Review - NO

Note: This is actually a review from last year's MIFF that I thought I posted but inexplicably never actually got around to. Which is truly stupid, because it was definitely one of my highlights of the festival. 

Over the course of MIFF '12, I managed to catch two Chilean films. Both films concerned themselves with matters of national importance (a national hero and a momentous decision, respectively), but could not have been further apart in terms of tone and method of delivery. 

Violeta Went to Heaven was a passionate, emotional, and endlessly sombre film littered with alienating moments of magic realism. Frankly (and disappointingly), I wasn't nearly as affected by it as I'd liked to have been. NO on the other hand, is emotive without being heavy-handed, is stylistically and aesthetically bold without being alienating or pretentious. Surprisingly moving and littered with solid performances, NO has managed to be a personal highlight over the fortnight or so of films on offer at MIFF ‘12. Woah! 

Without descending into a history lesson, Pablo Larraín’s NO concerns itself with the referendum held in 1988, after fifteen-odd years of Augusto Pinochet getting his dictatorship on and seriously cramping the style of just about all of Chile. The referendum (which I believe must have been a result of international pressure) asked Chileans to vote YES or NO to General Pinochet ruling for another eight years. Each side would receive a certain amount of TV airtime in order to convince the average Chileno to hand over their vote. 

In charge of the NO campaign is René Saavedra (Gael García Bernal), a young advertising hotshot. In a risky move that angers those who would fill the allocated fifteen minutes with pictures of death and destruction, René chooses instead to simply use the strategy he favoured to sell soft drink and microwaves. The message of the NO campaign becomes one of positivity, looking to a brighter future for Chile sans Pinochet - full of young people on the beach, dancing and rainbows. Of course, there’s always going to be more factors involved in a dictatorship being overthrown than an effective campaign, but NO does compellingly detail the way a positive message, a catchy jingle and good advertising strategy can play a monumental role. “CHILE! HAPPINESS IS COMING!” the videos declare, in a tune that takes up residency in your head long after the film’s ended. Let's hear it for advertising! Yeah, Don Draper! 

NO was shot on era-appropriate U-matic video camera, which gives the film an authentic feel, and which also means the actual ads, campaign spots and news bulletins seamlessly interwoven with the film. The use of said actual footage makes for often wryly funny, and at times moving, viewing. The YES campaign ends up taking some "they actually did that?" directions, in which it becomes clear sometimes history really is more bizarro than fiction. And that TV in the 80s was fucking weird. In turn, footage of actual riots in Chile’s streets makes for some emotional scenes. It’s a bold, effective decision to interweave the footage, one that ultimately pays off - even if NO ends up looking murky and weirdly square (4:3? In 2012?). 

Gael García Bernal gives a fine, understated performance is the maverick ad man at the film’s centre. However, given the amount of time given NO to the workings of the campaign, the relationships and subplots at the human core of the film aren’t given enough attention. As a result, many of the characters within NO remain underdeveloped, including René’s estranged wife, Veronica. If I’m going to have another small gripe, it’d be that the film was slightly too long, and that without some prior knowledge of Chile’s history, one might feel slightly lost at times. However, neither of those things were enough to detract from the film as a whole in a majorly irritating way. 

Pablo Larraín’s film about a pivotal moment within the long and skinny South American country's history is a fascinating one. NO is an arresting snapshot of a time and a place not often visited, and is a compelling look at where and to what extent advertising and social upheaval can intersect. It's also moving, surprisingly funny, and despite its occasional slow moments, ultimately rewarding.

Review: Safety Not Guaranteed

Right off the bat: Safety Not Guaranteed very swiftly stolen the mantle from all others as my highlight from this year's Melbourne International Film Festival. 

Not for a long while has a film completely and utterly charmed the bejeezus out of me, and sent me from the theatre with such an elated spring in its step. Colin Trevorrow's somewhat-sci-fi romantic comedy isn't to be congratulated merely on its ability to elicit a good mood however; while far from perfect, Safety Not Guaranteed is littered with stellar performances, a whip-smart delightful script, and is surprisingly touching. 

