28th March 07 - 300

After a film drought (post Oscar – pre Easter holidays) my weekly cinema experience exploded back into action with a visually blasting film on a visually-blasting medium (Imax – an eight-storey screen). Talk about coming back with a bang. This was a crash, bang, wallop. In leather thongs.

Of course, you don’t have to see 300 at the Imax to get the full wallop effect. Visually this is a slick punch in the eyes. It’s an adaptation of Frank Miller’s graphic novel, like 2005’s Sin City, and the use of green screen and post-production fiddling means the ‘graphic’ is brought effortlessly to screen. While Sin City stuck to shades of black, white and red, 300 splashes out into the real world, but with a wash of tonal shades and an odd highlight here and there. The result is quite stunning, especially when you consider that the majority of the film was shot in a studio.

This stylish look adds one level of cool, but combine this with a story about some mega-hard Spartan soldiers (300 of them) standing up to an army of thousands, then add violence, a selection of large angry animals, PEOPLE SHOUTING LOTS and slow-mo battle scenes, and you’ve landed in the territory of ‘way cool’. Throw in semi-naked soldiers with air-brushed abs and big lovely thighs, and some elaborate lady nipples for the lads, and you’ve got a film ticking all the right boxes (on a list of ‘what makes a cool film’).

But such fancy pants additions don’t mean squat if you let things get out of control. Just look at efforts like the dire Daredevil. It’s like a hyperactive teenage boy has thrown up on screen. Thankfully, director Zack Snyder (responsible for the frenetic remake of Dawn of the Dead) keeps the reins tight. Battle scenes are awash with chaos, but rather than splurge on fast-editing craziness, Snyder focuses in – a fact I’m grateful of, or an Imax-amplified experience may have caused haemorrhaging. Instead we have scenes following one Spartan, mincing his way through enemy after enemy, limbs flying off in various stages of slo-mo and animated blood spraying the heavens at every slice. Or we stick in the middle of a scrum, heels digging into dirt, fear mixing with sweat, mixing with the Spartan’s insane love of battle.

For all the lavishness, 300 keeps its focus tight, and this is how it wins. Not too silly to be another nonsense flick for teens, but not so pompous that it becomes another Troy / Alexander / Kingdom of Heaven / King Arthur. These films struggled because the ‘serious’ bits were badly scripted and acted, and the battle scenes became unimpressive after a certain fantasy trilogy set the bar for massive battles – a bar that can’t really be beaten, since you invested 9 hours in the characters. 300 does have ‘speaky’ bits, but these are clipped – allowing you to get your breath back in preparation for the next battle, but not boring you to death.

Some critics have complained about the film’s historical inaccuracies. But really, to try and pull this film up on anything remotely factual is a futile task. This is a film based on a comic, featuring monsters, an enemy who is literally a giant drag queen, and a goat-headed man playing a flute. Worrying about history is trying to smile while watching Pirates of the Caribbean. Pointless.

Not that 300 isn’t flawed. The plot’s a little thin on the ground, the dialogue unremarkable, and if you tried to find any subtext you’d come across a frightening array of ideals (the Spartans are so powerful because they throw away their disabled babies… and there’s a disturbing correlation between evil invaders and darker skin colours). But hey – this isn’t trying to say anything (I hope). It’s certainly not trying to be anything other than a stylish graphic novel adaptation. Gripping, wowing and did I mention all the soldier’s thighs? 300 is a well crafted piece of work, and worth seeing on the Imax if you get the chance.

For being very cool but still keeping control, this gets one point, and it gets another simply for featuring a rhino. Therefore 300 marches in with CF2. Smashing.

Documentary Fool

There comes a time when there are no films on that I want to see. Or, there are films out that I’d want to see but Mr Cinema has decided to put them on at dumb times (A Guide to Recognising Your Saints, the new film staring Robert Downy Jr, would have been this week’s review. Now you’ll have to fend for yourselves without my quality opinion. Poor you.)

So instead of the cinema I watched something I’d taped off the telly (bear with me), a documentary (wait for it) that I’d wanted to see at the cinema last year but missed due to similar reasons (there’s the link. It wasn’t like I was about to review Neighbours or anything.) It made me realise that there are many film/documentaries out there that are definitely worth a watch, so in order that I might guide your witless souls towards quality entertainment, I thought I’d briefly go through five highlights of the documentary world that you should watch. Then someday you might be as clever and thoughtful as what I am.


This Film is Not Yet Rated

A doc from 2006 (and the one I watched last night) about the weird ratings systems in the US. As well as showing lots of rude sex scenes that were rated a seemingly dreaded NC17 (that’s 18 to UK folk) and scenes that were ultimately cut (a ‘pooping on his face’ moment in Team America that is hilarious but ‘unacceptable’ even though they’re puppets) this documentary also digs its way in to issues like ‘who has the right to decide the morals of others’, ‘why is female pleasure so offensive to watch’, ‘how come sex is much worse than violence’, and ‘what’s with all the prejudice against gay sex, when stuff like violence to women is ok?’

The main thrust is the involvement of a private detective duo (a fabulously rich couple of characters – and not rich as in money, but rich as in they’re a lesbian couple, deeply in love, who also happen to be great detectives). They’re hired by the director Kirby Dick to try and find the names of the ratings panel members, which are for some reason kept mega private. As they discover the supposed snap shot of America includes mostly middle class whites in their late 40s, Kirby interviews directors, actors and others in the biz to find their experiences and gripes with the system.

Though a little one-sided, this doc is amusing, enlightening and brings up plenty for debate. It’s rated 18 in the UK.


Murderball

Quadriplegics playing rugby in wheelchairs isn’t the most obvious of sport-films, but this doc from 2005 is an exciting, moving piece of work that combines all the typical traits of a sports story (the competing teams, the build up to the main event etc) with some affecting personal stories. The doc follows a group of mostly young lads, including the likes of Mark Zupan (accomplished player, who also pops up in Jackass 2. With a rocket attached to his wheel chair. Shooting him off a pier) and a more recently injured guy coming to terms with everything. It then mixes these stories with the fierce competition between team USA and team Canada.

I watched this while recovering from a foot operation and it promptly stopped me from feeling sorry for myself. It also moved, entertained and gripped me, and I would highly recommend it.


Super Size Me

A 2004 film that really, really made me want to eat a McDonalds (mainly because I watched it after a big night out). But with an intriguing premise (what happens when you eat nothing but McDonalds for a month?) and some balanced questions (a guy who eats a Big Mac every day and stays skinny) this is a relevant, amusing doc.


Bowling for Columbine

Ok, I know a lot of people now see Michael Moore as a whiney sort of fellow, but back in 2002 he produced this smart documentary that delves into America’s gun culture with funny and downright disturbing results. More focused than Fahrenheit 9/11, Bowling for Columbine uses the infamous school massacre as the crux for a look at the media, gun laws and the culture of fear.


Spellbound

Nominated for an Oscar, this 2002 doc centres on the biggest bunch of dweebs you’ve ever seen, makes you pity them, then makes you quite like them, then makes you really root for them as they compete in a spelling-bee competition. It also reminded me how much I can’t spell.


These are just five of the numerous quality documentaries to grace cinemas, and then later most channels ending in ‘4’ (as in BBC, and More – if you’re lucky to be in the UK). Watch out for them. And then, you know, watch them. It’ll do you good.

7th March 07 - Hot Fuzz

The first time I saw this (on the opening night) it was post-wine, post-opening ten minutes, and post-any seats being available more than ten centimetres away from the screen. Despite having an enjoyable evening I didn’t feel it was fair to review the film under such conditions. So I went again – such is my dedication.

Hot Fuzz comes from the makers of Shaun of the Dead, one of the best comedies in recent years I’d say (and I’d be right, of course). Simon Pegg stars as Nicholas Angel, a police officer so anally good that his London squad ship him off to the country because he’s making them all look bad. In ye olde quiet English town, Angel meets simple PC Danny Butterman (Nick Frost – Pegg’s childhood mate and comedic partner) and slowly finds that life in the countryside isn’t as quiet and boring as it seems.

Just as Shaun enveloped the lad’s love of zombie-flicks, Fuzz sees them tackle the action-genre. The film generally meanders through a mix of bobby-comedy and sparks of slasher-thriller, but its finale is a blast of action madness that looks like the most fun to film. Ever. Though it’s essentially a parody, the film never pokes fun at the genre. It embraces it. And sets it in the aisles of Somerfield. It’s genius in a very British way.

