2010. Dir: John Madden. Starring: Helen Mirren, Jessica Chastain, Sam Worthington, Martin Csokas and Tom Wilkinson. ●●●○○
Who would have thought I would spend a weekend watching two incredibly diverse films but find that both of them have deep parallels to another film I saw earlier in the year. In the case of The Debt thematically it couldn't be further from it's predecessor but if I say one of the similarities is rising star Jessica Chastain then you'll know I'm subconsciously drawn to Tree of Life, but the similarities don't end with the casting because as with Malick's free-associated meanderings there is a great movie hidden within a silly one. Only in the case of John Madden's latest it's centre is much less great and the wrapping infinitely sillier.
The film see-saws between a modern day (or mid 90's at least) Israel and 1960's East Berlin, between a trio of retired Mossad agents (Mirren, Wilkinson and Ciaran Hinds) reminiscing and basking in the glory their younger selves (Chastain, Csokas and Worthington respectively) earned kidnapping the notorious Surgeon of Buckenwald, a nazi war criminal who comes across as a amalgamation of Eichmann and Josef Mengele (as played by Gregory Peck).
The Berlin scenes are very well handled, throwing us back to muscular espionage thrillers of the past, with cut wires and stolen cars each part of the plan to smuggle Vogel (Jesper Christiansen) and his captors across the border seems so precise in it's planning that the failure of the original mission and the days the three spend, cramped together enduring the verbal onslaught of their captured socio-path, more observant and insidious than the agents could have imagined. Chastain proves her mettle as an actress here, utterly captivating as the naive but steely Rachel, watch her haunted expression outside her gynaecological visits to Vogel and you can see why her star has risen so quickly.
There are some interesting plot developments in this section, Csokas ebbing of humanity Worthington's survivors guilt and the love triangle that develops between them even identifying the conflicted soul of Vogel but alas these all lead to nothing much as the film seems anxious to return to the present. Even the second act twist, the debt of the title came as an anticlimax as we'd virtually heard the details in Mirren and Wilkinson's meaty encounters.
You see after the mission Chastain and Csokas marry and have a child who later writes a book about their exploits, keeping them in the public eye long after they should have slipped into footnote lore, so when the threat of the extent of the mission failure looks set to go public they must take action to hide the truth. Between unnecessary dialogue and Mirren prancing around like a female, sexagenarian Bourne the plot disappears into a mess of it's own making so by the time the credits role instead of the indelible image of Chastain holding back her tears you've got old people wrestling. It's undignified.
Madden is as pedestrian a director as always, able to hold a scene but adding nothing that isn't in Matthew Vaugh, Jane Goldman and Peter Straughn's script.
It's probably worth waiting to see this one on TV, and even then I'd probably change channels about 15 minutes before the end. Might be worth chasing down the Israeli original Ha-Hov though.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
The Debt
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
The Conspirator
2010. Dir: Robert Redford. Starring: James McAvoy, Robin Wright, Evan Rachel Wood, Danny Huston and Tom Wilkinson. ●●○○○
The trouble with watching films that posit a political statement that you support is that whislt the euphoria of a high quality finished article is heightened so to is abject disappointment of poorly made movie making. Sadly The Conspirator falls squarely in the later camp, for it's liberal pleading for social justice and the rule of law the inadequacies of the movie itself somewhat negate the impact of the message.
The film opens, utterly pointlessly, on the field of battle - or at least the aftermath due to budgetary constraints - with James McAvoy's serious Lt. Frederick Aitken trying to keep the horribly injured Justin Long alive by telling him an inappropriate joke. Fortunately we never hear the end as medics arrive first to cart off McAvoy but he persuades them to tend to his friend first. I suppose the point of the scene is to introduce McAvoy's self-sacrificing nature and to reinforce the bravery of the man, even to highlight his stubborness. It pretty much fails on all counts as personally I never felt McAvoy's life was in danger, as horrific as his injury may appear there's little sense of sacrifice in the scene.
This scene is important though as those qualities are repeated and reflected in McAvoy's journey through the rest of the film, and it feels equally false in context of the legal battle to save Robin Wright's Mary Surratt the mother of the Lincoln assassination support team that got away. Yes, McAvoy loses membership of his officers club, his haughty girlfriend (Alexis Bledel) and finds his sholastic legal reputation tarnished but none of that seems like a great loss and he friends seem to be prepared to stick by him at all costs. Part of this issue is McAvoy - he seems uncomforatble in the role and fails to convince as a patriotic and torn soldier forced to defend a woman he clearly imagines as guilty.
The vast majority of the running time is given over to McAvoy's defence of the case, from the early days as a paralegal to Tom Wilkinson's Southern born senator (who knows he cannot win the case due to the perception of his loyalties during the civil war and eventually manouvres McAvoy into taking the case alone) to the final summation of the case where McAvoy rails against the clearly biased military court procedure with no jury organised and orchestrated by prosecution counsellor Danny Huston - tiptoeing malevavently around the court like an oiled spider.
Robin Wright gives a great performance as the proud Southern matriach, unapologetic for her thoughts and beliefs and stubbornly refusing to save her victimisation (the film unequivocably indicates her likely innocence) by selling out her absentee son. Stoical, even in the shadows of the gallows, Wright is able to bring layers to the character that simply aren't there in the script a tilt of the head or a flicker of cheeks making up for the lack of anything for her to do. Equally under-represented with the screenplay is Evan Rachel Wood as her daughter Anna, although she too tries her best dodging the over obvious symbolism in the set decoration.
Whenever we leave those two ladies the pace of the film suffers though, McAvoy's priviledged circle pontificate self-righteously but come across as boorish or irrelevant. Robert Redford, directing James D. Solomon's script, seems unable to coax any sense of reality form the supporting cast of Army officers and Kevin Kline's bespectacled Edwin Stanton, gleefully pushing over the rule of law in order to give the public the sense of retribution they desire is given no sense of character depth.
Redford has yet to make an interesting movie, essentially the best of his films have been well staged insightful scripts, and that workmanlike style is shown up in all it's inadequate slendour given the meandering, preachy script.
And remember this review is from someone who wanted to like the film. I would argue for the fundamental rights of habeous corpus for all. The continued injustice of Guantanamo Bay (and you could argue the foreign policies of extraordinary rendition, military tribunal and indefinate incarceration without charge are the real subjects of this film) is a cancer in the US constition, it blights the best intentions of the early signatories and the principles of justice must be applied to even those accused of the most heinous crimes. So just imagine what the the backers and apologists of the war on terror will make of this film.
We on the left deserve so much better.
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger
2010. Dir: Woody Allen. Starring: Gemma Jones, Anthony Hopkins, Naomi Watts, Josh Brolin and Antonio Banderas. ●●○○○
There's a sense of trepidation that sinks in whenever Woody Allen releases another picture. Where will it fit in the canon? How many times will I laugh? Will I regret the ticket price? Will it be better or worse than his last picture (like a neverending higher or lower card game)? Well the answers for You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger are as follows: Pretty low. Very few. Yes. And this is both better and worse than Whatever Works - better because the characters and morality is nowhere near as repugnant and worse because there isn't the experimentation and concepts that drove his previous film.
The overstuffed plot follows couples Gemma Jones and Anthony Hopkins and their daughter Naomi Watts with Josh Brolin as their relationships breakdown and they find themselves back on the dating game with (respectively) Roger Ashton-Griffiths, Lucy Punch, Antonio Banderas and Freida Pinto. Each of these relationships seems to be doomed to failure for the exact reasons that they are brought together - a mix of ennui and foreshadowing covers the players clearly indicating their individual fates.
The performances range from the reasonably entertaining - Antonio Banderas gets away with a hesitant charm and a tendancy to prevaricate - to the downright offensive; Lucy Punch doing to English high-class hookers what Mira Sorvino did for her American contemporaries only making it sound like a Catherine Tate impersonator. With some of the others barely registering. Anthony Hopkins in particular needs to get a new phone to deliver his performances through.
