This film tells true story of an event that became legendary in the annals of the Old West. It is 1881 and Jesse James (Brad Pitt), the brutal outlaw and folk hero, has become older, tired and paranoid. Robert Ford (Casey Affleck) has idolised him since he was a child, and desperately tries to join his gang. Director Andrew Dominik explores how fate intertwines these two men’s lives, producing a dream-like and haunting viewing experience.
Casey Affleck (who doesn’t look that much like his brother, but sounds so much like him that it freaks me out) is brilliant as the titular coward. Shifty, constantly mumbling and weasely, but also intelligent and hot-headed, the Robert Ford shown here was an ambitious misfit who yearned for fame, and unfortunately got what he wanted. Pitt’s Jesse James is a malevolent presence in every scene. Apparently bi-polar towards the end of his life, he is at once both charming and dangerously unpredictable. If one actually looks at photos of Jesse James, however, one will see that he actually looked a lot more like a weedy version of Affleck than Brad Pitt. I suppose it is inevitable that everyone is beefed-up to match the Hollywood aesthetic.
As a mood-piece this contemplative film works very well. The cinematography is wonderful; grand vistas, farmhouses, towns, everything is shown through a grey-brown haze (at one point, Ford states that both he and James have blue eyes, but you really can’t tell due to the colour cast). Everything takes place very slowly in this world (except gunshot deaths, of course), allowing us to be transported back to another time.
Given the space in this film for pause and reflection, it is surprising that the story is actually quite hard to follow. There are lots of mangy, foul-speaking men who bear grudges against Jesse James and vice versa, but it is rarely made clear who they are and why the friction exists between them. Everything is very vague and unspoken, which certainly adds to the barren beauty of the piece, but produces a confused audience enjoying a less than compelling experience. Nevertheless, this is a lovely piece of work to see on the big screen, with a dream-like atmosphere that will stay with you for days.
Tuesday, 13 November 2007
Monday, 12 November 2007
Review - Sicko
Many people felt, like I did, that Michael Moore took a wrong turning with Fahrenheit 9/11; it all went a bit too far. The searing and sensitive examination of desolation in his home town in Roger & Me, and the masterful patchwork of Bowling for Columbine (which both mainly focused on the predicaments and foibles of ordinary Americans) seemed to be replaced with self-serving bombast. Although a persuasive and moving piece of work, Fahrenheit left a bad taste in my mouth, perhaps because Moore had left any pretence of balance and fairness behind when he stated that the purpose of the film was to get Bush out of the White House. It left an even worse taste when it failed.
With Sicko, his examination of the American medical system (or lack thereof), he has gone back to basics, producing another heartbreaking, heart-warming, and totally engrossing film. This is a subject he covered often in his TV series, TV Nation and The Awful Truth, but demands to be covered again. The stories he shows of people suffering and dying needlessly in the richest country in the World, all because of the greed of the insurance companies, are (excuse the pun) completely sickening. Now, Michael Moore may always approach a topic with an agenda, but his agenda here is to give poor people decent medical care. He may select facts carefully, but the fact that the denial of treatment is company policy in these organisations, and that this is sanctioned by the government, obliterates any arguments for keeping the status quo.
Sicko made me proud to be British (or, less specifically and more accurately, European), and so grateful for our National Health Service (NHS). Now, granted, it is a far from perfect system (hospital-borne infection rates and the treatment of the elderly are national scandals, and that’s just for starters), but for most of the people, most of the time it works at least adequately and it is free. It seems completely anathema to me, or to any European, to have to pay for treatment; we would see it as going against our human rights. We take it for granted that we can visit the GP if we get a sniffle, go to casualty if we cut ourselves, and that the cost of asthma medication won’t force us to keep working into our 80s. Moore shows ex-pat Americans crying with guilt about the ‘luxuries’ they receive, when their parents, who worked hard all their lives, have to struggle.
When it comes to the passionate polemic, the call to arms of downtrodden Americans, the highlighting of crippling unfairness, none can beat Moore; his work makes you laugh out loud one minute, and cry the next. Some may say he is a cynical manipulator of emotions, and even if that is the case, with Sicko his view is so morally correct that I applaud the manipulation, as it might make people angry enough to do something about it. I really believe that if Americans adopted socialised healthcare (as the rest of the Developed World has), then almost instantaneously they would never imagine going back to the old system: a system that dumps people without insurance outside homeless shelters in the dead of night. That refuses care to dying children. That bankrupts decent, hardworking families. That makes billions of dollars every year.
With Sicko, his examination of the American medical system (or lack thereof), he has gone back to basics, producing another heartbreaking, heart-warming, and totally engrossing film. This is a subject he covered often in his TV series, TV Nation and The Awful Truth, but demands to be covered again. The stories he shows of people suffering and dying needlessly in the richest country in the World, all because of the greed of the insurance companies, are (excuse the pun) completely sickening. Now, Michael Moore may always approach a topic with an agenda, but his agenda here is to give poor people decent medical care. He may select facts carefully, but the fact that the denial of treatment is company policy in these organisations, and that this is sanctioned by the government, obliterates any arguments for keeping the status quo.
Sicko made me proud to be British (or, less specifically and more accurately, European), and so grateful for our National Health Service (NHS). Now, granted, it is a far from perfect system (hospital-borne infection rates and the treatment of the elderly are national scandals, and that’s just for starters), but for most of the people, most of the time it works at least adequately and it is free. It seems completely anathema to me, or to any European, to have to pay for treatment; we would see it as going against our human rights. We take it for granted that we can visit the GP if we get a sniffle, go to casualty if we cut ourselves, and that the cost of asthma medication won’t force us to keep working into our 80s. Moore shows ex-pat Americans crying with guilt about the ‘luxuries’ they receive, when their parents, who worked hard all their lives, have to struggle.
When it comes to the passionate polemic, the call to arms of downtrodden Americans, the highlighting of crippling unfairness, none can beat Moore; his work makes you laugh out loud one minute, and cry the next. Some may say he is a cynical manipulator of emotions, and even if that is the case, with Sicko his view is so morally correct that I applaud the manipulation, as it might make people angry enough to do something about it. I really believe that if Americans adopted socialised healthcare (as the rest of the Developed World has), then almost instantaneously they would never imagine going back to the old system: a system that dumps people without insurance outside homeless shelters in the dead of night. That refuses care to dying children. That bankrupts decent, hardworking families. That makes billions of dollars every year.
Monday, 5 November 2007
London Film Festival Review - Juno
Juno is the story of the unusually-named Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page), a 16 year-old who finds herself pregnant. Automatically choosing an abortion at first, she changes her mind and decides to have the baby and give it away to a deserving couple. Hoping to find some cool artsy types in need of a child, or at least some lesbians, she finds an ad placed by Vanessa (Jennifer Garner) and Mark (Jason Bateman) Loring, a yuppie couple in an immaculate house who are desperate for a baby. Will she give them the baby? Will she get back with its father? Will her parents forgive her?
I’m making this film sound like a dreadful issue-of-the-week melodrama, when really it is anything but. An offbeat comedy-drama, the easiest way to describe it would be ‘Enid from Ghost World gets pregnant’, but that would be a flippant oversimplification. Although ostensibly dealing with ‘issues’, the script (the first screenplay by Diablo Cody) offers no universal answers to the problems of the characters; these are people choosing the decisions that are right for them, and not judging anyone else for theirs. Juno is made up of small moments, some hilarious, some heartbreakingly poignant. Cody has an amazing and unusual turn of phrase. Using no ‘jokes’ as such, the film manages to be very funny through the use of some strange expressions and slang; I wish I was capable of talking as creatively as Juno.
Ellen Page, who impressed in Hard Candy, turns in another bravura performance in the title role. Acerbic and independent, Juno is a girl who knows what she wants (most of the time), and doesn’t care what other people think. She comes across as a real person, a person miles away from any high school stereotype. Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman put it lovely, nuanced performances as two wounded souls, and Bateman’s fellow Arrested Development alumnus Michael Cerra does his usual ‘nervous geek’ shtick with aplomb as Juno’s almost-boyfriend (I like to hope he has some range as an actor, but I have no evidence of this as yet).
The director, Jason Reitman (son of Ghost Busters’ director, Ivan Reitman) has made a thoughtful and entertaining film that takes the feelings of its characters seriously. Teenagers will enjoy seeing people like them being appreciated as fully-rounded humans with valid emotions, and anyone who likes something a little bit different should enjoy this low-key and unusual story. Juno is the perfect antidote to carbon-copy Hollywood fare.
I’m making this film sound like a dreadful issue-of-the-week melodrama, when really it is anything but. An offbeat comedy-drama, the easiest way to describe it would be ‘Enid from Ghost World gets pregnant’, but that would be a flippant oversimplification. Although ostensibly dealing with ‘issues’, the script (the first screenplay by Diablo Cody) offers no universal answers to the problems of the characters; these are people choosing the decisions that are right for them, and not judging anyone else for theirs. Juno is made up of small moments, some hilarious, some heartbreakingly poignant. Cody has an amazing and unusual turn of phrase. Using no ‘jokes’ as such, the film manages to be very funny through the use of some strange expressions and slang; I wish I was capable of talking as creatively as Juno.
Ellen Page, who impressed in Hard Candy, turns in another bravura performance in the title role. Acerbic and independent, Juno is a girl who knows what she wants (most of the time), and doesn’t care what other people think. She comes across as a real person, a person miles away from any high school stereotype. Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman put it lovely, nuanced performances as two wounded souls, and Bateman’s fellow Arrested Development alumnus Michael Cerra does his usual ‘nervous geek’ shtick with aplomb as Juno’s almost-boyfriend (I like to hope he has some range as an actor, but I have no evidence of this as yet).
The director, Jason Reitman (son of Ghost Busters’ director, Ivan Reitman) has made a thoughtful and entertaining film that takes the feelings of its characters seriously. Teenagers will enjoy seeing people like them being appreciated as fully-rounded humans with valid emotions, and anyone who likes something a little bit different should enjoy this low-key and unusual story. Juno is the perfect antidote to carbon-copy Hollywood fare.
Sunday, 4 November 2007
London Film Festival Review - Planet Terror
Planet Terror is the other half of Grindhouse, the Tarantino/Rodriguez double-feature that began with the supercool Death Proof. Concentrating on schlocky action and gore rather than dialogue and soundtrack, it is a much more conventional film than the first part, but still a gloriously fun ride with tongue firmly in cheek.
Set in a rather grimy Austin shortly after the first half of Death Proof (a bad few weeks to visit the city, by all accounts), the story follows the results of a chemical leak at a military base, and the escape of the survivors from the zombie-like creatures it created. The set-up is quite perfunctory, allowing all hell to break loose for most of the film as zombies splatter humans and vice versa.
Freddy Rodriguez (lovely Rico from wonderful Six Feet Under) and Rose McGowan lead the cast, and look like they are having such fun kicking zombie butt. Marley Shelton also stands out, appearing amazingly dazed yet determined throughout as Dr. Dakota Block (finally, the ‘Doc-tor Block’ scene in Death Proof makes sense now!), and there is a great little part for Bruce Willis. Quentin Tarantino actually acts well here! I think he is only good in things when playing a quiet psycho; when he plays a talkative person more like himself, he is strangely much less believable.
This is a very silly film, and whilst it is not as laugh-out-loud funny as the similarly-themed Shaun of the Dead (or as much of an out-and-out parody), it has its comedic moments, as well as some pretty grim gore. With a fake trailer at the beginning and a missing reel in the middle, this had more of the ‘fake grindhouse film’ elements than the individual version of Death Proof released in cinemas here, adding to the fun. I would say this was like a sequel to Rodriguez’s Tarantino-penned From Dusk Till Dawn, had that film already had two sequels (neither directed by Rodriguez). Those who enjoyed the end of that film, and fans of the zombie genre in general, are going to love the barmy set-pieces and stock characters on display here.
Set in a rather grimy Austin shortly after the first half of Death Proof (a bad few weeks to visit the city, by all accounts), the story follows the results of a chemical leak at a military base, and the escape of the survivors from the zombie-like creatures it created. The set-up is quite perfunctory, allowing all hell to break loose for most of the film as zombies splatter humans and vice versa.
Freddy Rodriguez (lovely Rico from wonderful Six Feet Under) and Rose McGowan lead the cast, and look like they are having such fun kicking zombie butt. Marley Shelton also stands out, appearing amazingly dazed yet determined throughout as Dr. Dakota Block (finally, the ‘Doc-tor Block’ scene in Death Proof makes sense now!), and there is a great little part for Bruce Willis. Quentin Tarantino actually acts well here! I think he is only good in things when playing a quiet psycho; when he plays a talkative person more like himself, he is strangely much less believable.
