Awards Season: Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy

Headlined by the glamorous Keira Knightley, the 2012 adaptation of Leo Tolstoy’s realistic Russian fiction ‘Anna Karenina’ has won, and been nominated for, several production-based awards. With Oscar nominations for its cinematography,  production design, and music; as well as a BAFTA for its costumes, Anna Karenina has dazzled on-screen. Freya Godfrey examines the difficult literature behind the glamorous movie…

In 2007, J. Peder Zane published an anthology, The Top Ten, in which writers pick their favourite books. The top of the top was Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. It is a literary masterpiece that transcends time and was so highly held by Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Vladimir Nabokov that both called it “flawless”. What makes it such a technical and critical success?

Anna Karenina, the eponymous protagonist, is a beautiful socialite in aristocratic Russia. She is married to a high-ranking government official, Karenin, but he shows little affection for her and she soon falls for Vronsky, a handsome, passionate cavalry officer. After a brief escape to Italy, the lovers return to Russia where Anna finds herself outcast from society. Tolstoy shows this most movingly when Anna finds her former friends turning their backs on her during a trip to the opera. In contrast, Vronsky is welcomed back by his social circle. In her desire to live only for love, Anna has lost everything but her beauty. Before long she becomes paranoid about Vronsky’s fidelity and her increasingly anxious and possessive nature pushes him away. Through his depiction of Anna’s tragic degeneration, Tolstoy suggests that the selfish pursuit of anything, even so pure a notion as love, is destructive.

Tolstoy makes it clear to the reader from the outset that the popular Anna is unsuited to her husband. Karenin is formal, respectable and projects an image of utter control. He has carefully crafted an image of himself as a cultivated and capable man, but it is only the image in which he is interested: he does not read poetry because he enjoys it but because he likes the appearance of it. Anna believes that one should be true to oneself, as Kitty says: “Be bad, but at least don’t be a liar, a deceiver!”, and it is this conviction that causes Anna’s increasing distance from Karenin.

Vronsky is not suited to Anna, either. She is initially attracted to the military image of him as brave and honourable but his military ways cause the couple’s demise. Indeed, at first he seems to place the same importance on love as she does: “they don’t know that without this love there is no happiness or unhappiness for us–there is no life.” However, Vronsky is not imaginative like Anna; he is so invested in maintaining his code of honour that he has lost his individuality to a strict sense of comradeship. Indeed, Tolstoy seems to suggest that the most suitable partner for Anna would have been her sister’s suitor, the sincere and emotionally intense Levin. Away from urbanity, Levin is Tolstoy’s portrayal of ‘natural man’. Whereas Tolstoy describes the beautiful rural environment at length, he ignores the urban environment almost entirely. Tolstoy suggests that city life is unforgiving, as demonstrated in the fact that relationships that take place here are unsuccessful whereas Levin and Kitty’s country home becomes the ideal setting for their happy marital life.

Tolstoy writes his novel in a simple, straightforward way, omitting metaphors or similes and instead trying to describe everything exactly as it is. Situated somewhere between realism and modernism, Tolstoy’s stream-of-consciousness narrative would later be emulated by the modernist writers Joyce, Woolf and Faulkner. Tolstoy’s decision to switch between characters’ thoughts allows us insight into each person’s point of view and even, in one chapter, that of Levin’s dog. The changing tone that this elicits gives the novel an interesting and unique quality.

The simplicity of style does not, however, mean that Anna Karenina is an easy read; all the characters are addressed in more than one way and most have nicknames, for example, Princess Darya Alexandrovna is also known as Dolly, Dasha, Dashenka and Dollenka. (They all seem to be related in some way, too: Levin marries Kitty, who’s the sister of Dolly, who’s the wife of Stiva, who’s the brother of Anna, who’s married to Karenin.) The reader also has to trawl through frequent political discussions on topics such as social hierarchy, education and agricultural reform. As a result there were times when I found the novel quite dense but I think that makes it even more rewarding.

Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina appeals to anyone regardless of age, era or gender due to the broad range of situations it introduces. Its opening is one of the most famous first lines in literary history; “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” and sets the standard for a novel that is consistently perceptive in its depiction of human nature.

By Freya Godfrey – Senior Reviewer
Ed. by Georgina Holland – Exeposé Online Books Editor

Awards Season: Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell

Fourth in our Awards Season series, the cinematic adaptation of David Mitchell’s ‘Cloud Atlas’ has polarised critics. Although nominated for various awards, including a Golden Globe for Best Original Score, the film has also appeared on Worst Film lists despite being one of the most expensive independent films of all time. Exeposé Screen Editor, Olivia Luder, takes a look at the book behind the film which required such a bulging budget…

There is a kind of book that can be reassuringly classed as ‘literary enough’. Think David Nicholl’s One Day, or Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, or any not-too-up-itself Ian McEwan. As I stood in Gatwick airport’s WHSmith this December, that is exactly what I was looking for. Thankfully, I plucked David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas off the shelf and it was perfect.

First things first – Cloud Atlas is an epic. Constructed of six separate tales, each distinct in style and genre, you’re unwittingly lead into a rabbit warren of mystery.

We begin with the 1850 diary of Adam Ewing, an American notary. Intrigue builds around his relationship with the ship’s doctor but just as things start to get interesting, we’re dragged into the letters of Robert Frobisher. Frobisher is a penniless English musician seeking to wrangle a job from a famous but aging composer. Intrigue builds up around his relationship with the composer’s wife, but just as things start to get interesting the story of Luisa Rey is thrust upon us. She’s an ‘80s tabloid journalist who begins investigating a new nuclear plant development. Intrigue builds around the depth of the corruption but just as things start to get interesting… you get the idea.

We then rattle through the stories of Timothy Cavendish, an elderly man comically trapped in a nursing home, Sonmi~451, an enslaved clone in the future, and Zachry, a man living in a primitive post-apocalyptic society. And that’s all before we hit the second half!

Being torn away from each story just as it’s about to hit its climax is incredibly frustrating but trust me, stick with it. I don’t want to spoil it but for every infuriating cliff-hanger in the first half, there’s a reasonable moment of pay-off in the second.

Though handling remarkably different stories, Mitchell maintains an uncanny sense of continuity. While the time-periods, circumstances and literary genres diverge wildly, themes, actions and even events reappear time and time again. The subject of power is particularly pervasive, often being at the root of a character’s motivations or the cause of their difficulties. This sense of overall reoccurrence gives the reader a kind of foresight that becomes quite unsettling; you know a character will probably suffer a certain fate, but don’t yet know how, where or why. There’s also this mysterious birthmark that appears on characters throughout, the symbolism of which toying successfully with my English Literature student brain.

Which brings me back to my opening remark about Cloud Atlas being ‘literary enough’. This isn’t excessively beautiful literature – there were no similes that moved me to tears – and the stories are all fairly straightforward and easily digested. Rather, it’s the way Mitchell threads the vastly divergent stories together that makes it so brilliant. I came away feeling as if I had learnt something about humanity… which is a lot to be said about a book I bought for holiday reading!

[poll id=”15″]

By Olivia Luder – Exeposé Online Screen Editor
Ed. by Georgina Holland – Exeposé Online Books Editor

Awards Season Review: Les Miserables

Image Credit: Universal Pictures

You may have heard about a little-known, barely publicised film, based on the musical that’s based on the book that’s based on the French Revolution: Les Misérables.

I watched the stage musical seven times in a row in order to prepare for this, but I wouldn’t exactly advocate doing the same; I’m sure you’re not all as fanatical about musicals as I am, and perhaps many of you are just going to see Gladiator fight Wolverine. Besides, it’s quite a bizarre experience going to see a film that you’ve never seen before and knowing 90 per cent of the script.

Now, I just feel I should warn you that I have never once cried at a film. Call it what you will: heartlessness, dehydration, a sign I’m a sociopath – all I know is that I never particularly find myself caring for the characters or the story enough to actually express emotion about them, no matter how many scenes are shot in the rain. Les Misérables changed that.