Of course this smorgasboard of talent would be forgiven if the writing was clever or witty. Unfortunately there's little realism in the script - nearly everytime Naomi Watts as the patient Sally, trying to remain sane as everyone else falls apart, speaks I found myself screaming inside "But no-one talks like that". Recrimination led arguments come and go with no sense of tension around them, mildly offensive chat-up lines seem to have the female cast gazing tenderly into their male counterparts eyes.
The are whole sub-plots that appear and drift away with no real meaning or connection to the whole including Brolin's writing career, Pinto's engagement and the dead son of Hopkins and Jones which seems to exist only to make a cheap psychological connection to forward momentum of Hopkins. All this would be forgiveable if the central fortune telling storyline (featuring the delicious Pauline Collins hammily doling out phoney advice to the neurotic Gemma Jones) was given the necessary room to breathe and develop.
The design is fine, location shooting fine and the jazzy score fine - but nothing we haven't seen before from Allen and it's not a London that I recognise that's for sure.
I wouldn't bother with this one, if I were you, just cross your fingers that Woody will find form again with his next picture so I can ask those leading questions again.
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
The Tempest
2010. Dir: Julie Taymor. Starring: Helen Mirren, Felicity Jones, Reeve Carney, Russell Brand and Djimon Hounsou. ●●●●○
Whilst some of William Shakespeare's plays are constantly in the backs of public consciousness (Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet) others drift in and out of fashion; known more to aficionados and literature students than the average cinema goer. The Tempest definitely sits within the second set partly because Shakespeare's last play is problematic. Like A Midsummer Night's Dream it creates it's own logic; albeit significantly darker in it's intent influenced by the failing of Shakespeare's own literary skills and the King James's obsession with witchcraft. Perhaps the biggest issue, which resonates fully in a post-Iraq geopolitical world, is the ambivalent approach to imperialism and colonisation. Julie Taymor's production rather glosses over these issues, using the stunt casting of Helen Mirren in the traditional male lead of Propero (now called Prospera) as a tactic to confuse and mislead the audience's attention.
The titular storm occurs in the opening scenes of Act I, Prospera exercising her powers with the sprite Ariel (Ben Whishaw) under her control in order to wreck a passing vessel carrying the conspirators behind her exile and abandonment to the barren island where she resides. The rest of the story concerns three groups of the survivors as they respond to Prospera's machinations.
The first group contains her usurping brother Alonso (Chris Cooper) oily spreading discourse with Ferdinand (Alan Cumming) against the King of Naples (David Strathairn) with the loyal and verbose Gonzalez on hand (Tom Conti). Meanwhile Ferdinand (Reeve Carney), the heir to the throne of Naples, has been separated and introduced to Prospera's daughter Miranda (Felicity Jones) in order to test his virtue as a potential suitor.
Finally Stephano and Trinculo, comic relief as a drunkard, wasteful, working class (played by Alfred Molina and Russell Brand respectively) form a bond with the island's sole native - and Propera's slave - Caliban (Djimon Hounsou). Together they plot to overthrow the matriarchal state in which Caliban is imprisoned.
The gender change at the centre is a curious one, it allows for a much closer relationship between Prospera and Miranda, one that gives an additional urgency to the protective instincts Prospera feels towards her daughter - from the alleged lustful desire of Caliban to the shield from her work. That said it weakens Miranda who seems both whiny at times, yet also the standing up against her parent is less risky.
Of course Mirren delivers in the central role, but this isn't just a Propera show as other adaptation's have indicated. Chris Cooper is suitably menacing, virtually licking his lips as he whispers conspiracies. Tom Conti also hits the mark as the aging windbag. Brand and Molina might not be doing anything we haven't seen before but it is what they do best - Brand in particular seems to have wandered in from his stand up show. I was especially taken by Ben Whishaw's performance, at once enamoured by Prospera as well as desperately seeking his freedom from her control.
Design wise there are few film-makes more distinctive that Taymor. Sandy Powell's costume design is fantastic, from the zip encrusted noblemen ware to the seemingly pieces together costuming of the island residents. Whishaw's costumes also shone - when he appears as a crow it's beautiful frightening and captivating.
Eliott Goldenthal's music, including incidental songs, is also wonderfully integrated into the action and is among his best scores. Taymor's direction is at it's usual high standard - although she's clearly more interested in spectacle than character. Weirdly at times the film seems rushed - Prospera's about face on her knowledge seems almost whimsical.
I would heartily recommend this version of the play, but would have preferred Taymor to really try to confront the message of the story. When I leave with sympathy for Ariel's imprisonment but no opinion on Caliban's mistreatment I know there's been a trick missed.
Thursday, 24 February 2011
How Do You Know
2010. Dir: James L. Brooks. Starring: Reese Witherspoon, Paul Rudd, Owen Wilson, Jack Nicholson and Kathryn Hahn. ●●○○○
How Do You Know if the movie you're in is an absolute dud? Well a good clue is when an extra walking into a building steals a scene from the romantic leads who you just know will end up together when the final curtain falls. Reese Witherspoon and Paul Rudd should really have looked behind them during the hospital scenes and handed in their notice at that point.
I apologise for starting the review using the title is such an obvious and derivative way. I'm not the first (much more learned critics have done the same) nor am I the most inventive but then neither is this movie. The title is so anodyne and bland it's difficult to imagine the rest of the film being able to crawl out of it's pointless premise.
Reese Witherspoon is the aging (32?) softball player dropped from the national team and so finds herself at a crossroads in her life. Amazingly she's the only member of the team replaced in this particular year even though her record appears to be impeccable. Owen Wilson is her philandering boyfriend - it's spot on casing even if Wilson is coasting with a dreadful accent. Paul Rudd and his father Jack Nicholson are facing FBI investigations into corporate corruption in Egypt (ooh, timely) and it takes no brains at all to work out who's taking the fall for whom in this company.
Note that of these central characters only Rudd comes close to having multiple sides to his personality, Witherspoon appears to need post-it notes to remind her to feel anything at all. In fact it could be said that Rudd is the only cast member able to walk away from this project with any dignity.
The fault lies with writer/director James L. Brooks who is clearly trying to repeat his 80's success with Broadcast News but forgetting to insert the vulnerability that made control freak Holly Hunter and vapid William Hurt such rounded characters. Here the instantly dislikeable characters have nothing hiding underneath to allow us to warm to them later, even when Brooks is clearly wanting us to let go and admit we all love each other.
Instead we have a series of sketch like scenes which often don't relate to each other with some lame humour thrown into the dialogue. The stand out of these follows on from Rudd secretary giving birth and her partner asking her to marry him, effectively played twice there is genuine humour and pathos in the reactions and memories of all of the performances in the scene. Something sadly lacking in the rest of the movie.
Sadly this is immediately followed by an extra in scrubs missing an automatic revolving door. Reese and Paul were saying something profound to each other at this point but I was far too busy bein istracted by the figure in blue. When that happens you know you're in trouble, and you know this is a movie best avoided.
Thursday, 17 February 2011
Biutiful
2010. Dir: Alejandro González Iñárritu. Starring: Javier Bardem, Maricel Alvarez, Hanaa Bouchaib, Guillermo Estrella and Eduard Fernandez. ●●●●○
Inarritu's first film without screen-writing partner Guillermo Arriaga (the split appears to be permanent) is a departure in stlye from the multi-character story arcs he's used to, but the overriding themes of multiculturalism and the interconnectivity of fate remain. The miserablist Biutiful reminds us that life is cheap and full of heartache, even it's brushes with magical realism do nothing to lift the spirits of the audience.