This is a very silly film, and whilst it is not as laugh-out-loud funny as the similarly-themed Shaun of the Dead (or as much of an out-and-out parody), it has its comedic moments, as well as some pretty grim gore. With a fake trailer at the beginning and a missing reel in the middle, this had more of the ‘fake grindhouse film’ elements than the individual version of Death Proof released in cinemas here, adding to the fun. I would say this was like a sequel to Rodriguez’s Tarantino-penned From Dusk Till Dawn, had that film already had two sequels (neither directed by Rodriguez). Those who enjoyed the end of that film, and fans of the zombie genre in general, are going to love the barmy set-pieces and stock characters on display here.
Saturday, 3 November 2007
Review - Ratatouille
Ratatouille continues the Pixar tradition of producing highly polished and lovable animated films that appeal to both children and adults. Their presentation begins with a short cartoon called Lifted, a nicely old-fashioned tale of alien abduction that could have been made by Chuck Jones during the golden age of animation, had he been given the technology through a rogue wormhole. The main feature is the story of a rat from rural France called Remy who has an unusually sensitive sense of smell. Taking a different life path from Jean-Baptiste Grenouille in Perfume, he uses his gift to improve the taste of any dish a human makes, even those of the best chefs. Finding himself in Paris, he seeks out the restaurant of his idol, a recently deceased tv chef, and manages to show off his culinary skills with the help of a lowly kitchen boy called Linguini.
The quality of animation here is, as always with Pixar, outstanding, especially when it comes to the rats and the views of Paris. It is a relief to not have a cast list unnecessarily stuffed full with big names (something that was distracting with films like Happy Feet), and everyone performs well. Peter O’Toole really stands out as Anton Ego, a morose and ghostly restaurant critic, matching the voice to the character perfectly.
Remy’s tale of the underdog achieving against great odds (and these are very big odds, as it is extremely disturbing to see a rat cooking, even a cartoon one) is very appealing, especially since he is extremely adorable and furry-looking. There was one anomaly (apart from the obvious ‘rat being a chef’ thing), however, that annoyed me slightly: accents are not consistent. The story takes place in France, and the rats have American accents. This is ok, since they are speaking Rat, and maybe rats have American accents when you translate Rat to English, I don’t know. Humans spoke English with a French accent (again completely acceptable), except for Linguini, who again had an American accent. Is he speaking Rat? No! And all the other humans could understand him! Is he supposed to be French, American, or Italian as his name would suggest? This is never made clear, and troubles me greatly.
Apart from that, it was really good. There are lots of very funny jokes, and a nice message at the end, which is exactly what you want in a film like this.
The quality of animation here is, as always with Pixar, outstanding, especially when it comes to the rats and the views of Paris. It is a relief to not have a cast list unnecessarily stuffed full with big names (something that was distracting with films like Happy Feet), and everyone performs well. Peter O’Toole really stands out as Anton Ego, a morose and ghostly restaurant critic, matching the voice to the character perfectly.
Remy’s tale of the underdog achieving against great odds (and these are very big odds, as it is extremely disturbing to see a rat cooking, even a cartoon one) is very appealing, especially since he is extremely adorable and furry-looking. There was one anomaly (apart from the obvious ‘rat being a chef’ thing), however, that annoyed me slightly: accents are not consistent. The story takes place in France, and the rats have American accents. This is ok, since they are speaking Rat, and maybe rats have American accents when you translate Rat to English, I don’t know. Humans spoke English with a French accent (again completely acceptable), except for Linguini, who again had an American accent. Is he speaking Rat? No! And all the other humans could understand him! Is he supposed to be French, American, or Italian as his name would suggest? This is never made clear, and troubles me greatly.
Apart from that, it was really good. There are lots of very funny jokes, and a nice message at the end, which is exactly what you want in a film like this.
Sunday, 30 September 2007
World Premiere Review - Being Michael Madsen
I was lucky enough to see the world premiere of this mockumentary at the Raindance Film Festival in London, with the titular Coolest Man on the Planet in attendance. A light satire on the paparazzi, entertainment industry and the self-righteousness of documentary film makers, this low-budget indie comedy is good for a few laughs.
Michael Madsen, playing himself, has been accused of killing an extra on one of his films by a slimeball paparazzo, Billy Dant (Jason Alan Smith). He sues Dant for slander, but when he loses, decides to teach him a lesson by sending a documentary film crew to stalk him and give him a taste of his own medicine. The plot reveals itself mostly through talking head interviews, and it takes a while for the film to warm up and for it to become clear what is going on. Once it gets going, though, it is quite funny and compelling.
Davis Mikaels, Kathy Searle and Doug Tompos are great as the film crew, each in the business for very different reasons, and all ringing true to life. The real draws, however, are the cameo talking heads by friends of Madsen, like David Carradine, Harry Dean Stanton, Daryl Hannah and his sister, Virginia Madsen, all making fun of themselves.
The film reminded me in places of a Christopher Guest one, and I certainly enjoyed it as much as For Your Consideration, which is on a similar subject (although also the least good of Guest’s films). For something that only took ten days to shoot, the film makers have done an amazing job. Unfortunately, it perhaps still doesn’t add up to enough for a cinema release. Being Michael Madsen should find its home on DVD or on something like HBO, where it will give fans of Mr. Madsen a treat, and everyone else a diverting hour and a half.
Michael Madsen, playing himself, has been accused of killing an extra on one of his films by a slimeball paparazzo, Billy Dant (Jason Alan Smith). He sues Dant for slander, but when he loses, decides to teach him a lesson by sending a documentary film crew to stalk him and give him a taste of his own medicine. The plot reveals itself mostly through talking head interviews, and it takes a while for the film to warm up and for it to become clear what is going on. Once it gets going, though, it is quite funny and compelling.
Davis Mikaels, Kathy Searle and Doug Tompos are great as the film crew, each in the business for very different reasons, and all ringing true to life. The real draws, however, are the cameo talking heads by friends of Madsen, like David Carradine, Harry Dean Stanton, Daryl Hannah and his sister, Virginia Madsen, all making fun of themselves.
The film reminded me in places of a Christopher Guest one, and I certainly enjoyed it as much as For Your Consideration, which is on a similar subject (although also the least good of Guest’s films). For something that only took ten days to shoot, the film makers have done an amazing job. Unfortunately, it perhaps still doesn’t add up to enough for a cinema release. Being Michael Madsen should find its home on DVD or on something like HBO, where it will give fans of Mr. Madsen a treat, and everyone else a diverting hour and a half.
Saturday, 29 September 2007
Review - Death Proof
I am a huge Tarantino fan. And I mean huge. Not literally, of course, in reality I am quite petite, but I am huge in the loving-Quentin-Tarantino’s-films department. Obviously I was very excited about seeing Death Proof, as a new Tarantino release is a rare occurrence. But then I heard bad things about it, disappointed reviews from critics that professed to love Tarantino’s back catalogue, but just couldn’t get this. I began my first viewing with a heavy heart, but that didn’t last long. Although a slightly odd film, with passages that don’t quite scan on first viewing, Death Proof has lots of great dialogue and supercool moments that only Tarantino can do, which means it is worth a watch by everyone.
Death Proof was originally the second part of Grindhouse, a joint venture with Robert Rodriguez that did not go down well in America because people apparently couldn’t get the concept of a double feature. It may also have been because this project is really a minority pursuit; not everyone is interested in reliving the idiosyncrasies of bad 70s cinema, and perhaps they shouldn’t have expected a general young audience to get very enthused (stupid young people!). Harvey Weinstein has decided to split the film for its international release. As with the splitting in two of Kill Bill, this has allowed the addition of extra footage, and as with Kill Bill (specifically vol. 2) it may have been a better idea to keep it tighter as originally intended.
The story revolves around the actions of Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), a stuntman with an unusual hobby: he enjoys driving his cool, black, reinforced car at speed into cars filled with beautiful young women, killing them instantly. We follow his victims on their night out in Austin Texas in the first half of the film, and then move on to Lebanon, Tennesse, where Stuntman Mike has decided to mess with the wrong girls.
The plot is quite thin, though compelling in a lurid way; what fills most of the screen time is the girls’ fast, sassy Tarantino-speak. Watching this you get an idea of how Tarantino would write an episode of Sex and the City, which makes it a pity that the series is over. For some, the pace may be a bit ponderous, but building up a relationship with these characters is important for when the inevitable happens. These are cool, clever women in control, a rare thing in movies; their presence shouldn’t be that surprising, as Tarantino’s female characters have always been strong and intelligent. Interestingly, the male characters are all wallies, wimps, or a psychopathic killer, almost playthings for the girls.
Russell gives a very charming and manacing performance when on screen, as most of the time he is just malevolent presence in the background. The girls are all great (although Jordan Ladd as Shanna is very annoying, I hope intentionally), with special mention to Vanessa Ferlito as Arlene for her astounding lap dance. I also really enjoyed Rosario Dawson, Tracie Thoms, a blonde Rose McGowan, and Sydney Tamaii Poitier as the rather frightening Jungle Julia, a six foot DJ. Zoë Bell (Uma Thurman’s stunt double on Kill Bill) plays herself, proving she must be certifiable with her death-defying stunts. As with all Tarantino films, one of the best characters is the soundtrack, and we are treated to some great and surprising choices that leave their mark on every scene.
This film is by its very nature choppy, split in two almost, and there are some moments that don’t seem to fit at first. But if you can get past those issues, then this is a very enjoyable ride, with many awesome moments and heaps of girl power.
Death Proof was originally the second part of Grindhouse, a joint venture with Robert Rodriguez that did not go down well in America because people apparently couldn’t get the concept of a double feature. It may also have been because this project is really a minority pursuit; not everyone is interested in reliving the idiosyncrasies of bad 70s cinema, and perhaps they shouldn’t have expected a general young audience to get very enthused (stupid young people!). Harvey Weinstein has decided to split the film for its international release. As with the splitting in two of Kill Bill, this has allowed the addition of extra footage, and as with Kill Bill (specifically vol. 2) it may have been a better idea to keep it tighter as originally intended.
The story revolves around the actions of Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), a stuntman with an unusual hobby: he enjoys driving his cool, black, reinforced car at speed into cars filled with beautiful young women, killing them instantly. We follow his victims on their night out in Austin Texas in the first half of the film, and then move on to Lebanon, Tennesse, where Stuntman Mike has decided to mess with the wrong girls.
The plot is quite thin, though compelling in a lurid way; what fills most of the screen time is the girls’ fast, sassy Tarantino-speak. Watching this you get an idea of how Tarantino would write an episode of Sex and the City, which makes it a pity that the series is over. For some, the pace may be a bit ponderous, but building up a relationship with these characters is important for when the inevitable happens. These are cool, clever women in control, a rare thing in movies; their presence shouldn’t be that surprising, as Tarantino’s female characters have always been strong and intelligent. Interestingly, the male characters are all wallies, wimps, or a psychopathic killer, almost playthings for the girls.
Russell gives a very charming and manacing performance when on screen, as most of the time he is just malevolent presence in the background. The girls are all great (although Jordan Ladd as Shanna is very annoying, I hope intentionally), with special mention to Vanessa Ferlito as Arlene for her astounding lap dance. I also really enjoyed Rosario Dawson, Tracie Thoms, a blonde Rose McGowan, and Sydney Tamaii Poitier as the rather frightening Jungle Julia, a six foot DJ. Zoë Bell (Uma Thurman’s stunt double on Kill Bill) plays herself, proving she must be certifiable with her death-defying stunts. As with all Tarantino films, one of the best characters is the soundtrack, and we are treated to some great and surprising choices that leave their mark on every scene.
This film is by its very nature choppy, split in two almost, and there are some moments that don’t seem to fit at first. But if you can get past those issues, then this is a very enjoyable ride, with many awesome moments and heaps of girl power.
Tuesday, 4 September 2007
Review - 1408
This light horror, based on a short story by Stephen King, follows a man with a very unusual job. Mike Enslin (John Cusack) is a washed-up novelist who now makes his living investigating claims of haunted hotels, graveyards and the like. Although he wants to believe, he has never seen anything remotely supernatural on his many fact-finding missions for his hokey books. When he hears about the ‘evil’ room 1408 at the Dolphin Hotel, he decides to spend the night there, despite the protestations of the manager. The scene is set for a nightmarish evening in a very scary hotel room.
1408 is refreshingly short of blood and guts for a modern horror, but delivers chills rather than out-and-out terror. The neat set-up of the hotel room allows the director Mikael Håfström to build up the creepiness and weirdness, but it also makes this film a definite one man show (the lovely Tony Shalhoub and Samuel L. Jackson are relegated to one scene each). Luckily Cusack really commits to the role and gives a great performance. There are some problems, though. The ending feels very abrupt, and it all goes a bit Silent Hill on our collective asses with the appearance of a few unexplained dusty monsters that just don’t fit in. This is still an enjoyable film if you want a few scares, but perhaps aficionados of the horror genre will be a little disappointed.
