Most horror films are marketed as “the most terrifying movie ever made”, and Paranormal Activity is no exception. As is usually the case, this is a gross overestimation of the scariness level involved.
The film is another example of the The Blair Witch Project school of fake documentary, a technique most successfully used by Cloverfield. A young (and very annoying) couple are hearing bumps in the night, the same bumps that have been plaguing the girl (Katie Featherstone, a slightly dumpier and brunette version of Amy Adams) since childhood. The guy (Micah Sloat) decides to buy a video camera and start recording the goings on, even though a paranormal expert warns them not to antagonise the demon. The film is ostensibly the footage they shot.
Made extremely cheaply and with no effects you would class as “special”, the film is surprisingly effective for most of its running time. With the camera recording the couple as they sleep throughout the night, the audience must be very quiet to hear the paranormal activity, naturally producing tension and jumpiness. There are no big scares, though, and by the end your patience may have run out with both the demon and the couple.
The film is enjoyable if you are in the right mood. Otherwise you’ll realise you’re spending minutes of your finite life watching a bedsheet twitch.
Thursday, 17 December 2009
Review - Das weisse Band – Eine deutsche Kindergeschichte (The White Ribbon)
Evil comes in many forms, and mindless cruelty seems to be Michael Haneke’s favourite. This engrossing and Palme d’Or-winning film examines the tensions that can simmer just below the surface of a seemingly ordered society. While certainly not a horror film or even a thriller, it will leave you feeling unsettled for days.
The setting is a German village in 1913 plagued by random acts of nastiness. Who is the culprit? Why are they doing it? We follow many different people as they try to go about their normal lives, from the local Baron to the lowly farmer. People are born, fall in love and die, and yet the mysterious happenings continue.
Filmed in digital black and white, everything about this film is exquisitely just-so. The pace is measured and the framing of each shot is somehow still and quiet, but never boring. The White Ribbon feels like the sort of film they haven’t made since the 70s: of a decidedly modern sensibility but with a respect for the audience that has been otherwise lost in the years since.
The full German title should give you a clue that there are some children involved in the story. Child acting is often pretty iffy, so that fact could raise alarm bells. Never fear, though, because Haneke has chosen wisely and all give wonderful performances. Two adorable little boys and a mildly terrifying older girl called Klara (Maria-Victoria Dragus) are particularly noteworthy. Amongst the adults, the sweetest scenes feature a geeky school teacher (Christian Friedel) and his burgeoning relationship with the Baron’s nanny (Leonie Benesch). Their innocence and goodness contrasts sharply with some of the other residents of the village.
The shadow of history hangs heavy here. But while the German setting is far from accidental, the film shouldn’t purely be seen as an allegory of Nazism. There is something more universal about the themes involved. Some will find the ending frustrating, but others will realise that it is more realistic than any neat solution would be. And when the journey to reach it is so fascinating, a little frustration may be worthwhile.
Monday, 14 December 2009
Review - Up
It seems that Pixar is now well into its second phase of its development as a studio. In the first phase, you can imagine the origin of all the films starting with someone saying: “Let’s make a film about...” There was: “Let’s make a film about toys.” Then: “Let’s make a film about insects.” Followed by: “Let’s make a film about monsters/fish/superheroes/cars.” That’s not to say that the resulting movies weren’t all individually wonderful and bursting with ideas, it’s just that the basic set-ups didn’t need a huge amount of explanation to be understood by both adults and children before they saw them.
The second phase of Pixar has seen much stranger stories come to life on the big screen, ones that can’t be explained in one short phrase. These films feel like they are each the vision of one individual with the freedom to make the film they want to (even though we know that animation is the most collaborative medium). Ratatouille wasn’t just a film about rats, it was about a rat who becomes the best chef in the world through pulling the hair of a human. Wall-E wasn’t just about robots, it was about a robot left alone on Earth to clean up after humanity had left the planet. And now comes Up, a film about an old man who attaches thousands of balloons to the top of his house so that he can fly to South America to fulfil a promise, and about the boy scout who tags along for the ride.
Up is a beautiful film in more ways than one. The animation, as you would expect from Pixar, is stunning; the characters are designed in a charming ‘cartoony’ style, with no attempt to make them look creepy and realistic, and the palate is lively and colourful. I saw the film in 3D, and while it was nice, I wouldn’t say it was necessary at all (nothing flies at your face in a thrilling way or anything). It is the writing that is most beautiful, however. The story is extremely poignant, and will leave many 3D glasses stained with tears. It’s not all doom and gloom, though, as there are some very funny bits and silly animals that will keep the children happy.
The voice acting is excellent. The relationship between the old man and the little boy is really at the heart of the film, and they are portrayed brilliantly by Edward Asner and Jordan Nagai respectively. Christopher Plummer seems to be everywhere at the moment, and he is good here as a demented baddie. The score by Michael Giacchino has a lovely retro feel that adds a lot to the film as well.
It may be a slightly complex and unusual story for what is ostensibly a children’s film, but that is what makes Up such a wonderful piece of work for people of all ages. If this is the second phase of Pixar, I can’t wait to see what the third phase will bring.
The second phase of Pixar has seen much stranger stories come to life on the big screen, ones that can’t be explained in one short phrase. These films feel like they are each the vision of one individual with the freedom to make the film they want to (even though we know that animation is the most collaborative medium). Ratatouille wasn’t just a film about rats, it was about a rat who becomes the best chef in the world through pulling the hair of a human. Wall-E wasn’t just about robots, it was about a robot left alone on Earth to clean up after humanity had left the planet. And now comes Up, a film about an old man who attaches thousands of balloons to the top of his house so that he can fly to South America to fulfil a promise, and about the boy scout who tags along for the ride.
Up is a beautiful film in more ways than one. The animation, as you would expect from Pixar, is stunning; the characters are designed in a charming ‘cartoony’ style, with no attempt to make them look creepy and realistic, and the palate is lively and colourful. I saw the film in 3D, and while it was nice, I wouldn’t say it was necessary at all (nothing flies at your face in a thrilling way or anything). It is the writing that is most beautiful, however. The story is extremely poignant, and will leave many 3D glasses stained with tears. It’s not all doom and gloom, though, as there are some very funny bits and silly animals that will keep the children happy.
The voice acting is excellent. The relationship between the old man and the little boy is really at the heart of the film, and they are portrayed brilliantly by Edward Asner and Jordan Nagai respectively. Christopher Plummer seems to be everywhere at the moment, and he is good here as a demented baddie. The score by Michael Giacchino has a lovely retro feel that adds a lot to the film as well.
It may be a slightly complex and unusual story for what is ostensibly a children’s film, but that is what makes Up such a wonderful piece of work for people of all ages. If this is the second phase of Pixar, I can’t wait to see what the third phase will bring.
Thursday, 26 November 2009
Review - The Twilight Saga: New Moon
When you’re young, you do like some almighty guff. Saved by the Bell: Hawaiian Style springs to mind as something that seemed very good at the time, but was in retrospect not exactly high art. The rise of the High School Musical franchise has shown that tween girls are a commercial force to be reckoned with. However, there is a limit to the crap they will take, and based on the audience reaction at the showing of New Moon I attended, the filmmakers are close to that limit. Many scenes were so cheesy that this very young audience just burst out laughing.
It doesn’t matter that New Moon has a terrible script, seriously iffy acting, and that the pacing is shot to hell, though; people will still watch it for two reasons. Firstly, it’s based on a tremendously popular series of books, like Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, so people will be happy no matter how long and boring the films is, eager to see each beloved scene spring forth from their brain and onto the screen. Having a hit in this situation is fool proof, unless you cast Nicole Kidman, of course, in which case people will run away screaming (cf. The Golden Compass).
But they didn’t cast Nicole Kidman, they cast Robert Pattinson, the second reason it will be so popular. All he has to do (in fact, all he does do) is stand in the background and look moody, and the audience laps it up. That is until he takes off his top to reveal a pale torso and strange chest hair, when a collective ‘Ewwwww!’ was expressed from the crowd of 12-year-olds. Not the reaction I expected. Luckily New Moon has the added tween-girl-catnip of Taylor Lautner, a 17-year old who must have been stuffed full of protein shakes like a foie gras goose to produce his new rippled physique. His shirt is always off and the audience approved of his torso.
Following on from where Twilight left off, the film opens with Bella (Kristen Stewart) still madly in love with her vampire boyfriend Edward (Pattinson). But she is very worried because Edward is eternally young and she is ageing. Then Edward leaves her for a reason that is never explained, and she goes into a deep depression. Only her friend Jacob (Lautner) and his amazing abs can cheer up Bella, and he turns out to be a werewolf.
In a film with many problems, the main one is Bella. She is a whiny, characterless girl who when not moping is either bumping into things or putting herself in mortal danger. She has friends but doesn’t like them, no hobbies or interests and nothing to say for herself. Following her progress is like walking along a dark tunnel for a few hours with only a small light at the end of it, which turns out to be a rushed and very strange finale in Italy that wasn’t worth the trip.
The glimpses of Robert Pattinson’s eyes and Taylor Lautner’s fascinating new body are all the film has to recommend it. The Saved by the Bell summer special was really genius in comparison and about ten times more fun.
It doesn’t matter that New Moon has a terrible script, seriously iffy acting, and that the pacing is shot to hell, though; people will still watch it for two reasons. Firstly, it’s based on a tremendously popular series of books, like Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, so people will be happy no matter how long and boring the films is, eager to see each beloved scene spring forth from their brain and onto the screen. Having a hit in this situation is fool proof, unless you cast Nicole Kidman, of course, in which case people will run away screaming (cf. The Golden Compass).
But they didn’t cast Nicole Kidman, they cast Robert Pattinson, the second reason it will be so popular. All he has to do (in fact, all he does do) is stand in the background and look moody, and the audience laps it up. That is until he takes off his top to reveal a pale torso and strange chest hair, when a collective ‘Ewwwww!’ was expressed from the crowd of 12-year-olds. Not the reaction I expected. Luckily New Moon has the added tween-girl-catnip of Taylor Lautner, a 17-year old who must have been stuffed full of protein shakes like a foie gras goose to produce his new rippled physique. His shirt is always off and the audience approved of his torso.
Following on from where Twilight left off, the film opens with Bella (Kristen Stewart) still madly in love with her vampire boyfriend Edward (Pattinson). But she is very worried because Edward is eternally young and she is ageing. Then Edward leaves her for a reason that is never explained, and she goes into a deep depression. Only her friend Jacob (Lautner) and his amazing abs can cheer up Bella, and he turns out to be a werewolf.
In a film with many problems, the main one is Bella. She is a whiny, characterless girl who when not moping is either bumping into things or putting herself in mortal danger. She has friends but doesn’t like them, no hobbies or interests and nothing to say for herself. Following her progress is like walking along a dark tunnel for a few hours with only a small light at the end of it, which turns out to be a rushed and very strange finale in Italy that wasn’t worth the trip.
The glimpses of Robert Pattinson’s eyes and Taylor Lautner’s fascinating new body are all the film has to recommend it. The Saved by the Bell summer special was really genius in comparison and about ten times more fun.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Review - The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
This film has been very eagerly awaited, both because it includes the final performance by Heath Ledger, and because it was rumoured to be a return to form by Terry Gilliam. The positive buzz pre-release was that Lily Cole’s mesmerising and sensitive performance would launch a new star. In reality, the film is a confusing and heartless mess, a fantasy for fantasy’s sake with any deeper intended meaning lost in a sea of swirling CGI.
Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), a mystic of uncertain and ancient origin, travels through London in a decaying carriage cum sideshow stage with his band of misfits, including his beautiful daughter Valentina (Cole). They put on a show in which people go through a magic mirror to be confronted by a phantasmagorical landscape of their own minds (I think; the film is not very clear on this point). Unfortunately, it turns out that Parnassus is an inveterate gambler, and long ago he promised the soul of his daughter to the mysterious Mr Nick (Tom Waits), who we can only assume is the devil.
Into this messy situation drops Tony (Ledger), a man in a white suit who has lost his memory. It is very unfortunate that this had to be Heath’s last role, as any acting is completely drowned out by a terrible accent. Jude Law, Johnny Depp and Colin Farrell (who fill in the Tony-gaps left by Ledger’s death) are all so much better at doing an English accent (unsurprisingly in the case of Law) that it is slightly embarrassing to watch. Tony’s character and motivation are very unclear, but by the time the final big fantasy sequence arrives you really don’t care why everything is happening or how it concludes.
Cole is also very disappointing. Undeniably unusual looking and definitely intelligent, still at times her performance is very amateurish, with clunky phrasing and a faraway look in her eyes. Costumes do most of the work for her. On a positive side, Plummer is gruff and lovely as Parnassus, Verne Troyer gets a speaking part and is quite funny, and Andrew Garfield is exceptional as Tony’s rival for Valentina’s heart. I’ve only seen him in the dreadful Red Riding thing on telly, so it was nice to get a second chance to like him in this Puck-like role.
The best way to survive the film is to not think and just swim around in Gilliam’s mind for a bit. If you stop to consider what’s going on, you’ve had it, because there is not enough magic to sustain an inquiring interest. The use of CGI is the main culprit. Gilliam always had a rather DIY aesthetic, which made his work seem like that of a troubled Victorian. The lavish costumes and sets mostly convey this, but when people go through the magic mirror, they end up inside a level of Katamari Damacy and the charm disappears. Less computer involvement, a clearer story and real emotion (something which his masterpieces The Fisher King, Twelve Monkeys and Brazil included) would have made all the difference.
Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), a mystic of uncertain and ancient origin, travels through London in a decaying carriage cum sideshow stage with his band of misfits, including his beautiful daughter Valentina (Cole). They put on a show in which people go through a magic mirror to be confronted by a phantasmagorical landscape of their own minds (I think; the film is not very clear on this point). Unfortunately, it turns out that Parnassus is an inveterate gambler, and long ago he promised the soul of his daughter to the mysterious Mr Nick (Tom Waits), who we can only assume is the devil.
