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The
Alan Clarke Collection
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Scum
(BBC)
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8 |
Scum
(Theatrical)
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7 |
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Made in Britain
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8 |
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The Firm |
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9
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9 |
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DVD
Rating is for
entire set
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Guest
Review by Troy
Howarth |
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Born
in 1935, British director Alan Clarke made his mark with a series
of gritty, socially conscious dramas for the BBC. Blue Underground's
commendable box set celebrates Clarke's legacy by rounding up
some of his most significant films.
Scum (BBC Version,
1977): A harsh indictment of British juvenile prisons, this
focuses on a group of young misfits and the problems they experience
in jail.
Notorious as the film Clarke made for the
BBC that ended up being banned, Scum
still holds up as a powerful commentary on the British penal
system. Though not especially "rough" in its violence — a rape
scene, for instance, is handled in a way that avoids bad taste
eroticism — the film was not well received by the censors of
the time and has only been released in recent years. At the
film's core is a natural, vivid performance from Ray Winstone
(Last Orders, Sexy
Beast). Cast as one of the rejects of Thatcher's England,
Winstone evokes considerable sympathy and handles the various
dramatic arcs of his character exceedingly well. Initially determined
to "play the game" and get his prison time over as quickly as
possible, he ends up becoming a petty thug when he is pushed
too far. The scene in which he essentially "proposes" to a fellow
inmate, desperate as he is for intimate companionship, but all
the while proclaiming his heterosexuality is a scene that would
give many young actors pause — but he plays it brilliantly,
with a slight hint of ironic humor, but essentially striking
at the heart of the aching loneliness and isolation of his character.
The remainder of the cast — all virtually unknown in the U.S.
— also performs very well, and Clarke's use of mobile but very
clinical camerawork gives the piece the feel of a documentary.
A few shocking, but again subtly rendered, set-pieces to one
side, it seems more than a little ridiculous that the film should
have been banned. But banned it was, thus leading us to...
Scum (Theatrical
version, 1979): Irate over the BBC's decision to shelve Scum,
Clarke rounded up some funding and made a new version of the
same script for the big screen. The end result is less effective
than the original, for while it is more graphic in some respects,
it makes some changes for the worse when compared to the BBC
version. Gone is the subplot of the protagonist (again played
by Winstone) recruiting a "wife," and while many of the scenes
are staged virtually identically to the BBC counterpart, it
lacks the edginess that made the original so effective. Only
a scene depicting the suicide of one of the inmates is handled
more effectively than in the original, less because it is more
graphic than because the scene is played more for understated
sympathy than out-and-out shock value as in the original. Taken
on its own terms, this version of Scum is very effective — indeed,
if one had never seen the original, it would shine all the more
brightly — but presented, as it is, after the superior BBC version
it seems a little stale.
Made in Britain
(1982): A violent, foul-mouthed skinhead (Tim Roth) wreaks havoc
as he willfully heads down a path towards self-destruction.
Best known now as the film debut of Tim Roth
(Reservoir Dogs, Pulp
Fiction) — and what a film debut it is, by the way —
Made in Britain is another of Clarke's
carefully rendered studies of social maladjustment in "jolly
old England." The central figure of Trevor (brilliantly played
by Roth) represents the other directionless, willfully destructive
youths that have fallen outside the scope of (then Prime Minister)
Margaret Thatcher's reform movements. He is neither a hero nor
a villain — while a product of a corrupt society, Clarke doesn't
paint him with a sympathetic eye. Trevor is "hate" personified:
foul-mouthed, short-tempered, bigoted and irritatingly cocksure.
Sooner than take a phony approach and go about reforming him,
Clarke very honestly focuses on what is likely to remain a cycle
of hatred and destruction that no well-meaning social worker
will be able to cure. The spare use of frantic punk music by
The Exploited coupled with Clarke's trademark use of mobile
camerawork and disintegrating locations gives the film a sense
of reality that is way above simplistic moralizing. In short,
the film's intention is neither to condemn nor condone Trevor,
but rather to simply show him for what he is — and, implicitly,
to raise awareness that there are a lot of "Trevors" out there.
