“I hate digital cameras, you can’t even see what you’re doing!” says Anton Corbijn as he snaps a shot on a recce. Every time I see him on camera, he seems to struggle with technology, like the rented gear that won’t focus properly on the Joshua Tree shoots. And there was that time he took polaroids of me while complaining it was a borrowed camera and he didn’t know how to work it. The shots were blurry. In Quirijns documentary too he keeps saying: “That’s not in focus!” and claims his work is never “perfect”. But we get a very clear picture of him.

What a touching, skillful documentary it is. I love the shots of Anton alone, standing front of stage watching the Arcade Fire soundcheck, and the blurry shots of him watching them play table tennis. I almost felt a kinship with him. If only I were as tall, as talented.

The score, composed by our mutual friend, is very prominent and it does two things: It makes the documentary more of a “movie”, a drama. And it echoes the roar of the sea that also features strongly.

It’s the sound of this constant, stifling Dutch protestant oppression going on in the guy’s head: “must work harder, must be worthy”.

“I love this coast line,” Anton says walking on the beach near The Hague, “But I usually see it from up there…” The camera turns around and you find out he means he only ever sees it from an airplane. He’s always on the move, living out of suitcases and he says he loves travel, loves the idea of going somewhere and then bringing part of it, the experience, home. But his sister worries about his crazy work schedule and that one day, he might collapse.

Much is made of his ability to see things. See more of things. More than other people. Bono talks about ‘light’, the medium Corbijn works with, and framing it with shade, or darkness. I think his height helps too, a different angle on his famous subjects, who are so often vertically challenged.

There weren’t any icons on the wall when Anton grew up, not in his religion. His – mostly absent – father was a minister, his mother a minister’s daughter who wasn’t allowed to marry her real love. (“But you were happy with dad, weren’t you?” Anton asks her. “Ach, well,” she answers.) There was chapel, and at the dinner table talk of sickness and death passed as conversation. But never icons.

So he’s drawn to them and creates them.

After the screening, he’s called up on stage after the producers stumble through their presentation, cue cards in hand. Don’t let the Dutch speak in public. We’re not good at it.

Corbijn, in comparison, is eloquent for a self confessed loner. He thanks the director, in particular for the footage of his mother who died shortly after the documentary was finished, and he states:

“I’m glad we can go back to focusing on my WORK rather than my person.”

John Calvin has a lot to answer for.

The New York Times’ A. O. Scott looks at Jim Sheridan’s 1993 drama.

Trailer for Anton Corbijn’s new movie ‘The American’, starring George Clooney as a hitman who wants out. Corbijn has been blogging about the film and posting (obviously stunning) stills from the set. The American is out September 1st.

Second trailer
Official website
Anton Corbijn’s The American poster old-school cool

In 1981 I was 18 years old and a big fan of Paul Newman. Fandom in those days wasn’t as concentrated as it is now. Apart from my best friend, with whom I went to see his movies, I didn’t know anyone else who was a fan and all I knew about the man was what I read in the printed press. I kept a scrap book with cuttings from newspapers and magazines and saved up to buy posters and picture books from a movie memorabilia shops in The Hague and London.

When I spotted a birthday card with the text ‘You have something in common with Paul Newman, Robert Redford and Marlon Brando’ on the front and ‘You’re all over 40 years old’ on the inside, I bought it and sent it to Newman. I had learned the name of his house, in Westport, Connecticut, and that’s where I sent my card. I didn’t expect anything of it.

A few weeks later I received a large envelope. In it was a signed still from his latest movie – Absence of Malice – and a letter, written by Newman’s secretary on ‘Paul Newman’ embossed stationery. I didn’t know at the time a lot of actors would send out autographed pictures to fans when written to. So for me, a – somewhat immature – girl living in a small village in the Dutch countryside, it was a wonderful surprise.

Learning of Paul Newman’s death today through Twitter made me dig out my old scrapbook to find the picture and letter. I’m not sure the autograph is Newman’s own, his secretary may have signed the photo. It doesn’t matter, really, and I’m way past the autograph-phase, but I’m glad I still have it, a reminder of the person I was back then.

Never having been a Joy Division fan and only really appreciating their music in hindsight – for a few shameful months in the early 80′s I claimed to prefer Paul Young’s cover of Love Will Tear Us Apart over the original – , my main reason to see the film Control was its director. It’s safe to say I’m not going to be entirely objective in my opinion of the film. Corbijn’s the only Dutch hero I have and you’re not going to find me slagging off his work. Thankfully, I don’t have to. Control may well be his best snapshot.

I knew the basics of Joy Division and Curtis’s story: the epilepsy, the way he moved on stage, the suicide. I put him firmly in the ‘tortured soul’ (and thus sympathetic) department of the ‘dead icons’ warehouse in my mind.

Halfway through the film, my opinion of Curtis changed. I’ve never had much sympathy for kids stupid enough to marry in their teens or manchildren who cheat on their wives.

