Caroline Colvin explains how Donnie Darko remains a touchstone of millennial film culture.

Woozy time travel, a loveable bad boy, a hulking, mangy hare and a trippy, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it ending: no one watches Donnie Darko and forgets about it. Since the film hit cinemas sixteen years ago, its generations of viewers have been touched by unease and confusion. And it’s this confusion, for better or worse, that has defined the legacy of Donnie Darko.

I was too young to watch Donnie Darko when it was first released in theatres. In 2001, my cinematic tastes were just shifting from Toy Story and Mulan to Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter films. So, as many people my age have told me, Donnie Darko arrived in early high school.

It came at the perfect time. When I wasn’t rolling my uniform skirt and smudging on Taylor Momsen levels of black eyeshadow, I was rocking fingerless gloves, piles of lace and a healthy heaping of plaid. Marilyn Manson was my style icon. Something dark and early 2000s like Donnie Darko seemed right up my alley.

Along with being smitten with its titular character (a mouthy but thoughtful Jake Gyllenhaal), I remember finishing the film in an impressed but stunned haze. I sat there thinking, “Okay, so what the hell did I just watch?”

Speaking with my peers, I found that therein lies the beauty of the film. Donnie Darko taught us young millennials, who were just developing our philosophical compass, how to think more existentially.

Little exchanges like “Why do you wear that stupid bunny suit?” “Why do you wear that stupid man suit?” sparked that metaphysical consciousness. What does it mean to exist on this Earth? In this time frame?

Now, more than a decade removed from its release, Donnie Darko has become a film we can watch over and over again. There will always be something new to pick up on.

For all its darkness, the romance struck up with Gretchen Ross (an endearing Jena Malone), Drew Barrymore’s cameo as Donnie’s English teacher, and the Smurf sex discussion still sparkle all these years later.

And of course, Donnie getting ahold of the microphone and cheekily proclaiming to Jim Cunningham (Patrick Swayze), “I think you’re the fucking Antichrist,” never fails to elicit chaotic glee. You’d be hard-pressed circa 2012 to find a soft grunge or pastel blog on Tumblr that didn’t have a desaturated or black & white gif of Donnie calmly destroying a school assembly.

Another gem that stands the test of time is the soundtrack. The tunes setting that dark and dreamy, late ‘80s mood are oft cited as the film’s selling points.

Gretchen and Donnie’s party scene is book-ended by “Love Will Tear Us Apart” and The Church’s “Under the Milky Way.”

The film is credited, too, with helping Tears for Fears’ “Mad World” pop off; and to this day, whenever I hear “The Killing Moon” by Echo & Bunnymen, my mind flashes to Donnie Darko.

Despite the fondness the film conjures up for millennials, not all memories are nostalgic. Sometimes, watching Donnie Darko post-high school reveals that your obsession with this boy and this rabbit and this esoteric, jumbly storyline was just a hallmark of your hipster phase. There is also the tough question of mental health portrayal. Donnie’s schizophrenia can be eye-opening to a young person sorting out their own mental health issues. But looking back as a better informed adult, you wonder.

Perhaps there is a dangerous slant, wherein Donnie Darko isn’t just representation. It might be accused of glamorization of mental illnesses and romanticization of suicide. How fair is it to folks with schizophrenia that Donnie’s episodes are tied to violence and his hallucinations are simply plot devices?

And for some, that first-watch confusion also did not age well.

As Roger Ebert wrote of Donnie Darko when it came out, “I could tell you what I think happens at the end, and what the movie is about, but I would not be sure I was right… The plot wheel revolves one time too many, and we’re left scratching our heads. We don’t demand answers at the end, but we want some kind of closure.”

Naturally, many millennials, who saw it when I did, hopped on the Internet ASAP to get some answers. That in itself speaks volumes about the legacy of Donnie Darko. We were far enough down the line that Donnie Darko had cemented its cult status. So we watched with a treasure trove of discourse on Reddit already available at our fingertips.

