Saw Inkheart, since there were ripples on the kid-lit circuit about it, but I didn’t like the premise that much so I thought I’d wait for the movie. Indeed, you had to really accept a lot of silly things, like the way only worthy literary sources were included. Seriously, all the protagonists had to do was get a Superman novelisation, read him into being and all their problems would be dealt with quite easily. It would’ve been an interesting power to see taken to extremes, but that wasn’t how the story went, and it made the whole thing seem quite shallow.
Still, it was lovely visually, the thief and the daughter were quite adorable characters, Andy Serkis and Jim Broadbent gave lazy but effective performances and Brendan Fraser was more likeable than in The Mummy (plus seeing him on Graham Norton afterwards helped). Paul Bettany was great as always.
Tuesday 28 June 2011
Saturday 25 June 2011
Australia
Went to see Baz Luhrmann’s Australia, starring Hugh Jackman and Nicole Kidman. The film may not have been the masterpiece some were expecting, but it’s well worth seeing and extremely entertaining. Its only real problem is pacing, because it tries to do so much – it is at times light-hearted fish-out-of-water comedy in the vein of The King and I, sweeping war epic, society/revenge drama, willingly old-fashioned romantic weepy and curious but unsatisfying racial commentary. Which is a lot to attempt, even for a mammoth 2¾-hour production. This results in about five false endings, some rather unsatisfying clashes of style and some parts that drag terribly. However, with Kidman’s pitch-perfect performance, Jackman’s easy charm, a stunning performance from the little aboriginal boy at the heart of the movie and those incomparably piercing eyes of his mystic grandfather, fittingly played by the guy from Walkabout, with some hilarious comedy (Kidman’s impression of someone who can’t really sing is utter brilliance) and genuinely touching self-sacrifice, with great expanses of land, intimate moments between uncertain families and breathtaking war scenes all realised with Luhrmann’s usual eye for beauty and scale, there is so much to admire, and even more so than in Moulin Rouge or even Romeo + Juliet, the director manages to bridge exaggerated comedy and touching realism remarkably well for a single film.
It has problems: the treatment of spirituality and race doesn’t satisfy, for while there are slightly cheesy but forceful scenes condemning segregation and the ‘stolen generations’, there’s a typical ‘magical negro’ and a certain pandering tone to the rendering of aboriginal magic, which comes across as patronising. The old-fashioned charm and stylised first act have something of a distancing effect. And the antagonist is just a little too overblown.
In all, though, an impressive film well worth seeing.
It has problems: the treatment of spirituality and race doesn’t satisfy, for while there are slightly cheesy but forceful scenes condemning segregation and the ‘stolen generations’, there’s a typical ‘magical negro’ and a certain pandering tone to the rendering of aboriginal magic, which comes across as patronising. The old-fashioned charm and stylised first act have something of a distancing effect. And the antagonist is just a little too overblown.
In all, though, an impressive film well worth seeing.
Friday 24 June 2011
Ohayou
Ozu’s Ohayou was for such a respected artist pretty lowbrow, but as good as I can imagine a lowbrow family comedy from late fifties Japan could be, fart jokes aside. It had an adorable little kid (going ‘Ai rabu yuu!’ all the time), clever indirect comedy between the adults, some wonderful shots and cuts, and some really funny moments. I really like Ozu.
Thursday 23 June 2011
Valkyrie
It was a remarkably good film, tense and compelling throughout despite the lack of actual action. It centred on a real-life plot by German officials who opposed the Third Reich attempting to assassinate Hitler from within, risking execution and the safety of their families attempting a coup. This is really a triumph for all involved, Brian Singer just as much as his cast, including Tom Cruise, Bill Nighy and Tom Wilkinson, managing to transcend expectations of middlebrow action-thriller to make a worthy and actually rather impressive historical movie, again with this strange idea that if you have British and American actors at once, you can get away with the idea that they’re from some other country. Which you can. Also had Eddie Izzard in, which I didn’t realise until later, and Kenneth Brannagh in an interesting lesser role. Hitler was made a little excessively sinister, however.
Wednesday 22 June 2011
Ozu’s End of Summer
End of Summer, which I wasn’t quite so keen on as his other works: it had charm and the father figure in the central family (titular in the original Japanese) was an interesting central presence, but overall it was a strange little slice of life, typically Ozu in many ways but also too brief, too superficial, almost careless and formulaic, which is very unusual for him.
Frost/Nixon
Frost/Nixon was good. It was fanciful and it didn’t take long afterwards to confirm what I had suspected about artistic licence, and Martin Sheen made Frost really quite hard to like, but as a drama it was powerful and engaging. Nixon comes off as a much more sympathetic person than I had expected.
Sunday 19 June 2011
The Boat That Rocked
A pretty mediocre film, really. Richard Curtis’ idea of edgy, sexy DJs just got on my nerves, all of them sexless and cruel, most of them seeming like bigger arseholes than that pantomime-dame politician played by Kenneth Brannagh. A Radio Caroline-esque pirate radio boat broadcasts rock music, against mounting political opposition despite public affection. A predictable ending is moving nonetheless, but there’s no heart to the story. Some peripheral characters are entertaining but the major ones lack any likeable qualities, and I couldn’t stop thinking how much the whiny main boy looked like Trent Reznor.
Friday 17 June 2011
17 Again
While it wasn’t in any way a profound or elegant film, as a bit of light entertainment and fun, it was far better-done than I had been anticipating. I have never hated Zack Efron: I found the first High School Musical silly, highly camp fun that failed to irritate or enervate me, and didn’t watch any of the others. He was a cute, inoffensive kid in it, only slightly annoying because of the smug way the character was written. Here, in his star vehicle, he’s allowed to play to his strengths. He’s clearly genuinely good at basketball, has a body worth showing off yet thankfully put away within the opening minutes, and the section of his audience that wants to see him dance is similarly acknowledged and dismissed in a brisk, neat fashion. That gives way to a sprightly script in which Efron is allowed to demonstrate that he actually can act, isn’t above making himself look awkward, geeky or an object of ridicule, and showcases a talent for comic timing and natural delivery of lines. Well done Efron. Add in a cast of likeable minor characters, some instances of pushing the squeaky-clean image just a little and you get a satisfying film. Not life-changing, but well worth seeing.
Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros/The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros
Curiosity about the presentation of preteen sexuality and the desire to actually listen to Tagalog in a context other than a friend talking to his mother on the phone made me watch this, and in the end, it almost, almost won me over. Ultimately, I am in two minds about the film, and indeed ended up thinking of it as two different stories.
The first was a character study of preening, feminine Maxi, whereas the latter is a melodramatic, overwrought crime drama. From a cursory glance over the reviews on Rottentomatoes.com, it seems critics have applauded the former while decrying the cliché of the latter, whereas for me, I found myself experiencing the reverse.
I didn’t like the first forty minutes. I liked just one scene, a neatly-observed slice-of-life comedy scene about the pronunciation of an English film title. Otherwise…I did not like Maxi and found his life very contrived. I can only assume Maxi is a culturally accurate depiction of a gay boy at the beginning of adolescence in the Philippines. From what I have read, the prevailing mould for gay people there is transsexuality, the idea of being a woman trapped in a man’s body, and being extremely feminine is the only acceptable way to behave as a gay man on the islands. As such, I found Maxi somewhat repulsive, swaggering around in an ugly caricature of a queen, taking part in outrageous drag competitions, wearing glittery hairbands and generally being a limp-wristed stereotype. His family of small-time criminals’ complete acceptance of him worked, but generally their situation seemed much too tenuous. There was no way to believe their lives would just drift along to this point, and then suddenly explode into bizarre directions just because of a new cop in town.
There is a turning point roughly halfway through where the cop, Victor, a man who looks unnervingly like the lovechild of two of my friends, tells Maxi he likes girls who are ‘simple’. This prompts Maxi to stop acting so outrageously, and he starts to dress more boyishly and behave naturally, at last letting down the walls of contrivance that prevent the connection with him as a character. This happens to coincide with a shift towards the film’s actual plot, and the second ‘story’ begins. This is a crime melodrama about a wanted man and his family’s attempts to protect him from the law. It’s overblown, histrionic and very silly, but that makes it good entertainment. Maxi is pulled between his unrequited love (Victor’s sexuality or attraction to Maxi never being wholly clear, early affection being quite possibly done without any thought of the boy’s possible feelings) and his loyalty to his family. It’s all extremely over-the-top, but that only makes it satisfying viewing.
The film looks cheap, shot without expensive cameras and cinematography, but that in some strange way helps with the atmosphere of authenticity and poverty, helps make believable the happy-go-lucky but squalid slum lifestyle. The soundtrack is great, full of sprightly, tongue-in-cheek songs. The performances generally have the sensitivity of the better end of arthouse cinema, although with a plot so melodramatic, of course there are parts where it all goes too far. Generally, not taking the film too seriously will make for an enjoyable, charming time.
The first was a character study of preening, feminine Maxi, whereas the latter is a melodramatic, overwrought crime drama. From a cursory glance over the reviews on Rottentomatoes.com, it seems critics have applauded the former while decrying the cliché of the latter, whereas for me, I found myself experiencing the reverse.
