Film review - We Need To Talk About Kevin

What with me not being very well read (particularly when it comes to contemporary fiction), I am rarely in the position of already knowing the source material when seeing a film. So it was a novelty for me to go into this screening with my own preconceived ideas about the story. It was also a blessing, as I don’t think I would have understood what was going on if I hadn’t already read the novel.

This adaptation of Lionel Shriver’s chilling bestseller follows Eva (Tilda Swinton) in the aftermath of a terrible event involving her teenage son Kevin (Ezra Miller). As Eva remembers her life since Kevin’s birth, it becomes clear that there was always something different about the boy which her husband (John C. Reilly) just refuses to see.

The film is dream-like to the point of meaninglessness. Whereas in the book, Eva (as narrator) explains everything in immense detail, here we are given only disjointed snapshots of events as we flit back and forth in the story. The resonance of each small moment – of all the insidious things Kevin does – is completely lost. The opening half an hour in particular is a mess, and barely held my attention. If I didn’t have previous experience of the story, I doubt it would have made any sense.

The film cuts out all of the background information about Eva and her husband, leaving them as blank characters with unclear motivations, going through a much simpler and less ambiguous story. Although Eva comes across as very cold in the book, she is extremely frosty here. Having Swinton (not the warm and fuzziest of actresses we can all agree) really adds to this.

British director Lynne Ramsey has taken an intelligent novel with mass appeal and turned it into the arty-est of art house films. While certainly a 'quality' picture with style, a creepy aesthetic and powerful performances, it is not a patch on the book.

Like Shame, I note that this is another British film set in America, again part-funded by the UK Film Council. I do find it strange that tax payers’ money is being spent on adaptations of American bestsellers, but there you go.

London Film Festival Review – Magic Trip: Ken Kesey’s Search for a Kool Place

The Merry Pranksters’ journey across America in 1964 is the stuff of legend. Led by Ken Kesey, the respected author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and advocate for LSD, the group painted a school bus in rainbow colours, named it ‘Further’ and headed for New York. They aimed to change the world, and amazingly these misfits managed to. The counter culture of the 60s had begun.

Sure that what they were doing was seminal, they decided to film themselves. Unfortunately, they were tripping so much during their trip that they didn’t bother to learn how to use the camera or sound equipment, leaving the resulting footage unusable. This documentary is the result of years of painstaking work to correct their mistakes, sync up the sound and edit together something coherent. It’s a strange documentary – not quite the film they wanted to make at the time and not quite a full retrospective analysis of why the events were important.

Certainly it is very interesting to see the journey in colour, and hear from the people involved, even if most of it isn’t exactly riveting. The group were an odd bunch, the oddest by far being Neal Cassady, otherwise known as Dean Moriarty from On The Road. The whole enterprise was a homage to Kerouac, and having Neal on board was a living link to that past. As anyone who has read On The Road will testify, Cassady was never the most stable of souls. That the Pranksters let this speed freak drive the bus shows that they weren’t exactly in their right minds.

The film cuts back and forth across time, showing how the clean-cut college boy Kesey ended up leading the acid movement. In one of the most fascinating sequences, we hear the actual recording of his first ever acid trip, part of the CIA’s LSD experiments. We also see snapshots of life after the bus trip and his eventual disillusion with the movement he kick-started.

For those interested in the period, this is essential viewing. For those who are not in the know, this is likely to be a confusing watch.

N.B. A little niggle I had watching the film – why did they use the font Comic Sans for the subtitles? I’m sure it’s because they wanted to keep the film non-serious to match up with the footage, but it just looks very unprofessional.

London Film Festival Review - Sarah Palin: You Betcha!

Nick Broomfield has explored the lives of many interesting people through his documentaries, most famously Eugene Terre’Blanche and Aileen Wuornos. In his latest film, he turns his camera towards Sarah Palin, the hockey mom that stormed onto the world stage in 2008 as John McCain’s running mate.  

