Tag Archives: American cinema

Classic Film Review: Matewan (1987)

Classic Film Review: Matewan (1987)

Directed by John Sayles

Written by John Sayles

Produced by Peggy Rajski and Maggie Renzi

Main Cast: Chris Cooper, James Earl Jones, Mary McDonnell, Will Oldham, David Strathairn, Kevin Tighe, Gordon Clapp, Bob Gunton, etc.

Cinematography by Haskell Wexler

** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS **



For me, John Sayles represents almost everything that is admirable about independent filmmaking and is quite simply a phenomenal screenwriter. His best scripts never feel mechanically constructed. They breathe. Characters wander into scenes carrying entire histories with them, and seemingly casual conversations reveal class, politics, relationships, disappointments and decades of buried resentment. Films such as the magnificent, Matewan (1987), Passion Fish (1992), Eight Men Out (1988) and impressive, Lone Star (1996) demonstrate just how sophisticated his writing can be, yet there is rarely anything flashy or self-conscious about it.

Moreover, I also love the sheer pragmatism of the career he built. Sayles understood that being an independent filmmaker didn’t mean pretending Hollywood didn’t exist. He started out writing wonderfully entertaining low-budget genre pictures for Roger Corman — Piranha (1978), The Lady in Red (1979), Alligator (1980) and Battle Beyond the Stars (1980) among them — and went on to become a successful screenwriter and highly regarded script doctor on much bigger Hollywood productions. He could take the money and experience from those assignments and then return to the films that really mattered to him. Rather than waiting for the industry to give him permission to make his movies, he found a way of financing and sustaining them himself.

And perhaps that is why I find Sayles so inspiring. The Hollywood work didn’t dilute his independence — in many ways, it enabled it. Across decades of filmmaking, he retained his curiosity, his integrity and his belief that audiences were intelligent enough to engage with complicated characters and complicated ideas. For any filmmaker trying to make personal work outside the mainstream, John Sayles isn’t simply a great writer-director. He’s a genuine indie filmmaking hero — and proof that it is possible to survive within the film business without allowing the business to define the films you make.

I recently re-watched, Matewan (1987), having not seen it for years. It is a beautifully crafted, deeply humane piece of American cinema in which the personal, political and historical become inseparable. Taking the real-life Matewan coal conflicts of 1920 as his foundation, Sayles creates something far richer than a conventional historical drama. This is a film about miners and their families, immigrants and outsiders, union organisers and company men; about people discovering that their only real strength lies in standing together against corporate bosses prepared to use intimidation, exploitation and outright violence to maintain their power.



There is an incredible humanity running throughout the film. Sayles understands the divisions between these workers — racial, cultural, religious and economic — and therefore never makes their eventual solidarity feel easy or sentimental. The miners have to overcome suspicion and prejudice before recognising that the forces dividing them are also helping to keep them powerless. At the centre of it all is Chris Cooper, superb as union organiser Joe Kenehan: quiet, intelligent, principled and determined to prevent an already volatile situation from descending into violence. Around him Sayles constructs an entire community, allowing individual lives, marriages, friendships and rivalries to exist alongside the larger political struggle.

The film is also visually magnificent. Working with the great cinematographer Haskell Wexler, Sayles gives Matewan (1987) a rich, earthy, almost tactile quality. The mountains, forests, railway tracks, wooden houses and coal-blackened interiors don’t merely provide an interesting period backdrop; they seem to contain the history of the people living and working within them. There is mud, smoke, sweat, blood, tears and darkness everywhere, contrasted with the natural beauty of the West Virginia landscape. The mines themselves feel oppressive and dangerous, while the wider landscape can appear both beautiful and imprisoning. Further, while these people live among extraordinary natural beauty they are being economically trapped by the company that controls the coal mines.

Rather than building the film around conventional movie stars, Sayles assembled the kind of extraordinary American character actors who make every face and every voice feel as though it belongs in this world. Chris Cooper – in his debut feature – gives the film its moral centre, while James Earl Jones brings enormous dignity, warmth and authority to ‘Few Clothes’ Johnson. David Strathairn is wonderfully memorable as Sid Hatfield, and Mary McDonnell brings intelligence and emotional complexity to Elma Radnor. Then there is Kevin Tighe as Hickey, one of the Baldwin-Felts agents sent into Matewan to intimidate the miners and break their resistance. Tighe gives the film a genuinely menacing presence: smiling, controlled and utterly comfortable with the threat of violence.

The combination of historical detail, political conviction, memorable acting and direction, magnificent cinematography, beautifully observed characterisation and gripping storytelling is what makes Matewan (1987) such a remarkable achievement. Sayles takes a specific labour dispute in a West Virginia mining town and turns it into something both intimate and expansive: a story about solidarity, dignity, prejudice, exploitation and the terrible price ordinary people can pay when they challenge entrenched power. Yet for all its anger, Matewan (1987) never loses its compassion. Sayles remains interested in people first. It is muscular, intelligent, visually beautiful and deeply moving filmmaking, made with enormous integrity — and one of the finest examples of just how powerful American independent cinema can be.