Anne Hathaway, in a three-minute continuous shot, not only brings back the dignity to I Dreamed a Dream that Susan Boyle took away, but gives what may well be the best performance of her life. Her role as Fantine is much bigger than the role in the musical, but with reason; she acts her little prostitute socks off, and it’s quite refreshing to hear her singing like someone dying would, rather than someone who’s had ten years of stage experience and thus a remarkably healthy throat considering how much blood they’re coughing up.

Every single cast member brought something new to the role and filled it with vitality that the stage version never could give. Stage productions have their own merits, but film allows for nuance that you just can’t get from row Z. Musical fans may have felt they didn’t get their ticket’s worth in belted-out notes, but the cast cried enough collective tears to fill at least a small mug, or perhaps an egg cup, and that’s enough for me.

The ensemble choir were seamlessly worked into the songs, and unlike the stage version, where there always seems to be one dodgy singer – the director’s niece, the conductor’s love child, etc. – the ensemble were wonderfully cast, so as to compliment and highlight the protagonists, rather than to grasp their 15 seconds of fame and belt the wrong note like their life depended on it.

I think we should all take a bit of time now to moon over Marius (Eddie Redmayne) and Enjolras (Aaron Tveit). Mmmmm. More on that later.

The barricade scenes were the most beautifully shot I’ve seen in a long time. Saturated reds, blues and blacks upon a canvas of white; the nerdy, arty film lover in me cried tears of happiness, and as the chorus gradually swelled into a rousing rendition of Do You Hear The People Sing, my inner choir girl joined in with the weeping.

However, those same scenes felt slightly jarring in their context – not just because the colour scheme changed from the warm tones of candlelight to stark, clean whiteness – but because we’re going from being so close to someone’s face that we can count their nose hairs to a massive wide shot where we can’t even see any nose hairs. But I would gladly sacrifice a whole lifetime of nose hair viewing for the beautiful colours. I know, right.

Going back to my earlier point about the sexy men, Eddie Redmayne completely surprised me by being the best damn Marius I’d ever seen. And he’s competing with Nick Jonas, so you know he’s got to be good. Witty sarcasm aside, though, his performance of Empty Chairs and Empty Tables was incredibly emotional and fantastically spot-on with the acting, if a little bit ruined at the end by more gratuitous shots of Cosette.

I’ve never liked Marius or Cosette – in the musical, they’re portrayed as naive, idealistic idiots that quite frankly deserve each other as they step over the back-stabbed corpses of the ones who love them just to have a quick snog from time to time. The script can’t exactly be changed, of course, so the film’s characterisation of the pair is the same, but for the first time, I didn’t want to strangle them both with the tricolore.

However, Tom Hooper clearly felt very strongly about these two wet blankets, giving them far too much screen time for characters whose main personality trait is being marginally less exciting than watching paint dry.

I would have preferred more Eponine, played excellently by the stellar Samantha Barks, cast straight from the stage version – rather than the somewhat pathetic version of Eponine we’ve seen in past productions, Barks’ take on the unrequited lover is cheeky, sassy but sorrowful inside. Her rendition of A Little Fall of Rain one of the most beautiful, heartfelt songs in the musical – was left out of the film’s official soundtrack. I could write another thousand words on how utterly wrong that is.

But I won’t.

Returning, happily, to Aaron Tveit, I felt his Enjolras was criminally deprived of screen time as much as Eponine. He’s a thousand times more of a hero than Marius, and about as much more interesting. Also, have I mentioned how pretty he is? Let’s not forget that.

Image Credit: Universal Pictures

Of course, I won’t say it was completely without major fault. The film suffers from teething problems for the first few minutes, with awkward camera angles leading the eye toward a rather interesting brick next to Russell Crowe’s shoulder rather than his face at one point, but this is quickly remedied as soon as the film hits its stride. Although the director, Tom Hooper’s affinity for close-up, handheld shots can sometimes feel a bit like overkill, it allows for some wonderful displays of acting, as seen in I Dreamed a Dream and A Little Fall of Rain.

