Anton Corbijn became my favourite photographer the day I first saw his band shots of iconic English post-punk rockers Joy Division. It was 1998 and I was only 9 or 10 at the time. I don’t remember the specific date, but I do remember that once I saw the video for Joy Dvision’s “Atmosphere” about 4 years later when I was 14, it was more than just playing favourites. It was love.
I didn’t fall in love with Anton Corbijn, the man, but I fell in love with his imagery. I fell in love with the way he used shadows and light. I loved that he shot in mostly black and white. I loved the way he places subjects in his frames in a way that drew out not only the best of the humans, but the power of their surroundings. But most of all I loved the way that he seemed to be able to capture ‘cool’. Of course, it was his music photography that my younger self was almost exclusively interested in, with all of its broodiness and confident insecurities.
It took an additional 5 years before Corbijn could legitimately claim the title of my favourite director. It was fall 2007, I was 19 and had just started in my first year of the film program at Carleton University in Ottawa when Control, Corbijn’s first feature film, came to a theatre near me. There was nothing about it I couldn’t love. It was a biopic, and one about another one of my artistic heroes (Joy Division’s late lyricist Ian Curtis) at that. It was shot beautifully and all in black and white. The whole film has the same feel as not just Corbijn’s early music photography, but seems to capture the essence of what Joy Division was. It wasn’t just lauded by me, but by critics the English-speaking world over. It won BAFTAs, there were Oscar rumours and it was making top 10 lists everywhere.
As I walked out of the theatre on that cold fall night, I knew that Anton Corbijn was now my favourite director. That’s right, with just one actual film under his belt, Corbijn surpassed all others in my mind. It was perfect. He was perfect. He was rock photography royalty who shot in black and white, I had to go to the Bytowne* to see his film and, best of all, he was foreign. Anton Corbijn is tailor-made to be a keen first year film student’s response to the oft-asked “Who’s your favourite director?” question and better than many of my other one-time favourite people, Corbijn was able to retain this position for years (if you don’t count a 2 month affair with equally-film student friendly Werner Herzog).
At least that was until I saw Corbijn’s second film, The American, last night. Sorry Mr. Corbijn, but I just don’t think that there is a place for you in my film hero circle anymore.
This isn’t to say that The American is a horrible, or even a poor film. It isn’t. It just simply is not up to snuff. This also isn’t to say that I’ve written off Corbijn completely. I haven’t and I am eagerly anticipating the day he knocks my socks off with his next film so that I can justify that pedestal that I had placed him on for the last 3 years.
The American is a beautifully shot film, but it’s beauty isn’t so great that it is able to overshadow the agonizing (and not in a good way) slowness of the pace of the story. The actors involved (including George Clooney) performed excellently, but the acting could not cancel out the staleness of the plot. I like assassin/spy films as much as the next person (actually probably a whole lot more), but there are only so many scenarios that can, or have been, explored. Unfortunately a tall, gorgeous, mysterious American/British man on the run in Europe, hiding out while on his final mission, just doesn’t do anything for me anymore.
This underwhelming assessment of the film doesn’t even take into consideration the gratuitous nudity. I prefer to think of myself as gymnophobic* rather than a prude, but either way you spin it, I’m not a fan of naked people. It’s not as though I would discount or rate poorly a film just because it has nudity in it, but when I see a film with nakedness, I do like to be warned. I’m sorry, but when the sign outside the theatre gives the film a PG rating and even the ticket only says 14A, I shouldn’t have to be prepared for full frontal female nudity. Leaving aside the fact that full frontal male nudity is an automatic 18A, constituting a pretty significant double standard (something I may discuss more at length in another post), this is pretty peculiar.
Even if there had been warning, the nudity in this film is over-the-top, gratuitous to the point of distracting from what little plot actually existed. I understand that given that there is a romantic plot line between Clooney’s character and a prostitute, and that according to film industry standards, because of this some nudity would be necessary. But, the amount of naked lady that could have been considered necessary is far less than the (what seemed like) at least 10 minutes of boobs and more in the film.
In the end, The American failed not because it was bad but because it simply wasn’t extremely good. It’s unfortunate, but when a director’s first film is amazing, as Control undoubtedly was, this first film becomes the standard by which that director will be judged for the remainder of their career. In this case with a recycled plot, poor pacing and an overall lack of originality, Corbijn fell flat. I really wish it wasn’t so, but all I can do is hope it was just an example of the dreaded sophomore slump.
A final note for Mr. Corbijn: Though I can’t possibly call you my favourite director at this moment, I really am rooting for you. That top spot is open and all yours for the re-taking.
* Bytowne is the name of one of two independent theatres in Ottawa and tends to screen limited release and foreign films. For more information please visit http://www.bytowne.ca/.
* Gymnophobia – An abnormal and persistent fear of nudity, not, as would be suggested by it’s looks, a fear of going to the gym. I like the gym, hate the changing rooms. Simply another one of my totally irrational fears.