The cast is ever so familiar, with Spaced landladies and Shaun’s bit-parters, and Adam & Joe’s, er, Adam. Bigger names like Bill Nighy, Martin Freeman, Steve Coogan, Jim Broadbent and Edward Woodward all play parts (some of them wheeled in to purposefully make you go ‘oh look it’s him!’) and Timothy Dalton is brilliantly hammy as the baddy. Even Peter Jackson pops up in an “all right, I had to research this because it’s so quick” cameo.

There’s no doubt this is a funny film. Some great lines, laugh-in-shock moments of violence and grin-inducing action pieces (Matrix-esque battle in a model village, anyone?) But there’s something about it that stops it from climbing the highest ranks of the CF scale. Pegg’s character is bravely different from his Shaun creation, but a little too severe to be wholly likeable. Edgar Wright’s direction features his trademark super-fast cuts, but there are times when it’s just too bloody fast (especially when you’re too close to the screen) and makes watching some fights scenes almost painful. And during the action-fest finale the boys get a little too carried away with having such a good time. Yes, they look very cool in their shades and with their big guns. But it strays too far over into not-as-funny territory for much too long.

But that’s not to say this isn’t an enjoyable film, and as with For Your Consideration, it shats over other ‘comedies’ (Norbit? For christ’s sake, someone burn the fat suit already). Big, bold and British, Hot Fuzz climbs the CF scale with its humour, but falters when the action become a little too ‘actiony’ (it is a word), therefore reaching the commendable heights of CF3.

28th Feb 07 - The Science of Sleep

A lovely treat this week. Not only do I get to watch a fabulous film (more on that later) but I get to sit a comfortable distance from the screen. I was beginning to think the cinema was a visual punishment for all the insults I may have doled out in these reviews. It seems that’s not the case, though, so I’ll just carry on mocking people.

Anyway, I’ve been waiting to see The Science of Sleep since last year when it pretended to be released, before cruelly withdrawing itself until now. My excitement came from director Michel Gondry, a man who cut his teeth in music videos. His videos were always the ones that made me go ‘wow’, be they for Bjork, Chemical Brothers, White Stripes or even Kylie, they always displayed Gondry’s bizarre visual style, and let him play around with many different effects. His foray into film began with my favourite screenwriter Charlie Kaufman, starting with the unusual Human Nature before popping out a film that now sits in my top 5 of all time – Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The Science of Sleep (SoS – because it’s too long a title to keep writing it all the time) is Gondry’s first feature length entirely under his own steam. And boy is it good.

The thing with Gondry is he’s obsessed with dreams, and has a funny knack of transferring that strange muddled dream-world on to film. So SoS is all about Stéphane, a young guy with vivid dreams and difficulty in separating them from the real world – a characteristic that makes things a tad difficult when he starts to fall in love with his neighbour. The film is essentially one of those romantic ones with irritating misunderstandings that have “hilarious” results, but under the whimsical, fantastical brain of Gondry it takes on a whole new tone. I think the best word to describe it is charming. Utterly charming.

Mixing live action with a variety of animation techniques creates a sort of child-like quality to the film (Gondry’s passion for animation is apparent back in his music video days – check out his White Stripes video made almost entirely of lego). Toy horses suddenly scamper across the floor, water becomes animated sweet wrappers, the outside world becomes a pulsating mass of cardboard cut-outs. It could all very easily slip into a mess of ‘huh?’ but Gondry keeps everything in check, with a firm enough grip on reality to make a convincing story.

Gondry penned the script himself and creates flowing, genuinely funny dialogue. It’s helped in its delivery by the lead, Gael Garcia Bernal, who is quite frankly incredibly gorgeous. He’s also a pretty fine actor, making Stéphane sympathetic, endearing, a little bit insane and also quite sexy all at once. He switches from sulking toddler, to loved-up fool, to frightened child, to slightly obsessed crazy, to excitable tot, and not once do you lose belief in his character, even when he comes out with statements like “I like your boobs. They're very friendly and unpretentious.”

I watched this film with a continuous smile broken only by bouts of laughter. At the risk of sounding like one of those pompous critics amused at the slightest thing, it was a joy to watch. My admiration for Gondry’s style probably helps. Though it’s nice to see he’s finally been given a full outlet for his dream fascination, I’d be interested to see where he goes next. I hope he can move his imagination on to other things rather than get stuck doing ‘the dream thing’. But that’s all irrelevant right now. The Science of Sleep told a familiar story in an original way, was visually fascinating and had a big ol’ heart beating behind all of it. It was the most enjoyable film so far this year, I’d say, and for that it storms in with a CF4. Who’s going to step up and try to beat that one? Go on – I dare you.

Cinemafool at the Oscars

The Oscars are a reasonably major event in the world of film, although recently it seems to be more what people wear and how much they cry, than what actually won. I find them quite dubious, mostly due to their insistence on giving Eastwood praise (four nods at directing, two winning) and their sort of naff ‘let’s make up for ignoring’ way of doling out the awards, meaning people like Judi Dench get awarded for a nano-second of time, or Return of the King scores an awards bonanza when the equally good previous two were sort of ignored. It dilutes the impact of the award for me. An ‘Oscar winning’ film is no longer necessarily the best film of the year. Sometimes far from it.

But because Cinemafool likes to have opinions (correct opinions, at that) here is my take on the Oscars 2007:

Best Director: Martin Scorsese
A half-surprise at this one. Marty has been notoriously ignored by Mr Oscar, despite blasting out some of the biggest cult masterpieces (Taxi Driver, Goodfellas, Raging Bull) and some meaty offerings (The Aviator, Gangs of New York). Though The Departed fits more into ‘meaty’ than ‘masterpiece’ (reviewed 14th Oct), this award smacks of “here you go, happy now?’ rather than recognising the film on its own merits.

Saying that, if anyone else had won I’d be ranting on here about what a travesty it is that Marty was shunned yet again. Plus at least Eastwood didn’t win.

Best film: The Departed
See previous comments. The Departed was a good film, making it to the CF Top 10 of 2006, but it doesn’t feel like the BEST film. Still, compared to the quaint but slightly too quirky Little Miss Sunshine (reviewed 17th Oct), the pompous overblown Babel (reviewed 7th Feb), and the I-haven’t-seen-them-but-don’t-fancy-them-therefore-they-must-be-a-bit-rubbish-obviously Letters from Iwo Jima (bloody Eastwood again) and The Queen, I’d have to say that The Departed is the best of the bunch. I am pleased it won.

Best Actor: Forest Whitaker (Last King of Scotland)
As I noted in my review (24th Jan), Forest is worthy of this award, and was my preferred winner anyway. His performance is commanding and certainly gives the film a bit of oh-la-la (as only a mass-murdering crazy person can). Well done Forest.

Best Actress: Helen Mirren (The Queen)
I wasn’t particularly fussed by The Queen – I suspect America’s fascination with the Royals was the root cause of this muscling its way into nominations. I can’t really give much comment. I guess she does good Queen.

Best supporting actor: Alan Arkin (Little Miss Sunshine)
Yeah, he was pretty good. Shame Marky Mark didn’t get one for sporting silly hair in the Departed, though.

Best supporting actress: Jennifer Hudson (Dreamgirls)
I firmly wanted Rinko Kikuchi to nab this one. Her deaf Japanese girl was the best thing in Babel, and I believed firmly deserved a statue. (An Oscar statue, not a literal one. She wasn’t that great).

Best Foreign Language film: Das Leben der Anderen (aka The Lives of Others)
Never heard of it. How can some random German film win when the infinitely better El Laberinto del Fauno (ie Pan’s Labyrinth) was in the same category? I realise saying it’s better when I haven’t seen the other films is a little silly, but come one – Pan was one of the best films of the year and deserves recognition.

Best animated feature film: Happy Feet
I haven’t seen any of the animated entries (the others being Cars and Monster House). The reaction to Happy Feet was positive from those I spoke to, although I had to question their joy. It is dancing penguins after all. Weirdoes.

Best adapted screenplay: The Departed
Fair enough. Children of Men (reviewed 27th Sep) was in this category, but its script was not what made it great.