Into this messy situation drops Tony (Ledger), a man in a white suit who has lost his memory. It is very unfortunate that this had to be Heath’s last role, as any acting is completely drowned out by a terrible accent. Jude Law, Johnny Depp and Colin Farrell (who fill in the Tony-gaps left by Ledger’s death) are all so much better at doing an English accent (unsurprisingly in the case of Law) that it is slightly embarrassing to watch. Tony’s character and motivation are very unclear, but by the time the final big fantasy sequence arrives you really don’t care why everything is happening or how it concludes.
Cole is also very disappointing. Undeniably unusual looking and definitely intelligent, still at times her performance is very amateurish, with clunky phrasing and a faraway look in her eyes. Costumes do most of the work for her. On a positive side, Plummer is gruff and lovely as Parnassus, Verne Troyer gets a speaking part and is quite funny, and Andrew Garfield is exceptional as Tony’s rival for Valentina’s heart. I’ve only seen him in the dreadful Red Riding thing on telly, so it was nice to get a second chance to like him in this Puck-like role.
The best way to survive the film is to not think and just swim around in Gilliam’s mind for a bit. If you stop to consider what’s going on, you’ve had it, because there is not enough magic to sustain an inquiring interest. The use of CGI is the main culprit. Gilliam always had a rather DIY aesthetic, which made his work seem like that of a troubled Victorian. The lavish costumes and sets mostly convey this, but when people go through the magic mirror, they end up inside a level of Katamari Damacy and the charm disappears. Less computer involvement, a clearer story and real emotion (something which his masterpieces The Fisher King, Twelve Monkeys and Brazil included) would have made all the difference.
London Film Festival review - Sweethearts of the Prison Rodeo
Oklahoma hasn’t entered into the collective consciousness much since the days of the Dust Bowl (the terrible bombing of 1995 being an unwelcome exception), but the state has been quietly building up one of the highest incarceration rates in America. Weirdly, it has about twice the average female incarceration rate. Who would have thought that this largely rural state would be locking up its women like there’s no tomorrow?
Also, who would have thought there was such a thing as a ‘prison rodeo’? The Oklahoma State Prison Rodeo has been running since 1940, and is one of only two left. In 2006 they let women prisoners compete for the first time, and this documentary from Bradley Beesley (director of the fabulous Flaming Lips film The Fearless Freaks) follows the girls (and one guy) taking part in 2007.
Like all the best documentaries, it will make you laugh, cry and feel like you’ve come away just that little bit more aware of the world and the amazing people in it. Added to the heartbreaking stories you’d expect of a film set in prison, you’ve got the unique spectacle of Bull Poker (which is just as sensible a sport as it sounds).
And the stories are heartbreaking. Most of the women are mothers, and the pain of separation from their children hangs heavily on their shoulders. Jamie, a murderer with a tiny little-girl voice, has had such a hard life, and Foxy hasn’t seen her family for 12 years. These are by all accounts beautiful young women, yet we know that they have done horrible things. Danny Liles, the only man featured, has taken part in 14 rodeos and has so far served over 20 years for murder. His philosophical musings make up some of the poignant moments.
Underlying the human stories is a deep uneasiness about the ‘war on drugs’, which has put most of the women in prison. But there is no moralising here. The thrill of watching bronco riding or people being gorged by bull horns in the film’s climax is secondary to the thrill of seeing hope for a better life in the future. A wonderful documentary.
Also, who would have thought there was such a thing as a ‘prison rodeo’? The Oklahoma State Prison Rodeo has been running since 1940, and is one of only two left. In 2006 they let women prisoners compete for the first time, and this documentary from Bradley Beesley (director of the fabulous Flaming Lips film The Fearless Freaks) follows the girls (and one guy) taking part in 2007.
Like all the best documentaries, it will make you laugh, cry and feel like you’ve come away just that little bit more aware of the world and the amazing people in it. Added to the heartbreaking stories you’d expect of a film set in prison, you’ve got the unique spectacle of Bull Poker (which is just as sensible a sport as it sounds).
And the stories are heartbreaking. Most of the women are mothers, and the pain of separation from their children hangs heavily on their shoulders. Jamie, a murderer with a tiny little-girl voice, has had such a hard life, and Foxy hasn’t seen her family for 12 years. These are by all accounts beautiful young women, yet we know that they have done horrible things. Danny Liles, the only man featured, has taken part in 14 rodeos and has so far served over 20 years for murder. His philosophical musings make up some of the poignant moments.
Underlying the human stories is a deep uneasiness about the ‘war on drugs’, which has put most of the women in prison. But there is no moralising here. The thrill of watching bronco riding or people being gorged by bull horns in the film’s climax is secondary to the thrill of seeing hope for a better life in the future. A wonderful documentary.
Sunday, 25 October 2009
London Film Festival review - La doppia ora (The Double Hour)
This Italian thriller successfully combines two quite distinct genres: romance and horror. Sonia (Kseniya Rappoport), a lonely hotel cleaner newly arrived in Turin, tries speed dating and meets Guido, an equally-lonely ex-policeman. The two fall in love, but their dream is shattered when some very nasty things start happening, leaving Sonia to question her sanity.
The three screenwriters (Alessandro Fabbri, Ludovica Rampoldi and Stefano Sardo) have crafted a surprising and clever plot that manages to stay just the right side of hokey. First-time director Giuseppe Capotondi has filmed it as a serious noir picture with thoughtful cinematography and editing that really builds up tension.
What really lifts the film, though, are the performances of the two leads, which seem to belong in a gritty drama set on a council estate rather than a thriller. Rappoport (imagine a really pretty version of Juliet Stevenson) looks haunted and lost beautifully throughout, and Timi (a quintessential Italian stallion) mixes strength and subtle sadness in every scene. Both deservedly won awards at the Venice Film Festival.
Apparently La doppia ora may be remade in America, and one can only assume that Hollywood will ignore the moving psychological explorations in favour of plot, which will be a great loss; it is the spanning of so many genres that makes this film really worth seeing.
The three screenwriters (Alessandro Fabbri, Ludovica Rampoldi and Stefano Sardo) have crafted a surprising and clever plot that manages to stay just the right side of hokey. First-time director Giuseppe Capotondi has filmed it as a serious noir picture with thoughtful cinematography and editing that really builds up tension.
What really lifts the film, though, are the performances of the two leads, which seem to belong in a gritty drama set on a council estate rather than a thriller. Rappoport (imagine a really pretty version of Juliet Stevenson) looks haunted and lost beautifully throughout, and Timi (a quintessential Italian stallion) mixes strength and subtle sadness in every scene. Both deservedly won awards at the Venice Film Festival.
Apparently La doppia ora may be remade in America, and one can only assume that Hollywood will ignore the moving psychological explorations in favour of plot, which will be a great loss; it is the spanning of so many genres that makes this film really worth seeing.
London Film Festival review - When You're Strange
One’s likely enjoyment of a music documentary is proportional to one’s liking of the music in question, however good the documentary is. Therefore I love Fearless Freaks (the Flaming Lips documentary), but hate No Direction Home (even with Martin Scorsese directing, for me Bob Dylan is a jerk with a hideous singing voice). A film about the Doors was always going to appeal to me, even just as an excuse to listen to their music, but this retelling of the band’s story using only archive footage really is spell-binding.
When You’re Strange grew from an unlikely source: Dick Wolf’s production company. The creator of the (amazing) Law & Order franchise has had the rights to lots of never-before-seen footage of the Doors for a while, but didn’t know how best to use it. Tom DiCillo, the director of Johnny Suede and Living in Oblivion has managed to weave this together with other archive material to really get under the skin of Jim Morrison, Ray Manzarek, John Densmore and Robby Krieger. Johnny Depp provides a laid back voiceover which is highly respectful of the subject matter. It is also full of surprising facts like that Light My Fire was the first song Krieger ever wrote and that at the height of Morrison’s fame, his estranged father was commanding a fleet in South East Asia.
When I watched the film, I was convinced that new footage had been made for it. A dream sequence interspersed throughout the film which appears to show Morrison driving through the desert after his death had to have been done with actors, I felt, and this annoyed me in its unnecessariness. In fact, these scenes are taken from Morrison’s film HWY: an American Pastoral (1969), and now that I know this I am retrospectively blown away by them. They look so fresh and so starkly beautiful, showing that Morrison’s time at film school was not wasted.
These clips are just some of the treats in this film for fans of the Doors. My only quibble is that with the focus so squarely on Jim, the other members of the band do get left out. This is not surprising as he was a fascinating character, and one that death made iconic. All in all this is a masterful exploration of one of the 60s’ truly great groups and their role in the end of the hippie dream.
When You’re Strange grew from an unlikely source: Dick Wolf’s production company. The creator of the (amazing) Law & Order franchise has had the rights to lots of never-before-seen footage of the Doors for a while, but didn’t know how best to use it. Tom DiCillo, the director of Johnny Suede and Living in Oblivion has managed to weave this together with other archive material to really get under the skin of Jim Morrison, Ray Manzarek, John Densmore and Robby Krieger. Johnny Depp provides a laid back voiceover which is highly respectful of the subject matter. It is also full of surprising facts like that Light My Fire was the first song Krieger ever wrote and that at the height of Morrison’s fame, his estranged father was commanding a fleet in South East Asia.
When I watched the film, I was convinced that new footage had been made for it. A dream sequence interspersed throughout the film which appears to show Morrison driving through the desert after his death had to have been done with actors, I felt, and this annoyed me in its unnecessariness. In fact, these scenes are taken from Morrison’s film HWY: an American Pastoral (1969), and now that I know this I am retrospectively blown away by them. They look so fresh and so starkly beautiful, showing that Morrison’s time at film school was not wasted.
These clips are just some of the treats in this film for fans of the Doors. My only quibble is that with the focus so squarely on Jim, the other members of the band do get left out. This is not surprising as he was a fascinating character, and one that death made iconic. All in all this is a masterful exploration of one of the 60s’ truly great groups and their role in the end of the hippie dream.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
London Film Festival Review - The Men Who Stare at Goats
There aren’t many lightweight comedies about the psychological techniques employed by the American military in wartime, but in a way that is surprising. The Men Who Stare at Goats combines many of society’s favourite things: conspiracy theories, the paranormal, and the ancient conventions of the buddy road movie. Add to that George Clooney using his considerable comedic skills, and you’ve got a sure-fire hit.
This fictionalised account of true events follows a journalist (Ewan McGregor) trying to become embedded with troops at the beginning of the Iraq War and failing miserably. Then he meets Lyn Cassady (Clooney) a loopy salesman who says that he was part of a secret government programme to create soldiers with superpowers, so as to better beat the Russians. The two embark on a mission into Iraq.
Screenwriter Peter Straughan has done a wonderful job of creating a story out of Jon Ronson’s book, tying the whole thing up in a neat little bow. The farcical nature of the stranger-than-fiction truth is played up and the joke quotient is high, with a dash of slapstick thrown in for good measure. A serious message about recent military tactics slips by almost unnoticed. Both Straughan and Ronson are British, which you can tell from the use of Alright by Supergrass over the beginning titles.
It’s lovely to see Clooney getting to be funny in a non-Coen Brother’s film for once, and he plays crazy expertly (the moustache helps). Jeff Bridges reprises his delightful Dude persona as the strung-out founder of the psychic army, and Kevin Spacey hams it up as an evil psychic soldier who never fitted in with the others. Only McGregor fails to really sparkle in his straight man role. It is easy to see why he was cast (they get a lot of mileage from Jedi jokes), but his American accent isn’t really up to par.
At the beginning of the film a title card reads: “More of this is true than you would think.” By the end you will be googling to find out the real story behind this highly enjoyable exercise in silliness.
This fictionalised account of true events follows a journalist (Ewan McGregor) trying to become embedded with troops at the beginning of the Iraq War and failing miserably. Then he meets Lyn Cassady (Clooney) a loopy salesman who says that he was part of a secret government programme to create soldiers with superpowers, so as to better beat the Russians. The two embark on a mission into Iraq.
Screenwriter Peter Straughan has done a wonderful job of creating a story out of Jon Ronson’s book, tying the whole thing up in a neat little bow. The farcical nature of the stranger-than-fiction truth is played up and the joke quotient is high, with a dash of slapstick thrown in for good measure. A serious message about recent military tactics slips by almost unnoticed. Both Straughan and Ronson are British, which you can tell from the use of Alright by Supergrass over the beginning titles.
It’s lovely to see Clooney getting to be funny in a non-Coen Brother’s film for once, and he plays crazy expertly (the moustache helps). Jeff Bridges reprises his delightful Dude persona as the strung-out founder of the psychic army, and Kevin Spacey hams it up as an evil psychic soldier who never fitted in with the others. Only McGregor fails to really sparkle in his straight man role. It is easy to see why he was cast (they get a lot of mileage from Jedi jokes), but his American accent isn’t really up to par.
At the beginning of the film a title card reads: “More of this is true than you would think.” By the end you will be googling to find out the real story behind this highly enjoyable exercise in silliness.
Sunday, 11 October 2009
Review - Dorian Gray
It is perhaps fitting that the only good thing about this adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray is its beautiful shell. Bright and buxom costuming cannot disguise that it is a deeply tedious film with a running time of less than two hours that feels more like three and a half.
The concept of the story, if not its details, is well known. Dorian (Ben Barnes) is a handsome and innocent young man who sells his soul so that he will never age. Instead, his portrait grows old and ugly, showing how his many sins leave their marks on his soul.
Barnes has a pretty face, but a pretty face cannot lift such an uninteresting script. Not even the presence of Colin Firth and Ben Chaplin can raise the viewers’ spirits when confronted with the same scene of gothic debauchery repeated ad infinitum. It is hard work to make opium-infused orgies boring, but director Oliver Parker has managed it. Rebecca Hall (who seems to be in everything) turns up near the end as your typical feisty suffragette type, but by this point the audience has been anaesthetised into a cosy half-nap and will hardly notice as the slow narrative trundles on to its final destination.
The concept of the story, if not its details, is well known. Dorian (Ben Barnes) is a handsome and innocent young man who sells his soul so that he will never age. Instead, his portrait grows old and ugly, showing how his many sins leave their marks on his soul.
Barnes has a pretty face, but a pretty face cannot lift such an uninteresting script. Not even the presence of Colin Firth and Ben Chaplin can raise the viewers’ spirits when confronted with the same scene of gothic debauchery repeated ad infinitum. It is hard work to make opium-infused orgies boring, but director Oliver Parker has managed it. Rebecca Hall (who seems to be in everything) turns up near the end as your typical feisty suffragette type, but by this point the audience has been anaesthetised into a cosy half-nap and will hardly notice as the slow narrative trundles on to its final destination.