Barcelona criminal Javier Bardem is having a bad time, his schizophrenic wife has abandoned the family and is casually sleeping with his brother, the illegal immigrants he acts as a conduit for police bribery are hawking their goods in the wrong area, and his connection with the recently deceased is getting out of hand. Plus he's also dying of Stomach cancer so of course it's down to Bardem to ensure that his daughter is able to spell Beautiful succesfully (needless to say he doesn't totally achieve this).
Ultimately the plot is irrelevant - this is a movie about suffering - it explores the lengths to which Bardem's soul is able to deal with the inequality of life and the desparation of his circumstances. It's deliberately bleak with further trials heaping themselves on his fractured conscience.
Bardem's performance is superb, the suffering is etched onto his face. As is Maricel Alvarez as his imbalanced wife, neither overplaying nor sugarcoating her mental illness.
The star though is Barcelona, unrecognisable to the tourists in it's handling of the inherent poverty and underclass of major city life. The production design is also superb, each flat, each factory, each location seems recognisable and lived in with the subtle distinctions of class, taste and ambition.
There is also a refreshing sense that this film is for adults, the visions of the dead that Bardem is subjected to are fleeting and on the edge of the screen, the relationship is referred to without being overt. Visual metaphors on the delicacy of life are allowed to drift in the shadows but aren't forced down the viewers throats. Saying there there are obvious attempts to elicit emotion from the audience. There is a tragic event about three quarters of the way through which would be enough in itself but due to the characters involved pushes us to an unnecessary extent. The simplicity of the bookend, snowbound scenes are much more poignant - especially in the closing credits.
I would recommend this film, but take a tissue and be prepared: there are no happy endings in Inarittu movies.
Thursday, 10 February 2011
Morning Glory
2010. Dir: Roger Michell. Starring: Rachel McAdams, Harrison Ford, Diane Keaton, Patrick Wilson and Jeff Goldblum. ●●●○○
Formulas are meant to work, they are meant to work because the plot is tried and tested with a million other examples in the relevant genre. They work because we, as an audience, often don't want much more than the formula. In Morning Glory writer Aline Brosh McKenna (The Devil Wears Prada) and director Roger Michell (Notting Hill) both know that formula and work very hard to follow it. They should have tried something different. The formula restricts them so much that the great chemistry and situations are buried under the relentless forward motion of the plot contrivances.
Of course the plot does not have an original twist in it's 107 minute running time. Rachel McAdams, as perky as possible, plays a workaholic TV producer who gets the enviable job of trying to save Daybreak (no, not that one) the ailing breakfast news programme on IBS (couldn't thay have found better initial than that). Recognising things have to change shesacks the pervy male anchor and replaces him with grumpy high-minded journo Harrison Ford. In the meantime she's in the early stages of a relationship with current affairs producer Patrick Wilson.
Does the show get to the magic share that will stop Jeff Goldblum's exec cancelling it? Will Ford and co-anchor Diane Keaton put away their differences and work together as a team? Will Wilson and McAdams find a way to co-exist with the demands of their high pressure jobs? We know the answers to these - they all fit within the formula.
On the plus side, other than the bleeding obvious throughline of the movie, just about everything work fine. The comic element works well throughout with some choice one-liners from the older cast and the occasional bout of slapstick, the romance seems a little tagged on but both McAdams and Wilson are beautiful people and you can't help hoping it will be OK for them in the long run, although frankly I have my doubts. The audience that were hoping for Broadcast News level bite at the dumbing down of hard journalism shouldn't be too disappointted as the thesis seems to me to suggest that - in Breakfast anyway - the big story should be able to rub shoulders with culture.
The cast all put in fine work, with Diane Keaton and Harrison Ford particulary proving what great comedic performers they are; she's all ditzy and charming, he's deadpan with solid timing.
For a change I'd like to suggest how this film could have been significantly better. Instead of showing the arc of the characters over several months I believe we could have followed behind the scenes during one morning show, from the pre-production meeting to the final credits. I think the same beats could've been hit, and the emotional storyline for the characters who learn might have had a better chance of translating with the audience if it were a single day of getting there. The jokes would also have had more time to develop. Any Hollywood producers who agree just give me a call and we can discuss Morning Glory 2.
Overall the film was pleasant enough viewing in spite of it's straitjacket. I fully expect this to be the best romantic comedy I see this year.
Wednesday, 2 February 2011
Hereafter
2010. Dir: Clint Eastwood. Starring: Matt Damon, Cécile De France, Bryce Dallas Howard, Jay Mohr and Frankie McLaren. ●●●○○
Last week I heard an interesting pair of interconnected stories about the pre-production process of Hereafter, both of which mainly concern the passage of the script from Peter Morgan's bottom drawer to Clint Eastwoods shooting schedule. After Morgan's success with The Queen and Frost/Nixon he was well aware he needed to get more scripts out whilst on top, keep the money coming in when the goodwill's there, you know what I mean. So he dug out his draft script for a piece about three characters linked through death, and sent it to his agent. Some time later he was called to a meeting with Steven Spielberg (which allegedly involved sitting for ten minutes in a pitch black room) where he was told that Eastwood loved the script and planned to direct. Morgan then asked for the script back so he could work on it and get it ready for filming - at which point he was told it didn't need any revisions.
Cut to the finished product; a film which virtually screams "This script isn't finished!"
Each of the three storylines explore characters with differing attitudes and experiences of the possibility of life after death, and you could easily have made a better feature that concentrated on two of those then trying to mix them up, with the wholly uninspired way of bringing them together at the end.
In section one we follow Cécile De France as a Parisien TV reporter who through surviving the Boxing Day Tsunami in South East Asia goes through a near death experience. It's worth noting the special effects at this point are spectacular, not only is the tidal wave and it's destruction rendered with spine chilling precision (you've probably seen the trailer which showcases the trees falling in the distance) but it also features the most realistic underwater movement shots I've seen. De France then researches the phenomenon of near-death experiences at the cost of her job with the network. It's a neat concept, but without a central thesis or the evidence of rigourous research it somehow cheapens what could have been an interesting segment on scientific dogma and political discomfort around the whole idea of death.
The second, and by far the most successful, strand follows retired medium Matt Damon as he tries to live his life without lapsing back into the old habits. The script treats his abilities as real but unwelcome, as a psychological affliction he cannot be cured of. The tentative romance he builds with Bryce Dallas Howard, a co-student in an Italian cookery class, is wonderfully judged from the tasting tests to preparing dinner at his apartment. That later scene is heartbreaking as Damon tries to convince Howard not to have a reading. There's a final reading that Damon does towards the end of the movie that lets you into how much might be show - it's perfectly judged, Damon giving a performance that should have had better notices.
The final section involves two wooden twins and their mockney heroin addicted mother, and before you can say green cross code one of the boys is hit by a van. I realise it's early days for Frankie and George McLaren but neither of them have much of a future in film acting based on their performances here. This section also sees the biggest emotional jumps from broad comedy to mawkish sentimentality neither of which work.
Eastwood directs with the steady assuredness we've come to expect but there's no real connection to the material, so even the emotional beats seem forced. Perhaps if he'd only let Morgan play around with the script a bit more it may have worked.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Black Swan
2010. Dir: Darren Aronofsky. Starring: Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassel, Barbara Hershey and Winona Ryder. ●●●●●
It's all too easy to forget that cinema is an art form, we tend to imagine the studios heads sitting in overlit offices with fawning assistants, counting the box office receipts of whatever Transformer shaped dreck they've unleased to the public as a coked-out pimp would guard his wares. Even those of us who profess a love of arthouse cinema, with our badly subtitled Albanian propaganda that quietly destroys beourgeois family values whilst simultaneously propping up our intellectually elitist worldview, have been fooled by false prophets of the human spirit. But this study of artistic desire, this interlude in the mind of performer, this screeching, screaming "were-swan" pushes past the boundaries of the screen, boldly pronouncing "I AM ART"! Black Swan is the first film I've seen for a long time that cannot be judged against normal rules; it's as much an installation as a movie.