Best original screenplay: Little Miss Sunshine
Again, Pan’s Labyrinth (reviewed 6th Dec) was popping up in this category. Sunshine was quaint but a little clichéd, though the characters (aside from the mother, as I griped in my review) were nicely etched out. Ok, I give my blessing to this one.

Best original score: Babel
I can’t really remember the music from Babel, except the one song that’s used in the superbly brilliant show Deadwood. Hmm… original score you say?

Best original song: I Need to Wake Up - An Inconvenient Truth (performed by Melissa Etheridge)
Best song? Come on, it’s not the Brits.

Best documentary feature: An Inconvenient Truth
Didn’t watch this one. I know it’s about important things but I just don’t want to hear about it. It’s inconvenient. Ho ho ho.

Best documentary short subject: The Blood of Yingzhou District
I have no idea what this is. Sorry.

Best visual effects: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
Oh God. They gave this an award? Ok, the effects were pretty good (reviewed, sorry, destroyed 13th July). And it was up against Poseidon and Superman Returns. But Christ – awarding it? You’ll just encourage them.

Best cinematography: Pan's Labyrinth
I am pleased, but Children of Men was also in this category and I think both films should be awarded for cinematography. But well done Pan.

Best art direction:Pan's Labyrinth
Hell yeah.

Best animated short film:The Danish Poet
Hmm…

Best action short film: West Bank Story
Mmm hmm…

Best costume design: Marie Antoinette
Yeah it probably had nice clothes.

Best make-up: Pan's Labyrinth
Come on Pan!

Best sound mixing: Dreamgirls
I don’t really know what these awards are for anymore.

Sound editing: Letters from Iwo Jima
Eastwood? Come on, was that just to give him something?

Best film editing: The Departed
Again, Children of Men was in here. Though the beauty of that was the lack of editing in many shots so not sure how the award would win.

In total the Departed and Pan’s Labyrinth came out glowing, scooping four and three awards respectively. Not a bad effort, and not too many gripes for a change. In all an interesting, if not uneventful (and therefore a little boring), Oscars for 2007. And did you see J-Lo’s dress? Christ it was hideous…

21st Feb 07 - For Your Consideration

Sitting inches from a cinema screen seems to be the thing to do at the moment. Last week it was noses-to-the-screen at Hot Fuzz (review to follow in the next couple of weeks when I can watch it from a less upfront position) and this week we were nestled in the Cornerhouse’s living room to watch For Your Consideration, the new comedy from Christopher Guest and co. “Who?” you might ask – to which I’d cuff you round the ear and say “the guys that brought comedy genius into the world through such mock-docs as ‘This is Spinal Tap’ and ‘Best in Show’ you fool.” Then I might apologise if I cuffed you too hard, but really you’d have deserved it.

The likes of Spinal Tap were such winners because the hugely talented ensemble cast threw themselves into the world they were reflecting and created hilarious moments with natural, free-flowing dialogue. The same technique is employed in this new offering, although it mustn’t have taken much preparation to immerse themselves into these roles. The gang play a bunch of actors, film producers and writers.

The story centres on a handful of actors who discover, via internet hype, that their current film may result in an Oscar nomination for their performances. How this potential award changes their attitudes (and in some cases, their actual faces) is the main comic thrust, though there are plenty of opportunities for giggles, be it through Eugene Levy’s useless agent, Jennifer Coolidge’s thicko producer or Guest himself, as the slightly crap director.

The trouble is that despite causing me to chortle, the film also created a frown on completion. The team are experts at this kind of format, but it felt like they were very much aware of this, which perhaps caused them to go on cruise control. Fred Willard turns in a hilarious performance as a dumb and slightly offensive TV presenter. Just looking at some of his outfits, or the trendy ‘ducks arse’ hair style he sports (the guy’s 68) is enough to bring a smile. Trouble is, in Best in Show he plays a dumb and slightly offensive TV commentator. Still just as funny. But watching Consideration you can’t help but feel that they could’ve tried something a little different. Jennifer Coolidge almost always plays a dumb blonde. True, she does it fabulously, but again maybe it’s time she stretched herself. And our very own Ricky Gervais pops up and plays… oh yeah, it’s his ‘Gervais/Brent’ act. Again.

So though Consideration is no doubt funny, with clever little digs at celebrity culture and the problems with hype, it doesn’t boast enough set pieces to match those of the Tap or Best in Show, or even a story as engaging as A Mighty Wind. Instead it’s similar jokes in a different, but not different enough, environment. A great shame, and a conundrum for my ratings. On its own merits this is a funny, clever little film with a brilliant cast, pooing all over the other “comedies” out now (Epic Movie? Come on – stop ripping off everyone else’s jokes just to make the plebs laugh. They’ll laugh at their own reflection, you don’t need to spoil our cinemas on their behalf). But put it in terms of what it could have accomplished and you can’t help but be a little disappointed. I think this deserves more than just a CF0, but I can’t make it any higher than CF1 I’m afraid. If you’re new to Guest then this is worth a gander, but the rest you may find things a little too familiar.

7th Feb 07 - Babel

Here’s a quick insight into how my mind now works while watching a new film (a scary prospect, but bear with me). My opinion starts off at CF0 and then wavers up and down the scale as the film progresses. Imagine a little CF measuring device with a red arm flittering back and forth. That’s my brain. Sometimes it’ll slowly make its way up the scale as the film increases in goodness (see Bobby). Othertimes an event will make it drop to the very bottom (see soppy soppy bits in Casino Royale). At the end of the film I then try to summarise the average reading on my internal CF scale. That’s how it works.

Anyway, the reason I’ve gone into this is because my internal CF measuring device had a long time to waver back and forth with this week’s film. Mainly because this week’s film is about eight days long.

Ok, slight exaggeration. But you certainly get your money’s worth with Babel. It’s 142 minutes and features four different stories, each interlinked in the physical world (the characters having some connection or other) and the arty metaphorical world (they all have, like, communication issues, which is why the film’s called Babel and it’s, like, deep and stuff). To us narrow-minded westerners it was advertised as a Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett vehicle with token foreign co-stars, but in reality the four stories get equal time and attention, located in Morocco, Mexico and Japan.

The high points on my CF scale were rooted to the Japan story of a deaf-mute teenage girl, played by the captivating Rinko Kikuchi (rightly oscar-nominated for best supporting actress). Her character was fascinating, the direction in her segments was superb (especially a blistering club seen through her altered senses) and with a little more to it this could have been a film all on its lonesome. The CF scale was reaching 3.

Then we have Brad and Cate, a married couple taking vacation in Morocco to try and reconcile a few issues (they don’t talk any more – they don’t communicate – see it’s dead clever. Sort of. Well, not that clever.) As disaster strikes their story fades into a mangle of desperation, which is played well by both but seems to just tail off a little at the end. The CF scale wavered down between 1 and 2, dipping when the token British couple appeared who acted like token British twats. Us British, eh? Always such bastards.

The Mexico segment had some of the liveliest scenes (Mexican weddings look fantastic. What a jolly bunch of people) and though it picked up pace towards the end, and I’d enough emotional investment to care what happened to the characters, its finish was also curtailed into a ‘oh’ rather than a ‘wow’. A sort of CF0 to 2 mix on that one.

And finally the fourth segment, focusing on some Moroccan goat farmers, had some moments of well played drama, but again petered out. And that highlights my problem with this film. After such a long investment of my time I wanted a big pay-off at the end. Something to tie everything up, or at least go out with some impact. But no – nothing. My CF scale had gone up and down throughout, rising when characters became well-developed or emotions ran high, then starting to drop as I became aware of the slow passage of time. But with so much potential and an interesting topic to the linguist in me, it was a shame that it wasn’t all put to good use. There was no real lasting impression or ‘message’. I didn’t want a Crash-type film ramming something down my throat, but a small point would’ve been nice.

I mentioned my inner scale at the start to highlight that there were moments in this film that I was putting it at a CF3. But ultimately you have to take films as a whole, and for letting things unravel a bit too much at the end Babel drops down to CF1. Give an Oscar to Rinko. But perhaps just settle for a small applause to Babel.

1st Feb 07 - Bobby

Emilio Estevez has come a long way from his ‘butt in the moonlight walk’ in National Lampoon’s Loaded Weapon 1 (which if you’ve a) not seen, or b) seen and hated, then you should a) watch it – it’s on Channel 5 about five times a day, or b) leave this web site immediately as it is clear you have no soul and I do not wish to write for you anymore).

