WHERE'S THE DRAMA?

Le Mepris is very much a work in the meta-film tradition; in the sense that it is a film about film-making that is constantly reminding the audience of its own artificiality and manufactured design. This ideology is evident right from the start, as Godard begins the film with a lengthy tracking shot, which finds the camera following in front of a camera actually within the film and also in the middle of a similarly complicated tracking shot. To add further ideas of self-reflexivity to the proceedings, Godard appears himself as the film's assistant director, with his cinematographer Raoul Coutard manning the equipment. As the shot progresses, a cold and emotionless voice-over beings narrating the opening credits - though no text appears on screen - whilst the camera continues tracking towards us, edging closer to us until both camera and audience are starring directly into one other and the endless abyss that they represent.

It's pure Brechtian deconstruction, years before Godard would refine the influence of Brecht with the difficult masterpiece Week End (1967), which shares some elements familiar from Le Mepris, in particular the use of the couple as a metaphorical reference point for some kind of greater ideology and a natural continuation of many of the film-making techniques that Godard had been developing since A Woman Is A Woman (1961). This brings us to the story at hand, with Le Mepris focusing on a jaded scriptwriter (Michel Piccoli) setting out to polish the screenplay for Fritz Lang's big budget adaptation of Homer's epic, The Odyssey. From this set up we are introduced to the writer's beautiful and enchanting girlfriend (Brigitte Bardot), the arrogant U.S. film producer (Jack Palance), and the great man himself, Fritz Lang.

Each of these four characters will be involved in their own separate strand of the narrative that will run concurrently alongside the other characters, whilst in turn, laying reference points to the likes of Ulysses, The Odyssey, Fellini and The Rite of Spring, to create the overall foundation of the film itself. This is only the first quarter of the film and already Godard is churning out exciting idea after exciting idea to smash apart the worn clichés and generally accepted limitations of film in a way that is as startling, boring, joyous and confusing as anything else he has directed. The visual design is just splendid, with Godard and Coutard moving further away from the Nouvelle Vague/Cinéma-vérité influences of their earliest work and incorporating beautifully vivid primary colours, the use of cinema-scope, complex and seemingly random tracking shots and camera movements and sporadic bursts of music to disarm the viewer during moments of dialog.

The centrepiece here is the near-infamous twenty-minute long sequence that takes place between the writer and his girlfriend in their vast, open-plan apartment, in which jealousies, bitterness and petty arguments blow up and cool off amidst a series of seemingly mundane, everyday-like activities. What makes the scene work is Godard's far from invisible directorial intent, as he attempts to excite, bore and eventually move the audience into becoming interested in these complicated and far from conventional characters whilst simultaneously using the set up to offer a skillful deconstruction of his own film's narrative, the narrative of Homer's Odyssey, and the film that Lang is making. This ties into the further film-within-a-film-within-a-film (infinity) abstractions, with Godard continually making allusions to the idea that the film we are watching could easily be a film being made.

The film also works in a circular sense, opening with that aforementioned scene in which Godard points the barrel of the lens directly into the audience whilst narrating his own credits, whilst the final shots shows the camera drifting off towards the sunset as Godard yells "cut". With Le Mepris, Godard clearly struck the right balance of cinematic invention; beautiful photography, use of colour, costumes and music, a recreation of Cinecittà as a pastoral ghost town (a comment on film-making in itself), etc, whilst achieving a subtle symbiosis between his characters, his narrative and his philosophical subtext. For me, this is perhaps the strongest 'narrative' film the director ever made before abandoning generic storytelling and instead striving for greater artistic substance.

I suppose in this day and age it is easy to look back on Godard's once radical use of cinematic experimentation - and his genuine desire to challenge the medium of film far beyond the usual presentation of conventions like character and narrative - and see it as something that is hollow and dated; a pseudo-intellectual exercise in cinematic deconstruction that is there to be endured, as opposed to enjoyed. Though this may still be true for some viewers - particularly those at odds with Godard's personal style and the very 60's idea that art could be entertainment and that anything was possible - there will be other viewers who are far more in tune with the notion of cinema for cinema's sake, and can better appreciate the film for what it truly is.

In this luminous tale set in the former Yugoslavia, Perhan, an engaging young Romany with telekinetic powers, is seduced by the quick-cash world of petty crime that threatens to destroy him and those he loves.

South Africa in 1994 was in the grip of massive social change. The transition from dictatorship to democracy also ushered in a massive crime wave that rocked the country. The Choir explores the consequences of this social upheaval in the struggle for humanity and redemption through music in South Africas biggest prison. Shot over six years, the story follows a group of inmates led by wily ex-bank robber Coleman finding strength in the community of the prison choir. Coleman takes under his wing a rebellious and angry young prisoner, Jabulani Shabangu whose eventual release back onto the streets of Johannesburg is fraught with poverty and despair before his returned to prison. Under the tough love of the choirmaster, Jabulani learns to respect others and behave with discipline. Mirroring their homelands struggle to deal with the past and forge a new identity, The Choir is testament to the power of music and self-belief.