But still, for some, the lack of explanations don’t come off as clever or poetic. Donnie Darko feels unfinished and convoluted.

Be that all as it may, love it or hate it, Donnie has left his mark on our generation. Even for those lukewarm on its merits, the film comes highly recommended. And if not our warmly held Halloween-time favourite, at least Donnie Darko can be a reminder of why we started watching difficult films in the first place.

Donnie Darko will be screened tomorrow November 15th, at 6pm. VENUE: Drayton House B03 Ricardo LT. >> FACEBOOK EVENT <<

For future screenings and other events check out our Facebook page.

Sophie O’Sullivan examines the smouldering legacy of Nichols’ romantic drama.

Mike Nichols’ Closer (2004) is a seductive study into indulgent adult relationships in a world which unrealistically accommodates whatever the heart desires.

Closer revolves around the intertwined love affairs of four characters. Jude Law plays Dan, a frustrated writer, who has settled for publishing obituaries in a London newspaper. Natalie Portman plays Alice, a self-confessed ‘waif’, claiming to be an ex-stripper fleeing a failed relationship. Julia Roberts is Anna, a sophisticated divorcee photographer, and Clive Owen is Larry, a perverse dermatologist.

The film opens to Damien Rice’s ‘The Blower’s Daughter’. A disheveled Dan spots a strikingly youthful Alice across a busy street. Rice’s “can’t take my eyes off you” echoes between them until Alice accidentally steps out into the traffic, only to come to in Dan’s arms, whispering provocatively, “Hello, stranger.” This first meet-cute sets the tone of the film: four characters apparently swayed by the tides of love, while also being very much in control of their wants and desires.

As the plot unfolds a complicated love quadrangle is formed. Skipping to the future, Dan has written a book based on Alice’s life, but tries to seduce beautiful photographer Anna, while she photographs him for the book jacket. Alice catches him but, instead of confronting Dan, corners Anna – who claims to be “no thief”. Frustrated by Anna’s rejection, and clueless of Alice’s knowledge, Dan conducts a vengeful windup. Posed as Anna, he catfishes Larry on an online sex website, persuading him to meet at a local aquarium he knows Anna frequents. When Anna and Larry do bump into each other, Larry’s sexual references leave Anna perplexed, until she, slightly implausibly, works out Dan is to blame.

These first scenes are almost agonisingly manipulative. Dan is unbearably sleazy, and one nearly feels sorry for Alice. Anna has clearly met her match in Dan as she restrains herself from his advances. Larry, on the other hand, appears slightly ridiculous from the start. Nonetheless, eventually they all show themselves to be as bad as one another. Each is astonishingly self-absorbed: Alice, a compulsive liar; Anna chronically disloyal; Dan pathetically manipulating and manipulated; and Larry never loses the perverse tone with which his character is first introduced.

The characters also all exist in strikingly privileged setups – allowing them to throw their weight around to their hearts desire. No one, other than Alice, ever express concerns for finance or work, whilst Alice relishes the currency of youth. This leads to an intriguingly unrestrained exploration of the selfish whims of adult desire – however suspiciously unrealistic.

Throughout the restless plotline, the partners swap, have sex and, eventually return to their original matches. The scenes are brief, quickly passing through many years. Each scene is either the beginning or the end of a relationship, tantalising the audience, but never satisfying them with the indulgence of the actual romance. In this mirroring of the characters’ infatuation with transition, the film tells a story of insincere, pretentious passion, disguised as desire and love.

Sex runs through the veins of this film. The characters are bracingly and acerbically frank in their speech. This climaxes in a raging fight between Anna and Larry. Larry asks “do you like him coming in your face?…What does it taste like?” only for Anna to scream back “it tastes like you but sweeter”. The sexual charge created between these characters is never actually fulfilled: despite frequent discussion and reference, there are no sex scenes at all. It is all the more exciting left to the viewer’s imagination.