It’s been mentioned a fair bit that Russell Crowe can’t act or sing. He’s not too bad, honestly, his performances just feel a bit limp, but for those expecting a wonderful, rich, chocolatey bass like on the stage, you’ll be somewhat disappointed by his wall-eyed, wooden rendition of Stars and Javert’s Suicide. Not to mention his bizarre parkour thing. I know it’s meant to be foreshadowing, but it just comes across as a bit juvenile – I half expected him to start frying ants with a magnifying glass and fingerpainting (that’s what kids these days do, right?)

Overall, I really did love the film. I know many people were disappointed, but this is because the stage version sets the bar so high that it’s impossible to do anything but fall short. There are plenty of tributes and similarities to the musical within the film, but there are directorial decisions that alter the original to suit the big screen.

So, yes, the film is not as good as the musical. There’s no Alfie Boe, no Lea Salonga, none of that magic you get from paying £30 to sit right at the back of the theatre and squint down £1 binoculars just to confirm that it is Gareth Gates playing Marius (God help us), but it doesn’t matter. This is a film, and it deserves to be appreciated for its own merits, and seen in its own light, not just the faded spotlight of the stage.

Kate Gray

Didn’t realise Les Miserables was originally a book by Victor Hugo? Hop over to the Books section to read their review of the literary masterpiece.

Awards Season: Les Misérables – Victor Hugo

Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables has inspired generations. Its theatrical adaptation has spent decades touring the West-End and its recent cinematic release has swept through this year’s awards season. With three Golden Globes, nine BAFTA nominations, and eight Academy Award nominations to name but a few, Freya Godfrey takes a look at the book that sparked such a torrent of creative adaptations. With so much material to work with, Freya focuses on the character of Valjean; Hugo’s moral figure, the crux of 365 chapters, and the man that inspired Hugh Jackman’s stunning performance on the silver screen…

Sharing its name with one of the longest-running plays in history and now an Oscar-nominated film, Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, in its original novel form, is often overlooked. Granted, its 365 chapters may put some people off, but for me, it is one of the greatest novels ever written.

Victor Hugo’s novel, in the briefest of summaries, follows the life of John Valjean, an ex-convict, as he struggles to create a life for himself despite his criminal background and the relentless efforts of police inspector Javert to recapture him. However, Hugo does not ‘follow’ Valjean in the conventional literary way. Instead, the novelist introduces a number of sub-narratives, only part way through which we realise that an apparently new character is in fact Jean Valjean. (Indeed, Valjean takes on five different aliases during the novel.) As well as this interweaving of narratives, Hugo entwines his story within a selection of essays. These essays take up almost one quarter of the book and have little connection with the story, instead serving to demonstrate either a moral point or Hugo’s extensive knowledge. However, I would argue that the most pertinent assessment that Hugo makes is not within his essays but through the story of John Valjean: a critique of the nineteenth century French justice system.

John Valjean was sentenced to five years in prison for stealing bread for his starving sister and her children: a menial and, dare I say it, well-meaning crime. Condemned to a further fourteen years imprisonment for repeated escape attempts, we meet Valjean recently released from prison for the first time in nineteen years. Unable to find work due to the yellow papers that identify him as a former offender, Valjean seeks refuge in the home of Bishop Myriel of Digne. Despite the kindness the bishop shows him, the influence of Valjean’s time as a convict is demonstrated in his attempt to steal the bishop’s silverware. Caught by the police and brought before the bishop, Valjean is surprised to hear the bishop telling the police that the silverware had been a gift and even admonishing Valjean for ‘forgetting’ to take his silver candlesticks. Overwhelmed by the compassion shown towards him, this scene acts as a catalyst for John Valjean who vows to live his life righteously from this point.

