Blogging the London Film Festival: the highlights

Ten to watch, as recommended by us

The 53rd London Film Festival begins on 14 October. Among the hundred-plus films drawn from around the world are the latest Coen brothers comedy, a biopic of the poet John Keats and not one, but two, films starring George Clooney. Over the coming weeks, the NS culture team will bravely attend as many screenings as possible and blog about it here. In the meantime, here is our pick of ten highlights to whet your appetite:

Fantastic Mr Fox (dir: Wes Anderson)

Anderson, director of quirky comedies such as The Royal Tenenbaums, makes his first foray into animation with this adaptation of Roald Dahl's classic children's story.

The White Ribbon (dir: Michael Haneke)

The Austrian-born Haneke has long been known for his punishing films, but his last, Funny Games, proved a little too much for our own Ryan Gilbey. Will this tale of malice and spite in early-20th-century Germany fare any better?

Bluebeard (dir: Catherine Breillat)

Famously retold by Angela Carter in her story collection The Bloody Chamber, this fairy tale gets a low-budget treatment from the provocative Breillat.

Tales from the Golden Age (dir: Cristian Mungiu)

The 20th anniversary of the fall of communism is being marked by various arts projects. Here, the acclaimed Romanian director Mungiu presents a series of vignettes of life under Ceausescu. You can read the NS review of his previous film, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, here.

Oil City Confidental (dir: Julien Temple)

After giving us documentaries on the Sex Pistols and the Glastonbury Festival, Temple turns his attention to Britain's much-maligned pub rock scene.

She, a Chinese (dir: Xiaolu Guo)

Guo is better known for her novels (the most recent of which we reviewed here), but she is also an accomplished film-maker. She, a Chinese tells the story of a young immigrant in Britain and features a score by John Parish, the PJ Harvey collaborator.

Hadewijch (dir: Bruno Dumont)

With a visual style that has more in common with the painters of his native Flanders than any of his contemporaries, Dumont cuts something of an outsider figure in French cinema. Hadewijch is tipped to be his best work yet -- while you wait for it, read this 2007 NS interview with the director.

Journey to the Moon (dir: Kutluğ Ataman)

Ataman, who was nominated for the Turner Prize in 2004, may be better known to NS readers as a video artist -- Fisun Güner wrote about him in April. Journey to the Moon reconstructs an incident from 1950s Turkey.

Perestroika (dir: Sarah Turner)

Structured around a journey on the Trans-Siberian Express, this exploration of amnesia is a promising highlight of the festival's experimental film strand.

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (dir: Werner Herzog)

Herzog, the visionary German director who has been making films since the 1960s, is enjoying a late surge in popularity. This remake of a 1992 Abel Ferrara crime drama, starring Nicholas Cage, is a departure from his recent run of documentaries. You can read our Q+A with the director here.

Daniel Trilling is the Editor of New Humanist magazine. He was formerly an Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

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The non-fiction novel that takes readers inside the head of Raoul Moat

Andrew Hankinson’s depiction of Moat’s unravelling is being marketed as biography/true crime, but its semi-fictional world is something more complex.

In July 2010, just weeks after becoming Prime Minister, David Cameron expanded upon his vision for the “Big Society” that he had first unveiled at the 2009 party conference. It promised a “big advance for people power”, in which individuals would be responsible for their actions. “To be British is to be sceptical of authority and the powers that be,” he told conference. “There is a ‘we’ in politics, and not just a ‘me’.”

That same month, just two days after being released from HMP Durham for the assault of a child, the self-employed gardener and former doorman Raoul Moat shot and injured his ex-girlfriend Samantha Stobbart and killed her boyfriend Chris Brown, who he wrongly believed to be a policeman. Moat went on the run, shooting a policeman at point-blank range, then fleeing to the rural Northumberland town of Rothbury. For a week, the story of this exotically named, delusional man who left behind a wealth of material, including letters and four-hour-long Dictaphone recordings, was given joint top billing with Cameron’s “Big Society” – soon to be as dead and buried as Moat, who, cornered by police after a seven-day hunt, killed himself.

