Crikey. What a cinema experience. Traumatic isn’t the word. Ok, so what do you expect when you decide to watch a Romanian film about abortion? Certainly not a laugh-a-minute rom-com, with hilarious misunderstandings and a slap-stick interlude where people slip up on some mess and everyone has a good giggle. No, we knew this was going to be a tough-one, but with critics praising (although as the shitey Dylon biog proved, that isn’t always a good sign) and awards folk prowling (Golden Globe nominated, and potentially Oscar, although we’ll find out more this week) this was a film that had to be checked out. Plus, how smart do I look watching a Romanian film eh? Go on, say it. I’m well clever me. I can read words on the screen and everything.
4-3-2 (as all the cool kids dub it) is justly praised in most respects, tackling an uncomfortable subject and setting it in 80’s Romania where such things are illegal and could land you a jail sentence. But meek student Gabriela is desperate, and enlists best friend Otilia to help her in her plight. The film is set over just one day, and follows the girls from their initial preparations, through to the event itself and subsequent aftermath. But just when you thought things couldn’t be bleak enough, their enlisted medical “helper” Bebe, a quiet middle-aged bloke in a nice jumper, throws a few extra unpleasant conditions their way. Vera Drake he ain’t, let’s just put it that way.
Using an unusual method of mostly static shots and lengthy scenes makes it feel in parts like you’re watching a play, and adds to the uncomfortable realism of it all. It works perfectly in places, especially during the price negotiation scene between Bebe and the girls, as the slow realisation of the real cost dawns on both girls. As each scene advances towards the inevitable, your growing tension matches that of Gabriela and it all makes for a very powerful experience. As I sat there watching Bebe unpack a variety of implements, I knew very much what was to come, and was pretty certain that actually I didn’t want to see it. But I was trapped, powerless to stop watching. It reminded me of a time I went on the Viper rollercoaster - the tallest looping coaster in the world - and suddenly realised as the train began to advance up the hill that actually I didn’t really want to go on it, and that getting into that seat was a really bad idea. But the restraints meant I couldn’t get off, and so I miserably watched as the train got higher and higher towards the unavoidable conclusion. I nearly blacked out on that first drop, but the rest was quite fun.
Speaking of blacking out, the main component of my traumatic cinema experience wasn’t the aborted foetus staring at me from the screen, but the petrifying antics of one of my companions, who is under strict instructions never to do that ever again. Ever. Thankfully all became well, but such activities meant I missed a small chunk of the middle of this film, and means that I’m not completely able to assess the film in full. Frankly, though, I don’t think I missed too much, and the general gist of the film - that of friendship, hardship and unrelenting awful occurrences - still came across strong. Amazing performances, bold direction and an undeniably powerful effect, 4-3-2 is certainly a remarkable piece of film. But not one that left me with any new thoughts, that I’d clamour to watch again, or that I’d particularly recommend to anyone else, unless I wanted them to think I was dead clever. Or a bit sick. So, bit of a struggle this one. I’ll settle for a CF0 rating, I think. Go on the Viper rollercoaster instead, though. It’s a lot quicker.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
12th Jan 08 - Lust, Caution
I couldn’t help but notice the audience for this film was made up of an interesting number of boys in their late teens / early twenties. They could have been there because of Ang Lee, fascinated to see what the director has in store for us next since his career has veered from period drama (Sense & Sensibility) to pretentious martial arts (Crouching Tiger) to men in love (Brokeback Mountain) to a big green bloke who you should keep away from when he’s a bit miffed (Hulk). They could have been there because they were absolutely fascinated with Chinese history during the end of the second world war, and were keen on watching a 157 minute film, largely in Mandarin, to find out more. Or, and forgive me for being a little bit cynical, they could well have picked this film because it features several scenes that are so graphic they have been dubbed by some as verging on porn.
But hey - even if the lads were after cheap thrills, they ended up subjecting themselves to a piece of richly satisfying and absorbing film. Perhaps the only chance they’ll get for such enrichment before stumbling back home to play on Champ Manager for seven hours. Anyhoo, back to Lust, Caution; two words explored in depth by Lee in this tale of a young girl enlisted to bring down a powerful but corrupt man by becoming his mistress. There’s a lot more going on in terms of plot, but rather than waste time explaining details, why don’t I just say it’s good, so go and see it.
Granted, the chunky running time and subtitles might put some off, and this isn’t the enjoyable time-waster that I Am Legend was. Lust, Caution will intrigue and repulse, lift and depress. For every lust portion, there’s certainly a caution. Long, sizzling stares between yearning characters; violent sexual assault. A softening heart and crumbling emotional barriers in the hardest of men; a distressing, drawn-out murder scene that had even the likes of me wincing. It sounds like hard work but surprisingly isn’t, with moments of comedy and a solid undercover plot behind it all that’s comfortingly familiar but adds extra elements of tension.
As for those scenes. Well, they certainly leave nothing to the imagination, acting in parts as a practical guide to the karma sutra. They are, however, used for a purpose, charting the relationship progression in ways no amount of frolicking in a field of flowers could manage. Plus you can play the “are they / aren’t they?” game - quite frankly some shots make it very difficult to tell what’s real. And if it’s not real, then you certainly have to marvel at the precise, err, I suppose you could use the term “tucking” that must have been involved.
Tucking aside, the film’s key players, Wei Tang and Tony Leung Chiu Wai, are superb, the look and feel is remarkably fresh considering it’s set in the stuffy past, and on a girly note there are some really pretty dresses. Brokeback was a powerful film, but too close to tragic love-story for me to fully enjoy (I’m not a fan of those). Lust, Caution has similar elements, but with a gripping plot, scintillating character interaction and an unusual blend of, well, lust and caution. It even stood up to the sleepy/slightly hung-over test, and therefore soars in with a CF3. Well done Ang!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
9th Jan 08 - I Am Legend
Scientists. Without them the world would be a much safer place. Granted, we wouldn’t have life saving advancements and all that. But do you know what else we wouldn’t have? Zombies. That’s right. Scientists causes zombies. It’s a well known fact, one that people seem to forget when a scientist starts talking about “mutating” things. What you should do is stop the scientist in their tracks. “Mutate?” you should interject, “Say, doesn’t that tend to produce hoards of zombies?” “Oh yeah,” the scientist will say. “I forgot.”
Just think of the millions of lives you’d save if you listened to me.
But alas, the folk in I Am Legend world didn’t pay any attention to me and now they’ve all buggered off, leaving a lone Will Smith with an empty New York and some scary mutated folk, who aren’t partial to sunlight but are pretty nippy and have sore tempers. Cue a tight zombie-esque film with spatterings of vampire inspired stay-in-the-sun-fun, sprinkled with your basic apocalypse survivor bleakness. And you don’t even need to know the back catalogue and full life history of the Fresh Prince in order to understand what’s going on. This is easily beating last week’s film already.
This isn’t a new concept, but its ace is the premise that Will Smith’s Robert Neville is the last man standing, left to face - and attempt to resolve - terrifying science mistakes. A tip of the hat to Big Willie, then, for managing to carry the film almost entirely on his own. When considering that his only real interaction is with an Alsatian or scary things that roar, it’s impressive that Will is entirely watchable throughout, never losing the audience’s attention or his own credibility, even when singing Bob Marley to a dog.
Legend also wins when it side-steps the clichés, shoving in some dark plot points and tackling our hero’s crumbling sanity (he likes mannequins… and Shrek). But in avoiding some clichés, it manages to blunder straight into others, and if you’ve seen one or more of the recent zombie efforts from the 28 Days/Weeks and Resident Evil franchise, to the likes of Romero and Shaun, then you’ll be able to guess many of the film’s next steps. Not all of them, mind. But most.
Still, considering this is from Francis Lawrence, the director of Constantine (the equivalent of excitable chatter from an imaginative but slightly stupid teenage boy) I Am Legend is a pretty good effort. Nicely paced, action gently handled instead of shaky quick-edit “excitement”, and some scenes that were scary enough to make the guy behind us actually shout out in fear. The enormous wimp. It’s also nice to see a film that can create tension, fear and shock without relying on buckets of gore, although it perhaps relied a little too heavily on average CGI (someone spent all their budget clearing New York, me thinks…)
A good solid Saturday night thriller, I am Legend racks up the recommended CF0, but to a zombie expert like myself it lacked enough originality to score any higher. Just watch out for those scientists, though. That’s all I can say.
Just think of the millions of lives you’d save if you listened to me.
But alas, the folk in I Am Legend world didn’t pay any attention to me and now they’ve all buggered off, leaving a lone Will Smith with an empty New York and some scary mutated folk, who aren’t partial to sunlight but are pretty nippy and have sore tempers. Cue a tight zombie-esque film with spatterings of vampire inspired stay-in-the-sun-fun, sprinkled with your basic apocalypse survivor bleakness. And you don’t even need to know the back catalogue and full life history of the Fresh Prince in order to understand what’s going on. This is easily beating last week’s film already.
This isn’t a new concept, but its ace is the premise that Will Smith’s Robert Neville is the last man standing, left to face - and attempt to resolve - terrifying science mistakes. A tip of the hat to Big Willie, then, for managing to carry the film almost entirely on his own. When considering that his only real interaction is with an Alsatian or scary things that roar, it’s impressive that Will is entirely watchable throughout, never losing the audience’s attention or his own credibility, even when singing Bob Marley to a dog.
Legend also wins when it side-steps the clichés, shoving in some dark plot points and tackling our hero’s crumbling sanity (he likes mannequins… and Shrek). But in avoiding some clichés, it manages to blunder straight into others, and if you’ve seen one or more of the recent zombie efforts from the 28 Days/Weeks and Resident Evil franchise, to the likes of Romero and Shaun, then you’ll be able to guess many of the film’s next steps. Not all of them, mind. But most.