John Valjean may be an ex-criminal, but he is also the ultimate hero. He is courageous, loyal and strong. He saves the lives of three men, through each demonstrating his unusual strength and perseverance, and even possesses a James Bond-style weapon: a file concealed within a coin with which he escapes capture. However, police inspector Javert sees Valjean in the eyes of the law: a criminal who must be returned for prison. It is only when Valjean has the opportunity to kill Javert and chooses, instead, to set him free that the police inspector realises his internal dilemma: should he continue to pursue a man who has done nothing but good since his release from prison, or should he let him go free and ignore the justice system that is so decisively ingrained in his character?

The wandering epic that is Les Misérables introduces many unforgettable scenes, such as the tragic downfall of Fantine, the beautiful love story between Eponine and Marius and the fierce sense of nationalism expounded at the barricades of the French Revolution. Filled with passion and power, this novel certainly makes an impression on the reader and forces them to ponder their own moral position. As Hugo himself writes, ‘so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, there should be a need for books such as this.’, a statement with which I wholeheartedly agree.

To see what the Exeposé Screen team made of Les Miserables: http://xmedia.ex.ac.uk/wp/wordpress/?p=5693
By Freya Godfrey

Ed. by Georgina Holland – Exeposé Online Books Editor

What’s Hot on the Box: TV Previews

Senior Screen Reporter, Mia Nashe, presents the first in her new regular feature previewing the latest televisual treats…

Image Credit: BBC

Fancy a night in with the telly or iPlayer? Want to know what you’re watching before you get halfway through and realise it’s so crap a four year-old could have written it? If the answer to either of those questions is yes, read on…

New series to catch:

My pick of the week: Keenly anticipated by critics and Poliakoff fans alike, the five-part drama, Dancing on the Edge kicked off on Monday (yes, that’s this Monday), airing on BBC2, 9-10.30pm and continued on Tuesday, 9-10pm. For those who haven’t spied the adverts liberally dashed all over the BBC schedule for the past couple of weeks, here’s the gist: it’s a period human drama about a successful black jazz band performing in 1930s London. Written and directed by TV auteur Stephen Poliakoff, it also has several pleasantly familiar faces to recommend it, among them Merlin’s Angel Coulby. And if the adverts are anything to go by, it looks like a wonderfully glamorous thing to sink into at the end of a hard day’s studying.

Causing a very different kind of stir is the documentary series The Year of Making Love, which also starts on Monday, on BBC3, 9-10pm. I’m not usually one for documentaries, but I have to say, the intriguing experiment that this one plays out looks like a good bit of voyeuristic fun. Basically, some scientists want to find out if the compatibility criteria used by gazillions of matchmaking services actually work. So they figured the best way to do this would be to conduct an experiment, and have matched up a load of victi- I mean, singletons and followed them about with a camera for a year. Sounds like indulgently voyeuristic fun to me.

To get your hit of entertaining bitchy melodrama for the week, check out US musical drama series Nashville, which starts with a pilot episode on Thursday, on More4, at 10-10.55pm. The story focusses on the enmity of two female country music singers, forced to combine their experience and youth to succeed. It stars Hayden Panettiere (better known as Claire Bennett, for any fans of Heroes) and has been nominated for Golden Globes, so perhaps there’s more than meets the eye to this one.

Series 4 of critically acclaimed French crime drama series Spiral starts on Saturday, on BBC4, 9-10.45pm. Often compared to the hit series’ The Wire and The Killing, it is dark, chilling and set in a not so romantically portrayed Paris. Too late to jump on the bandwagon if you haven’t seen it before? Perhaps, but with the ecstatic reviews it’s been getting, it’s worth a shot.

The British Academy Film Awards – Kinda self-explanatory. But to save you the trouble of remembering to look up the exact time, etc. here are the details: Sunday, on BBC1, at 9-11pm.

Ongoing gems:

Blandings – a P.G. Wodehouse comedy of typically ridiculous genius, brought to life by its stellar cast, makes a delightful bitesize break from studying. Aired on BBC1, on Sundays, 6.30-7pm.