That's it. Rave over. The hyperbole is done with. My point though is Black Swan enters your conciousness in a way few films do. I've not seen all of the films that made it to the Academy's top ten yesterday, but I doubt Swan will be my favourite, however it will be the one I remember for longer. Certain images, themes and moments within the movie will stay ingrained in my head, so visceral is the experience I felt I was up there with Natalie Portman's Nina executing every pirouette forcing my way through the dance.
You see it's impossible: to describe it is to relive the moment.
Portman's Nina gets a surprise bump up the pecking order of her ballet troupe, cast in the dual role of the Swan Queen and Black Swan in Tchaikovsky's most famous ballet Swan Lake. Vincent Cassel as her director/choreographer and would-be lover taunts her inability to unlock the passion of the Black Swan, to overthrough the virginal perfection of her dancing and awaken the inner desires. Enter Mila Kunis as her rival, a dancer able to fully show the passion of the Black Swan, unhindered by the desperation to please.
It is this desperation that fuels the story, the layer upon layer of agony and mental torment that Nina puts herself through. Slowly destroying her body through excessive practice and relentless acts of self-harm and bulimia. When the opening night comes we hear every cracking bone, every heaving breath as Nina forces her way through the performance, like her natural counterparts we are treated to the excessive underwater effort whilst the audience see only the gentle majesty of the whole. Nina wants to be admired, she seeks the gratification of the applause and internally vows to prove the doubters, the other dancers, the lothario Cassel, her own bitter and poisonous mother, icily performed by Barbara Hershey, even when cooing over her "sweet, sweet girl".
None of the cast miss their marks, and Portman especially gives a career best performance fully realisng the emotional journey of her doomed heroine.
There are elements that don't work, the script overeggs the pudding reminder us again and again of the themes, and Winona Ryder's passed over Prima Ballerina Beth seems to exist purely to underline old cliches repeated in far too many ballet movies, but these cannot take away from the superb mix of sound and image.
Matthew Libatique upclose hand held cinematography enters the world created by David Stein's art direction and Amy Westcott's costumes, at the same time the layering of sound, dialogue and Matt Dunkley and Clint Mansell's arrangements of Tchaikovsky's masterpiece ensure every moment fits together even when we're clearly left the natural world.
But all of this leads to Darren Aronofsky. It's an achievement that cannot be overstated, he has directed a piece of art, he sought perfection, and that alone makes it worth seeing.
Thursday, 6 January 2011
Love and Other Drugs
2010. Dir: Ed Zwick. Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Anne Hathaway, Oliver Platt, Hank Azaria and Josh Gad. ●●●○○
If the thought of seeing lots of Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway in the buff was what attracted to you to Love and Other Drugs then I have to say you won't be totally disappointed, there are boobs and bums all over the place, but not once does the flesh on screen seem gratuitous, indeed it's a film focussing on a relationship that (initially anyway) is based purely on the sexual connection and - forgive me if I'm unnatural - generally you're naked when you're having sex. The fact that I'm talking about the nudity at this point is rather odd, the film has been marketed heavily on the premise that Jake and Anne are naked a lot and this may well have clouded what this story is all about.
Here is where I agree with the marketing team, you can't isolate one strand that the film is about because it tries to be so many things it ens up falling over trying to please itself. It's a sex comedy, an expose of the pharmaceutical industry and Love Story rehash all in one; and that simply doesn't all gel together.
Jake Gyllenhaal plays Jamie Randall, master salesman and legendary lover, who meets bohemian waitress Maggie Murdock (Anne Hathaway) and whilst he's climbing up the greasy pole of pharmaceutical sales just around the introduction of Viagra she's coping with early onset Parkinson's disease (not that you can tell apart from the odd finger wiggle). They both start off not wanting a fully fledged relationship because they're both terrible afraid of bing abandoned but of course one develops and then they must learn to cope with the way things are.
Most of the satirical parts work well, Gyllenhaal and Oliver Platt as his supervisor, have a wonderfully crass on-screen chemistry and you they are scenes when you truly wonder how far these companies will go to ensure their product is prescribed. Enter Hank Azaria as a horndog doctor whose medical ethics extend to lying to patients, accepting bribes and prescribed whichever drug that the company will guarantee him getting laid. He has a nice speech about integrity later in the flm, utterly wasted in the background of a pajama party. In fact these sections come across as a medical Thank you for Smoking and perhaps had director Ed Zwick, who's TV experience with comedies such as "thirtysomething" and "My so-called life" has proved very useful.
The other sections don't work nearly as well. Hathaway simply doesn't convince as a Parkinson's patient, as a reluctant lover or even as a waitress. There's also a scene with real sufferer's talking about their illness which frankly belongs in another movie.
You wonder if the whole thing would have worked better if Maggie was just a girl disgusted by the industry who slowly taught Randall the error of his ways? (And yes I know it's based on a true story but surely they could have ignored that part for the sake of dramatic cohesion).
Overall I would say this is part of a good movie, interesting to get an insight into drug culture and miles above any other romantic comedy I've seen this year, but messy unfocused and stretched too far to work.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
The Way Back
2010. Dir: Peter Weir. Starring: Jim Sturgess, Colin Farrell, Ed Harris, Saoirse Ronan and Mark Strong. ●●●●○
Peter Weir makes a very odd choice in the early stages of his latest cinematic outng. During the opening credit sequence The Way Back is dedicated to the three Gulag escapees who survived the ordeal depicted in the movie and made it to India. Admittedly when you have a story that is, however loosely, based on factual events the concept of spoilers shouldn't really exist however Weir is gambling on the film succeeding in spite of the release of tension that is a result of this announcement. It's a bold move that tells the viewer that this movie is not about the result but about the attempt, it is less important to focus on who survives but on why the protagonists are making this journey.
The plot is very simple, Jim Sturgess' Janusz has been falsely imprisoned by the Soviet Government under Stalin following his wife's testimony against him - it is inferred that she must have been tortured in order to name him however no evidence of this is seen - after a brief section in the Gulag it becomes clear that most prisoners will either not survive or will lose their sanity so he organises a break with American Mr. Smith (Ed Harris), career criminal Valka (Colin Farrell) and four others. During the journey they als pick up a lone teenage girl played by Saoirse Ronan who helps the group of men to open up to each other in a way they couldn't do as fellow prisoners.
Very early on we are introduced to the hopelessness of the situation when the Prison warden explains the fences are not in themselves the wals but also are the thousand of miles of inhospitable terrain between them and civilisation. The message is clear, break out and you will not survive. Yet our ragtag group of mechanics, priests and accountants do, led by Janusz who's only one generation away from farmers.
The story telling is episodic, we follow the group from one terrain to another, icy forests, rocky escarpments, scorching deserts, with each small section ending either with the death or leaving behind of a character or a lesson learnt. All aspects of survival technique are stripped fom the telling so much so that we don't even see the method of escaping. This methodology doesn't let the movie flow as well as it should do, but it does help build the portrait of the men and reinforces the importance of why over how.
Whilst we may start the movie with the knowledge that many characters will not see the final credits that does not dim the emotions, with the first death there are fantastical images that they see, with another there's a feeling of escape. Janusz even underlines the fact that at least they die free men.
Sturgess is a subdued leading man, Janusz is almost embarassed by his status borne purely out of luck, and perhaps lacks the presence other actors may have brought to the role. The entire supprting cast are superb, Ed Harris has the biggest arc to his story - presenting a distorted mirror image to Janusz - and carries it off extremely well and Farrell is electric whenever he's on screen you can't look away. Gustaf Skarsgaard also stuck out for me as an ex-priest, his wary eyes and resigned attitude perfectly encapsulate a man who knows he has gone so far and understand what the next chapter in his life will bring.
The cinematography is as beautiful and as dramatic as you would expect from a film funded by National Geographic, and I very much doubt there's a shot in the movie that couldn't be used on the cover of the magazine.