I didn’t like the first forty minutes. I liked just one scene, a neatly-observed slice-of-life comedy scene about the pronunciation of an English film title. Otherwise…I did not like Maxi and found his life very contrived. I can only assume Maxi is a culturally accurate depiction of a gay boy at the beginning of adolescence in the Philippines. From what I have read, the prevailing mould for gay people there is transsexuality, the idea of being a woman trapped in a man’s body, and being extremely feminine is the only acceptable way to behave as a gay man on the islands. As such, I found Maxi somewhat repulsive, swaggering around in an ugly caricature of a queen, taking part in outrageous drag competitions, wearing glittery hairbands and generally being a limp-wristed stereotype. His family of small-time criminals’ complete acceptance of him worked, but generally their situation seemed much too tenuous. There was no way to believe their lives would just drift along to this point, and then suddenly explode into bizarre directions just because of a new cop in town.
There is a turning point roughly halfway through where the cop, Victor, a man who looks unnervingly like the lovechild of two of my friends, tells Maxi he likes girls who are ‘simple’. This prompts Maxi to stop acting so outrageously, and he starts to dress more boyishly and behave naturally, at last letting down the walls of contrivance that prevent the connection with him as a character. This happens to coincide with a shift towards the film’s actual plot, and the second ‘story’ begins. This is a crime melodrama about a wanted man and his family’s attempts to protect him from the law. It’s overblown, histrionic and very silly, but that makes it good entertainment. Maxi is pulled between his unrequited love (Victor’s sexuality or attraction to Maxi never being wholly clear, early affection being quite possibly done without any thought of the boy’s possible feelings) and his loyalty to his family. It’s all extremely over-the-top, but that only makes it satisfying viewing.
The film looks cheap, shot without expensive cameras and cinematography, but that in some strange way helps with the atmosphere of authenticity and poverty, helps make believable the happy-go-lucky but squalid slum lifestyle. The soundtrack is great, full of sprightly, tongue-in-cheek songs. The performances generally have the sensitivity of the better end of arthouse cinema, although with a plot so melodramatic, of course there are parts where it all goes too far. Generally, not taking the film too seriously will make for an enjoyable, charming time.
The Proposal
I didn’t know anything about this film when I went to see it, not remembering until later that I had seen a trailer, and noted that in the audience of about twenty, there was only one other male in sight. This was a rom-com, and while couples might see it in the evening, at lunch it was almost entirely giggling girls.
It wasn’t a bad film at all, but very forgettable, the kind of thing I’d put on in the background or watch in a plane. It was just very formulaic, an entertaining prospect (high-powered, steely city worker is going to be deported, but saves herself from a career crash by saying she will marry her assistant) carried through with torpid inevitability and stock characters (loving mother and stern father at odds with his son, evil immigrations officer and comedy foreigner). On the other hand, there was enough charm and humour, with Sandra Bullock slowly softening as she deals with crazy dogs and dotty but brilliant old women, that it was by no means a chore.
I did, however, find myself wishing that they hadn’t taken the easy route and made Reynolds’ character part of a rich family. If the cynical power-dressing office witch had softened surrounded by a normal, unremarkable family in a modest house and filling all the negative expectations she had built up about people less well-off than her, it would perhaps have been a little challenging and interesting. As it was, Bullock’s character is intoxicated by beautiful surroundings, valuable heirlooms and…well, speedboats. Rikk went so far as to say that if not for the money, the character would never have fallen for Reynolds’, and it’s a real shame (as well as somewhat sexist) to think that the girl would never grow to change her mind and fall in love if not for money.
It wasn’t a bad film at all, but very forgettable, the kind of thing I’d put on in the background or watch in a plane. It was just very formulaic, an entertaining prospect (high-powered, steely city worker is going to be deported, but saves herself from a career crash by saying she will marry her assistant) carried through with torpid inevitability and stock characters (loving mother and stern father at odds with his son, evil immigrations officer and comedy foreigner). On the other hand, there was enough charm and humour, with Sandra Bullock slowly softening as she deals with crazy dogs and dotty but brilliant old women, that it was by no means a chore.
I did, however, find myself wishing that they hadn’t taken the easy route and made Reynolds’ character part of a rich family. If the cynical power-dressing office witch had softened surrounded by a normal, unremarkable family in a modest house and filling all the negative expectations she had built up about people less well-off than her, it would perhaps have been a little challenging and interesting. As it was, Bullock’s character is intoxicated by beautiful surroundings, valuable heirlooms and…well, speedboats. Rikk went so far as to say that if not for the money, the character would never have fallen for Reynolds’, and it’s a real shame (as well as somewhat sexist) to think that the girl would never grow to change her mind and fall in love if not for money.
Thursday 16 June 2011
Brüno
For the third time, Sacha Baron Cohen took one of his characters to the big screen (he’ll have to actually come up with some new ones from now on), and for the third time they just didn’t work as well over a feature film. Brüno is a great character for a sketch show, exposing the hypocrisy of the fashion world and the prejudices of insecure and ignorant people confronted by homosexuality. In a full film, though, you don’t just have one strong gag, but a narrative and a character at the centre of it. Borat was a hit because for all his prejudices, grotesque habits and stupidity, he was likeable and sympathetic. You can even get on Ali G’s side. But Brüno is so self-centred, ignorant, vain and sociopathic, and the act so much more transparent, that you never grow to like him or care what happens next. So while there are outrageous moments, big laughs and some setpieces where you realise that Sasha Baron Cohen is genuinely putting himself in real danger, the film actually gets quite dull – and most of the biggest laughs were given away in the trailer anyway.
And the humour is getting tired now. In Borat, there was a degree of shock that people could actually think that someone from Eastern Europe would act the way the title character does, and surprise at the degree of prejudice confronting a person that the people he meets believes is genuinely that way. You don’t get that with Brüno. There are people who act like him (there were two on the train yesterday on the way to the Michael Jackson vigil in the 02, German guys playing into exactly the same limp-wristed clichés) but there’s always an impression of artificiality there anyway. The genius of Borat was that naked wrestling aside, what he did wasn’t all that outrageous. He transgressed social norms just a little, just enough to outrage but not enough for the illusion to break. But the revelation that covering a baby with bees, going to a straight guy’s tent naked and making advances, rolling around almost naked with another guy when people expect wrestling, trivialising the conflicts in the Middle East and the rest of it will insult? Well, big deal. Slowly getting fashion designers to flatly contradict themselves is pretty clever. Making Bible Belt Americans angry by showing them homosexual activity? Doesn’t take any cleverness at all.
And the humour is getting tired now. In Borat, there was a degree of shock that people could actually think that someone from Eastern Europe would act the way the title character does, and surprise at the degree of prejudice confronting a person that the people he meets believes is genuinely that way. You don’t get that with Brüno. There are people who act like him (there were two on the train yesterday on the way to the Michael Jackson vigil in the 02, German guys playing into exactly the same limp-wristed clichés) but there’s always an impression of artificiality there anyway. The genius of Borat was that naked wrestling aside, what he did wasn’t all that outrageous. He transgressed social norms just a little, just enough to outrage but not enough for the illusion to break. But the revelation that covering a baby with bees, going to a straight guy’s tent naked and making advances, rolling around almost naked with another guy when people expect wrestling, trivialising the conflicts in the Middle East and the rest of it will insult? Well, big deal. Slowly getting fashion designers to flatly contradict themselves is pretty clever. Making Bible Belt Americans angry by showing them homosexual activity? Doesn’t take any cleverness at all.
Walkabout
Watched Walkabout, since it was on iPlayer and I’ve heard fairly often what a classic film it is, mostly in the same breath as ‘And, y’know, 16-year-old Jenny Agutter naked’. In fact, I thought it was a very immature, gimmicky and poorly-crafted piece of work. What it has going for it is beauty, reflecting Roeg’s background as a cinematographer, with a great many beautifully-composed shots and awe-inspiring locations. There’s something appealing about Agutter, too, something about her airy aloofness that makes her seem ethereal, disconnected from the world around her, and she certainly has a great deal of beauty.
But the film is just undeveloped, juvenile and shallow. From the hallucinogenic and inexplicable opening scenes to the realisation that the aboriginal boy will never be more than a bizarre spectacle and that we will never learn anything significant about the walkabout beyond what we see, everything is rushed, vague and flimsy. Proponents of the film will argue that its vagueness is poetic, deep, profound; I can’t escape the image of Roeg throwing things together haphazardly, clutching at sophistication but never bothering to do the thinking required. When you see the utterly brainless juxtapositions of aboriginal hunting and the Western meat industry, or brick walls and cliff faces, I don’t see how you can think that that sort of subtlety is part of an overall piece of depth and intelligence. As for the nude scenes, they are unnecessary and exploitative, as lowbrow as any overt pornography, and the fact that I think that everything I’ve ever seen Agutter in beyond The Railway Children has featured her pubic hair utterly removes the novelty, even if nowadays the scene would incur charges of child pornography.