For a bit of light relief, Top Gear.  Aired on BBC2, on Sundays, 8-9pm

Call the Midwife – a gentle period drama set in the 1950s, in London’s East End, about a group of midwives going about their work in the community. The wonderful cast, admirable attention to period detail and well-crafted script make it a comfortably compelling watch. Aired on Sundays, on BBC1, 8-9pm.

Mr Selfridge – a vibrant, fast-paced period drama based on the founder of Britain’s first department store, Selfridges. Often compared to The Paradise. Well worth catching up on if you’ve missed it so far. Aired on Sundays, on ITV1, 9-10pm.

Ripper Street – one of the BBC’s ‘Original Drama’ offerings, this period crime drama puts me in mind of the modern Sherlock Holmes films serialised, with its (quite literally) punchy fast pace, action-packed plots, and gorgeously gritty aesthetic. Matthew Macfadyen makes a good careworn, but determined detective on the streets of Victorian London, and overall, it’s fairly gripping stuff. Aired on Sundays, on BBC1, 9-10pm.

 

Mia Nashe, Senior Screen Reporter

Awards Season: Django Unchained, a history steeped in blood

Quentin Tarantino’s latest blockbuster hit Django Unchained tracks the story of one slave turned bountyhunter as he searches for his wife and seeks revenge for the injustices that were brought upon them. The film may have been a cinematic success, with five Academy Award nominations and counting, but its plot comes from darker and more sinister sources. Olivia Johnson looks at the literary heritage of Django Unchained and the tradition of slave narratives that have influenced its style…

Poster for Tarantino’s “Django Unchained”

The cinematic power in Tarantino’s Django Unchained comes from its realistic and savage depiction of slavery in 19^th century America. Brutality, powerlessness, even self-racism – themes which pervade the film – are so moving and believable to audiences because they stem from authentic sources. Such difficulties are highlighted in the narratives of the slaves. Anyone moved by the film should also take the time to read some of the literature contemporary to the slave movement. The biographical slave narratives are the true testaments to a bloody and horrific culture and convey the raw pain of servitude.

Django’s rise from oppression is the crux of the film. At the beginning of the film, he is physically unchained by a man, Dr. King Schultz, who Django soon joins as his fellow bounty hunter. Yet, more appealing is Django’s retribution, which comes at the climax of the film. One man against several, he successfully defends himself using logic and skill in marksmanship, until he is forced to stop by threats made against his wife. At the very end, he once again relies on intelligence to revenge the death of his mentor and escape a free man.

The underlying theme, which is so attractive to audiences, is that physical strength and prowess in fighting is the ultimate tool to beating oppression. In many ways this was true; often, brute strength was the only means to power in a savage world. In the narrative of Frederick Douglass, the man is also forced to undergo a similar feat, beating his master in physical combat when he attempted to assault him. Such basic, savage acts draw the admiration of the reader because it is drenched in imagery of good versus bad. It is once again David against Goliath – though both may be matched in strength, prejudice against Douglass, as a slave, weighs him down considerably. When Douglass wins, the victory is as poignant and powerful to the readers as it must have been to the man himself.

The tragic and ironic depiction of self-racism is another powerful element in the film. Samuel L. Jackson’s portrayal of Stephen, the loyal house slave to plantation owner Calvin J. Candie reflects another, far more disturbing motif. Stephen is a visual manifestation of an “Uncle Tom”, an epithet which has come to depict a person who is excessively subservient to figures of authority, even to the extent that they become an active participant in the oppression of their own group. In the film, Stephen as an “Uncle Tom” serves his master to the detriment of Django and the household slaves; he condemns the slave Broomhilda’s attempts to escape, encourages her horrific punishment and is key in Django’s capture. The “Uncle Tom” stereotype came from spin-off works from Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Yet, ironically, the original character of Uncle Tom is very different.

