Review: A Mighty Heart

In many ways, A Mighty Heart, the Michael Winterbottom film about the abduction and brutal killing of American journalist Daniel Pearl, is the antidote to The Bourne films - in this case, an American is lost in the world of terror, espionage and multicultural clash, unable to assume another identity, or use force to escape a wrongful fate.

Winterbottom, a practiced and busy British director, has borrowed the Greengrass style and intent to dazzle with movement - here the camera jerks and stutters uneasily through the busy streets of Karachi, and zooms in on faces of drained, concerned Wall Street journalists, or a torture victim, with telescopic, grainy imperfection - the screen is a rapid eye movement of colour and cut - the film is mostly about seeing the Real - ironic, and apt, as the central action is left obscene, off-scene - the ritual slaughter of Pearl, simply because he "is American". Or, more accurately, Jewish, as Pearl's moving last words prove. Journalists no doubt appreciate the film's accurate depiction of their dangerous, lonely investigations in unwelcoming lands.

Others may find the film a strange mixture of undeniable personal anguish, set against an unclear backdrop of near-contemporary foreign policy and violence. As a story of a wife, stoic and noble, the success is immense - Angelina Jolie has never been better, and, risking the crass and obvious, this seems a sure bet for an Oscar nomination, even win, for Best Actress. Her sustained wail of horror and grief (borrowed from Bergman's Fanny & Alexander) is undeniably powerful. Will Patton, an under-rated character actor of great ability, is here the vaguely sleazy US Diplomat who seems to almost revel in the unfolding drama.

However, the other, bigger picture - the relationship between the West and its often "Orientalised" enemies - is muddily presented, as if there might be a danger that, in presenting too clear a through line, uncomfortable truths might emerge - uncomfortable for America and its allies.

There is a potent ambiguity in the dogged pursuit of the kidnappers by a ruthless secret policeman (The Captain played well by Irfan Khan) working for Pakistan's government. He and his men come across as effective, to say the least. The image of the tortured suspect, hanging from a chain like meat, is a homage to the greatest political film of all, The Battle of Algiers, but also a thorn in the side of any mere apologist for wars on terror - as such wars also use terror. For a film about trying to see the truth, this is an evasive, but compelling, portrait of what stays invisible, unseen, unsaid.

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se. What do I mean by smart?

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and Silence of the Lambs . I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".

THE SWIFT REPORT 2023

I am writing this post without much enthusiasm, but with a sense of duty. This blog will be 20 years old soon, and though I rarely post here anymore, I owe it some attention. Of course in 2023, "Swift" now means one thing only, Taylor Swift, the billionaire musician. Gone are the days when I was asked if I was related to Jonathan Swift. The pre-eminent cultural Swift is now alive and TIME PERSON OF THE YEAR. There is no point in belabouring the obvious with delay: 2023 was a low-point in the low annals of human history - war, invasion, murder, in too many nations. Hate, division, the collapse of what truth is, exacerbated by advances in AI that may or may not prove apocalyptic, while global warming still seems to threaten the near-future safety of humanity. It's been deeply depressing. The world lost some wonderful poets, actors, musicians, and writers this year, as it often does. Two people I knew and admired greatly, Ian Ferrier and Kevin Higgins, poets and organise

E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

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