But the film is just undeveloped, juvenile and shallow. From the hallucinogenic and inexplicable opening scenes to the realisation that the aboriginal boy will never be more than a bizarre spectacle and that we will never learn anything significant about the walkabout beyond what we see, everything is rushed, vague and flimsy. Proponents of the film will argue that its vagueness is poetic, deep, profound; I can’t escape the image of Roeg throwing things together haphazardly, clutching at sophistication but never bothering to do the thinking required. When you see the utterly brainless juxtapositions of aboriginal hunting and the Western meat industry, or brick walls and cliff faces, I don’t see how you can think that that sort of subtlety is part of an overall piece of depth and intelligence. As for the nude scenes, they are unnecessary and exploitative, as lowbrow as any overt pornography, and the fact that I think that everything I’ve ever seen Agutter in beyond The Railway Children has featured her pubic hair utterly removes the novelty, even if nowadays the scene would incur charges of child pornography.
The Wind in the Willows, directed by Terry Jones
After finishing the book, I was quite keen to watch this particular adaptation. After all, it had performances from all the surviving Pythons bar Terry Gilliam, who after all was never all that often in front of the camera.
After seeing it, I have mixed opinions. In some ways, it was a very good adaptation, taking the episodic book and making a coherent single story, with strong performances and a powerful directorial voice. But at the same time, this last part was the problem – making it The Wind in the Willows with Jones’ sensibilities changed the tone in rather the wrong direction. There’s a gentleness and dignity about Grahame’s world and a frenetic hectic quality to Jones’ that don’t sit well together. Grahame’s animals have strange but somewhat inspiring spiritual experiences and bond over the rescuing of little children, while Jones seems to think weird talking suns and clocks and weasels who for some reason can detach and swap around body parts will sit well between pleasant scenes of riverboating and picnics. Especially towards the end, with huge explosions poorly shoved into the plot and giant automated meathooks, it’s clear that Jones is simply trying too hard, and while there’s something rather odd about the way the book’s final crisis is resolved by a show of violence, it retains a certain sense of heroism and dignity. Jones, unfortunately, tries far too hard to be zany and to amuse the kids, and ends up just seeming desperate.
There are some messy points in the plot, too. Toad not actually needing to dress up as a washerwoman at all is a trifle odd, as he is after all such a coward that the idea he wants to escape with panache rings somewhat false, and the fact that the weasels more or less sorted themselves out meant that the heroes’ presence was pointless.
The courtroom scene, oft-played as a clip because of Cleese and Fry, is a real highlight, though.
The casting wasn’t quite perfect. Steve Coogan is just too skinny, young and clever-looking to be dumpy, friendly, humble little Mole, and Williamson didn’t have the bulk or gravitas for Badger. Jones himself as Toad worked at times but others did not, capturing his pride and pomposity perfectly but not his manipulative wheedling or his genuine childish enthusiasm. The part where he convinces himself to steal the motorcar is simply creepy, and while Grahame specifies that the toad has hair, I think Jones had a little too much, which oddly did a lot to stop him looking very toad-like. The only time he looked spot-on was in his large driving goggles.
And then there was Eric Idle as the Rat. I must confess that my mental image of Ratty is actually Idle, or very like him. Visually and vocally he is perfect. But…the performance seemed off to me. He was too brash, too forceful and too dominant for contemplative, poetic and earthy Rat. If he’d just seemed a little more thoughtful…
But these are rather personal thoughts. It’s not a classic adaptation and certainly not definitive. But still fun.
After seeing it, I have mixed opinions. In some ways, it was a very good adaptation, taking the episodic book and making a coherent single story, with strong performances and a powerful directorial voice. But at the same time, this last part was the problem – making it The Wind in the Willows with Jones’ sensibilities changed the tone in rather the wrong direction. There’s a gentleness and dignity about Grahame’s world and a frenetic hectic quality to Jones’ that don’t sit well together. Grahame’s animals have strange but somewhat inspiring spiritual experiences and bond over the rescuing of little children, while Jones seems to think weird talking suns and clocks and weasels who for some reason can detach and swap around body parts will sit well between pleasant scenes of riverboating and picnics. Especially towards the end, with huge explosions poorly shoved into the plot and giant automated meathooks, it’s clear that Jones is simply trying too hard, and while there’s something rather odd about the way the book’s final crisis is resolved by a show of violence, it retains a certain sense of heroism and dignity. Jones, unfortunately, tries far too hard to be zany and to amuse the kids, and ends up just seeming desperate.
There are some messy points in the plot, too. Toad not actually needing to dress up as a washerwoman at all is a trifle odd, as he is after all such a coward that the idea he wants to escape with panache rings somewhat false, and the fact that the weasels more or less sorted themselves out meant that the heroes’ presence was pointless.
The courtroom scene, oft-played as a clip because of Cleese and Fry, is a real highlight, though.
The casting wasn’t quite perfect. Steve Coogan is just too skinny, young and clever-looking to be dumpy, friendly, humble little Mole, and Williamson didn’t have the bulk or gravitas for Badger. Jones himself as Toad worked at times but others did not, capturing his pride and pomposity perfectly but not his manipulative wheedling or his genuine childish enthusiasm. The part where he convinces himself to steal the motorcar is simply creepy, and while Grahame specifies that the toad has hair, I think Jones had a little too much, which oddly did a lot to stop him looking very toad-like. The only time he looked spot-on was in his large driving goggles.
And then there was Eric Idle as the Rat. I must confess that my mental image of Ratty is actually Idle, or very like him. Visually and vocally he is perfect. But…the performance seemed off to me. He was too brash, too forceful and too dominant for contemplative, poetic and earthy Rat. If he’d just seemed a little more thoughtful…
But these are rather personal thoughts. It’s not a classic adaptation and certainly not definitive. But still fun.
Inglourious Basterds
Tarantino’s latest. I have to say I wasn’t expecting much. The Kill Bill films were a mess, schlocky and cheesy tributes to forms of cinema in a way that inherently could not have their charm. Tarantino’s niche, I felt, was in stylised gangster films with snappy, naturalistic dialogue. That’s what I wanted him to return to. So when I read that Inglourious Basterds, with its daft title, was about ass-whoopin’, Nazi-killin’ yanks in occupation-era France hatching a plot to blow up Hitler in a way that seemed a parody of Valkyrie while foiling an evil SS officer called The Jew Hunter, I only expected crap.
Surprising, then, that this was a very good film. It was exaggerated, yes, but at least paying tribute to spaghetti westerns fitted the story and is still pretty cool in the current zeitgeist. True, some decisions were questionable – we really didn’t need scratchy arrows pointing out who certain characters were onscreen, Samuel L Jackson’s voiceovers were distracting and were there only for his gravitas, not because his voice fitted, and only by the skin of his teeth did Mike Myers’ cameo stay the right side of farce, which doesn’t sit well beside genuinely harrowing films.
But at the same time, there is so much to like here. ‘Chapter 1’ is simply an incredibly moving piece of film, the painful sight of a cat toying with its prey, and throughout, Christopher Waltz gives a superb performance, equally chilling and charming, acting excellently in four languages – he ought to be the breakout star here. Brad Pitt does a great turn as a meathead from Tennessee, and the humour he provides is exactly right for the film.
Not everything is so perfect, though. Giving the plot some thought, you come to realise that the Basterds were totally unnecessary to the assassination plot’s final outcome, and indeed made it worse, giving Landa a chance to enact a plan that he would not have been able to put into action had the Jewish girl acted alone. Still, Tarantino delivers some extremely powerful scenes, incredible performances and, for enthusiasts, a hilarious pastiche of Third Reich cinema with his film-within-a-film. Much to like here.
Surprising, then, that this was a very good film. It was exaggerated, yes, but at least paying tribute to spaghetti westerns fitted the story and is still pretty cool in the current zeitgeist. True, some decisions were questionable – we really didn’t need scratchy arrows pointing out who certain characters were onscreen, Samuel L Jackson’s voiceovers were distracting and were there only for his gravitas, not because his voice fitted, and only by the skin of his teeth did Mike Myers’ cameo stay the right side of farce, which doesn’t sit well beside genuinely harrowing films.
But at the same time, there is so much to like here. ‘Chapter 1’ is simply an incredibly moving piece of film, the painful sight of a cat toying with its prey, and throughout, Christopher Waltz gives a superb performance, equally chilling and charming, acting excellently in four languages – he ought to be the breakout star here. Brad Pitt does a great turn as a meathead from Tennessee, and the humour he provides is exactly right for the film.
Not everything is so perfect, though. Giving the plot some thought, you come to realise that the Basterds were totally unnecessary to the assassination plot’s final outcome, and indeed made it worse, giving Landa a chance to enact a plan that he would not have been able to put into action had the Jewish girl acted alone. Still, Tarantino delivers some extremely powerful scenes, incredible performances and, for enthusiasts, a hilarious pastiche of Third Reich cinema with his film-within-a-film. Much to like here.