Sorry, where was I? Oh yes – Emilio has come a long way. He’s not only written and directed Bobby, he’s also roped in a drillion stars to be in it. We’ve got, among others, Anthony Hopkins, Helen Hunt, Laurence Fishburne, Heather Graham, Joshua Jackson, Lindsey Lohan, William H. Macy, Demi Moore, (deep breath), Martin Sheen, Christian Slater, Sharon Stone, Elijah Wood. Basically I could write an entire review just listing the cast, but that isn’t overly interesting so I’ll stop.

With such an ensemble you run the risk of a “Me! Me! No, me!” effect, with a dozen egos battling for attention. And though everyone gets a turn to do a spot of acting, Emilio keeps them all in check so we get good performances rather than “anything you can act, I can act better” stand-offs. The first few minutes of the film are taken up with thoughts along the lines of ‘there’s whats-his-face, is that one Stone? There’s the hobbit, it’s Pacey from Dawson’s Creek!’ But after the novelty factor of star spotting subsides, what are you left with?

Well, the film focuses in on the inhabitants of the Ambassador Hotel on June 6th, 1968 – the day that Robert F. Kennedy was killed. We get to dip in and out of various lives, be they kitchen staff, switchboard girls, managers, hotel guests or people working on Kennedy’s election team. With so many characters it’s impossible to get an in-depth view into their lives, but ultimately they serve only to bring up some whoppingly relevant issues.

I know, I know. I always go on about issues and themes. But when it’s the point of a film you have to note them. Otherwise you’d look at this as a simple story about Bobby’s assassination and you’d say ‘it’s crap – you barely see him and what’s the point of everyone else?’ But let’s taking a running stab at what’s going on here. First off there’s the big one: this is 60’s America suffering from violence, racism, poverty, environmental issues and a war with obscure reasons causing the deaths of thousands. Um, familiar-much? Kennedy was cited as the solution to many of these problems, and his death packs an unpleasant punch when you look at the state of the world today.

But float away from the political and there are some other neat little ideas going on. Our celebrity-obsessed nation is mirrored perfectly. We’ve got a drunkard famous singer talking to her dowdy hairdresser about the short shelf-life of women. Who’s playing them? Demi Moore and Sharon Stone, who are both superb, and both in their forties. They could’ve written that piece themselves no doubt. There’s also Helen Hunt obsessing over her appearance, stressing that her shoes aren’t right and people are going to notice. I couldn’t help but think of the “circle of shame” in crappy celebrity magazines. By using such a well-known cast, these thoughts are given more resonance. Clever Emilio.

There are a few moments where Bobby wavers dangerously into Crash “oh look at me pointing out things really obvious I’m so clever and brilliant and lazy” territory, and perhaps there are one too many monologues or touching moments involving bloody sports (hurray my team’s winning, my entire life troubles are now solved as I smile gleefully like the simple sports-fan that I am). There’s also an unnecessary acid-trip with Ashton Kutcher that is almost embarrassingly trite.

But Bobby washes over all the flaws with its final act, building into an emotional and affecting finish, and a clever mix of footage from past and present. The risk with multiple-character plots is the loss of real empathy with the characters because there’re too many, but Bobby pulls it off by combining everything into a thought-provoking issue-riddled collage. I’m giving it one point for the nicely handled pace and clever use of stars, and another for matching past situations with present to create an affecting piece of film. So Bobby leaps in with CF2.

24th Jan 07 - The Last King of Scotland

I’ve learnt things from this week’s film:

Learnt thing number one: Idi Amin was a wacky man.

Learnt thing number two: calling Idi Amin a ‘wacky man’ does not really justify how horrendous his actions were.

Learnt thing number three: English people are ugly, sandal wearing weasels who spoilt everything.

Learnt thing number four: Scottish people are acceptable to Hollywood.

Learnt thing number five: Forest Whitaker can really act and this performance is justifiably Oscar nominated.

Learnt thing number six: What James McAvoy’s pee pee looks like.

Learnt thing number seven: I’m probably too old to be calling it a ‘pee pee’.

Learnt thing number eight: It’s clever to use a young jolly Scottish (not miserable English) doctor as the window to this fundamental part of Ugandan history.

Learnt thing number nine: Starting a film with an orange happy glow makes the grisly finale interestingly disjointed and therefore gives it more impact.

Learnt thing number ten: Good films can be spoilt a little by only briefly touching on interesting father/son relationships and wedging in parts of Amin’s background in weird, stilted bits of dialogue (“I’m going to tell you about how I grew up… um, there. Told you. Now you can go.”)

Learnt thing number eleven: Having a broken cinema seat makes a two hour film drag. Or getting a bit slow in the middle makes a two hour film drag.

Learnt thing number twelve: If you expect a film to be a powerful, gut-busting piece of cinema and it turns out to be solid but not overwhelming, you are more disappointed than usual.

Learnt thing number thirteen: If you take into consideration learnt thing number twelve, then this film can only make CF0, mainly because of the lack of expected ‘oomph’.

Learnt thing number fourteen: Writing reviews in this fashion is quite easy, and reduces the need to make full sentences.

Learnt thing number fifteen: Taking learnt thing number fourteen into consideration, I could easily write for a tabloid.

17th January 2007 - A Prairie Home Companion

I was crammed into the smallest of screens in a pretentious cinema for this film, the last of Robert Altman’s (director of MASH) before his death at the end of 2006. It’s about the last recording of a live-radio country and western variety show. You know the ones. Well, you don’t – unless you’re from that weird bit in America where they still listen to that sort of crap. Sorry, did that insult any of my two readers? I doubt it.

Anyway, it’s this weirdly archaic show where a variety of country and western singers belt out songs, and alas it’s being shut down. The film takes place entirely on the last performance. And, erm, that’s about it really. Oh, there’s a bit of fantasy stuff too. I’m not really sure why. Or if there’s any point to the story at all, really. But there’s lots of singing. But I don’t find singing that interesting. Oh dear.

My struggle with that last paragraph reflects my struggle with the film. See, there is a lot in there that’s good. Altman’s direction is smooth, with lots of play on reflections. The dialogue is played brilliantly, with characters overlapping each other to create a natural flow throughout the film. There are some amusing songs (especially the ‘bad-jokes’ song, and the sung advertisements). Plus the cast are undeniably great – Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin play singing sisters, with Lindsay Lohan making first steps in an adult film as Streep’s daughter. The ever watchable John C. Reilly and Woody Harrelson are a pair of rude cowboys. Kevin Kline is the madcap producer. And Tommy Lee Jones pops up as the evil guy trying to bring them all down. He could also be the devil, but that’s me trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

But though all the components are good, it feels like they’ve been cobbled together into some weird, incoherent hybrid monster. There’s random bursts of slapstick comedy, some dips into character backgrounds that never really get off the ground, a lot of singing that sometimes could be a parody, but sometimes is just a general song. Kevin Kline is a comical, noir-esque character, but everyone else plays it pretty straight. And there’s a frickin’ angel in it. What the hell is going on?

The only sense I got from it was a chilling nod at the theme of death. Though it’s been advertised as a jolly sing-song, everything in it whiffed of demise. The end of the radio show, the destruction of the theatre, the literal demise of one cast member, the frickin’ angel. Play it against Altman’s unfortunate passing away, and it becomes a sort of goodbye. But it isn’t a goodbye, because Altman was very much alive when he shot it. So it’s either a conscious reference, a subconscious one, or just an unlucky coincidence. Without the coincidence, though, the film feels a little directionless, and felt a lot longer than its 105 minutes. For me, there were too many songs, but then I am a miserable bastard, remember.

It’s taken me a while to figure out how to rate this. On the one hand there are lots of likeable elements. On the other hand, the lack of purpose and (for me) unnecessary constant singing meant I didn’t wholly enjoy it. But on the other hand (this incoherent hybrid monster has three hands) I did spend a long time pondering what it could have meant, and if a film can make me ponder then I commend it. So overall it scrapes a CF0, but only because I’m being generous. I’m nice like that.