Monday, 5 October 2009
Review - Sin Nombre
This film follows a young girl, Sayra (Paulina Gaitan), on the treacherous journey from Honduras, to Mexico and on to America, one of the thousands of illegal immigrants that sneak into Texas each year. It also offers an insight into the gangs that run the slums and prey on the immigrants. As you might expect, it isn’t exactly a laugh riot.
It is, however, extraordinarily gripping and tense. El Casper (Édgar Flores), a young gang member, knows that his whole life is one big catch 22. As his destiny mixes with Sayra’s, the only choices he can make are bad ones, and the audience is along for the ride on the ancient train heading for the border.
Writer and director Cary Fukunaga has obviously done his homework, and has rendered this violent and hopeless world beautifully. The gang, all full-face tattoos and homemade guns, feels particularly real. Cinematographer Adriano Goldman does a wonderful job, making yellows and oranges leap out of the screen as the camera passes through the landscape with the characters in a semi-documentary style. Low-key performances also add to the drama – Gaitan and Flores seem to show all the tragedy behind the statistics in their big brown eyes.
Slumdog Millionaire showed that films about poverty can be big hits, but only if the main character wins a gameshow at the end. Sin Nombre is by far the better film, but only offers its characters a ticket to live undercover in a Walmart- and Home Depot-laden wilderness for the rest of their lives. Depressing, then, but worth it.
It is, however, extraordinarily gripping and tense. El Casper (Édgar Flores), a young gang member, knows that his whole life is one big catch 22. As his destiny mixes with Sayra’s, the only choices he can make are bad ones, and the audience is along for the ride on the ancient train heading for the border.
Writer and director Cary Fukunaga has obviously done his homework, and has rendered this violent and hopeless world beautifully. The gang, all full-face tattoos and homemade guns, feels particularly real. Cinematographer Adriano Goldman does a wonderful job, making yellows and oranges leap out of the screen as the camera passes through the landscape with the characters in a semi-documentary style. Low-key performances also add to the drama – Gaitan and Flores seem to show all the tragedy behind the statistics in their big brown eyes.
Slumdog Millionaire showed that films about poverty can be big hits, but only if the main character wins a gameshow at the end. Sin Nombre is by far the better film, but only offers its characters a ticket to live undercover in a Walmart- and Home Depot-laden wilderness for the rest of their lives. Depressing, then, but worth it.
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Review - Inglourious Basterds
As I may have already mentioned, I am the World’s Biggest Tarantino Fan (TM). I was very upset, therefore, when I saw the trailer for his latest film. It looked like a joke, and not a funny one. Brad Pitt with a comedy accent, Hitler having a tantrum, silly explosions – it was hideous. “Why?” I thought. “Why has this had to happen? What has got into my Quentin? It isn’t even cool. How could Tarantino make a film for which the trailer isn’t cool? You’re telling me you can’t cut together two cool minutes from the whole film?”
Well, whoever made that trailer did the film a disservice. No, it isn’t perfect. And yes, Brad Pitt and Hitler are ridiculous in it. But there are cool bits, tense bits and moving bits that certainly make it worth seeing, even if it still isn’t the sum of these good parts. I’m saying this now because I am going to be doing a lot of complaining in this review and I don’t want you to think I am just a ‘hater’, as they say in hip hop parlance. So I reiterate: do see it because you will enjoy it.
Inglourious Basterds is Tarantino’s first period piece, but as you would expect, it isn’t exactly Merchant Ivory. The Germans have occupied most of mainland Europe, and America has decided to send an elite killing squad of Jewish soldiers into enemy territory to wreak their revenge on the Nazis. They are led by Lieutenant Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), a shouty redneck, and prove very successful at scalping Nazis. The band of misfits becomes involved in a joint British and American plan to assassinate Hitler. Parallel to this, the film follows Shosanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent), a young Jewish woman living in Paris under an assumed name who also gets a chance to kill the Führer and end the war.
It seems silly to criticize the film for being historically inaccurate, as its premise and the outcome are obviously based on fantasy and not fact. However, Tarantino could have made a much better film by making the whole thing slightly more realistic. There are really two films here: one is serious, tense, moving and superbly acted (Shosanna’s story), and the other could be called Carry On Follow that Panzer.
Laurent has an inner strength and quiet beauty as Shosanna. Her unwanted love interest, a young German war hero, is played by the adorable Daniel Brühl, who gives a pitch-perfect little performance. The best part of her story, however, is of course Christoph Waltz as Colonel Hans Landa. His stunningly evil and multi-lingual performance as the Nazi ‘Jew Hunter’ deserves an Oscar. Creepy, clever and charismatic, he reminded me of an Austrian John Malkovitch. Waltz has created one of the all-time great film villains.
The story following Brad Pitt’s ‘bastards’ has its moments (special mention goes to Diane Kruger and Gedeon Burkhard) but all the truly awful bits happen in these passages. Firstly, Mike Myers’s cameo as a British general is so bad that it almost ruins the whole film. I know his parents are from Liverpool, but that doesn’t automatically mean he can do an upper-class English accent. His pronunciation of the word ‘basket’ is particularly painful. And the weird thing is that the part isn’t even written with any jokes in it, so it’s not like his comedy skills are required. Unfathomable.
Secondly, Eli Roth appears as one of the bastards and I really object to this. The guy can’t act. Here he is too scrawny for the part of ‘the Bear Jew’ and his whiny voice is annoying. I’m still upset that his incomprehensible speech at the bar in Death Proof ended up on the soundtrack album when it is the worst bit of that film. I’m sure he and Quentin are great friends, but how many brilliant bits of dialogue are spoken by women in that film and didn’t make it onto the album? Is he now going to be in every Tarantino film? Are they another Scorsese and DiCaprio pairing we will have to endure?
And now on to my third problem with this film: the music. There is no great Tarantino Music Moment here, and this is the first time this has happened in his career. Even Four Rooms had that scatty theme from Combustible Edison. This situation is truly disappointing, because along with that bit at the beginning of James Bond movies where he shoots the camera to John Barry’s score, when Tarantino uses a song correctly it is the coolest thing you can see in a cinema. But I have a bigger problem with the use of music in Inglourious Basterds than mere disappointment.
In the first flush of his career in the early nineties, Tarantino gave many interviews talking about his use of music, and in all of them he made the same point: when a movie uses a song, it owns it forever and it shouldn’t be used again. He always used the same example, that Dirty Dancing should not have used the Ronettes’s Be My Baby because the song already belonged to Scorsese’s Mean Streets. His use of old film scores in the Kill Bill films and Death Proof therefore riled me, but I’m a forgiving sort of girl and convinced myself that it was ok because the music he was using was from quite obscure films. Inglourious Basterd’s soundtrack is again mostly made up of old Ennio Morricone scores, but some of them were also reused in Kill Bill! His only (failed) attempt at a Tarantino Music Moment is with David Bowie’s Cat People (Putting Out the Fire), a song specially written for the quite well-known film Cat People! Tarantino has certainly gone against his own rules with this double-reusing and there is no excuse for such lazy behaviour for such meagre results. Why can’t he just employ a composer to write a score for him like a grown up?
Perhaps because he isn’t a grown up. This film could only have been made by someone who has been given free rein to do whatever he wants, because it really is quite mad. Tarantino shows that he can do great work (the opening scene is tremendous), but also that his ability to self-edit has shrunk with the growth of his ego over the years. Inglourious Basterds is certainly an interesting film with a well structured (if silly) story and some wonderful performances. It deserves to be seen and enjoyed for its many pleasures. However, some may find it easier to ignore its failings than others.
Well, whoever made that trailer did the film a disservice. No, it isn’t perfect. And yes, Brad Pitt and Hitler are ridiculous in it. But there are cool bits, tense bits and moving bits that certainly make it worth seeing, even if it still isn’t the sum of these good parts. I’m saying this now because I am going to be doing a lot of complaining in this review and I don’t want you to think I am just a ‘hater’, as they say in hip hop parlance. So I reiterate: do see it because you will enjoy it.
Inglourious Basterds is Tarantino’s first period piece, but as you would expect, it isn’t exactly Merchant Ivory. The Germans have occupied most of mainland Europe, and America has decided to send an elite killing squad of Jewish soldiers into enemy territory to wreak their revenge on the Nazis. They are led by Lieutenant Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), a shouty redneck, and prove very successful at scalping Nazis. The band of misfits becomes involved in a joint British and American plan to assassinate Hitler. Parallel to this, the film follows Shosanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent), a young Jewish woman living in Paris under an assumed name who also gets a chance to kill the Führer and end the war.
It seems silly to criticize the film for being historically inaccurate, as its premise and the outcome are obviously based on fantasy and not fact. However, Tarantino could have made a much better film by making the whole thing slightly more realistic. There are really two films here: one is serious, tense, moving and superbly acted (Shosanna’s story), and the other could be called Carry On Follow that Panzer.
Laurent has an inner strength and quiet beauty as Shosanna. Her unwanted love interest, a young German war hero, is played by the adorable Daniel Brühl, who gives a pitch-perfect little performance. The best part of her story, however, is of course Christoph Waltz as Colonel Hans Landa. His stunningly evil and multi-lingual performance as the Nazi ‘Jew Hunter’ deserves an Oscar. Creepy, clever and charismatic, he reminded me of an Austrian John Malkovitch. Waltz has created one of the all-time great film villains.
The story following Brad Pitt’s ‘bastards’ has its moments (special mention goes to Diane Kruger and Gedeon Burkhard) but all the truly awful bits happen in these passages. Firstly, Mike Myers’s cameo as a British general is so bad that it almost ruins the whole film. I know his parents are from Liverpool, but that doesn’t automatically mean he can do an upper-class English accent. His pronunciation of the word ‘basket’ is particularly painful. And the weird thing is that the part isn’t even written with any jokes in it, so it’s not like his comedy skills are required. Unfathomable.
Secondly, Eli Roth appears as one of the bastards and I really object to this. The guy can’t act. Here he is too scrawny for the part of ‘the Bear Jew’ and his whiny voice is annoying. I’m still upset that his incomprehensible speech at the bar in Death Proof ended up on the soundtrack album when it is the worst bit of that film. I’m sure he and Quentin are great friends, but how many brilliant bits of dialogue are spoken by women in that film and didn’t make it onto the album? Is he now going to be in every Tarantino film? Are they another Scorsese and DiCaprio pairing we will have to endure?
And now on to my third problem with this film: the music. There is no great Tarantino Music Moment here, and this is the first time this has happened in his career. Even Four Rooms had that scatty theme from Combustible Edison. This situation is truly disappointing, because along with that bit at the beginning of James Bond movies where he shoots the camera to John Barry’s score, when Tarantino uses a song correctly it is the coolest thing you can see in a cinema. But I have a bigger problem with the use of music in Inglourious Basterds than mere disappointment.
In the first flush of his career in the early nineties, Tarantino gave many interviews talking about his use of music, and in all of them he made the same point: when a movie uses a song, it owns it forever and it shouldn’t be used again. He always used the same example, that Dirty Dancing should not have used the Ronettes’s Be My Baby because the song already belonged to Scorsese’s Mean Streets. His use of old film scores in the Kill Bill films and Death Proof therefore riled me, but I’m a forgiving sort of girl and convinced myself that it was ok because the music he was using was from quite obscure films. Inglourious Basterd’s soundtrack is again mostly made up of old Ennio Morricone scores, but some of them were also reused in Kill Bill! His only (failed) attempt at a Tarantino Music Moment is with David Bowie’s Cat People (Putting Out the Fire), a song specially written for the quite well-known film Cat People! Tarantino has certainly gone against his own rules with this double-reusing and there is no excuse for such lazy behaviour for such meagre results. Why can’t he just employ a composer to write a score for him like a grown up?
Perhaps because he isn’t a grown up. This film could only have been made by someone who has been given free rein to do whatever he wants, because it really is quite mad. Tarantino shows that he can do great work (the opening scene is tremendous), but also that his ability to self-edit has shrunk with the growth of his ego over the years. Inglourious Basterds is certainly an interesting film with a well structured (if silly) story and some wonderful performances. It deserves to be seen and enjoyed for its many pleasures. However, some may find it easier to ignore its failings than others.
Monday, 20 July 2009
Review - Brüno
This must be a worrying time for Sacha Baron Cohen. He has run out of characters. Here he revisits Brüno, the first of his triumvirate of creations that were followed by Ali G and Borat. Using the same format as 2006’s über-hilarious Borat, the film follows the gay, Austrian fashion journalist as he tries to become a superstar in America, freaking out the Bible Belt as he goes.
Turns out it is quite easy to shock the Bible Best by being very camp. Who knew? As with his other characters, Baron Cohen is playing on people’s stereotypes whilst putting them into embarrassing situations. He is an extremely intelligent and funny man, so of course these outrageous situations make you laugh, but a few of them go a bit too far and make you squirm (cf. the scene where Brüno comes on to Republican Congressman Ron Paul).
Sometimes he does highlight the huge amount of homophobia in society (he is actually attacked a few times), which has worth in and of itself, but equally gay people may be upset because a lot of the humour is really about Brüno’s unusual dress sense and sex life.
The trouble is, the original idea behind Brüno was not to make people feel uncomfortable about his sexuality, but to show how stupid people in fashion are. He used to go to fashion shows and make people say the most ridiculous, grandiose statements about the importance of their clothes and generally showed them to be awful human beings. The most successful bits of the film stick with this and deal with the crazy world of fashion and celebrity (the twin charity consultants spring to mind; what planet are they from?).
It may have been too big a leap to make such a stupid character from such a stupid world do something profound, but this film is still stupidly funny. Not as successful as Borat, then, but definitely worth seeing. The question is: what will Sacha do next?
Turns out it is quite easy to shock the Bible Best by being very camp. Who knew? As with his other characters, Baron Cohen is playing on people’s stereotypes whilst putting them into embarrassing situations. He is an extremely intelligent and funny man, so of course these outrageous situations make you laugh, but a few of them go a bit too far and make you squirm (cf. the scene where Brüno comes on to Republican Congressman Ron Paul).