Mark: 9.5 out of 11


Classic Film Review: The Master (2012)

Classic Film Review: The Master (2012)

Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

Written by Paul Thomas Anderson

Produced by: JoAnne Sellar, Daniel Lupi, Paul Thomas Anderson, Megan Ellison etc.

Main cast: Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Laura Dern, Jesse Plemons, Ambyr Childers, Rami Malek, etc.

Cinematography by Mihai Mălaimare Jr.

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



Of late, I have been watching, as research to develop a feature film concerned with religion, faith and complex human behaviour, many religious themed films. Indeed, I especially love films and documentaries about cults. Especially where religion is used to control human beings and make them do crazy things. What possesses another person to want to control others? Power, lust, greed or all of the above?

Cult leaders are often extremely charismatic and talented people too. Further, they can be dangerous people who use their influence to make money, commit crime, manipulate and abuse others. Thus from a human and dramatic perspective, cults and religious characters are always fascinating to write about.

In Paul Thomas Anderson’s The Master (2012), he explores the relationship between a lost soul drawn to a movement that may or may not be a reflection of Scientology. Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix), a World War II veteran is pulled toward Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a commanding leader of a cult known as “The Cause”. But, arguably, not much happens other than Quell having a series of breakdowns amidst post-traumatic stress and alcoholism, before taking his chaos and violence into Dodd’s church and family. Anderson is one of the great humanist and existential filmmakers working today, but The Master (2012), having watched it at least twice, I found it too impenetrable and alienating for me.

Yet, in my filmic research I have watched The Master (2012) a third time and have now identified a number of reasons why I have not connected with the film. They are both structural and thematic. My expectations were that this film would be a deep historical dive into the establishing of L. Ron Hubbard’s creation of Scientology. Albeit, it would be a veiled one to avoid the ire of the Scientologist organisation, who are known to attack people or companies that critique their ways. So, I am complicit there because ultimately one should not judge a work before watching it. Anderson’s choices and approach are way more personal than a traditional biopic and I should not be so arrogant to expect him to make a film just for me.

So, with my expectations on an in-depth analysis of the cult of Scientology quelled, structurally The Master (2012) further jars with me on a story level. Such narrative cracks appear all through the overall character arc of character Freddie Quell. If the film, as the first act establishes well, effectively delivered a character study of a sex-addicted, alcoholic, PTSD suffering, angry World War 2 veteran struggling to cope with existence, I could certainly have been compelled by that. Ultimately, The Master (2012) is a dramatic two-hander facing Quell’s out-of-control, human car-crash versus Lancaster’s intelligent and controlling patriarch. Anderson also once again, as he did in Hard Eight (1996), Boogie Nights (1997), and There Will Be Blood (2007), explores the father-son power dynamic between these two characters.



Yet, introducing Lancaster and “The Cause” to Quell’s character development has little or no effect on him. I understand Anderson may be saying Quell is a lost soul, but what emotional impact or feeling can the audience to take from this? Quell finishes the film relatively unchanged by Lancaster’s auditing, “spiritual” advice and fatherly tutelage. Yes, in real life, people often don’t change and behave the same throughout their lives committed to the same self-destructive behaviour. However, I felt that if Quell could not change for the better perhaps he could have gone even deeper into despair within his religious experience.

To conclude: Paul Thomas Anderson’s The Master (2012) is, on a purely cinematic level, close to technically perfect. It contains some of the finest acting ever committed to screen, particularly from Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lancaster Dodd. Hoffman manages to make Dodd charismatic, ridiculous, paternal, threatening and strangely vulnerable, often within the same scene. His performance is matched by Joaquin Phoenix’s extraordinary physical transformation as Freddie Quell, but it is Hoffman who fascinates me most: the booming confidence of the public performer repeatedly giving way to flashes of insecurity, anger and desperation whenever his authority is challenged.

Technically, the film is equally remarkable. Mihai Mălaimare Jr.’s 65mm cinematography gives the images an extraordinary richness and clarity, while the colours, period detail, compositions and use of light make virtually every frame feel meticulously constructed. There are moments when The Master (2012) is simply one of the most beautiful American films of the twenty-first century. And yet, for all that mastery, I have never enjoyed the film as much as its critical reputation suggests I should.

Its central problem for me is the almost broken-backed, water-and-oil combination of Freddie Quell’s under-nourished emotional journey and the film’s tantalising but ultimately limited exploration of Dodd’s movement, “The Cause”. The parallels with Scientology are obvious and fascinating, yet Anderson seems reluctant to investigate the psychology, mechanics and seductive power of cults with the depth the material promises. Instead, the film repeatedly retreats towards the relationship between Freddie and Dodd — a relationship performed magnificently but one in which Freddie’s emotional development can feel frustratingly elusive.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11