10th Jan 07 - Apocalypto

There’s a plethora of negatives attached to this film that will no doubt keep the majority of happy-go-lucky cinema pundits away. It’s directed by Mel Gibson, whose last film was a religious horror, and whose name has been in the press attached to bad things like alcohol, crazy relatives and Jew-bashing. It’s subtitled due to the use of a weird ancient Mayan dialect. It has a cast of complete unknowns. It has a relatively graphic use of violence. And it’s about some ancient weird tribe-folk, so what the hell has that got to do with us joyful Westerners?

But could you just do something for me? Forget who made it. Accept that ancient Mayans would not speak “American”. And just watch it as one of those great films with a great hero who must face a difficult journey filled with adventure. Because that’s all it is. Strip away all the supposed alienating qualities and you’ve got a basic adventure story. And you know what? It’s bloody good.

I of course had my reservations. But within the opening five minutes I was instantly engaged. These strange men, with bones through their noses, spouting a weird language and living in a forest are shown bantering, playing practical jokes and complaining about their mother-in-laws. The unknown suddenly becomes the familiar, and all it took was five minutes. It seems that Gibbo’s a clever story-teller.

What follows is a bracing tale as our hero ‘Jaguar Paw’ is taken away from his family and must make a dangerous trip in order to return to them. I won’t go into any further detail to avoid ruining it (unlike most other reviewers) but as guide to how absorbing the story is, I didn’t feel like I’d been sitting for 139 minutes, I forgot that the cinema was about minus five in temperature, and I accidentally drank my companions drink instead of my own (sorry about that).

Violence is present, but in a controlled fashion, so that the worst injuries are more suggested with quick editing than gratuitously put on screen. The actual gore is far less than that in your Hostel or Saw genre, but because you feel more for the characters the impact is tenfold. I know I’m not too fussed with your basic impaling and beheading, but my (now drink-less) companion is not a fan of violence in the slightest, but found it to be just about manageable.

You could try to read into the film, maybe finding a crazed religious leader taking too much pride in his land, destroying the earth and needlessly sacrificing men a little too familiar. But let’s not – let’s just watch it for what it is. A film with good characters, tension, excitement, (making me mentally utter the famous line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail: “run away! Run away!”) strong direction and even a tapir-mounted camera. Come on – a camera on the back of a running tapir. How can you not like it?

Of course, the story isn’t quite deep enough to warrant a huge emotional or intellectual impact, and the sprint to the finish ends in more of a half-hearted jog than a beefy finale that might’ve satisfied a little more. But this is still a good film. Keeping in mind the CF ratings have been updated (see the review of 2006), I’m awarding Apocalypto a point for being exciting, engaging and surprisingly fabulous, and another point for having a camera on a tapir, bringing it to CF2. Ignore everything you think will be bad, overcome your prejudices against the director and the subtitles, and you will be nicely surprised.

3rd January 07 - Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

The first film of 2007 smells. All right, not literally. But it felt like someone was trying to rub salt in the wound as a whole film about the power of scent is shown to a girl whose nose is bunged up with a left-over Christmas cold.

But anyway, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, is based on the best selling novel ‘Das Parfum’ by Patrick Suskind. It tells the story of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, a young chap born into grotty Paris with a remarkably fantastic sense of smell. His talent allows him to create spell-binding perfumes, but his real passion is the luxurious scent of a woman (well, we do smell nice, don’t we) and he becomes obsessed with finding a way to capture the smell. Unfortunately for us women, the best way to capture the smell involves whacking us over the head and wrapping up our dead bodies in animal fat. Mmm.

The lead is young Brit Ben Whishaw, whose credits include Layer Cake, Enduring Love and ‘Pingu’ off Nathan Barley. He manages to portray a freakish murderer with huge dollops of naivety, holding his wincingly scrawny body awkwardly, portraying most of his feelings without speech and making me want to cuddle him (is that wrong?) Considering he was probably told ‘act like you’re smelling nice things’ for about 90% of the film, he does a damn good job, and carries the long, dialogue-free portions of the film with surprising ease.

But making a film all about smells has its difficulties. Smell-o-vision has yet to be invented (why is that? We have 3-D, even the implausible 4-D rides at Disney – why no smell-o-vision eh?) so you’d expect a film that revolves so heavily around the idea of scent to employ some interesting tactics to convey the right pongs to the audience. Unfortunately, a huge creative opportunity is missed, and we instead get close ups of things in slow motion. Look, he smells fish – close up of a fish – look, he smells woman – close up of a woman’s hair – look, he smells shit – close up of… well, you get the point. Granted, it points out what he’s smelling, but after two hours of the same technique you start to tire. There are so many visual and aural tools available that could have brought this film to life, making the audience experience a rich, interesting world, mirroring Jean-Baptiste’s experiences. But instead we just get close-ups.

A few other niggles may include the common; ‘aye up I is a cock-erny Parisian’ and the inclusion of Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman playing themselves. Again. Also the kindly old-man narration that handily explains lots of things and makes it sound like a children’s story. With a tale like this there are many directions they could have taken, some of them interesting and different and darkly daring. They didn’t go for those. Instead they went for safe. Which doesn’t produce a bad film, just not an outstanding one.

And this isn’t a bad film. Despite the niggles, the plot is unusual and deals with some interesting ideas. Your scent is cited as being your very soul, and poor old Jean-Baptiste discovers he doesn’t have a scent of his own. When he concocts the ultimate scent, the resulting reaction and his slow realisation of the importance of human contact and love makes for an interesting little fable. It’s like a Just So story. But with murder and nudity.

For the plot and the strength of lead actor Ben Whishaw, Perfume reaches the recommendable CF0, but it fails to gain any further points due to missing out on an abundance of creative opportunities and for having silly accents. First flick of 2007 – CF0. Let’s see if we can improve on that.

The Cinemafool Review of 2006

It’s hard to believe 2006 has rolled past already. With 41 films seen in 2005, I can happily reveal that this year I’ve seen not just 41, not just 42, but a plentiful 43 new films at the cinema. Not bad considering I spent two months away from the big screen with my foot caked in bandages and scar tissue. And lest us not forget the trips to the cinema that have not been noted on this site, be it obscure old foreign flicks (the German ‘23’ – thanks Kinoland, quite enjoyed that one), the old classics (Nightmare Before Christmas, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas) or the “oh my God I didn’t remember this being so frickin’ depressing” Watership Down.

But let’s get to the important stuff. The top 10 of 2006. Below is the list in chronological order. You may notice I have included an updated rating. This is because I’m trying to utilise my CF points more in 2007, with CF5 being maximum brilliance, CF0 being recommended, and CF-5 being maximum shite. The updated ratings for these 10 films will be used as a guide for next year’s reviews.

So here we go – the Top 10 of 2006. You seen any?

A Cock & Bull Story
What: Michael Winterbottom’s attempt at an unfilmable book, with a blend of fiction and realism.
Seen: 1st February
Rating given: 8
Updated rating: CF2
I said then: Sometimes amusing, but not an out-and-out comedy… a refreshing attempt at something new.
I say now: Slightly misunderstood, you probably have to be a bit pretentious to get it. But look to the comparisons between Coogan and his character and you’ll see this is a smart little film with some brilliant little touches.
I also used the phrase: I’m so far up my own arse.

Tsotsi
What: Emotional Oscar winner for best foreign language film about a thug who ends up looking after a baby.
Seen: 27th April
Rating given: 8.5/10
Updated Rating: CF3
I said then: Afterwards I was left with a wedge of emotion… anyone who feels nothing after watching this film doesn’t just have a heart of stone – they’re soulless evil.
I say now: Still a solid film, and though I wouldn’t rush to watch it over and over, I’d definitely recommend it.
I also used the phrase: I’m not even a big fan of babies.

Brick
What: High school film noir, with Third Rock From The Sun’s Joseph Gordon-Levitt as a pupil solving the murder of his girl.
Seen: 16th May
Rating given: CF2
Updated rating: CF2
I said then: Keep noir in your mind and it hits the spot… there was some good stuff in this film.
I say now: Joseph Gordon-Levitt is the driving force behind Brick’s entry into the top 10. It’s on my radar as a film to watch again, and with his solid performance and some unusual and creative direction, this is a good, original (well, is a homage ever really original?) effort for the year.
I also used the phrase: A glasses-wearing hero who isn’t a dweeb.