The documentary follows Bromfield as he explores Sarah’s hometown of Wasilla, Alaska, in the dead of winter, hoping to interview the lady herself. Although he spends much of his time slipping on the ice while holding a boom mike, he manages to meet lots of interesting people and finds out about her childhood and rise to power – first as Wasilla’s mayor, then as Alaskan Governor. As it turns out, few of the people who will talk to him are still on speaking terms with Palin. He does, however, meet her parents, who seem very nice. They are a little concerned that he might be making a “hit piece”, though.

They are right to be concerned, because of course Broomfield is not a supporter of Sarah. The film paints a picture of a vindictive, two-faced woman with bizarre religious views who uses people only to drop them like a hot potato once they’ve outlived their usefulness. Unsurprisingly, he never gets his interview with Palin.  

While it is very interesting to see the people that have been left in the wake of the Palin Express, the point of this documentary may have been lost on me. I suppose the original idea was to expose her shortcomings so that her bid for the Republican nomination would be discredited. Unfortunately for the filmmakers (but fortunately for the world) she pulled out of the race shortly after the film was made, making this null and void. But even if she was still running it’s not like the crusading Nick Broomfield would have been a lone dissenting voice, or that anyone who supported her would have given two hoots about some British documentary.

What’s left is a portrait of Palin – a fascinating sociological phenomenon if ever there was one – and in that regard the film falls pretty short. For example, although it goes through her high school sports career in some detail, her relationship with her husband Todd is hardly mentioned. You don’t even find out when they got married, never mind the role he has played in her career (which is hinted at but never directly addressed). The most shocking omission, however, is that the strangest turn of events in Palin’s life isn’t explored – the sudden Republican Vice Presidential nomination in 2008. That error in judgement meant that what was Alaska’s problem became everyone’s problem. The only mention of it in the film reveals something very telling – that the usually long vetting process was cut down to just a few days by the GOP. Why on earth did they pick her?

The answer to that question is also the reason she is so fascinating, and therefore why Broomfield has made a documentary about her – because she is a woman, and a reasonably attractive one at that. The whole affair speaks volumes about America’s political climate, and her genuine popularity in some circles speaks volumes about America.

In hindsight, there was the opportunity here to film for slightly longer and do a real “rise and fall” piece, including all the good footage from Wasilla we see here. As it is, this is an out of date campaigning film, not detailed enough to give a deep exploration of the issues but jokey enough to be entertaining – even if it does take a lot of cheap shots to get a laugh.  

London Film Festival review - Shame

Steve McQueen’s second feature (following the critically acclaimed Hunger) is another bleak film. Shame follows Brandon (Michael Fassbender), a yuppie living in New York with a pristine, minimalist apartment and the world at his feet. Unfortunately, Brandon is a sex addict, and spends every spare moment watching porn on the internet, engaging prostitutes or pleasuring himself in his office toilet. You see, underneath the cool exterior, he isn’t a very happy bunny.  

Into this cloud of self-loathing walks his little sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan), a fragile and slightly zany singer. Brandon is extremely shaken by her presence and the cracks in his carefully carved persona begin to show.

McQueen has crafted a film which completely complements its protagonist – beautiful to look at but sordid and ultimately empty inside. This is a mood piece rather than about story. Not very much happens, it’s not clear what that is, and it takes a long time to get there.

What you get on the way is some absolutely beautiful photography of a gritty and glamorous city. Shots are long, lingering and often not contextualised. The film is very “provocative”, but not dirty. Yes you do see a lot of Michael Fassbender naked, but the sex here is not about audience titillation – it’s about the emotional mess inside Brandon. The score by Harry Escott is wonderfully, sadly dark, and complemented by some great disco tracks which punctuate the story.

However exquisitely crafted, Shame does begin to drag by the end. The trouble is that the characters do not hold your attention. Brandon is a blank slate and Sissy is just annoying. Fassbender and Mulligan do give convincing performances, but there is little in the script to make you care about either of them.