This passionate and fluid film is the first authentic history of surfing from its humble Hawaiian beginnings to the big business it became to the still-rebellious universe it inhabits today. "Riding Giants" is a study in individuality and freedom, the pursuit and techniques of pure kinetic pleasure, and the risk taking and attitudes that characterize its leading figures. For some viewers, this is perhaps more than they ever wanted to know. But Peralta's detailed knowledge of the surfing lifestyle, its icons and locations, its boom and exploitation by the media, and the fascination it has held for young men for more than five decades is unparalleled and fuels this expedition for the expert and initiate alike. Closely chronicling the sometimes-life-and-death drama that big-wave riding entails, the film is a visual thrill ride. But also revealed is the realization that the man versus nature dialectic never ends; the search for the ultimate wave and the spiritual pinnacle can only be pursued but never reached.

Before there were X-Games, there were Z-Boys. Narrated by Sean Penn and directed by skateboarding legend Stacy Peralta, "Dogtown and Z-Boys" is the award winning documentary that took the Sundance Film Festival by storm. This is the story of a gang of discarded kids who virtually revolutionized skateboarding with an aggressive style, awe inspiring moves and street smarts, and, in the process, transformed youth culture forever. Featuring historic old skool skating footage, exclusive interviews and a blistering rock soundtrack, "Dogtown and Z-Boys" captures the meteoric rise of the Zephyr skateboarding team from Venice's Dogtown, a tough 'locals only" beach with a legacy of outlaw surfing. Armed with a guerrilla code, the notorious Z-Boys sharpened their skills in the concrete jungle of 70s L.A. and then took it to the next level. Getting vertical in abandoned suburban swimming pools, they ignited an underground phenomenon that shaped the attitude and culture of modern day extreme sports. With rare appearances by skateboarding icons Tony Alva, Jay Adams and Tony Hawk, "Dogtown and Z-Boys" is a thrilling all access tour of the birth of a pop culture phenomenon.

1. If I knew what this was about, I would tell you or 2. Four dreamlike episodes: # fear of forgetting, # fear of change, # fear of being trapped, # fear of the unknown. The music was written and performed by James Reckseidler in 2007. www.youtube.com/reckseidlerfilms

The first episode of the first season of Alfred Hitchcock Presents - again dramatises the grammar of drama in short-form storytelling - re-contextualising the problem in a very unexpected though thororughly credible way. Interestingly, when Alfred Hitchcock Presents was revived in the 1980s, a re-make of this very same story was featured as the first episode of the first season

Written and directed by Marcell Iványi, this short, one-shot drama beautifully encapsulates the essential grammar of the short-form drama. Winning the Best Short Film at the Cannes Film Festival in 1996, the film was inspired by Lucien Hervé?s photograph entitled The Three Women (Audincourt, France, 1951). The plot, however, is what fascinates me. I can write down what happens but what it?s about is something else completely and that depends to the audience, which is where the most profound dramatic change occurs in the best short films. What is clever is the set up. We are shown three women looking off in the distance?the wind playing with their clothes, forcing them to sway? before the camera slowly pans to the right. All we see for three minutes is a pastoral scene moving slowly before us; flock of birds flying, a few houses, people walking, a cloudless sky. We know the camera is moving towards where the women are staring but we don?t know what to expect. At this anything could happen. Anything. We want the camera to move faster? why?? but it keeps to its own rhythm. Then we see something. There are more people standing still, staring. Amongst the people there?s a pole on the ground. A motionless person hangs from it. Soon after we see a closer shot of a second hanged person; this time we notice his head has been covered. We see four people hanged before we arrive at what I think is the climax: a man being prepared for his own hanging. Here the camera doesn?t stop but rather lingers on the image as it keeps moving. After the man?s footstool is kicked from under him we see him struggle for a moment before the camera continues on its way back towards the women. The women have a moment to take in what just happened then return to their homes. What happened? Who are these men? Why were they hanged? Who are the women? Why are so many people watching?

Award-winning French adaptation of the short story by Ambrose Bierce.

Great coming-of-age story with a fabulous soundtrack.

Strikngly dramatic, this Finnish film from the late 80s is a tour de force in dramatic storytelling. Based on ancient ancient tribal legend.

In a destroyed world, the only glimpse of hope is the memory of a forgotten past. But be careful not to let your dreams control your mind...This is Replay an amazing animated short film. Animation by anthonyvoisin http://www.aniboom.com/animator-portf... Follow Aniboom: facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Aniboom MySpace - http://www.myspace.com/aniboom Twitter - http://www.twitter.com/aniboom If you liked this animation, don't forget to subscribe