Sometimes he does highlight the huge amount of homophobia in society (he is actually attacked a few times), which has worth in and of itself, but equally gay people may be upset because a lot of the humour is really about Brüno’s unusual dress sense and sex life.
The trouble is, the original idea behind Brüno was not to make people feel uncomfortable about his sexuality, but to show how stupid people in fashion are. He used to go to fashion shows and make people say the most ridiculous, grandiose statements about the importance of their clothes and generally showed them to be awful human beings. The most successful bits of the film stick with this and deal with the crazy world of fashion and celebrity (the twin charity consultants spring to mind; what planet are they from?).
It may have been too big a leap to make such a stupid character from such a stupid world do something profound, but this film is still stupidly funny. Not as successful as Borat, then, but definitely worth seeing. The question is: what will Sacha do next?
Saturday, 11 July 2009
Review - Telstar
I should probably start this review by stating that Johnny Remember Me by John Leyton is one of my favourite songs. Music producer Joe Meek, the subject of this biopic and the British answer to Phil Spector, was undoubtedly a genius. But, like Spector, he was also crazy and a murderer. His story of hidden homosexuality, egomania and echo chambers takes place during the embryonic stages of the British music scene. Making a name for himself before the Beatles arrived (Telstar was the first British record to reach number one in America), he stubbornly continued to tread his own path and paid the price.
Based on the play by James Hicks, this film version of Meek’s life is quite a claustrophobic affair, taking place almost exclusively in the little house above a shop that he turned into his studio. I hope this is to show Meek’s growing isolation and paranoia, and not because they could only afford one set. Director Nick Moran (of Lock Stock fame) does a good job of handling a necessarily bitty storyline (real lives rarely fit the traditional three-act structure very well), keeping things interesting and funny.
Com O’Neill is terrific as Meek, reprising his stage role. He is scary, charming, damaged and has perfected the funny voice (Meek was from Gloucestershire) that made Meek hard to take seriously and all the more tragic. O’Neill works hard, running around the studio, twiddling with knobs and throwing tantrums. The effect is quite spellbinding.
The only problem is that this sort of production has become the bread and butter of BBC4. They seem to churn out high-quality, low-cost examinations of interesting British figures’ lives set against the backdrop of Swinging London. Having TV favourites Ralf Little and James Cordon in the cast does little to distance the film from this school of TV drama. The presence of Kevin Spacey as Meek’s business partner, though wholly unnecessary, does make it feel a bit more like a film, I suppose.
This is still a very interesting tale set in an interesting time and surrounded by great music that too few people know about. All in all, a well-told version of Meek’s tragic story with a wonderful central performance.
Based on the play by James Hicks, this film version of Meek’s life is quite a claustrophobic affair, taking place almost exclusively in the little house above a shop that he turned into his studio. I hope this is to show Meek’s growing isolation and paranoia, and not because they could only afford one set. Director Nick Moran (of Lock Stock fame) does a good job of handling a necessarily bitty storyline (real lives rarely fit the traditional three-act structure very well), keeping things interesting and funny.
Com O’Neill is terrific as Meek, reprising his stage role. He is scary, charming, damaged and has perfected the funny voice (Meek was from Gloucestershire) that made Meek hard to take seriously and all the more tragic. O’Neill works hard, running around the studio, twiddling with knobs and throwing tantrums. The effect is quite spellbinding.
The only problem is that this sort of production has become the bread and butter of BBC4. They seem to churn out high-quality, low-cost examinations of interesting British figures’ lives set against the backdrop of Swinging London. Having TV favourites Ralf Little and James Cordon in the cast does little to distance the film from this school of TV drama. The presence of Kevin Spacey as Meek’s business partner, though wholly unnecessary, does make it feel a bit more like a film, I suppose.
This is still a very interesting tale set in an interesting time and surrounded by great music that too few people know about. All in all, a well-told version of Meek’s tragic story with a wonderful central performance.
Review - The Hangover
‘Stag party gone wrong’ isn’t exactly an original idea for a comedy. Even ‘stag party gone wrong in Las Vegas’ has been done before (the extraordinarily dark Very Bad Things). But what The Hangover lacks in originality of plot if makes up for in hilarity of execution.
Doug (Justin Bartha) goes on his stag weekend to the aforementioned Las Vegas with his two best friends Stu (Ed Helms) and Phil (Bradley Cooper), and his fiancé’s strange brother Alan (Zach Galifianakis). The guys wake up the next morning to find their hotel room in disarray and Doug missing.
The rest of the film follows Stu, Phil and Alan as they try and piece together what happened the night before, which was some night. Writers Jon Lucas and Scott Moore (who recently wrote Four Christmases) have filled the script with loads of belly laughs and bizarre set pieces. The director Todd Phillips is a master of these sorts of things (he also helmed Old School and Road Trip), so delivers in style.
The cast is made up of relative unknowns, but I doubt that will be the case for long. Galifianakis is sweet and weird as the loner trying to fit into the group, Helms gets the audience on his side quickly with his geeky and put-upon character, and Cooper makes a great ‘good looking and cool one’. Heather Graham has a lovely little role, showing her undoubted flair for comedy. The only slightly strange part comes from Ken Jeong as a camp mobster, which is perhaps a bit over the top.
This grown-up version of a frat comedy combines a great set up, great performances and great writing to make the funniest film of the year so far.
Doug (Justin Bartha) goes on his stag weekend to the aforementioned Las Vegas with his two best friends Stu (Ed Helms) and Phil (Bradley Cooper), and his fiancé’s strange brother Alan (Zach Galifianakis). The guys wake up the next morning to find their hotel room in disarray and Doug missing.
The rest of the film follows Stu, Phil and Alan as they try and piece together what happened the night before, which was some night. Writers Jon Lucas and Scott Moore (who recently wrote Four Christmases) have filled the script with loads of belly laughs and bizarre set pieces. The director Todd Phillips is a master of these sorts of things (he also helmed Old School and Road Trip), so delivers in style.
The cast is made up of relative unknowns, but I doubt that will be the case for long. Galifianakis is sweet and weird as the loner trying to fit into the group, Helms gets the audience on his side quickly with his geeky and put-upon character, and Cooper makes a great ‘good looking and cool one’. Heather Graham has a lovely little role, showing her undoubted flair for comedy. The only slightly strange part comes from Ken Jeong as a camp mobster, which is perhaps a bit over the top.
This grown-up version of a frat comedy combines a great set up, great performances and great writing to make the funniest film of the year so far.
Review - Last Chance Harvey
There are lots of films whose trailers are better than the actual feature. Last Chance Harvey is one of them. The ad is the perfect two-minute confection, an adorable romantic comedy with an adorable Dustin Hoffman and an adorable Emma Thompson falling in love in London. He buys her a dress, takes her to his daughter’s wedding and they teach each other how to let go and live again.
All this stuff does happen in the film, but the gaps between these events are long and depressing. Harvey Shine (Hoffman) is a jingle writer (why is jingle writing such a common profession in films and on television?) past his prime and about to lose his job. He travels to London to attend his daughter’s wedding, and finds out she’d rather her step-father give her away during the ceremony (what a bitch!). Hurt and alone, he goes back to Heathrow, but meets Kate Walker (Thompson) who works at the airport, someone else hurt and alone.
The drawn-out ‘meet cute’ and Harvey’s subsequent pursuit of Kate are quite sweet, but all the clichés are wheeled out before the film is through. Every landmark of London is wandered past as they talk (I must say, they take highly convoluted routes to get from A to B) and they talk a lot. This is not a film of action but of conversations, and unfortunately the script is not very funny and just doesn’t ring true.
That’s not to say that the performances aren’t authentic and truthful. No one plays crumpled and disappointed quite as well as Dustin Hoffman and this is really a role made for him. His smile is a little sudden and scary, though. Emma Thompson’s Kate seems like an intelligent and real woman who has just somehow ended up on her own and is therefore sad. Her smile is not scary at all.
This is the sort of film that just about manages to pass the time, but it could have been so much more if the writing had just been a little riskier. A good two minutes spread over one and a half hours makes for a thin gruel indeed.
All this stuff does happen in the film, but the gaps between these events are long and depressing. Harvey Shine (Hoffman) is a jingle writer (why is jingle writing such a common profession in films and on television?) past his prime and about to lose his job. He travels to London to attend his daughter’s wedding, and finds out she’d rather her step-father give her away during the ceremony (what a bitch!). Hurt and alone, he goes back to Heathrow, but meets Kate Walker (Thompson) who works at the airport, someone else hurt and alone.
The drawn-out ‘meet cute’ and Harvey’s subsequent pursuit of Kate are quite sweet, but all the clichés are wheeled out before the film is through. Every landmark of London is wandered past as they talk (I must say, they take highly convoluted routes to get from A to B) and they talk a lot. This is not a film of action but of conversations, and unfortunately the script is not very funny and just doesn’t ring true.
That’s not to say that the performances aren’t authentic and truthful. No one plays crumpled and disappointed quite as well as Dustin Hoffman and this is really a role made for him. His smile is a little sudden and scary, though. Emma Thompson’s Kate seems like an intelligent and real woman who has just somehow ended up on her own and is therefore sad. Her smile is not scary at all.
This is the sort of film that just about manages to pass the time, but it could have been so much more if the writing had just been a little riskier. A good two minutes spread over one and a half hours makes for a thin gruel indeed.
Monday, 8 June 2009
Review - Drag Me to Hell
Director Sam Raimi goes back to his horror roots after many successful years in the superhero genre with this rollicking comedy chiller. Christine (Alison Lohman) is a country girl who has moved to the big city and found a nice job at a bank and a nice professor boyfriend (Justin Long). One day she refuses an old lady’s plea and repossesses her house, so the old lady curses her. First she will be tormented by evil spirits, and after three days she will be swallowed up into the fiery pit of hell.
This is a horror film that harks back to both the 70s devilish horror films (The Exorcist and The Omen) and 80s tongue-in-cheek splatterfests, an age before Ringu brought the Japanese style of horror to the West, with its crawling, twisted emaciated spirits, washed out colours and haunted technology. The old gypsy lady (Lorna Raver) is a one-woman splatterfest herself, secreting all manner of nasty things into her handkerchief. The fight between her and Christine in a car is a brutal and hysterical highlight.
Another highlight is Lohman. Female leads in horror films are usually just there to wear tight clothes, and while I wouldn’t say her outfits were loose, Lohman has produced a real character. Christine does some desperate things to try to get rid of the curse, so isn’t all sweetness and screams as you may expect. She exerts a real charm, and seems to be a star in the making.
Raimi has managed to get the tone right throughout, creating a really creepy, funny and satisfying film that feels oven fresh after the stale likes of The Unborn. This is jolly good fun, but be warned: it may leave you with a fear of buttons.
This is a horror film that harks back to both the 70s devilish horror films (The Exorcist and The Omen) and 80s tongue-in-cheek splatterfests, an age before Ringu brought the Japanese style of horror to the West, with its crawling, twisted emaciated spirits, washed out colours and haunted technology. The old gypsy lady (Lorna Raver) is a one-woman splatterfest herself, secreting all manner of nasty things into her handkerchief. The fight between her and Christine in a car is a brutal and hysterical highlight.
Another highlight is Lohman. Female leads in horror films are usually just there to wear tight clothes, and while I wouldn’t say her outfits were loose, Lohman has produced a real character. Christine does some desperate things to try to get rid of the curse, so isn’t all sweetness and screams as you may expect. She exerts a real charm, and seems to be a star in the making.
Raimi has managed to get the tone right throughout, creating a really creepy, funny and satisfying film that feels oven fresh after the stale likes of The Unborn. This is jolly good fun, but be warned: it may leave you with a fear of buttons.
Review - Night at the Museum 2
The first Night at the Museum was probably a bigger hit than people expected, but no-one should ever underestimate how much children enjoy seeing inanimate objects coming to life, especially if they are dinosaur-shaped inanimate objects. The sequel sticks with what worked before, but moves the action from the American Museum of Natural History in New York to the Smithsonian in Washington. Here there are spaceships and paintings, as well as the usual dinosaurs and animals, to be enchanted by the Pharoah’s golden tablet.
Larry Daley (Ben Stiller) is now a successful inventor. When he visits the museum where he used to be a night watchmen, he finds the exhibits packed up ready to be shipped to the Smithsonian. As they arrive at their new home, the magic tablet brings to life an evil Pharoah who wants to take over the world using the tablet’s power. Larry Daley must stop him with the help of his old friends and some new ones, including spunky Amelia Earhart (Amy Adams).
The film is really a succession of cameo appearances, mostly from top notch comic actors. Adams shows the same brilliance with sincerity that she debuted in Enchanted, there is a very funny scene with Superbad’s Jonah Hill, and Hank Azaria is decidedly strange as the Pharoah, but in a good way. An appearance by Christopher Guest as Ivan the Terrible is a bit of a waste (it could really have been played by anyone to the same effect), and the reappearance of a dicky-bowed Ricky Gervais is unwelcome to say the least, but overall it is a assorted box of historical and pop cultural chocolates.
Adults will enjoy the clever references and inventive use of exhibits (the scenes in the National Gallery will be particularly fun for art fans) and children will love the wonder of it all and the silliness. Sure, the plot is fraying at the edges, but this is a film that successfully plays to the crowd. The question is, which museum will host part three?
Larry Daley (Ben Stiller) is now a successful inventor. When he visits the museum where he used to be a night watchmen, he finds the exhibits packed up ready to be shipped to the Smithsonian. As they arrive at their new home, the magic tablet brings to life an evil Pharoah who wants to take over the world using the tablet’s power. Larry Daley must stop him with the help of his old friends and some new ones, including spunky Amelia Earhart (Amy Adams).
The film is really a succession of cameo appearances, mostly from top notch comic actors. Adams shows the same brilliance with sincerity that she debuted in Enchanted, there is a very funny scene with Superbad’s Jonah Hill, and Hank Azaria is decidedly strange as the Pharoah, but in a good way. An appearance by Christopher Guest as Ivan the Terrible is a bit of a waste (it could really have been played by anyone to the same effect), and the reappearance of a dicky-bowed Ricky Gervais is unwelcome to say the least, but overall it is a assorted box of historical and pop cultural chocolates.