‘Twat,’ I thought as Curtis rings the wife to tell her he’s finished it with his Belgian paramour, then stumbles straight back into the other woman’s arms. ‘Idiots,’ I thought, as his manager and fellow band members put him back on stage straight after his first attempted suicide. ‘Fuck off and die,’ I thought as the terribly twee ‘Annik’ kept coming back for more supposedly deep and meaningful conversation, the sneaking around condoned and abetted by the likes of Tony Wilson. God rest his soul, but… ‘Wanker!’

Meanwhile I’m practically salivating over the stark cinematography of the film. Given Corbijn’s visionary photography, this was always going to be a good looking movie. Still, I think he surpassed himself by toning down the romanticism so prevalent in his photographs; omitting the more baroque influences on his style: the religious and erotic imagery you’ll be familiar with through his work with Depeche Mode in particular. In Control, Corbijn finds a painful, sparse beauty in grey, the predominant colour of Thatcherite Britain, capturing the essence of the era as only a knowledgeable outsider can. Every single shot in this film is a work of art, substance winning out over style throughout.

Corbijn – a photographer who really wanted to be a drummer – makes the ‘concert’ parts of the film look real. Hyper real. This isn’t what it’s like being at a concert, this is what it feels like to be at and play a concert. The sound during the concert scenes has a real punch too. Having the
actors play their instruments for real was a really smart move by the ‘first time’ director. His tracking shots of a rapturous audience are spot on: the anonymous strangers lost in their own worlds, the childlike gazes of your bestest fans, the one familiar face that’s there for you, time not running quite the way it should… Again, Corbijn is the knowledgeable outsider, drawing from his experience with musicians and their craft.

Anton Corbijn and Pimm Jal de la Parra, 1989

Actor Sam Riley looks the part and does a great job most of the time, especially on stage and in the scenes he plays on his own. He’s less convincing acting off other actors, the formidable Samantha Morton (who plays Debbie Curtis) in particular, but given his character, the clumsiness works in his favour. The supporting cast is excellent, particularly the light relief provided by Toby Kebbell as the band’s manager Rob Gretton and the two young actors playing Hooky and Barney.

Various reviews have made mention of the other movie set in the era, 24 hour party people, some claiming the earlier film superior, preferring its Winterbottom’s exuberance over Corbijn’s stark view. I think Winterbottom’s film is myth-making, somewhat glorifying, while Corbijn’s vision demystifies and humanises Joy Division’s story.

The final stages of the film are harrowing despite knowing the outcome in advance. For those of us who have lost loved ones in similar circumstances, these kind of images really are too close for comfort. Thankfully, Corbijn pulls back from his subject, granting Curtis privacy in his final moments. The last frame of the movie informs you he was 23 years old when he died.

Twenty-three. That’s when it hits home. Young enough to only see black and white, not old enough to know better. Young enough to be forgiven for his twattiness and philandering. What a waste.

The day after, I stick on Control’s soundtrack and burst into tears.

I’ve never seen (or read) A Clockwork Orange.

Reading the Wikipedia entry doesn’t count, I’m sure.

Interview with Anton and fragments from the film. Trailer at YouTube.

The UK trailer makes Scott Walker – 30th Centry Man sound like a thriller. Already it’s looking better than the Leonard Cohen tribute film.

