morrison-dylan-fan Despite having read praise for his work over the years,I have somehow only seen director Nicolas Roeg's work as a camera operator on the fun British Horror Doctor Bloods Coffin.Getting told by a family friend that he had recently picked up,what is currently Roeg's feature film,I felt that it would be a good time to read Roeg's final piece.The plot:Redeveloping a house which had been burnt down 5 years ago, architect Liffey becomes pregnant,after having sex with her boyfriend on a stone-which legend has it,is a shrine to Odin.Being called away on urgent work-related issues,Liffey is left to sort out the redevelopment of the house on her own.Since the death of her young son in the house fire 5 years ago,Molly has been desperate for one of her 3 daughters to have a son,so that a male entity can be in the family.With Molly's daughter Mabs being married to a strapping young man called Tucker,Molly decides to start performing black magik,in the hope that the child Liffey is carrying will turn out to not be hers.View on the film:Based on his mums own novel,the screenplay by Dan Weldon attempts to offer an intriguing mix of Kitchen Sink-grit with Supernatural Horror chills.Whilst the Irish village gives the title a suitable icy backdrop,Weldon is never able to make the mixture fully gel,due to Molly's witchcraft on Liffey lacking any sense of menace,which leads to the Horror elements falling (unintentionally?) into a heap of burnt- out Comedy splinters.Along with the dopey Horror elements,Weldon also fails to give the movie its much needed bite,by appearing to be unsteady over handling the Kitchen Sink dynamics,with none of the largely female cast being given a character with even the slightest hint of depth,that causes Liffey's struggle to be mashed up with Molly's boo-hiss witching.Whilst his early directing credits are infamous for sex scenes which crept extremely close to being "real" director Nicolas Roeg destroys any sense of sensuality in the sex scenes,by wrapping each of them up in a badly-designed New Age tapestry,and also shooting close-ups on the sex scenes in Digital,which despite being designed to shock,just come off as rather desperate.Keeping up with the plodding sex scenes,Roeg drags the film across a vast 120 minute running time,which ends up burning out at the half-way point,when Roeg appears to not know any route to expand on the characters relationships,which leads to this being an extremely disappointing puff piece.

Nooblethenood I'm not going to completely slate this film. It had some convincing elements, and began to get a sense of drama after a while.However, that's pretty much all I can say that's positive about it. It's extraordinary to think about the films that Nicolas Roeg has had a hand in, and then to see the genuinely shoddy camera, editing and soundtrack work in this. From a production point of view, it's well short of what it should be. Shots are wobbly where they really aren't supposed to be, the camera operator seems to be initially obsessed with unnecessary slow zoom shots when setting the scene early on. And it does that atrocious thing of the camera positively taking you by the hand, pointing at the thing that's supposed to be relevant, and shouting 'Look! Look at this! Look! It's really important and relevant to something that's going to happen in the plot!' Appalling! There is literally no visual, and indeed editorial, subtlety to this at all.Of course, the camera spends plenty of time picking out things to look at that are apparently relevant to the plot (such as the titular puffball mushroom), but the relevance of which is anybody's guess, and is never elucidated on throughout the film. It is a story evidently revolving around a mish-mashed kind of magical mysticism, and yet the mechanics of this are never explained. A family consisting of the mad old witch (literally) grandma and her two harridan daughters are, apparently, desperate to produce a male child. Apart from the suggestion that this comes down to the grandma's loss of her son, there is again no explanation of what exactly this will achieve, beyond them having a boy in the family. Why is it so important? Why does this require magical, potion swilling machinations and almost homicidal hatred towards the perfectly nice, pleasant new couple in the old cottage down the road? We have no idea, and nothing in the hackneyed performances of pretty much everyone involved provides any enlightenment.As the heroine of the story, Kelly Reilly manages to squeeze out (pardon the pun) one or two moments of dramatic complexity, but little more. The other female roles are variously overplayed or underscripted, and none are believable. As for the incidental male roles (more on that shortly), there's no-one who stands out... EXCEPT for Donald Sutherland.Now just check that for a moment. Donald Sutherland, someone who, in his time, has offered some of the really memorable, if ever somewhat eccentric, roles in film. In Puffball, however, he appears, as though out of nowhere, with no introduction or explanation, then wanders about in woodland pretty much dancing gaily around magical stones and fairy rings, grinning all the time like a Cheshire... well, idiot. Then, when he does speak he's barely audible, delivering every line in a low, drunken murmur, and when he is audible, the pseudo-philosophical claptrap he issues forth makes about as much sense as a ham bicycle. I have precisely no idea why he was even there, and what his character was supposed to achieve for the film.But, finally, the issue with the men. Fay Weldon is a writer with a certain feminist character, and certainly her novels are not without their confusing, or at least complex gender issues. However, I have no idea who, or what in human psychology, this story is supposed to represent or serve. The men are, essentially, incidental tools either to be used by the women in the story, or to provide the most vapid, inconsequential 'guidance', that couldn't guide a train along a straight track. They are cyphers, nothing more, used by the women in the story primarily for sex and impregnation, and they are apparently useless to offer any resistance to this role. The women, on the other hand, are either manipulative and utterly bewilderingly obsessed morons, or in the case of Liffey, a shallow, daft victim, who only makes it through the whole business by barely relevant or believable luck. There is no actual arc or development to her awareness of the world at all. Stuff just happens. It seems to me that this story has nothing to say about gender roles or relations at all, as its representations of both men and women have no bearing on reality whatsoever. Nor does it provide dialogue interesting enough to pardon this.For a moment, somewhere, in the latter half of the film, there was almost a dramatic rhythm and character appearing in Puffball, but it didn't last very long. The timing is well off: it's over-long and narratively awkward. None of the story really makes sense, and one feels that there was an intentional decision not to explain what is happening. However, this went to the extent of not explaining it AT ALL, leaving the viewer with no engagement in the story, no understanding of what was supposed to be happening and why, and absolutely no idea why it was supposed to be worth the bother.So, all in all, really not worth making the effort to see.Oh, and some really pointless and off-putting 'internal' graphic sex/genitalia shots, using what I can only presume were latex creations from the xxx-online boutique's Pervy Plastic range. I mean, loads of them. Let's just say, I reckon there's a reason why not many filmmakers have felt the need to shoot sex from the inside. It's not pretty, and it's not clever.