Unless you're the type of person who spends far too much time on Reddit than is probably healthy, you may not have been aware of a joke ad that did the rounds online. It was a wanted ad, seeking a partner to go back in time with. "MUST BRING OWN WEAPONS." it declared, "SAFETY NOT GUARANTEED. I HAVE ONLY DONE THIS ONCE BEFORE". Trevorrow and screenwriter Derek Connolly - both of whom make their feature debut here - as the question, what if this guy’s for real? Is he crazy? Does he actually think he can go back in time? 

Those sent to discover this are self-absorbed journalist Jeff (Jake M Johnson), and his two interns, nerdy and awkward Arnau (newcomer Karan Soni) and our heroine, Darius (Aubrey Plaza). The trio head to a seaside town outside of Seattle, to track down Kenneth (mumblecore veteran Mark Duplass), the weirdo who believes he has harnessed the secret of time travel. Jeff has taken the assignment in order to track down a high school sweetheart, bringing along the two interns to carry out the assignment for him. The trio find Kenneth a mulleted grocery store clerk, and Darius introduces herself - sarcastically, and challenging Kenneth’s “calculations” - as a willing partner in time travel. As it turns out, he’s deadly serious about his mission, and his “training”, and the fact that he’s being monitored by agents of some sort. As the slightly jaded and quietly unhappy Darius becomes increasingly intrigued with Kenneth and deeper embroiled in his plan, the lines between investigative journalism and personal mission become progressively more blurred. How much of the goings-on are in Kenneth’s head? Does it matter? 

Where Safety Not Guaranteed draws its strength is from a strong cast, great chemistry between the leads, and a whip-crackingly intelligent script. One might believe the trajectory of the film to be an easily identifiable one, but Derek Connolly manages to mostly avoid cliches successfully, and keeps things  Each character is a three-dimensional whole person, even the douchey Jeff, who could very well have ended up an utterly unlikable fella. While it’s obvious Kenneth and Darius will get together, the romance is a touching and understated one. Hell, the efforts of those at the helm of Safety Not Guaranteed result in it being difficult to tell whether time travel will actually occur even as the film reaches its last few minutes. 

Aubrey Plaza is essentially playing a slight variation on April Ludgate, her character in Parks and Recreation, but in this instance one can forgive her for playing to her strengths. Plaza appears slightly shaky during the film’s opening scenes, but as the story progresses she proves herself as more than capable in a lead role. Duplass too, has of late proved himself to be an on-screen presence to be reckoned with. In a role that could have descended into caricature, Duplass plays it straight, to poignant effect. To be honest, Safety Not Guaranteed is very much Duplass’s show. 

Safety Not Guaranteed is one of the smarter, more ambitious and genre-defying films I’ve had the pleasure of seeing in a long while. It’s touching and intelligent, kind-hearted and very, very funny. As to whether the heroes actually achieve time travel, that is not something I’ll be divulging.

I give Safety Not Guaranteed 4 out of 5 time-travel denim jackets. 

MIFF: Pure

Dir. Lisa Langseth 


"Mesmerising" is an adjective I've been known to use often. Or at the very least, I find that I use it on a regular basis, to describe a variety of things. Performances, long takes, certain ridiculous gifs found in the dark underbelly of the internet. However, while watching Pure late last week I found myself truly mesmerised by the film's young lead, Alicia Vikander. I say that I was truly mesmerised because I actually COULD NOT tear my eyes away from her. Her eyes, her face, and the myriad emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.

In fact, I was so busy scribbling gushing notes on the tram going home that I managed to get on the wrong tram. True story, and testament to the extent of Pure having whisked away with my thoughts.

Alicia Vikander is Katarina, a twenty-year-old former prostitute, who lives with her boyfriend in the scummy part of Sweden (I guess). A troubled youth who despises her alcoholic mother, she's constantly dealing with social services, and constantly getting fired. She's prone to bursts of rage, in between long stretches of quiet, bottled up emotion. After stumbling upon a piece of music by Mozart on Youtube, Katarina is immediately and deeply affected by it. To her, the music represents (and sends her to) a place where even those she hates can't reach her.

