Martin Cuff Consulting

Endgame : crikey. In the post-World Cup euphoria, it really is just too easy to forget quite how far we’ve come.

Endgame is a real-life political thriller that charts the efforts of Michael Young, unlikely hero, to facilitate secret talks between the bitterest of enemies: the ANC government-in-exile and members of the Afrikaner elite. Against a backdrop of brute violence, thuggish intimidation, smuggled correspondence, surveillance, counter-espionage, and the bullish extremism of members of both groups, Young’s idealistic negotiations uncovered a mutual sense of humanity and respect that ultimately resulted in the unbanning of opposition parties, the release of Nelson Mandela (belated happy bday, Madiba), dismantling of apartheid and the birth of the miraculous, unlikely, vibrant nation of modern South Africa.

So: “crikey” was what went through my mind all the way through the film. I kept wanting to grab the air stewardess and say “Did you see this? Have you seen this?” and share my amazement and excitement. I’m not sure if it’s actually great cinema, but I found it powerful, personal and passionate – and I’m increasingly believing that that is in fact what great cinema’s about. If you’re South African, it’s a must-see.

Endgame – shot and beautifully brushstroked in drained, grainy, 80’s home-movie style – jumps from South Africa, to the ANC hq in Lusaka, to London, with the stand out location being the elegant Mells Park near Frome in Somerset, where the meetings took place (though this was actually shot somewhere in Berkshire – I’m trying to find out where.) There’s a scene on the rugby field at Stellenbosch High School too; that one I recognised for myself.

I didn’t say I’d been doing NO film watching…… in fact I’ve been glued to the small screen for all 22 servings of Glee. Call me a complete Big Girl’s Blouse, but Talent this good makes me weepy. Sorry: completely true.

I just read a remarkable book, Selling Your Father’s Bones, by a young British writer called Brian Schofield. It charts the onslaught waged by mega-corporations from London and Boston, against the “free” land and resources of the American West. Within mere decades the homelands of the Nez Perce and others were stripped of lumber and buffalo (and thus topsoil), poisoned by the arsenic used in mining, the rivers were dammed and the salmon runs destroyed. The book is brilliantly written; witty, insightful, utterly alive with scathing righteousness.

I mentioned this because The River Wild has been running on TV here – Meryl Streep does Action Woman. (Yes, there is nothing this woman cannot do.) It’s an action adventure thriller about a group of crooks who interrupt a family white water rafting holiday to make their getaway from a robbery and put everyone in dire peril. In part, the movie shot along the Kootenai River in Montana, lands I seem to recall that the Nez Perce passed through on their desperate flight to the Canadian border. Interestingly, this part of the river is on lands sacred to the Kootenai Indians who gave permission to film for the very first time on condition that the actual location, near Libby in the far northwest of the state, would not be revealed. The Libby website says drily of the river:

Libby Dam, completed in 1972, altered the river by controlling both the timing and volume of flow, as well as nutrient and sediment loading, affecting the aquatic ecosystem above and below the dam. Some species have thrived under these conditions, while others have suffered…..

If you’re one of those people who’s depressed about the demise of Pandora in Avatar, then you’ve really got to look no further than our own back yard.

OK, I’m back in the saddle after a marvellously lazy Christmas break; the grand total of my efforts being 1. opening the wine (thank heavens for screwtops) 2. rolling to the pool 3. nope, that’s about it.

So since the spectacular Avatar, I’ve not seen any movies except a few Almodovar oldies on dvd – but I’ve been reading books; Going Dutch, about the military invasion of Britain in 1688 that’s since been spun as the Glorious Revolution, Nathaniel’s Nutmeg by Giles Milton, about the Spice Wars of the 1600’s and the unlikely land swop (Manhattan for the tiny island of Run – say what??), the latest Kathy Reichs, a Swedish zombie novel, a dreadful, dreadful Scarpetta (I will read no more Patricia Cornwell, and I just don’t care that Lucy’s a goddam lesbian) as well as a History of the Balkans. I’ve a few movies in mind for the weeks ahead though.

As for 2010 itself, it promises to be a busy one again – back to Serbia in Feb, Locations Trade Show in LA in April, Cannes in May, FIFA Soccer World Cup in June & July, England in August, Serbia in September again…….. So, happy New Year.

Caught this briefly on CNN: Andy Garcia is in Tbilisi this week, playing President Saakashvili in Renny Harlin’s “anti-war” movie Georgia.

This story from the UK Independent sites “fears that it could be a vehicle for the Georgian government’s version of events,” a view it says is reinforced by the fact that the government has put public buildings and military units at the disposal of the film-makers. Actually, the Georgian National Film Center has made great progress in getting the government to understand the need for film-friendliness. In fact, I like to think that one of the last meetings the former Minister of Defence held before the attempted mutiny back in May was with us, where he agreed in principle to a Military Film Liaison office. It’s our hard work (ok, as well as maybe, a leetle bit of propaganda….) Anyway, I’m actually I’m pretty pleased with the outcome:

The crowd, mainly made up of families and young people, dutifully cheered on cue, and looked on with amazement at the way the centre of their city had been turned into a massive movie set. With a budget of some $32m (£19m), this is the biggest film ever produced in Georgia, and many had come just to watch the spectacle.

