Ralph Fiennes’ adaptation of Coriolanus has been dubbed “muscular” but all the upper body strength in the world doesn’t quite compensate for the skinny legs that buckle just shy of the climax. The film starts promisingly enough transplanting Rome to the Balkans in an exciting montage of grainy news footage inter-cut with some “Commando” style knife sharpening. IIan Eshkeri’s driving score pursues a single agitator as she joins fellow conspirators plotting a general’s death shot crisply by cinematographer Barry Ackroyd.
That general is Caius Martius, utterly ruthless and dedicated to marshal service. He has no time for civilians or cowards although to Martus they are both sides of the same bad coin. He wins the title of Coriolanus and the chance of a (unwanted) political career in a bullet-torn battle against his nemesis Aufidius, played by Gerard Butler clearly relishing his bloody role alongside the heavyweight support of Brian Cox as the vivacious Menenius and Vanessa Redgrave as Coriolanus’ slightly incestuous mother Volumnia.
The brilliance of Fiennes’ performance of Coriolanus is his barely concealed hatred for everything not militaristic so when he finally flips his lid at the mob, “I banish you!” his freedom from pretence is tangible. Out manoeuvred by real politicians his exile turns him into a shadowy Colonel Kurtz figure bald and foreboding. Coriolanus’ plight is certainly relevant today with the failure of military men when asked to act as political leaders in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Sadly Coriolanus’ downfall as a film is one of its own making. Fiennes’ inclusion of the early action scenes although very well directed only succeeds in unbalancing his debut. We expect more of the same when Coriolanus joins forces with Aufidius to invade Rome. Instead we get a quick montage of stock footage that makes the final act seem rushed and cruelly highlights the film’s modest budget despite its stellar performances. Perhaps the film would have worked better without any action sequences at all. That said, Fiennes’ career as a director should be watched with interest.
Another adaptation causing quite a stir is Lynne Ramsay’s third film, We Need To Talk About Kevin. Based on Lionel Shriver’s 2003 novel about a woman, Eva rebuilding her life after a horrendous crime committed by her son. To Eva, Kevin is a nightmare from birth: as a baby his screaming is so relentless that only a road drill can offer her a few seconds of respite. As a toddler Kevin won’t conform to Eva’s developmental timetable causing her in turns frustration, bewilderment, anxiety and hatred. As a teenager Kevin is positively Oedipal.
Eva is sick of being the bad guy as Kevin divides and conquers his parents. His father, the affable Franklin, forgives Kevin’s every misdemeanour much to Eva’s chagrin. At best Franklin thinks Eva exaggerates the evils of motherhood and at worst she is dangerously paranoid. The androgynous Kevin may bond over archery and video games with his dad but he has more in common with his mother than Eva would like to believe. Their resemblance is striking–human reptiles soaking up their mutual dislike of one another. Eva is often shown as unloving, cold with a bitter sense of humour. Is it really all Kevin’s fault?
Ramsay’s film is mesmerising. Her dreamlike narrative blends and bends time back and forth between Eva’s upper middle class life of luxury and her drab present day existence. Eva herself is never fully present. Every other waking moment is dominated by her Tarkovskian memories that will unlock a final devastating tragedy. This fragmented structure creates a creeping sense of unease and a masterful feeling of suspense felt in the best films of Lynch or Polanski.
We Need To Talk About Kevin conjures images of The Shining and Rosemary’s Baby and the fear of an infant impacting on or just plain getting in the way adults’ artistic ambitions. Casting Tilda Swinton as Eva is inspired and John C Reilly as Franklin is brilliantly counter-intuitive but Ezra Miller pushes the nature/nurture argument to the limit with his astonishing portrayal of Kevin as Greek demi-god.
Austrian director Karl Markovics’ quietly absorbing Breathing also features a troubled teen, Roman, who has far less vaulting ambitions than Kevin. 19-year-old Roman has been in institutions all his life, abandoned in an orphanage by his mother and then incarcerated in a young offenders institution after an act of violence. He is slowly being rehabilitated by working through a day release scheme for a mortuary picking up the deceased.
Roman is disconnected and uncertain but through connecting with the dead in a dignified manner, the gradual understanding of his older colleagues and tracking down his mother, he begins to make sense of his place in the world. The scene where Roman helps prepare the body of an elderly lady is a pivotal moment in his rehabilitation not just as a young offender but also as a human being is beautiful, touching and elevated by the delicate use of an exquisite score. The final shot of Breathing is a graceful crane up to the sky which tells the rest and marks Markovics as a director to watch.