After Katarina somewhat accidentally lands herself a job as a receptionist at a concert hall where she'd previously attended a performance, she promptly sets about burning all of her bridges and becomes involved with the egotistical resident conductor. The conductor (Samuel Fröler) is a pompous, arrogant, selfish ass, but it's easy to see why Katarina would become enamoured of him. Which she does, immediately. It's immediately after this, that Katarina's sojourn into the world of the upper class and classical music begins to take a turn for the dire.

The recurring use of Mozart's Requiem - a performance of which Katarina attends - is incredibly effective. It imbues Pure with a sense of impending doom, with the overriding feeling that this is all going to end badly for at least someone involved. Indeed, as Katarina's life spirals further and further out of her control Requiem seems to represent all of the boiling rage and despair sitting just underneath Katarina's beautiful yet increasingly haggard exterior.

Pure is made by Vikander's performance. It's an incredibly natural, nuanced, graceful performance. Every small victory, every instance in which Adam the conductor slights her, they're all reflected with a subtlety and maturity. It's at times somewhat painful viewing, as Katarina is pushed further and further to her limits. "Courage is life's only measure" Adam tells her, and one can't help but wonder how far Katarina might be able to get before she or her world snaps.

Pure is my surprise hit of the festival so far, and is well worth a look, if only to become absorbed with Alicia Vikander's superb portrayal of a young woman pushed to her edge.

4/5

MIFF: Violeta Went to Heaven

Dir. Andrés Wood

My experience of seeing Violeta Went to Heaven was an interesting one. Being a biopic of Chilean national hero and folksinger Violeta Parra, the film is one entirely spoken in Spanish. However, Saturday's screening managed to be devoid of subtitles. Due to the mix-up, understandably about half of the audience had to depart after half an hour of failed attempts to couple the digital print with some English words. Lucky enough to have two Chilean parents, I was able to watch Violeta unimpeded by the lack of subtitulos. I was pretty chuffed with myself about that, I have to admit. That being said though, I found myself fumbling along at some points, namely the points in which characters spoke with lightning-quick urgency.

Perhaps it was the fact that at certain points I was unable to quite catch exactly what was being said, or perhaps it was Andrés Wood's choice to distractingly interweave moments of magic realism into the story, but I didn't find Violeta Se Fue a los Cielos resonating with me like I'd hoped it would.

Violeta Parra was born in 1917, growing up in rural Chile with her siblings and her widowed schoolteacher/musician/alcoholic father. In adulthood she traveled around Chile collecting folk songs before moving to Europe with her much younger lover, Swiss flautist Gilbert Favre. Before committing suicide in 1967, Parra had time to be a poet, singer and artist (she had her work exhibited at the Louvre) as well as a member of the Chilean communist party. I knew next to nothing about Parra's life before watching Andrés Wood's biopic of the singer's tragic story, which is at times irritating in its chronological choices. As a result, I had trouble piecing together the sequence of onscreen events, as well as being clear on what was actually happening and what was a more fantastical scene. Held together by an television interview from the mid-1960s, Violeta Went to Heaven jumps around various points in Parra's life, as well as instances of characters thought dead gazing directly down the barrel of the camera and of Parra striding through a misty wood.

Even if the film's structure and more over the top poetic choices were at times frustrating, the music that would inevitably fill a movie about a Chilean singer is astoundingly beautiful. Indeed, I found myself being moved to the point of teary-eyed sniffling at more than one point. While that probably says more about me than anything else, there's no denying that the music within Violeta is consistently gorgeous and buoys the film a great deal. As far as I'm concerned, I find that I'm very often moved to tears by South American folk music so there was never any doubt that I was going to find some sort of emotional connection to the onscreen proceedings.

Fransisca Gavilán's depiction of Parra is an emotional, passionate one. It's also a tiring one, wanting in nuance. She carries the film though, and is dynamic enough to portray someone whose life was so tumultuous and full of tragedy and hardship. Thomas Durand too, is solid as the Swiss flautist that Parra falls in love with. However, not many of the other characters that inhabit Parra's life are given enough screen time to make a lasting impression.