Another concern I have with the film is that it is set in New York. The director is British, the screenwriters are British, the lead actress is British, and the funding is British (it was even partly financed by the UK Film Council).  Why isn’t it set in London? Michael Fassbender could surely have played an Englishman as convincingly as he played an American (and they had to give Brandon an Irish back story to explain his slightly odd accent). Is it just to reach a wider audience? Perhaps our class system limits us to only accepting middle class versions of London through the eyes of Richard Curtis. Can “gritty” British films only be set on council estates? It would have been interesting to see London portrayed in a new way on screen, but that opportunity has been lost.

As it is, set in New York, Shame is a dark art film which asks few questions and gives even fewer answers. Depressing but not satisfyingly so.

London Film Festival review - 50/50

Films about cancer aren’t usually much fun. And they are certainly never funny. 50/50 is something no-one ever expected to see and perhaps never wanted to – a cancer comedy. It’s also one of the best films of the year.

Adam (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a health-conscious 27-year-old who suddenly receives a spinal cancer diagnosis. Everyone in his life reacts differently to the news. His best friend (Seth Rogan) urges him to use his newly found pity power to pick up chicks, his already emotionally distant girlfriend (Bryce Dallas Howard) becomes even more flaky, and his mother (Angelica Houston) desperately wants to take care of him. Adam himself is not sure how to deal with the situation, but knows that no-one’s strategy is helping. He is none-the-wiser after meeting with the hospital’s newest therapist (Anna Kendrick), a doctoral student who has read a lot of books but hasn’t quite got the knack of the therapeutic relationship.

Of course, as Adam goes through chemotherapy he starts to reassess his life and discovers what and who is important. This doesn’t happen in the usual sappy, soppy way we’re used to, but in a way that feels authentic. Humour is used as a defence mechanism just as in real life, and the surreal aspects of the disease, treatment and other people’s reactions produce some very funny moments. The authentic feel is not surprising – screenwriter Will Reiser based it on his own experiences of going through cancer with the help of his best friend Seth Rogan.

A great screenplay is elevated further by wonderful performances.  Joseph Gordon Levitt plays Adam in a very understated way, and is quietly outstanding.  Everything is going on inside the character but still shines through in a very naturalistic way. Seth Rogan is very funny as always, and Anna Kendrick, who so impressed in Up In the Air, gives an equally great performance here showing she can do comedy extremely well. Angelica Houston is excellent as the overbearing mother too.

The director Jonathan Levine has captured all this on film with a lovely little indie aesthetic. A rainy Seattle location and some perfectly chosen music really complement the story.

50/50 isn’t about someone bravely overcoming adversity, but about someone who suffers through some very scary times and learns a bit about other people and himself along the way. Treading the line between hilarious and heartbreaking beautifully, it is poignant but never sentimental.

Film review - Red State

As a mega mental fan of Kevin Smith’s View Askewniverse films, seeing Red State is a strange experience. It goes without saying that this is unlike any film he’s made before, but in many ways it is unlike any film anyone has made before.

The story begins with three desperate teenage boys answering an online ad by a woman willing to have a four-way. After some awkward small talk with the lady (Melissa Leo) and some drugged beers, they awake to find themselves held captive by a bizarre church which wants to punish them for their sins.

So far, so Hostel. But this isn’t another torture porn film per se, firstly because the violence isn’t the film’s raison d’être, and secondly because it soon becomes clear that no horror clichés will help you anticipate the plot. You see, this is a satirical message film about the loony Christian right, inspired by the kind of congregations that want to burn other people’s holy books just for the publicity – the kind of people who get followed around by Louis Theroux.

Melissa Leo enraptured

In this case, the church is led by Abin Cooper (Tarantino fave Michael Parks), a snarling, sneering, singing, sermon-ing (that should be a word) patriarch who has been holed up in the woods his whole life and doesn’t take kindly to our modern ways. He and his family believe we are reaching the end times. So when the Feds come calling (led by John Goodman), they are happy to pull a Waco and go to glory in a hail of bullets.