1408 is refreshingly short of blood and guts for a modern horror, but delivers chills rather than out-and-out terror. The neat set-up of the hotel room allows the director Mikael Håfström to build up the creepiness and weirdness, but it also makes this film a definite one man show (the lovely Tony Shalhoub and Samuel L. Jackson are relegated to one scene each). Luckily Cusack really commits to the role and gives a great performance. There are some problems, though. The ending feels very abrupt, and it all goes a bit Silent Hill on our collective asses with the appearance of a few unexplained dusty monsters that just don’t fit in. This is still an enjoyable film if you want a few scares, but perhaps aficionados of the horror genre will be a little disappointed.
Monday, 3 September 2007
Review - Superbad
Teen Movies can be the crudest of things (think Porky’s), but they can also be the sweetest, capturing a confusing time truthfully and defining an era (think The Breakfast Club). Superbad manages to be both crude and sweet, as well as scream-out-loud funny. This is a must-see film for anyone who loves dick jokes and tales of friendship.
High School seniors Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cerra) have been friends since forever, and they have one long summer ahead of them before they go off to different colleges. Realising that the end of year bash is their last opportunity to sleep with the girls from their year, they hatch a plan to impress their potential mates by buying booze for the party (illegally, this being America). The patsy in this cunning plan is their hanger-on Fogell, played by the wonderful newcomer Christopher Mintz-Plasse (imagine Dustin Diamond’s younger, weedier brother), who has just got a totally unconvincing fake ID. Their quest to get the girls of their dreams leads them to a crazy night of robberies, useless cops, beatings and nutcases.
It’s lovely to see Cerra (George Michael from the much-missed Arrested Development) transfer deservedly to the big screen, and Hill is definitely a star in the making. Like the performances, the joke writing here is excellent, with a plethora of quotable lines. What really seals the deal, however, are the characters, based on the writers themselves when they were teenagers; this explains why the friendship between brash, confident outsider Seth and quiet geek Evan rings so true. Superbad takes a bit of time to warm up and establish itself, but it settles in to become one of the funniest films of the year, as well as a worthy successor to the John Hughes classics of teen love and friendship.
High School seniors Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cerra) have been friends since forever, and they have one long summer ahead of them before they go off to different colleges. Realising that the end of year bash is their last opportunity to sleep with the girls from their year, they hatch a plan to impress their potential mates by buying booze for the party (illegally, this being America). The patsy in this cunning plan is their hanger-on Fogell, played by the wonderful newcomer Christopher Mintz-Plasse (imagine Dustin Diamond’s younger, weedier brother), who has just got a totally unconvincing fake ID. Their quest to get the girls of their dreams leads them to a crazy night of robberies, useless cops, beatings and nutcases.
It’s lovely to see Cerra (George Michael from the much-missed Arrested Development) transfer deservedly to the big screen, and Hill is definitely a star in the making. Like the performances, the joke writing here is excellent, with a plethora of quotable lines. What really seals the deal, however, are the characters, based on the writers themselves when they were teenagers; this explains why the friendship between brash, confident outsider Seth and quiet geek Evan rings so true. Superbad takes a bit of time to warm up and establish itself, but it settles in to become one of the funniest films of the year, as well as a worthy successor to the John Hughes classics of teen love and friendship.
Tuesday, 7 August 2007
Review - Transformers
The Transformers toys were such a craze in the 80s because they required your input, they were both cars and robots, and one turned into a cassette (what was that about?). The animated series that was created to sell them was surprisingly good too. And so we now have the inevitable and highly anticipated film adaptation by Michael Bay, king of the mindless blockbuster. It delivers just what you expect: lots of really cool robots fighting, lots of cars going really fast, and lots of in-jokes and references for fans. Unfortunately, since it’s a Michael Bay film, it also delivers the wafer-thin plots and ridiculous characters you expect.
Thousands of years ago the planet of Cybertron was devastated by the war between the Autobots (decent robots that can change their shape) and the Deceptacons (power-hungry, evil robots that can change their shape). This war is now spilling over into our world, as both sides try to find a mysterious and powerful cube that is somewhere on Earth. For reasons that are not unclear, but stupid, only a geeky teenager (Shia LaBeouf) can save the day – with the help of his new robot friends, of course.
The story also follows other people affected by the robot invasion, including a soldier, a politician, and a ridiculously pretty and made-up (just when does she find time to re-apply her lip-gloss?) computer geek, who is also inexplicably Australian. Everyone seems to be inexplicably Australian at the moment. Well, people in House and Sue Thomas: F.B.Eye are too, and I call that a pattern. It was weird for me to see Jon Voight (oh, Coming Home, how I love you so!) playing the Defence Secretary squaring up against a bunch of robots, but even weirder to see Barton Fink (John Turturro) playing a moody official.
The Transformers themselves are definitely the most interesting and the most realistic things in the film; the CGI is outstanding. Those Citroën adverts that everyone loves, with the silly burpy music, have been royally trumped by these robots. It is a little hard to follow the fight scenes, since they become clumps of moving, twisted metal, but Optimus Prime, Bumblebee and Co. are never less than astonishing. The script is full of silly jokes, and the frenetic pace and schizophrenic editing mean that you could never be bored watching it, even if you really wanted to. The discerning art house cinema regular will want to, though, and will feel dirty after seeing it. But if you’re a fan of Transformers or silly Hollywood action films, then you will definitely have fun. All in all, a bit of a laugh, but not a film to analyse on the way home.
Thousands of years ago the planet of Cybertron was devastated by the war between the Autobots (decent robots that can change their shape) and the Deceptacons (power-hungry, evil robots that can change their shape). This war is now spilling over into our world, as both sides try to find a mysterious and powerful cube that is somewhere on Earth. For reasons that are not unclear, but stupid, only a geeky teenager (Shia LaBeouf) can save the day – with the help of his new robot friends, of course.
The story also follows other people affected by the robot invasion, including a soldier, a politician, and a ridiculously pretty and made-up (just when does she find time to re-apply her lip-gloss?) computer geek, who is also inexplicably Australian. Everyone seems to be inexplicably Australian at the moment. Well, people in House and Sue Thomas: F.B.Eye are too, and I call that a pattern. It was weird for me to see Jon Voight (oh, Coming Home, how I love you so!) playing the Defence Secretary squaring up against a bunch of robots, but even weirder to see Barton Fink (John Turturro) playing a moody official.
The Transformers themselves are definitely the most interesting and the most realistic things in the film; the CGI is outstanding. Those Citroën adverts that everyone loves, with the silly burpy music, have been royally trumped by these robots. It is a little hard to follow the fight scenes, since they become clumps of moving, twisted metal, but Optimus Prime, Bumblebee and Co. are never less than astonishing. The script is full of silly jokes, and the frenetic pace and schizophrenic editing mean that you could never be bored watching it, even if you really wanted to. The discerning art house cinema regular will want to, though, and will feel dirty after seeing it. But if you’re a fan of Transformers or silly Hollywood action films, then you will definitely have fun. All in all, a bit of a laugh, but not a film to analyse on the way home.
Sunday, 5 August 2007
Review - Die Hard 4.0
The fear with any successful series is that whilst you obviously eagerly await the next instalment, you are at the same time fearful of it sullying your happy memories of what came previously. The original Die Hard managed to at once create a new genre, and become the best example of it. Luckily the mix of audacious stunts, excitement, and one-liners remains in the fourth in the series, Die Hard 4.0 (or Live Free or Die Hard as it is called in America, where you can apparently stomach such a title without a significant dose of irony, given today’s political situation).
It’s another average day for John McClane (Bruce Willis), everyone’s favourite grouchy, sweaty maverick cop, until another megalomaniac (Timothy Oliphant) decides to ruin it, this time by crashing the world’s computer systems and therefore causing mayhem. McClane is the one man who can stop him, armed only with his sense of duty, lack of respect for Health and Safety, and a supergeek (Justin Long). What follows is a rollicking rollercoaster of a film, full of explosions, incredible stunts, and twisty turns.
Willis is of course excellent in the role that made his name in film. Long, who will always be Warren from Ed to me, is extremely funny as McClane’s antithesis, and it was wonderful to see Kevin Smith as an even super-er geek (his perfect part) adding even more comic fun to the mix. Oliphant is not as deliciously maniacal in a pantomime way as previous Die Hard villains, coming across as more of a spurned trust-fund baby rather than pure evil, but sneers well all the same. The set pieces are jaw-dropping in their chutzpah, and make this the perfect popcorn movie. Definitely the best of this summer’s blockbusters so far, Die Hard 4.0 maintains McClane’s standing as the king of the action film.
It’s another average day for John McClane (Bruce Willis), everyone’s favourite grouchy, sweaty maverick cop, until another megalomaniac (Timothy Oliphant) decides to ruin it, this time by crashing the world’s computer systems and therefore causing mayhem. McClane is the one man who can stop him, armed only with his sense of duty, lack of respect for Health and Safety, and a supergeek (Justin Long). What follows is a rollicking rollercoaster of a film, full of explosions, incredible stunts, and twisty turns.
Willis is of course excellent in the role that made his name in film. Long, who will always be Warren from Ed to me, is extremely funny as McClane’s antithesis, and it was wonderful to see Kevin Smith as an even super-er geek (his perfect part) adding even more comic fun to the mix. Oliphant is not as deliciously maniacal in a pantomime way as previous Die Hard villains, coming across as more of a spurned trust-fund baby rather than pure evil, but sneers well all the same. The set pieces are jaw-dropping in their chutzpah, and make this the perfect popcorn movie. Definitely the best of this summer’s blockbusters so far, Die Hard 4.0 maintains McClane’s standing as the king of the action film.
Review - 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer
As previously mentioned, I’m a big Marvel fan, and the Fantastic Four happen to be one of my favourites. The first film in this serious was not a total success, but what it did very well was set up the squabbling dynamics of comics’ First Family. The sequel continues in this tradition, and successfully introduces another important member of the Marvel Universe. Unfortunately, it suffers from the first instalment’s problem with storyline and set pieces.
The film opens with Sue and Reed planning their wedding and their future life outside of super-heroics, much to the disappointment of their team mates Johnny and Ben. The ceremony is rudely interrupted by a mysterious silver figure on a surfboard causing mayhem in Manhattan. This is the Silver Surfer, the herald of Galactus: Devourer of Worlds, and not your ideal wedding guest. The Surfer’s arrival, you see, signifies that there are just a few days for Mr Fantastic, the Invisible Woman, The Human Torch, and The Thing to stop this world being devoured too.
The Surfer looks great; it’s such a relief to see a comic character remain unchanged in the journey from page to screen, but with the Silver Surfer, this is unsurprising. He is so cool-looking, and would be designed the same today as he was in the 60s. All the four main players fit their characters very well, taking the Mickey out of each other whilst still being adorable (apart from when Mr Fantastic is using his powers, which is just creepy). I do wish they’d left out Dr. Doom, though, a character that didn’t work in the first film; his presence here is unnecessary and not well explained. The physical appearance of Galactus was a bit of a disappointment, too. However, it is possible to just lie back and enjoy the nice jokes and special effects, and not analyse the plot too much. If one does that, then this move is a fun ride.
The film opens with Sue and Reed planning their wedding and their future life outside of super-heroics, much to the disappointment of their team mates Johnny and Ben. The ceremony is rudely interrupted by a mysterious silver figure on a surfboard causing mayhem in Manhattan. This is the Silver Surfer, the herald of Galactus: Devourer of Worlds, and not your ideal wedding guest. The Surfer’s arrival, you see, signifies that there are just a few days for Mr Fantastic, the Invisible Woman, The Human Torch, and The Thing to stop this world being devoured too.
The Surfer looks great; it’s such a relief to see a comic character remain unchanged in the journey from page to screen, but with the Silver Surfer, this is unsurprising. He is so cool-looking, and would be designed the same today as he was in the 60s. All the four main players fit their characters very well, taking the Mickey out of each other whilst still being adorable (apart from when Mr Fantastic is using his powers, which is just creepy). I do wish they’d left out Dr. Doom, though, a character that didn’t work in the first film; his presence here is unnecessary and not well explained. The physical appearance of Galactus was a bit of a disappointment, too. However, it is possible to just lie back and enjoy the nice jokes and special effects, and not analyse the plot too much. If one does that, then this move is a fun ride.
Review - Ocean's Thirteen
I have never been more bored in a cinema than when watching Ocean’s Thirteen. Silent Hill was excruciating, but at least I was confused and mildly repulsed, sustaining my interest minutely. This film, on the other hand, is such a one-note affair, with no emotional content whatsoever, that it is hard to stay awake. For a film about a daring heist, this is quite an achievement.