Violeta Went to Heaven is a solid biopic of a fascinating character within Chilean history. While at times moving, it is also uneven and lacks the emotional weight that it could have had. This is in part because of unnecessary expressionistic sequences. The music that propels the film though, is crazy-good, and Violeta is greatly improved for its inclusion.

2.5/5 (an extra .5 given because I loved the music so goddamn much)

MIFF: Moonrise Kingdom

I almost feel foolish, all this posting of invariably positive reviews from MIFF. I mean, it's obviously not a bad thing. I'd much rather spend a fortnight watching films I enjoy over films I think are bad/boring/inconsequential. That being said though, I feel still like I'm being won over very easily by these nuggets of cinematic bliss. What a slurry, no? Gimme some good performances and some lush visuals and suddenly I'm all hot and bothered, all "WANNA LIKE, GET OUT OF HERE? BACK TO MY PLACE SO I CAN WRITE A GUSHING BLOG?"

But I digress.

Moonrise Kingdom was the MIFF equivalent of my over-the-top excitement about The Dark Knight Rises. Mercifully, Moonrise Kingdom managed to live up to my lofty expectations, and then exceed them with flying colours. In short, I really enjoyed it.

The long version of that succinct little statement is this:
Wes Anderson has crafted a really magical story. Admittedly, he does have a real propensity for telling slightly fantastical tales that happen to be somewhat set in a reality we're familiar with, so it shouldn't really come as a surprise that he's done it again. In the case of Moonrise Kingdom, it's a story of first love, of the last summer before adulthood rears its ugly head.

Sam is an orphan, and by far the most unpopular member of his khaki scout troupe. Suzy is also a misfit without friends, a bookworm who's been deemed a "troubled child". They meet the summer before this one and instantly become pen pals, confiding with each other about their social misfortune and familial woes. We pick up the story as Suzy looks out her window with her ever-present pair of binoculars. She's on the look-out for Sam, with whom she's planned to meet and run away into the wilderness of the small island where they live.

They bust out of their respective prisons, Sam armed with his scouting skills and a giant backpack, and Suzy with a bunch of books, her kitten and a battery-operated record player. While Suzy's lawyer parents (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand), the local policeman (Bruce Willis) and Scoutmaster Ward (Edward Norton) pursue the young couple, Sam and Suzy trek across the island to a secluded beach. As an orphan, Sam's also being followed by a character known only as "Social Services" (Tilda Swinton), and all the while we the audience of a monumental hurricane that's about to hit the small island thanks information given to us to the narrator/chorus (Bob Balaban). After the small community is torn apart by the actions of the young lovers, the storm promises to set the stage for a monumental showdown.

Moonrise Kingdom is full of the dysfunctional characters, meticulous composition, nostalgic colour palette, quirky musical choices (the use of Hank Williams pleased me greatly) and humour that one would expect from Wes Anderson.

Anderson's films tend to follow the stories of quirky, intelligent underdogs. This is no different, with Jared Gilman's Sam being pretty reminiscent of a previous Anderson hero, Rushmore's Max Fischer. Both are supremely confident in themselves and their abilities, despite being unpopular and labelled as somewhat of a failure by some. I often find myself being unconvinced by young performances onscreen, yet Jared Gilman and Kara Hayward give really lovely performances. They're solemn and serious yet full of life, and ready to defeat any obstacle that dares stand in their way. You can't help but root for the young pair. They embody what it's like to be young and completely fearless.

As one would expect, Moonrise Kingdom is an ensemble piece, with each character probably being interesting and entertaining enough to warrant a story of their own. Edward Norton, Bruce Willis, Frances McDormand are all great. Bill Murray is, as ever, playing his usual Wes Anderson role, that of the slightly bored and slightly disappointed curmudgeon. Bob Balaban is quietly hilarious as the narrator, resplendent in a vaguely Life Aquatic-esque getup. Jason Schwartzmann makes a quick yet hilarious appearance as Cousin Ben, a smooth-operating contraband-selling scout leader. Even Harvey Keitel appears, as the commander of a neighbouring khaki scout troupe.