Red State’s genre shifting and strange plot trajectory make it an engrossing watch. The great performances help – Parks is a believable and charismatic monster, Leo is wonderfully stoic and creepy, and Goodman is at his deadpan best as a sad-sack ATF agent. Perhaps most impressive and surprising is Kerry Bishé as Cheyenne, the eldest of Abin’s grandchildren. Last seen in the ill-fated final series of Scrubs, Bishé is just radiant on screen. Confusion, fear and determination are alive in her eyes.

The violence is relentless but not over-the-top. Like the whole of the film, it is very 70s in aesthetic – lots of red blood on brown backgrounds. Photographed by long time collaborator David Klein, it really is Smith’s best looking film to date.

The writing confirms what all his fans know but which might have escaped some critics: Kevin Smith can be serious when he wants to be. But not for very long, as funny moments keep popping up Unsurprisingly the humour is a lot darker than in his other films – think The Wire rather than Walt Flanagan. Although there could have been some trimming (the sermon scene definitely goes on too long), this is interesting, thoughtful work.

Smith has stated that this will be his penultimate film, which is a shame. Worn down by the battering he received for Jersey Girl (a sweet film which was the victim of circumstance – though not a patch on the similarly themed Jack and Sarah) and Cop Out (which was just bad), he’s going to concentrate on his internet radio business and whatever else takes his fancy. With Red State he’s put these ghosts to bed and done himself proud, which I think was really the point.

Bad trailer alert - One Day

Anne Hathaway sure does a great job with that accent, don't cha think?

Bad trailer alert - Fright Night

Is this a comedy or a thriller? The marketing team can't make up its mind.

Film review - Super 8

Super 8 travels the satisfying “life lessons through adventure” path of Stand By Me and The Goonies. And while it might not quite live up to those classics, it is still a great kids’ film which is a little too scary for kids.

Joe (Joel Courtney), a troubled boy living in a small town is spending the summer holidays helping his best friend (Riley Griffiths) make a zombie short on the titular film stock. One night while filming with major crush Alice (Elle Fanning), the gang witnesses a horrific accident which is a lot more sinister than it first seems. As the military takes over the town and people begin to disappear, it is up to the friends to piece together the mystery and save the day.

Like Stand By Me, the film is set around 30 years before present. While this journey into the past is unnecessary, 1979 is obviously a year dripping with nostalgia for writer/director J.J. Abrams just as 1956 was for Stephen King. The main character is also recently bereaved and is distant from his father, like Gordie before him.

If the set up isn’t unique, the execution mostly makes up for it. By combining Abram’s knack for giant creatures (see Cloverfield) and characterisation (see Star Trek, but not Lost, which was dire) we get a, dare I say it, rollercoaster ride as the children come to the rescue. The performances are also great, particularly from Fanning who is just luminous on screen.

Sweet, funny and exciting, Super 8 is a well-told adventure that just falls short of amazing.        

Film review - Bridesmaids

When I saw the trailer for Bridesmaids, I thought it was just producer Judd Apatow’s answer to the accusations of mysogeny that followed Knocked Up. “Look, I can’t hate women – I’ve made a film showing them being just as stupid and gross as the men in my films.” Well, it’s so much more than that. The creation of SNL regular Kristen Wiig and Annie Mumolo, this is that rarest of things - a comedy about women that is genuinely hilarious and truthful.

The film follows Annie (Wiig), a single 30-something who is at a seriously low ebb. Her business has failed, she’s back to flat-sharing with randoms (including a strangely placed Matt Lucas), and she’s sleeping with a horrible hunk (the delicious Jon Hamm). When her best friend Lillian (Maya Rudolph) announces that she is getting married and wants her to be the maid of honour, Annie is forced to organise the wedding with a rag-tag group of bridesmaids, including alpha bitch Helen (Rose Byrne).

As the wedding plans and Annie’s sanity crumble, we are treated to some great set-pieces, including some classic gross-out moments. But there are lots of little exchanges that obviously stem from Wiig and Rudolph’s improvisational background which are even better.