The Soloist
I had expected rather a poor film from it’s 54% positive aggregate reviews on RottonTomatoes.com (half a year ago; damn they keep things delayed for the UK market), but actually found it to be a rather good film that could have been better than it was, mostly because of strange directorial decisions, and that great pitfall of making a drama out of live-action featuring the living, trying to find a satisfying conclusion to a story that after all has not finished, which will not end up in denouncements and suing.
Robert Downey Jr. is excellent, making Lopez sympathetic and comprehensible, although we really didn’t need comic scenes involving urine (yes, ‘scenes’, plural) to get on his side, which seemed too slapstick and hard to believe. Jamie Foxx was convincing and able to carry off both the vulnerability and frightening ‘otherness’ of Ayers, although I wish the filmmakers had taken just that little bit more time to make him more convincingly look like he was really playing the cello like a virtuoso. All you would need would be a shot or two.
And this is the problem. Just a little bit more care and attention would have improved the whole greatly. Another draft of the script to hone it and give it direction. Someone to rein in director Joe Wright, who perhaps flush with the success of Atonement shows off with some painfully inadequate and 70s-esque attempts to show onscreen what synaesthesia looks like (great flashing blobs shown for far too long) and what it’s like to be a schizophrenic (it would seem that it is like a strange television channel airing looped footage of a baby crying while several voices talk at once), and those flourishes became one of my real gripes. The way that Lopez could walk through seriously depraved areas of New York, leave his car in the road, walk past fights and have nothing more happen to him than nasty looks, not to mention not a single scratch being left on the car, also didn’t quite work.
These are not major concerns, though, and the film as a whole is good. It just seldom really feels heartfelt, more an Oscar ploy than a story that needed to be told, which with this sort of subject matter, is what you need. It also suffers from not really establishing its world – we don’t really get to see what exactly the reader of the column is told about Ayers, how much of the abrupt flashbacks Lopez knows at any given time, what Ayers does between being something of a redemptive ‘Magical Negro’ figure. And that is a shame.
Robert Downey Jr. is excellent, making Lopez sympathetic and comprehensible, although we really didn’t need comic scenes involving urine (yes, ‘scenes’, plural) to get on his side, which seemed too slapstick and hard to believe. Jamie Foxx was convincing and able to carry off both the vulnerability and frightening ‘otherness’ of Ayers, although I wish the filmmakers had taken just that little bit more time to make him more convincingly look like he was really playing the cello like a virtuoso. All you would need would be a shot or two.
And this is the problem. Just a little bit more care and attention would have improved the whole greatly. Another draft of the script to hone it and give it direction. Someone to rein in director Joe Wright, who perhaps flush with the success of Atonement shows off with some painfully inadequate and 70s-esque attempts to show onscreen what synaesthesia looks like (great flashing blobs shown for far too long) and what it’s like to be a schizophrenic (it would seem that it is like a strange television channel airing looped footage of a baby crying while several voices talk at once), and those flourishes became one of my real gripes. The way that Lopez could walk through seriously depraved areas of New York, leave his car in the road, walk past fights and have nothing more happen to him than nasty looks, not to mention not a single scratch being left on the car, also didn’t quite work.
These are not major concerns, though, and the film as a whole is good. It just seldom really feels heartfelt, more an Oscar ploy than a story that needed to be told, which with this sort of subject matter, is what you need. It also suffers from not really establishing its world – we don’t really get to see what exactly the reader of the column is told about Ayers, how much of the abrupt flashbacks Lopez knows at any given time, what Ayers does between being something of a redemptive ‘Magical Negro’ figure. And that is a shame.
District 9
District 9 actually reminded me a lot of recent comic books, or even seinen anime. When it opens, the sci-fi concept may have a few rolling their eyes. In an extended exposition section full of pastiches of documentary and news reporting styles, we learn an alien spacecraft hovers over Jo’burg, South Africa. It is full of malnourished, dying aliens who have no way of getting home after their command module fell to earth. They are moved down to the surface and over twenty years, their containment facility becomes a slum, with all the problems of a ghetto. It’s all a bit of an obvious allegory for Apartheid and general racial tolerance. But then this simple idea is built upon with a very human story about a rather detestable human being put into the position of a fugitive and then a hero, and it is done with such seriousness and focus on character that it becomes compelling, and by the time it becomes a rather awesome action film, it’s pure entertainment and extremely satisfying in its final scenes and open questions.
Surrogates
To the cinema to see Surrogates, the Bruce Willis sci-fi vehicle that oddly for such a high-budget film has had next to no marketing here in the UK, and a rather poor reception.
Perhaps after a poor US box office taking, the studio declared the film a flop and refused to spend money marketing it here. Which is a shame, for while it is by no means an original film, it’s a smart, stylish and interesting action flick with little in the way of depth but solid momentum, a good whodunit I failed to see right through and an interesting moral choice for the protagonist at the end. It portrays a near-future society where almost all of humanity uses a ‘surrogate’, or robotic avatar, to travel the real world, living out fantasies of beauty and decadence from the safety of remote control. But when someone kills the son of the ‘father of surrogates’ via his machine, a police chief begins to unravel a net of intrigue that could endanger everyone who uses such a machine.
I thought that sort of idea was original and clever in 2001, or whenever it was I thought about putting it into a book, as I’ve mentioned every time a similar concept comes along, but as you might be able to tell from how I phrased that, in a world where there Second Life can lead to a divorce and where people die playing World of Warcraft for too long, it’s become somewhat overdone. If this film had been adapted more quickly from its 2005 comic book source, perhaps it would have seemed more original, but has reached the realms of somewhat passé now. Still, what is important in this sort of case is the execution rather than the real strength of the concept, and the film does it quite well. With makeup, the surrogates are made to look not quite real, and there’s something fun about seeing real actors purposely put in the ‘uncanny valley’. Willis’ character is somewhat wooden but likeable (and kept reminding me of Jordan Rudess), and the central antagonist, in all his forms, is rather an interesting man.
The problems really are with the lack of depth. We see how this surrogate thing works in cities in America, but if 98% of the population are using them, what about rural communities and the Third World? How are they paid for? Why isn’t there crime for surrogates or more piracy and bizarre modifications? If they are used in the military, why aren’t they made better than human, to a far greater extent than is shown? Crime is supposedly down 99%, but wouldn’t people end up being more careless about property and take greater risks? I just found that not enough of the questions the film raised got answered. The ending was also somewhat contrived and the skimpy backgrounds that the characters were given seemed like they were made for a creative writing class.
Overall, not a bad film at all, but hardly one that will be remembered as a classic.
Perhaps after a poor US box office taking, the studio declared the film a flop and refused to spend money marketing it here. Which is a shame, for while it is by no means an original film, it’s a smart, stylish and interesting action flick with little in the way of depth but solid momentum, a good whodunit I failed to see right through and an interesting moral choice for the protagonist at the end. It portrays a near-future society where almost all of humanity uses a ‘surrogate’, or robotic avatar, to travel the real world, living out fantasies of beauty and decadence from the safety of remote control. But when someone kills the son of the ‘father of surrogates’ via his machine, a police chief begins to unravel a net of intrigue that could endanger everyone who uses such a machine.
I thought that sort of idea was original and clever in 2001, or whenever it was I thought about putting it into a book, as I’ve mentioned every time a similar concept comes along, but as you might be able to tell from how I phrased that, in a world where there Second Life can lead to a divorce and where people die playing World of Warcraft for too long, it’s become somewhat overdone. If this film had been adapted more quickly from its 2005 comic book source, perhaps it would have seemed more original, but has reached the realms of somewhat passé now. Still, what is important in this sort of case is the execution rather than the real strength of the concept, and the film does it quite well. With makeup, the surrogates are made to look not quite real, and there’s something fun about seeing real actors purposely put in the ‘uncanny valley’. Willis’ character is somewhat wooden but likeable (and kept reminding me of Jordan Rudess), and the central antagonist, in all his forms, is rather an interesting man.
The problems really are with the lack of depth. We see how this surrogate thing works in cities in America, but if 98% of the population are using them, what about rural communities and the Third World? How are they paid for? Why isn’t there crime for surrogates or more piracy and bizarre modifications? If they are used in the military, why aren’t they made better than human, to a far greater extent than is shown? Crime is supposedly down 99%, but wouldn’t people end up being more careless about property and take greater risks? I just found that not enough of the questions the film raised got answered. The ending was also somewhat contrived and the skimpy backgrounds that the characters were given seemed like they were made for a creative writing class.
Overall, not a bad film at all, but hardly one that will be remembered as a classic.
Saw I-VI (all-nighter at the London IMAX)
Of the six grisly Saw films we sat through, fetishising violence, aggrandising intelligent serial killers and just maybe encouraging people to live more meaningful lives, the best was the first, with its grittiness, claustrophobia and firmly established space. Indeed, I still wish that the whole film had taken place within the room, like a play, rather than having flashbacks and police detective stories interwoven. The second expanded the concept to a full house, and while the mind-game and Jigsaw’s time onscreen made the sequel quite satisfying, all the running about, screaming and broad characterisation made the whole thing much more formulaic and unoriginal, less of a quirky psychological thriller than an action film with a clever ending, and unfortunately took the series is a direction I think suited it less well than a continuation of intimate studies of single, horrifying circumstances. The part with the key and the eye worked much better than I thought it would, though, in context. His eye was useless, so no magic was needed.