Adults will enjoy the clever references and inventive use of exhibits (the scenes in the National Gallery will be particularly fun for art fans) and children will love the wonder of it all and the silliness. Sure, the plot is fraying at the edges, but this is a film that successfully plays to the crowd. The question is, which museum will host part three?
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Review - Star Trek
Prequels to well-loved franchises are big business. By going ‘back to basics’ while simultaneously ‘sexing up’ the characters, new life is breathed into old product. Batman Begins and Casino Royale have been recent success stories for studios, so it was only a matter of time until the origin story of Star Trek, one of the most successful franchises of all time, was explored on the big screen.
Star Trek is not something that is cool to love, but I do. I wouldn’t say I’m a Trekkie, but I know how Captain Picard takes his tea, if you know what I mean (Earl Grey, hot). As for many fans, I’m sure, the prospect of this film was both exciting and troubling for me. Exploring the early life of the Enterprise crew has never been done before, and the thought of someone else playing Spock or Kirk was upsetting. Would they get it right? Would the chemistry be there?
The answer is yes. Star Trek is not, and never has been, only for geeks – the original series and the Next Generation were big hits because they had great characters and loads of interesting ideas. Director J.J. Abrams knows this and has made an exciting and well-paced blockbuster that should appeal to everyone, whether they’ve seen the source material or not. That’s not to say that the feelings of fans have been sidelined by the greed of Hollwood; there are plenty of references to make them feel at home. And if anyone does get angry, they will be sated by the knowledge that this is set in an alternative reality to the TV universe so needn’t impinge on anything that’s gone before. This also cleverly allows writers freedom for future sequels.
The story follows James T. Kirk as he decides to join Starfleet to follow in the steps of his father, who died a hero at the hands of a mysterious Romulan ship. When he realises that the ship and its crew have returned, he must convince Starfleet to stop it, even though he is only a cadet.
Seeing Chris Pine as Kirk took a bit of getting used to, but he actually fits the part very well. Jim is an over-confident idiot, and as a youngster would probably be insufferable. Pine plays him as cocksure dropout with an eye for the ladies. Zachary Quinto is perfect as Spock, and the relationship between Kirk and Karl Urban’s Dr McCoy feels right. The only slightly bum note was made by Simon Pegg as Scottie, here used as comic relief.
Luckily he’s only in a few scenes, and his presence doesn’t detract from an otherwise extremely well-polished film made with love. For some, the prospect of seeing a Vulcan high school will be worth the price of admission alone. Even if that holds no attraction for you, there is much to enjoy. Star Trek will surely be one of the brightest and most successful blockbusters of the summer.
Star Trek is not something that is cool to love, but I do. I wouldn’t say I’m a Trekkie, but I know how Captain Picard takes his tea, if you know what I mean (Earl Grey, hot). As for many fans, I’m sure, the prospect of this film was both exciting and troubling for me. Exploring the early life of the Enterprise crew has never been done before, and the thought of someone else playing Spock or Kirk was upsetting. Would they get it right? Would the chemistry be there?
The answer is yes. Star Trek is not, and never has been, only for geeks – the original series and the Next Generation were big hits because they had great characters and loads of interesting ideas. Director J.J. Abrams knows this and has made an exciting and well-paced blockbuster that should appeal to everyone, whether they’ve seen the source material or not. That’s not to say that the feelings of fans have been sidelined by the greed of Hollwood; there are plenty of references to make them feel at home. And if anyone does get angry, they will be sated by the knowledge that this is set in an alternative reality to the TV universe so needn’t impinge on anything that’s gone before. This also cleverly allows writers freedom for future sequels.
The story follows James T. Kirk as he decides to join Starfleet to follow in the steps of his father, who died a hero at the hands of a mysterious Romulan ship. When he realises that the ship and its crew have returned, he must convince Starfleet to stop it, even though he is only a cadet.
Seeing Chris Pine as Kirk took a bit of getting used to, but he actually fits the part very well. Jim is an over-confident idiot, and as a youngster would probably be insufferable. Pine plays him as cocksure dropout with an eye for the ladies. Zachary Quinto is perfect as Spock, and the relationship between Kirk and Karl Urban’s Dr McCoy feels right. The only slightly bum note was made by Simon Pegg as Scottie, here used as comic relief.
Luckily he’s only in a few scenes, and his presence doesn’t detract from an otherwise extremely well-polished film made with love. For some, the prospect of seeing a Vulcan high school will be worth the price of admission alone. Even if that holds no attraction for you, there is much to enjoy. Star Trek will surely be one of the brightest and most successful blockbusters of the summer.
Monday, 18 May 2009
Review - X-Men Origins: Wolverine
Hugh Jackman was recently named People’s Sexiest Man Alive. I personally find him to be dull as dishwater, if nice and smiley with it. His Wolverine, though, is the coolest creature to wear a pair of jeans since James Dean (must be the sideburns). He was everyone’s favourite in the X-Men films, so a stand-alone adventure makes complete commercial sense. Whether it would make artistic sense was not so clear.
Luckily, I can report that this account of Wolverine’s life before taking residence in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters stands up well against the modern Marvel pantheon of film adaptations: not as great as the first few Spider-Man or X-Men films, but it beats hands down the lower tier of Hulk, Ghost Rider and Electra.
Jackman is brilliant, wandering around like the cock of the walk. His romance with Lynn Collins is quite sweet, and Liev Schreiber is enjoyably jowly and moody as half-brother Sabretooth.
While this could have been improved with a bigger canvas and more ambition, you get what you need for a Wolverine film: a storyline that actually makes sense within its own universe, deadpan one liners, thrilling fights, and lots of adamantium claws. Job done.
Luckily, I can report that this account of Wolverine’s life before taking residence in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters stands up well against the modern Marvel pantheon of film adaptations: not as great as the first few Spider-Man or X-Men films, but it beats hands down the lower tier of Hulk, Ghost Rider and Electra.
Jackman is brilliant, wandering around like the cock of the walk. His romance with Lynn Collins is quite sweet, and Liev Schreiber is enjoyably jowly and moody as half-brother Sabretooth.
While this could have been improved with a bigger canvas and more ambition, you get what you need for a Wolverine film: a storyline that actually makes sense within its own universe, deadpan one liners, thrilling fights, and lots of adamantium claws. Job done.
Review - In the Loop
Armando Iannucci is one of Britain’s comedy maestros. He first came to my attention presenting the satirical review The Friday Night Armistice, although I had already unwittingly experienced his writing with the sublime The Day Today. After the painfully funny I’m Alan Partridge, I followed his work with interest, enjoying the more experimental The Armando Iannucci Shows and Time Trumpet (the future versions of Jamie Oliver and June Sarpong being my favourites). Then came The Thick of It.
Widely considered the second best political comedy after Yes, Minister (that clip of John Redwood trying to sing along to the Welsh national anthem comes third in the rankings), it followed a bumbling minister (Chris Langham) attempting to build his career in Westminster, only to be foiled by his own stupidity and the tangled web of deceit and spin that encases our government. Although Langham was officially the main character, the real star of the show was Peter Capaldi’s Malcolm Tucker, the PM’s top communications advisor and the angriest man in Britain.
After Langham’s public fall from grace, they still managed two specials without his character, widening the purview of the programme to include the opposition and the press. In the Loop is almost a natural progression, this time looking at foreign policy instead of domestic. I say ‘almost’, because it doesn’t operate in the same universe as The Thick of It, but in an alternative dimension where all the same faces are there, but they have different names and work in different departments. Only the spin doctors Malcolm and Jamie stay untouched by this shift, which is just slightly strange for fans.
True to form, In the Loop is a bitingly accurate take on the lead up to a war not unlike the Iraq one. Junior Foreign Minister Simon Foster (Tom Hollander) becomes caught in the middle of the battle between hawks and doves in Washington as the Secretaries of State use him as a tiny and very confused pawn. Malcolm must keep him ‘on message’ and sort out the mess, as usual, but he is dealing with bigger fish than ever before.
Worryingly, it is likely that this is a very accurate take on recent events, as Iannucci has had lots of secret advisors from both sides of the Atlantic. It’s all here: 18-year-old interns running state departments, dodgy dossiers being made even dodgier and then being presented to the UN, everything.
As previously noted, the usual players are present, muttering intelligently. They are joined by an American contingent which includes James Gandolfini as a General (he looks very pleased to be dealing with a decent script again after leaving The Sopranos), Mimi Kennedy (Dharma’s mother from Dharma and Greg with very different hair) and Ann Chlumsky (the girl from My Girl!).
But it is the writing that really makes the film. The devastating put-downs and deep social embarrassment mark this out as part of a long British comic tradition. Of course, this is tragi-comedy – we know what happened next. Hilarious, but still quite depressing, this is a must-see piece of work.
Widely considered the second best political comedy after Yes, Minister (that clip of John Redwood trying to sing along to the Welsh national anthem comes third in the rankings), it followed a bumbling minister (Chris Langham) attempting to build his career in Westminster, only to be foiled by his own stupidity and the tangled web of deceit and spin that encases our government. Although Langham was officially the main character, the real star of the show was Peter Capaldi’s Malcolm Tucker, the PM’s top communications advisor and the angriest man in Britain.
After Langham’s public fall from grace, they still managed two specials without his character, widening the purview of the programme to include the opposition and the press. In the Loop is almost a natural progression, this time looking at foreign policy instead of domestic. I say ‘almost’, because it doesn’t operate in the same universe as The Thick of It, but in an alternative dimension where all the same faces are there, but they have different names and work in different departments. Only the spin doctors Malcolm and Jamie stay untouched by this shift, which is just slightly strange for fans.
True to form, In the Loop is a bitingly accurate take on the lead up to a war not unlike the Iraq one. Junior Foreign Minister Simon Foster (Tom Hollander) becomes caught in the middle of the battle between hawks and doves in Washington as the Secretaries of State use him as a tiny and very confused pawn. Malcolm must keep him ‘on message’ and sort out the mess, as usual, but he is dealing with bigger fish than ever before.
Worryingly, it is likely that this is a very accurate take on recent events, as Iannucci has had lots of secret advisors from both sides of the Atlantic. It’s all here: 18-year-old interns running state departments, dodgy dossiers being made even dodgier and then being presented to the UN, everything.
As previously noted, the usual players are present, muttering intelligently. They are joined by an American contingent which includes James Gandolfini as a General (he looks very pleased to be dealing with a decent script again after leaving The Sopranos), Mimi Kennedy (Dharma’s mother from Dharma and Greg with very different hair) and Ann Chlumsky (the girl from My Girl!).
But it is the writing that really makes the film. The devastating put-downs and deep social embarrassment mark this out as part of a long British comic tradition. Of course, this is tragi-comedy – we know what happened next. Hilarious, but still quite depressing, this is a must-see piece of work.
Review - Observe and Report
Seth Rogen is a major player in mainstream American comedy cinema. The writer of Superbad and star of Knocked Up, he seems to turn up in most films as a lovable stoner. And that’s what makes Observe and Report so confusing. This is not a film that fits into the mould of his previous films, although it gives every indication to the viewer that it does. It would be better to go in thinking of it as an indie film in the style of Juno or Napolean Dynamite, only less arch and idiosyncratic.
Rogen plays Ronnie Barnhardt, the chief security officer in a suburban mall that is plagued by a flasher. His delusions of grandeur lead him to believe he can bring the perp to justice single-handedly, without the help of the police (led by a very tanned Ray Liotta). He also believes he can win the heart of Anna Faris’s slutty make-up counter girl.
Ronnie appears to be the usual slobby underachiever played by Rogen, but some distance into the story it becomes clear that he is unstable. His mental illness isn’t used to poke fun at him, exactly, but this isn’t a serious examination of manic depression either. Jody Hill, the writer and director, must have been hoping to achieve something, but I’m not sure what that was.
Faris is wonderfully un-self-conscious as usual, puking and hitching up her skirt with aplomb, and Rogen plays a crazed innocent well. There are still plenty of jokes, funny lines and very silly situations, but the whole thing doesn’t quite gel. Probably best not to over-analyse this one, just enjoy the weirdness and silliness of it all.
Rogen plays Ronnie Barnhardt, the chief security officer in a suburban mall that is plagued by a flasher. His delusions of grandeur lead him to believe he can bring the perp to justice single-handedly, without the help of the police (led by a very tanned Ray Liotta). He also believes he can win the heart of Anna Faris’s slutty make-up counter girl.
Ronnie appears to be the usual slobby underachiever played by Rogen, but some distance into the story it becomes clear that he is unstable. His mental illness isn’t used to poke fun at him, exactly, but this isn’t a serious examination of manic depression either. Jody Hill, the writer and director, must have been hoping to achieve something, but I’m not sure what that was.
Faris is wonderfully un-self-conscious as usual, puking and hitching up her skirt with aplomb, and Rogen plays a crazed innocent well. There are still plenty of jokes, funny lines and very silly situations, but the whole thing doesn’t quite gel. Probably best not to over-analyse this one, just enjoy the weirdness and silliness of it all.
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Review - I Love You, Man
There have been loads of reliably funny American comedies in recent years, mostly involving Seth Rogen. I Love You, Man does not, but it is another man-centred titter-fest with a load of familiar faces. Quite dirty, quite sweet, it’s everything you would expect if you think Superbad and Knocked Up – which is to say very good.
Paul Rudd plays Peter, a serious fellow who has always concentrated on his romantic relationships with women at the expense of his platonic ones with men. When he gets engaged to Zooey (Rashida Jones), he realises he has no-one to be his best man so he decides to find a friend. He meets Sydney (Jason Segel, the big dopey one from How I Met Your Mother and Forgetting Sarah Marshall), a slob with no responsibilities.
The first act is actually quite sad. The awkwardness of trying to make new friends is something that we can all relate to, and Rudd is the everyman who always seems to put his foot in it. Things brighten up when Sydney turns up, and the film’s pitch of ‘a guy learning how to be a guy’ starts.
It is a funny idea, and it is well played by the lovable Rudd and Segel. They have found themselves on the frat-comedy treadmill of late so are well-practiced. There’s a welcome role for Jaime Pressly as one of Zooey’s friends, and Jon Favreau plays against type by portraying a meanie.
