Das Reich und die Herrlichkeit

I have been following this director for a while and I always liked his films but this time he has exceeded my expectations.

'The Claim' is like an ancient greek tragedy and Dillon is its' hero. Dillon is a man who goes West with his wife and new born daughter in order to find gold. In the process he sells his wife and his daughter in exchange for that gold. Years later his wife will come back to haunt him and Dillon comes to realize how empty his life has been, how irrelevant wealth can be to happiness. The story is so beautifully told and the last scene where the people of the new city of Lisboa prey on Dillon's gold is a metaphor or at least I would like it to be. I think Winterbottom wanted to show how the world will never change, how people will continue to go after that gold. Dillon came and went, but he didn't leave anything behind him. He achieved all those things, he was a pioneer he went out West, he was one of the people who built America but he didn't win his daughter's heart. And it makes one wonder, what was the point of his life. 'The Claim' is the story of America itself, an America that was built on greed, on the quest for new lands, new conquers and prosperity. Peter Mullan gives us an excellent performance, as well as Sarah Polley as the elegant young daughter and Milla Jovovich. Nastasia Kinsky has a rather insignificant role and Wes Bentley is disappointing. Overall, a very good film, a piece of art by Winterbottom and a story that you won't forget for a while.

This is a rare British attempt at a Western, albeit an uncharacteristic one about a small mining town clashing with the oncoming railroad: it's reasonably well served by the stark cinematography, Michael Nyman's dramatic underscoring and a surprisingly able cast (the most impressive being Peter Mullan as the town leader with a secret past and Milla Jovovich as the chanteuse who has hooked up with him).

Given the director, the film strives for absolute realism (down to the varying accents of the multi-national townspeople and the kind of entertainment provided in the dingy saloon); this, coupled with its relentless solemnity and a plot which isn't as engaging as it should be - actually containing a good deal of padding, particularly its baffling emphasis on the blossoming romance between a prospector and a prostitute - results in a rather uneasy film, one that's not remembered with affection! However, the tragic finale - with Mullan's dreams literally going up in flames - is effectively handled.

Curiously enough, watching THE CLAIM I was reminded of Nicolas Roeg's similar EUREKA (1983) - which also revolved around a family undone by the lust for gold - though it lacks that film's striking imagery (not to mention its equally distinctive eccentricity).

Although set in a remote Sierra Nevada mining town in 1867, `The Claim' is really Thomas Hardy's classic novel, `The Mayor of Casterbridge' transported to American soil. The move is a good one.

The story concerns a wealthy miner named Daniel Dillon who practically runs the town of Kingdom Come as his own personal fiefdom. One fateful day three groups of people arrive into town: some railroad surveyors who offer the possibility that a train may soon be passing through the town, bringing with it people, wealth and prosperity; some prostitutes who plan to open up shop in this all-male community; and a sickly woman and her beautiful young daughter, who, it turns out, are the wife and daughter that Dillon sold for a bag of gold in his desperate youth – a decision he has lived to rue ever since.

Given this multi-character canvas, writer Frank Cottrell Boyce and director Michael Winterbottom take an almost painterly approach, allowing the drama to unfold at an unhurried pace, so that they can concentrate on the bleak snowy winter setting which ends up playing as great a role in the drama as the characters themselves. The most compelling of these is Dillon, a figure of almost tragic proportions, a man who seizes the chance to make amends for his heinous sin, yet who discovers, all too late, that, for some sins, there can be no redemption. Peter Mullan provides a superbly understated interpretation of a man whose acquisition of immense wealth and power only mask the loneliness and guilt he feels inside. Wes Bentley as the chief railroad surveyor, Nastassja Kinski as Dillon's ailing wife, Sarah Polley as their daughter and Milla Jovovich as Dillon's devoted mistress all turn in outstanding performances. Although none of these characters are afforded the same richness and depth that Dillon is, they still create a fascinating tapestry of conflicting dreams and emotions. For the concept of `dreams' is a core element of the story's pioneer theme. Here are a group of rugged individualists, all enduring great hardships on a wild outpost far away from the soothing amenities of civilized life – yet all dreaming of being a part of the building of a burgeoning new nation, of which the makeshift towns and railroad-building are truly indelible symbols.

And, indeed, in many ways, it is the images – of rugged mountains, of the relentlessly falling snow, of a house being pulled by horses across a snowy plain – that stick with us most profoundly. `The Claim' is a somber, moving and fascinating glimpse into our pioneer past.

Michael Winterbottom's decision to construct the whole movie out of extreme telephoto shots - some of which have a pane of focus so shallow you start to wonder if it's really there at all - is more dogma than style. It places a heavy strain on the eyes which some viewers will mistake for tension in the story. (Michael Nyman's music, consisting of something like the "endless melody" which Wagner threatened to write but thankfully never did, likewise creates a tension which some viewers will mistakenly think belongs to the story. Actually, for once Nyman's music isn't that bad.) You have to admire the skill, and the art direction, like the choice of location, is beyond praise, but there's NO REASON AT ALL to make as peer at every single scene through a telescope, except perhaps that it's a shortcut (far too easy a shortcut) to stylistic unity.

It's surprising, towards the end, after all the cold, barely focused and rather absent storytelling, to find that the film packs a punch, after all. It came as a shock when I realised I'd actually been watching something GOOD. We really had been transported to another place (the journey was just a little slow); not having read Hardy's book, I found myself wondering how he could possibly have placed the story in an English setting.

I was also surprised to find myself touched. Some sad things happen at the end. I won't say what they are, and a synopsis of the plot probably wouldn't reveal what's sad about them, anyway.

One of my favourite things about this fine film is that the characters have European accents; too often films set in the American frontier of the 19th Century have their characters speaking in unlikely modern American accents. It adds greatly to the film's believability, as well as reminding the viewer that these were people who left their homelands, usually to escape extreme poverty, and started a new life in what was (to the white man) unknown territory; this utter anonymity helps explain the actions of some of the characters in the film. Indeed the central theme, the cost of sacrificing what one has for a possible better life, is an aspect of emigration itself; the poem "Noreen Bán" recited by Hope Byrne recalls the tragedy of mass emigration from Ireland after the Great Famine, so its impact on Dillon is multiplied.

Great credit is also due to the actors, excellent performances all round.