Moonrise Kingdom is Anderson's most ambitious work to date, full of all the humour, sadness, fantasy and stylistic flourishes that one would expect from the director. It's beautiful viewing, and it's distinctly Anderson, but it's never annoying about it. Given how much Anderson's style has evolved and grown since his 1996 debut, I was a little worried Moonrise Kingdom was going to risk edging into the territory of over-the-top. Not so however, as this particular ode to young love and innocence manages to be just the right amount of just about everything.

4/5

MIFF: The Sessions

I admit that I initially bought my ticket to The Sessions because I am a fan of John Hawkes. I admit it, so sue me. I saw his name and my eyes lit up. Then I saw a picture of him in bed with Helen Hunt and thought something along the lines of, "Oh? John Hawkes as a romantic lead? I'll take ten!"

It was only after that I read up on what I'd be seeing on over the weekend. Written and directed by Ben Lewin, The Sessions is based on the autobiographical article by Mark O'Brien, On Seeing a Sex Surrogate. Stricken by polio at a young age (as was Lewin), O'Brien seeks to live his life to the fullest, graduating from university even while being confined to a gurney with his only limited use of his head and neck available to him. At the age of 38 though, thinking he's getting close to his "expiry date", he decides he'd like to lose his virginity. As a deeply religious man, he feels it necessary to consult a priest (William H. Macy) in order to proceed with a clear conscience. After some deliberation, Father Brendan gives O'Brien the go-ahead, believing the man upstairs will give the poet/writer/journalist a free pass on extra-marital sex. It's at this point that Helen Hunt enters the picture, as the article's titular sex surrogate.

It's not difficult to see why The Sessions won big at Sundance, including a prize for ensemble acting; the film is made by the performances within it. John Hawkes gives an Oscar-worthy turn as Mark O'Brien, managing to give a natural, warm, riveting performance with only the (limited) use of his face. His body too, is a sight to behold, twisted upward with the use of a contraption dubbed onset as the "torture ball". It's the type of performance that invites attention from the Academy, yet doesn't scream "HEY YOU. GIMME AN OSCAR. LOOK HOW OSCAR-WORTHY I AM." Helen Hunt too, gives her best performance in many an outing. It seems a bold portrayal initially, getting her gear off constantly. Yet it is noteworthy more so because of the restraint and maturity she projects, and the initial iciness she brings to a role that could have been all warmth and nurturing. Those are the two worthy of a poster, but a film doesn't win big for an ensemble with two good performances. Moon Bloodgood and Annika Marks as O'Brien's assistant/carers and Jennifer Kumiyama as a friend with Arthrogryposis who lends her bed all give great supporting turns. And of course, William H Macy is great. But then, his default state is probably usually somewhere in the "pretty great" area of description. His priest though, is understated while at the same time being darn funny. 

Back to the funnies though. Which is the one of the other really noteworthy things about The Sessions: it's as heartwarming and emotionally stirring as one would expect given the premise, but it's also incredibly funny. All the awkwardness and terror that so many would remember vividly from their first time "attempting full intercourse" with another human being is perfectly captured, to often hysterical result. The Sessions does this though without being crude or stepping into gross-out territory...which is no mean feat given how much ejaculation is involved. Apart from all the torture ball stuff, the emotional resonating, all that bizzo, John Hawkes should probably also be commended on his comedic timing.

Ben Lewin too, should be commended. He's made a - as much as I hate this phrase - life-affirming film, that urges all to live theirs to the fullest, and does it without being cheesy. It addresses O'Brien's Catholic guilt with regard to sex while managing to avoid casting a negative shadow on Catholicism. It's Oscar-worthy without Oscar-baiting, and moving without ever descending into schmaltz. Is there nothing this film can't do? I don't know. I do know this though: it's most definitely worth your while checking out when it inevitably gets a nation-wide release. 

