
Eddie and John's tenuous link is their remove from the backwater environs with its unrefined denizens. That and Paula Garland (Rebecca Hall), a mother of one of the victims who is sleeping with each of them. Like Dustin Hoffman's David Sumner in Straw Dogs, Eddie is overconfident, believing he's got the Yorkshire folks all figured out, or even that he's one step ahead of them. But like Sumner, he is out of his element when facing the local bullies, in this case crooked cops like Bob Craven (Sean Harris), a bully who always proves most threatening when attacking Eddie's masculinity. The primary difference between him and John is the builder's willingness to play by the rules of this berg, a place where he doesn't belong any more than Eddie does.
On this level, the film is evocative of the seventies conspiracy thrillers like The Conversation. Eddie Dunford navigates through the filthy intricacies of the serial murder case, slowly finding connections to the cops, their benefactor John Dawson, and even his own newspaper. Like Gene Hackman's Harry Caul, Eddie believes his integrity gives him a slight edge over all of those he encounters, a professional distance if you will, one which he thinks will protect him against the depravity all around him. He blows off John's attempts to buy him off because he is self-assured in his notion that he is uncorruptible. It is only when John callously sics the dirty cops on Paula that Eddie realizes how mired he is in the wrong side of Yorkshire's demoralizing microcosm.
In look and feel, Red Riding: 1974 resembles another recent period film which examines a serial killer through the eyes of a reporter. That would be Fincher's Zodiac
(2007). And though it quite doesn't achieve that film's multi-leveled complexity, it does make for an interesting first chapter in what could be classified as a time-lapse look at a small city oppressed by its own sinfulness. Those expecting a typical serial killer exercise may be pleasantly surprised. Red Riding: 1974's lurid serial killings are only a hook to draw viewers into its penetrating exploration of into the nature of venality.
Red Riding: 1974 is playing as part of the Red Riding: Special Roadshow Edition, today through February 11th exclusively at the IFC Center, 323 Sixth Avenue at West Third Street, New York, NY 10014, (212) 924-7771
It will also play February 12 - 14th and February 18th, at Landmark's Nuart Theatre, 11272 Santa Monica Boulevard, West Los Angeles, CA 90025,
(310) 281-8223.
It opens in select theaters nationwide on February 19th.
Click here for more posts on Red Riding.
Red Riding: 1974 only seems like a bracing return to the dark British crime thrillers of the seventies like Mike Hodges' Get Carter
Director Julian Jarrold (Brideshead Revisited
Eddie and John's tenuous link is their remove from the backwater environs with its unrefined denizens. That and Paula Garland (Rebecca Hall), a mother of one of the victims who is sleeping with each of them. Like Dustin Hoffman's David Sumner in Straw Dogs, Eddie is overconfident, believing he's got the Yorkshire folks all figured out, or even that he's one step ahead of them. But like Sumner, he is out of his element when facing the local bullies, in this case crooked cops like Bob Craven (Sean Harris), a bully who always proves most threatening when attacking Eddie's masculinity. The primary difference between him and John is the builder's willingness to play by the rules of this berg, a place where he doesn't belong any more than Eddie does.
On this level, the film is evocative of the seventies conspiracy thrillers like The Conversation. Eddie Dunford navigates through the filthy intricacies of the serial murder case, slowly finding connections to the cops, their benefactor John Dawson, and even his own newspaper. Like Gene Hackman's Harry Caul, Eddie believes his integrity gives him a slight edge over all of those he encounters, a professional distance if you will, one which he thinks will protect him against the depravity all around him. He blows off John's attempts to buy him off because he is self-assured in his notion that he is uncorruptible. It is only when John callously sics the dirty cops on Paula that Eddie realizes how mired he is in the wrong side of Yorkshire's demoralizing microcosm.
In look and feel, Red Riding: 1974 resembles another recent period film which examines a serial killer through the eyes of a reporter. That would be Fincher's Zodiac
Red Riding: 1974 is playing as part of the Red Riding: Special Roadshow Edition, today through February 11th exclusively at the IFC Center, 323 Sixth Avenue at West Third Street, New York, NY 10014, (212) 924-7771
It will also play February 12 - 14th and February 18th, at Landmark's Nuart Theatre, 11272 Santa Monica Boulevard, West Los Angeles, CA 90025,
(310) 281-8223.
It opens in select theaters nationwide on February 19th.
Click here for more posts on Red Riding.
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