The problem is that everyone is trying to be so suave that they turn into nothing more than cool robots: coolbots, if you will. These coolbots, with the faces of usually charming actors (Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Matt Damon et al.) wander around organising the comeuppance of a casino owner (an unusually subdued Al Pacino, considering he’s playing the baddy) for two long hours. Given the lousy, slow, unfunny build up, you’d have hoped for an exciting denouement when the actual heist occurs, but even that is boring. The trouble with really cool people is that they don’t care about anything; if the characters relished all this double-crossing and the thrill of the chase (if there was a thrill of the chase, even), this would have been a diverting movie. As it is, it’s Yawnsville.
The production design, on the other hand, is excellent. The sets are easily the most interesting bit of the film, so if you have to see this, keep your eyes on the background.
The problem is that everyone is trying to be so suave that they turn into nothing more than cool robots: coolbots, if you will. These coolbots, with the faces of usually charming actors (Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Matt Damon et al.) wander around organising the comeuppance of a casino owner (an unusually subdued Al Pacino, considering he’s playing the baddy) for two long hours. Given the lousy, slow, unfunny build up, you’d have hoped for an exciting denouement when the actual heist occurs, but even that is boring. The trouble with really cool people is that they don’t care about anything; if the characters relished all this double-crossing and the thrill of the chase (if there was a thrill of the chase, even), this would have been a diverting movie. As it is, it’s Yawnsville.
The production design, on the other hand, is excellent. The sets are easily the most interesting bit of the film, so if you have to see this, keep your eyes on the background.
Thursday, 26 July 2007
Review - Magicians
Magicians has the same writers and cast as Peep Show, so I was very excited about seing it, as I love that sitcom. I quote it most days. In fact, I am basically Mark Corrigan. Unfortunately Magicians isn’t as good as Peep Show, but it still tickled my funny bone.
David Mitchell and Robert Webb (them off the British Mac adverts, if you are an idiot and don’t watch Peep Show) play a duo of successful magicians. After a particularly nasty incident, the two vow never to speak and go their separate ways, both ways leading to obscurity. Years later, they enter the same magic competition, intent to out-do the other.
The plot is perfectly adequate, and allows for lots of cameos and some nice romantic subplots. Jessica Hynes (née Stevenson, co-creator of Spaced, making me wish all over again that she was doing as well as Simon Pegg) was absolutely lovely as Mitchell’s love interest, and the great Peter Capaldi was as deliciously mean as ever in the role of the competition’s judge. The two leads play the same characters they always play, just a bit nicer (so, basically themselves, then). Unsurprisingly, they can do this well.
The writing is good, but judging by the rest of the audience’s reaction, I’m not sure that it’s to everyone’s taste. However, the work of the writers Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain, laced with pop cultural references and great phrasing, is exactly what amuses me. If they hadn’t produced such great televisual work (which also includes The Thick of It), then this would be considered a good (but not great) comedy, but expectations were so high. The central device of Peep Show, having everything from the character’s perspective and hearing their inner-thoughts, is missing, and once gone you realise what a useful and important element it is. Without it we just have two quite nice magicians doing magic with some funny jokes. All in all, a missed opportunity.
David Mitchell and Robert Webb (them off the British Mac adverts, if you are an idiot and don’t watch Peep Show) play a duo of successful magicians. After a particularly nasty incident, the two vow never to speak and go their separate ways, both ways leading to obscurity. Years later, they enter the same magic competition, intent to out-do the other.
The plot is perfectly adequate, and allows for lots of cameos and some nice romantic subplots. Jessica Hynes (née Stevenson, co-creator of Spaced, making me wish all over again that she was doing as well as Simon Pegg) was absolutely lovely as Mitchell’s love interest, and the great Peter Capaldi was as deliciously mean as ever in the role of the competition’s judge. The two leads play the same characters they always play, just a bit nicer (so, basically themselves, then). Unsurprisingly, they can do this well.
The writing is good, but judging by the rest of the audience’s reaction, I’m not sure that it’s to everyone’s taste. However, the work of the writers Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain, laced with pop cultural references and great phrasing, is exactly what amuses me. If they hadn’t produced such great televisual work (which also includes The Thick of It), then this would be considered a good (but not great) comedy, but expectations were so high. The central device of Peep Show, having everything from the character’s perspective and hearing their inner-thoughts, is missing, and once gone you realise what a useful and important element it is. Without it we just have two quite nice magicians doing magic with some funny jokes. All in all, a missed opportunity.
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
Review - This is England
This is England starts with a Non-Uniform Day, something I never expected to see in a film. Unlike Americans, we British are not used to the rituals of our school lives being shown on screen. They only get on Grange Hill, and isn’t even on the telly anymore. It is little details like this that make This is England such a joy, showing vividly what it was like to grow up in Thatcher’s Britain.
It is 1983, and 12-year-old Shaun (Thomas Turgoose) is trying to come to terms with the death of his father in the Falklands. He has no friends, and the other kids tease him about his flares and his dead dad. A chance meeting with a group of skin-heads change all that, giving him somewhere to belong, almost a new family. This new sense of security is shattered by the arrival of Combo (Stephen Graham on terrifying form), a volatile National Front supporter, straight from prison, and things get serious for Shaun very quickly. The director Shane Meadows shows how it is all too easy to get sucked into this dark world. The easy answers Combo offers are attractive to this boy that has been so disappointed by life.
This is a film full of small moments, many hilarious, and all so real; it is no surprise to learn that Meadows based it on his own experiences. With the exception of Combo, all the characters are such reasonable people (something you rarely see in films), and even he is so well-drawn that he has your sympathy. The cast of largely unknowns are wonderful, completely becoming their characters; there isn’t a second where you don’t feel you are in 1983. Turgoose is great, tough but still cute, and Jo Hartley is spot-on as his concerned mum. Joseph Gilgun as Woody, the head of the nice skin-heads, is so charming, you just want to be his best friend too. Some of the funniest scenes feature the romance between Shaun and Smell, a sort of Girl George played sweetly by Rosamund Hanson.
This is England reminds me of a sort of low-key British version of Goodfellas: it takes you from hilarity to poignancy to bursts of violence to seriousness and back in a blink of an eye, and does so seamlessly. A film full of cool clothes, cooler music, quotable lines, and realistic characters, it is ripe to become a cult classic. And it may just be my favourite British film of all time.
It is 1983, and 12-year-old Shaun (Thomas Turgoose) is trying to come to terms with the death of his father in the Falklands. He has no friends, and the other kids tease him about his flares and his dead dad. A chance meeting with a group of skin-heads change all that, giving him somewhere to belong, almost a new family. This new sense of security is shattered by the arrival of Combo (Stephen Graham on terrifying form), a volatile National Front supporter, straight from prison, and things get serious for Shaun very quickly. The director Shane Meadows shows how it is all too easy to get sucked into this dark world. The easy answers Combo offers are attractive to this boy that has been so disappointed by life.
This is a film full of small moments, many hilarious, and all so real; it is no surprise to learn that Meadows based it on his own experiences. With the exception of Combo, all the characters are such reasonable people (something you rarely see in films), and even he is so well-drawn that he has your sympathy. The cast of largely unknowns are wonderful, completely becoming their characters; there isn’t a second where you don’t feel you are in 1983. Turgoose is great, tough but still cute, and Jo Hartley is spot-on as his concerned mum. Joseph Gilgun as Woody, the head of the nice skin-heads, is so charming, you just want to be his best friend too. Some of the funniest scenes feature the romance between Shaun and Smell, a sort of Girl George played sweetly by Rosamund Hanson.
This is England reminds me of a sort of low-key British version of Goodfellas: it takes you from hilarity to poignancy to bursts of violence to seriousness and back in a blink of an eye, and does so seamlessly. A film full of cool clothes, cooler music, quotable lines, and realistic characters, it is ripe to become a cult classic. And it may just be my favourite British film of all time.
Tuesday, 3 July 2007
Review - Das Leben Der Anderen (The Lives of Others)
We in Britain have had a period of unprecedented peace, freedom and prosperity in the last 60 years, so it is easy to forget that parts of Europe very near us have not been so lucky. The Lives of Others reminds us that up until 1989, half of Germany was under the heel of a very repressive regime; East Germany was an Orwellian nightmare of suspicion, fear, and knocks on the door in the middle of the night, and all in shades of beige and grey. By expertly telling the story of a few characters, the director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck has managed to at once dig up the ghosts of the past for the German people, and exorcise them somewhat. Setting aside the political aspects, this is still an excellent human story of quiet heroism.
Set in the early 1980s, the film focuses on Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch), the most successful playwright in the GDR. In fact, he is the only playwright in the GDR, since the Communist Party has deemed all others enemies of the state, forcing them to defect or go into excile. He has his leading lady, Christa-Maria (Martina Gedeck) for a lover, and friends in high places. Everything is going swimmingly for him until Christa-Maria catches the eye of a leading party official, who sets the Stasi on Georg. It is the job of Stasi officer Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe) to monitor his every move and listen to his every conversation, anything to find an indiscretion. The lives of these two men are to become intwined in a carefully crafted and very moving way.
Highlights of a great cast start with Koch, who so impressed in Zwarteboek (Black Book). Not good-looking in the conventional sense, there is still something magnetic about him; he plays the slightly bohemian, yet-still-trying-to-tow-the-party-line, Dreyman with just the right mix of confidence and uncertainty. Mühe (Kevin-Spacey-as-Lex-Luthor’s double) gives a subtle and measured performance as the shy Stasi man. So subtle and measured, in fact, that it was sometimes hard to follow what he was doing and why (my only criticism of the film, and a small one at that as the story unfolds). Gedeck creates a strong and intelligent character who is more than a love interest, something I fear is rare in English-language cinema.
The Lives of Others deservedly won the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar this year. It is a ode to the man who quietly makes a difference, who makes sacrifices and doesn’t ask for recognition. By bringing light to East Germany’s murky history, it has brought up the uncomfortable truth that people were giving up their friends and loved ones to the Secret Police only twenty years ago. By telling this one tale, many people will now feel free to tell their own.
Set in the early 1980s, the film focuses on Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch), the most successful playwright in the GDR. In fact, he is the only playwright in the GDR, since the Communist Party has deemed all others enemies of the state, forcing them to defect or go into excile. He has his leading lady, Christa-Maria (Martina Gedeck) for a lover, and friends in high places. Everything is going swimmingly for him until Christa-Maria catches the eye of a leading party official, who sets the Stasi on Georg. It is the job of Stasi officer Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe) to monitor his every move and listen to his every conversation, anything to find an indiscretion. The lives of these two men are to become intwined in a carefully crafted and very moving way.
Highlights of a great cast start with Koch, who so impressed in Zwarteboek (Black Book). Not good-looking in the conventional sense, there is still something magnetic about him; he plays the slightly bohemian, yet-still-trying-to-tow-the-party-line, Dreyman with just the right mix of confidence and uncertainty. Mühe (Kevin-Spacey-as-Lex-Luthor’s double) gives a subtle and measured performance as the shy Stasi man. So subtle and measured, in fact, that it was sometimes hard to follow what he was doing and why (my only criticism of the film, and a small one at that as the story unfolds). Gedeck creates a strong and intelligent character who is more than a love interest, something I fear is rare in English-language cinema.
The Lives of Others deservedly won the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar this year. It is a ode to the man who quietly makes a difference, who makes sacrifices and doesn’t ask for recognition. By bringing light to East Germany’s murky history, it has brought up the uncomfortable truth that people were giving up their friends and loved ones to the Secret Police only twenty years ago. By telling this one tale, many people will now feel free to tell their own.
Monday, 11 June 2007
Review - Spider-Man 3
There are few things more upsetting than a Spider-Man film; all that longing and loss, eyes constantly on the verge of tears. Peter Parker’s life is troubled, something that has always been central to his appeal since Stan Lee used his great power to create him in 1962. The third part of Sam Raimi’s take on the Webslinger keeps up the same soap opera-ish element as the previous episodes, with perhaps less emphasis on action and villainy. If, like me, you love the heart of the first two films, then this will be welcome news. If you want to see a faithful rendition of the Venom saga, then you will be sorely disappointed. The screenplay has unfortunately bitten off more than it can chew in a (still quite long) two hours and twenty minutes.
The film opens with everything surprisingly rosy for Peter (the so-innocent-it-hurts Tobey McGuire). He’s going out with MJ (Kirsten Dunst), who’s just landed her first lead role on Broadway, he’s the star of his science classes, and J. Jonah Jameson at the Bugle still buys his pictures of Spidey. Of course, it can’t last. The man arrested for the murder of his Uncle Ben, Flint Marco (Thomas Hayden Church), escapes from prison and becomes The Sandman after wandering into a nuclear accelerator. This means he can turn into sand at will, which doesn’t just mean he gets inside your swimming costume, so you keep finding bits of him for weeks afterwards; he has super-strength and can’t get hurt, which is much more of a menace.