The friendship between the two provides the main emotional story and feels very real. Perhaps the film could have been improved slightly by focusing more on that. The romance between Annie and the Irish cop (Chris O’Dowd from the IT Crowd) is totally adorable but a little too good to be true. Likewise the character of Megan (Melissa McCarthy), the oddest of the bridesmaids, is funny but feels forced – she’s too obviously a stand in for Zach Galifianakis in The Hangover.

Despite the distractions, this is a sweet, funny, uplifting and partially disgusting film which can be appreciated by more than just girls.

Film review - Submarine

All you need to know about the lovely Richard Ayoade’s debut feature is that if it had been American, the lead character would have been played by Michael Cera.

This coming of age film is mildly wacky, mildly funny, mildly moving, but extremely derivative. The only thing that differentiates it from 100 American indie films is that it is set in Wales.

Firstly, there’s Oliver (Craig Roberts) the main character – an intelligent but awkward teen trying to lose his virginity with a pretty, detached girl (Yasmin Paige). From this aspect the film reminds me most of 2009’s Youth in Revolt. As in that mess of a film, here the main character is extremely unlikeable.

Oliver spends most of his time staring wide-eyed at people, or in his room listening to French records and reading philosophy. This character is a fairly standard template in cinema, because lots of filmmakers liked listening to French records and reading philosophy in their teens, or at least like to think they did.

Oliver has an uncanny similarity to Bud Cort in the cult Harold and Maude, a film which taught Wes Anderson (and apparently in turn Ayoade) everything he knows. In Harold and Maude, the soundtrack was a collection of gently lilting songs made by Cat Stevens. In Submarine, Alex Turner from the hideous Arctic Monkeys picks up an acoustic guitar and has a go at being sensitive instead.

Of course, Oliver has troubles at home. His almost catatonic father (a mesmerising Noah Taylor) suffers from depression, and his mother (a much too young Sally Hawkins) has dowdy clothes and a bad haircut. Added to this, her old flame (Paddy Considine) has moved in next door. He’s a trendy twonk with a terrible mullet and a mid-Atlantic accent who works as a motivational speaker, offering people a chance to change their life through the power of light (so basically Patrick Swayze in Donnie Darko, then).

Just as coming of age films from the 70s were set in the 50s, so Submarine is set in the 80s. Not the real 80s, mind you, but the faux-80s of Napoleon Dynamite (basically today but without mobile phones). There aren’t any fun pop hits to set the scene, just a few odd outfits which wouldn’t seem out of place in any indie film set today. Annoyingly, one of the characters uses the phrase “it’s all good”, which would never have been said in Wales then.

Oliver walks around his depressing seaside town for most of the film – sometimes with the girl, sometimes thinking about the girl or his problem parents, but mostly thinking about himself. And maybe that’s the real problem. Oliver is selfish and doesn’t react how you would want him to react to the genuine dramas around him. If this was slightly wackier and played fully for laughs, maybe it would be ok, but it isn’t.

Submarine brings nothing new to the genre. It doesn’t innovate, and it certainly doesn’t impress. It’s nice that Ayoade was trying to make an interesting British film, but unfortunately he failed by simply copying the Americans.

Watch Harold and Maude instead.

Tearjerkers that don’t make me cry, but just make me angry

I love a good weepie. I can also appreciate some quite bad ones (give me a disease of the week TV movie any day of the week). But sometimes a film that is supposed to be moving makes me so angry that I want to scream. Instead of screaming, I’m going to list my top five terrible tearjerkers.

WARNING: This article contains serious spoilers. Also, because I dislike these films intensely, I refuse to watch them again to write this. Therefore my views will be coloured by the inaccuracy of memory.

Million Dollar Baby (2004)

Yes, I realise this won best picture, director, actress and supporting actor Oscars, but it is an incredibly stupid film. Here are my problems:

1. Morgan Freeman’s narration
Why? Because it’s a movie law that every film has to be narrated by Morgan Freeman, otherwise it isn’t a “quality” film. He’s hardly in it and his philosophical musings add nothing.