All in all, this is another slightly-less-than-instantly forgettable comedy with plenty of laughs throughout.
Paul Rudd plays Peter, a serious fellow who has always concentrated on his romantic relationships with women at the expense of his platonic ones with men. When he gets engaged to Zooey (Rashida Jones), he realises he has no-one to be his best man so he decides to find a friend. He meets Sydney (Jason Segel, the big dopey one from How I Met Your Mother and Forgetting Sarah Marshall), a slob with no responsibilities.
The first act is actually quite sad. The awkwardness of trying to make new friends is something that we can all relate to, and Rudd is the everyman who always seems to put his foot in it. Things brighten up when Sydney turns up, and the film’s pitch of ‘a guy learning how to be a guy’ starts.
It is a funny idea, and it is well played by the lovable Rudd and Segel. They have found themselves on the frat-comedy treadmill of late so are well-practiced. There’s a welcome role for Jaime Pressly as one of Zooey’s friends, and Jon Favreau plays against type by portraying a meanie.
All in all, this is another slightly-less-than-instantly forgettable comedy with plenty of laughs throughout.
Review - Dragonball Evolution
I have been forced to play many Dragonball computer games over the years by my brother, so I have built-up an aversion to the brand. It was with trepidation, then, that I watched Dragonball Evolution. I needn’t have worried. The film has appalled fans for its simplified and bland Hollywood storyline, but I don’t mind. Because what it loses in depth, it gains by removing the original’s grotesque animation style. The characters may be played by rejects of High School Musical, but at least they aren’t body-building midgets with hair almost as tall as they are, as in the cartoons.
Goku is your average lonely teenager, spending his time going to school and mastering mystical martial arts with his grandfather. Little does he know that he is destined to save the world. Piccolo, an evil lord of some sort from the past, has returned and Goku and his rag-tag gang have to gather seven magic ‘dragonballs’ to defeat him.
Obviously this is a load of nonsense, but there are some decent martial arts thanks to Chow Yun-Fat, who also stars. The film is aimed at tweens and early teens (Emmy Rossum’s character dresses exactly how an 8-year-old thinks a bad girl would) and will satisfy them with thrills and giggles. The most interesting thing for a non-tween or early teen is the unusual world it presents, a Japano-American utopia (at least until Piccolo comes along) in the not-too-distant future. Otherwise, as long as you aren’t a fan, this is a harmless but low-quality diversion.
Goku is your average lonely teenager, spending his time going to school and mastering mystical martial arts with his grandfather. Little does he know that he is destined to save the world. Piccolo, an evil lord of some sort from the past, has returned and Goku and his rag-tag gang have to gather seven magic ‘dragonballs’ to defeat him.
Obviously this is a load of nonsense, but there are some decent martial arts thanks to Chow Yun-Fat, who also stars. The film is aimed at tweens and early teens (Emmy Rossum’s character dresses exactly how an 8-year-old thinks a bad girl would) and will satisfy them with thrills and giggles. The most interesting thing for a non-tween or early teen is the unusual world it presents, a Japano-American utopia (at least until Piccolo comes along) in the not-too-distant future. Otherwise, as long as you aren’t a fan, this is a harmless but low-quality diversion.
Thursday, 26 March 2009
Review - Bronson
Why would someone actively try to spend 30 years in solitary confinement? That is not something you will find out while watching Bronson, the biopic of Britain’s most violent prisoner. The director Nicolas Winding Refn has chosen to ignore the ‘why’ and focus on the ‘how’ of the situation in this highly stylised film. This is A Clockwork Orange with all that pesky parable removed.
The story of Charles Bronson (real name Michael Peterson) is a simple one. He went to prison at 22 and stayed there through his continual protests, beatings and hostage taking, all carried out for seemingly no reason. The film shows various scenes from these explosions of rage and weirdness. We follow Charles from prison, to a mental institution, to the outside world, and back to prison again.
Ultraviolence and contrivances take up the space left by this lack of narrative. The beatings are designed to look brutal but always cool, accompanied by achingly beautiful classical tracks (a rather obvious use of a device from Burgess and Kubrick’s work that is repeated too many times). This is one of those films where everyone speaks in a strange, stilted way, as if they’ve been heavily sedated or are Tony Blair. Naturalistic it ain’t.
Tom Hardy’s unnerving central performance just about makes it all work. He really goes for it, spending most of the film naked and writhing in dirt, or walking with mad eyes and the stiff gait of a Sergeant Major. Hardy is sure to be a star if he can keep getting the parts.
Bronson is relentlessly horrible and pointless. But that’s our Charlie! Not a great film, then, but perhaps a fitting one considering its subject matter.
The story of Charles Bronson (real name Michael Peterson) is a simple one. He went to prison at 22 and stayed there through his continual protests, beatings and hostage taking, all carried out for seemingly no reason. The film shows various scenes from these explosions of rage and weirdness. We follow Charles from prison, to a mental institution, to the outside world, and back to prison again.
Ultraviolence and contrivances take up the space left by this lack of narrative. The beatings are designed to look brutal but always cool, accompanied by achingly beautiful classical tracks (a rather obvious use of a device from Burgess and Kubrick’s work that is repeated too many times). This is one of those films where everyone speaks in a strange, stilted way, as if they’ve been heavily sedated or are Tony Blair. Naturalistic it ain’t.
Tom Hardy’s unnerving central performance just about makes it all work. He really goes for it, spending most of the film naked and writhing in dirt, or walking with mad eyes and the stiff gait of a Sergeant Major. Hardy is sure to be a star if he can keep getting the parts.
Bronson is relentlessly horrible and pointless. But that’s our Charlie! Not a great film, then, but perhaps a fitting one considering its subject matter.
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
Review - Watchmen
First of all, I really love the graphic novel this film is based on. When I first read it, I was totally amazed at its depth and scope, the masterful way in which it recreates a whole world. There is no way that this long and dense story could be fully translated into one 2 hr 40 min movie. However, I believe that such an adaptation couldn’t get much better than this. However, for those who haven’t read the book, it could quite possibly be the maddest film they’ve ever seen.
To condense the story into a few pithy sentences would be an insult to Alan Moore, but I’m going to try it anyway. The film takes place in an alternative version of the Cold War in which superheroes existed and changed the course of history. It is 1985, and caped-crusader-dom has been banned, but it seems that someone is trying to kill off the ex-super people. The story shifts back and forth through time to build a picture of what led to this point.
As one would expect from the director of 300, the visuals are stunning. Dave Gibbons’ panels from the comic come to life in the noir-ish, grimy streets of pre-Giuliani New York, enlivened by touches of 80s neon. Whole swathes of dialogue are lifted straight from the comic as well – fans can be assured that the source material was revered. And then some.
My first minor bug-bear with the film concerns the soundtrack. Now, don’t get me wrong, I really love 60s music (my iTunes would testify to that effect, if an Apple application could take the stand), but sometimes it felt as if any old track from a ‘best of the 60s’ compilation was used. Nena’s 99 Luftballons, a suitably apocalyptic track, made a welcome appearance, however, and I loved the use of KC and the Sunshine Band in the 70s. I really don’t know what to make of the scene with Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. I can only assume it was a joke.
My second minor bug-bear concerns the casting. Using quasi-unknowns was a smart move, as it keeps costs down and helps the audience concentrate on the characters (imagine how awful it would have been to have Scarlett Johansson as the Silk Spectre). Jackie Earle Haley is perfect as Rorschach; his gravelly voice and unhinged demeanour accurately recreate this most popular of characters from the comic. Jeffrey Dean Morgan as the Comedian also really impresses with his supercool thug shtick, but he is the only actor who realistically ages; Patrick Wilson (who I recognised from Hard Candy) is very good as Nite Owl, but is a little young and trim to play an out-of-shape geek in his forties, and the Silk Spectre (Malin Akerman) never looks a day over thirty. The real problem, however, is Ozymandias, who seems to be played by David Spade. Ozymandias (actually Matthew Goode) should be a square-jawed Ken of a man.
These points aside, Watchmen is an amazing cinematic experience, full of ultraviolence and style. While it is not as profound as the book, it is clearly drawn from the mind of someone full of crazy and brilliant ideas. I’m not sure if a person who has never read the comic would understand what was going on, but the cinema trip will be an interesting experience none the less. If you are a fan, languish in seeing what’s in your head come to life on screen, relaxed in the knowledge that there is a director’s cut coming with all the Tales of the Black Freighter bits filled in.
To condense the story into a few pithy sentences would be an insult to Alan Moore, but I’m going to try it anyway. The film takes place in an alternative version of the Cold War in which superheroes existed and changed the course of history. It is 1985, and caped-crusader-dom has been banned, but it seems that someone is trying to kill off the ex-super people. The story shifts back and forth through time to build a picture of what led to this point.
As one would expect from the director of 300, the visuals are stunning. Dave Gibbons’ panels from the comic come to life in the noir-ish, grimy streets of pre-Giuliani New York, enlivened by touches of 80s neon. Whole swathes of dialogue are lifted straight from the comic as well – fans can be assured that the source material was revered. And then some.
My first minor bug-bear with the film concerns the soundtrack. Now, don’t get me wrong, I really love 60s music (my iTunes would testify to that effect, if an Apple application could take the stand), but sometimes it felt as if any old track from a ‘best of the 60s’ compilation was used. Nena’s 99 Luftballons, a suitably apocalyptic track, made a welcome appearance, however, and I loved the use of KC and the Sunshine Band in the 70s. I really don’t know what to make of the scene with Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. I can only assume it was a joke.
My second minor bug-bear concerns the casting. Using quasi-unknowns was a smart move, as it keeps costs down and helps the audience concentrate on the characters (imagine how awful it would have been to have Scarlett Johansson as the Silk Spectre). Jackie Earle Haley is perfect as Rorschach; his gravelly voice and unhinged demeanour accurately recreate this most popular of characters from the comic. Jeffrey Dean Morgan as the Comedian also really impresses with his supercool thug shtick, but he is the only actor who realistically ages; Patrick Wilson (who I recognised from Hard Candy) is very good as Nite Owl, but is a little young and trim to play an out-of-shape geek in his forties, and the Silk Spectre (Malin Akerman) never looks a day over thirty. The real problem, however, is Ozymandias, who seems to be played by David Spade. Ozymandias (actually Matthew Goode) should be a square-jawed Ken of a man.
These points aside, Watchmen is an amazing cinematic experience, full of ultraviolence and style. While it is not as profound as the book, it is clearly drawn from the mind of someone full of crazy and brilliant ideas. I’m not sure if a person who has never read the comic would understand what was going on, but the cinema trip will be an interesting experience none the less. If you are a fan, languish in seeing what’s in your head come to life on screen, relaxed in the knowledge that there is a director’s cut coming with all the Tales of the Black Freighter bits filled in.
Monday, 9 March 2009
Review - American Teen
American high school is one of the scariest concepts imaginable to people from Europe (and I believe to many Americans as well). The caste system, the humiliating lunch incidents, the horrors of the vote for homecoming queen, all of this is both reassuringly alien and frighteningly familiar to the generations brought up on American-dominated popular culture. And while the idea of attending one of these neurosis factories is repulsive, watching people doing just that is endlessly fascinating.
Everyone knows that The Breakfast Club is one of the best high school films ever and reveals deep truths about this shallow institution, as well as adolescence more generally. However, that doesn’t mean that all teenagers fit one of the archetypes featured in it (a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal). The director Nanette Burstein has decided to ignore this and make a documentary that chooses real people based on their resemblance to the characters in that film.
American Teen follows four students at Warsaw Community High School in Indiana in their senior year. There’s Megan the queen bee, Jake the nerd, Colin the jock and Hannah the misfit. Each one leads very separate lives filled with pressure, either from their parents or from themselves. There are smiles and tears as they decide their future and deal with all the issues you’d expect to see in an episode of Beverly Hills: 90210 or Saved by the Bell. Some of the storylines are so perfect and well filmed that it is difficult to believe there’s no script.
The people are engaging and their stories are compelling, but the film did not produce the emotion in me that I thought it would. The closest it gets is with Hannah, a pretty, funny and creative girl who becomes depressed. You just want to hug her and tell her that everything will be ok and that she isn’t worthless.
It is very interesting to see the reality of the high school experience up close and to find out where everyone ends up. I just wish that less was made of the The Breakfast Club connection in the marketing of the film. It annoys me that a relatively minor player in proceedings has been given a starring role in posters and the end credits just to fill in for Judd Nelson’s character. It lacks integrity, something that a documentaries normally have buckets of.
Everyone knows that The Breakfast Club is one of the best high school films ever and reveals deep truths about this shallow institution, as well as adolescence more generally. However, that doesn’t mean that all teenagers fit one of the archetypes featured in it (a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal). The director Nanette Burstein has decided to ignore this and make a documentary that chooses real people based on their resemblance to the characters in that film.
American Teen follows four students at Warsaw Community High School in Indiana in their senior year. There’s Megan the queen bee, Jake the nerd, Colin the jock and Hannah the misfit. Each one leads very separate lives filled with pressure, either from their parents or from themselves. There are smiles and tears as they decide their future and deal with all the issues you’d expect to see in an episode of Beverly Hills: 90210 or Saved by the Bell. Some of the storylines are so perfect and well filmed that it is difficult to believe there’s no script.
The people are engaging and their stories are compelling, but the film did not produce the emotion in me that I thought it would. The closest it gets is with Hannah, a pretty, funny and creative girl who becomes depressed. You just want to hug her and tell her that everything will be ok and that she isn’t worthless.
It is very interesting to see the reality of the high school experience up close and to find out where everyone ends up. I just wish that less was made of the The Breakfast Club connection in the marketing of the film. It annoys me that a relatively minor player in proceedings has been given a starring role in posters and the end credits just to fill in for Judd Nelson’s character. It lacks integrity, something that a documentaries normally have buckets of.
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Review - The Unborn
The Unborn is the first Kaballah horror film. A lot of people would have assumed that was Revolver, but they would have been wrong. Here they are: ghosts that fit into Madonna’s belief system. And what derivative, logic-less ghosts they are.
Casey (Odette Yustman) is a college girl who starts seeing creepy 7-year-old boys, dogs wearing human masks, and ominous turqoise gloves left on pavements. These unnerving visions escalate, and her eyes start turning blue. Then she finds out that she had a stillborn twin. It seems that he wants to be born again.
