Eo

Eo is the latest film from legendary Polish director, Jerzy Skolimowski. It's also the name of the lead character, a donkey, and cripes, does this poor fecker go through some shit. He starts out as a circus donkey with a caring handler, Kasandra (Sandra Drzymalska), but is soon 'rescued' by animal liberationists and sent to some sort of equestrian complex. He's just as downtrodden here though, so he runs slightly amok, and is sent off to a donkey sanctuary in the hills. Things seem comfy here until Kasandra visits drunk one night and Eo decides (I guess) to chase her when she leaves. 

The film is an extended period in the life of this donkey and how its presence affects the people around it. There are several great overhead shots of the Polish and Italian landscapes and one drone sequence that made me feel slightly woozy (in a good way). The action follows the hapless Eo from situation to situation and shines a light on the varying levels of ugly humanity that he encounters - from football hooligans to shonky priests. But these rough moments are just about matched by the kindness of other humans - it's pretty much a rollercoaster ride for poor old Eo, though ultimately, it's clear that his wellbeing is not at the top of anyone's priority list. 

Isabelle Huppert appears as The Countess, and it's an almost intangible shock when we see her. I mean, this isn't a bad film but surely she must have owed Jerzy a favour. Like all the humans in the film, though, she isn't in it for too long. Eo is the throughline and the orbital occurrences seem like so much piffle to him. I reckon that's the rub of this film - we may think everything in our lives is so important but the incidental beast of burden (and virtually every other living thing in the world) rightly couldn't give a shit.

Eo is screening at UWA Somerville from Nov 27 - Dec 3 as part of the Perth Festival.

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I suppose it would be poor form not to mention Robert Bresson's Au Hasard Balthazar (1966) but I haven't seen it, so can't recommend. I does seem to be a companion piece, though. I do heartily recommend Jérôme Boivin's Baxter (1989), a fantastic film seen through the eyes of a murderous bull terrier. 

Saltburn

Emerald Fennell's excoriating follow up to Promising Young Woman skewers class and privilege with louche insouciance. Barry Keoghan plays Oliver, a needy, slightly pathetic scholarship student and he's in stellar form. As a 'Johhny-no-mates' at Oxford University, an opportunity arises to ingratiate himself with the cool folks on campus, led by Felix (a surprisingly excellent Jacob Elordi).

The humour in this is just one of many drawcards. It's all played with a rigidly straight bat and there's an uneasy sting to it. The first inkling of this is a perfect outburst at a common room dinner - not so crucial in the wash up, but a great indicator of things to come.

Oliver's underprivileged family situation presses Felix to invite him home to his parents' estate for the summer, the evocatively named, Saltburn. Here is where things begin to ramp up. Aside from the folks, Sir James and Elspeth (played with pitch perfect timing by Richard E. Grant and Rosamund Pike), we also meet Felix's sister, Venetia (Alison Oliver) and are reintroduced to cousin Farleigh (Archie Madekwe), who is part of the Uni crowd. There's also creepy manservant, Duncan (Paul Rhys), who judges imperiously, and Poor Dear Pamela (Carey Mulligan), a possibly deluded 'friend' of the family. Nobody misses a beat, the casting is brilliant.

There have been a number of films of late critiquing the entitlement of the upper classes. The subversive distinction here is that we are led to feel a kind of sympathy for the entitled Catton family, sort of like how some people feel about the Windsors. But the message is almost a threat: "Just keep this shit up, richies, and you'll see what'll happen." Balancing audience sympathies is the gamble, and Fennell runs a fine line, but she pulls it off with aplomb, right down to the piss-take final musical flourish.

There are a couple of wince-inducing moments in Saltburn - some really discomfiting stuff. I won't go into detail here but there might be some recurring images of bath plugholes for a while. Mostly though, it's the dark humour that resonates. Some of the dialogue is sublime, whether it's Elspeth bragging about knowing the Britpop crew or Sir James delighting in wearing his suit of armour, there are some absolute pages of gold here. There is also a great analogy about a moth, fluttering at the window, attracted to the shiny things, trying to get in; as opposed to a spider, skulking about, weaving its web. 