Tideland
What: Terry Gilliam’s insane style is applied to the story of a young girl who makes friends with her dolls’ heads and some creepy creepy neighbours.
Seen: 8th August
Rating given: CF1
Updated rating: CF2
I said then: If you accept its differences and are willing to open your mind, you may well enjoy Tideland… it dared to be a bit different, the performances were impressive… well done Terry.
I say now: Stuck with me, this one, and I’ve marked it as one to re-watch. Bit of an odd one, but there’s something distinctly charming about it. Go on. Try it and see.
I also used the phrase: a mind-fuck.

A Scanner Darkly
What: Adaptation of Philip K Dick’s book on addiction, starring Keanu Reaves all animated with rotoscope technology.
Seen: 23rd August
Rating given: CF2
Updated rating: CF3
I said then: The essence of the book was captured successfully… realising Dick’s idea perfectly.
I say now: Visually one of the most captivating films of the year, and probably the closet adaptation of Dick’s work to date.
I also used the phrase: Like giving Ben Affleck a crayon.

Severance
What: British comedy/horror sees a bunch of office workers picked off in the woods by a creepy dude.
Seen: 30th August
Rating given: CF1
Updated rating: CF2
I said then: A decent script, likeable characters and some moments of absurd hilarity. This is why it shines. Best way to sum it up is “knife in the arse”. In reality, it’s pretty damn unpleasant. But it’s also funny as hell.
I say now: This makes the top 10 because it was so much fun. Fun horror, fun comedy. And amongst all the darkness of this top 10, you need a bit of fun. Especially when it’s done this well.
I also used the phrase: Creepy dude with a pair of shears.


Right At Your Door
What: LA dirty bomb drama that bypasses the disaster flick and goes right for the human heart.
Seen: 24th September
Rating given: CF2
Updated rating: CF4
I said then: An emotional, unsettling drama worthy of your attention.
I say now: Still makes me shudder, this is a little film with a big impact. Watch it.
I also used the phrase: Reminded me of a scene in Watership Down.

Children Of Men
What: Chilling vision of a buggered future with no kids and a crap government obsessed with illegal immigrants.
Seen: 27th Sep 06
Rating given: CF3
Updated rating: CF5
I said then: I just command you to watch this film… a chilling yet believable view of the future and some stupendous direction.
I say now: Still in my mind as one of the best films seen this year. It’s a tad bleak, but oh so very good.
I also used the phrase: average action pleb.


The Departed
What: Scorsese’s third film with DiCaprio, combining mafia/police mole confusion into a bulky drama.
Seen: 14th October
Rating given: CF2
Updated rating: CF4
I said then: The plot is sly… the performances spot on…a master-class in acting and directing.
I say now: A good introduction to Scorsese for beginners, or another solid contribution to his impressive CV. Beefy acting, engaging plot. Another brilliant effort.
I also used the phrase: Probably all tourists.


Pan’s Labyrinth
What: Dark Spanish film that sets the horrors of the Spanish civil war set against a little girl’s fantasies inside a creepy Labyrinth.
Seen: 6th Dec
Rating given: CF2
Updated rating: CF3
I said then: An unsettling but compelling experience. It boasts a strong cast, prominent direction and awesome effects.
I say now: The most recently seen of the top 10, but its sheer presence and texture make this a strong contender this year. Not a frolic of fun, but definitely worth your attention.
I also used the phrase: David Bowie’s gigantic crotch.


2006: The Turkeys
There were a few films that got my goat this year, either for being a bit disappointing, irritatingly bland or just utter shite. The main culprits were:

Little Fish
What: Cate Blanchett plays Aussie drug addict.
Seen: 26th July
Rating given: CF-1
Updated rating: CF-2
I used phrases like:
Lots of slow build-up, then just a big fizzle at the end.
Well acted, but long and quite frankly boring.
Insignificant.
More like one of those single cell organisms at the very depths of the sea.


Angel A
What: Luc Besson’s black and white guardian angel blah blah blah.
Seen: 9th August
Rating given: CF-1
Updated rating: CF-2
I used phrases (with the voice of Karen the Producer) like:
It might look very pretty, Luc, but that doesn’t make it a good film.
Your plot is as skeletal as your angel.
God I’d be a great producer.

The History Boys
What: Film adaptation of Alan Bennett’s stage play about school boys trying to get into Oxbridge.
Seen: 1st November
Rating given: CF-2
Updated rating: CF-4
I used phrases like:
The boys were irritating little pricks… I just wanted them all to die horribly.
Characterisation, Spice-Girl style.
The dialogue continued to pour forth like bacterial infected blood from a relentlessly singing, poetry-quoting wound.
All in all I seem to be much crosser than I had originally planned.

And finally. The big tamale.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest.
What: Endless, pointless drivel. At sea.
Seen: 13th July 06
Rating given: CF-3
Updated rating: CF-5
Choice phrases:
150 minutes long.
One hundred and fifty minutes.
The sort of thing that young children come up with when they start to make little sense and get a bit annoying.
Orlando Bloom… the simpleton you can’t shout at… so bad it made me wonder if this was tongue-in-cheek acting.
Keira Knightly… orange face, square jaw and smugness that oozes from every pore.
To have a crap film take up 150 minutes of my life with crap, and then end in a crap way without resolving anything. It’s just taking the piss.
Bastards.

Most Ironic Fact of the Year
Highest grossing film of the year… Shite Pirates of the Shite-ibbean. It grossed over $1 billion.
Thus confirming my view that the majority of the public are idiots.

Second Most Ironic Fact of the Year
I’m highly aware that I saw Shite Pirates of the Shite-ibbean, and therefore contributed to its $1 billion travesty. I only hope that everyone else who saw it also realised their mistake, and the third film tanks like a big, fat, lead-filled tank.

The End

So there you have it. That was 2006. There’s a list of ten films for you to watch. There’s a couple you shouldn’t bother with. Bring on 2007. Let’s see what you have to offer.

13th Dec 06 - Stranger Than Fiction

Remember when Jim Carrey made a host of wacky comedies, carving himself a role as THE comic actor of choice, and then he made a serene, gorgeous film called The Truman Show that threw up interesting ideas about life and showed he had a different kind of acting bone in his body? Remember that? Well guess what Will Ferrell’s done…

Yup, Stranger Than Fiction is, like The Truman Show, an unusual story with a few sparks of humour, but overall a darker tone for what you might consider a ‘mainstream’ film. It features an actor known for loud crazy outbursts acting all quiet and subdued. And has a God-like character overseeing everything. It’s deja-vu, but in a really good way.

Stranger Than Fiction has Ferrell as Harold Crick, a solitary man who leads quite a boring little life, until he suddenly starts to hear a woman’s voice narrating everything he does. Cut to struggling author Kay Eiffel played by Emma Thompson, whose new book is about a solitary man called Harold Crick… The trailer made this look like one of those ‘quirky comedies’ made for Christmas, that try to be clever but end up being shit. But I found myself pleasantly surprised to see a bold idea that unravels into a fascinating study of how you face your life, and your own mortality.

Ferrell is the driving force, and like Carrey, he pulls off the crestfallen look with charm, only occasionally descending into his trademark shouts. It’ll be interesting to see if he pursues this change of acting, or go back to what he does best. He’s supported by the brilliantly dowdy Emma Thompson (come on the Brits) and the likeable, nearly too cute Maggie Gyllenhaal, who plays the token love interest with a bit of sass.

This film engaged me. The plot engaged me, the characters did, and I actually had those emotion thingys that people talk about. I liked it. But here’s why it’s not getting top marks.

It’s a neat idea that’s nicely done, but it’s a little bit lazy. Characters are mega-clichés. Harold is an accountant who’s boring and is obsessed with numbers (stretch of the imagination, that one. Though seriously, I know many accountants and most are a nice bunch with only a healthy liking for figures). The novelist is a bit weird and a chain-smoker who wears a big cardigan. They drag in Queen Latifah, (who, if she wants to be taken seriously as an actress, should really change her name from ‘Queen’) who plays the most pointless role as an assistant to Kay. A role that should have been described as ‘filler so novelist has someone to explain her feelings to because I can’t be bothered finding a better way to show it.’ Similarly, the use of Kay as narrator to Harold feels ever so slightly like cheating. We get to hear everything he’s thinking and feeling without any effort at all. Magic.