Originally a play, Closer retains its theatrical format. Complex dialogue is heavily relied upon and, although this is refreshing from a Hollywood film, the cinematography doesn’t fully justify the move of this piece from play to screen. The plot is unnecessarily contained within the exchanges of the four characters:  although some of the settings are visually interesting (a strip club, an art gallery) they act only as backdrop for conversations.

As a voyeuristic exploration of fantasy and desire, Closer is a highly entertaining indulgence. The cast is undeniably strong and there are scenes of great humour and intensity. But as an investigation into realistic relationships, it operates with an improbable lack of moral context – presumably a result of the significant personality flaws of the lead characters. Although this may be validating for anyone who has acted selfishly in love behind the facade of the search for truth, was I left satisfied? Maybe for now, but I’ll be moving on soon.

Closer was screened by UCL Film & TV Society on October 25th.

Billy Elliot will be screened today November 3rd in collaboration with UCL Dance Society.

For future screenings, check out the events on our Facebook page.

Calvin Law revisits Tom Ford’s 2009 debut in anticipation of tomorrow’s FilmSoc screening.

Through his first two features, renowned fashion designer Tom Ford has proved to be – for lack of a better word – a stylish director. Whether or not he’s a good director has been a point of division. Some think his talents befit the medium of cinema, creating aesthetically pleasing visuals to match stylized narratives; others contend that his beautiful aesthetic fails to make up for often hollow and meandering narratives. I’m somewhere in between in this regard. I found Nocturnal Animals a failure on a storytelling level, failing to create any naturalism with its Lynchian dialogue and performances, and its visual style completely ill-fitting to the heavy and often gritty themes it was trying to convey; A Single Man, perhaps less ambitious, is far more assured a film.

There is debate over whether Ford is the right person to tell this particular story, which covers a day in the life of middle-aged English professor George Falconer (an Oscar-nominated Colin Firth), during which he decides to commit suicide that evening. Through recurring flashbacks we learn about his long-term relationship with Jim (Matthew Goode); in the present we watch him go about his day, interacting with his students, neighbours, and best friend Charley (Julianne Moore). Now I’ve read of reservations from those who believe that the film, though depicting a gay character dealing with grief and societal issues surrounding his sexuality, diminishes the importance of LGBT culture through its stylized approach and lack of representation. Well, though the film’s focus is indeed rather limited, and fairly glossy in its approach to sexuality, I’d say that is perfectly fitting to the story of a very emotionally repressed man who despite a fairly luxurious lifestyle finds his existence truly empty without his partner. A grittier or more earthly approach would have removed it of its distinctive style and made it too ‘slice of life’; the stylized approach, this time round, helps enhance the narrative. It is at the end of the day, a portrayal of a single white male’s grief, but that shouldn’t be held against it: I think it tells this sort of narrative fairly well.

Of course, A Single Man is certainly no Moonlight, Carol, or even a Brokeback Mountain or The Kids Are Alright when it comes to LGBT film. As I’ve mentioned, it is a fairly simplistic film on the whole. Besides the nice cinematography, the other standout element is Colin Firth’s performance, which was rightfully acclaimed; it’s probably his best performance to date. Julianne Moore is also solid in her single scene with Firth. Otherwise the performances are bland script-reads by pretty people (including Nicholas Hoult, who’s since proved himself to be way more impressive than his dull turn here would indicate). And yes, as a Weinstein distributed film it features pretty much every Oscar-bait trope in its pursuit of the Oscars. It’s showing this Tuesday at the UCL Film Society screenings – check it out then and make of it what you will.

A Single Man will be screened in UCL’s DMS Watson Building, Room G15, at 6pm.

> All details on the Facebook event.

UCL Film & TV Society hosts a weekly screening from a diverse programme of relevant and interesting films. Check out our Facebook page to discover what’s showing every week. (NOTE: society membership is required for attendance; info on website.)