By The Duchess I do not refer to the awful, trashy Fergilicious (note to Fergie: London Bridge does not go down. Or up. It does not move), but rather the film of the same about Lady Georgaina Spencer. Starring the wonky-eyed Keira Knightley, the movie concerns the bright seventeen year old contracted off into marriage as the Duchess of Devonshire. He, unfortunately is a treacherous, hypocritical, icy old cad (Ralph Fiennes) and for the next two hours he proceeds to make her upper-crust life a misery.

To be honest, I only watched the film because if shot at Holkham Hall just down the road from where I grew up. There’s a marvellous entrance hall that looks like it was tiled with Guerlain chocolates which appears a lot in the movie. There’s more behind the scenes stuff here.  I’d had lunch with Ralph Fiennes the day before too, so that was somewhat bizarre. But is it a good film? Well it’s sumptuous and it’s pretty well acted, but I couldn’t work up the interest to care: poor little rich girl. If you’re really interested in the dull trauma of unhappily-arranged marriages, read Monica Ali’s Brick Lane.

I’m fascinated by the colonial experience. My particular interest is the lives (and mind set) of colonists. From Roanoke, to the First Fleet, to the Welsh in Patagonia, to Rhodesia, to the American West, I am astounded that men and women moved their families across continents to re-build their lives in hostile environments. What the hell were they thinking?!? The fact that a great many of those (uninvited) colonists took it upon themselves to dominate the political landscapes of their adoptive homes simply amazes me. Anyway, the reason I recount this is that my history-geek self sat myself down in front of The Alamo the other night, not because the event marks an integral part of America’s somewhat distorted and spin-happy vision of itself, but because of the quirky colonial Texican backstory.

Basically – as the movie painstakingly sets out – American colonists in Texas (then a part of Mexico) didn’t like the central government and revolted. A small group of folks – including Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie – were trapped at a fortified mission station and anihilated by the Mexican Army for their insurrection. It was only in the aftermath of the bloodbath that American forces from the north defeated the Mexicans and Texas joined the Union.

Criticism of the movie when it came out was scattershot – people loved it or hated it. It completely tanked at the box office. I thought the pacing was off, but otherwise it was solid enough. Billy Bob Thornton as Crocket is particularly nuanced, and Jordi Molla’s melancholic presence reiterates the fact that this wasn’t ever really an American struggle. Perhaps that’s why it tanked.

From a locations point of view, the producers actually constructed an accurate replica of the Alamo Mission – and the entire city of San Antonio de Behar – on Milton Reimers Ranch on the Pedernales River, just outside Austin. The good news for film tourism buffs is that the site was purchased with voter-approved bond funds in 2006, and is now part of the Travis Park system.

I love an intelligent ad. This for a financial show on the global recession running on BBC World. On tv it’s soundtrack is a plinky, surreal version of Bowie/Queen “Under Pressure.” Classy.

District 9 finally opened in South Africa. What a bizarre experience: watching a Hollywood movie play out with South African accents and attitudes and familiar locations. Even the movie’s star, Sharlto Copley, is a friend of mine, and though I can be accused of bias for saying so, he’s really astoundingly good in this. The film’s pretty remarkable too; what an imaginative youngster can do with $30 million.

District 9 begins twenty years ago, with first contact with a massive alien mother-ship that’s come grinding to a halt over Johannesburg, South Africa. The ship’s survivors are mostly the thought-challenged worker drones of a colony of insect-like bi-peds – the locals call them “Prawns” – who are forced into an apartheid-style squatter camp, fifth class citizens of a country still rather keen on group classifications. All expectation of sophisticated alien technology, advanced science, superior weaponry, has not materialised, and the government is left performing bland cruelties on the visitors – there’s real, casual, thoughtless violence in describing how the aliens’ eggs pop when they’re set alight. The tag-line: You are not welcome here. Competing for scarce resources with the poorest of the poor, it’s clear that the aliens must be evicted, and in apartheid-style, worthy Afrikaner bureaucrat Wikus van der Merwe is charged with moving them on to a new, “improved” concentration camp. Which is when it all starts to go wrong…..

The movie’s title references the forced removals of District 6 in Cape Town, which still scars the city to this day, but there actually was a Region 9 in Johannesburg, an administrative district from 2000 to 2006. Situated in the south-eastern corner of of the city, to the north it met the Inner City along the Mining Belt and the M2. To the east and south, it formed the boundary of Johannesburg. Its neighbours to the west were Region 10, the Diepkloof/Meadowlands region of Soweto and Region 11, Ennerdale/Orange Farm. The region was abolished with a reorganistion of regions in 2006.

Brimming over with integrity, kindness, wit, moral outrage and moral authority; a class act. (And that’s just the movie.)

Thank you Harvey Milk. For everything, really.