Linus Sandgren (No Time to Die, Babylon, La La Land) deserves a heap of credit - his cinematography is stunning. There are plenty of languidly trippy visuals but there's one long shot of human silhouettes down a misty, tree-lined lane that is fucking stupendous. And the lunch table scene where Sir James has a raging rant about finishing the pie is shot through red with a grief and desperation that makes it the filmic peak of 2023 for me.

This won't necessarily be for everyone but I think it's a gem. Saltburn is in cinemas around the country now. 

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I wonder if Fennell has seen Pier Paolo Pasolini's Theorem (1968). I haven't (so can't recommend) but she seems to have taken some cues from it. There's a touch of Anthony Minghella's The Talented Mr Ripley - and its predecessor, Rene Clement's Plein Soleil (1960), as well as Joe Wright's Atonement (2007), but the vibes are more like Park Chan-wook's Stoker (2013).

(Film stills and trailer ©Warner Bros, 2023)

Copa 71

This first film of the Perth Festival's Lotterywest screenings is a great doco about the Women's Football World Cup in 1971. After the 1970 Men's World Cup in Mexico some bright sparks realised that a similar tournament, using the same facilities and interest levels, but with women players, might turn a handy little profit. Six teams from Europe and the Americas were invited and the reception they received was amazing. As to be expected, the conservative dudes of FIFA tried many tricks to stymie the event, though a general stadium ban only forced the games into two of the largest grounds in Mexico - the Jalisco and the Azteca. Supreme own goal, dickheads.

Copa 71 uses a fairly traditional documentary format, blending archival footage with modern day interviews. It balances the sport sequences and the social justice elements really well - not a typical football doco and yet not a polemic as such. The directors have form in this field. It's Rachel Ramsay's first gig as director but she has plenty of producing credits, and James Erskine is all over the sports doco paddock. He directed the excellent One Night in Turin about England's failed 1990 World Cup, as well as films on cricket, tennis, rugby, cycling and.....jazz. Oh, and he has some drama in his catalogue too. Busy fella.

There are some fascinating moments throughout, from former US player, Brandi Chastain gobsmacked at the realisation that she wasn't part of the first Women's World Cup in 1991, to football historian supreme, David Goldblatt (of The Ball is Round fame) raining down some brickbats on the fusty gents of yore and their, admittedly successful, attempts to put a stop to the increasingly popular women's game. Post WWI and into the 1920s women's football seemed to be heading for a place in the general public consciousness, until the FAs around the world (run by men only, of course) banned clubs from having women's teams. The film shows the kick-back to this nonsense starting around the 1960s and culminating in the centre-piece of the film, the Mexican tournament. Empirical evidence shows that this was a false dawn, and that it's only in recent years that the women's game has begun to gain traction.

Oddly, there's no mention of the 1970 edition of the unofficial Women's World Cup (same sponsors Martini & Rossi) in Italy. I guess the filmmakers found the better story with this one but not to even have a word about it seemed remiss. There's a lovely slice of controversy when, in the Mexico vs Italy semi-final, the referee appears to be siding with the home team. This doesn't go down so well with the Italians, led by their feisty superstar, Elena Schiavo, who is a top draw proponent of 'shithousery'. The tension is cranked up through the preliminary rounds, and the carnival atmosphere accompanies the teams to the crowd of 110,000 waiting for them at the Azteca. The treatment of the athletes after this showpiece match is to the detriment of the relevant authorities, and Copa 71 serves as a hopeful refrain that this will be consigned to the past.

Copa 71 is screening at UWA Somerville from Nov 20 - 26 as part of the Perth Festival.

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Erskine's One Night in Turin (2010) is more than a football doco too. And for a light take on women's football, have a look at Bill Forsyth's Gregory's Girl (1980). It's probably dated but it means well.