There is an odd coda at the end which I feel doesn't work, although I can understand why it's tere dramatically and to tie up some comments and imagery from earlier in the film.
Peter Weir is a unique director in that he isn't an auteur, preferring to let the story be forefront, but at the same time you can see the mark of quality and painstaking accuracy in his movies, there's also an acceptance that the movie may be slow and that that's OK. This isn't Weir at his peak but it is still a superb movie and one that I would heartily recommend.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
2010 in Review and Top 20 for 2011
Can you believe we've come stumbling into the light at the end of 2010? It's been a long year with plenty of positive and negative surprises, there were some films that I was really looking forward to that came as a terrible disappointment (hello Robin Hood and Whatever Works) and some that came out of nowhere to steal my heart (neither of my top two films were on the radar when they were beign made).
As I said on Friday I've not seen as many films this year as usual, in particular I only saw one foreign language film (the Swedish one everyone saw) and that's something I plan to work on in 2011. I must remember that 60% of movies released are made outside of America where just 16% of the films I saw were, which includes British films. I need to be more open to different cultures and new experiences.
Over January I will be completing two annual events for the blog, which will also have the opportunity for your participation.
2010 in Review
Like most self-obsessed actors I dream of one day being accepted by the industry as one of their own, and eventually being invited to join the Academy. (I know, I know, but I can dream). Part of that dream would mean having my own ballot, my opportunity to give my opinion of the best performances and best films of the year.
Well, until AMPAS notice me I guess the only place I can say what I think is right here. So, starting tomorrow (Monday 3 Jan) I'll give you my votes. Of course they won't follow the Academy rules - I'm using the films I've seen and not just the ones eligible for this years which means many of the actual nominated movies from 2010's ceremony have the opportunity to appear on my ballot this year.
As I am an actor I will only be voting in the fields of which I would be able to vote if I were a member (acting and best film) there's no point in getting above my station.
At this point I would like to recommend a performance that is ineligible for the awards yet moved me to tears: 
No, not Richard Gere, but Hachi the Atika puppy from the film of the same name. This little dogs personality shone through in the film and it was nearly enough to make me go out and buy one.
20 for 2011
When I get to the end of my ballot we will kick off my top twenty most anticipated movies for 2011. This is always a contentious list of film programming that most people disagree with: which is pretty much why I like doing it. Between 9 and 30 January we will countdown those films that I am most looking forward to at this point. There are a number of criteria which potential films must meet in order to make it to the list:
1. It must be dated 2011 on imdb: This is tricky as there are a number of films coming out in the next couple of months here in the UK which are 2010 US releases some of which made it to my list in 2010 (Black Swan, Hereafter) but some did not (True Grit, Next Three Days) all of those would be in consideration if they were eligible. It also knocks out Darling Companion whcih is dated 2012 on imdb.
This first rule means the top 20 ends up being out of line with the year in review. From last years top 20 I have seen just 10, seven more have release dates between now and the end of March and one of the other three looks like it's going straight to DVD! I won't say which until it happens.
2. It must be filming or in post production according to imdb. So I'm sorry Kathryn Bigelow but Triple Frontier won't make it. This rule is mainly about trying to avoid films appearing in two lists, I simply don't believe you can get a project completed in such little time. This year there are no carry overs from last years list.
3. I have to be interested. Yes my choice is final. That's the way it is. I don't care how many people want to see Fast Five or Transformers: The Dark side of the Moon. I don't. Live with it.
Last year we had a readers competition for guessing the number one and I sent the joint winners some chocolates. This was a disaster as only one pack got through the post. (Sorry to Andrew and Alex - I still feel guilty about that). So this year there probably won't be a prize like that. However I will still have the competition so I want some ideas for prizes - it could be something as obvious as a voucher or maybe something cruel like making me review Fred: The movie. Whatever it is have a think and start posting ideas of what you would like when you're responding to the 20 films.
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
Another Year
2010. Dir: Mie Leigh. Starring: Jim Broadbent, Lesley Manville, Ruth Sheen, Oliver Maltman and Peter Wight. ●●●○○
Mike Leigh's process is often as fascinating as the final product. His modus operandi involving months of improvisation and character building with the actors before a full structure is agreed upon. This normally results in a slice of life that occurs over a very short time period, maybe a few weeks or months. In Another Year the timescale of the piece is extended so we see the relationships subtly develop through four seasons.
The films opens, naturally in Spring, with an introduction to our central couple within their individual workplaces. Geologist Tom (Broadbent) gets excited about mud and sand in a vast warehouse of samples, Counsellor Gerri (Sheen) attempts to help insomniac Imelda Staunton (in a very brief role). Like Leigh's previous Happy-Go-Lucky the positivity of these characters dovetails nicely with the downbeat nature of most of their friends, indicating this film may also be a lovesong to happiness.
Their closest friend is Lesley Manville's Mary, a ditzy secretary who works with Gerri with borderline alcoholism and a desperate crush on Tom and Gerri's (sorry,I'll try not to do that too often) 30 year old son Joe (Maltman). The film mainly charts the friendship between the central couple and Mary as the year progresses.
The relationship between Gerri and Tom is nicely drawn, as much unspoken as spoken, with the occasional tough word between them fitting naturally with the ease in which they cuddle and gossip at the end of each day. Mary is a grotesque creature which Lesley Manville does well to tame, her performance showing the softness within, the scene where she meets Joe's girlfriend is a masterclass and deserves award consideration on it's own. Although I would argue that the drunk scenes are largely overplayed with almost sit com level wobbling around.
Away from the characterisations though the film falls apart. Why would Gerri and Tom even try to maintain a friendship with the montrous Mary? How come everyone in their universe is either perpetually drunk or cracking open a bottle of wine (I lost count of the drinks for any of the major characters)? Does the happiness of the central coupling mean the peripheral characters must balance karma with their depression and loss?
Worst of all is the heavy handed symbolism of the piece. In each season we return to the allotment of Gerri and Tom, the seasonal themes of planting, growth, harvest and death are mirrored exactly in the action, and even in the production design. There's little chance of missing what Leigh is trying to state in these sections, and yet I was still left at the end wondering what the point of it all was.
Ultimatly I couldn't connect with Mike Leigh's latest slice of miserablism.
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps
2010. Dir: Oliver Stone. Starring: Michael Douglas, Shia LaBeouf, Josh Brolin, Carey Mulligan and Eli Wallach. ●●○○○
When the producers first considering a belated sequel to 1987's Wall Street the probably envisioned a searing look at both the insatiable greed and the obscene politics that created the financial meltdown of 2008. By resurrecting the anti-hero of the previous film - yuppie iconoclast Gordon Gekko as performed to oscar winning effect by Michael Douglas - they had a ready made sneering villain all they needed was Oliver Stone to bring back his righteous anger. Unfortunately Allan Loeb and Stephen Schiff's screenplay humanises Gekko and muzzles Stone leaving Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps a pale (even dull) imitation of it's predecessor.
As in 1987 the plot follows a young man torn between father figures. In 1987 it was Charlie Sheen (who has a fun cameo with a bitter aftertaste) who couldn't decide between following his father's (literally it's Martin) airline mechanic or Gekko's example of insider trading. Here it's Shia LaBeouf tossing his loyalties between old school trader Frank Langella, corporate shark Josh Brolin, fusion physicist Austin Pendleton and Douglas. However where Sheen could show the struggle and the script clearly delineated the two opposing forces here all of the potential father figures come with the same set of pros and cons and LaBeouf is unable to present the emotional burden placed upon him.
Shia's failure to convince with each of these relationships, as well as the ones with his mother (Susan Sarandon) or leftwing blogger girlfriend (Carey Mulligan) is a major issue with the movie. I honestly don't know why LaBeouf keeps getting high profile roles with quality directors; when did he put in a good performance? Personally I'd say he was quite good in 2003's Holes but it's been decidedly downhill since then.