The Firm (1988):
Bex (Gary Oldman) is an average family man who just happens
to be the head of a violent gang of soccer hooligans. As the
competition between his gang and a rival group escalates, Bex's
family life begins to fall apart...
Perhaps the best film in the set, The
Firm is a fascinating character study galvanized by Gary
Oldman's central performance. The central thesis of ordinary
people who lead side lives dominated by acts of violence and
rage lends itself to some fascinating set-pieces — we see Bex
going from the mundane chores of his job as a real estate agent
to spending time with his family to thoroughly losing his calm
exterior and indulging in frightening acts of violence. Like
Scum and Made
in Britain, The Firm exposes
another side of England that has commonly been overlooked and/or
ignored. The "soccer hooligan" phenomenon has opened itself
to plenty of jokes and parody, but Clarke shows it in its roughest
form: the way in which, unchecked, it can escalate out of control
and destroy people's lives. That the film works as well as it
does is due in no small measure to Oldman, who makes Bex work
as a three-dimensional human being; the fact that Clarke allows
him the opportunity to play a loving father, husband and all-around
caring family man makes his "side life" all the more shocking
and engrossing. An actor not exactly noted for his restraint
(in recent years, much of his work has verged on self-parody),
Oldman gives one of his finest performances and helps to elevate
The Firm to the number one spot
in The Alan Clarke Collection.
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Blue
Underground's release of The Alan Clarke Collection is
one of their finest to date. Not only have they rounded up a terrific
collection of films, heretofore pretty much unknown in the U.S.,
but they've rounded out the package with some stellar extras.
Scum (BBC Version) contains two audio
commentaries. The first features producer Margaret Matheson and
stars Phil Daniels and David Threlfall, while the second (limited
to selected scenes) features star Ray Winstone. The former is
the more informative, with Matheson holding forth on the controversy
that greeted the film and plenty of other anecdotes. Scum
(Theatrical Version) features a feature-length commentary with
Ray Winstone which starts off well but peters out by the end of
the film; it's still worth a listen, though Winstone's thick accent
may be tricky for some to decipher. An interview segment with
producer Clive Parsons and writer Roy Minton sheds further light
on the inception of the project, and a theatrical trailer and
poster and still gallery is also provided. Made
in Britain also features two commentaries — the first is
with Tim Roth, and the second features producer Matheson and writer
David Leland. Both tracks contain a lot of valuable information
about the film and Clarke's general approach to filmmaking. An
"archive interview" with Roth and a poster/still gallery round
out the disc. The Firm, sadly, features
nothing but a still gallery. However, more special features await:
Elephant (1988) and Director: Alan Clarke (1991).
The former (which made the news recently due to the confusion
over Gus Van Sant's new film of the same title) is a fascinating,
almost dialogue-free account of eighteen politically-motivated
killings in Northern Ireland. Only 39 minutes in length, it doesn't
qualify as a feature, but the cold, distant approach as Clarke's
typically mobile camera charts one murder after another gives
the film a peculiar emotional impact. An audio commentary with
producer Danny Boyle (Trainspotting,
28 Days Later) and interviews with
Gary Oldman, David Hare and Molly Clarke are also included. Director:
Alan Clarke, on the other hand, is a nicely produced documentary
about the renegade filmmaker, who died in 1990 of cancer. Interviews
with Clarke and his collaborators are interspersed with clips
from his work, making one anxious that more of his groundbreaking
work for the BBC (or indeed his scant theatrical work) will make
it to DVD.
In terms of the physical presentation of the
films themselves, BU has done as good a job as can be expected.
With the exception of the theatrical edition of Scum,
the remaining films were shot on 16mm for the BBC. All the films
are in good shape, though it comes as no surprise that there is
some heavy grain in the BBC titles. The theatrical version of
Scum is presented in the 1.66 aspect
ratio (enhanced for widescreen TVs), with the options of a 5.1,
2.0 or mono soundtracks. The remaining titles are in fullframe,
with only their original mono soundtracks. Audio quality is perfectly
acceptable, with no damage or distortion, but be warned: these
films make use of a lot of British slang expressions, and the
actors frequently have very thick accents, so it is advisable
to make use of the English subtitles provided. 9/24/04 |
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