Coriolanus (2011)

Artwork for Theatrical Release.

Very few people have the diligence and patience to do cinematic justice to Shakespeare, and this is even more true with one of the lesser known plays.  Which is why we have a thousand versions of 'Hamlet,' but only a few of Coriolanus.

If you are used to Kenneth Branagh's Shakespeares and their smooth, polished, traditional approach to visuals and narrative, then this film will pleasantly surprise you.

And that's the point.

It is not as perfect as one would have liked having been used to Branagh, but then again, this is Raph Fiennes.  Fiennes, in his directorial debut, manages to make Shakespeare feel immediate and contemporary, not just in subject matter and approach, but also in aesthetics and themes.

I have not been this thrilled or as excited watching Shakespeare since Julie Taymor's Titus (1999) showed me Shakespeare's sadistic, horrific side in the most visually pleasing way possible.

I hate the phrase; but now-a-days (blah) it seems like when you want to capture action, cinematographers automatically reach for the Steadicam, and air on the side of shaky compositions.  It pisses me off to no avail, because often they're really covering up for weak choreography or overdoing the intensity of the action, so that ultimately the audience can follow little of the real narrative, which ultimately is the purpose.

I see you there hiding behind your Steadicam operator Michael Bay [The Island (2005)].

You're fooling no one!

Coriolanus manages to dissuade this notion, with carefully orchestrated synchronicity between traditional fare and some of its more contemporary brethren.  The camera work is great, static with imaginative compositions when needed, handheld and claustrophobic and shaky only when dictated, and that alone deserves applause.

The art direction is flawless, seamlessly floating between modern warfare, classical pomp and rich lobbying.  Creating this otherworldly, ethereal smorgasbord of imagery that leaves you guessing the true intentions of the characters actions and the filmmaker's intentions.  Creating layers, upon layers, of intrinsically choreographed symbolism, often having esoteric arguments with the acting and script.  Not an easily garnered laurel, alas.

Fiennes's concept of the digital/physical revolution dialectical dialogue is brilliant and innovative.  Having rebels easily switch between using terse dialogue, automatic weapons, to hand combat, cell phone videos, portable cameras, and sometimes contentious use of the media machine.  Capturing very well the ebb and flow of a contemptuous mob, of a rebellion on the brink of both glory and failure, and of a protagonist that is both perfect and flawed, sometimes by the same characteristics.

The sound design is cacophonous when prudent and minimalistic in surprising ways.  Sometimes slightly altering the reverb on the voices of the characters to make them feel ominous and eerie, even if you don't understand one hundred percent every bit of poetry and prose flowing from the mouths of the actors.

As a side note:  If you have a hard time with Shakespeare, as I confess I do, watch it with subtitles.  The mix of action, visuals, and text make understanding and comprehending it much easier. If Babel (2006) has taught us anything is that you don't need to understand what the characters are saying necessarily, to comprehend the story or be impacted by it, or through it.  And that's the lesson people seem to forget when they brush these films aside simply because they don't understand the language.

Artwork for Theatrical Release.

Looking beyond the language, the color palette is very drab, including not a single crimson color.  Not in the blood, not in the sky, nowhere;  except the occasional deep forest green in Coriolanus's private world.

Some of the compositions are just beautiful and full of hubris, for the characters and the fimmaker.  Which again, is not an easy accomplishment, but Ralph Fiennes does it, and considering the complexity of his acting, one would assume almost haphazardly; but meticulousness is more like it.

The acting is beyond breathtaking, even from minor characters that serendipitously pop up on screen.

Vanessa Redgrave, as Coriolanus's mother and puppet master, is much creepier and dangerous than fifty Coriolanus put end to end.  In the process, establishing a creepier dependent relationship between son and mother, that has not existed since the Bates clan.

Ralph Fiennes's embodiment of Coriolanus wreaks of Marlon Brando's colonel in Apocalypse Now (1979), particularly in the last act when the final climactic set of actions are set against an advancing rebellion and a retreating superpower; whose editing, only eclipsed by Coriolanus's tragic demise, is spot on and exhilarating.  All culminating in the most powerful ending I have seen in film lately!

The only bad thing to be said of the film, has really nothing to do with the film itself, but with Netflix's compression, even through a moderately fast internet connection.  It washes the blacks and the excess of digital artifacts, even when nothing else is running in the background, is ridiculous.

Save yourself the hassle and buy this on Blu-ray, or if you're not a fan of Shakespeare, then go rent it, it's worth it.

"There's a world...elsewhere."