Still, considering this is from Francis Lawrence, the director of Constantine (the equivalent of excitable chatter from an imaginative but slightly stupid teenage boy) I Am Legend is a pretty good effort. Nicely paced, action gently handled instead of shaky quick-edit “excitement”, and some scenes that were scary enough to make the guy behind us actually shout out in fear. The enormous wimp. It’s also nice to see a film that can create tension, fear and shock without relying on buckets of gore, although it perhaps relied a little too heavily on average CGI (someone spent all their budget clearing New York, me thinks…)
A good solid Saturday night thriller, I am Legend racks up the recommended CF0, but to a zombie expert like myself it lacked enough originality to score any higher. Just watch out for those scientists, though. That’s all I can say.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
2nd Jan 08 - I'm Not There
Walk the Line, Ray, Control, The Robbie Williams Story (it will come out in our life-time, trust me). We’ve been up to our ear-holes with film biogs of music folk, all following the similar pattern of rise to success – get woman – have success – turn into dickhead – lose woman – die. Maybe with extra bits in-between, but to be honest I’m bored of them. Utterly bored. So up pops another one, this time about Bob Dylan, but this time with a whole new way of doing it. Scrap a linear story and have six different actors play the same guy at different stages in his life. Genius! Even feature a woman and a little boy. More genius!
Yes, director Todd Haynes struck pretentious gold with this one. It has all the makings of a fantastic film. An original format, a central character with oodles of life material to play on, and a handful of striking performances, with a stunning Cate Blanchett winning the acting race by a mile, followed by a surly Heath Ledger and a brooding Christian Bale. The critics were mewing over this film like kittens at the teat of the culture cat.
But here’s my take on it. This film is the equivalent of someone taking all the ingredients necessary to make the best cake in the world, putting them in a big bowl, mixing them all together, but then by-passing the oven that will unite them into a cohesive sponge and instead using the mixture to write a big, obscure Bob Dylan quote all over the wall. Artists and critics will gather and coo at the nonsensical creation, pleased they have something new and Turner-prize-like to try and give their vapid, talentless lives some semblance of meaning and provide a way to continue to unjustly separate themselves from uncultured proles. Meanwhile, I stand at the back of the room, frowning, not really understanding the quote because I don’t know about Bob Dylan. “Hey!” I say, suddenly. “What’s this supposed to be? Why did you do all that? You’ve used all those lovely ingredients and you’ve come up with this? I can’t eat that! Where’s my cake?” at which point the smug critics stop and stare at me, but I’m now too outraged at being deprived a good cake and I say again, but louder, “WHERE’S MY CAKE?”
I don’t get an answer.
So, as I sat in the cinema surrounded by noble Bob Dylan fans nodding sagely at the alienating references, I pondered several things. Why did Dylan name his female dog “Henry”? On the subtitles (we were at a slightly off-putting audio-described screening) why did they need to write “clamouring” to describe a crowd scene? Why could I smell burning toast? Where’s my cake? And was this film ever going to end?
My abstract cake rantings sum up my feelings towards this film, as does the fact that after finally staggering out of the cinema, my friends and I had more discussion over a tabasco sauce advert than the film itself. Though in parts the performances were superb, the film was still at times frustrating, incomprehensible and actually a bit boring. The critics can’t all be wrong, can they? When their opinions differ from Cinemafool, then yes. They can.
I’m Not There saves points in principle, but loses them in practice. So 2008 starts with a downer of CF-1. Things can only get better, though. Right?
And who names a girl dog Henry? Really.
Yes, director Todd Haynes struck pretentious gold with this one. It has all the makings of a fantastic film. An original format, a central character with oodles of life material to play on, and a handful of striking performances, with a stunning Cate Blanchett winning the acting race by a mile, followed by a surly Heath Ledger and a brooding Christian Bale. The critics were mewing over this film like kittens at the teat of the culture cat.
But here’s my take on it. This film is the equivalent of someone taking all the ingredients necessary to make the best cake in the world, putting them in a big bowl, mixing them all together, but then by-passing the oven that will unite them into a cohesive sponge and instead using the mixture to write a big, obscure Bob Dylan quote all over the wall. Artists and critics will gather and coo at the nonsensical creation, pleased they have something new and Turner-prize-like to try and give their vapid, talentless lives some semblance of meaning and provide a way to continue to unjustly separate themselves from uncultured proles. Meanwhile, I stand at the back of the room, frowning, not really understanding the quote because I don’t know about Bob Dylan. “Hey!” I say, suddenly. “What’s this supposed to be? Why did you do all that? You’ve used all those lovely ingredients and you’ve come up with this? I can’t eat that! Where’s my cake?” at which point the smug critics stop and stare at me, but I’m now too outraged at being deprived a good cake and I say again, but louder, “WHERE’S MY CAKE?”
I don’t get an answer.
So, as I sat in the cinema surrounded by noble Bob Dylan fans nodding sagely at the alienating references, I pondered several things. Why did Dylan name his female dog “Henry”? On the subtitles (we were at a slightly off-putting audio-described screening) why did they need to write “clamouring” to describe a crowd scene? Why could I smell burning toast? Where’s my cake? And was this film ever going to end?
My abstract cake rantings sum up my feelings towards this film, as does the fact that after finally staggering out of the cinema, my friends and I had more discussion over a tabasco sauce advert than the film itself. Though in parts the performances were superb, the film was still at times frustrating, incomprehensible and actually a bit boring. The critics can’t all be wrong, can they? When their opinions differ from Cinemafool, then yes. They can.
I’m Not There saves points in principle, but loses them in practice. So 2008 starts with a downer of CF-1. Things can only get better, though. Right?
And who names a girl dog Henry? Really.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
The Cinemafool review of 2007
That’s right! It’s that time of year again! More eagerly anticipated than the Oscars, more interesting and entertaining than any other half-wit’s top 10 list, and much shorter than the gajillion talking-heads top-100 shows that are now the only thing on telly. It’s the Cinemafool review of the year, where we look back over the last twelve months and point out films everyone should really have watched if they wanted to be considered “dead clever”, “cinema-savvy” and “fantastic” like what I am.
Last year’s tally was trumped by the skin of our teeth with a total of 44 new films. Alas, re-releases seen at the cinema (Blade Runner) or 2007 films watched later on DVD (the excellent Them, and nonsensical Inland Empire) are not included, simply because that’s the law we all must abide by. Hey, I don’t make the rules. Oh wait, I might…
The Top 10 of 2007
Anyway, first up is the hotly contended for “Top 10”. Are you ready? In chronological order:
The Science of Sleep
Seen: 28th February
Rating: CF4
What: Michel Gondry’s vast creative talents are applied to a tale of a chappy who just can’t separate dreams from reality - not a good place to be when trying to impress the new girlie neighbour.
I said then: I think the best word to describe it is charming. Utterly charming.
I say now: I basically have a soft spot for Gondry’s imagination, and this film was fun, sweet and brimming with Gondry-esque brilliance.
I also said: A lovely treat this week. Not only do I get to watch a fabulous film; I get to sit a comfortable distance from the screen.
Hot Fuzz
Seen: 7th March 07
Rating: CF3
What: The Shaun boys are back, swapping zombies for a love of action films with a tale of a super city bobby tackling life in a sleepy English village.
I said then: Big, bold and British, Hot Fuzz climbs the CF scale with its humour, but falters when the action become a little too ‘actiony’.
I say now: Watched twice at the cinema (reason below), this is a belter of a flick, marred only because I love Shaun of the Dead so much, and it isn’t quite as good.
I also said: post-wine, post-opening ten minutes, and post-any seats being available more than ten centimetres away from the screen.
Sunshine
Seen: 11th April 07
Rating: CF3
What: The 28 Days… team of Garland (pen) and Boyle (directing) return with a bit more money, a ridiculous sounding plot and a massive burning ball of gas.
I said then: Intimate, disturbing and claustrophobic as hell. Proper old-school sci-fi in space.
I say now: Despite going a little silly towards the end, Sunshine was a great romp. One of those romps that involve unbearable tension and horrific death. You know the kind.
I also said: I’ve had direct experience with the power of the sun, so I could really relate to the characters in this film as they risked immediate and complete combustion.
Half Nelson
Seen: 21st April 07
Rating: CF3
What: Ryan Gosling’s Oscar nominated performance as a skinny white teacher trying to help his class of racially opposite children and… oh boring. Seen it before. But this time, skinny white teacher happens to be addicted to crack. Oh dear…
I said then: Half Nelson pushes through all of my usual grievances and emerges as an original, engaging piece of work. Not your multiplex-filler, but stick with this film and you will be highly rewarded.
I say now: A small film with a big heart, driven by excellent performances and a mellow tone. Plus Ryan Gosling’s pretty hot.
I also said: I had a phase where I really was unable to eat just a single Mingle, but did I make myself the central character of a film and brood around with my affliction? No.
This is England
Seen: 2nd May
Rating: CF4
What: Shane Meadow’s foray into 80s skinhead culture via a little boy called Shaun, and a big man called Combo with unfortunate ideals.
I said then: This is England definitely packs a punch - actually, more like a head-butt to the face…
I say now: A good year for the Brits, This is England is powerful without being overly grim, relevant without shoving issues in your face, and funny without having characters say “bugger” all the time.
I also said: Like The Lion King, but with skinheads.
Zodiac
Seen: 23rd May 07
Rating: CF3
What: David Fincher’s crime thriller based on the real-life Zodiac killer, with lovely Jake, lovely Robert and lovely Mark.
I said then: this is a stocky beast, but the time flies by in a mixture of suspense and intrigue. With a great cast, a fascinating story (all the more because it’s true) and some clever direction, Zodiac makes a killing
I say now: Fincher manages to make the right balance between his fancy directing and letting the formidable (and lovely) cast do their thing. Zodiac was one piece of absorbing film.
I also said: It’s like he’s peed all over the film - wherever you look you’ll get a whiff of Fincher.
Knocked Up
Seen: 15th August 07
Rating: CF2
What: The start of Rogen and Apatow’s climb to the top of the comedy pile, Knocked Up tackles that gut-wrenching terror of getting up the duff by a total loser.
I said then: Definitely has elements to satisfy many different levels of audience, even those as high and mighty as me. Clever, cynical… refreshing to see a comedy emerge without a completely rose-tinted view of the romantic world.
I say now: I have to stick a few films in this top ten that aren’t overly pretentious (just a couple, anyway) and Knocked Up was a comedy that really impressed, not least because I got to see it for free. Way hey!
I also said: You don’t get the impression the writers have struggled for a punch-line and thought ‘sod it, make one of them fart instead’
The Lookout
Seen: 7th Nov 07
Rating: CF2
What: Joseph Gordon Levitt propels himself back on to the top 10 list second year running in a head-trauma/bank robbery indie film.
