I happened to be at Chalk Farm tube yesterday, waiting for a train. As a bus user, I’m always curious to see what kind of ad campaigns studios are running on the underground for their current releases. At the moment, as a right-thinking film fan, you might be in a state of near-priapic delight at the wealth of prestige movies in cinemas. There’s posters up for The Wrestler, Slumdog Millionaire, The Reader, Milk and Frost/Nixon, breathlessly described with attention-grabbing quotes like “the feel-good film of the decade”, or “a contender for Best Picture”. It is, of course, January, and rather shamelessly the studios are chucking out their high-calibre movies as we pile headlong into Awards season.
Is it weird to like a record even though it reminds you, however faintly, of something you never liked very much? I only ask because I've been playing this new Iron & Wine record quite a lot this past couple of weeks.
There's a dark rumble to Massive Attack's instrumental score for this Luc Besson-produced martial arts movie, arranged by Robert Del Naja and Neil Davidge in 21 miniature sequences. Many of these are a minute or so long, so it's hard to cite them as anything special, and the nagging feeling persists that there's been an element of smoke and mirrors about this outfit's fashionable misery since their heyday. Those pieces that are allowed time to breathe suggest greater depths, like "One Thought At A Time", which clocks in at a whopping four minutes plus.
Timely reminder, in the midst of all the Kill Bill hyperbole, of true balls-to-the-wall Tarantino talent—that sickly mint-green warehouse, those black suits, that red blood, the infectious music, the terrifying Hawksian machismo and, mostly, that dialogue: witty and crude, poignant and allusive, naturalistic and downright poetic. Nothing less than genius.