4/5 

MIFF: V/H/S

Directors: Adam Wingard, David Bruckner, Ti West, Glenn McQuaid, Joe Swanberg, Radio Silence

I was hoping to be terrified. I was hoping that I'd barely make it home with my sanity intact out of every shadowy alleyway I'd be expecting doom and death and some sort of dark hellish creature to leap forth. Unfortunately, that was not to be the result of watching V/H/S.

At no point did I feel like I was on the verge of chundering up my pre-movie dumplings as a result of the pure, undiluted terror onscreen. While that's probably a good thing for those sitting around me, I found that fact to be a bit of a downer. A far more accurate description would be this: that V/H/S is at times genuinely, at times darkly hilarious, quite often very suspenseful, and while at times uneven, is definitely a welcome breath of fresh air to an increasingly stale genre.

V/H/S is an anthology of five short stories of horror, realised by as many directors, and held together by a flimsy premise about a bunch of petty criminals being hired to steal a VHS tape. "When you see it, you'll know" they're told, and so the obnoxious group of guys begin to rummage around a run-down old house. The creepy location also houses a dead guy seated in front of a bunch of TV screens, as well as (of course) a creepy-as-hell basement. They watch the tapes, stories unfold, we get terrified.

Given that V/H/S is of the increasingly popular "found footage" horror sub-genre, it's all a hand-held, shaky, dizzying affair. The opening ("Amateur Night") proves to be especially difficult to decipher, although it is true to the antics of a group of obnoxious creeps in their twenties. While the hand-held style will no doubt infuriate some, for the most part it's used pretty effectively within the shorts.

The content of the short stories themselves range from vampires to Halloween rituals to a cabin-in-the-woods massacre and a haunting captured entirely via Skype. They all feature stock-standard characters, and conventions of the horror genre. The guys out on the town, the honeymooning couple, four friends at a cabin, a Halloween turned sour. Conventions they may be, but each vignette manages to bring a refreshing spin to the well-worn characters and locations. A mood-shift, or a dark moment of wicked humour, or an intriguing use of the hand-held POV form; the directors involved all obviously know their horror, and what works.

A film comprising of six stories will inevitably be home to a couple of weaker links to sit alongside the gems. Happily, even those that inhabit the lesser positions of terror and effectiveness still manage to be entertaining, and bring something refreshing or inventive to the table. In an age where the horror genre is so prone to mediocrity and stupidity (not in the good way), that in itself is surely worth the price of admission. Hell, all six of the films did actually contain moments of real suspense. At times I even found myself peeking at the screen from within fingers while laughing at what was going on.

Even if I was able to get to sleep that night without a care in the world, I'd be lying if I said V/H/S was devoid of scares and the ol' sense of dread/impending doom. Particular standouts included the Radio Silence collective's spectacular Halloween haunted house romp 10/31/98, as well as Second Honeymoon, which manages to be equal parts suspenseful, surprisingly graphic, and darkly amusing. In addition to that, I found myself rather surprised at how unsettled I was by the deceptively simple Skype romp, That Sick Thing That Happened to Emily When She Was Younger.

V/H/S isn't likely to send hardened horror fans home with The Fear. It's also slightly too long. That being said though, it does give hope to lovers of the genre. It's inventive, refreshing, entertaining and smart. Even when it's not so great, it's pretty damn enjoyable, and better than much of what else is going in the horror world at the moment. It also made me hide behind my hands and put my knees up to my face a couple of times, something that certainly warrants consideration.

3/5

 

MIFF: Shut Up and Play the Hits

The first film to hit my eyes at MIFF '12 was akin to a great opening track of a kick-ass mix-tape. I think it was High Fidelity, where someone declared the opening track must be "a killer, an attention-grabber". That's a given of course, but as I tapped my foot and resisted the urge to have a little seated boogie, I couldn't help but make take note of how well Shut Up and Play the Hits ticked that particular box. In one fell swoop, Dylan Southern and Will Lovelace's documentary/concert film managed to be just the sort of exhilarating, poignant and highly enjoyable way I prefer to begin fortnights spent at the cinematorium.