Also, Spider-Man’s iconic red and blue costume has turned to a rather cool black colour due to an alien symbiote. This enhances Peter’s superpowers, but also his smug self-satisfaction about being a universally-loved (well, apart from a certain tabloid editor) and selfless all-round good egg. The change in personality alienates all of his friends and loved ones, but is very funny to watch (McGuire cannot really pull off ‘cool’, which is lucky because neither can Peter Parker). I will gloss over the ins and outs of what the symbiote means and how Venom comes about, because the film-makers do. You’d think two villains and an internal battle would be enough, but there is the return of the Green Goblin to contend with as well. This time, Peter’s very angry best friend Harry Osborn (James Franco) is under the mask, complicating matters even further.
The myriad of different plots are not hard to keep track of or anything, but do produce a rather fractured film. There was more than enough material in here to make two very good stories; the whole symbiote thing deserves a film on its own, and tying up the lose ends of Peter’s problems with Harry (my favourite scenes in this episode) could have been extended. They have also wasted the character of Gwen Stacy by putting her in here; any comic fan will know that she was Peter’s first love interest, before Mary-Jane had ever called him Tiger.
Having pointed out its flaws, I still can’t help but love this film. McGuire is excellent and adorable as always, and the script is very funny. This part of the trilogy gives the best cameos so far of Bruce Campbell and Stan Lee, the real highlights for us geeks, even if it doesn’t do justice to any of the villains involved. The consistency of tone across the series is remarkable, and testimony to Sam Raimi’s vision and love for the subject. So, not a perfect film, but one that is very enjoyable and moving for a comic geek like me.
The film opens with everything surprisingly rosy for Peter (the so-innocent-it-hurts Tobey McGuire). He’s going out with MJ (Kirsten Dunst), who’s just landed her first lead role on Broadway, he’s the star of his science classes, and J. Jonah Jameson at the Bugle still buys his pictures of Spidey. Of course, it can’t last. The man arrested for the murder of his Uncle Ben, Flint Marco (Thomas Hayden Church), escapes from prison and becomes The Sandman after wandering into a nuclear accelerator. This means he can turn into sand at will, which doesn’t just mean he gets inside your swimming costume, so you keep finding bits of him for weeks afterwards; he has super-strength and can’t get hurt, which is much more of a menace.
Also, Spider-Man’s iconic red and blue costume has turned to a rather cool black colour due to an alien symbiote. This enhances Peter’s superpowers, but also his smug self-satisfaction about being a universally-loved (well, apart from a certain tabloid editor) and selfless all-round good egg. The change in personality alienates all of his friends and loved ones, but is very funny to watch (McGuire cannot really pull off ‘cool’, which is lucky because neither can Peter Parker). I will gloss over the ins and outs of what the symbiote means and how Venom comes about, because the film-makers do. You’d think two villains and an internal battle would be enough, but there is the return of the Green Goblin to contend with as well. This time, Peter’s very angry best friend Harry Osborn (James Franco) is under the mask, complicating matters even further.
The myriad of different plots are not hard to keep track of or anything, but do produce a rather fractured film. There was more than enough material in here to make two very good stories; the whole symbiote thing deserves a film on its own, and tying up the lose ends of Peter’s problems with Harry (my favourite scenes in this episode) could have been extended. They have also wasted the character of Gwen Stacy by putting her in here; any comic fan will know that she was Peter’s first love interest, before Mary-Jane had ever called him Tiger.
Having pointed out its flaws, I still can’t help but love this film. McGuire is excellent and adorable as always, and the script is very funny. This part of the trilogy gives the best cameos so far of Bruce Campbell and Stan Lee, the real highlights for us geeks, even if it doesn’t do justice to any of the villains involved. The consistency of tone across the series is remarkable, and testimony to Sam Raimi’s vision and love for the subject. So, not a perfect film, but one that is very enjoyable and moving for a comic geek like me.
Monday, 4 June 2007
Review - Blades of Glory
Figure skating is my favourite spectator sport. Every four years I am fixed in front of the Winter Olympics to see the triple-axel-double-salchow combinations and camel spins; during the Summer Olympics I have to watch gymnastics, a very distant second in my books for two reasons:
1. The big-chested, growth-stunted little girls are no match for the fluid grace of the skaters, and
2. The gymnasts’ costumes have few sequins.
The themed, sparkly creations that the skaters wear make for interesting viewing, but even I have to admit they are also ripe for some mickey-taking. Will Ferrell and Jon Heder duly oblige in Blades of Glory, souping up the camp glitz and bitchiness of the ‘sport’ to outstanding levels.
Heder plays Chazz Michael Michaels, the sex bomb of the figure skating world. Self-taught on the mean streets of the inner city, he is the arch-rival of Heder’s Jimmy MacElroy, the angelic and technically-perfect adopted son of a millionaire. After their intense rivalry causes both to be banned from Male Figure Skating for life, they fall on hard times. Realising that they can still compete in Pair Skating, they team up and enter the World Championships with, as they say, hilarious consequences.
This is a clever idea well-executed by directors Josh Gordon and Will Speck. The casting is great, with Ferrell making the most of his ‘magnetic sexuality’, and Heder the most of his Mormon innocence. The wonderful Will Arnett (Gob from Arrested Development) and his real life wife Amy Poehler (the perfect size for a throwing girl in pair skating) are hilarious as the Van Waldenbergs, the brother and sister nemeses of Michaels and MacElroy. The costumes are the real stars, though; tight in all the wrong places, exquisitely detailed and not far from the truth, they steal every scene.
Whilst the script has a lot of very funny ideas and many laugh out loud moments (as well as lots of great skating in-jokes), some flat scenes and thinness of plot mean that this will not become a comedy classic. Blades of Glory is a lot of fun whilst you’re watching it, but, like most of Will Ferrell’s comedies, not that much sticks in the memory. Still, 93 minutes of enjoyable silliness is not to be sneezed at, even if it is making fun of my beloved ice skating.
1. The big-chested, growth-stunted little girls are no match for the fluid grace of the skaters, and
2. The gymnasts’ costumes have few sequins.
The themed, sparkly creations that the skaters wear make for interesting viewing, but even I have to admit they are also ripe for some mickey-taking. Will Ferrell and Jon Heder duly oblige in Blades of Glory, souping up the camp glitz and bitchiness of the ‘sport’ to outstanding levels.
Heder plays Chazz Michael Michaels, the sex bomb of the figure skating world. Self-taught on the mean streets of the inner city, he is the arch-rival of Heder’s Jimmy MacElroy, the angelic and technically-perfect adopted son of a millionaire. After their intense rivalry causes both to be banned from Male Figure Skating for life, they fall on hard times. Realising that they can still compete in Pair Skating, they team up and enter the World Championships with, as they say, hilarious consequences.
This is a clever idea well-executed by directors Josh Gordon and Will Speck. The casting is great, with Ferrell making the most of his ‘magnetic sexuality’, and Heder the most of his Mormon innocence. The wonderful Will Arnett (Gob from Arrested Development) and his real life wife Amy Poehler (the perfect size for a throwing girl in pair skating) are hilarious as the Van Waldenbergs, the brother and sister nemeses of Michaels and MacElroy. The costumes are the real stars, though; tight in all the wrong places, exquisitely detailed and not far from the truth, they steal every scene.
Whilst the script has a lot of very funny ideas and many laugh out loud moments (as well as lots of great skating in-jokes), some flat scenes and thinness of plot mean that this will not become a comedy classic. Blades of Glory is a lot of fun whilst you’re watching it, but, like most of Will Ferrell’s comedies, not that much sticks in the memory. Still, 93 minutes of enjoyable silliness is not to be sneezed at, even if it is making fun of my beloved ice skating.
Tuesday, 22 May 2007
Review - 300
300 may be the coolest thing ever. I realised this when watching the Persian messengers galloping across golden fields of corn to Sparta near the beginning. Their Arab headdresses billowing in the wind, they arrive to deliver the news to King Leonidas that Xerxes, King of Persia, has designs on his land. The Spartan’s defence against this threat is an awesome true story that, when embellished by sick puppy Frank Miller, has become an epic blood ballet that really is a must-see.
This is the tale of the Battle of Thermopylae as told around the camp fires in the years after; it is history as myth, and not ashamed of the fact. 300 concentrates on visceral thrills, not characterization and complicated plots; it is made to entertain and astonish, not to give a realistic portrayal of life in Ancient Greece. In that it is very successful, painting the Persians as sensual freaks, and the handful of Spartans that face their massed army as rugged super soldiers, the kind of men that could all be played by Sean Bean.
Unfortunately, none of them are. But Gerard Butler is still excellent as Leonidas, with a six pack to match his warrior discipline and the boomiest voice this side of Brian Blessed. The other Spartans boom along nicely with him, and The Wire’s Dominic West is wonderfully slimy as Theron, the Machiavellian politician back in Sparta with designs on Queen Gorgo (Lena Heady). Heady is the weak link in an otherwise very robust cast, letting the character’s pinched sternness hide any acting that might be going on underneath.
The true star is really the art direction, which is outstanding; the whole look is beautiful, in a stylish muted palette. The CGI backgrounds, as with another Frank Miller adaptation, Sin City, are not designed to be realistic, but to produce a fully-realised fantasy world. Every frame looks like a painting. The fight choreography, so fluid and brutal, is also great, producing a many thrills.
We went to see 300 at the IMAX, and it is really is a film made to be seen in this format (let’s face it, they are unlikely to show a Mike Leigh retrospective there). As we waited for this to begin, people were shouting “This is Sparta!”. 300 has already built up a cult following, and unusually it has the mainstream appeal to become a huge hit.
This is the tale of the Battle of Thermopylae as told around the camp fires in the years after; it is history as myth, and not ashamed of the fact. 300 concentrates on visceral thrills, not characterization and complicated plots; it is made to entertain and astonish, not to give a realistic portrayal of life in Ancient Greece. In that it is very successful, painting the Persians as sensual freaks, and the handful of Spartans that face their massed army as rugged super soldiers, the kind of men that could all be played by Sean Bean.
Unfortunately, none of them are. But Gerard Butler is still excellent as Leonidas, with a six pack to match his warrior discipline and the boomiest voice this side of Brian Blessed. The other Spartans boom along nicely with him, and The Wire’s Dominic West is wonderfully slimy as Theron, the Machiavellian politician back in Sparta with designs on Queen Gorgo (Lena Heady). Heady is the weak link in an otherwise very robust cast, letting the character’s pinched sternness hide any acting that might be going on underneath.
The true star is really the art direction, which is outstanding; the whole look is beautiful, in a stylish muted palette. The CGI backgrounds, as with another Frank Miller adaptation, Sin City, are not designed to be realistic, but to produce a fully-realised fantasy world. Every frame looks like a painting. The fight choreography, so fluid and brutal, is also great, producing a many thrills.
We went to see 300 at the IMAX, and it is really is a film made to be seen in this format (let’s face it, they are unlikely to show a Mike Leigh retrospective there). As we waited for this to begin, people were shouting “This is Sparta!”. 300 has already built up a cult following, and unusually it has the mainstream appeal to become a huge hit.
Monday, 14 May 2007
Review - Sunshine
I was expecting great things from Sunshine, the latest film from Danny Boyle, one of the few good directors working in Britain today. With Shallow Grave and 28 Days Later he’s shown himself to be adept at taut genre thrillers, so the prospect of an intelligent adult sci-fi piece from him was exciting. Unfortunately the simple and effective premise of a ship on a mission to save Earth by kick-starting the dying sun is wasted here, married as it is to two-dimensional characters and a myriad of plot holes.
In the near future, the Icarus 2 and its crew are our planet’s only hope of survival. They must journey to the surface of the sun and deliver a ‘payload’ of a massive nuclear bomb (which looks like something out of The Matrix) in a hope to get the nuclear fusion going again, a mission which spells almost certain doom. Due to bad luck, a badly thought out plan, their own stupidity, and some very silly twists, their situation becomes rapidly even worse. There was a palpable sense of uncomfortable dread throughout this film, which was its most successful feature. The audience, like the crew, don’t want to meet their fate on the burning surface. Another successful element was the production design; the ship’s exterior is beautifully rendered, and the interiors are suitably dark and depressing, harking back to the Alien films’ or Red Dwarf’s industrial futuristic style.