MARIO GAUCI Ever since director Roeg's career went into irreversible decline in the mid- 1980s, he has intermittently been attempting to recapture shades of his former glory and this is surely another effort in that vein – what with its mystical/architectural themes and emphasis on sex, down to an irrelevant cameo by Donald Sutherland (from his masterpiece DON'T LOOK NOW [1973]). However, the result is only mildly compelling and as muddled as ever; at least, leading lady Kelly Reilly is most appealing – and physically reminiscent of Candy Clark, who had featured in the director's THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH (1976). Like Julie Christie in DON'T LOOK NOW itself, he has recruited an icon of the Swinging Sixties, Rita Tushingham, to play the misguided 'witch' after the heroine (who is renovating the cottage in which the old lady's son had died in a fire years earlier). Aiding her in the 'cause' is Tushingham's middle-aged but still attractive daughter (Miranda Richardson, delivering the film's outstanding performance) and the latter's own reluctant offspring. Reilly is impregnated by her fiancé (who then summarily departs for New York) but miscarries soon after; realizing she is going to conceive once more some time later, the girl fears the father may be Richardson's younger husband (and so do Tushingham & Co.) – whom Reilly had seduced while drunk at her place! However, it turns out that she had originally conceived twins and one managed to survive the ordeal. Anyway, Tushingham's clan professes to befriend Reilly (while mixing disgusting potions ostensibly to assimilate her pregnancy onto Richardson, though the girl eventually exposes the others' scheme) – including giving a dinner at their house where the titular dish (dubbed "The Devil's Eyeball", actually this film's subtitle in the U.S.) is served; at the end of the day, in spite of Tushingham's death, the situation is happily resolved for the 'witches' as well when Richardson herself finally bears a son. For the record, among the remaining Roeg titles I have yet to catch up with, I own the following: INSIGNIFICANCE (1985), TRACK 29 (1988), SWEET BIRD OF YOUTH (1989; TV) and COLD HEAVEN (1992)

niklburton I watched Puffball last night, as a huge Fay Weldon fan who read the book quite a few years ago. I was surprised to discover it was a 2007 film, as the subject matter, and the atmosphere of the pic, would have suggested something many years older.Still, I thought it was quite faithful to the intent of the book, and is, despite some comments, very much a women's film. It deals with elemental forces, and the complexity of women's nature and women's power. The men are little more than sperm donors, penile life support systems to be acted on by women's emotions and a separate women's nature, almost echoing, (or prefiguring, more likely) some of Jane Campion's observations in The Piano, among others.This has always been the heart of Fay Weldon's work, a poke in the eye of naivité, of the "Eyes Wide Shut" variety, about the nature of women. The film doesn't really add to this narrative, but it doesn't diminish it either, which is saying something for a film adaptation of a novel, made by an auteur to boot.