This isn't the only problem. One of the main reasons that Gekko worked so well in the original was because whilst he was a gloriously quotable bastard there was a clear legal line he stepped over when insider trading. The most recent crash was perfectly legal if morally dubious so the badguys, mainly the superbly oily Josh Brolin but also his mentor Eli Wallach grunting and whistling through his lines with aplomb, are repugnant but have to resort to same crimes as Gekko in order to be punished.
The script even sits back from fully condemning Wall Street, clearing pointing out it doesn't fully understand all the concepts involved with these high end debt products but regularly reminding them of the values involved.
Most distressingly Gekko is given a heart. The plot contrives to make Carey Mulligan Gekko's estranged daughter (there's also a son who committed suicide!) so there's plenty of making up for Gordon to do, whilst he's still double dealing on all of the other characters. The final scene in particular (there are others but thy aren't always what they seem) involves Douglas making a number concessions to the character, and there are many occasions when Gekko insists he's human.
The film isn't all bad - Douglas does remind us how good his performance was in the original and the costumes are gorgeous and obscene. Director Oliver Stone does his best with the flat script using splitscreen and CGI to jazz up the trading a the use of Goya's Saturn devouring his Son is exemplary but the blunt visual motifs usually fail bubbles and dominoes among them.
Overall I would say this is a film worth missing. Just rent out the original for a far more invigorating look at the wolves in our financial services industry.
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Knight and Day
2010. Dir: James Mangold. Starring: Tom Cruise, Cameron Diaz, Peter Sarsgaard, Jordi Mollà and Viola Davis. ●●○○○
Oh, Tom. I wanted this to be good - I really wanted to enjoy this throwback to cheesy thrillers of the 60s. I as hoping to be able to jump on the couch with unbridled joy at your fun loving performance. Instead I can't help thinking what a wasted opportunity it was and how Knight and Day tried far too hard and ended up being loved by no-one.
The plot, such as it is, involves hapless classic car restorer Cameron Diaz (I know) getting caught up in rogue CIA operative Tom Cruise's plan to evade the spook community and transplant a convenient MacGuffin to nerdy scientist Paul Dano. (On a side issue does anyone remember when scientists stopped being older guys that are easily distracted and became younger guys who are perpetually nervy?) We then follow our mismatched duo from plane set piece to train set piece from New York to the Azores to the Alps. As I sit and type this I can't even remember all the locations or why...
Therein lies the problem. Hitchcock used to be able to take a flimsy excuse to set an Cary Grant sized everyman on a trip across the globe and it would all be so much fun that the reasons didn't matter. Did anyone really care why Cary was heading North by Northwest? Of course not, we just fell in love with the character and wanted to follow him all the way.
Neither of our leads here can even come close to matching Cary Grant (a tall order, I admit). Cameron comes off better, her natural comic timing aiding vastly with the continuous barrage of silly action scenes. Indeed her expressions when leaning over the back set and trying to drive a car or facing off against a hit man are the only moments of the film that made me stifle a giggle. Cruise comes off a lot worse, the fact that the character always appears to be in control is not endearing at all (and don't get me started on his habit of drugging Diaz) and whilst his overplaying of the off-the-wall elements come close to banishing the sofa-leaping Cruise from our sub-conscious the tongue in cheek feel of the part seems too calculated for that to really work.
If the leads are underwritten then the supporting characters really have problems with the two main baddies being particularly nonthreatening - at no point do you imagine anything other than a happy ending for out lead pair. Not that either of them really try. Spoiler alert Peter Sarsgaard barely can be bothered to phone his performance in - it's closer to having been e-mailed.
Apart from the initial battle on the plane none of the action sequences are even remotely heavy enough to work and it marks a major step back from James Mangold's last picture 3.10 to Yuma. The final five minutes of the film, set in Poploma during the bull run, are preposterous in terms of the carnage shown and offensively illogical when it comes to dispatching of Sarsgaard. All this without any ironic quips which would at least confirm the whole things meant to be a comedy.
It's not the worst film of the year, nor is it the most irritating, but it is a major mistake in just about everyone's CVs and will deservedly be found in supermarket bargain bins before long.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Inception
2010. Dir: Christopher Nolan. Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ellen Page, Tom Hardy and Ken Watanabe. ●●●●○
To misquote Zhuangzi (4th Century BC Chinese Philosopher) "Last night I dreamed I was a butterfly and now I'm now sure if that was Inception". Although given the nature of the films climax that pithy (and not terribly original) start veers awfully close to spoiler territory. Chris Nolan's 7th and most expensive movie to date is all about the nature of our existence and our understanding of how dreams interface with reality.
Or is it?
Nolan has created a universe where accessing and manipulating dreams is a commonplace business, which is both tolerated by the establishment whilst being technically illegal. The main purpose of the procedure is to steal ideas and concepts from within the brain of the subject - it would appear to be generally industrial secrets - although it was strangely originally developed to allow soldiers to practise beating the crap out of each other in their unconscious.
After Leonardo DiCaprio and his right hand man Joseph Gordon-Levitt botch a robbery from the id of Ken Watanabe's Saito, Ken hires them (partly to protect them) to go to the next level and implant an idea into Cillian Murphy's brain. This theoretical implanting process (it's never been done thoroughly successfully) is named Inception. Like in all heist movies we then go through the process of getting a team together with the architect (Page), forger (Hardy) and untitled chemist Dileep Rao joined our band of mercenaries.
During this process the movie goes through the most interesting set pieces, including the folding Parisian street we saw in the trailer and exploding cafe scenes, as this serves as training for Ellen Page the exposition fits nicely into the scenes without feeling too talky. We also get introduced to Marion Cotillard as DiCaprio's deceased wife who's place within his tortured mind may just lead to his downfall.
The majority of the film then takes place in Murphy's dreams (yes that's dreams within dreams within dreams) as the team delve further into the recesses of his mind to place the macguffin of an idea.
As a heist movie Inception works very well. The team compliment and re-inforce each other strengths. The fuzzy action sequences are, at least, an improvement on The Dark Knight and nicely paced even if the stakes never seem as high as they ought to be - if you get killed you go to limbo where your brain works at an incredible rate possibly atrophying the faculties before your physical form wakes up... or something. In fact the film as a whole nips along at a fantastic pace ebbing and flowing in a way that seems both natural and easily carries you along with it.
The cast do good jobs with little to work with. I especially liked Ellen Page for her straightforward delivery of some of the more unlikely lines of dialogue and Tom Hardy for his slightly fey Britishness. Leo is unfortunately coasting on his far more complex performance in Shutter Island where the character had much of the same issues on his mind. Cotillard is icily beautiful as always and I couldn't help wondering what she'd be like as a pure femme fatale in a modern noir that really exploited her passion and poise. The fringe of the movie also holds some nice cameos for Michael Caine, Pete Postlethwaite and Tom Berenger.
The production design is crisp and precise, the way you would expect within the dream world, all tailored suits and new furnishings. The stand-out technical performance goes to Hans Zimmer for his delicious action score, it pounds it's way through the movie as both heart and soul and is an album I have no reticence in recommending.
I am slightly disappointed by the film as it introduces some interesting concepts but then drops them. We are in a world where people become addicted to dreams but this is barely touched upon as is the inevitable psychological effect of spending so much time hopping from dream to dream. There is also a strange lack of surrealism in these dreams, apart from a misplaced train and the ultra-cool hotel fight (which is horrifically justified as being natural consequence of dreams on another layer as opposed to being part of the way dreams are) there is little that doesn't take place in any major blockbuster. The act of Inception itself - snow covered bunker, hospital bed, safe contents - is a nice touch but it's not enough. It hardly seems fair to say that the subconscious of the victim will fight off attacks from a group like this but only allow them guys with guns as a means of defence.