I said then: It’s Fargo style, with slightly eccentric villains, a dysfunctional collection of heroes and lots of cold settings… Good, solid first for the director and another cracking performance from Levitt.
I say now: What can I say? I just can’t resist the Levitt’s performances. This also sparks an amazing run of films in November (you’ll see…)
I also said: a barefaced lie created to appease unhappy single women
Eastern Promises
Seen: 14th November 07
Rating: CF3
What: David Cronenburg does it again (A History of Violence making the 2005 CF Top-10) with Viggo back in tow, this time as part of a Russian gang in London, clashing paths with an ickle baby and an “English” nurse. Oh, and he likes saunas. Well, probably not anymore.
I said then: This is a powerful film, with ace performances, a memory-stamping fight scene, some unexpected twirls in the plot and, did I mention, a naked, sweaty Viggo?
I say now: Naked, sweaty Viggo.
I also said: The guy’s got a cleft in his chin - a proven sign of genius
The Darjeeling Limited
Seen: 28th Nov 07
Rating: CF3
What: Wes Anderon’s tale of three brothers on a train. They walk in slow motion to cool tunes and there’s lots of close ups of their weirdly shaped noses. That’s about it.
I said then: Oddball, quirky, and any other clichéd adjective you want to throw in there to describe a film that’s different to the norm.
I say now: Let down by the last twenty minutes, this film still barges its way on to the top 10 because of its central performances and how much they made me smile. Simple as that.
I also said: My natural facial expression is that of contempt.
2007: The Losers
Last year there was a crop of stinkers that angered and befuddled. Due to the avoidance of a particular pirate crew, this year there haven’t been quite so many upsets. But a few films didn’t half disappoint.
Shrek the Third
Seen: 4th July 07
Rating: CF0 (scraped)
“The whole film feels a bit like my attitude when trying to park in a small space at Tesco. It’s all pretty much in there, so sod it - that’ll do.”
Superbad
Seen: 19th Sep 07
Rating: CF-1
“I wouldn’t really recommend it to many people, unless I happen on a group of ‘youths’.”
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Seen: 24th July 07
Rating: CF-1
“Most of the time I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was watching a school production.”
Wedding Daze
Seen: 27th June 07
Rating: CF-2
“Crikey I have been seeing a lot of shite recently, haven’t I?”
The Turkey of the year
Nothing quite so offensive as Pirates this year, so the Turkey mantle has to fall on a bunch of thirteen smug celebrities instead.
Ocean’s Thirteen
Seen: 21st June 07
Rating: CF-3
“It’s not as bad as Twelve.”
“The equivalent of an episode of popular BBC show The Hustle.”
“Um… Rohypnol isn’t funny…”
“Frustrating, pointless, and, like the Bavarian mountain I recently visited, Wank.”
End on a High
As I don’t want to enter 2008 with the bad taste of 2007 Turkey in my mouth, let’s quickly reflect on something better. The year did offer up some belters, especially in the form of big, silly fun with lots of SHOUTING and thighs (300), robots and cheese (Transformers) and lorries beating jets (Die Hard 4.0).
It was also a year of surprises, where sequels with lazy names actually turned out to be great (28 Weeks Later) and Mel Gibson made a film that was a bloody good romp and only insulted a small group of people who looked too deeply (Apocalypto).
Top that off with some lengthy dramas that floated my boat (Assassination of Jesse James, Bobby) and a sweet little rom-com that didn’t piss me off (Two Days in Paris) and you’ve got a selection of films that aren’t half bad. There was a noticeable absence of any CF5 rated films, however, and this is a great shame. Can 2008 offer up something better? Let’s go and see…
Last year’s tally was trumped by the skin of our teeth with a total of 44 new films. Alas, re-releases seen at the cinema (Blade Runner) or 2007 films watched later on DVD (the excellent Them, and nonsensical Inland Empire) are not included, simply because that’s the law we all must abide by. Hey, I don’t make the rules. Oh wait, I might…
The Top 10 of 2007
Anyway, first up is the hotly contended for “Top 10”. Are you ready? In chronological order:
The Science of Sleep
Seen: 28th February
Rating: CF4
What: Michel Gondry’s vast creative talents are applied to a tale of a chappy who just can’t separate dreams from reality - not a good place to be when trying to impress the new girlie neighbour.
I said then: I think the best word to describe it is charming. Utterly charming.
I say now: I basically have a soft spot for Gondry’s imagination, and this film was fun, sweet and brimming with Gondry-esque brilliance.
I also said: A lovely treat this week. Not only do I get to watch a fabulous film; I get to sit a comfortable distance from the screen.
Hot Fuzz
Seen: 7th March 07
Rating: CF3
What: The Shaun boys are back, swapping zombies for a love of action films with a tale of a super city bobby tackling life in a sleepy English village.
I said then: Big, bold and British, Hot Fuzz climbs the CF scale with its humour, but falters when the action become a little too ‘actiony’.
I say now: Watched twice at the cinema (reason below), this is a belter of a flick, marred only because I love Shaun of the Dead so much, and it isn’t quite as good.
I also said: post-wine, post-opening ten minutes, and post-any seats being available more than ten centimetres away from the screen.
Sunshine
Seen: 11th April 07
Rating: CF3
What: The 28 Days… team of Garland (pen) and Boyle (directing) return with a bit more money, a ridiculous sounding plot and a massive burning ball of gas.
I said then: Intimate, disturbing and claustrophobic as hell. Proper old-school sci-fi in space.
I say now: Despite going a little silly towards the end, Sunshine was a great romp. One of those romps that involve unbearable tension and horrific death. You know the kind.
I also said: I’ve had direct experience with the power of the sun, so I could really relate to the characters in this film as they risked immediate and complete combustion.
Half Nelson
Seen: 21st April 07
Rating: CF3
What: Ryan Gosling’s Oscar nominated performance as a skinny white teacher trying to help his class of racially opposite children and… oh boring. Seen it before. But this time, skinny white teacher happens to be addicted to crack. Oh dear…
I said then: Half Nelson pushes through all of my usual grievances and emerges as an original, engaging piece of work. Not your multiplex-filler, but stick with this film and you will be highly rewarded.
I say now: A small film with a big heart, driven by excellent performances and a mellow tone. Plus Ryan Gosling’s pretty hot.
I also said: I had a phase where I really was unable to eat just a single Mingle, but did I make myself the central character of a film and brood around with my affliction? No.
This is England
Seen: 2nd May
Rating: CF4
What: Shane Meadow’s foray into 80s skinhead culture via a little boy called Shaun, and a big man called Combo with unfortunate ideals.
I said then: This is England definitely packs a punch - actually, more like a head-butt to the face…
I say now: A good year for the Brits, This is England is powerful without being overly grim, relevant without shoving issues in your face, and funny without having characters say “bugger” all the time.
I also said: Like The Lion King, but with skinheads.
Zodiac
Seen: 23rd May 07
Rating: CF3
What: David Fincher’s crime thriller based on the real-life Zodiac killer, with lovely Jake, lovely Robert and lovely Mark.
I said then: this is a stocky beast, but the time flies by in a mixture of suspense and intrigue. With a great cast, a fascinating story (all the more because it’s true) and some clever direction, Zodiac makes a killing
I say now: Fincher manages to make the right balance between his fancy directing and letting the formidable (and lovely) cast do their thing. Zodiac was one piece of absorbing film.
I also said: It’s like he’s peed all over the film - wherever you look you’ll get a whiff of Fincher.
Knocked Up
Seen: 15th August 07
Rating: CF2
What: The start of Rogen and Apatow’s climb to the top of the comedy pile, Knocked Up tackles that gut-wrenching terror of getting up the duff by a total loser.
I said then: Definitely has elements to satisfy many different levels of audience, even those as high and mighty as me. Clever, cynical… refreshing to see a comedy emerge without a completely rose-tinted view of the romantic world.
I say now: I have to stick a few films in this top ten that aren’t overly pretentious (just a couple, anyway) and Knocked Up was a comedy that really impressed, not least because I got to see it for free. Way hey!
I also said: You don’t get the impression the writers have struggled for a punch-line and thought ‘sod it, make one of them fart instead’
The Lookout
Seen: 7th Nov 07
Rating: CF2
What: Joseph Gordon Levitt propels himself back on to the top 10 list second year running in a head-trauma/bank robbery indie film.
I said then: It’s Fargo style, with slightly eccentric villains, a dysfunctional collection of heroes and lots of cold settings… Good, solid first for the director and another cracking performance from Levitt.
I say now: What can I say? I just can’t resist the Levitt’s performances. This also sparks an amazing run of films in November (you’ll see…)
I also said: a barefaced lie created to appease unhappy single women
Eastern Promises
Seen: 14th November 07
Rating: CF3
What: David Cronenburg does it again (A History of Violence making the 2005 CF Top-10) with Viggo back in tow, this time as part of a Russian gang in London, clashing paths with an ickle baby and an “English” nurse. Oh, and he likes saunas. Well, probably not anymore.
I said then: This is a powerful film, with ace performances, a memory-stamping fight scene, some unexpected twirls in the plot and, did I mention, a naked, sweaty Viggo?
I say now: Naked, sweaty Viggo.
I also said: The guy’s got a cleft in his chin - a proven sign of genius
The Darjeeling Limited
Seen: 28th Nov 07
Rating: CF3
What: Wes Anderon’s tale of three brothers on a train. They walk in slow motion to cool tunes and there’s lots of close ups of their weirdly shaped noses. That’s about it.
I said then: Oddball, quirky, and any other clichéd adjective you want to throw in there to describe a film that’s different to the norm.
I say now: Let down by the last twenty minutes, this film still barges its way on to the top 10 because of its central performances and how much they made me smile. Simple as that.
I also said: My natural facial expression is that of contempt.
2007: The Losers
Last year there was a crop of stinkers that angered and befuddled. Due to the avoidance of a particular pirate crew, this year there haven’t been quite so many upsets. But a few films didn’t half disappoint.
Shrek the Third
Seen: 4th July 07
Rating: CF0 (scraped)
“The whole film feels a bit like my attitude when trying to park in a small space at Tesco. It’s all pretty much in there, so sod it - that’ll do.”