Harriet Beecher Stowe: “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”

 

In Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the titular character is in fact show to be a martyr, who died by refusing to reveal the whereabouts of two women who escaped from slavery; an ironic reversal from the film’s depiction. Like the film, the book also depicts the savagery of slavery – the slaves are cruelly beaten, stripped of almost any identity and even forced to turn on each other. Yet, while Django Unchained conveys scenes of violence against, and between slaves, the protagonist is liberated from oppression, acting as his own agent for most of the film. The book contains the realistic horror of lives confined within claustrophobic quarters. However, the book’s conclusion does satisfy a modern audience to a certain extent. Tom is killed, life goes on, and the readers are filled with a grim acknowledgement of the transience of life in a world where the death of a slave is a common, justifiable occurrence. However, with the journey of two of the characters, Cassy and Emmeline, into Canada, the reader is left with a certain amount of hope and the certainty that Tom’s sacrifice was not in vain.

It is essential that each of us remember the horrors of slavery, which happened not too long ago, so that we do not repeat them. In the same sense, it is important to remember and mourn for a series of lost generations, as well as to acknowledge, even admire, the attempts by individuals like Frederick Douglass to overcome oppression. However, in terms of enjoyment, it has to be said that Django Unchained is far more satisfying as a form of entertainment than many of the slave narratives because it provides us with something they cannot; a cathartic, albeit unrealistic, ending. Tarantino forces us to uncover and remember the brutal past, yet with the victory of the protagonist at the end of the film, exorcises those shadows.

To see what Exeposé Online Screen made of Django Unchained, follow this link:

By Olivia Johnson – Exeposé Online Books Editor
Ed. by Georgina Holland – Exeposé Online Books Editor

Awards Season Recap: The Golden Globes

Image credit: Shadowlocked.com

The 2013 annual Golden Globe awards proved as dramatic and enthralling as the features that were nominated. From the witty banter of co-hosts Tina Fey and Amy Poehler to the risqué jokes and emotional speeches, the night proved no less controversial than the previous years’ awkward hosting skills of Ricky Gervais.

Amongst the British victors was Daniel Day-Lewis who won Best Actor for his portrayal of the iconic President Lincoln. His performance was undoubtedly award worthy and further credited as the panel of the HFPA wasn’t entirely American!

Adele was also a winner in the original film song category for her anthem Skyfall. It was a great accolade for the singer but unfortunately the only nomination for the British film which still scores an impressive 92% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Once again, Damien Lewis was awarded for his leading role as fantastically ambiguous Nicholas Brody in the popular TV show Homeland and Maggie Smith finally won the award for her supporting role in Downton Abbey, something that had escaped her last year but was no less deserving of this year.

Other winners of the night included Ben Affleck who picked up Best Motion Picture and Best Director for his film Argo, but it was Les Miserables who proved the most successful. In total the film swept up 3 awards: Hugh Jackman, whose vocal and acting performance eliminated all other contenders, won the Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy whilst Anne Hathaway deservedly won Best Supporting Actress against Hollywood heavyweights Nicole Kidman and Sally Field.

Additionally,  the film won the award for the Best Motion Picture in the Musical or Comedy category. It’s difficult to predict whether this is a trend that will continue to the Oscars, especially considering the Academy’s tendency to ignore box office successes.

In other categories, Jessica Chastain, rising star from 2011’s The Help, won her first major award of Best Actress in a Motion Picture for her gritty performance in war thriller Zero Dark Thirty while Claire Danes reclaimed the award for Best Actress in a TV drama for her performance as the psychologically unstable Carrie Mathison in the ever successful Homeland. Surprisingly, it also won the award for Best TV Series for the second year running.

The night’s drama, however, was not only reserved for the performances on-screen as presenters and winners alike provided entertainment for the estimated audience of 19.7 million.

For starters, Sacha Baron-Cohen’s presentation of the Best Animated Feature Film has been cited by some as an audition for next year’s ceremony. He casually quipped at the likes of Anne Hathaway for her embarrassing skirt malfunction last month and Daniel Day-Lewis for his achievement in “growing a beard” for his acclaimed portrayal of President Abraham Lincoln to the timid laughter of the crowds.