How and why is not made clear. Instead we have the usual shocks made up of wide-eyed children, insect lavae, and crawly, twisty, creaky old people. This is very much inspired by Japanese horror like Ju-On: The Grudge. Films like this never really make sense, but they can at least be frightening. Unfortunately, The Unborn is just silly.
Yustman successfully walks around in her underwear and is freaked out by what’s going on, the main gist of her character. She looks like a cross between Jessica Alba and Jennifer Connolly, both actresses who have appeared in similar roles. This gives the whole film a sense of deja vu. The lovely Gary Oldman and Idris Elba appear, but their formidale skills are not used in their brief time on screen.
This is a trying, silly horror, which has the bad taste to involve the Holocaust in its backstory. One to avoid.
Casey (Odette Yustman) is a college girl who starts seeing creepy 7-year-old boys, dogs wearing human masks, and ominous turqoise gloves left on pavements. These unnerving visions escalate, and her eyes start turning blue. Then she finds out that she had a stillborn twin. It seems that he wants to be born again.
How and why is not made clear. Instead we have the usual shocks made up of wide-eyed children, insect lavae, and crawly, twisty, creaky old people. This is very much inspired by Japanese horror like Ju-On: The Grudge. Films like this never really make sense, but they can at least be frightening. Unfortunately, The Unborn is just silly.
Yustman successfully walks around in her underwear and is freaked out by what’s going on, the main gist of her character. She looks like a cross between Jessica Alba and Jennifer Connolly, both actresses who have appeared in similar roles. This gives the whole film a sense of deja vu. The lovely Gary Oldman and Idris Elba appear, but their formidale skills are not used in their brief time on screen.
This is a trying, silly horror, which has the bad taste to involve the Holocaust in its backstory. One to avoid.
Review - Confessions of a Shopaholic
The romantic comedy has always been a bankable genre, but the success of the Sex and the City movie proved to studios that it is not just slushy love that appeals to a certain type of girl. Putting pretty clothes on screen can have the same money-making effect as an adorable couple breaking up and getting back together in a far-fetched way. Confessions of a Shopaholic is the predictable result: a poor woman’s Legally Blonde with a focus on the mechanics of purchasing accessories. It even uses Sex and the City’s stylist. In the end, the jewel colours of the outfits are about ten times brighter than the main character, and a hundred times more compelling than the story.
Rebecca Bloomwood (Isla Fisher) is a dizzy redhead who has somehow managed to hold down a job at a gardening magazine for four years, although I doubt she could call a spade a spade if she ever saw one. Her shopping habit has resulted in wardrobes full of loud separates and creditors banging on her door. When she loses her job, she stumbles into another one at a personal finance magazine. The girl who can’t live within her means for toffee now has to give money advice. The irony! She starts writing a column in which investments and tax-free savings are explained using clothing and shopping analogies. It causes a sensation, and everyone loves her.
Now, even forgiving the extremely offensive notion that women can only understand monetary concepts if they are framed using shoe metaphors, it is pretty far-fetched to think that a financial column would get any attention at all. Still, this is where Rebecca finds herself. But will she get her dream job at a fashion magazine? Will she get with her sexy boss (Hugh Dancy)?
Fisher is a natural comedienne, and does a lot with what she is given. The problem is, the jokes are not very funny. Her strange dance is perhaps the best bit, but it is also bizarre and unnerving. Dancy plays a character that is simply handsome and English, nothing more and nothing less. Sweet cameos by Joan Cusack and John Goodman as Rebecca’s parents cannot save this film from its own low expectations.
P.J. Hogan has directed two of the best and most poignant romantic comedies of all time, Muriel’s Wedding and My Best Friend’s Wedding, but hasn’t really had a hit since. Confessions of a Shopaholic will probably not change the string of bad luck. The credit crunch has worn away everyone’s patience towards characters like Rebecca. She is now just an annoying, whining bint who should buck up her ideas and do without that darling little scarf or cute pair of heels. It’s people like her who got us in this mess in the first place.
Rebecca Bloomwood (Isla Fisher) is a dizzy redhead who has somehow managed to hold down a job at a gardening magazine for four years, although I doubt she could call a spade a spade if she ever saw one. Her shopping habit has resulted in wardrobes full of loud separates and creditors banging on her door. When she loses her job, she stumbles into another one at a personal finance magazine. The girl who can’t live within her means for toffee now has to give money advice. The irony! She starts writing a column in which investments and tax-free savings are explained using clothing and shopping analogies. It causes a sensation, and everyone loves her.
Now, even forgiving the extremely offensive notion that women can only understand monetary concepts if they are framed using shoe metaphors, it is pretty far-fetched to think that a financial column would get any attention at all. Still, this is where Rebecca finds herself. But will she get her dream job at a fashion magazine? Will she get with her sexy boss (Hugh Dancy)?
Fisher is a natural comedienne, and does a lot with what she is given. The problem is, the jokes are not very funny. Her strange dance is perhaps the best bit, but it is also bizarre and unnerving. Dancy plays a character that is simply handsome and English, nothing more and nothing less. Sweet cameos by Joan Cusack and John Goodman as Rebecca’s parents cannot save this film from its own low expectations.
P.J. Hogan has directed two of the best and most poignant romantic comedies of all time, Muriel’s Wedding and My Best Friend’s Wedding, but hasn’t really had a hit since. Confessions of a Shopaholic will probably not change the string of bad luck. The credit crunch has worn away everyone’s patience towards characters like Rebecca. She is now just an annoying, whining bint who should buck up her ideas and do without that darling little scarf or cute pair of heels. It’s people like her who got us in this mess in the first place.
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Review - The Wrestler
The professional wrestling circuit is not something that overly interests me. My younger brother went through an unfortunate WWF (or WWE as it now must be called) stage which I weathered, and I’ve watched Louis Theroux have a go on one of his Weird Weekends, but otherwise I’ve steered well clear. The Wrestler confirmed my suspicion that the ‘sport’ is full of sad and lonely men pumped full of steroids, playing to a crowd of men stuck in adolescence.
Of course, sad and lonely men pumped full of steroids are fascinating to watch. Shot in a grainy, shaky style, this film looks exactly like one of the brilliant Storyville documentaries on BBC2 and BBC4. You know, those high-quality and horribly depressing looks at an individual’s strange existence.
This high-quality and horribly depressing fictional film follows Randy “The Ram” Robinson, a wrestler who achieved a certain level of fame in the late 80s and has been plugging away ever since, appearing at smaller and smaller venues until he is living alone in a trailer in New Jersey and working at the grimiest supermarket this side of the Iron Curtain. Estranged from his daughter and with his ravaged body failing, he tries to find his place in the real world away from spandex.
Randy is played by Mickey Rourke, whose own loss of fame and boxing career mirrors that of his character. He too was broken, forgotten about and disfigured, messing up his life with his own bloody-mindedness. Randy’s comeback is Rourke’s comeback, and both give it all they have.
Rourke’s is certainly a success. His performance is the film, as there isn’t much else here in this simple tale. The worry is that he won’t be able to follow it up, because he can only play washed up wrestlers or thugs drawn by Frank Miller. It’s a narrow niche.
Of course, sad and lonely men pumped full of steroids are fascinating to watch. Shot in a grainy, shaky style, this film looks exactly like one of the brilliant Storyville documentaries on BBC2 and BBC4. You know, those high-quality and horribly depressing looks at an individual’s strange existence.
This high-quality and horribly depressing fictional film follows Randy “The Ram” Robinson, a wrestler who achieved a certain level of fame in the late 80s and has been plugging away ever since, appearing at smaller and smaller venues until he is living alone in a trailer in New Jersey and working at the grimiest supermarket this side of the Iron Curtain. Estranged from his daughter and with his ravaged body failing, he tries to find his place in the real world away from spandex.
Randy is played by Mickey Rourke, whose own loss of fame and boxing career mirrors that of his character. He too was broken, forgotten about and disfigured, messing up his life with his own bloody-mindedness. Randy’s comeback is Rourke’s comeback, and both give it all they have.
Rourke’s is certainly a success. His performance is the film, as there isn’t much else here in this simple tale. The worry is that he won’t be able to follow it up, because he can only play washed up wrestlers or thugs drawn by Frank Miller. It’s a narrow niche.
Review - Seven Pounds
Will Smith is everyone’s favourite Bel Air-dwelling, alien-killing, wise-cracking Man in Black. Seeing him down and sombre can be a very disconcerting experience for a viewer. In Seven Pounds, his character is not a happy bunny. He is moody, introverted, secretive and sometimes cruel. Add a languid pace and a blindingly obvious twist, and you have a recipe for an equally moody audience. Only fans of weepy dramas need apply.
Luckily, I do fall at least somewhat into that category and I found many things to like about this tale of grief, guilt and redemption. Ben Thomas (Smith) is a tax investigator with a secret plan to help seven strangers. The ‘how’ and ‘why’ parts of his plan are not made clear, leading to a very confusing opening act. Things should fall into place quite rapidly after that for most observant viewers.
The film’s focus then falls on his relationship with one of the strangers, Emily (Rosario Dawson). Whether or not you enjoy the rest of the film depends on whether you find her annoying or not. She is the stereotypical dying girl with a failing heart of gold, cute dog and quirky taste in music, but I somehow ended up caring about her plight. This is wholly down to Ms Dawson and her electric smile; she continues to impress me in every film I see her in.
Smith without his charisma is a hard sell, and Seven Pounds’ quietly moving moments may not be enough to counteract that. The bottom line: wait for the DVD and a night you feel a bit miserable and want to wallow in it.
Luckily, I do fall at least somewhat into that category and I found many things to like about this tale of grief, guilt and redemption. Ben Thomas (Smith) is a tax investigator with a secret plan to help seven strangers. The ‘how’ and ‘why’ parts of his plan are not made clear, leading to a very confusing opening act. Things should fall into place quite rapidly after that for most observant viewers.
The film’s focus then falls on his relationship with one of the strangers, Emily (Rosario Dawson). Whether or not you enjoy the rest of the film depends on whether you find her annoying or not. She is the stereotypical dying girl with a failing heart of gold, cute dog and quirky taste in music, but I somehow ended up caring about her plight. This is wholly down to Ms Dawson and her electric smile; she continues to impress me in every film I see her in.
Smith without his charisma is a hard sell, and Seven Pounds’ quietly moving moments may not be enough to counteract that. The bottom line: wait for the DVD and a night you feel a bit miserable and want to wallow in it.
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Review - Milk
There are some moments in history when social and geographical forces come together to produce a movement that fascinates long after it has past. I’m talking about the black Civil Rights Movement in the South or Swinging London. These are so fixed in our collective pop culture brain that the story of anyone caught up in events will usually make an interesting basis for a film. San Francisco had two of these moments in a row. In the 60s, the hippies flooded in and Haight-Ashbury became the world centre of being free. In the 70s, the gay community asserted itself and built a public identity in the Castro district.
Plenty of films have been made about the first moment (indeed, plenty were made at the time), but not many deal with the second one. Milk makes up for that by telling the story of the self-proclaimed ‘Mayor of Castro’ and the great hero of gay rights, Harvey Milk (Sean Penn). Charting his rise from 40-year-old drop out, to unsuccessful political candidate, to public office and to death, it gives a low-key but extremely poignant portrait of a man fighting for his cause despite the risks.
This almost documentary-style film paints a vivid and vibrant picture of life in the Castro, but also shows the level of prejudice surrounding its inhabitants. This is a community under siege from the police and politicians. It is amazing now to think of the laws that were passed across America in the 1970s legalising discrimination against gay people, and unbelievable that they were nearly passed in California. The danger feels very real, as we see the damage, both physical and mental, that living a lie can produce. The film is at its most effective when we see glimpses of those suffering in small towns, and it is these people that Milk wants to rescue.
Penn’s portrayal of Harvey is perfect, and he creates a living, breathing person. Lightly effeminate, funny (not something that seems to come naturally to the actor), angry, aching, it is about as far away from a caricature as you can get and certainly deserves its Oscar nomination. Milk is not simple hagiography, though. Harvey is not Ghandi or Martin Luther King; he fought back, happy to play the political game and scratch other people’s backs so his own could be scratched.
The people in the character’s orbit are all wonderfully played by people with singularly awful haircuts. As previously mentioned, every character featured here could make a good biopic. There’s activist Cleve Jones (a charismatic Emile Hirsch) who later founded the NAMES Aids quilt project, love of Harvey’s life Scott Smith (James Franco) and, of course, his bizarre murderer Dan White (an unsettling Josh Brolin).
The film does not overly tug at the heart strings, but rather the sadness and the hope seeps into you as you realise what one person can do, and how quickly bullets can stop everything. Milk is an inspirational insight into that one person, and into a part of history that few of us know about.
Plenty of films have been made about the first moment (indeed, plenty were made at the time), but not many deal with the second one. Milk makes up for that by telling the story of the self-proclaimed ‘Mayor of Castro’ and the great hero of gay rights, Harvey Milk (Sean Penn). Charting his rise from 40-year-old drop out, to unsuccessful political candidate, to public office and to death, it gives a low-key but extremely poignant portrait of a man fighting for his cause despite the risks.
This almost documentary-style film paints a vivid and vibrant picture of life in the Castro, but also shows the level of prejudice surrounding its inhabitants. This is a community under siege from the police and politicians. It is amazing now to think of the laws that were passed across America in the 1970s legalising discrimination against gay people, and unbelievable that they were nearly passed in California. The danger feels very real, as we see the damage, both physical and mental, that living a lie can produce. The film is at its most effective when we see glimpses of those suffering in small towns, and it is these people that Milk wants to rescue.
Penn’s portrayal of Harvey is perfect, and he creates a living, breathing person. Lightly effeminate, funny (not something that seems to come naturally to the actor), angry, aching, it is about as far away from a caricature as you can get and certainly deserves its Oscar nomination. Milk is not simple hagiography, though. Harvey is not Ghandi or Martin Luther King; he fought back, happy to play the political game and scratch other people’s backs so his own could be scratched.