But despite that barrage of pickiness, this is still a solid film, and a refreshing addition to your everyday multiplex. Maybe in more creative hands this could’ve been a masterpiece. As it was, this is an enjoyable, engaging film with a strong cast and a reasonably original idea. It gets a point for creating an absorbing two hours, and I’m giving it an extra point because I enjoyed it so much more than I thought I would. Clawing its way at my impending ‘Top 10 of 2006' (will it make it? Stay tuned to find out…) Stranger Than Fiction gets CF2.

6th Dec 06 - Pan's Labyrinth

According to the 80’s classic, Labyrinths are huge mazes full of strange Jim Henson creations, jolly musical interludes and David Bowie’s gigantic crotch. My tip of the day is this: Do not expect the same from Pan’s Labyrinth.

Expect instead a dark, textured, disturbing-as-hell piece that’s most certainly not for kiddies. It’s Spain in 1944, and young Ofelia travels with her pregnant mother to stay with her new stepfather, a captain dealing with the remnants of the Spanish civil war. Ofelia loves reading elaborate fairy tales, and as her mother battles with a difficult pregnancy, Ofelia stumbles across a strange labyrinth filled with mysterious beasties. So far so blah – it could easily be one of those made-for-Christmas kiddie flicks with words like ‘magical’ and ‘enchanting’ attached to it.

But this is from Mexican director Guillermo del Toro, who’s responsible for things like Hellboy and Blade II. His new film is enchanting, but enchanting in the same way that a dripping hell-beast slowly dragging itself over the ground towards you might be enchanting. You’re certainly captivated, but you’re definitely freaking out at the same time. Guillermo designed the beasties himself, the most notable being ‘the Pale-Man’, a hairless baby-eater who inserts his eyes into his palms before commencing chase. Bowie’s crotch was disturbing, but christ, the Pale-Man would scar you for life if you encountered that as a child.

But the labyrinth inhabitants aren’t the only nasty things in this film. Ofelia’s new step dad, Capitan Vidal, is what you might call a bit of a twat. A violent fascist with a fondness for torture, who makes the giant toad Ofelia must deal with look like a cuddly rabbit. The action is split evenly between Ofelia’s adventures in her labyrinth and the ongoing battle between the Capitan and the resistance.

The look of Pan’s Labyrinth is darkly fantastic, but the sound of it adds brilliant texture. Slightest sounds – the creak of leather boots, the sharp crack of a bullet, the thwack of a hammer against face – are enhanced, making Ofelia’s world feel very much alive. The violence is brutal and shocking, but expertly cut. Very little gore is seen, but you most certainly feel it.

The parallels between the real world and the mythical are generally obvious (you'd have to be a fool not to notice the link between scary, monsterous daddy and scary, monsterous, err, monster) but cleverly executed, and the two compliment each other to produce an unsettling but compelling experience. It boasts a strong cast, prominent direction and awesome effects (considering the budget was around $13m – compare that to the $200m of Superman and you realise how absurd Hollywood can be).

For having a substantial impact on me, Pan gets an extra point, and I’m giving it another for portraying fantasy without relying on too many clichés or singing dwarves. Therefore, Pan’s Labyrinth stomps in with a chilling CF2. Watch it. Be enthralled. But don’t expect a fun romp in a maze. Or a big British crotch.

29th Nov 06 - Casino Royale

I don’t like Bond. As a franchise it’s dumb. Dumb action films aimed at blokes. They objectify women, have rubbish puns, laughably silly baddies, an impossibly-good-at-everything lead and there’s always a winter chase on weird jet powered skis. It’s paint-by-numbers entertainment for easily pleased (some might say “simple”) minds. Like I said, it’s aimed at blokes.

Insulting people is fun.

Anyway, the new Bond had words like ‘dark’, ‘violent’ and ‘realistic’ attached to it. They’ve changed the franchise, Batman Begins style, and I was curious to see the results. Spurred on by my MI:3 fun, I pushed past the crowds and faced my Bond hatred head-on. And it wasn’t half bad. By that I mean half of it wasn’t bad. This is a grittier, nastier Bond to the fancy pants smarmy-arse of recent times. The grainy opening battle in the close confines of a toilet cubicle sets the tone. Fights are brutal, angry, bloody. They’re also flamboyant in places, but in less of a silly ‘surfing on a car’ way and more like ‘leaping over cranes’ excitement. There are so many different action pieces I can’t actually remember them all. But I never once rolled my eyes at some unbelievable stunt, so that’s a good sign.

And Daniel Craig. My God. There was this big hoo-har about how you can’t have a blonde Bond, Craig’s not handsome enough, it’ll never work. To that I say ‘Bond is fictional, get over it.’ And I’ll now add ‘have you seen him? I mean, like, actually seen him?’ Because if you have, you’ll know. Craig IS Bond. He has the effortless charm, the sly little smile, the CGI-blue eyes (come on, no one’s eyes can be that blue). And he certainly has the right physique. Bond is a trained killer, after all, and Craig looks like he could very easily kill you. With his big biceps. Lovely big biceps. And he gets stabbed a bit in his smooth, hard stomach. And is naked during a torture scene. Quite frankly, I am now in love with Daniel Craig, and anyone who dares say he isn’t handsome enough will face my wrath.

Crazy fans of Bond might throw their hands up in rage. They can’t change Bond like that! It’s an institution! But despite the darker edges, this is still very much a Bond flick. Women are still around as sexual objects or whimpering idiots. The baddy is the most ludicrously evil-looking baddy ever, sporting a Dr. Evil style eye scar and weeping, yes, actually weeping blood. There are fast cars and nice clothes and glamorous locations. It’s still Bond. Just better. This Bond is human. He’s arrogant, makes mistakes, gets hurt and has lovely thighs.

But as I said before, only half of this film is good. Unfortunately it loses its thrilling impact because it goes on for EVER. At 144 mins (still not the 150 mins of Shit Pirates of the Shit-ibbean) the novelty begins to wear thin, especially as the films ends and then has twenty minutes of naff romance. I know exactly why this was (to show why Bond is like he is, bless him) but there was no need to drag it out for that long and in that way. It’s such a shame, because I was really enjoying this film. But rather than leave the cinema with that excited rush, I instead left a bit annoyed and bored.

Bond gets a point for roughing up the franchise and bringing a better, tougher Bond to the screen. It gets another point because I am in love with Daniel Craig. But it loses a point for getting carried away with itself and going on and on and on. So Bond marches in with CF1.

15th Nov 06 - The Prestige

There’s been the strangest reaction to this film. Despite a fantastic director (Christopher Nolan - him what darkened Batman and gave Pacino insomnia) and a meaty cast (Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, Michael Caine and Smug Johansson) most critics seem to have taken a dislike to it. Calling it nasty names like ‘boring’ and giving it no stars. But something you must remember is that critics aren’t always right.

Except this one, of course.

Ignore every bad review. They’re idiots. This is a solid, original thriller, handled by a fabulous (British) director and two very strong leads. The story revolves around two rival magicians and their complete and utter obsession with magic. Their obsessions escalate to the point of thieving, sabotage and violence, and through flashback-within-flashback their story is told. There’s magic tricks, romance, thrills, death and a tiny spattering of comedy. What more do you want?

Bale and Jackman are competent front men, Jackman just nudging ahead with a wider variety of emotions, while Bale, though ever brilliant, still has that slightly smarmy mouth that removes empathy a tad. Even Johansson avoids my wrath with an understated performance (well, as understated as you can be dressed in a corset as a magician’s assistant). And Nolan handles the choppy timeframe perfectly. He’s had practice – his first film being the backwards Memento, which was written by his brother Jonathan, who also co-writes the Prestige screenplay. Memento (in my top 5 films) left me reeling with its brilliance, and though The Prestige doesn’t have quite the same impact, it still has a refreshingly original feel to it, especially compared to the current prequel/sequel/franchise movement.

Perhaps the main flaw is in the delivery of the film’s “trick”. Rather than it finish with a “my, didn’t see that coming” blast, it was more a gradual reveal, leading to a “I think it must be… oh yes it is.” But at least it was engaging enough to make you tot up all the clues to begin with, and there were moments where my heart was beating that little bit faster as I anticipated something nasty was about to happen…

The Prestige is a dark, intriguing thriller, with a brilliant cast and director. It’s gaining an extra point for engaging me and teaching me a little bit about magic. Poo to all you nasty critics – this gets CF1.

10th Nov 06 - The Page Turner

A thriller about a girl who turns the pages for a piano player? I can just see it now. Will she not turn a page fast enough so they end up out of time? Will the pianist stumble and miss a note? Edge of your seat stuff.