Saw III neatly went back over some of the first film’s scenes with an accuracy that would do Back to the Future proud. The Kramer character became somewhat deified as a medical drama unfolded, while a simultaneous storyline was a bit too generic to make an interesting second plot thread. It was a little hard to believe that Kramer would ever believe Amanda would pass his test, though. Saw IV’s bravura display was playing misleadingly with time, and the test this time was a pretty clever one, even if the game was totally lost. While the cleverness of IV’s timeline is impressive, though, a single scene in V made me stop to wonder if Jigsaw Junior, as I shall call him to avoid spoilers, received instructions for the five-person game from Kramer, quickly hurried down to be tied up in his chair, ran back up again at the end of that to close the door, dressed up as a pig, set up the failed water execution and then left the building with the little girl. That’s quite a day’s work!
V itself starts a cat and mouse game that is fairly interesting, although neither character has enough charisma to really provide much in the way of interest, and protagonist and antagonist look troublingly alike. It was quite good, having the five people and revealing the intended lesson, but the abrupt end to the film meant that the conclusion was quite unsatisfying, and we never really learned if the survivors really did survive.
Finally came the new film, Saw 6. The cat and mouse game reaches a conclusion, but it’s all too heavy-handed and over-obvious. The main game is spectacular and flamboyant, but it’s rather annoying when lives are just put in the hands of others, with no chances to save themselves. The tirade against the American healthcare system doesn’t strike me as such an amazing hook, either. The open ending wasn’t great for closure, and if Saw VII is in 3D…well, I probably will watch it now that I’ve sat through all of that, but I can’t see it really wowing audiences. They’re running out of minor characters and little open-ended questions about plot to fall back on.
Overall, I’m glad I went, and enjoyed it, not really ever feeling it was a hard slog. It was well worth the trip, and certainly a memorable cinema experience.
Saw III neatly went back over some of the first film’s scenes with an accuracy that would do Back to the Future proud. The Kramer character became somewhat deified as a medical drama unfolded, while a simultaneous storyline was a bit too generic to make an interesting second plot thread. It was a little hard to believe that Kramer would ever believe Amanda would pass his test, though. Saw IV’s bravura display was playing misleadingly with time, and the test this time was a pretty clever one, even if the game was totally lost. While the cleverness of IV’s timeline is impressive, though, a single scene in V made me stop to wonder if Jigsaw Junior, as I shall call him to avoid spoilers, received instructions for the five-person game from Kramer, quickly hurried down to be tied up in his chair, ran back up again at the end of that to close the door, dressed up as a pig, set up the failed water execution and then left the building with the little girl. That’s quite a day’s work!
V itself starts a cat and mouse game that is fairly interesting, although neither character has enough charisma to really provide much in the way of interest, and protagonist and antagonist look troublingly alike. It was quite good, having the five people and revealing the intended lesson, but the abrupt end to the film meant that the conclusion was quite unsatisfying, and we never really learned if the survivors really did survive.
Finally came the new film, Saw 6. The cat and mouse game reaches a conclusion, but it’s all too heavy-handed and over-obvious. The main game is spectacular and flamboyant, but it’s rather annoying when lives are just put in the hands of others, with no chances to save themselves. The tirade against the American healthcare system doesn’t strike me as such an amazing hook, either. The open ending wasn’t great for closure, and if Saw VII is in 3D…well, I probably will watch it now that I’ve sat through all of that, but I can’t see it really wowing audiences. They’re running out of minor characters and little open-ended questions about plot to fall back on.
Overall, I’m glad I went, and enjoyed it, not really ever feeling it was a hard slog. It was well worth the trip, and certainly a memorable cinema experience.
Paranormal Activity
Went to the cinema to see Paranormal Activity, something of a smash hit indie film which cost $150,000 and has grossed well over $100,000,000. After The Blair Witch Project and Cloverfield, this is probably the last chance to make a film that revolves around cheap footage from a hand-held camera within the action without it just coming over as a cynical way to cut production costs.
The film itself was moderately good, but certainly not worth seeing twice. The protracted set-up does an excellent job of establishing its two main characters: the girl is ordinary, natural and sympathetic, while the guy develops very well over the course of the film – at first, he is a likeable, slightly spoilt class clown-type, but gradually reveals his insecure, controlling, overly proud side under pressure, and the film works because we actually do care about these two. As a horror film, however, it is pretty dull. It focuses on bumps in the night and suspense, promising ever-greater thrills, but then just as it finally gets interesting with a big jump moment, it ends. It’s a whole feature film of exposition, leading to one jump and an annoying blank screen no-one else seemed to want to leave during.
My final impression was that it was like the first ten minutes of The Exorcist spun out over ninety, with just about none of the promised visceral action. The Exorcist may be dated and nowhere near as scary as its reputation makes out, but it will certainly endure much better than the ultimately wholly unsatisfying Paranormal Activity.
The film itself was moderately good, but certainly not worth seeing twice. The protracted set-up does an excellent job of establishing its two main characters: the girl is ordinary, natural and sympathetic, while the guy develops very well over the course of the film – at first, he is a likeable, slightly spoilt class clown-type, but gradually reveals his insecure, controlling, overly proud side under pressure, and the film works because we actually do care about these two. As a horror film, however, it is pretty dull. It focuses on bumps in the night and suspense, promising ever-greater thrills, but then just as it finally gets interesting with a big jump moment, it ends. It’s a whole feature film of exposition, leading to one jump and an annoying blank screen no-one else seemed to want to leave during.
My final impression was that it was like the first ten minutes of The Exorcist spun out over ninety, with just about none of the promised visceral action. The Exorcist may be dated and nowhere near as scary as its reputation makes out, but it will certainly endure much better than the ultimately wholly unsatisfying Paranormal Activity.
Wednesday 15 June 2011
Nowhere Boy
Lennon did indeed have a complex and difficult adolescence, clarified by his half-sister’s recent book and certainly rich food for filmmakers. His parents’ marriage broke up when his mother became pregnant by another man when his father was off on military service, so at five years old his father tried to abduct him to New Zealand. Asked to choose, this small boy picked his daddy, but then ran after his mother and ended up staying in England. His aunt Mimi then took him into her care, leading to a weird situation in which he was barely allowed to see his birth-mother and yet found there rebellious reprieve from his stifling middle-classed life.
This film exaggerates and heightens the drama, as can be expected. John starts visiting his mother’s home at 15 rather than 11 and their relationship is portrayed as oddly eroticised. In fact, the film seems to try to conjure up some sexual tension between just about everyone in it, apart from the one that WAS the real-life shocker (Mimi and her student lodger). There are very strong performances from the boy playing Lennon and Kristen Scott-Thomas does an excellent job of bringing out the warmth and humour lurking beneath the surface of her stiff character, and I must say it was cute knowing Thomas Sangster had worked very hard on getting his Liverpool accent right and even studying to play the guitar left-handed for only a few minutes of screen-time. On the other hand, the pacing is slow and arguments and revelations do seem to be wringed for every drop of drama, and it stopped just as it was about to get interesting. That said, the grimness of the setting and the undeniably fascinating family drama made for compelling viewing and sympathetic, rich characters.
This film exaggerates and heightens the drama, as can be expected. John starts visiting his mother’s home at 15 rather than 11 and their relationship is portrayed as oddly eroticised. In fact, the film seems to try to conjure up some sexual tension between just about everyone in it, apart from the one that WAS the real-life shocker (Mimi and her student lodger). There are very strong performances from the boy playing Lennon and Kristen Scott-Thomas does an excellent job of bringing out the warmth and humour lurking beneath the surface of her stiff character, and I must say it was cute knowing Thomas Sangster had worked very hard on getting his Liverpool accent right and even studying to play the guitar left-handed for only a few minutes of screen-time. On the other hand, the pacing is slow and arguments and revelations do seem to be wringed for every drop of drama, and it stopped just as it was about to get interesting. That said, the grimness of the setting and the undeniably fascinating family drama made for compelling viewing and sympathetic, rich characters.
Nine
It wasn’t at all what I expected it to be. It was a strange film, not quirky like Moulin Rouge, director Rob Marshall’s previous big hit, but genuinely odd. Based on a musical, it tells the story of filmmaker Frederico Fellini…sorry, Guido Contini as he tries to make a new film past his prime, with no script, no concept and two flops behind him. Perhaps that’s an unkind way of putting this, actually – this is an open homage to 8½ rather than a rip-off. The renowned auteur has no film, but what he does have is plenty of women in his life: the wife, the mistress, the filmstar muse, the feisty fashion critic and the matriarchal mentor and the memories of his mother and the prostitute who shaped his childhood conception of what it was to be Italian. Essentially, the plot is that Guido has a breakdown and seeks advice and solace from all of these women (or the memory of them), each of whom then sings a song.