The people in the character’s orbit are all wonderfully played by people with singularly awful haircuts. As previously mentioned, every character featured here could make a good biopic. There’s activist Cleve Jones (a charismatic Emile Hirsch) who later founded the NAMES Aids quilt project, love of Harvey’s life Scott Smith (James Franco) and, of course, his bizarre murderer Dan White (an unsettling Josh Brolin).
The film does not overly tug at the heart strings, but rather the sadness and the hope seeps into you as you realise what one person can do, and how quickly bullets can stop everything. Milk is an inspirational insight into that one person, and into a part of history that few of us know about.
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
Review - My Bloody Valentine 3D
Apparently, in the near future all horror films will be in 3D because digital technology has made it feasible and studios believe the method’s theme park thrills will get us to go to the cinema. Well, you better get used to feeling nauseous now.
My Bloody Valentine 3D is the first horror film to use the new ‘Real D’ technology, but is otherwise a run-of-the-mill slasher flick with the usual bad acting the genre attracts. A remake of a low-budget Canadian offering from 1981, the plot follows a deranged murderer stalking a town, ten years after he performed a similar massacre on Valentine’s Day and was killed for his trouble. The place is described as “a quiet, in-bred mining town”, but seems to be populated by beautiful babes and square-jawed lummoxes (I wouldn’t trust the local sheriff with the school hamster, never mind a decaying, blue-collar community).
Girls take off their tops and people get pick axes in their brains, which is reasonably fun but not remotely scary. The 3D is effective, especially with the depiction of dismembered bodies, making the film worth seeing for its novelty. You may have to rest your eyes every 20 minutes or so, but that’s the price of seeing the future.
My Bloody Valentine 3D is the first horror film to use the new ‘Real D’ technology, but is otherwise a run-of-the-mill slasher flick with the usual bad acting the genre attracts. A remake of a low-budget Canadian offering from 1981, the plot follows a deranged murderer stalking a town, ten years after he performed a similar massacre on Valentine’s Day and was killed for his trouble. The place is described as “a quiet, in-bred mining town”, but seems to be populated by beautiful babes and square-jawed lummoxes (I wouldn’t trust the local sheriff with the school hamster, never mind a decaying, blue-collar community).
Girls take off their tops and people get pick axes in their brains, which is reasonably fun but not remotely scary. The 3D is effective, especially with the depiction of dismembered bodies, making the film worth seeing for its novelty. You may have to rest your eyes every 20 minutes or so, but that’s the price of seeing the future.
Review - Role Models
Apparently Christopher Mintz-Plasse, he who will forever be known as McLovin from Superbad, was reluctant to appear in this film because he didn’t want to be type cast as a geek. If this is the case, I say for shame! The world needs his nerd powers to make us happy, especially with all the bad stuff going on in the world. In Role Models he again manages to outshine everyone else by playing someone even more dorkish than McLovin.
The film follows miserablist Danny (Paul Rudd) and overgrown frat boy Wheeler (Seann William Scott) as they are sentenced to mentor two troubled children as part of their community service (or ‘community payback’ as the Labour Party has dubbed it) after Danny loses his temper with some tow truck drivers. Danny has to look after Augie (Mintz-Plasse), an introverted teenager who loves live action role playing (LARP) games in which you go into the woods and pretend to be a knight. Wheeler gets Ronnie (Bobb’e J. Thompson), a little boy who is big trouble.
The concept of the film (loser adults out of their depth when looking after kids) has been done to death, but there are genuinely funny moments throughout, dispelling any memories of Daddy Day Care and Three Men and a Baby. There are odd things in the mix – like Jane Lynch (who will always be the poodle owner in Best in Show to me) as the perky and foul-mouthed ex-addict who runs the volunteer programme, and the insight into the strange world of LARP – that keeps one’s interest up. Nothing earth-shattering, then. But there are 99 minutes of silly, McLovin-filled laughs up for grabs.
The film follows miserablist Danny (Paul Rudd) and overgrown frat boy Wheeler (Seann William Scott) as they are sentenced to mentor two troubled children as part of their community service (or ‘community payback’ as the Labour Party has dubbed it) after Danny loses his temper with some tow truck drivers. Danny has to look after Augie (Mintz-Plasse), an introverted teenager who loves live action role playing (LARP) games in which you go into the woods and pretend to be a knight. Wheeler gets Ronnie (Bobb’e J. Thompson), a little boy who is big trouble.
The concept of the film (loser adults out of their depth when looking after kids) has been done to death, but there are genuinely funny moments throughout, dispelling any memories of Daddy Day Care and Three Men and a Baby. There are odd things in the mix – like Jane Lynch (who will always be the poodle owner in Best in Show to me) as the perky and foul-mouthed ex-addict who runs the volunteer programme, and the insight into the strange world of LARP – that keeps one’s interest up. Nothing earth-shattering, then. But there are 99 minutes of silly, McLovin-filled laughs up for grabs.
Saturday, 24 January 2009
Review - Slumdog Millionaire
The tube is currently plastered with posters declaring Slumdog Millionaire ‘the feel-good comedy of the year’. As I sat there watching the opening scene, in which the film’s hero is strung up and electrocuted by Bombay’s police department, I wondered how much Prozac someone must be taking to feel good through this. Mamma Mia it ain’t.
Slumdog Millionaire tells the story of Jamal, who is one question away from winning the Indian equivalent of £1 million on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire (the film is made by Celador Films, the production company behind Millionaire). The police, however, do not see how a young man from the slums could possibly know the answers to all the questions. During interrogations, Jamal recounts his eventful life while explaining how he learnt each factoid required to win the game show.
The Dickensian living conditions and corruption, both monetary and moral, of modern India are the perfect backdrop for the Oliver Twist-like tale that our hero tells. Episodically flitting from scrape to scrape, Jamal and his brother live by their wits through tremendous odds. The whole thing is very upsetting (a boss of a child gang is featured who makes Fagin look like a Chuckle Brother), but the audience will always be cheering them on to succeed.
Danny Boyle directs with a lightness of touch and lack of trendiness that belies his wider filmography (which includes Trainspotting, Shallow Grave and the very disappointing Sunshine). While there are clues that this is a British film (all characters speak English after the age of 12, and the soundtrack features Radio 1 playlist fave MIA with her hit Paper Planes), the landscape and culture of India are the real stars here.
This puts the actors somewhat in the shade. The children are certainly adorable, and Dev Patel from Channel 4’s Skins has a quiet strength as the older Jamal and Freida Pinto, as love interest Latika, is the picture of girlish innocence. Unfortunately the characters they are playing are very one dimensional (Jamal is good, his brother Salim is a bad seed, Latika is beautiful). These are people reacting to their fate and creating a future despite of it, not tied up in introspection and angst.
At its heart, Slumdog Millionaire is a fairytale, and fairytales are often dark and scary places to be. The redemptive ending makes this, if not quite a ‘feel-good’ film, then maybe a ‘feel-slightly-buoyed-despite-your-knowledge-of-the-essentially-tragic-nature-of-life’ one. Which is something of an achievement.
Slumdog Millionaire tells the story of Jamal, who is one question away from winning the Indian equivalent of £1 million on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire (the film is made by Celador Films, the production company behind Millionaire). The police, however, do not see how a young man from the slums could possibly know the answers to all the questions. During interrogations, Jamal recounts his eventful life while explaining how he learnt each factoid required to win the game show.
The Dickensian living conditions and corruption, both monetary and moral, of modern India are the perfect backdrop for the Oliver Twist-like tale that our hero tells. Episodically flitting from scrape to scrape, Jamal and his brother live by their wits through tremendous odds. The whole thing is very upsetting (a boss of a child gang is featured who makes Fagin look like a Chuckle Brother), but the audience will always be cheering them on to succeed.
Danny Boyle directs with a lightness of touch and lack of trendiness that belies his wider filmography (which includes Trainspotting, Shallow Grave and the very disappointing Sunshine). While there are clues that this is a British film (all characters speak English after the age of 12, and the soundtrack features Radio 1 playlist fave MIA with her hit Paper Planes), the landscape and culture of India are the real stars here.
This puts the actors somewhat in the shade. The children are certainly adorable, and Dev Patel from Channel 4’s Skins has a quiet strength as the older Jamal and Freida Pinto, as love interest Latika, is the picture of girlish innocence. Unfortunately the characters they are playing are very one dimensional (Jamal is good, his brother Salim is a bad seed, Latika is beautiful). These are people reacting to their fate and creating a future despite of it, not tied up in introspection and angst.
At its heart, Slumdog Millionaire is a fairytale, and fairytales are often dark and scary places to be. The redemptive ending makes this, if not quite a ‘feel-good’ film, then maybe a ‘feel-slightly-buoyed-despite-your-knowledge-of-the-essentially-tragic-nature-of-life’ one. Which is something of an achievement.
Sunday, 18 January 2009
Review - The Spirit
I love comics, but, and it may be deeply unfashionable to say this, I’m not a big fan of Frank Miller. I have no emotional connection to the material when reading his stuff. When his work is adapted for the screen (as with Sin City and 300), it is visually audacious and astounding and I revel in its coolness, but it still seems impossible for me to love it.
The Spirit is Miller’s lone directorial debut (he co-directed Sin City with Robert Rodriguez), based on the seminal comics by Will Eisner that have been so influential to him. Despite his obvious love of the source material, he has come up with a very flat film. While the green screen-produced visuals are cool, they are just a bad replica of Sin City’s. The script is full of arch phrases and flowery rhetoric. It is supposed to be a post-modern take on 40s noir, but is just boring.
The story, as much as it is, follows the titular masked avenger as he battles a crime lord called The Octopus (Samuel L. Jackson) in a run-down city. This proto-Batman has a semi-mysterious background, but by the time you find out what it is, you will have ceased caring.
The Spirit is played by Gabriel Macht, who has the unfortunate trait of looking like a dozen other actors rather than looking like himself. He just doesn’t have the charisma to pull the film off. So often in superhero films a great villain can save the day for the audience, but Jackson’s bellowing, scene-chewing performance is just high camp, and not in a good way. Add in a cold and stilted Scarlett Johansson and you have a serious Hollywood misfire. Only Eva Mendes comes off unscathed with a super-sexy turn as The Spirit’s old flame, Sand Serif. She even manages to squeeze a bit of empathy and emotion into the role.
If you really enjoy seeing the world in black, white and red, then go and see it. If not, then The Spirit is best avoided.
The Spirit is Miller’s lone directorial debut (he co-directed Sin City with Robert Rodriguez), based on the seminal comics by Will Eisner that have been so influential to him. Despite his obvious love of the source material, he has come up with a very flat film. While the green screen-produced visuals are cool, they are just a bad replica of Sin City’s. The script is full of arch phrases and flowery rhetoric. It is supposed to be a post-modern take on 40s noir, but is just boring.
The story, as much as it is, follows the titular masked avenger as he battles a crime lord called The Octopus (Samuel L. Jackson) in a run-down city. This proto-Batman has a semi-mysterious background, but by the time you find out what it is, you will have ceased caring.
The Spirit is played by Gabriel Macht, who has the unfortunate trait of looking like a dozen other actors rather than looking like himself. He just doesn’t have the charisma to pull the film off. So often in superhero films a great villain can save the day for the audience, but Jackson’s bellowing, scene-chewing performance is just high camp, and not in a good way. Add in a cold and stilted Scarlett Johansson and you have a serious Hollywood misfire. Only Eva Mendes comes off unscathed with a super-sexy turn as The Spirit’s old flame, Sand Serif. She even manages to squeeze a bit of empathy and emotion into the role.
If you really enjoy seeing the world in black, white and red, then go and see it. If not, then The Spirit is best avoided.
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Review - Inkheart
At the beginning of Inkheart the narrator states that there are people called Silvertongues who have the power to draw out characters from a book into the real world, just by reading aloud. With all the amazing adventures that have been written in human history, it is surprising that a family fantasy based on this premise could be quite so dull.
Meggie (Eliza Bennett) has travelled from place to place with her father Mortimer (Brendan Fraser) since her mother’s disappearance some years ago. One day, mysterious strangers appear wanting to capture Mortimer and a rare book he has found called Inkheart. Meggie learns that her father is a Silvertongue, and characters he pulled from the book want to use his powers.
The primary problem with the film is that it is confusing, never fully realising its universe and the rules which govern it and leaving no room for a sense of magic. The secondary problem is that the book from which all these evil-doers have appeared, Inkheart, seems to be a third-rate fantasy for Renaissance Fair-goers. The tertiary problem is that the whole thing takes place in a Switzerland where no one speaks German, and an Italy where no one speaks Italian. A writer living in Italy with an Italian name turns out to be played by Jim Broadbent, with not even a hint of a Captain Bertorelli-style accent. Everyone in this Europe is cosily British, which is unfortunately not the case.
Brendan Fraser tries his best, but is let down by the material. Bennett plays Meggie as a nice and intelligent young lady, and does so convincingly but never sparkles. Even the lovely Helen Mirren, Paul Bettany and Super Hans off Peep Show cannot lift this piece. Young children may find it diverting and parents may appreciate its message that books are exciting, but otherwise this is a half-baked adventure.
Meggie (Eliza Bennett) has travelled from place to place with her father Mortimer (Brendan Fraser) since her mother’s disappearance some years ago. One day, mysterious strangers appear wanting to capture Mortimer and a rare book he has found called Inkheart. Meggie learns that her father is a Silvertongue, and characters he pulled from the book want to use his powers.
The primary problem with the film is that it is confusing, never fully realising its universe and the rules which govern it and leaving no room for a sense of magic. The secondary problem is that the book from which all these evil-doers have appeared, Inkheart, seems to be a third-rate fantasy for Renaissance Fair-goers. The tertiary problem is that the whole thing takes place in a Switzerland where no one speaks German, and an Italy where no one speaks Italian. A writer living in Italy with an Italian name turns out to be played by Jim Broadbent, with not even a hint of a Captain Bertorelli-style accent. Everyone in this Europe is cosily British, which is unfortunately not the case.
Brendan Fraser tries his best, but is let down by the material. Bennett plays Meggie as a nice and intelligent young lady, and does so convincingly but never sparkles. Even the lovely Helen Mirren, Paul Bettany and Super Hans off Peep Show cannot lift this piece. Young children may find it diverting and parents may appreciate its message that books are exciting, but otherwise this is a half-baked adventure.
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