What is less successful includes the crew itself. Although played well, each character ticks some cliché box: the sensitive girl who constantly cries (Rose Byrne), the fearless and stoic leader (Hiroyuki Sanada), the space jock (Chris Evans). We are supposed to be going on a journey to these people’s very souls, but they don’t really have any. It was, however, great to see Benedict Wong (Errol in the wonderful 15 Storeys High) on the big screen in an enjoyably whimpering performance. Cillian Murphy, he of the shocking blue eyes, broods a lot in the lead role of the physicist in charge of their precious cargo, and certainly shows star quality. A small point, perhaps, but what annoyed me most about the crew was that this was a British film made in Britain set in a very international future, and yet there was not one non-American accent. Why couldn’t Murphy keep his Irish one, or Wong his English, or Byrne her Australian?
When it comes to the plot, what starts out promisingly simple ends in a messy jumble. The denouement is extremely confusing and hard to follow, mostly because the mission and the layout of the ship is not adequately set up in the rest of the film to help the audience understand what is going on. The bogeyman element that dominates the end is unnecessary; it would have been more effective to have the psychological terror of the situation being the monster, rather than externalising it into something ridiculous. This is a film which throughout tries to be plausible and scientifically accurate (Dr. Brian Cox, a physicist and This Morning’s resident science explainer, acted as an advisor), so it is disappointing that it didn’t stick to its guns.
All in all this is a missed opportunity to produce some serious sci-fi. Although certainly unnerving in places, the unravelling at the end exasperates more than it excites, leaving little good will for the film from me.
In the near future, the Icarus 2 and its crew are our planet’s only hope of survival. They must journey to the surface of the sun and deliver a ‘payload’ of a massive nuclear bomb (which looks like something out of The Matrix) in a hope to get the nuclear fusion going again, a mission which spells almost certain doom. Due to bad luck, a badly thought out plan, their own stupidity, and some very silly twists, their situation becomes rapidly even worse. There was a palpable sense of uncomfortable dread throughout this film, which was its most successful feature. The audience, like the crew, don’t want to meet their fate on the burning surface. Another successful element was the production design; the ship’s exterior is beautifully rendered, and the interiors are suitably dark and depressing, harking back to the Alien films’ or Red Dwarf’s industrial futuristic style.
What is less successful includes the crew itself. Although played well, each character ticks some cliché box: the sensitive girl who constantly cries (Rose Byrne), the fearless and stoic leader (Hiroyuki Sanada), the space jock (Chris Evans). We are supposed to be going on a journey to these people’s very souls, but they don’t really have any. It was, however, great to see Benedict Wong (Errol in the wonderful 15 Storeys High) on the big screen in an enjoyably whimpering performance. Cillian Murphy, he of the shocking blue eyes, broods a lot in the lead role of the physicist in charge of their precious cargo, and certainly shows star quality. A small point, perhaps, but what annoyed me most about the crew was that this was a British film made in Britain set in a very international future, and yet there was not one non-American accent. Why couldn’t Murphy keep his Irish one, or Wong his English, or Byrne her Australian?
When it comes to the plot, what starts out promisingly simple ends in a messy jumble. The denouement is extremely confusing and hard to follow, mostly because the mission and the layout of the ship is not adequately set up in the rest of the film to help the audience understand what is going on. The bogeyman element that dominates the end is unnecessary; it would have been more effective to have the psychological terror of the situation being the monster, rather than externalising it into something ridiculous. This is a film which throughout tries to be plausible and scientifically accurate (Dr. Brian Cox, a physicist and This Morning’s resident science explainer, acted as an advisor), so it is disappointing that it didn’t stick to its guns.
All in all this is a missed opportunity to produce some serious sci-fi. Although certainly unnerving in places, the unravelling at the end exasperates more than it excites, leaving little good will for the film from me.
Friday, 30 March 2007
Review - TMNT
When I first saw a poster for TMNT, my jaw quite literally dropped; Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is an early 90s thing, something that was great, but surely not cool anymore. Apparently recent toy sales were surprisingly strong, leading the license-holders to believe that there was life in the old franchise yet, and I am so glad they gave it a go. This computer-animated movie is genuinely funny, has a lot of heart, and will keep both children and fanboys happy.
As the film begins, we see that the team of Turtles is in a bad way. Leonardo, the oldest brother and natural leader, had been on a training expedition to South America, but has decided to stay and help people living in the jungle. Raphael, the angriest turtle, has taken to being a lone vigilante, whilst the other two are doing decidedly un-ninja-ry jobs (producing some of the funniest moments). When Leonardo returns, Raphael’s bitterness at having to be led means that the brothers can no longer work as a group, which is very sad. It takes a shared enemy to bring them together, as they have to work as a team to take down an ancient evil. The storyline is quite light-weight, with a nice emotional arc setting up things for a sequel; though obviously it requires a suspension of disbelief (this is a universe with pizza-eating, human-sized turtles we are talking about), it makes sense in its own reality (a rarity nowadays in genre films).
On the animation front, they’ve gone the way of The Incredibles with the humans by making them very stylised. This is slightly off-putting, since the backgrounds are beautifully realistic, but everything else looks excellent. I especially loved Splinter; he was so gorgeous and furry, I could have eaten him with a spoon. Totally adorable. The camera movements and the panoramas of New York during the fights bring to mind the best of the Spider-Man films. Voice casting is very good, with a nice sense of character. Obviously aware of their geek audience, the film-makers have got Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stuart), Buffy (Sarah Michelle Geller) and The Human Torch (Chris Evans) in the cast.
This all adds up to a lovely little film that is much more fun than one feels it ought to be somehow. I don’t know why this is, though, because the Turtles were so popular back then for a reason, but it is so easy to forget. I’m not sure if TMNT has made them cool again exactly, but that day may be fast approaching. They are well on their way to getting those awful live-action films out of the collective consciousness, at least.
As the film begins, we see that the team of Turtles is in a bad way. Leonardo, the oldest brother and natural leader, had been on a training expedition to South America, but has decided to stay and help people living in the jungle. Raphael, the angriest turtle, has taken to being a lone vigilante, whilst the other two are doing decidedly un-ninja-ry jobs (producing some of the funniest moments). When Leonardo returns, Raphael’s bitterness at having to be led means that the brothers can no longer work as a group, which is very sad. It takes a shared enemy to bring them together, as they have to work as a team to take down an ancient evil. The storyline is quite light-weight, with a nice emotional arc setting up things for a sequel; though obviously it requires a suspension of disbelief (this is a universe with pizza-eating, human-sized turtles we are talking about), it makes sense in its own reality (a rarity nowadays in genre films).
On the animation front, they’ve gone the way of The Incredibles with the humans by making them very stylised. This is slightly off-putting, since the backgrounds are beautifully realistic, but everything else looks excellent. I especially loved Splinter; he was so gorgeous and furry, I could have eaten him with a spoon. Totally adorable. The camera movements and the panoramas of New York during the fights bring to mind the best of the Spider-Man films. Voice casting is very good, with a nice sense of character. Obviously aware of their geek audience, the film-makers have got Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stuart), Buffy (Sarah Michelle Geller) and The Human Torch (Chris Evans) in the cast.
This all adds up to a lovely little film that is much more fun than one feels it ought to be somehow. I don’t know why this is, though, because the Turtles were so popular back then for a reason, but it is so easy to forget. I’m not sure if TMNT has made them cool again exactly, but that day may be fast approaching. They are well on their way to getting those awful live-action films out of the collective consciousness, at least.
Review - INLAND EMPIRE
There are certain narrative conventions that have developed to allow the cinema audience to be carried along by a story in sure and certain hope that they know what is going on. Directors have long loved to use these to trick the viewer, carrying them down dead ends with Smart Alec glee. But it is David Lynch who tries to actively go against them to confuse and perplex. It may not make any sense, but INLAND EMPIRE is an amazing dream-like experience for those who are willing to follow Lynch down the rabbit hole.
The story, if there is one, seems to concern an actress (Laura Dern) as she wins a plum role in a movie. It turns out, however, that this movie has a dark and sinister past, and extremely strange things start happening. I think. I’m not sure if that’s what it is about, but I’m definitely confident about the ‘extremely strange things happening’ bit. Nevertheless, individual scenes are mesmerising, even if one doesn’t understand the context, alternately deeply disturbing, moving, and very funny. David Lynch is the master of mood, and in this film he shows off his skill with great aplomb.
There are so many things going on, so many characters and competing realities, that it would be easy to lose sight of the lead. It is all the more remarkable, then, that Laura Dern has given her best ever performance here. She plays terrified, ballsy, innocent, everything, with an amazing naturalism and lack of self-conciousness. Her whole role could be compared to Naomi Watt’s dazzling and startling audition scenes in INLAND EMPIRE’s partner film, Mulholland Drive, but sustained over 3 hours. Justin Theroux is also excellent as her co-star, and there are a myriad of great cameos from the likes of Jeremy Irons, Harry Dean Stanton, and Grace Zabriskie.
It is quite heavy going, and this wouldn’t be a good entry-point to those unfamiliar with Lynch’s work, but for those with an open mind and consciousness, it is a revelation. Filmed with digital hand held cameras over many years, it shows what can be done with imagination and full directorial control, regardless of budget. The coda over the end credits is an ecstatic romp, which makes me wonder whether it is as serious a film as it might seem; Lynch is having fun with us, and if you are up for it, I’d urge you to join in and lose yourself in this strange maze.
The story, if there is one, seems to concern an actress (Laura Dern) as she wins a plum role in a movie. It turns out, however, that this movie has a dark and sinister past, and extremely strange things start happening. I think. I’m not sure if that’s what it is about, but I’m definitely confident about the ‘extremely strange things happening’ bit. Nevertheless, individual scenes are mesmerising, even if one doesn’t understand the context, alternately deeply disturbing, moving, and very funny. David Lynch is the master of mood, and in this film he shows off his skill with great aplomb.
There are so many things going on, so many characters and competing realities, that it would be easy to lose sight of the lead. It is all the more remarkable, then, that Laura Dern has given her best ever performance here. She plays terrified, ballsy, innocent, everything, with an amazing naturalism and lack of self-conciousness. Her whole role could be compared to Naomi Watt’s dazzling and startling audition scenes in INLAND EMPIRE’s partner film, Mulholland Drive, but sustained over 3 hours. Justin Theroux is also excellent as her co-star, and there are a myriad of great cameos from the likes of Jeremy Irons, Harry Dean Stanton, and Grace Zabriskie.
It is quite heavy going, and this wouldn’t be a good entry-point to those unfamiliar with Lynch’s work, but for those with an open mind and consciousness, it is a revelation. Filmed with digital hand held cameras over many years, it shows what can be done with imagination and full directorial control, regardless of budget. The coda over the end credits is an ecstatic romp, which makes me wonder whether it is as serious a film as it might seem; Lynch is having fun with us, and if you are up for it, I’d urge you to join in and lose yourself in this strange maze.
Tuesday, 6 March 2007
Review - Ghost Rider
Ghost Rider is really a second-tier superhero, but he is certainly one of the coolest-looking. As is the trend with Marvel’s characters, his power is also his curse; a deal made with the Devil when a teen-ager has meant that Johnny Blaze (Nicholas Cage) turns into a biker with a flaming skull at night, and is forced to do the Evil One’s bidding. This might be highly rad, but it plays havoc with your social life. This slice of hokum tells this origin story and has Ghost Rider bagging his first villain in a light and fun way.
Nicholas Cage is obviously having a blast finally playing a superhero (he is a huge comic geek), and he adds some great kooky touches to the character; he does his usual bad-ass Elvis shtick with great aplomb, making it obvious that this isn’t a film to be taken seriously. Peter Fonda is suitably menacing as Mephistopheles (the Devil in Marvel-speak), Donal Logue is charming as Johnny’s best friend Mack, and Eva Mendes has a nice spunky edge to her as the love interest. The whole tone is quite comedic, overlaid with some Goth and Wild West motifs. The focus is mainly on the fire- and motorbike-heavy action, which uses some very good CGI for the hero and his ghostly villains.
Ghost Rider has one major flaw, though. It doesn’t really make any sense. The MacGuffin at the centre of the plot (some sort of contract) is very sketchily drawn, and at the end when you expect answers, you don’t get them. Weirdly, I didn’t mind that that much, as it was a fun, if superficial, ride. This was the director Mark Steven Johnson’s follow-up to Daredevil, a film I liked, though no-one else seemed to. Other people did like the Director’s Cut, though, because the story actually made sense in it. Let’s hope there’s a director’s cut of this lying around somewhere to absolve him all over again.
But even if that never surfaces, this is still a good popcorn flick with a wonderfully enthusiastic central performance, which should enthuse the audience for its 114 minute running time.