It is a film made up of its flaws. Daniel Day Lewis is superb and an extremely convincing as an Italian, but his character is very difficult to like, a spoilt, selfish, philandering liar who is never vulnerable and miserable enough for that to counterbalance his cruelty, smugness or ungrateful attitude. The songs by and large are subpar and even boring, mostly forgettable and lacking in hooks. Judi Dench’s is good, a gleeful pastiche unfortunately delivered in a rather strange French accent, which I wouldn’t expect from such a fine actress (was she going for the sound of an English person attempting a French accent on purpose?). The wife’s one sounded good, but kept breaking off, interrupted by dialogue. The only great song was the one in the trailer, belted out wonderfully by vaguely repulsive Fergie, with an amazing sand-and-chairs-and-tambourines dance routine, and yet she was the least significant of all the characters. On the other hand, maybe it’s me being more stereotypically gay than usual, but I thought Sophia Loren looked fabulous for 75, and only slightly scary.
For its sins, though, Nine is quite enjoyable, profound and ambitious. A film about filmmaking has a harder time than any setting up a fourth wall, but here it doesn’t matter: neo-realisme be damned, this was a love-song to different filmmaking styles happy to use pastiche and willing to let the audience remember they are watching a film, to consider how it is put together, and to remember Marshall is behind it all. That distances the audience, but allows them to appreciate more of the artistry, the beautiful craftsmanship. However, this throws off the balance of the whole; with too much of the head and not enough of the heart, the film ultimately feels hollow, and that’s a shame.
It is a film made up of its flaws. Daniel Day Lewis is superb and an extremely convincing as an Italian, but his character is very difficult to like, a spoilt, selfish, philandering liar who is never vulnerable and miserable enough for that to counterbalance his cruelty, smugness or ungrateful attitude. The songs by and large are subpar and even boring, mostly forgettable and lacking in hooks. Judi Dench’s is good, a gleeful pastiche unfortunately delivered in a rather strange French accent, which I wouldn’t expect from such a fine actress (was she going for the sound of an English person attempting a French accent on purpose?). The wife’s one sounded good, but kept breaking off, interrupted by dialogue. The only great song was the one in the trailer, belted out wonderfully by vaguely repulsive Fergie, with an amazing sand-and-chairs-and-tambourines dance routine, and yet she was the least significant of all the characters. On the other hand, maybe it’s me being more stereotypically gay than usual, but I thought Sophia Loren looked fabulous for 75, and only slightly scary.
For its sins, though, Nine is quite enjoyable, profound and ambitious. A film about filmmaking has a harder time than any setting up a fourth wall, but here it doesn’t matter: neo-realisme be damned, this was a love-song to different filmmaking styles happy to use pastiche and willing to let the audience remember they are watching a film, to consider how it is put together, and to remember Marshall is behind it all. That distances the audience, but allows them to appreciate more of the artistry, the beautiful craftsmanship. However, this throws off the balance of the whole; with too much of the head and not enough of the heart, the film ultimately feels hollow, and that’s a shame.
Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief
Everything about Percy Jackson was poor apart from the general production standard and casting: the plot was the most terrible macguffin-driven clunker. The characters were all dull, and the choices of Greek figures to appear, from Medusa to Chiron, were the most obvious that could be imagined, and mostly it went unexplained how various dead figures returned to life for the story, and of course we ended up with a very Christian idea of Hades and his Underworld. There was lots of terrible dialogue, coincidence and bizarre morals: the hero is given dyslexia and ADHD, presumably in an attempt to appeal to kids who feel victimized and are not typically bookish types, yet it turns out that his conditions are in fact part of his divine nature – an escape those who genuinely struggle with them cannot share in, leading only to resent, I feel sure. There is a glorification of disobeying authority figures, womanizing and a depiction of gambling as extremely enjoyable, even if it is the lotophagi’s distraction. This gambling section also confuses ages, both of the characters themselves and of the target audience, as to be young enough to actually like the film, you would also have to be too young to have any idea about legal gambling, particularly in the States.
The Lovely Bones
I liked several things about the film – the performances, the ethereal prettiness of the girl (from Atonement) and her world and especially the way the 70s is now long enough past that it can be presented in a somewhat mythologized and beautiful way, but overall I was not keen on the film at all. It seemed so shallow and manipulative to me.
The plot was essentially this – girl gets murdered, her family start to suspect someone based on some photos and a dog’s barks, the girl’s sister makes a big breakthrough…and then nothing happens, with some ridiculous karmic payoff coming at the end. The rest is just the most depressing, painful, heart-wrenching suffering a young writer can revel in dreaming up, purely for the sake of the melodrama. It’s just a portrait of a family suffering, a two-dimensional murderer orbiting around them, while a little dead girl watches. There was an opportunity for greatness here – both in the presentation of the ‘in-between’ world and in meditating on what it means to let go, but both were disappointments. The few bravura visual feats mostly given away in the trailer just seemed like an effects department showing off, because they were sterile, all but ignored by Susie and never given any real meaning or solid significance, and while at one point Susie decides it’s time to leave her father to ‘let go’, that’s then tossed aside, she carries on watching the world and Mark Wahlberg’s tortured character carries on in the same way, and we’re meant to imagine his wife coming home in some way gives him closure.
Things just don’t connect the way it seems Jackson wants us to think they do, and there just doesn’t seem to have been enough thought given to why things happen, why the killer goes for random drives around the block just long enough for the sister to break in, why a whole group of dead girls have any need to gather at some tree for hugs, as well as what the rest of them have been doing in the interim, what changes are made by the fact that an afterlife becomes a fact, not a possibility. It just felt so superficial.
The plot was essentially this – girl gets murdered, her family start to suspect someone based on some photos and a dog’s barks, the girl’s sister makes a big breakthrough…and then nothing happens, with some ridiculous karmic payoff coming at the end. The rest is just the most depressing, painful, heart-wrenching suffering a young writer can revel in dreaming up, purely for the sake of the melodrama. It’s just a portrait of a family suffering, a two-dimensional murderer orbiting around them, while a little dead girl watches. There was an opportunity for greatness here – both in the presentation of the ‘in-between’ world and in meditating on what it means to let go, but both were disappointments. The few bravura visual feats mostly given away in the trailer just seemed like an effects department showing off, because they were sterile, all but ignored by Susie and never given any real meaning or solid significance, and while at one point Susie decides it’s time to leave her father to ‘let go’, that’s then tossed aside, she carries on watching the world and Mark Wahlberg’s tortured character carries on in the same way, and we’re meant to imagine his wife coming home in some way gives him closure.
Things just don’t connect the way it seems Jackson wants us to think they do, and there just doesn’t seem to have been enough thought given to why things happen, why the killer goes for random drives around the block just long enough for the sister to break in, why a whole group of dead girls have any need to gather at some tree for hugs, as well as what the rest of them have been doing in the interim, what changes are made by the fact that an afterlife becomes a fact, not a possibility. It just felt so superficial.
Mic Macs à Tire Larigot
As I missed A Very Long Engagement, this is the first film Jeunet has released since Amélie that I have caught. That charming, quirky smash hit temporarily established Jeunet as an arthouse darling, brought a new audience (including myself) to his earlier films Delicatessen and The City of Lost Children (although the Playstation tie-in had at least initiated me to the latter), and steered him away from the disastrous career that could have resulted from Alien Resurrection. However, with the opportunity to be a strange neo-auteur in the Burton or Gilliam mode, Jeunet has slipped from prominence with only two films in the near-decade since Amélie and now returned with a very uneven film that may make money based on his reputation but certainly won’t be a big commercial success. His next one had better be revelatory.
Micmacs could have been superb with a little more of Jeunet’s trademark whimsy and more charming characters, or possibly actors. The ingredients were in place, the story more or less an adult version of twee children’s books in which dastardly, powerful adults are beaten by the ingenuity of a group of misfits and outcasts, but the middle portion of the film just sagged, and it didn’t engage until the very end.
The story more or less went like this: Bazil is one of life’s very unlucky people, from a very unlucky family – a fact brilliantly established in a five-second scene where a powercut ends, the family blow out the candles they have set up, and then immediately the power fails once again. His father is killed clearing landmines, and then thirty years later, he hears a gunshot, looks out of the door of the shop he works in and is hit by a strange bullet. He does not die, but must live with a bullet lodged in his brain that could kill him at any moment, and finds upon his release from hospital that assuming he will not survive, his boss has replaced him and his landlady has re-let his room and given away his possessions. Becoming a drifter, he meets what I assume are the Micmacs, a rag-tag group of outcasts, including a contortionist, a human cannonball, an inventor who makes wonderful robots out of junk that provide some of the film’s best moments, and a human calculator. Scraping by with them, he finds the two arms companies who made the landmine that killed his father and the bullet that nearly did the same to him, and finding their corporate leaders to be contemptible, smug, exploitative men, resolves to bring the companies down with the help of his new friends.
