As the Festival reaches its final weekend, we reflect on
the diversity of programming we’ve had the good fortune of attending
thus far. From prison-set Shakespeare productions to convent exorcisms,
remote Inuit villages to Argentinian slums, the variety has been marked
and welcome. But the films we’ve seen all had one thing in common: shown
in cinemas, one and all. What’s with that? Sure, the pews of Glasgow’s
picture-houses are comfortable, their screens sizable and their sound
veritably surrounding. But by this phase of the festival we’ve got a
hankering for something less conventionally staged, for which Dead Calm at the Tall Ship neatly fits the bill.
Admittedly, the naval novelty of spending an evening in a
boat’s cargo hold loses a little of its appeal in the run up to the
event, thanks to our decision to watch A Hijacking (an intense
drama in which a Danish freighter is held ransom for several fraught
months) the day before. But while the memory of despondent and terrified
hostages cowering below deck creates some unpleasant associations in
our mind, we steel our resolve by remembering a couple of salient facts:
a) Somali pirates tend to focus on open-water shipping vessels rather
than Clydeside tourist attractions; b) in contrast to A Hijacking’s
captives, we’re unlikely to have to relieve ourselves in buckets, what
with tonight’s event lasting 96 minutes rather than 130-odd days.
A plan to walk to the evening’s floating venue very nearly backfires when we arrive at what we thought
was the location of the Tall Ship, only to find the area Tall Ship-less
(say what you like about bricks and mortar cinemas; at least they stay
put…). With only a few minutes to spare, we use the handful of clues at
our disposal to cleverly track down the errant barque: a solid
description (a ship, of above average height), and some pretty
unequivocal signage that points us in the direction of the Glenlee’s new
home at the Riverside Museum (we say ‘new’: we later discover it’s been
docked there since 2011, and make a mental note to pay more attention
to, well, everything).
A friendly crew welcomes the audience on-board and guides
us down into the hold – an agreeably atmospheric environment for a film
that, for all its daftness, still musters up a fair bit of sticky-palmed
tension. Dead Calm is one of four nautical flicks to be shown at the Tall Ship, the others being animated kids favourite Peter Pan, Hebridean plunder-com Whisky Galore and taut proto-blockbuster Jaws. With
several of the other screenings having sold out well in advance, it’s a
slight surprise to find attendance for tonight’s showing relatively
light – almost as if Disney, Ealing and Spielberg have a wider appeal
than a wild-eyed Billy Zane. Zane chews kraken-sized portions of ham as
an adrift amateur sailor with a (literally) fishy tale, intruding on a
grieving couple’s quiet oceanic getaway with claims that his ship’s crew
have all carked it from eating dodgy tinned salmon. A galley full of
dismembered corpses indicates a somewhat more violent cause of death for
the sadistic seaman’s erstwhile cabin mates, and before long he’s
dropped the innocent act and commenced menacing his new victims. A young
Nicole Kidman spends most of her time running from one end of the yacht
to the other, while an increasingly manic Zane rants and glowers before
finally eating a flare. Subtlety is not, it’s fair to say, amongst the
film’s finer qualities, but there’s fun to be had in its overwrought
company. Particularly striking is Graeme Revell’s score, a mix of
ominous orchestral swells and percussive breathing that proves an
effective tension-builder (even if it’s not best served by the Glenlee’s
non-optimum acoustics). The open ocean setting, meanwhile, is superbly
claustrophobic, its vastness creating a stifling sense of isolation. But
all that pales next to the true star of the show: a door-opening dog
with an unfortunately strong fetching instinct, whose unjustly
ignominious demise prompts a ripple of sniggers.
As we exit over the gangplank, we overhear* plans for next year’s slate: Hitchcock’s Lifeboat,
during which a strict no-talking policy will be enforced by threats of
being rounded on and prodded overboard; an ambitious joint collaboration
with Blair Drummond Safari Park that promises a Life of Pi screening to remember; and finally, a deliberate scuttling designed to bring a wet-toed realism to a rereleased The African Queen. See you there!
* make up
No comments:
Post a Comment