"2001: A Space Odyssey" (1968) Stanley Kubrick
"The 400 Blows" (1959) Francois Truffaut
"8 1/2" (1963) Federico Fellini
"Aguirre, the Wrath of God" (1972) Werner Herzog
"Alien" (1979) Ridley Scott
"All About Eve" (1950) Joseph L. Mankiewicz
"Annie Hall" (1977) Woody Allen
"Apocalypse Now" (1979) Francis Ford Coppola*
"Bambi" (1942) Disney
"The Battleship Potemkin" (1925) Sergei Eisenstein
"The Best Years of Our Lives" (1946) William Wyler
"The Big Red One" (1980) Samuel Fuller
"The Bicycle Thief" (1949) Vittorio De Sica
"The Big Sleep" (1946) Howard Hawks
"Blade Runner" (1982) Ridley Scott
"Blowup" (1966) Michelangelo Antonioni
"Blue Velvet" (1986) David Lynch
"Bonnie and Clyde" (1967) Arthur Penn
"Breathless" (1959 Jean-Luc Godard
"Bringing Up Baby" (1938) Howard Hawks
"Carrie" (1975) Brian DePalma
"Casablanca" (1942) Michael Curtiz
"Un Chien Andalou" (1928) Luis Bunuel & Salvador Dali
"Children of Paradise" / "Les Enfants du Paradis" (1945) Marcel Carne
"Chinatown" (1974) Roman Polanski
"Citizen Kane" (1941) Orson Welles (Have this on DVD, but not seen it yet.)
"A Clockwork Orange" (1971) Stanley Kubrick
"The Crying Game" (1992) Neil Jordan
"The Day the Earth Stood Still" (1951) Robert Wise
"Days of Heaven" (1978) Terence Malick
"Dirty Harry" (1971) Don Siegel
"The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie" (1972) Luis Bunuel
"Do the Right Thing" (1989) Spike Lee
"La Dolce Vita" (1960) Federico Fellini
"Double Indemnity" (1944) Billy Wilder
"Dr. Strangelove" (1964) Stanley Kubrick
"Duck Soup" (1933) Leo McCarey
"E.T. — The Extra-Terrestrial" (1982) Steven Spielberg
"Easy Rider" (1969) Dennis Hopper
"The Empire Strikes Back" (1980) Irvin Kershner
"The Exorcist" (1973) William Friedkin
"Fargo" (1995) Joel & Ethan Coen
"Fight Club" (1999) David Fincher
"Frankenstein" (1931) James Whale
"The General" (1927) Buster Keaton & Clyde Bruckman
"The Godfather," "The Godfather, Part II" (1972, 1974) Francis Ford Coppola
"Gone With the Wind" (1939) Victor Fleming
"GoodFellas" (1990) Martin Scorsese
"The Graduate" (1967) Mike Nichols
"Halloween" (1978) John Carpenter
"A Hard Day’s Night" (1964) Richard Lester
"Intolerance" (1916) D.W. Griffith
"It’s a Gift" (1934) Norman Z. McLeod
"It’s a Wonderful Life" (1946) Frank Capra
"Jaws" (1975) Steven Spielberg
"The Lady Eve" (1941) Preston Sturges
"Lawrence of Arabia" (1962) David Lean
"M" (1931) Fritz Lang
"Mad Max 2" / "The Road Warrior" (1981) George Miller
"The Maltese Falcon" (1941) John Huston
"The Manchurian Candidate" (1962) John Frankenheimer
"Metropolis" (1926) Fritz Lang
"Modern Times" (1936) Charles Chaplin
"Monty Python and the Holy Grail" (1975) Terry Jones & Terry Gilliam
"Nashville" (1975) Robert Altman
"The Night of the Hunter" (1955) Charles Laughton
"Night of the Living Dead" (1968) George Romero
"North by Northwest" (1959) Alfred Hitchcock
"Nosferatu" (1922) F.W. Murnau
"On the Waterfront" (1954) Elia Kazan
"Once Upon a Time in the West" (1968) Sergio Leone
"Out of the Past" (1947) Jacques Tournier
"Persona" (1966) Ingmar Bergman
"Pink Flamingos" (1972) John Waters
"Psycho" (1960) Alfred Hitchcock
"Pulp Fiction" (1994) Quentin Tarantino
"Rashomon" (1950) Akira Kurosawa
"Rear Window" (1954) Alfred Hitchcock
"Rebel Without a Cause" (1955) Nicholas Ray
"Red River" (1948) Howard Hawks
"Repulsion" (1965) Roman Polanski
"The Rules of the Game" (1939) Jean Renoir
"Scarface" (1932) Howard Hawks
"The Scarlet Empress" (1934) Josef von Sternberg
"Schindler’s List" (1993) Steven Spielberg
"The Searchers" (1956) John Ford
"The Seven Samurai" (1954) Akira Kurosawa
"Singin’ in the Rain" (1952) Stanley Donen & Gene Kelly
"Some Like It Hot" (1959) Billy Wilder
"A Star Is Born" (1954) George Cukor
"A Streetcar Named Desire" (1951) Elia Kazan
"Sunset Boulevard" (1950) Billy Wilder
"Taxi Driver" (1976) Martin Scorsese
"The Third Man" (1949) Carol Reed
"Tokyo Story" (1953) Yasujiro Ozu
"Touch of Evil" (1958) Orson Welles
"The Treasure of the Sierra Madre" (1948) John Huston
"Trouble in Paradise" (1932) Ernst Lubitsch
"Vertigo" (1958) Alfred Hitchcock
"West Side Story" (1961) Jerome Robbins/Robert Wise
"The Wild Bunch" (1969) Sam Peckinpah
"The Wizard of Oz" (1939) Victor Fleming

That’s 51 out of 102, if I counted right. There’s a couple in there that I’ve only seen part of, and some of them so long ago that I wouldn’t remember the first thing about them.

My favourites from this list
The Third Man, Taxi Driver, Singing in the Rain, Scarface, On the Waterfront, the Holy Grail, Lawrence of Arabia, The Godfather II, The Crying Game, Blue Velvet, Blade Runner, Apocalypse Now.

Films I’d never heard of before
The 400 Blows, The Big Red One, Aguirre the Wrath of God, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, Duck Soup, The General, Intolerance, It’s a Gift, The Lady Eve,
Out of the past, Persona, The Rules of the Game, Tokyo Story.

• I walk the line: ‘And take the pills.’ Joaquin Phoenix is highly watchable channelling Johnny Cash, but the film felt a little too much like a tv/mini series to me.
• North Country: ‘Life is tough when yer a miner girl.’ Very ‘Silkwood’, in fact Charlize Theron might just be the new Meryl Streep.
• The Matador: ‘Bond. Not Bond.’ Eye-opening performance by Pierce Brosnan, great support from Greg Kinnear. I fell asleep 3/4 through the film, must watch the end soon.
• Walllace and Gromit and the Curse of the Were Rabbit: Gave up after five minutes. Not in the mood for clay-silliness.

I’m looking for a good book to read after Banville’s The Sea and McEwan’s Saturday. Any suggestions?