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.

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.

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.

Film Review - Four Christmases

Christmas has long offered fertile material for film makers. Every year, Hollywood produces a raft of sleigh-belled, Santa-hatted fare for our delectation, and often the forced jollity of it all fails to entice us.

Last year’s disappointing Fred Claus was a case in point, so it is surprising that its star Vince Vaughn decided to go with another festive film so soon. Four Christmases, however, exceeds expectations by being that rare thing: a Christmas comedy that is genuinely funny.

Brad (Vaughn) and Kate (Reese Witherspoon) love each other very much, but hate to spend Christmas with their families (as Brad puts it, you can’t spell ‘families’ without ‘lies’). Every year since these yuppies met, they’ve gone on a fabulous holiday to avoid traipsing between the four households of their divorced parents. But when all flights are grounded on Christmas Day, they have to do their duty and visit their loved ones.

The couple progress from one parent to the next, each prone to causing major embarrassment and physical injuries to their offspring. There’s Brad’s redneck father and wrestling brothers, his hippy mother and her toy boy, and Kate’s born-again mum. Brad and Kate are confronted with everything they hate about their pasts, but end up seeing what they are missing from their future in a series of very sweet moments that intercut the slapstick.

What really lift this up from your usual romantic comedy mush are the performances. Vaughn and Witherspoon are very convincing as a couple, despite the height difference (they look like they’ve been drawn to different scales), and the parents are all played by Oscar winners (Jon Voight, Robert Duvall, Sissy Spacek and Mary Steenburgen).

Much of the script was improvised by the actors, and this is where Vince Vaughn really excels, churning out pop culture references and barbs with his cuddly charm. Witherspoon shows the comic timing that gained her so many fans in Legally Blonde and delivers the more serious scenes beautifully.

The director, Seth Gordon, has only one other feature under his belt, the cult documentary King of Kong about obsessive video game players. Four Christmases seems like an odd follow up, but it does touch on a real and universal theme: our families might drive us crazy, but we need them.

We may also need this gentle and hilarious reminder when we are struggling to stay sane in December.

Zack and Miri Make a Porno

For Kevin Smith fans, Zack and Miri Make a Porno was a slightly worrying prospect. It’s not set in the same filmic universe as most of Kevin Smith’s films (you can tell this because it’s not set in New Jersey, and Jeff Anderson’s character isn’t called Randal). The only other film that he’s made without Jay and Silent Bob was Jersey Girl, an ok film struck down by the curse of Gigli. There is no need to fear, however, because from the very first scene it is clear that we are in classic Kevin Smith mode; the movie is chock-full of the filthy humour, endearing moments and lack of cinematographic flair that we have come to love.

Zack (Seth Rogen) and Miri (Elizabeth Banks) have been best friends since high school, and share a flat. Faced with major money troubles, they decide to get out of debt by making and starring in a porn film. They find that turning a platonic relationship into a sexual one has consequences.

The script is full of Smith’s trademark dirty discussions and some pretty gross moments. The scenes where the ragtag cast and crew make the film are very amusing and reminiscent of his debut, Clerks¸ shot in the shop where he worked outside of business hours. Porn is an innately funny genre, what with the ridiculous scripts and acting, and this film gets its money’s worth out of the concept.

The cast is eclectic, and all the better for it. It is always nice to see Smith regulars Jeff Anderson and Jason Mewes on screen, this time joined by real porn stars Traci Lords and Katie Morgan. Josh Rogen is cuddly and sweet as Zack (a character obviously based on Kevin Smith) and Elizabeth Banks is charming as Miri, if a little bland. She is definitely flavour of the month in Hollywood, but her face so closely resembles Parker Posey’s that I always have unrealistic expectations of her wackiness and comedic talent, leaving me slightly disappointed.

But it is Justin Long (last seen in Die Hard 4.0 and Ed) who steals the show in a single scene. Using an unnaturally low voice to play a gay porn star, he manages to be at once creepy, cool and hilarious. It is the highlight of a very funny film with a very sweet heart.

Review - Quantum of Solace

I wasn’t as enthused as everyone else by Daniel Craig’s first outing as James Bond in Casino Royale. Although reasonably enjoyable, in my mind Bond does not have sandy hair and a face like a beefy Sid James, and it was all a bit too serious. Quantum of Solace continues in the same vein, as our hero grieves Vespa Lynd by moodily killing people all over the world.

Bond is on the trail of a new, and very secretive, terrorist organisation. One of its members is Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric, playing a slightly more evil version of Jools Holland), a supposed environmentalist who likes staging coups and ruining the lives of poor people. Bond’s determination to stop him, against the wishes of MI6, leaves him a target.

Craig is robotic and emotionless – Bond is still so upset about his girlfriend dying in the last film that he is not allowing himself to feel. It may be intentional, but his ice blue eyes are so cold that it is hard to sustain one’s interest. Judy Dench is suitably matriarchal as M, but I was upset by her incongruous use of a short ‘a’ sound in the word ‘bastard’; she may be from Yorkshire, but that’s not the RP she was taught at the Central School of Speech and Drama.

My main concern is that most of what made Bond films special has gone out the window. The villain, though creepy, is perhaps not quite evil enough, and the Bond girls (Olga Kurylenko and Gemma Arterton) don’t get much screen time or a chance to be glamorous. If it wasn’t ‘cool’ enough, maybe they shouldn’t make them at all. Hopefully, with Casino Royale an origin film and Quantum of Solace about getting over that origin, the next instalment will see Bond emerge as a confident, suave and slightly more cheery fellow.

The action scenes here are gritty, exciting and numerous, almost making up for the shortcomings; this Bond is not averse to getting into fist fights, and looks like he could handle himself. Overall this is solid action fare, with car chases, explosions and plenty of hanging off scaffolding to enjoy, but it will not be anyone’s favourite Bond film.

Review - Gomorrah

As one watches the Godfather or Goodfellas, life in organised crime does look sort of glamorous – until the bullets start flying and the knives start slitting throats, of course. In Gomorrah, it doesn’t seem glamorous for even a second. This brutal Italian film examines the Camorra, Naples’ version of the Sicilian Mafia, and the damage it does. As you watch these men and boys go about their lives in crumbling concrete estates soaked in grey light, you would be forgiven for thinking you were watching a 1980s Mike Leigh film. This is certainly not the sun-drenched Italy of travel brochures, all blue seas and pasta.

Gomorrah follows the lives of disparate people involved with the Camorra, which the viewer learns has its finger in many pies (toxic waste dumping being the most upsetting for someone like me who was brought up on Captain Planet). Young Totò (Salvatore Abruzzese) is a new recruit who we see losing his innocence quite spectacularly. The fact that this boy does so in an England football shirt makes it all the more upsetting. Marco (Marco Macor, a dead ringer for a young Robert De Niro) and Ciro (Ciro Petrone) are two bumbling wannabe gangsters taking on the local Don. Pasquale (Salvatore Contalupo) is a tailor creating haute couture gowns for the Camorra who attempts some very risky moonlighting for a rival, and Don Ciro (Gianfelice Imparato) is a money collector trying to survive as a turf war rages around him. These are just some of the stories woven together to form a picture of a city living in fear of this organisation, and there are none more afraid than those working for it.

The film is based on a book by Roberto Saviano, who now lives under police protection because of the attention he has brought to this secret society. Shot in a grainy, semi-documentary style, everything feels extremely authentic. The lingering shots do slow the pace to a crawl at times and it is not always clear which sides some of the characters are on, but overall this is a bloody and eye-opening introduction to a way of life we don’t often hear about, and one which seems to be without end.