Superbad
Seen: 19th Sep 07
Rating: CF-1
“I wouldn’t really recommend it to many people, unless I happen on a group of ‘youths’.”
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Seen: 24th July 07
Rating: CF-1
“Most of the time I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was watching a school production.”
Wedding Daze
Seen: 27th June 07
Rating: CF-2
“Crikey I have been seeing a lot of shite recently, haven’t I?”
The Turkey of the year
Nothing quite so offensive as Pirates this year, so the Turkey mantle has to fall on a bunch of thirteen smug celebrities instead.
Ocean’s Thirteen
Seen: 21st June 07
Rating: CF-3
“It’s not as bad as Twelve.”
“The equivalent of an episode of popular BBC show The Hustle.”
“Um… Rohypnol isn’t funny…”
“Frustrating, pointless, and, like the Bavarian mountain I recently visited, Wank.”
End on a High
As I don’t want to enter 2008 with the bad taste of 2007 Turkey in my mouth, let’s quickly reflect on something better. The year did offer up some belters, especially in the form of big, silly fun with lots of SHOUTING and thighs (300), robots and cheese (Transformers) and lorries beating jets (Die Hard 4.0).
It was also a year of surprises, where sequels with lazy names actually turned out to be great (28 Weeks Later) and Mel Gibson made a film that was a bloody good romp and only insulted a small group of people who looked too deeply (Apocalypto).
Top that off with some lengthy dramas that floated my boat (Assassination of Jesse James, Bobby) and a sweet little rom-com that didn’t piss me off (Two Days in Paris) and you’ve got a selection of films that aren’t half bad. There was a noticeable absence of any CF5 rated films, however, and this is a great shame. Can 2008 offer up something better? Let’s go and see…
Saturday, December 29, 2007
28th Dec 07 - Enchanted
It’s Christmas, the season of eating more food than necessary, doing sod all, and watching guilty pleasures at the cinema. And so, with nary a glimmer of self consciousness, I strode into a toddler-filled cinema with my adult friends to watch a Disney film. It’s what all the cool kids do. I’m almost positive.
Enchanted is just what a post-Christmas afternoon needs. Easy on the eye, simple to understand, quietly charming and occasionally amusing. An experience akin to playing Junior Pictionary with Orlando Bloom. Listen with a fraction of a brain cell as he explains the rules in a big, clear voice. Gaze at his curly hair flopping over his simple face. Chuckle as he accidentally eats one of the crayons. It’s what Christmas is all about.
Anyway, Enchanted sees the story of Giselle, a typical Disney princess who lives in a wood, is friends with animals, likes to sing and falls in love with a big bland prince. But the prince’s evil stepmother chucks Giselle into a magic well (bear with me..) and sees her emerge into “a world without a happily ever after”. That’d be our world, then. Poor Giselle is transformed into a real person and plonked into New York (oh look, New York as the setting for a film! Wow, what a pleasant change) where people don’t really like each other, don’t break into song and certainly don’t believe in happy endings or true love. A bit bleak for the tots, but it’s good to expose them to the reality of life. That’s Robert’s philosophy too, as a divorce lawyer who’s also a single parent. He ends up taking Giselle in until her “prince” will come to save her, and your typical fish-out-of-water hilarity ensues.
Rather than poke blatant fun at Disney clichés ala Shrek, this film embraces them and gives them a little twist. So Giselle’s wildlife friends are distinctly more urban in her new world, and when a musical number breaks out, Robert questions how it’s possible that everyone can know the words to the song. But there are no big winks to the adults - this is a predominantly child-friendly film, and much more rooted in the genre than the more grown-up flavours of Ratatouille, or the dummed-down science of last week’s aggravating Golden Compass. The animated segments are cheapo bargain-bin quality and lack real humour so prove a little tough to sit through, but it’s the performance of Amy Adams’ Giselle that’ll win you over in the real world. Wide-eyed, wide-smiled, with a child-like innocence and yet conflicting emotional core, it’s easy to see how the lovely Patrick Dempsey’s Robert could fall for her. James Marsden also strikes gold, swapping his yawn-fest performance as Cyclops for the hammiest prince in the land.
There’s some refreshing thoughts dealt with in what is essentially a child’s rom-com. Robert says you can’t fall in love straight away, but he falls for Giselle - true love does exist afterall! Hurray! But, Giselle had originally fallen for her prince. Can she just write that off and say this new love is now the real-deal? What happens with the next dashing man she meets? I think Robert needs to seriously sit down and consider the ramifications of his relationship, not to mention the hurt it will have caused his weird-jawed girlfriend of five years. Did those five years mean nothing to him? Can he just flush them all away for a mentally-challenged homeless person who wandered into his house?
Ok, maybe I’m looking too deeply into this, and I may have just trampled over the entire sentiment of the film. But hey - it still made me smile, I had one of the songs stuck in my head for a day and any film showing Patrick Dempsey in a half-open bath robe is a winner in my book. Sweet, silly and uplifting (if you don’t dissect it to pieces) there’s no doubt this is a pure kiddy film through and through. But if you’re after an Orlando-Pictionary moment, and don’t have access to either, then this is a great alternative for a lazy afternoon. Enchanted notches up a CF0, but imagine the rating all pink and fluffy and tasting like sugar. Seriously.
Enchanted is just what a post-Christmas afternoon needs. Easy on the eye, simple to understand, quietly charming and occasionally amusing. An experience akin to playing Junior Pictionary with Orlando Bloom. Listen with a fraction of a brain cell as he explains the rules in a big, clear voice. Gaze at his curly hair flopping over his simple face. Chuckle as he accidentally eats one of the crayons. It’s what Christmas is all about.
Anyway, Enchanted sees the story of Giselle, a typical Disney princess who lives in a wood, is friends with animals, likes to sing and falls in love with a big bland prince. But the prince’s evil stepmother chucks Giselle into a magic well (bear with me..) and sees her emerge into “a world without a happily ever after”. That’d be our world, then. Poor Giselle is transformed into a real person and plonked into New York (oh look, New York as the setting for a film! Wow, what a pleasant change) where people don’t really like each other, don’t break into song and certainly don’t believe in happy endings or true love. A bit bleak for the tots, but it’s good to expose them to the reality of life. That’s Robert’s philosophy too, as a divorce lawyer who’s also a single parent. He ends up taking Giselle in until her “prince” will come to save her, and your typical fish-out-of-water hilarity ensues.
Rather than poke blatant fun at Disney clichés ala Shrek, this film embraces them and gives them a little twist. So Giselle’s wildlife friends are distinctly more urban in her new world, and when a musical number breaks out, Robert questions how it’s possible that everyone can know the words to the song. But there are no big winks to the adults - this is a predominantly child-friendly film, and much more rooted in the genre than the more grown-up flavours of Ratatouille, or the dummed-down science of last week’s aggravating Golden Compass. The animated segments are cheapo bargain-bin quality and lack real humour so prove a little tough to sit through, but it’s the performance of Amy Adams’ Giselle that’ll win you over in the real world. Wide-eyed, wide-smiled, with a child-like innocence and yet conflicting emotional core, it’s easy to see how the lovely Patrick Dempsey’s Robert could fall for her. James Marsden also strikes gold, swapping his yawn-fest performance as Cyclops for the hammiest prince in the land.
There’s some refreshing thoughts dealt with in what is essentially a child’s rom-com. Robert says you can’t fall in love straight away, but he falls for Giselle - true love does exist afterall! Hurray! But, Giselle had originally fallen for her prince. Can she just write that off and say this new love is now the real-deal? What happens with the next dashing man she meets? I think Robert needs to seriously sit down and consider the ramifications of his relationship, not to mention the hurt it will have caused his weird-jawed girlfriend of five years. Did those five years mean nothing to him? Can he just flush them all away for a mentally-challenged homeless person who wandered into his house?
Ok, maybe I’m looking too deeply into this, and I may have just trampled over the entire sentiment of the film. But hey - it still made me smile, I had one of the songs stuck in my head for a day and any film showing Patrick Dempsey in a half-open bath robe is a winner in my book. Sweet, silly and uplifting (if you don’t dissect it to pieces) there’s no doubt this is a pure kiddy film through and through. But if you’re after an Orlando-Pictionary moment, and don’t have access to either, then this is a great alternative for a lazy afternoon. Enchanted notches up a CF0, but imagine the rating all pink and fluffy and tasting like sugar. Seriously.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
19th December 2007 - The Golden Compass
Back in July I watched the stagnant interlude that was Harry Potter number who-cares, and said as far as children’s book adaptations go, I was much more interested in “a little girl called Lyra and her big fuck-off armoured bear”. Well here comes said girl and bear, in the adaptation of the first book in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, a trio of deliciously dark novels with an abundance of imagination and a fantastic way of sticking a middle finger up to all ruling religions.
Naturally I was quite excited to see Pullman’s work on the big screen, but as the release date approached and stories emerged of a “toned down” content and “made for kids” vibe I started to get wary. Though dubbed a child’s book, The Amber Spyglass (changed to “The Golden Compass” for film as thickos wouldn’t know what a spyglass was) deals with complex ideas, violence and some nasty occurrences - a staple of any good story in my eyes. Unfortunately, some idiot made the decision to aim this film squarely at the tots, following in Narnia’s footsteps and ignoring the vastly superb example set by Jackson’s Lord of the Rings.
So we’re left with “theology on Sesame Street”, with every subtle symbol explained VERY SIMPLY, with ickle words and puppets (ok, not the last part). I half expected them to announce “this scene is brought to you by the letter ‘D’, the number six, and a thinly veiled attack on the Catholic church." Granted, the film doesn’t have the luxury of a few hundred pages to gradually introduce themes and encourage interpretation, but it doesn’t half feel lazy to explain every little thing via voiceover, diagram or handy character monologue. The kids wouldn’t get what it was about if it didn’t explain everything. But, let’s be honest. Who cares? I’m an adult, make this film for me, and if the kids don’t get it - fuck ‘em. They won’t remember tomorrow anyway, with their little under-developed brains.
