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.

Film review - The Social Network

The Social Network is a very exciting and funny film about computer programming. That may seem like an oxymoron, but when the programme in question is one of the most significant websites in history, one that changes people’s lives on a daily basis and is worth billions, it perhaps isn’t that surprising.

The film tells the (possibly quite apocryphal) story of Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), the founder of Facebook, from the creation of the website until he settles the various lawsuits it in turn created. After his girlfriend dumps him, Mark gets drunk and creates a website in a night so that people can rate the hotness of female students. This gets him a lot of attention, including from the Winklevoss twins, giant blond rowers who have plans to build a dating website exclusively for Harvard students. Mark agrees to help them while at the same time building thefacebook.com. We all know which site came out on top.

It is quite unusual to have a main character of a film that is so unlikable. Mark is like Sheldon Cooper with a sex drive and without the charm – selfish, terrible in social situations and with a fragile ego. Eisenberg doesn’t try to make him sympathetic and turns out a very good performance. Mark may be the brains of the operation, but his business partner and best friend Eduardo Saverin is the heart. Played by the lovely Andrew Garfield (last seen in The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus), his betrayal is very sad to watch. Justin Timberlake also gives a fine performance as the founder of Napster. Refreshingly, he plays a prat rather than a cool guy.

The journey from college dorm room to Silicon Valley is fast-paced and hilarious, thanks mainly to the script by The West Wing creator Aaron Sorkin. It’s full of lines perhaps even too clever to be spoken by a load of Harvard smart alecs. The direction by David Fincher is as cool, swish and grubby as you would expect.

Despite all the quality on screen, what perhaps is most striking about the film is how recent the events depicted are. Facebook was founded in early 2004 but a world without it already seems unthinkable for many. Perhaps it is too recent, both for the filmmakers to understand the impact of the website and for the real people portrayed in the film. However, it’s hard to quibble when seeing the film is such an enjoyable experience. Roll on Wikipedia: The Movie, I say.

London Film Festival Review - Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale

I’m half Finnish, and I’m always telling people that Father Christmas lives in Mount Korvatunturi in Finnish Lapland. No-one ever believes me! They think he lives at the North Pole. Like that’s even possible.

It was therefore exciting to see that a film confirming the real origins of Father Christmas was showing at the London Film Festival. Little did I know that I had a lot to learn about Santa Claus myself. You see, the cuddly figure we’ve been brought up with was just the creation of Coca Cola. In reality, he is deadly.

Rare Exports follows Pieteri, a little boy living in the shade of Korvatunturi with his father. An American mining company has been digging deep into the mountain looking for the real Father Christmas. When children start going missing, Pieteri begins to suspect that something evil has been unleashed.

On the surface this should be a children’s film – the main character is a classic lonely child who is not taken seriously by adults, and it’s about Santa Claus. However, it is much too scary for children. The monsters evoke a strong sense of menace and are just real enough to be believable. Though perhaps not an out-and-out horror, most adults should be at least creeped out by it. British and American parents may also feel that the more relaxed attitude to nakedness shown, though typical of the Nordic countries, is not suitable for their offspring.

Rare Exports is based on two short films made in 2003 and 2005 by director Jalmeri Helander. Like District 9 before it, one interesting idea has been successfully developed and expanded into a feature. Funny, shocking and sweet, this film is very different from your usual Hollywood holiday fare, and all the better for it. I don’t think I’m ever going to look at Father Christmas the same way again.

London Film Festival Review - The Parking Lot Movie

I love slackers and slacker culture. I would like to be a slacker myself (I certainly watch enough television), but my work ethic and drive have always been just strong enough to get in the way. Spiritually, though, I am at one with these people. The Parking Lot Movie is a portrait of a slacker paradise that has been lovingly cultivated in Charlottesville, Virginia, for over 20 years. Like a documentary version of Clerks, it shows the titanic struggles and absurdities of the service industry through the eyes of these outsiders.

The Corner Parking Lot is a little car park situated opposite the University of Virginia owned by Chris Farina – a very relaxed guy who likes to wear shorts, and who also happens to be a documentary film maker himself. Chris only lets friends work in the car park, or friends of friends. This policy has meant that all his employees have been intelligent slackers – philosophy graduate students, musicians, dreamers. Director Meghan Eckman spent three years filming the goings on at the car park, and interviewing current and past attendants. The results are hilarious, moving and fascinating.

Working at the parking lot involves mostly just sitting alone in the ramshackle booth and taking money from customers. Eckman allows her subjects to go through the minutiae of all the tasks, the little rituals that have developed in this strange island of space-time. The job gives plenty of scope for these underachievers to analyse their lives, themselves, and the nature of the car park, producing many of the best lines. For example, one describes the role of the parking lot attendant as that of a “creator-destroyer god”.

Unfortunately the attendants’ philophising and mucking around has to be interrupted by those who want to use the car park. In the words of Randal Graves: “This job would be great if it wasn’t for the customers.” The interviewees do not prescribe to the maxim that “the customer is always right”. It’s more a case of “the customer is always a douche”. When you realise they deal with a lot of SUV-driving frat boys, it’s not surprising that they are cynical.

There is a sense of desolation running between the laughs, of course – no one dreams of being a car park attendant. However, for many it seems the job gave them time to find out what they wanted to do, and to grow as a human being while they did it.

Slacker culture held the Zeitgeist during the 90s, and so the The Parking Lot Movie seems to come from that decade – it’s so lo-fi that it should be soundtracked by Pavement. The low budget feel is charming, however, and doesn’t detract from the subject at all.

Eckman has found a wonderful bit of weirdness to focus her camera on, filled with droll and witty people. This documentary has everything from the sublime to the ridiculous, the mundane to the profound, the pitiful to the inspirational. And it has all been found in one little patch of concrete.