Nicholas Cage is obviously having a blast finally playing a superhero (he is a huge comic geek), and he adds some great kooky touches to the character; he does his usual bad-ass Elvis shtick with great aplomb, making it obvious that this isn’t a film to be taken seriously. Peter Fonda is suitably menacing as Mephistopheles (the Devil in Marvel-speak), Donal Logue is charming as Johnny’s best friend Mack, and Eva Mendes has a nice spunky edge to her as the love interest. The whole tone is quite comedic, overlaid with some Goth and Wild West motifs. The focus is mainly on the fire- and motorbike-heavy action, which uses some very good CGI for the hero and his ghostly villains.
Ghost Rider has one major flaw, though. It doesn’t really make any sense. The MacGuffin at the centre of the plot (some sort of contract) is very sketchily drawn, and at the end when you expect answers, you don’t get them. Weirdly, I didn’t mind that that much, as it was a fun, if superficial, ride. This was the director Mark Steven Johnson’s follow-up to Daredevil, a film I liked, though no-one else seemed to. Other people did like the Director’s Cut, though, because the story actually made sense in it. Let’s hope there’s a director’s cut of this lying around somewhere to absolve him all over again.
But even if that never surfaces, this is still a good popcorn flick with a wonderfully enthusiastic central performance, which should enthuse the audience for its 114 minute running time.
Saturday, 3 March 2007
Review - Hot Fuzz
These days, hit British comedy films tend to be written by Richard Curtis and make you want to scratch your own eyes out in an attempt to get Keira Knightley’s smug face out of your brain. It is refreshing, therefore, to witness the movie success of Simon Pegg and director Edgar Wright. I was a huge fan of their sit-com Spaced (which was co-written by Jessica Stevenson), and with the track record of TV comedians in film so bad, it’s great that their first film Shaun of the Dead was an international hit. The follow-up Hot Fuzz more than lives up to expectations. Like Shaun, it slams genre movie conventions in the middle of Middle England, producing ample room for spoofery. This time they’ve put gun-toting, car-chasing cops in a Gloucestershire village.
Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg) is the Met’s top cop. He’s a perfect shot, very enthusiastic about following the rules, and has an arrest record that puts all the other officers to shame. His superiors get rid of their embarrassment by posting him to the middle of nowhere, the quiet village of Sandford in the West Country. After a series of mysterious (and extremely gory) accidental deaths, Angel’s fish-out-of-water soon finds out that it is not as quiet as it first seems.
Hot Fuzz is a whole lot of fun; they’ve tied all the gags around a reasonable storyline that keeps things moving along. Simon Pegg is suitably serious as the straight man, and Nick Frost (obviously playing the sweet and stupid best friend. Obviously.) is lovely as PC Danny Butterman. Almost everyone from the British comedy scene seems to make cameos in this, with my particular favourite being Olivia Coleman (Sophie off of Peep Show, and Bev of the Trev and Bev AA adverts) as a saucy female police officer. Timothy Dalton does a great moustache-twirling turn as a deliciously malevolent and highly suspicious Somerfield manager. But although I wanted to love it, I only liked it. I think this is just because I love Spaced so much that nothing seems to live up to it; maybe I liked Jessica Stevenson’s contribution more than Pegg’s without knowing it. But this is my own personal hang-up, and it was genuinely laugh-out-loud funny, which I suppose is all you can ask for a comedy. This is British film comedy made for and by geeks, something which can only be applauded.
Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg) is the Met’s top cop. He’s a perfect shot, very enthusiastic about following the rules, and has an arrest record that puts all the other officers to shame. His superiors get rid of their embarrassment by posting him to the middle of nowhere, the quiet village of Sandford in the West Country. After a series of mysterious (and extremely gory) accidental deaths, Angel’s fish-out-of-water soon finds out that it is not as quiet as it first seems.
Hot Fuzz is a whole lot of fun; they’ve tied all the gags around a reasonable storyline that keeps things moving along. Simon Pegg is suitably serious as the straight man, and Nick Frost (obviously playing the sweet and stupid best friend. Obviously.) is lovely as PC Danny Butterman. Almost everyone from the British comedy scene seems to make cameos in this, with my particular favourite being Olivia Coleman (Sophie off of Peep Show, and Bev of the Trev and Bev AA adverts) as a saucy female police officer. Timothy Dalton does a great moustache-twirling turn as a deliciously malevolent and highly suspicious Somerfield manager. But although I wanted to love it, I only liked it. I think this is just because I love Spaced so much that nothing seems to live up to it; maybe I liked Jessica Stevenson’s contribution more than Pegg’s without knowing it. But this is my own personal hang-up, and it was genuinely laugh-out-loud funny, which I suppose is all you can ask for a comedy. This is British film comedy made for and by geeks, something which can only be applauded.
Tuesday, 27 February 2007
Review - Zwartboek (Black Book)
Paul Verhoeven is best known for blockbusters like Total Recall, Starship Troopers and Basic Instinct, but not perhaps for moving drama. In Zwartboek he takes his mastery of glossy suspense and action and combines this with a genuinely affecting story to produce a grown-up film that crosses genres. This is a dazzling rollercoaster of a thriller, producing a complex vision of a complex time in European history.
Set in Holland in the final months of the Second World War, the story focuses on Jewish singer Rachel Stein (Carice van Houten) when she is forced to flee her hiding place. After her family is brutally murdered in front of her, she joins the Dutch Resistance and goes deep undercover in the occupiers’ headquarters. What follows is a labyrinth plot with many twists and turns. It is an unusual film because it sometimes has the feel of a Hollywood thriller, yet is in Dutch and German. It has moments of shocking violence, but also many deeply emotional and poignant scenes. It is also unusual for producing a very morally complex story. No-one is shown as wholly good or evil as an empire crumbles, and peace holds as many problems as the war. Verhoeven even produces that rarest of things, a sympathetic Nazi; Müntze (Sebastian Koch) is a lonely man who has also suffered, and his relationship with Rachel really is the film’s suprising heart.
The world Verhoeven has created is fully realised. The sets and costumes range from grimy and squalid to lush and luxurious, always looking exactly right. It is not surprising to learn that this is the most expensive Dutch film ever made. But the best thing about this film is undoubtably van Houten, who creates a wonderful heroine. Carice van Houten looks like a grown-up Kirsten Dunst, if Kirsten Dunst could act. She is radient in the party scenes, wearing stunning red satin as she partakes in caberet and espionage. Films often purport to have strong female characters, but they end up like something from a computer game, all high-kicking karate and tight jumpsuits. Rachel, unhampered by American cinema’s backwards view of feminism, is a truly brave and intelligent woman who thinks on her feet and is fighting for what is right. She uses her sexuality to her advantage and is always in complete control, even in the most tragic circumstances.
My only criticism would be that the story is told as a flashback, meaning that we already partly know the outcome of events. Leaving the ending a mystery would have kept the audience even more on the edge their seat. No matter, for this is still an extremely exhilerating ride through Europe at its darkest moment, full of double-crossing, intrigue, and love.
Set in Holland in the final months of the Second World War, the story focuses on Jewish singer Rachel Stein (Carice van Houten) when she is forced to flee her hiding place. After her family is brutally murdered in front of her, she joins the Dutch Resistance and goes deep undercover in the occupiers’ headquarters. What follows is a labyrinth plot with many twists and turns. It is an unusual film because it sometimes has the feel of a Hollywood thriller, yet is in Dutch and German. It has moments of shocking violence, but also many deeply emotional and poignant scenes. It is also unusual for producing a very morally complex story. No-one is shown as wholly good or evil as an empire crumbles, and peace holds as many problems as the war. Verhoeven even produces that rarest of things, a sympathetic Nazi; Müntze (Sebastian Koch) is a lonely man who has also suffered, and his relationship with Rachel really is the film’s suprising heart.
The world Verhoeven has created is fully realised. The sets and costumes range from grimy and squalid to lush and luxurious, always looking exactly right. It is not surprising to learn that this is the most expensive Dutch film ever made. But the best thing about this film is undoubtably van Houten, who creates a wonderful heroine. Carice van Houten looks like a grown-up Kirsten Dunst, if Kirsten Dunst could act. She is radient in the party scenes, wearing stunning red satin as she partakes in caberet and espionage. Films often purport to have strong female characters, but they end up like something from a computer game, all high-kicking karate and tight jumpsuits. Rachel, unhampered by American cinema’s backwards view of feminism, is a truly brave and intelligent woman who thinks on her feet and is fighting for what is right. She uses her sexuality to her advantage and is always in complete control, even in the most tragic circumstances.
My only criticism would be that the story is told as a flashback, meaning that we already partly know the outcome of events. Leaving the ending a mystery would have kept the audience even more on the edge their seat. No matter, for this is still an extremely exhilerating ride through Europe at its darkest moment, full of double-crossing, intrigue, and love.
Review - Bobby
Emilio Estevez’s film is obviously a labour of love on the part of the director, a peaen to the time when everything seemed possible for America, and a haunting account of the moment when all hope disappeared. The historical background to events, and their significance to today, is hammered home effectively; you only wish that he’d been able to wrap it around a better film.
The action takes place on that fateful day of June 4th 1968, and in the fateful place of the Ambassador Hotel, Los Angeles. We follow a large selection of characters pulled from the staff and guests of the hotel in the run up to the senseless killing of Robert Kennedy. They are carefully selected to tick all the issue-boxes of the period, so we get ethnic tensions in the kitchen, emerging feminism in the bedroom, and anti-war sentiment in the wedding chapel. And of course the obligatory hippy. This is a portrait of a group of people in pain, a network of hurting individuals that we are supposed to get involved with; the musical interlude (to the excellent ‘Never Gonna Break My Faith’ by Aretha Franklin and Mary J. Blige, the only new song in a great contemporaneous soundtrack) evokes P.T. Anderson’s Magnolia, an altogether more effective member of this genre.
The starry cast produces great performances, but they are let down by a lack of focus and memorable dialogue. There doesn’t seem to any point to it all. It is never made clear who Martin Sheen and Helen Hunt’s couple are or why they are there (it’s certainly not to entertain or move you). Demi Moore’s alcoholic singer is very miserable, and that’s her whole story. Estevez gives himself a part as her husband, the role consisting only of walking a small dog in a daze.
Of the myriad storylines, there are some that work: the love triangle surrounding William H. Macy, with Sharon Stone’s world-weary wife and a deliciously doe-eyed Heather Graham as the Other Woman, is sensitively portrayed. Anthony Hopkins gives a lovingly gentle and naturalistic performance as a retired doorman who can’t bear to leave the hotel, and Freddy Rodriquez is adorable as a decent and hardworking bus boy. The scenes with Lyndsay Lohan as the selfless bride saving her friend from the jungles of Vietnam are very affecting, until one realises she’s marrying Elijah Wood, permanently stuck in that 14 year-old awkward stage; this is bad casting that doesn’t ring true.
Bookending the film are montages showing the immense social upheavels of the period, the heart-breakingly moving words of Robert Kennedy, and the devotion he inspired in the American people. These are so effective that one wonders whether Estevez’s time would have been better spent making a stirring documentary, rather than trying to get his point across by throwing lots of characters at the screen and hoping they’d stick emotionally with the audience. They all pale in significance to what should have been the focus of the film, Bobby. This is a campaigning piece of work, and one that will do nothing to counteract the Sheen Clan’s bleeding-heart Pinko image, but Kennedy’s words are so painfully pertinent to today that it would be a hard heart that could fail to be moved. All this seems quite divorced from the main meat of the film, making it a strange concoction that has its charms and its moments, but ultimately doesn’t produce a satisfying whole.
The action takes place on that fateful day of June 4th 1968, and in the fateful place of the Ambassador Hotel, Los Angeles. We follow a large selection of characters pulled from the staff and guests of the hotel in the run up to the senseless killing of Robert Kennedy. They are carefully selected to tick all the issue-boxes of the period, so we get ethnic tensions in the kitchen, emerging feminism in the bedroom, and anti-war sentiment in the wedding chapel. And of course the obligatory hippy. This is a portrait of a group of people in pain, a network of hurting individuals that we are supposed to get involved with; the musical interlude (to the excellent ‘Never Gonna Break My Faith’ by Aretha Franklin and Mary J. Blige, the only new song in a great contemporaneous soundtrack) evokes P.T. Anderson’s Magnolia, an altogether more effective member of this genre.
The starry cast produces great performances, but they are let down by a lack of focus and memorable dialogue. There doesn’t seem to any point to it all. It is never made clear who Martin Sheen and Helen Hunt’s couple are or why they are there (it’s certainly not to entertain or move you). Demi Moore’s alcoholic singer is very miserable, and that’s her whole story. Estevez gives himself a part as her husband, the role consisting only of walking a small dog in a daze.