I’m veering toward a Simpsons-style review again, so let’s get back to the film. Dumbed-down aside, the majority of this film is pretty good. The effects are superb, especially on the demons (they are the SOULS of PEOPLE as this is an ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE) and big ol’ Iroek, the armoured bear, is pretty ace. Newcomer Dakota Blue Richards does a stirling job as Lyra, capturing her defiance and confidence without being a brat. Nicole Kidman is fantastic as creepy lady Mrs Coulter, playing the role almost pantomime style, but stealing the scenes she’s in, even when her creepy little monkey is on her shoulder. And Daniel Craig is as brief as his character in the book, but a welcome addition to any screen as far as I’m concerned.
But the film’s biggest flaw is in trying to achieve a coherent story from a complicated book in less than two hours. Jackson made films that last for bloody days, but he gets the story in, paces it, and we can all handle it fine. Director and screenwriter Chris Weitz slices out any real character interaction, leaving a trail of events that probably don’t make any sense to a non-reader. Up to the end I was enjoying the film in an average sort of way, but then they did something utterly ridiculous. Those who’ve already read the book will know the ending is dark, pretty shocking, and sets things up for the second book nicely. That ending doesn’t happen in this film. Skip a few pages back and stop right there. Just before the real darkness begins. Just as things are all happy-happy. Just as not very much has been concluded yet. It’s a pathetic ending to the film, a wimpish “ooo don’t upset the kiddies” cop-op, and I was nearly as outraged as I was at the end of Pirates Two - and that’s saying something.
Golden Compass would’ve got a CF1 for doing a reasonably good job of bringing a brilliant book on screen. But by pandering to children and ignoring the book’s stronger points, it drops down a point, just clinging to a CF0. Read the book. Watch the film. Be disappointed. I hope you’re happy, children. I hope you’re bloody happy.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
8th Dec 07 - The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Critics have swooned over our Jesse and his chums, so to up the ante I went to see this during the afternoon while tired and recovering from a “couple” of drinks the night before. The last time I watched a film in this state was Lost in Translation, which succeeding in matching my soft-focussed, languid view of the world and had a similar effect as staring at a lava lamp for a few hours (having re-watched it when fresh and awake it soon transpired that the lava lamp would have more depth and less pretension.)
Anyway, this is the story of Jesse James, famous wild west train robber who was assassinated (oops - there’s a spoiler) by Robert Ford. The plot follows Jesse in his last year, and the ins and outs of his unstable relations with a bunch of his robbing friends, including Bob Ford. Although it may be dubbed a ‘western’, this is more a simmering character study, both on Jesse himself - a crumbling man made infamous by his exploits - and Robert Ford - the “coward” who helps Jesse kick the bucket.
Brad Pitt sails through as Jesse. It’s not particularly difficult for him to play a charismatic lead with a twitchy temper, and though he does the job well, he fades into the background when Casey Affleck appears as Ford. Creepy, vulnerable, desperate and greedy, Affleck gives several shades to Ford, promoting sympathy and revulsion all at the same time. If I was big bro Ben I’d probably be jealous, although Casey has slightly weird teeth. There’s something for you to cling on to, Ben.
The film is directed by Andrew Dominik, whose previous film is the superb Chopper, which regular readers with massive brains may remember managed to encroach on to the Little Fish review last year (because Chopper wowed and Little Fish sunk). Dominik chooses a bit of weird way to go about things, though, starting the film with gorgeous cinematography, moody lighting, framing each shot carefully, having Jesse stand with coat billowing in reflected steam during a train robbery scene full of style and danger. Great. But as the film moves on such devices are completely forgotten about, like all the great ideas ran out, or Dominik got too involved with characters and less involved with how he was showing the story.
A healthy mix of the two styles may have made the film feel more balanced, instead of a slightly disjointed feel that confused the direction of the plot. What is this film about? Jesse James? Robert Ford? The complex interaction between the whole gang and resulting mistrust and backstabbing? The odd effect of fame? Perhaps a second watch with a clear head might make things a bit more focussed, but for now it doesn’t feel completely cohesive.
However, the presence of Affleck and to a lesser extent Pitt, the periods of more inventive direction, and the strength of the story itself all mean this is still a rewarding film with plenty to ponder, especially the bizarre way a murdering thief is heralded as an American “hero”. Perhaps not as super as expected, but still worthy of more than a banal recommendation, Jesse James gets a CF2. Not long left in the year, and not one single CF5-rated film. Poor show, 2007. Poor show.
Anyway, this is the story of Jesse James, famous wild west train robber who was assassinated (oops - there’s a spoiler) by Robert Ford. The plot follows Jesse in his last year, and the ins and outs of his unstable relations with a bunch of his robbing friends, including Bob Ford. Although it may be dubbed a ‘western’, this is more a simmering character study, both on Jesse himself - a crumbling man made infamous by his exploits - and Robert Ford - the “coward” who helps Jesse kick the bucket.
Brad Pitt sails through as Jesse. It’s not particularly difficult for him to play a charismatic lead with a twitchy temper, and though he does the job well, he fades into the background when Casey Affleck appears as Ford. Creepy, vulnerable, desperate and greedy, Affleck gives several shades to Ford, promoting sympathy and revulsion all at the same time. If I was big bro Ben I’d probably be jealous, although Casey has slightly weird teeth. There’s something for you to cling on to, Ben.
The film is directed by Andrew Dominik, whose previous film is the superb Chopper, which regular readers with massive brains may remember managed to encroach on to the Little Fish review last year (because Chopper wowed and Little Fish sunk). Dominik chooses a bit of weird way to go about things, though, starting the film with gorgeous cinematography, moody lighting, framing each shot carefully, having Jesse stand with coat billowing in reflected steam during a train robbery scene full of style and danger. Great. But as the film moves on such devices are completely forgotten about, like all the great ideas ran out, or Dominik got too involved with characters and less involved with how he was showing the story.
A healthy mix of the two styles may have made the film feel more balanced, instead of a slightly disjointed feel that confused the direction of the plot. What is this film about? Jesse James? Robert Ford? The complex interaction between the whole gang and resulting mistrust and backstabbing? The odd effect of fame? Perhaps a second watch with a clear head might make things a bit more focussed, but for now it doesn’t feel completely cohesive.
However, the presence of Affleck and to a lesser extent Pitt, the periods of more inventive direction, and the strength of the story itself all mean this is still a rewarding film with plenty to ponder, especially the bizarre way a murdering thief is heralded as an American “hero”. Perhaps not as super as expected, but still worthy of more than a banal recommendation, Jesse James gets a CF2. Not long left in the year, and not one single CF5-rated film. Poor show, 2007. Poor show.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
28th Nov 07 - The Darjeeling Limited
It seems that as Christmas steadily approaches, it brings with it not just an increase in tat on the shelves, a decrease in bank balances, runny noses, stresses and other such fun, but also a steady trickle of good films. Imagine! Good films! The autumn season is always a bit dry, with the dregs of summer blockbusters left and the Oscar contenders holding back to emerge at a time that’ll better their chances. But as winter kicks in a few goodies start coming back out of the woodwork, clawing their way at the Cinemafool Top 10 (which is shaping up nicely, by the way, but some battles still to be had in the last month of the year). Last year Pan’s Labyrinth and Stranger Than Fiction impressed as 2006 closed down, and this time around we’ve already had Eastern Promises wedging a lovely Viggo into our midst. And now The Darjeeling Limited.
Yup, Darjeeling is one of those films that had me smiling throughout the bulk of it, which is pretty impressive as my natural facial expression is that of contempt, or occasional horror (see Pirates…) It’s a Wes Anderson film, whose previous flicks include Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, and 2005’s The Life Aquatic. Wes’s films tend to meander plot-wise, feature Bill Murray, have ace soundtracks, and often leave you wondering if you enjoyed it or not.
Wes likes to feature actors with slightly weird faces, and have lots of close up shots of them, then shots of them walking in slow-motion to a cool song, preferably with all characters in formation, one behind the other. It looks good, you see. He also likes to have plots that you can’t really summarise. Take Darjeeling. Essentially it’s about three brothers on a train in India. If I tried to explain it anymore I’d spoil its occasional twists and turns, and would run out of space for this review (which, granted, has already been taken up by lots of unrelated waffle anyway, although good waffle none-the-less. There was some more.) Wes also has a weird knack of making a 90 minute film feel like it’s been on for a ga-jillion hours.
All of the above makes it sound like I dislike his films. I don’t, but I am wary when approaching them. Darjeeling features all of Wes’s usual traits, but the reason for my almost constant smile is down to three little words. Owen, Jason and Adrien. That’d be Wilson, Schwartzman and Brody. As the three leads these guys are just pure brilliance, and putting them together as squabbling, peculiar brothers was a genius move. Owen’s character is overly organised, bossy and a bit anal, although impressed me with his travel planning. As any of my travelling companions know, I like to plan things out, preferably with spreadsheets. Owen has laminated itineraries. Laminated! A great idea, and one which I might implement in my forth-coming January trip.
Jason Schwartzman plays a sombre writer with impulsive behaviour and lady problems, while Adrian Brody is the tall, slightly broody and emotional sibling. All three have amazing noses (see previous comment on Wes liking weird faces) and gel together so well on screen you can easily see them as brothers. The film wavers in tone between comedic and melancholic, with a few unexpected flashes of excitement, and some giggly moments of fun that makes the whole thing a pleasure to observe.
My only gripe, aside from a reasonably pointless short film used as an opener (watch out for Natalie Portman’s ribs - seriously disturbing) is the ga-jillion hour factor, with the film seemingly coming to an end but then motoring on for another few hours (or maybe twenty minutes or so). It was just enough to make my smile fade, and enough to drop Darjeeling down a point - but to say that it still stands at CF3 should suggest how much I was enjoying this film. The Darjeeling Limited is oddball, quirky, and any other clichéd adjective you want to throw in there to describe a film that’s different to the norm. But it’s certainly worth watching. So watch it.
Yup, Darjeeling is one of those films that had me smiling throughout the bulk of it, which is pretty impressive as my natural facial expression is that of contempt, or occasional horror (see Pirates…) It’s a Wes Anderson film, whose previous flicks include Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, and 2005’s The Life Aquatic. Wes’s films tend to meander plot-wise, feature Bill Murray, have ace soundtracks, and often leave you wondering if you enjoyed it or not.