I’m being foolish, of course. The ‘thrill’ aspect derives from the revenge tactics of the page turner herself, and the dependent relationship she forges with the pianist. Melanie, you see, has a bit of a grudge. During her childhood piano exam she was put off by one of the examiners and subsequently failed. Many years later she just happens to be working for the very same examiner. Uh-oh. Though really, holding that kind of grudge for something so minimal? Crazy-much? Well, actually, yes. Melanie is two forks short of a pretentious cutlery set. She skulks around with a creepy stare, casually hinting that she’s capable of bad things, obviously obsessed with the pianist. But though some characters notice there’s something up with Melanie, the object of her obsession / revenge becomes utterly dependent on her. And so Melanie can exact her revenge. Mwuhaha.

Unfortunately, Melanie’s revenge turns out to be a bit of a let down. Tension was built, Melanie was played perfectly by Deborah Francois with a sinister coolness, and there were dabs of excitement here and there. But it all came crashing down at the end. Actually, ‘crashing’ isn’t the right word. It was more of a muffled ending, like running into a wall of marshmallow. It stops you, but in an unremarkable way. Not that a literal wall of marshmallow would be unremarkable. It would, in fact, be quite exciting to run into an entire wall made of marshmallow. The Page Turner was more like flopping against a hard pillow. Or an airbag. It just was an unremarkable ending, ok?

Perhaps a lot of the film’s impact was lost during translation. This was a film less about action, and much more about words and emotion, which, unfortunately, is often lost when reading the dialogue at the bottom of the screen. There was an interesting relationship developed, but ultimately I found little motivation to keep on turning any pages, and was disappointed by the ending. The Page Turner flicks back to CF-1. And apologies for the lucid nature of today’s review – I seem to have a bit of a temperature, which may have made my mind wander. I now quite fancy some marshmallow…

8th Nov 06 - Borat

This week was the rare chance to see a film that most people have heard of, and have actually been to see. Borat, or if you want to use the full title, Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, stormed into cinemas after making amused waves in the summer festivals. Critics were coming out with melodramatic statements like ‘you’ll laugh so much you’ll puke’ and the hype monster, as mentioned in the Brick review, was threatening to strike.

With all this in mind, it was with some trepidation that I entered the cinema. I was fond of Borat already after watching his appearances on Da Ali G Show, with his awkward interviews and finger-chewingly uncomfortable expositions of the backwards parts of American (people gaily singly along with Borat as he recounts the song “Throw the Jew Down the Well”). And with his foray into film, you won’t be surprised to find a similar format. Not that that’s a bad thing. Watching Borat interview a bunch of feminists (“our scientists proved that women have smaller brains”) or try his hand at driving lessons brings laugh after embarrassed laugh, as his subjects patiently deal with his sexist, anti-Jew views.

But to beef up the film, Borat expands into a full-on story, as the intrepid TV presenter explores America to make a documentary for back home, and falls in love along the way. All right, it’s not much of a story, but it gives excuse for some fabulous set pieces, the most notable being a fight scene that trounces the Jackass boys for sheer gross entertainment. Other highlights include the xenophobic nature of New York inhabitants (I’d probably run away too if a gangly ‘foreign’ type tried to kiss me) and the gun shop owner who’s happy to recommend the best weapon for killing a Jew. Borat has the ability to show the scariest attitudes of the voting US of A public, and manages to make Michael Moore style points in smaller, funnier, bursts. Not bad for a film with a ‘turd in a bag’ joke.

But, amusing as it was, my laughter didn’t turn into vomit as promised. Perhaps it was because the two bumper trailers I’d been exposed to featured a variety of the best punch lines. Perhaps it was the stunted interview segments, that when nestled into the rest of the plot ended up feeling a little awkward and tacked on. Perhaps the scenes featuring obvious actors cast a cloud of doubt over the supposedly ‘real’ encounters. I suspect it’s because the reviewers that went crazy over it had never seen Borat before, and the entire concept was like some shiny new comedy, rather than a TV-to-film creation.

Still, you’ve got to hand it to creator Sacha Baron Cohen. He’s created a lovable character, despite the outlandish views, and his physical comedy is superb. So yes, funny. But no, not the funniest thing ever. Tinged by the hype monster, I came out feeling ever so slightly let down. But for 84 minutes it’s definitely worth a watch, and for the sheer balls of Sacha Baron Cohen (intentional pun, there) I’m giving this an extra point. Borat makes CF1.

1st Nov 06 - The History Boys

Ok. I haven’t seen the West End version of this. I’m therefore going to be reviewing it based solely on the film’s impact, not the play. So any West End rah-de-rah fans trying to defend the original can put down their duelling gloves. Though they could pick them back up again to defend against the outrageous stereotype I’ve just written.

To get to the bottom of my problem with this film (that’s right. I have a problem with it) I have to quickly point out something. There’s a big difference between a stage play and a film. Granted both are story-telling mediums, and I like both equally. But they are still different. You can show in film, whereas you have to rely more on telling in theatre. Mainly because film gives you control over the audience’s focus. You can edit scenes, use lighting, framing and close-ups. In theatre you can still use clever lighting, but you can’t show the intricate twitches of an actor’s eyes to indicate their feelings. There is no zoom in theatre. Unless the actors pause and suddenly side step up to the audience’s faces. A concept which, though amusing, is implausible, especially when there’s tiered seating. So theatre relies more heavily on dialogue, be it clever (conversations that reveal hidden intentions and emotions) or a bit of a cop-out (bloody monologues). And in film, though dialogue is still very important, there are more elements to play with.

So, to the point of my ramblings. The History Boys is a play, and on screen it is still very much a play. A play without the intimate atmosphere of a theatre. Though the cast are obviously very talented, they are still belting out their lines as if to make sure the people at the back can hear. We can all hear boys – there’s a fricking great microphone above your heads. Every line, though often wittily constructed by accomplished writer Alan Bennett, is punched out, word for word, clear enough so you can hear it but with little or no true emotion. Again, it probably works brilliantly on stage. But on film it left me completely unengaged with the characters, save for a couple who were played, not surprisingly, by more experienced actors on screen. Richard Griffiths, Frances de la Tour and Stephen Campbell Moore were the trio of teachers who managed to deliver their lines in a quieter, mumbled fashion, like what we do in the real world.

And ok, maybe my biggest vice is unrealistic dialogue, a common problem in play-to-screen types (see Closer) so maybe I’m being more pedantic than usual. But I was, how to put it, BORED a lot of the time. It didn’t help that the ‘boys’ (played by actors who seemed to range from 18 to 30 years old) were irritating little pricks. I mean, really. I was sniped at for being a swot at school (unfairly – I wasn’t out to please the teachers, I just had a brain) but at least I didn’t quote poetry and break into song all the time. I know I was supposed to care whether the lads got into Oxbridge or not, but to be honest I just wanted them all to die horribly. Extra irritation ensued because of the token characters. Yey to PC, there’s a black kid and an Asian one, but their characters were so totally underdeveloped that it meant the only thing you could define them by was their race, which surely goes against the PC point. There was also a fat one, a gay one, a religious one, a thick one (why he was in the mix of lads trying for Oxbridge, I don’t know) and a flirty one. It’s characterisation, Spice-Girl style.

Side plots involving a kiddie-fiddling teacher who we were supposed to feel sorry for because he was a ‘nice chap’ were just odd. And it had about three or four endings, all of which made the point of the piece more and more obscure. What was it about? Homosexuality in schools? Differing teaching styles and their effect on pupils? History? Perhaps I completely missed the point, and it’s probably because I stopped listening as the dialogue continued to pour forth like bacterial infected blood from a relentlessly singing, poetry-quoting wound.

I can see that this would be a good piece on stage, and it obviously is since it’s been very successful. But its transfer to film has been, quite frankly, lazy. The dialogue and the delivery need to be smudged and blended so that it flows more smoothly in the film environment. The script should have been altered to account for the new medium. It doesn’t need elaborate explanations of people’s feelings anymore – we can see them, or we should be able to. All in all I seem to be much crosser than I had originally planned, so instead of losing the one point for clunky transition to screen, it’s losing an extra point for making me rant for longer than usual. Fair? By the book of Cinemafool it is, and it’s getting CF-2.