2. The main character’s goal is pointless
There isn’t any money in female boxing so why would it change her life?

3 The random Irish fetishism
When Hilary Swank fights in London, the audience starts chanting “Mo Cuishle”. Why the hell would an English audience know what that means in Gaelic? Oh, and by the way Clint, tartan clad pipers are Scottish, not Irish. There’s a difference.

She’s wearing green because he likes Irish things. 

4. Her parents
I know human beings are capable of immense cruelty, but really, are people that horrible to their own daughter? Even after such a terrible accident? Even if they are trailer trash? Don’t they have feelings? In my experience (watching Maury Povich) trailer trash folks have lots of feelings.

5. The final fight
In a championship fight, if your opponent throws an illegal punch, seriously injuring you, shouldn’t they be disqualified and you win by default? Yet she lies in the hospital bed angry that she never won anything.

6. The ending
Of course it is tragic, moving and upsetting, but it comes from nowhere. You might as well have the lead character in every film get paralysed from the neck down ten minutes before the end and then have to be euthanised by a paternal figure. Would that have made Pee-wee’s Big Adventure an artistic masterpiece?


21 Grams (2003)

Director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu likes to make films about lots of disparate characters all connected by a tragic event, and 21 Grams is no different. Here we have a woman whose family dies in a car crash (Naomi Watts), the man who killed them (Benicio Del Toro), and the man who receives a new heart from her dead husband (Sean Penn). Inarritu also likes to make films out of sequence, zipping back and forward in the timeline.

Cheer up, it might never happen. Oh yeah, it already did.

I love non-linear timelines as much as the next Tarantino fan, but is there any point when it is clear right from the beginning exactly what has happened and how these people relate to each other? There are exactly zero “ooooooo” moments in this film – no reveals, no surprises, just abject misery.

The whole thing seems to have been created to make the director and screenwriter feel clever. “Oh look,” they say, “I can cut up a story and rearrange it randomly even though it adds nothing to the audience experience.” Well done. You should feel proud.

All the characters are so dull that you don’t really care about how guilty they feel or whatever. But the truly terrible thing about this film is Charlotte Gainsbourg as the heart transplant recipient’s wife. I guess she’s supposed to be English, but as the actress is the product of the song Je t’aime, she has this bizarre, sing-songy mid-Channel accent that makes you want to slit your own throat.

For fans of nipples, there’s a lingering shot of Naomi Watts’s standing to attention, but otherwise this film has nothing to recommend it. Depressing, and not in a good way.


Dying Young (1991)

Firstly, this must have one of the worst titles in film history. It isn’t exactly dynamic, is it? You could at least expect it to be accurate, but no-one dies, young or old. You don’t even get the satisfaction of seeing the bastard with cancer snuff it.

This supposedly heart-warming tale centres on a spoilt brat with leukaemia (played with steely-eyed malice by Campbell Scott) and his “romance” with a beautiful girl from the wrong side of the tracks (a radiant Julia Roberts basking in post-Pretty Woman career glow). For “romance”, read “twisted, abusive relationship”. They meet when he puts an ad in the paper for a sexy nurse. Julia applies and gets the job because, although she has no experience, she has beautiful red locks and a hot bod.

As she cares for him through chemo, he proceeds to belittle her lack of culture by lecturing her on art history. He is studying the German expressionists, y’see, but shows her slides of works by Klimt and Rossetti – neither of whom were German nor expressionists – because they liked to paint naked redheads (I told you it was twisted).

Don’t do it Julia!

By putting her down and lying to her face, he somehow tricks her into falling in love with him and they then go away to a house by the sea. There Julia meets a lovely handyman (played by Vincent D’Onofrio) with whom she has lots in common. Campbell Scott doesn’t like this, so he throws a hissy fit and laughs in their faces about how they watched TV when growing up instead of doing cultural things like him (probably staring at more paintings of naked redheads).