Wes likes to feature actors with slightly weird faces, and have lots of close up shots of them, then shots of them walking in slow-motion to a cool song, preferably with all characters in formation, one behind the other. It looks good, you see. He also likes to have plots that you can’t really summarise. Take Darjeeling. Essentially it’s about three brothers on a train in India. If I tried to explain it anymore I’d spoil its occasional twists and turns, and would run out of space for this review (which, granted, has already been taken up by lots of unrelated waffle anyway, although good waffle none-the-less. There was some more.) Wes also has a weird knack of making a 90 minute film feel like it’s been on for a ga-jillion hours.
All of the above makes it sound like I dislike his films. I don’t, but I am wary when approaching them. Darjeeling features all of Wes’s usual traits, but the reason for my almost constant smile is down to three little words. Owen, Jason and Adrien. That’d be Wilson, Schwartzman and Brody. As the three leads these guys are just pure brilliance, and putting them together as squabbling, peculiar brothers was a genius move. Owen’s character is overly organised, bossy and a bit anal, although impressed me with his travel planning. As any of my travelling companions know, I like to plan things out, preferably with spreadsheets. Owen has laminated itineraries. Laminated! A great idea, and one which I might implement in my forth-coming January trip.
Jason Schwartzman plays a sombre writer with impulsive behaviour and lady problems, while Adrian Brody is the tall, slightly broody and emotional sibling. All three have amazing noses (see previous comment on Wes liking weird faces) and gel together so well on screen you can easily see them as brothers. The film wavers in tone between comedic and melancholic, with a few unexpected flashes of excitement, and some giggly moments of fun that makes the whole thing a pleasure to observe.
My only gripe, aside from a reasonably pointless short film used as an opener (watch out for Natalie Portman’s ribs - seriously disturbing) is the ga-jillion hour factor, with the film seemingly coming to an end but then motoring on for another few hours (or maybe twenty minutes or so). It was just enough to make my smile fade, and enough to drop Darjeeling down a point - but to say that it still stands at CF3 should suggest how much I was enjoying this film. The Darjeeling Limited is oddball, quirky, and any other clichéd adjective you want to throw in there to describe a film that’s different to the norm. But it’s certainly worth watching. So watch it.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
14th Nov 07 - Eastern Promises
As Brick was to last week’s The Lookout, a History of Violence is to this week’s Eastern Promises, namely a film wowing mostly down to the utter coolness and confidence of its lead actor. Last week was Levitt, this week it’s Mortenson, a man so effortlessly, silently cool it’s simply flabbergasting. Plus his first name’s Viggo, which isn’t really a name, is it? He’s just so damn cool.
But rather than gush about the lead actor yet again, I’ll go for a different tack. Eastern Promises is David Cronenburg’s follow-up to a 2005 CF Top-10 rated A History of Violence, still keeping the violence jarringly mixed with simple family life, but this time plonking it in London alongside some Russian gangsters. It’s a disturbing world, made more disturbing when you read how much research went into the film and what had to be left out as it may have been “too much”. What’s left in is murder, theft and horrific treatment of women. Oh and that violence thing that Cronenberg does so well.
The story follows Viggo as a driver/minder to Vincent Cassel’s unruly son-of-big-boss, played by crag-faced Armin Mueller-Stahl. Their paths cross with midwife Naomi Watts but to go further into the plot would probably spoil it (as an idiot managed to do for my companion in a thoughtless toilet conversation. Seriously - the worst place to talk about the ending of a film is in the toilet of the cinema. I bet they answered their mobile halfway through the film, too.)
Anyway, at a sprightly 100 minutes, Promises is surprisingly laid-back in pace, taking the time to build characters and finger twisting tension. In typical Cronenburg style, the violence is sporadic but gruesomely effective. Shove your gorno Saw-trite up your arse, this is raw, powerful and, if the less desensitised could watch between their fingers, amazingly shot effects-wise. The stand-out scene in the sauna will stay with you, and kicks the likes of Bourne and Bond right back into fictional la-la-land. Perhaps having a sweaty, naked Viggo makes the scene easier to watch..
Here I go back to my gushing, for Viggo certainly astonishes, with his apparent grasp of Russian (well it sounds pretty good, anyway) and physical presence stealing every scene. Plus the guy’s got a cleft in his chin - a proven sign of genius. The rest of the cast are still strong, and for a film set in London there’s not a single shot of the Eye, possibly a first for the year and a great way not to annoy me.
But Promises isn’t getting the sought-after CF5 rating, so there must be some quibble somewhere. Perhaps the plot could have stretched itself into something even deeper. Perhaps more delving could have gone into Viggo’s fascinating character. Perhaps a less clichéd view of a “gangster family” could have been portrayed (instead of quiet elderly front-man, with lots of food and family parties and piped ’culture-specific’ music). Perhaps Naomi Watts should have stopped wearing those ridiculous goggles on her bike.
Well. This is still a powerful film, with ace performances, a memory-stamping fight scene, some unexpected twirls in the plot and, did I mention, a naked, sweaty Viggo? I feel strongly enough for Eastern Promises to punch through the recent CF2 barrier, making a smashing CF3. Perhaps there’s time for the last stragglers of the year to follow it through? Let’s see…
But rather than gush about the lead actor yet again, I’ll go for a different tack. Eastern Promises is David Cronenburg’s follow-up to a 2005 CF Top-10 rated A History of Violence, still keeping the violence jarringly mixed with simple family life, but this time plonking it in London alongside some Russian gangsters. It’s a disturbing world, made more disturbing when you read how much research went into the film and what had to be left out as it may have been “too much”. What’s left in is murder, theft and horrific treatment of women. Oh and that violence thing that Cronenberg does so well.
The story follows Viggo as a driver/minder to Vincent Cassel’s unruly son-of-big-boss, played by crag-faced Armin Mueller-Stahl. Their paths cross with midwife Naomi Watts but to go further into the plot would probably spoil it (as an idiot managed to do for my companion in a thoughtless toilet conversation. Seriously - the worst place to talk about the ending of a film is in the toilet of the cinema. I bet they answered their mobile halfway through the film, too.)
Anyway, at a sprightly 100 minutes, Promises is surprisingly laid-back in pace, taking the time to build characters and finger twisting tension. In typical Cronenburg style, the violence is sporadic but gruesomely effective. Shove your gorno Saw-trite up your arse, this is raw, powerful and, if the less desensitised could watch between their fingers, amazingly shot effects-wise. The stand-out scene in the sauna will stay with you, and kicks the likes of Bourne and Bond right back into fictional la-la-land. Perhaps having a sweaty, naked Viggo makes the scene easier to watch..
Here I go back to my gushing, for Viggo certainly astonishes, with his apparent grasp of Russian (well it sounds pretty good, anyway) and physical presence stealing every scene. Plus the guy’s got a cleft in his chin - a proven sign of genius. The rest of the cast are still strong, and for a film set in London there’s not a single shot of the Eye, possibly a first for the year and a great way not to annoy me.
But Promises isn’t getting the sought-after CF5 rating, so there must be some quibble somewhere. Perhaps the plot could have stretched itself into something even deeper. Perhaps more delving could have gone into Viggo’s fascinating character. Perhaps a less clichéd view of a “gangster family” could have been portrayed (instead of quiet elderly front-man, with lots of food and family parties and piped ’culture-specific’ music). Perhaps Naomi Watts should have stopped wearing those ridiculous goggles on her bike.
Well. This is still a powerful film, with ace performances, a memory-stamping fight scene, some unexpected twirls in the plot and, did I mention, a naked, sweaty Viggo? I feel strongly enough for Eastern Promises to punch through the recent CF2 barrier, making a smashing CF3. Perhaps there’s time for the last stragglers of the year to follow it through? Let’s see…
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
7th Nov 07 - The Lookout
Last year Brick scrabbled its way on to the acclaimed (by me) Cinemafool top 10, mostly on the merits of its lead actor, Joseph Gordon Levitt (the kid out of Third Rock from the Sun). At the time I said he was one to watch, so here I am watching him again, in a bizarrely empty cinema (probably down to a football match, but that doesn’t explain where all the other people were who have any semblance of intelligence.) Anyway, Levitt takes the lead in The Lookout, written and directed by newbie Scott Frank, and as he nailed moody cool in Brick, here he bangs confused frustration right on the head. See, I made that comment because Levitt’s character Chris is involved in a frightful accident and has severe head trauma. See what I did there? Clever, I know.
So poor Chris battles with memory issues, sequencing problems and an ill-timed lack of restraint. He’s gone from being super star hockey player to bumbling around, cleaning floors in a bank and living with a blind dude (Jeff Daniels - recreating The Dude). Naturally he’s not too happy a chappy. So when smooth talker Gary appears with an offer of friendship, it’s no wonder Chris lets his guard down. Could be a nice buddy-movie, but Gary is sort of after robbing a bank, and spies Chris’s current employment mixed with head-issues a perfect opportunity. Naughty Gary.
Despite the underlying bank robbery / head trauma dramas, The Lookout is a remarkably composed piece of work, ignoring a wow-bang impulse (possibly budget related) and instead going Fargo style, with slightly eccentric villains, a dysfunctional collection of heroes and lots of cold settings. Focus is largely on how Chris copes with life, with a slip into straight robbery-gone-wrong territory just towards the end. It makes for a neat little indie film, and feels like a refreshing walk in the cold outdoors compared to recent “issues-heavy” stodge.
Levitt doesn’t disappoint, still with a very cool exterior but also an essential underbelly of anger, guilt and your basic frustration. I can’t put my finger on why I like Levitt so much - as an actor he just seems completely in control but without that knowing glint folk like Mr Clooney often display (the “check me out ladies, I’m acting” look). Anyway, I’ll stop harping on about Levitt. He’s flanked by a very smooth Matthew Goode and a comedy injection of Daniels as Chris’s roomie.
On the negative, the film stinks of having been written by a guy, the only female characters being insipid, idiotic and actual lap-dancers. They are so insignificant to the plot, despite offering whiffs of interesting character development, that they fade away before the finale, never to be remembered. I’m not saying that all films written by women portray men fairly either - mostly they portray them as dashing and charming, which is of course a barefaced lie created to appease unhappy single women, which is flawed as it’ll only make them worse by giving false hope.