Shut Up and Play the Hits chronicles the 48 hour period before and after the final LCD Soundsystem show. It's part funeral, part farewell party, and entirely a move very consciously orchestrated by the band's engine, James Murphy. Apart from the obvious inclusion of footage from the concert itself - at a sold-out Madison Square Garden - Southern and Lovelace also follow Murphy around during preparations for the gig, throughout the day after, as well documenting an interview with Chuck Klosterman. All the while however, Murphy doesn't address or acknowledge the camera. We watch him as he shaves, as he potters around his apartment, takes his adorable dog for a walk, visits a friend. Even the Klosterman interview which provides the film's narration, is filmed at times almost voyeuristically. As a result, one does end up wondering to what extent each shot was constructed and deliberate. Like the death/end/demise of LCD Soundsystem as a project, much of Shut Up and Play the Hits seems to be highly controlled. And like the at times melancholy and quite introspective lyrical content of Murphy's songs, it's all interestingly juxtaposed with the no-holds-barred exhilaration of their live performance (oh boy oh boy is it ever fun), as well as the moments in which Murphy's emotions in the day following bubble to the surface.

Obviously it helps that I've been a great fan of LCD Soundsystem for many years now. Hell, I very clearly remember watching the final concert, streamed live via Pitchfork.com. I was in my pyjamas (it must've been the early afternoon), chatting to a friend streaming it from London. He was at a hostel computer, I was at my parents' house, and LCD Soundsystem were ending their career at a sold-out Madison Square Garden. I recall consciously thinking that I was watching something special, something that would never ever happen again. Watching it on the big screen, sumptuously photographed with tracking shots and focus pulls - no buffering, or cries of "FUCKING LAG" - that feeling seemed to be creeping back.

I'd hazard to say that one doesn't need to be a fan of LCD to enjoy the musical segments of Shut Up and Play the Hits, but I'm obviously fairly biased. I've put their songs on mix-tapes for everyone from romantic interests to family members to a metal-loving pals. I'd put that down to James Murphy's propensity to make eloquent, mature, introspective, hilarious music. But you know, I am a fan. I'll say this much though, I found it difficult to keep myself (flying solo, of course) from dancing around in my seat, and by the film's close I'd long given up on trying to keep my feet from tapping. The concert captured is a worthy last hurrah - the crowd swarms beneath a huge disco ball, the band cut loose (Al Doyle in particular, never remains still and upright for more than a couple of seconds). It kind of makes you want to run out into the night and find a gig to attend and have an emotional attachment to. Highlights (for those of you playing at home) included "All My Friends", "Dance Yrself Clean", "Movement", a guest appearance by Reggie Watts, and the concert's closing number: "New York I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down". If it's in an indicator of how amped up I was after leaving the cinema, I sent a message to a friend that read: "GO SEE SHUT UP AND PLAY THE HITS. JAMES MURPHY IS A FUCKING BOSS. SO GOOD. GO SEE. GOGOGOGOGGOGO."

Murphy is a dynamic frontman, and makes for an intriguing, articulate and thoughtful protagonist. Via his interview with Klosterman, we see how thoroughly he's considered the reasoning behind ending the band, as well as his preoccupation with aging, his awareness and fondness of pretensions, his sense of humour. At the same time however, Klosterman often seems to have far more to say than Murphy himself on the band's trajectory and legacy. Perhaps it's the intellectualizing and the somewhat performative aspect of some scenes that make the instances in which Murphy sheds tears over the band's death surprisingly poignant and moving. As balloons fall from the roof, on the phone to a friend,  visiting the gear for a last time before it's all sold off are just a few instances.

Shut Up and Play the Hits is for fans of LCD Soundsystem. The same way someone unfamiliar with The Band might enjoy The Last Waltz because it's so damn entertaining and beautiful however, I'd put it out there that music fans in general are likely to get a kick out of LCD's funeral party. Shit, I hope my funeral's as much fun.

3.5/5 stars (As a fan, I'm tempted to bust out a 4/5)