For some reason, the screenwriter and director think you should like Scott’s character, though all he does is whine and be mean to Julia. When they decide to try and fight his disease together at the end, you really are disappointed. Originally he was supposed to die and she ended up with the handyman, but the test audiences hated it so it was changed.

Thanks, Hollywood. Thanks a lot.    


Jerry Maguire (1996)

They lost me at “show me the money”.

I know, Tom. What does it mean? And why do you have to keep shouting it?

Rudy (1993)

Most English people will not have heard of Rudy. It is, however, on the official list of “films it is ok for American men to cry at” – a list which I believe also contains Brian’s Song and Field of Dreams. These are all about American sports, y’see, and crying isn’t gay if it’s about sport.

Anyway, Rudy tells the true story of Daniel “Rudy” Ruettiger (Sean Astin – otherwise known as Samwise Gamgee), who has always dreamed of playing for Notre Dame (pronounced “noder dayme”) College’s football team. However, he’s short, not very good at football and doesn’t have the money or brains for college.

Rudy - he may be small but he dreams big.

Most people would leave it at that and get on with their lives, but not Rudy. He’s going to achieve his dream, no matter what it takes. So he goes to junior college and works really, really hard, improving his grades enough to go to Notre Dame for one final semester. All the while he volunteers to mow the grass and to be a “tackling dummy” for the football team – anything to be close to them.

After having to sleep in the locker room because he has nowhere else to go and badgering the coach for literally years, Rudy finally gets a chance to play.

For two minutes.

The film culminates in him playing right at the end of an actual game, and he manages one tackle. And that’s it. That’s what he’s wasted the prime years of his life for. He doesn’t even win the game for the team or anything, just does one tackle after the game’s already won!

Just because you have a dream, it doesn’t mean that it can, will or even should come true. There should be more films with that message, rather than lionising people who do things as pointless as Rudy Ruettiger.

Film review - The King's Speech

This classy telling of a previously little-known story from royal history is a funny and moving film. Small scale, quick paced, yet conversation heavy, director Tom Hooper carries you to a very nice crescendo.  

Colin Firth plays Bertie, Duke of York and future George VI – a man who truly had greatness thrust upon him. As his brother Edward sees more and more of Mrs Simpson, Bertie has to make more public appearances and the stutter that has plagued his life becomes an issue of national importance. Having seen every expert in London, his wife (Helena Bonham Carter) suggests he tries the unconventional speech therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush).

After some false starts and voice training montages, the therapy begins to work and we find out more about both Bertie and Lionel. This is where the film shines as Firth and Rush spar and then show their true feelings.

Although Firth bears little resemblance to the real Bertie, he’s got the double speech impediment of stutter and rhotacism down pat. The character is often rude and stubborn, but you always get the sense that he’s just hurting inside thanks to Firth’s sensitive performance. Geoffrey Rush is even better as Lionel. His methods may be slightly unconventional for the time, but  he isn’t your normal wacky, inspirational teacher in the Robin Williams mould – he is calm and witty, eclipsing the prince with his dignified air despite his lowly upbringing.

The supporting cast is very good – Bonham Carter is curt and efficient as the future Queen Mum, Guy Pearce makes a cruel Edward VIII and it is lovely to see Ramona Marquez from Outnumbered as the young Princess Margaret. There’s a weird moment for fans of that wet shirt where Jennifery Ehle (playing Lionel’s wife) shares the screen with Firth – Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy are briefly reunited.

Real life is rarely very neat and doesn’t build to many moving crescendos, so obviously the screenwriter has taken liberties with the story. Also, the stakes really weren’t as high as is made out (imagine what would have happened if it was Churchill who had the speech problem). King George inspired people by the deed of staying in London during the Blitz more than through words even after a cure, so really this is about a personal victory.

The King’s Speech is a simple tale, well told, and is incredibly, incredibly nice. Not great, but definitely nice – and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Film review - Black Swan

Darren Aronofsky’s follow up to The Wrestler is set in a very different world – we’ve moved from the amateur wrestling ring in Nowheresville to the New York City Ballet Company. Black Swan is another portrait of a troubled soul, though. A very, very troubled soul. A completely demented soul. This psychological thriller may be far too loopy, but it is gripping none the less.