However, surprisingly it wasn’t a likely Hollywood star who stole the limelight of the evening, but the notoriously private Jodie Foster. In her acceptance speech upon receiving the Cecil B. DeMille Award for lifetime achievement, she moved the audience in a rejoicing assertion of her sexuality. Whilst promising that “there won’t be a big coming out speech” she described how she did her coming out in “those very quaint days when a fragile young girl would open up to trusted friends and family and co-workers and then gradually, proudly to everyone who knew her, to everyone she actually met” before continuing to explain how she had never before conformed to the norm of celebrity and announced it publicly.

Whilst many famous faces took to twitter to applaud her, including the likes of Rosie O’Donnell and fellow award winner Lena Dunham, it was criticised by some as too little too late, suggesting The Silence of the Lambs actress could have paved the way for young gay people rather than hiding behind pioneering others.

Many view the Golden Globes as the warm up to the Oscars. The inclusion of TV and the comedy sub categories, along with the shorter tradition of the ceremonies all contribute to the perception of the Golden Globes as less prestigious. Tina Fey and Amy Poehler presented well, balancing carefully the line of appropriateness and the sharp humour they are famous for in their TV show 30 Rock.

The 85^th Academy Awards will be presented by Seth Macfarlane and as a comedian more likely to push the limits of comedy, he is a risky choice. Despite this, his previous attempt at hosting at last year’s Emmy’s, in spite of an awkward microphone malfunction, was surprisingly successful. It’s difficult to predict whether his controversial humour will suit the Oscars but the audience of celebrities will most likely be sitting with trepidation…

Emily Leahy

Awards Season: Life of Pi – Yann Martel

Its on-screen adaptation has taken the world of cinema by stormy, with 11 award nominations under its belt already, reviewer Freya Godfrey takes a look at the book behind the film: Martel’s Booker Prize winning “Life of Pi”. This is a tale of cinematic beauty, magical surrealism, and a questioning of faith and belief by a young boy, and a tiger.

Life of Pi was originally recommended to me by my maths teacher. Due to this, the mathematical symbol  in the title and the fact that it has exactly 100 chapters, I anticipated an intellectually stimulating but ultimately boring read. Stimulating it may be, but it could never be called dull. Yann Martel fills his unique novel with spectacular imagery and extraordinary events to create his captivating depiction of a boy’s struggle for survival.

The novel follows the story of Piscine Patel, nicknamed Pi; a sixteen year old Indian boy brought up on his parents’ zoo in India. Deciding to sell their zoo and emigrate to Canada, Pi’s family and a selection of their animals board a cargo ship. When their freighter gets stuck in a storm and capsizes, the animals escape from their enclosures, leading to a wonderfully chaotic scene in which the beasts slip and stumble around the ship. Amazingly, Pi is able to escape in a small lifeboat, but it is not the refuge he hopes for: also finding shelter is a spotted hyena, a zebra, an orang-utan and, most worryingly, a Bengal tiger. Pi must provide for the tiger, named Richard Parker, whilst protecting his own life. Stranded in the Pacific ocean for 227 days, Pi has to rely on his raw survival instincts to stay alive.

The storyline may seem utterly unbelievable, but it is this magical realism that makes the novel so exciting. Yann Martel weaves surreal elements with a realistic, matter-of-fact style of narrative that enables him to give the events that he describes a plausible life. I even found myself accepting the descriptions of a carnivorous algae-covered island, which is inhabited by meerkats. The sense of survival, the human capacity to adapt and persevere, and Pi’s strong sense of spirituality, is what drives this novel. In the early chapters, we find out that Pi does not conform, traditionally, to one religion. The region in which he lives is a hybrid of Christian, Hindu and Muslim faiths: Pi finds himself identifying with all three. Through Pi’s journey, Martel questions the nature of religion and spirituality and blurs the line between reality, belief and fantasy in his truly inventive story.

Although for some Life of Pi could be a little too surreal, the beautiful images it conjures and the author’s focus on faith in humanity’s capacity to endure make it one of the most imaginative and inspiring novels I have ever read

Click here to read Exeposé Screen’s review of the Life of Pi film.

Review by Freya Godfrey
Ed. by Georgina Holland – Exeposé Online Books Editor