There has also been plenty of Internet chat about whether the final scene is still within a dream and indeed whether the entire film takes place within DiCaprios head. In answer to that whilst the final shot is pleasingly ambiguous and the Mombasa chase sequence seemingly unlikely in reality (tapered alleyways and fortuitous arrivals et al) I find myself caring less and less about the issue as time passes. After all if Nolan doesn't really care about the effect of dreaming on his characters (see my comments above) then why should I?
Overall I would say Inception is a roaring heist movie that will keep you entertained and gripped throughout it's run time, but don't be fooled by the early reviews or solid marketing strategy this is not as clever as it thinks it is.
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
Robin Hood
2010. Dir: Ridley Scott. Starring: Russell Crowe, Cate Blanchett, Max von Sydow, William Hurt and Mark Strong. ●●●○○
Russell Crowe famously exclaimed "Are you entertained?" at the end of his first Gladitorial contest, and whilst I could answer a very definite yes when watching his first collaboration with director Ridley Scott here in Robin Hood I could only say that whilst I was entertained a little it was only sporadically during the film and probably not as much as I should be when watching the 'origin' tale of the bandit of Sherwood forest.
The film starts well with a frantic siege on a French castle, as the virtual bankrupt English King Richard pays for his return to Britain. We are introduced to a bunch of expendable knights and our heroes Robin Longstride (Crowe) and some Merry Men. Not only is this the best action scene in the movie, you can't fail with boiling tar and castle storming, but it also thankfully puts the Robin Hood legend into some historical context. Medieval fiefdoms essentially controlled large parts of the country with the King as only a figurehead that they report to is an important concept to put forward, as well as the appalling levels of violence and political unrest.
We also cut to London where Eleanor of Acquitaine (Eileen Atkins channelling Katherine Hepburn) is attempting to control her wayward son Prince John (the unfeasibly good looking Oscar Isaac) as he cheats on his wife and goads the French king into war. The French King who is in cahoots with John's childhood friend Sir Godfrey (Mark Strong) to attack England at it's weakest.
So far we've spent most of the film with the royal bit characters with Crowe only used as a blatant example of the british heart of oak, naturally historical accuracy helps to balance this out with Richard's untimely death and a number of convoluted twists leading Crowe back to England with the Crown (which he safely delivers to the new king) and the name and Sword of Nottingham's most influential knight.
On returning to the East Midlands he's persuaded by the cantakerous blind father of said deceased knight (Max von Sydow) and the widow Marion (Cate Blanchett) to take his place in order to prevent the state taking their castle - is this a thinly veiled support of Conservative plans to increase the Inheritance tax threshold - and to generally restore order to all of Britain.
On the plus side the script is more coherent than Kingdom of Heaven, Scott's last foray into the Middle Ages, but it does suffer from the same saggyness and lack of humour. At times we appear to be going in circles with superfluous battles and unnecessary plotting - why, for instance, does Robin's lineage have to be both significant to the plot and unknown to Crowe - and on the other hand supporting characters are given no chance to develop themselves. Why does Sir Godfrey want to help the French? Does John really believe the points he's making? Why does William Hurt consumate politician not think before he ever opens his mouth?
I said earlier that the first action scene is the best, I think it's even more fair to say the last is the worst. The invading French army land at some very big cliffs perfect to be rained on by British archers and proceed to just stand their whilst the repelling English army rides across the country to trap them on the beachfront. Of course every speaking character who's still alive joins them. Would it be silly to have Marion and Friar Tuck (a woman and an obese priest) turn up on the South coast to fight the French, of course it would, but there they are...
On the acting side Crowe tries too hard with a wavering accent so comes across the least impressive from the major performances, Blanchett gives a suitable sarcastic performance and Max von Sydow shines in his thankless role. Both Mark Strong and Matthew MacFayden (virtually cameoing as the Sheriff of Nottingham) desperately try to out Rickman each other with both of them coming short.
I suppose that comparison may even be the major issue with the film. Whilst it is a solid piece of film-making (Scott continues to make me believe he's just a hack for hire who lucked out in his early career) it has none of the sexual chemistry, derring-do or fun of either Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves or The Adventures of Robin Hood. The film may be making interesing points about Hood's place in history but it fails to entertain whilst doing it, and that, for such a wonderful folktale, is unforgiveable.
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
The Ghost
2010. Dir: Roman Polanski. Starring: Ewan McGregor, Pierce Brosnan, Kim Cattrall, Olivia Williams and Tom Wilkinson. ●●●●○
One of the curses of a well rounded education and a small exposure to the works of Sigmund Freud is that I tend to over analyse myself. To that end, whilst on one hand I have the perfectly practical reasoning that weekly reviews have been reinstated because the backlog has been dealt with, I think we can all see the subconscious in action as I review Roman Polanski's The Ghost, a critique on the failures of New Labour, especially in relation to foreign policy and anti-terrorism measures, in the week of a general election.
I mention this not only as an insult into the workings of my own mind, but also as a parallel example of how events in he real world can affect artistic decisions. Much too has been made of Polanski's house arrest and how his current situation may have affected the editing of his latest film.
Indeed there are several occasions in the narrative that may be Roman crying out about the mess of the situation. In venom in Kim Cattrall's aide to the former Prime Minister as she spits out "The pack are on the move" in relation to the press. Or Peirce Brosnan's Adam Lang and Ewan McGregor's unnamed ghost writer enforced imprisonment in the Martha's Vineyard mansion that holds most of the action. Of course both of these incident's are lifted directly from Richard Harris' superb source novel but the style and emphasis of these moments - rather then the content - is pure Polanski.
The story is a typical conspiracy thriller. McGregor's anonymous antagonist is surprisingly selected to re-write the ex-British Prime Minster's memoirs following the untimely death of his previous Ghost Writer. He flies to America, entrenching himself with Adam Lang and his wife (Brosnan and Williams) just in time for the European courts to begin proceedings against him for war crimes relating to having knowledge of, and allowing, rendition of terror suspects in order to face torture - it's lucky that America doesn't recognise the International War Crimes Commission, isn't it? Whilst there, with the aid of a couple of university photos, a party membership card and a couple of trips around the island McGregor begins to suspect that Lang may have some very dark secrets and that perhaps his predecessor's death wasn't so accidental.
There is a strange inconsistency in the format of the thriller aspects of the plot. Some clues are given undue attention - the casting of Eli Wallach as a lonely islander seems very odd until you realise he has something very important to say. On the other hand the set-up for the clue in the BMW (product placement aplenty in this film) is superb. The conspiracy itself is also massively flawed, as Robert Pugh former Foreign Minister states in the trailer "Name one decision Lang made in ten years as Prime Minister that wasn't in the interests of the U.S.A." which implicitly indicates it was deliberate not because Lang was weak or misguided.
The two stand-outs in the cast were Brosnan and Williams, both of whom gave fully engaging and dimensional performances. Brosnan in particular should be congratulated for not taking the easy option and impersonating Blair (even though Harris has admitted the character is based on him). The rest of the cast are pretty forgettable, McGregor and Cattrall can't seem to decide what accent their going for and Tom Wilkinson and Timothy Hutton are utterly wasted as Lang's former University colleague and lawyer respectively.
Talking about Harris' novel there are a couple of tweaks towards the end which are diffent. I'm not too keen about the airport scene which in the book has much more to say about Lang's desire to go down in history (there's a moment when he appears to know...). The coda, where the final twist is announced, is far more satisfying dramatically - if a little cheesy - and few could argue that the last shot is the most effective we've seen this year.
Polanski directs the action well, with a palpable tension in the air, aided by the coldness and greyness of the landscape. As with many of his films architecture is vital in sustaining mood, and the presence of the main location is as foreboding and clinical as any prison. So we return to his current lodgings, and the question of whether his art is affected.