It could have been so much fun, with a great cast of oddballs. But the trouble is that Jeunet seems to stick them all together, tack on some romantic tension and expect them to be enchanting on their own. In fact, the reason the film doesn’t quite succeed is that his Micmacs just aren’t very likeable. Bazil isn’t sympathetic enough to carry the film, the others mostly just fulfil their roles and never have any depth beyond their character quirks, and the contortionist was just plain annoying, with the weird arch way she delivered her lines. It’s even hard to be sympathetic with Dominic Pinon’s thin character, the best of the bunch is the funny little man who doesn’t talk, and most of the schemes they put into practice are needlessly convoluted, yet not to the extent that they entertain like an ‘usine à gaz’. It’s actually much more compelling to watch the arms dealers when they start to wage war on one another. The final setpiece, an old trick used in several children’s stories, is a satisfying end to the film with a more serious political message, but I did not get the emotional payoff I may have done if I was really on the side of the good characters, and not wishing that they had been mostly in the shadows to give the arms dealers more screen time.
Micmacs could have been superb with a little more of Jeunet’s trademark whimsy and more charming characters, or possibly actors. The ingredients were in place, the story more or less an adult version of twee children’s books in which dastardly, powerful adults are beaten by the ingenuity of a group of misfits and outcasts, but the middle portion of the film just sagged, and it didn’t engage until the very end.
The story more or less went like this: Bazil is one of life’s very unlucky people, from a very unlucky family – a fact brilliantly established in a five-second scene where a powercut ends, the family blow out the candles they have set up, and then immediately the power fails once again. His father is killed clearing landmines, and then thirty years later, he hears a gunshot, looks out of the door of the shop he works in and is hit by a strange bullet. He does not die, but must live with a bullet lodged in his brain that could kill him at any moment, and finds upon his release from hospital that assuming he will not survive, his boss has replaced him and his landlady has re-let his room and given away his possessions. Becoming a drifter, he meets what I assume are the Micmacs, a rag-tag group of outcasts, including a contortionist, a human cannonball, an inventor who makes wonderful robots out of junk that provide some of the film’s best moments, and a human calculator. Scraping by with them, he finds the two arms companies who made the landmine that killed his father and the bullet that nearly did the same to him, and finding their corporate leaders to be contemptible, smug, exploitative men, resolves to bring the companies down with the help of his new friends.
It could have been so much fun, with a great cast of oddballs. But the trouble is that Jeunet seems to stick them all together, tack on some romantic tension and expect them to be enchanting on their own. In fact, the reason the film doesn’t quite succeed is that his Micmacs just aren’t very likeable. Bazil isn’t sympathetic enough to carry the film, the others mostly just fulfil their roles and never have any depth beyond their character quirks, and the contortionist was just plain annoying, with the weird arch way she delivered her lines. It’s even hard to be sympathetic with Dominic Pinon’s thin character, the best of the bunch is the funny little man who doesn’t talk, and most of the schemes they put into practice are needlessly convoluted, yet not to the extent that they entertain like an ‘usine à gaz’. It’s actually much more compelling to watch the arms dealers when they start to wage war on one another. The final setpiece, an old trick used in several children’s stories, is a satisfying end to the film with a more serious political message, but I did not get the emotional payoff I may have done if I was really on the side of the good characters, and not wishing that they had been mostly in the shadows to give the arms dealers more screen time.
Yes Men refont le monde
I went to the Rue General Dufour to attend the film screening, which was down in a charming basement performance space with comfortable seats and a nice big screen. And then I saw Yes Men Rule the World (as it was titled online; the French title was Yes Men refont le monde, which means ‘Yes Men fix the world’, which would make considerably more sense). While I once again had to try to brush off my rusty and, let’s face it, incompetent French because while all the filmed scenes were in English with French subtitles, the voice-overs were in French. Luckily it was all contextualised and fairly simple, so wasn’t hard to understand at all, although I did have difficulty trying to listen in French while reading an English headline on the screen.
The film itself was a funny, silly documentary about two anti-corporate protestors who bring their issues to the fore with some remarkably high-profile hoaxes. Their series of attacks focused on corporations who profit from the suffering of others, and caused considerable embarrassment. Documented on film, though, their different stunts were very hit-and-miss. After the impressive gall, coordination and research that had to go into severely embarrassing Dow by appearing on BBC World News with a potential audience of three million and posing as a spokesman claiming the company would accept full responsibility for the industrial disaster in India that happened under the operation of a company Dow bought out. Stock prices plummeted, headlines were made and the company had to quickly assure shareholders that no payout would be made. After that, silly little pranks like the sub-Swiftian joke of making people light candles purportedly made of recycled human being, or interviewing idiot corporate advisors who say things like ‘Carbon emissions are good because they’re what trees breathe: they call it pollution – we call it LIFE’ and then twisting their word so that it sounds like they want gay erotica behind them cannot come close to comparing. A final stunt in which the Yes Men posed as representatives for a housing company screwing people in New Orleans out of their old homes and pledged to let them back in and help pay for regeneration came close, and came coupled with satisfying interviews in which the usual attack against the Yes Men – that these stunts are cruel to the victims because they raise false hopes – was repudiated by the victims themselves, who were very happy for the attention given to the issues.
The film itself was a funny, silly documentary about two anti-corporate protestors who bring their issues to the fore with some remarkably high-profile hoaxes. Their series of attacks focused on corporations who profit from the suffering of others, and caused considerable embarrassment. Documented on film, though, their different stunts were very hit-and-miss. After the impressive gall, coordination and research that had to go into severely embarrassing Dow by appearing on BBC World News with a potential audience of three million and posing as a spokesman claiming the company would accept full responsibility for the industrial disaster in India that happened under the operation of a company Dow bought out. Stock prices plummeted, headlines were made and the company had to quickly assure shareholders that no payout would be made. After that, silly little pranks like the sub-Swiftian joke of making people light candles purportedly made of recycled human being, or interviewing idiot corporate advisors who say things like ‘Carbon emissions are good because they’re what trees breathe: they call it pollution – we call it LIFE’ and then twisting their word so that it sounds like they want gay erotica behind them cannot come close to comparing. A final stunt in which the Yes Men posed as representatives for a housing company screwing people in New Orleans out of their old homes and pledged to let them back in and help pay for regeneration came close, and came coupled with satisfying interviews in which the usual attack against the Yes Men – that these stunts are cruel to the victims because they raise false hopes – was repudiated by the victims themselves, who were very happy for the attention given to the issues.
Clash of the Titans 3D
Or, as our tickets called it, Clash of Tit. Took our seats and put on the 3D glasses, which were larger and less comfortable than ones we’ve had recently, but actually did a much better job of polarizing and worked far better for me. I hope all new 3D films use those ones.
I was sad, though, that the film wasn’t nearly as entertaining as I’d hoped it would be. It wasn’t so bad it was fun, nor simply good. It was actually really quite dull. With surprisingly horrible performances from Pete Postlethwaite (overacting his cheesy lines so much I wondered if he was mocking them), Liam Neeson (trying to be arch but managing only wooden) and Ralph Fiennes (rasping and moaning in an attempt to be evil, but at least striking awesome poses), and the guy from Avatar not looking remotely Greek or managing to elicit any sympathy from the audience with his ‘I will not take any favours from the gods’ angle, especially as it all ends up with him contradicting himself and taking all the free power-ups. So much for hard work and dedication winning over nepotism and privilege – but hey, I don’t turn to cheesy 3D remakes for moral messages.
The plot was just slow and poor. The majority of the film is given to Perseus questing with a bunch of boring soldiers, including for some reason that awkward boy from Skins, looking for the Stygian Witches. They finally find them and tell Perseus what to do, which removes all tension from the climax, making for a godawful final action setpiece where the best the scriptwriters can do to inject tension is have Perseus chasing after a monster/fury/flying monkey trying to get back a sack. Medusa was creepy but easily dispatched and appeared too briefly, and what the Kraken is doing in Greek mythology I have no idea – although that derives from the original. Speaking of which, the things added for this new version are incomprehensible. Firstly, Io, looking very non-bovine, becomes a companion and love interest, making Andromeda’s role extremely confused. Secondly, for some bizarre reason ‘Djinns’ are added, not actually having much to do with the genies of middle-eastern myth, and it really made me cringe when one proved he was a hero by being a suicide bomber. And lastly, they only let the funky robot owl from the original have a silly cameo! But hey, that’s better than nothing.
I was sad, though, that the film wasn’t nearly as entertaining as I’d hoped it would be. It wasn’t so bad it was fun, nor simply good. It was actually really quite dull. With surprisingly horrible performances from Pete Postlethwaite (overacting his cheesy lines so much I wondered if he was mocking them), Liam Neeson (trying to be arch but managing only wooden) and Ralph Fiennes (rasping and moaning in an attempt to be evil, but at least striking awesome poses), and the guy from Avatar not looking remotely Greek or managing to elicit any sympathy from the audience with his ‘I will not take any favours from the gods’ angle, especially as it all ends up with him contradicting himself and taking all the free power-ups. So much for hard work and dedication winning over nepotism and privilege – but hey, I don’t turn to cheesy 3D remakes for moral messages.