Nina (Natalie Portman) is a sweet, quiet and dedicated member of the corps de ballet waiting for her chance to shine. The company’s director (Vincent Cassel) wants to cast someone new as the Swan Queen in his production of Swan Lake, but he tells Nina that she doesn’t have the darkness and nastiness needed to play this dual role of the white and black swan. After she shows him her feisty side, he gives her the part. However, things begin to unravel for Nina as the pressure and the need to express her dark side become too much.

The descent into madness is at first intriguing, then revolting, but ultimately laughable. Body horror is not my favourite thing, and there is much tearing of fingernails and ripping of skin here. One can’t help thinking that it would have been a better film had she been slightly less psychotic and things weren’t taken so far.  

Aronofsky has chosen to film the whole thing as he did The Wrestler – in shaky cam style following the lead character around. On the one hand this seems a very odd choice for a film about a majestic art form like ballet (you don’t really get a true sense of the dancing because the shots are always so claustrophobic), but on the other hand it does mean you get to see a lot of what is best about the film – Natalie Portman. Not only is she vulnerable, childlike, hysterical and sensual by turns, she also does most of her own dancing. Her performance is a tour de force and deserves an Oscar.

Barbara Hershey is also excellent as Nina’s terrifying mother, Erica. There are few characters as nutty as Nina in film history, but Erica comes close, and is creepy as hell to boot. Mila Kunis displays her natural charm as Lily, a rival dancer seen as a threat by Nina. Only Winona Ryder seems out of place somehow as a principal dancer past her prime.

If the cinematography isn’t really to my tastes, then the set design made up for this. The liberal use of black and white in most scenes does labour the metaphor a bit (one that is also repeated in costume choices), but it gives the film an unusual and stylish look. Even in Nina’s über-pink bedroom there is a black swan soft toy among the pink fluffy bunnies.

Black Swan is an extremely dramatic film, and will not be to everyone’s tastes. If you let the drama transport you, you may be carried along to the finale. But if you stop to think, you may realise how silly it all is and exit stage left.  

Review - The Tourist

What do you call a thriller that isn’t thrilling?

The Tourist.

This remake of the French film Anthony Zimmer is meant to be frothy, star-filled fun with a bit of action thrown in, but instead it manages to make time move very slowly for everyone unfortunate enough to be watching.

Lingering shots of Angelina Jolie swanning around various European cities dressed in cream take up most of the screen time. She plays Elise, a femme fatale without a hint of danger or competence but with a dodgy English accent. Elise’s lover is some sort of master thief on the run, and the police have her staked out in case they meet up again.

After what feels like an hour, she picks mild-mannered American Frank Tupelo (Johnny Depp) – a grieving non-entity with decidedly odd hair for a teacher from the Mid West – to be her decoy on the train to Venice. Frank is now in danger because everyone thinks he’s the master thief.

So far, so Hitchcock. But unlike North by Northwest, the film is all McGuffin and no meat. So what if Frank is in danger? The camera’s still focusing on Elise’s neat shift-dress-and-shawl ensemble. Where’s the tension? The laughs? The action? The only light point in the film is when the oh-so-demure Elise orders a scampi and champagne risotto in a posh restaurant, but it wasn’t meant to be a joke.

Director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s last film was the awards magnet The Lives of Others, so it is both surprising that he’d work on this kind of material, and that he’d make such a hash of it.

Jolie and Depp are two of the biggest stars on the planet, but have no chemistry. It feels like Depp, in particular, is phoning in his performance – fair enough, the script gives him nothing to work with, but he how can the man who played Ed Wood have so little character and charisma? A largely British supporting cast is also wasted, including Paul Bettany and Rufus Sewell.

A Hollywood thriller-by-numbers which doesn’t add up, The Tourist is pretty moving wallpaper and a great cure for insomnia.