Undoutably it is. As undoutably as my review has been timed by my super-ego. Yesterday in British courts six former Guantanamo Bay detainees overturned a ruling that allowed government use of secret evidence to defend itself against a damages claim. Their argument that their illegal detention and torture at Guantanamo was sanctioned, or at least acknowledged, by senior Government Ministers. That's a New Labour Government, a party steeped in socialist values that has eroded civil liberties faster than at any time since the English Civil War, that has widened the gap betwen the rich and the poor and made it harder to bridge that divide, that has created the largest budget deficit in UK history, that has failed to regulate the financial services sector some 2 years after it took us into a recession, that took us into an illegal war and may even have been complicit in toturing innocent men. New Labour has failed. It is indeed time for a change.
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
Shutter Island
2010. Dir: Martin Scorsese. Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, Ben Kingley, Max von Sydow and Michelle Williams. ●●●●○
I'm not much of a reader. Sure, like anyone I can devour an airport paperback in a couple of sittings, but these are few and far between. I spend much more time between books, with dogeared classics drifting around my desk waiting for the first chapter to be tried agian. Occasionally though I make a bit of effort. It could be because I love the author's style (Michael Chabon, J.G Ballard) or because I've heard great things (The Time Traveler's Wife, Curious incident of the dog in the night-time) OR because I hear there's going to be a movie made form it. Which how I came to read Dennis Lehane's Shutter Island.
I hated it.
But that negative experience meant that I could, when the film came out, watch it with a understanding of where the plot was going and pre-warned about the style. Lehane, who specialises in adult crime thrillers (Mystic River and Gone, Baby, Gone have both been sucessfully adapted to the big screen), set out to write a genre piece, a gothic mystery with a dramatic twist. As a novel I felt it didn't work as the ending was too neat, too cliched to be true. Of course it's a film cliche, anyway, so naturally it works better in that medium.
As the film starts we see a ferry coming out of the mist on it's way to the titular island and its maximum security institute for the criminally insane. Before we've had a chance to fully register the characters Marshalls Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) and Chuck Aule (geddit???!!! - Mark Ruffalo) are being thundered away from the dock in an open top jeep to a soundtrack of intense classics.
The plots own macguffin is escaped prisoner Rachel Solando who's miraculously squeezed through her bars and disappered into the inhospital island, and the Marshalls have been called to help track her down. Not that that's the only thing on DiCaprio's mind. Whilst he's there he must find out the truth about the secret mind drugs that sinister phychiatrist's Ben Kingsley and Max von Sydow are dishing out and avenge the murder of his fragile wife Dolores Chanal (Michelle Williams) by the arsonist Andrew Laeddis who may also be, unregistered, in the island. Meanwhile he's suffering from violent headaches, dreaming about his wife's murder, suffering from flashbacks to World War 2. And, to top it all off, there's a big storm coming.
If all of this combined makes it seem like there's an awful lot going on, you're right. But remember most of these events are red herrings. The film is packing in incident and characters to confuse you, to obscure the truth from your vision. Like the fog in the opening, we aren't meant to understand the full implications of the search until that thrid act reveal. Although you could read those last two paragraphs and in effect solve the entire mystery.
Marty knows what he's doing with the story, in what must be his most satisfying film since Goodfellas. The sensibility of the novel and the genre is a ball that Scorsese is more than happy to pick up and run with. Every underlined clue, every musical cue, every jumpy edit seems to be perfectly judged to reinforce the storys central conceit. It is both a pastiche and a modern response to the melodrams of the 40's and 50's where the heroine (usually) begins to doubt her own security and sanity The Spiral Staircase, Gaslight and Sorry, Wrong Number all come to mind.
To that end we also completely forget it's a Scorsese picture, wih it's use of a classical soundtrack and heavy handed symbolism it's about as far away from his past masterpieces as you can imagine. Only the concentration camp shoot out with it's relentless tracking shot is a clue to who you're working with.
In the lead role DiCaprio continues to grow as an actor, able to convey much with a look or a throwaway line. Even the more outre choices - like the completely gonzo scribbling - seem to fit with the characters arc. The way he plays the final scene by the doors of the asylum is incredible, a massive awareness of his situation combined with a confidence about the path he must follow.
I expect in 10 years time we'll look back at this period in DiCaprio's career (with this Inception and Clint Eastwood J. Edgar Hoover biopic) when he truly matured into the greatest actor of his generation
Ben Kingsley also givs a rare performance as the doctor in charge, slipping from playfulness through exasperation to dismissive sometimes within a single speech.
As you would expect in a Scorsese picture the design is solid, with Dante Ferretti's (Casino, Interview with the Vampire) production design inside Robert Richardson's (Inglorious Basterds, Powder Keg) lens meaning every frame is a piece of art.
Overall this is a wonderful throwback to the films of yore, only let down by it's lack of ambition, with no commentary about the world outside of the film.
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
Alice in Wonderland
2010. Dir: Tim Burton. Starring: Mia Wasikowska, Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Anne Hathaway and Crispin Glover. ●●●○○
Back on the 5th March the 2010 year of film really started, sure I had seen 8 films in cinemas already, but Alice in Wonderland was the first of my top 20 films for 2010, it was among the elite that had sparked my attention before the year had even vaguely begun. I am sad to say that it was also the first minor disappointment from that list.
Effectively this is a sequel to Lewis Carroll's well-loved children's nonsense novels in which Tim Burton - notably backed by Disney - returned Alice (Mia Wasikowska - Defiance) to a Underland torn apart with civil strife. With Alice recast as a saviour to the populace, forever destined to slay the Jabberwocky.
It all begins with an utterly pointless and ill-conceived bookend involving a snotty suitor proposing to Alice in front of a crowd of unpleasant toffs. Naturally these segments are there to show how our heroine fails to fit into the real world, and how she grows in confidence to be able to confront these caricatures by the end of the film. It's a dreadful idea but at least it's mercilly quick.
Running away from the problem leads Alice to fall back down the rabbit hole, having forgotten her previous visit she falls into the same mistakes (drinking, eating, leaving keys on tables etc.) as the last time, only without the buckets of tears. Of course she meets all the characters we know and love from the books, including the Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp), The Red and White Queens (Helena Bonham Carter and Anne Hathaway) and The Cheshire Cat (Stephen Fry), as well as a host of British establishment actors in the other roles (Matt Lucas, Michael Sheen, Alan Rickman, Timothy Spall, Imelda Staunton).
This being a 3D kids film there then follows a few chase scenes, some silly jokes and pointy things being pointed at the camera to prove the 3D works. There are some moments of mild peril - crossing the moat or the final confrontation - but on the whole these are pretty tame due to the target audience.
It's hard to know whether it hit the right balance, in excess of $300m in the U.S. receipts seems to indicate it got it right, even when adjusted for 3D premiums. Personally I would have liked to have seen a much scarier version - I think kids can take a lot more fears than we give them credit for - maybe even to the level of Pan's Labyrinth or Tideland both of which clearly owe a debt to Carroll's work. Perhaps a little less action would have been preferable as well. I've found that following too many chase sequences together can be really boring.
On the plus side the design, as you would expect from a Burton film, is fantastic with Art director Stefan Dechant (Avatar) proving once again that he can master an imaginery world. Colleen Atwood's (Silence of the Lambs, Big Fish) costumes were also first class, although frankly I would have been surprised if she hadn't pulled it off here.
I would also like to congratulate two of the performers who really stood out for me, and I don't include Johnny Depp whose performance was utterly baffling. The first was a triumph of casting in Barbara Windsor as the Dormouse, capturing the fierceness of the animated character (even if it wasn't in keeping with the origins). The second was Helena Bonham Carter, who clearly relished in every moment of her screentime, some of her line readings were absolutely delicious ("I do like a fat pig to keep my feet warm", anyone?) and i would glady watch the film again just to see her.
Overall I would say this was a missed opportunity, but enough moments work for it to be worth a visit.
