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.
Sunday, 8 March 2009
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.
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