The plot was just slow and poor. The majority of the film is given to Perseus questing with a bunch of boring soldiers, including for some reason that awkward boy from Skins, looking for the Stygian Witches. They finally find them and tell Perseus what to do, which removes all tension from the climax, making for a godawful final action setpiece where the best the scriptwriters can do to inject tension is have Perseus chasing after a monster/fury/flying monkey trying to get back a sack. Medusa was creepy but easily dispatched and appeared too briefly, and what the Kraken is doing in Greek mythology I have no idea – although that derives from the original. Speaking of which, the things added for this new version are incomprehensible. Firstly, Io, looking very non-bovine, becomes a companion and love interest, making Andromeda’s role extremely confused. Secondly, for some bizarre reason ‘Djinns’ are added, not actually having much to do with the genies of middle-eastern myth, and it really made me cringe when one proved he was a hero by being a suicide bomber. And lastly, they only let the funky robot owl from the original have a silly cameo! But hey, that’s better than nothing.
Iron Man 2
Iron Man 2 wasn’t as gripping as the first one, and struggled with a plot of low stakes and the rather contrived idea that Stark’s father would hide a great discovery for no well-defined reason, but Robert Downey Junior’s ability to make such a repulsive man so very likeable carried the whole thing, and Mickey Rourke has remarkable gravitas even in a thinly-sketched role. Haz seemed to enjoy it, recognizing Black Widow where I didn’t (although not getting that Samuel L. Jackson was Nick Fury, bless’m), and I liked the hints at Avengers films to come – especially the use of Cap’s shield, heheh.
Tuesday 14 June 2011
Thor
Preparations for the Avengers film continue, and the Superhero movie is in a new age of prominence. Obviously, there have always been Superhero films in my lifetime, with Superman and Batman rather staples of every childhood for decades. But with X-Men, Thor and Green Lantern all having adaptations in the space of weeks, things are busy just now.
Thor was never a favourite of mine, and probably my least favourite of any Marvel character who gets his own regular title, save perhaps Namor. I had a video of Thor as a child, horribly animated and horribly acted – and these are my impressions from when I was six or seven, when just about any nonsense pleased me. But now he has been reimagined for a new generation, and given a big-screen movie, which has been met with critical acclaim and great word-of-mouth.
And it hasn’t moved too far from its comic counterpart, either, in all its excess. In a high-fantasy Asgard, we follow Thor as, impetuous and proud, he is exiled by his father for almost starting a war. He is of course exiled to Midgard, our world, and what is essentially a Viking warrior has to prove he is worthy to wield Mjolnir while finding his way in a strange new world. But Loki, Thor’s adoptive brother, may just have been pulling the strings behind the scenes, and may have more machinations in store yet.
Where Thor works for its update is in the humour. The writers know they’re working with a very silly concept, sillier even than most of the adaptations that come from comic books, and while the segments on Earth are comparatively slow, they also bring with them much-needed reliability, first having the human characters mystified by the fish-out-of-water, and then by having Thor depowered become vulnerable and identifiable. Loki’s manipulative ways ensure that there are some twists towards the end, and overall we get a satisfying blockbuster with good performances and memorable imagery.
But Loki’s character is the one that causes problems for this film. He’s clever, sly and callous, but his plans are just so badly-laid that I spent the whole thing expecting different twists – and then wondering why he didn’t think of the things I did. It makes sense that he sets up a situation where he could have Thor removed, then be seen to save his father so that he would be glorified, but it just doesn’t work. The way he deals with Thor and the Warriors Three (plus one) just closes too many possibilities for him without decent insurance. And when he sees his brother back, Mjolnir in hand, it clearly makes a lot more sense to backtrack and pretend you planned everything so that he’d be restored and bide your time.
Oh well. It’s a comic book blockbuster so there’s little point in overthinking it. I don’t think it quite deserves the plaudits it’s getting, but a Thor film certainly could have been much, much worse.
Thor was never a favourite of mine, and probably my least favourite of any Marvel character who gets his own regular title, save perhaps Namor. I had a video of Thor as a child, horribly animated and horribly acted – and these are my impressions from when I was six or seven, when just about any nonsense pleased me. But now he has been reimagined for a new generation, and given a big-screen movie, which has been met with critical acclaim and great word-of-mouth.
And it hasn’t moved too far from its comic counterpart, either, in all its excess. In a high-fantasy Asgard, we follow Thor as, impetuous and proud, he is exiled by his father for almost starting a war. He is of course exiled to Midgard, our world, and what is essentially a Viking warrior has to prove he is worthy to wield Mjolnir while finding his way in a strange new world. But Loki, Thor’s adoptive brother, may just have been pulling the strings behind the scenes, and may have more machinations in store yet.
Where Thor works for its update is in the humour. The writers know they’re working with a very silly concept, sillier even than most of the adaptations that come from comic books, and while the segments on Earth are comparatively slow, they also bring with them much-needed reliability, first having the human characters mystified by the fish-out-of-water, and then by having Thor depowered become vulnerable and identifiable. Loki’s manipulative ways ensure that there are some twists towards the end, and overall we get a satisfying blockbuster with good performances and memorable imagery.
But Loki’s character is the one that causes problems for this film. He’s clever, sly and callous, but his plans are just so badly-laid that I spent the whole thing expecting different twists – and then wondering why he didn’t think of the things I did. It makes sense that he sets up a situation where he could have Thor removed, then be seen to save his father so that he would be glorified, but it just doesn’t work. The way he deals with Thor and the Warriors Three (plus one) just closes too many possibilities for him without decent insurance. And when he sees his brother back, Mjolnir in hand, it clearly makes a lot more sense to backtrack and pretend you planned everything so that he’d be restored and bide your time.
Oh well. It’s a comic book blockbuster so there’s little point in overthinking it. I don’t think it quite deserves the plaudits it’s getting, but a Thor film certainly could have been much, much worse.
Sunday 5 June 2011
X-men: First Class
Another X-Men movie, this time a prequel, and one that from the offset makes it clear it’s tied in with the continuity of the rest, rather than being a complete reboot. Just to reiterate – I am not one of the Marvel fans who hates the alternate continuity of the films, and nor do I really think they have a case. Sure, you can say it’s ‘wrong’ that these characters have different backstories from those found in the comics, but there are so many retcons, alternate universes and ‘what if?’ stories that any fan should be well used to the idea, and treat movie continuity as just another complementary retelling. It is the 60s and the height of the cold war. Charles Xavier and his adoptive sister Raven are in Oxford, Xavier pioneering research into genetics and the possibilities of mutation. Meanwhile, Moira McTaggert has been recast as a sexy CIA operative, and after witnessing members of the Hellfire Club showing their powers, enlists Xavier to help her. Teaming up with a young Hank McCoy and using his early version of Cerebro, they locate some more recruits – the other Summer sibling; Banshee, a necessity whenever there’s a Moira about; obscure Darwin and lame soap opera fodder Angel. So as you can tell, this first class is very different from the original group – only Beast was there.
Also on the team is Magneto, who Xavier rescued when he was trying to single-handedly take down the Hellfire Club’s submarine. The club, lead by a Sebastian Shaw here quite inventively recast as a Mengele-type Nazi doctor, has decided to attempt to transform as much of the next generation as possible into mutants by escalating the Cold War and causing a nuclear apocalypse – the hope being that all the radiation will cause lots of mutated genes. With help from Emma Frost and two rather campy henchmen in the form of Riptide and Azazel, the latter not at all suiting this subordinate role, he not only causes the Cuban Missile Crisis but intends to see it turn into a full-blown war.
The film has glaring flaws, but is overall an enjoyable Summer blockbuster which certainly ups the quality after the last few substandard X-Men films. The plot worked, the historical idea was a good one and the cast worked well.
One thing that surprised me was that the special effects were really not up to current standards. This was a problem both with the effects themselves – Angel and Banshee never looked like they were actually flying – but also with the direction, as in that awkward scene in the prologue where the young Magneto unleashes his powers, and the effects really needed to prove themselves but looked artificial, leaving a poor young actor just wandering about yelling unconvincingly.
I wasn’t sure about James McAvoy as Xavier at first (the actor who starred in Atonement and who was a slightly creepy Mr Tumnus in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe), especially as they wrote him at first as an awkward flirt, but as soon as the real plot set in he did very well, and if anything what the film really needed was more of a focus on the relationship between Xavier and Magneto. The choices of which mutants to include were strange – who ever wanted Angel there? Shouldn’t Havoc at least mention his brother? What was going on with the kid from About a Boy’s accent when he was the younger Beast? And do we really need the old cliché about the black member of the group coming true so blatantly? (Sure, maybe Darwin’s powers led to a different fate, but the vast majority of the audience will assume he’s dead.) And all the wrangling to explain why so many of them stayed young so long got a bit awkward, and that’s without even mentioning the annoying Jimmy Howlett story.
And while it does come under alternate timeline, I suppose, I wouldn’t mind Emma Frost being more…Emma Frost-y.
Overall, though, a satisfying, serious comic book film with good humour, warmth and a nice ending. Also some neat little cameos and nods both to fans of the comics and to movie continuity.
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