Um, where was I? Oh yes - The Lookout. Good, solid first for the director and another cracking performance from Levitt. Good enough to climb to a CF2, but lacking a little bit of oomph to get past that now tricky CF2 barrier.
On a side note, I watched Them this weekend, a French horror that was originally released in January. If you want to genuinely poop your pants, I would highly recommend, especially if you watch it when you’re home alone. Mind, Joseph Gordon Levitt isn’t in it, but don’t let that put you off.
So poor Chris battles with memory issues, sequencing problems and an ill-timed lack of restraint. He’s gone from being super star hockey player to bumbling around, cleaning floors in a bank and living with a blind dude (Jeff Daniels - recreating The Dude). Naturally he’s not too happy a chappy. So when smooth talker Gary appears with an offer of friendship, it’s no wonder Chris lets his guard down. Could be a nice buddy-movie, but Gary is sort of after robbing a bank, and spies Chris’s current employment mixed with head-issues a perfect opportunity. Naughty Gary.
Despite the underlying bank robbery / head trauma dramas, The Lookout is a remarkably composed piece of work, ignoring a wow-bang impulse (possibly budget related) and instead going Fargo style, with slightly eccentric villains, a dysfunctional collection of heroes and lots of cold settings. Focus is largely on how Chris copes with life, with a slip into straight robbery-gone-wrong territory just towards the end. It makes for a neat little indie film, and feels like a refreshing walk in the cold outdoors compared to recent “issues-heavy” stodge.
Levitt doesn’t disappoint, still with a very cool exterior but also an essential underbelly of anger, guilt and your basic frustration. I can’t put my finger on why I like Levitt so much - as an actor he just seems completely in control but without that knowing glint folk like Mr Clooney often display (the “check me out ladies, I’m acting” look). Anyway, I’ll stop harping on about Levitt. He’s flanked by a very smooth Matthew Goode and a comedy injection of Daniels as Chris’s roomie.
On the negative, the film stinks of having been written by a guy, the only female characters being insipid, idiotic and actual lap-dancers. They are so insignificant to the plot, despite offering whiffs of interesting character development, that they fade away before the finale, never to be remembered. I’m not saying that all films written by women portray men fairly either - mostly they portray them as dashing and charming, which is of course a barefaced lie created to appease unhappy single women, which is flawed as it’ll only make them worse by giving false hope.
Um, where was I? Oh yes - The Lookout. Good, solid first for the director and another cracking performance from Levitt. Good enough to climb to a CF2, but lacking a little bit of oomph to get past that now tricky CF2 barrier.
On a side note, I watched Them this weekend, a French horror that was originally released in January. If you want to genuinely poop your pants, I would highly recommend, especially if you watch it when you’re home alone. Mind, Joseph Gordon Levitt isn’t in it, but don’t let that put you off.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
31st Oct 07 - Rendition
You may remember a few weeks ago I reviewed Clooney vehicle Michael Clayton, which involved a few groans at the preceding trailers that hinted at films full of that deep American guilt about terror wars et al. Well, Rendition was one of those films, the big guilt-factor being that fun new rule where suspected “terror” people can be magically whisked away to an off-shore “interrogation” area without a drop of paper signage or any of that other stuff that brings some semblance of order to the world. We all know Bad Things have been happening, even people like me who try not to read the papers anymore due to the warped nature of all media nowadays (except this, loyal readers. No warping of facts here. Just blunt, ill-educated yet pretentiously-presented opinions.)
Anyhoo, Rendition’s plot spine is the abduction - sorry, “interception” - of Omar Metwally, and the impact of this event on a whole fistful of people, from a rather gaunt looking Reece Witherspoon (the wife who wonders where the hell her hubbie’s gone) to lovely Jake Gyllenhaal experiencing his first time as an American “interrogator”, to interrogator Abasi and his battle to keep his daughter Fatima under control and avoid assassination, to Fatima’s boyfriend and his friends who have an unsettling knack of convincing people to blow themselves up. Peripheral to all this is Reece’s lawyer friend (Peter Sarsgaard) probing where his career suggests he shouldn’t, and head of the interceptors Meryl Streep, whose decision it is to ‘intercept’ Omar in the first place.
A heck of a lot going on, then, and an impressive handling of the multiple plot strands, each major character getting their turn, and each story just as riveting as the next. Will Reece get any answers? Is her husband guilty? Can Jake take the pressure of this kind of interrogation? Will Abasi find his daughter? And will the boyfriend be convinced to do something pretty stupid? You will want to watch to find out, and there are some craftily unexpected direction-changes to spice things up a bit. Couple that with an excellent cast, a good moral-testing concept (the torturers claiming to have saved hundreds by extracting information in such a way - but the success rate suggesting many innocents have also been questioned) and lovely Jake (superb as ever) and you’re on to a winner.
Or are you? For this multi-stranded flick has a bold angle, but a few niggling faults. Meryl Streep’s character is, like Tilda Swinton’s in Michael Clayton, a Token Bad Old Woman in Charge. A role we’ve seen her play many times over. Not a shimmer of humanity flickers behind her icy stare. She represents “the Man” - soulless, uncompromising. Even when she defends her actions she does it with a little pitchfork behind her ear (honest). It’s unashamedly lazy characterisation and is an annoying reminder that this could just be one of those Hollywood films pretending to be big and important when actually they’re bland early Saturday evening fillers.
The multi-plot tactic is also a little unstable. It’s a little like having a tray full of peas and spending an hour and a half carefully balancing all the peas on the tray, making sure each pea is nice and stable. Then in the last half hour suddenly ignoring a few of the peripheral peas and letting them fall off, then eventually just tossing the whole tray in the air and going to make yourself a cup of tea.
But despite the peas and token Evil Head Woman factor, this is still a tight, enjoyable film with some good issues and a great cast. Gripping, but leaving less of an impression than it probably should have, Rendition hops in with a CF1, missing out on higher marks because I can barely remember what happened (never a good sign) except for the bits with lovely Jake in. Oh he’s so lovely. Sorry - I’ll stop.
Anyhoo, Rendition’s plot spine is the abduction - sorry, “interception” - of Omar Metwally, and the impact of this event on a whole fistful of people, from a rather gaunt looking Reece Witherspoon (the wife who wonders where the hell her hubbie’s gone) to lovely Jake Gyllenhaal experiencing his first time as an American “interrogator”, to interrogator Abasi and his battle to keep his daughter Fatima under control and avoid assassination, to Fatima’s boyfriend and his friends who have an unsettling knack of convincing people to blow themselves up. Peripheral to all this is Reece’s lawyer friend (Peter Sarsgaard) probing where his career suggests he shouldn’t, and head of the interceptors Meryl Streep, whose decision it is to ‘intercept’ Omar in the first place.
A heck of a lot going on, then, and an impressive handling of the multiple plot strands, each major character getting their turn, and each story just as riveting as the next. Will Reece get any answers? Is her husband guilty? Can Jake take the pressure of this kind of interrogation? Will Abasi find his daughter? And will the boyfriend be convinced to do something pretty stupid? You will want to watch to find out, and there are some craftily unexpected direction-changes to spice things up a bit. Couple that with an excellent cast, a good moral-testing concept (the torturers claiming to have saved hundreds by extracting information in such a way - but the success rate suggesting many innocents have also been questioned) and lovely Jake (superb as ever) and you’re on to a winner.
Or are you? For this multi-stranded flick has a bold angle, but a few niggling faults. Meryl Streep’s character is, like Tilda Swinton’s in Michael Clayton, a Token Bad Old Woman in Charge. A role we’ve seen her play many times over. Not a shimmer of humanity flickers behind her icy stare. She represents “the Man” - soulless, uncompromising. Even when she defends her actions she does it with a little pitchfork behind her ear (honest). It’s unashamedly lazy characterisation and is an annoying reminder that this could just be one of those Hollywood films pretending to be big and important when actually they’re bland early Saturday evening fillers.
The multi-plot tactic is also a little unstable. It’s a little like having a tray full of peas and spending an hour and a half carefully balancing all the peas on the tray, making sure each pea is nice and stable. Then in the last half hour suddenly ignoring a few of the peripheral peas and letting them fall off, then eventually just tossing the whole tray in the air and going to make yourself a cup of tea.
But despite the peas and token Evil Head Woman factor, this is still a tight, enjoyable film with some good issues and a great cast. Gripping, but leaving less of an impression than it probably should have, Rendition hops in with a CF1, missing out on higher marks because I can barely remember what happened (never a good sign) except for the bits with lovely Jake in. Oh he’s so lovely. Sorry - I’ll stop.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
24th Oct 07 - The Counterfeiters
This week’s film is a heart-warming family tale about cheeky chappy Salomon, who gets his wrists slapped for counterfeiting documents and money, and because of those pesky Nazis he’s sent to a concentration camp where he’s picked on to do a “special” project - with hilarious results!
Oh ok, maybe not quite the synopsis to match the film, but had I described it straight I would have probably had a negative impact on the emotional state of my ever-growing number of readers (let’s aim for over 5 by 2009). Yet for a German film set during the end of the Second World War and largely featuring life in a concentration camp, which let’s face it is as gloomy as hell on a biscuit, Counterfeiters starts off like a homage to Casino Royale. Stylishly suited and ruggedly handsome, Salomon (Karl Markovics) plays poker while eyeing up high-class totty, who he then ravages in his beautiful hotel suite in Monaco. It’s only when we’re taken back to see Salomon’s past that the gloom starts to threaten.
But even so, Salomon’s time in camp doesn’t look all that bad. He’s set on a special project to counterfeit money for the Nazis, and his little project team are treated pretty well, all things considered. They have nice beds, occasional treats, food and showers – they’re even allowed music. It almost looks like fun if, you know, they weren’t threatened with death if they didn’t do as they were told. And, well, weren’t in a concentration camp.
The film focuses in on the battle of conscience within Salomon’s team – they’re essentially helping the Nazi party and gaining a cushy lifestyle in return, compared to their comrades in neighbouring cells who are unthinkably suffering. But if they don’t do as they’re told, they’ll be killed. Salomon reasons that to survive you “must adapt”, but the price he pays is etched across his face. This is all mirrored nicely with a Nazi guard who doesn’t really share their views, but what else can he do? So there’s lots of weighty moral issues to digest and some powerful scenes, particularly when Salomon faces the less fortunate inmates.