The journalist Andrew Hankinson’s depiction of Moat’s unravelling is being marketed as biography/true crime, yet really is a non-fiction novel, in which writer and reader squat inside a mind that moves from irrational anger and self-pity to despondency. Moat’s is a solipsistic narration, in which he is the perennial victim – of circumstance, enemies, authoritarian bureaucracy, police harassment and past lovers. There is little room here for the outside world. Like most outlaws, Moat believed that everyone had failed him. “All my life I wanted death,” he laments.

The real-life Moat story, however, was more than that of a lone fugitive. It was also about rolling news coverage and Facebook groups, some of which celebrated Moat as a Ned Kelly-type folk hero – a “#ledge”. When Cameron denounced him in parliament he inadvertently elevated Moat to a clearer anti-authoritarian position: the antithesis of a “Big Society” citizen, in fact. It is also the story of the Northumbria Police force, which did its very best to show that it had everything under control when it really didn’t.

And, bringing an element of farce to a tragedy, it featured the subplot of a thoroughly leathered Paul Gascoigne – the most exciting and idiosyncratic footballer of his generation – tearing through the countryside in a taxi with a fishing rod, a dressing gown and a rotisserie chicken in an attempt to bring a sense of calm to the situation. “All I want to do is shout, ‘Moaty, it’s  Gazza! Where are you?’” he explained en route during a live radio phone-in. “And I guarantee he will shout his name out: ‘I’m here.’” Gascoigne’s pantomime intervention added to the chaos: now another disenfranchised northern male was running amok. The parallels were evident: Gazza’s career had been beset by injury and alcoholism, Moat’s bodybuilder’s physique was no longer in prime condition after weight loss in prison. Both were separated from their families and prone to self-examination. Onlookers knew it could quite easily have been Gazza holed up in those woods.

Other exponents of the non-fiction novel such as Norman Mailer and Gordon Burn would surely have put all this in, yet Hankinson chooses not to cover any of the peripheral subplots, instead using a second-person narrative to burrow deep into Moat’s paranoia, sourcing all his text from real material. This narrative sacrifice in favour of a singular voice gives the book thrust and authenticity of voice, and manages to show the nuances of a man who was articulate and often capable, and had reached out to social services on many occasions for help. None of which excuses Moat’s action – but it does explain his choices. Where the tabloids favoured the simplicity of the textbook “cold-blooded killer”, Hankinson’s portrait lets the reader make his or her own judgement. Clearly Moat was a bully, and yet he was not born that way. Few are. “There’ll be books written about all this, and you’ll be made out to be some crazed fucking maniac,” he says to himself, with both foresight and grim resignation.

Elsewhere the semi-fictional Moat brushes over past transgressions and labours over the tiniest slights in such repetitive, droning detail that the reader’s sympathy soon wanes. The book’s strength lies in the real-life Moat’s keenness to confess – to be heard, finally, beyond death – through these nocturnal monologues, recorded in his tent after yet another meal of charred burgers. From these remnants, Hankinson deftly assembles the man’s inner workings, lending credibility to his portrait while, beyond the myopic commentary, we know, although we don’t see it, that the outside world is closing in. Critics might ask: why give voice to a loser? Perhaps because in the right hands any real-life story is worth telling, and history should never just record the heroes and victors. The losers play their part, too.

Ben Myers’s novel “Beastings” recently won the Portico Prize for Literature

You Could Do Something Amazing With Your Life [You Are Raoul Moat] by Andrew Hankinson is published by Scribe (211pp, £12.99)

Ben Myers’ novels include Pig Iron and Richard, a Sunday Times book of the year. His writing has appeared in The Guardian, NME, Mojo, Time Out, 3:AM Magazine, Caught By The River and many others. www.benmyersmanofletters.blogspot.com

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war