Of the myriad storylines, there are some that work: the love triangle surrounding William H. Macy, with Sharon Stone’s world-weary wife and a deliciously doe-eyed Heather Graham as the Other Woman, is sensitively portrayed. Anthony Hopkins gives a lovingly gentle and naturalistic performance as a retired doorman who can’t bear to leave the hotel, and Freddy Rodriquez is adorable as a decent and hardworking bus boy. The scenes with Lyndsay Lohan as the selfless bride saving her friend from the jungles of Vietnam are very affecting, until one realises she’s marrying Elijah Wood, permanently stuck in that 14 year-old awkward stage; this is bad casting that doesn’t ring true.
Bookending the film are montages showing the immense social upheavels of the period, the heart-breakingly moving words of Robert Kennedy, and the devotion he inspired in the American people. These are so effective that one wonders whether Estevez’s time would have been better spent making a stirring documentary, rather than trying to get his point across by throwing lots of characters at the screen and hoping they’d stick emotionally with the audience. They all pale in significance to what should have been the focus of the film, Bobby. This is a campaigning piece of work, and one that will do nothing to counteract the Sheen Clan’s bleeding-heart Pinko image, but Kennedy’s words are so painfully pertinent to today that it would be a hard heart that could fail to be moved. All this seems quite divorced from the main meat of the film, making it a strange concoction that has its charms and its moments, but ultimately doesn’t produce a satisfying whole.
Review - Happy Feet
Happy Feet is a very strange film indeed, a feverish mix of Discovery Channel realism and Moulin Rouge-style inexplicable song and dance routines. Many contradictory ideas are flung in the ring and none really work, producing an exasperating 109 minutes in the cinema.
The premise is bizarre to begin with: Emperor Penguins each have a pop song that they start singing spontaneously in infancy (called, sickeningly, their ‘heart song’), which they later use to woo mates in choreographed sing-offs. Memphis (Hugh Jackman) and Norma Jean (Nichole Kidman), unnecessary and hideous Elvis and Marilyn Monroe-style penguins, meet in this good old-fashioned manner and soon have an egg. Memphis’s neglect during incubation means that their baby comes out all wrong; Mumble (Elijah Wood) cannot sing like all the other penguins, and has some hormonal problem that means he never fully goes through puberty, keeping some of his grey down. He sure can tap dance, though. Unfortunately tap dancing is ‘just not penguin’ (probably because with their strange ungainly bodies, even the moves of Fred Astaire look underwhelming when done by Emperor Penguin flippers ending up as a series of flappy noises, something the film-makers seem not to have realised), and the cute baby penguin is an outcast. His behaviour is deemed so subversive that when food becomes scarce, the elders of the community blame his heresy and cast him out.
What follows is the familiar Lion King story of Mumbles making some ‘amusing’ new friends (mostly voiced by Robin Williams) before his triumphant return to his home. This journey is a lot more disturbing than what we have seen before in the cute animal animation genre, however. He is chased by scary seals, whales, and captured by humans. The insane asylum atmosphere of the zoo is so effective that it may put children off them for life. The film goes from being a familiar story of an outsider gaining acceptance to a crusading parable for environmentalism, as Mumble realises that it is humans, not he, that are disrupting the food chain in the Antarctic. After forcing us to face grim reality, the ending is a huge cop-out, with a completely ridiculous turn of events (if humans ever saw penguins tap dancing, I don’t think we’d see it as an obvious plea to stop over fishing the seas).
The action is punctuated by song and dance numbers of familiar standards by the penguins, with Brittany Murphy as the sexy siren singing her heart out. These were quite infectious, but the makers of the film should have decided whether they were going for a frothy musical, or a worthy tale of our neglect of the environment. This uncertainty is also reflected in the visuals, as the characters and landscapes are beautifully designed to look as real as possible, but the characters are doing things that obviously penguins don’t do. If they’d have made them more ‘cute’ and anthropomorphic as in most animations, then this would not have been a problem. Obviously they wanted to cash in on the success of March of the Penguins by making it look as similar as possible to that documentary.
Maybe I am over analysing this. After all, it’s just a cartoon for children, and you’re supposed to suspend your disbelief. But the real crime is that Happy Feet just isn’t funny. Most of the high-profile CGI animations have succeeded by being amusing to both children and adults. I only laughed once. Most of the comedy is left to Robin Williams in two roles, giving him the chance to portray not one, but two racial stereotypes! It makes you glad that Hollywood isn’t producing any more motor-mouthed comedians to be hilarious cartoon sidekicks in the vein of Williams and Eddie Murphy.
This is a surreal and annoying mix of many ideas that just don’t gel. The film-makers got one thing right, though. They created the Emperor Penguin version of Elijah Wood perfectly: perma-pubescent and with piercing blue eyes always on the verge of tears.
The premise is bizarre to begin with: Emperor Penguins each have a pop song that they start singing spontaneously in infancy (called, sickeningly, their ‘heart song’), which they later use to woo mates in choreographed sing-offs. Memphis (Hugh Jackman) and Norma Jean (Nichole Kidman), unnecessary and hideous Elvis and Marilyn Monroe-style penguins, meet in this good old-fashioned manner and soon have an egg. Memphis’s neglect during incubation means that their baby comes out all wrong; Mumble (Elijah Wood) cannot sing like all the other penguins, and has some hormonal problem that means he never fully goes through puberty, keeping some of his grey down. He sure can tap dance, though. Unfortunately tap dancing is ‘just not penguin’ (probably because with their strange ungainly bodies, even the moves of Fred Astaire look underwhelming when done by Emperor Penguin flippers ending up as a series of flappy noises, something the film-makers seem not to have realised), and the cute baby penguin is an outcast. His behaviour is deemed so subversive that when food becomes scarce, the elders of the community blame his heresy and cast him out.
What follows is the familiar Lion King story of Mumbles making some ‘amusing’ new friends (mostly voiced by Robin Williams) before his triumphant return to his home. This journey is a lot more disturbing than what we have seen before in the cute animal animation genre, however. He is chased by scary seals, whales, and captured by humans. The insane asylum atmosphere of the zoo is so effective that it may put children off them for life. The film goes from being a familiar story of an outsider gaining acceptance to a crusading parable for environmentalism, as Mumble realises that it is humans, not he, that are disrupting the food chain in the Antarctic. After forcing us to face grim reality, the ending is a huge cop-out, with a completely ridiculous turn of events (if humans ever saw penguins tap dancing, I don’t think we’d see it as an obvious plea to stop over fishing the seas).
The action is punctuated by song and dance numbers of familiar standards by the penguins, with Brittany Murphy as the sexy siren singing her heart out. These were quite infectious, but the makers of the film should have decided whether they were going for a frothy musical, or a worthy tale of our neglect of the environment. This uncertainty is also reflected in the visuals, as the characters and landscapes are beautifully designed to look as real as possible, but the characters are doing things that obviously penguins don’t do. If they’d have made them more ‘cute’ and anthropomorphic as in most animations, then this would not have been a problem. Obviously they wanted to cash in on the success of March of the Penguins by making it look as similar as possible to that documentary.
Maybe I am over analysing this. After all, it’s just a cartoon for children, and you’re supposed to suspend your disbelief. But the real crime is that Happy Feet just isn’t funny. Most of the high-profile CGI animations have succeeded by being amusing to both children and adults. I only laughed once. Most of the comedy is left to Robin Williams in two roles, giving him the chance to portray not one, but two racial stereotypes! It makes you glad that Hollywood isn’t producing any more motor-mouthed comedians to be hilarious cartoon sidekicks in the vein of Williams and Eddie Murphy.
This is a surreal and annoying mix of many ideas that just don’t gel. The film-makers got one thing right, though. They created the Emperor Penguin version of Elijah Wood perfectly: perma-pubescent and with piercing blue eyes always on the verge of tears.
Review - Perfume: The Story of a Murderer
Peter Süskind’s bestselling novel was long thought un-filmable, both by the many famous directors that passed on it and the writer himself. Its reliance on the description of scent, that most transient of the senses, made it a very challenging prospect, but thankfully one that Paul Tykwer (best known for directing 1998s techno-actioner Run, Lola, Run) took up. The graphic use of imagery evokes all sorts of smells, both sweet and putrid, very effectively, and this beauty contrasts wonderfully with the disturbing and riveting storyline.
The film centres on the very strange tale of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, an orphan in 18th Century Paris with a supernatural sense of smell and absence of social skills. Played with a creepy innocence by newcomer Ben Whishaw (who I last saw on TV playing the put-upon Pingu in the great Nathan Barley), he is a man obsessed with capturing and preserving the scent of everyday things, and especially those of beautiful women with praeternaturally red hair. His quest takes him from the hell of slave labour in a tanning factory, to an up-market perfumer, to the beautiful country town of Grasse, leaving behind him a wake of death and destruction.
Whishaw is quite bland in the role, but I believe this works for the film, rather than against it. Jean-Baptiste has no discernable emotions and is more animal than human; he is able to skulk in the shadows unnoticed by everyone. The showboating is left to old pros Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman, who relish their supporting roles; the powdered wigs of the period make hamming it up the only option. Hoffman is great fun as the has-been perfumer whose business is given new life due to Jean-Baptiste’s skills, although his mid-lantic accent taking the place of Italian grates slightly. Rickman’s portrayal of a widowed father desperately trying to protect his daughter is surprisingly sensitive, though still grandiose.
The cinematography and score (composed by the director) are suitably lush, and the dirty beauty of Paris is beautifully realised. My only gripe is that in deciding to film the story in English, this German/French/Spanish co-production has had to make all the lower-class supporting characters have distracting mockney accents. It would have made a better film, though I’m sure a less economically successful one, to film it in French (or even German, since the writer of the novel and the director are both German). This is a small point, though, when Perfume still all adds up to a very enjoyable and deliciously mean-spirited dark fairytale.
The film centres on the very strange tale of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, an orphan in 18th Century Paris with a supernatural sense of smell and absence of social skills. Played with a creepy innocence by newcomer Ben Whishaw (who I last saw on TV playing the put-upon Pingu in the great Nathan Barley), he is a man obsessed with capturing and preserving the scent of everyday things, and especially those of beautiful women with praeternaturally red hair. His quest takes him from the hell of slave labour in a tanning factory, to an up-market perfumer, to the beautiful country town of Grasse, leaving behind him a wake of death and destruction.
Whishaw is quite bland in the role, but I believe this works for the film, rather than against it. Jean-Baptiste has no discernable emotions and is more animal than human; he is able to skulk in the shadows unnoticed by everyone. The showboating is left to old pros Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman, who relish their supporting roles; the powdered wigs of the period make hamming it up the only option. Hoffman is great fun as the has-been perfumer whose business is given new life due to Jean-Baptiste’s skills, although his mid-lantic accent taking the place of Italian grates slightly. Rickman’s portrayal of a widowed father desperately trying to protect his daughter is surprisingly sensitive, though still grandiose.
The cinematography and score (composed by the director) are suitably lush, and the dirty beauty of Paris is beautifully realised. My only gripe is that in deciding to film the story in English, this German/French/Spanish co-production has had to make all the lower-class supporting characters have distracting mockney accents. It would have made a better film, though I’m sure a less economically successful one, to film it in French (or even German, since the writer of the novel and the director are both German). This is a small point, though, when Perfume still all adds up to a very enjoyable and deliciously mean-spirited dark fairytale.
Let me introduce myself...
Hello there! I'm Laura, and I'm going to be posting film reviews here, and maybe thoughts on other pop-cultural things. We'll see how it develops as I go along. I'd be very interested in any feedback, so feel free to comment!
I can be very opinionated, and tend to either love things or hate things, so don't expect many moderate, sober proclomations. I will endeavour to not put any spoilers on here, and if I do, I'll give ample warning (I hate that when it happens elsewhere).
To get an idea of my tastes, my favourite films include Reservoir Dogs, Coming Home, Goodfellas, Clerks, Apocalypse Now, The Deer Hunter, The Godfather Parts I and II, Rain Man, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Scrooged, Gattaca, Full Metal Jacket and Mean Streets. I'd say that makes me eclectic in my tastes, apart from an obvious leaning towards Vietnam war films.
So, without further ado, let's get critical.
Save the Texas Prairie Chicken!
- Laura
I can be very opinionated, and tend to either love things or hate things, so don't expect many moderate, sober proclomations. I will endeavour to not put any spoilers on here, and if I do, I'll give ample warning (I hate that when it happens elsewhere).
To get an idea of my tastes, my favourite films include Reservoir Dogs, Coming Home, Goodfellas, Clerks, Apocalypse Now, The Deer Hunter, The Godfather Parts I and II, Rain Man, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Scrooged, Gattaca, Full Metal Jacket and Mean Streets. I'd say that makes me eclectic in my tastes, apart from an obvious leaning towards Vietnam war films.
So, without further ado, let's get critical.
Save the Texas Prairie Chicken!
- Laura
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