There are lots of familiar prison-type scenes that dampen The Counterfeiters’ originality, and the use of a flashback structure means you never really worry for Salomon’s safety. But still, this is a fresh angle to approach a well-paved subject area, and the acting matches the fascinating character studies. Not as heavy as the synopsis might suggest, but still weighty enough to leave you a little exhausted by the end, The Counterfeiters gains a CF1.
Oh ok, maybe not quite the synopsis to match the film, but had I described it straight I would have probably had a negative impact on the emotional state of my ever-growing number of readers (let’s aim for over 5 by 2009). Yet for a German film set during the end of the Second World War and largely featuring life in a concentration camp, which let’s face it is as gloomy as hell on a biscuit, Counterfeiters starts off like a homage to Casino Royale. Stylishly suited and ruggedly handsome, Salomon (Karl Markovics) plays poker while eyeing up high-class totty, who he then ravages in his beautiful hotel suite in Monaco. It’s only when we’re taken back to see Salomon’s past that the gloom starts to threaten.
But even so, Salomon’s time in camp doesn’t look all that bad. He’s set on a special project to counterfeit money for the Nazis, and his little project team are treated pretty well, all things considered. They have nice beds, occasional treats, food and showers – they’re even allowed music. It almost looks like fun if, you know, they weren’t threatened with death if they didn’t do as they were told. And, well, weren’t in a concentration camp.
The film focuses in on the battle of conscience within Salomon’s team – they’re essentially helping the Nazi party and gaining a cushy lifestyle in return, compared to their comrades in neighbouring cells who are unthinkably suffering. But if they don’t do as they’re told, they’ll be killed. Salomon reasons that to survive you “must adapt”, but the price he pays is etched across his face. This is all mirrored nicely with a Nazi guard who doesn’t really share their views, but what else can he do? So there’s lots of weighty moral issues to digest and some powerful scenes, particularly when Salomon faces the less fortunate inmates.
There are lots of familiar prison-type scenes that dampen The Counterfeiters’ originality, and the use of a flashback structure means you never really worry for Salomon’s safety. But still, this is a fresh angle to approach a well-paved subject area, and the acting matches the fascinating character studies. Not as heavy as the synopsis might suggest, but still weighty enough to leave you a little exhausted by the end, The Counterfeiters gains a CF1.
Monday, October 22, 2007
17th Oct 07 - Ratatouille
When Brad Bird last teamed up with Pixar the result was The Incredibles, a brilliant take on the super-hero genre that made kiddie films more grown-up and, like, “real” entertainment. Bird’s second collaboration with them-what-draw-with-computers is just as good, though the subject couldn’t be more different.
Ratatouille sees Remy, a rat with an impeccable sense of smell and taste, which leads him to pursue culinary greatness via Linguini, a hapless kitchen-hand who’s willing to learn from his whiskered friend. As far as concepts go, it’s pretty much kiddy-friendly. Nonsense, really. So the fact that Brad Bird manages to get us fully grown, uber-educated, very highly mentally developed adults to actually care about Remy succeeding, proves just how great a force the Bird/Pixar combo is.
The winning formula seems to lie in the tone. It’s remarkably grown-up, despite the subject matter. There’s no brash childish tosh, and no wink-wink in-jokes for the disgruntled parents. The story’s delivered straight up, with some fun chase sequences, slap-stick moments and dancing rats to keep the tots (and grown-ups) amused, and some fabulous caricatures (the food critic marvellously vilified) and smart undertones for the adult folk. Remy wants to be himself and aim higher, but his pa informs him that the ‘lower’ rats can never progress, kept in place by fear created by the ‘higher’ humans. My stupid analytical nature could have a field day, but I’ll shut it up for now.
Instead you can sit back and enjoy a solid piece of film-making, where story resides over the need to make stuff look good. Not that it doesn’t look good - great in fact, and at times flabbergasting when you see flawless bustling city streets and swirling sewer tunnels, and remember this is an animated world. They even managed to make street rats look endearing. Especially when they’re whipping up an omelette.
There are a few niggling holes, though. It’s certainly funny, but still not close to the sheer hilarity of the Toy Story duo (yet to be beaten, in my opinion). The running time is a shade over-long for the contents, yet several characters drop off the edge of the plot into nothingness. The very American portrayal of France (a choice of American accents or mega-French) can grate a little. And if I want to be completely pedantic, there is only one female character, portrayed as a bit of an angry cow until she’s softened up by a guy who would never in a million years be able to get her in real life.
But here’s me talking about ‘real life’ when this is a cartoon about rodents that can cook (as my International companion described it). And this brings me back to Bird’s success - I’m treating Ratatouille as a proper film, not just some kid’s film I guiltily saw (like I might with Enchanted…) Thoroughly entertaining, beautifully animated and the closest I’ll be to having interest in watching cookery on screen, Ratatouille easily sinks a CF2, just missing out on a 3 for the reasons outlined above. Watch out for the short animation beforehand too - a nugget of fun before the main event. I’m hungry now - where’s a rat when you need one?
Ratatouille sees Remy, a rat with an impeccable sense of smell and taste, which leads him to pursue culinary greatness via Linguini, a hapless kitchen-hand who’s willing to learn from his whiskered friend. As far as concepts go, it’s pretty much kiddy-friendly. Nonsense, really. So the fact that Brad Bird manages to get us fully grown, uber-educated, very highly mentally developed adults to actually care about Remy succeeding, proves just how great a force the Bird/Pixar combo is.
The winning formula seems to lie in the tone. It’s remarkably grown-up, despite the subject matter. There’s no brash childish tosh, and no wink-wink in-jokes for the disgruntled parents. The story’s delivered straight up, with some fun chase sequences, slap-stick moments and dancing rats to keep the tots (and grown-ups) amused, and some fabulous caricatures (the food critic marvellously vilified) and smart undertones for the adult folk. Remy wants to be himself and aim higher, but his pa informs him that the ‘lower’ rats can never progress, kept in place by fear created by the ‘higher’ humans. My stupid analytical nature could have a field day, but I’ll shut it up for now.
Instead you can sit back and enjoy a solid piece of film-making, where story resides over the need to make stuff look good. Not that it doesn’t look good - great in fact, and at times flabbergasting when you see flawless bustling city streets and swirling sewer tunnels, and remember this is an animated world. They even managed to make street rats look endearing. Especially when they’re whipping up an omelette.
There are a few niggling holes, though. It’s certainly funny, but still not close to the sheer hilarity of the Toy Story duo (yet to be beaten, in my opinion). The running time is a shade over-long for the contents, yet several characters drop off the edge of the plot into nothingness. The very American portrayal of France (a choice of American accents or mega-French) can grate a little. And if I want to be completely pedantic, there is only one female character, portrayed as a bit of an angry cow until she’s softened up by a guy who would never in a million years be able to get her in real life.
But here’s me talking about ‘real life’ when this is a cartoon about rodents that can cook (as my International companion described it). And this brings me back to Bird’s success - I’m treating Ratatouille as a proper film, not just some kid’s film I guiltily saw (like I might with Enchanted…) Thoroughly entertaining, beautifully animated and the closest I’ll be to having interest in watching cookery on screen, Ratatouille easily sinks a CF2, just missing out on a 3 for the reasons outlined above. Watch out for the short animation beforehand too - a nugget of fun before the main event. I’m hungry now - where’s a rat when you need one?
Monday, October 15, 2007
10th Oct 07 - Control
The critics were crawling over themselves to get their labels of “marvellous”, “outstanding”, “the coolest British film of the year” splashed across posters and advertisements of this film. It’s British, it’s set in grim-ish 70s, it’s based on a true and depressing story about an iconic figure, and it’s in black and white. Even if you don’t understand a single second of it, there’s something about Control that made lowly critics think “yes, this is a film I should like, ergo I’ll throw out a one-word appraisal to try and get on posters and be seen to support “cool” British films.” Naturally I don’t group myself in with other critics. I mean, I use the word “ergo” in my opening paragraph. I’m just in a different league.
Anyway, ignoring all the tosh praise, Control is one of those films that will rattle your emotions - and here you thought I was going to disagree with plebby critics. Well, I might shortly, but right now I must sprinkle praise where praise is due. For Control paints a bleak picture of a bright spark, troubled by fame, family and his own brain, and it certainly grasps at the emotion strings, especially since you know what’s coming. Joy Division were before my time (I’m THAT youthful), but after teachings from 2002’s 24 Hour Party People, and an inherit Mancunian pride despite not liking a vast amount of Mancunian product, I knew that the band a) were genre-carving, and b) had a singer who committed suicide. It doesn’t really bode well for a happy ending.
Control is based on the book by Deborah Curtis, Ian’s widow, and follows Ian’s story from his teenage meeting with her, through his rise to fame, and onwards to his unfortunate finish.
Leading the film is relative newcomer Sam Riley, giving a sultry, powerful performance, particularly when mimicking the staggering on-stage presence of Curtis. He’s supported by producer Samantha Morton as Curtis’ devoted wife, turning in a solid performance as expected from the Mighty Morton (that’s what they call her. Honest.) and a gaggle of fellows playing recognisable names from the era, including Tony Wilson. It’s almost a companion piece to Winterbottom’s 24-Hour, picking out one strand of the story and exploring it in detail - albeit leaving most of the comedy out, although a few laughs are to be had with the band’s manager.
Mostly, though, this is a film matching Curtis’ downcast gaze. He’s unhappy, his wife’s unhappy, we’re all unhappy, and no one gets any happier when Curtis confuses his life and mind even further by embarking on an affair. It seems the more successful his band becomes, the more unhappy he is, and the more tangled his romantic life becomes. Generally I can cope with unhappy, and have practically wished for it in the last few films, but when unhappy begins to drag, alarm-bells start to ring. At 123 minutes, Control isn’t the longest film in the world, but it’s certainly not the shortest, and after the 90 minute mark you start to become conscious of the time. Everyone’s pretty miserable by this point, and for the last half hour it’s just one long tudge towards the inevitable.
It’s a shame, because such an electrifying performance from Riley is thinned out by the running-time. The direction of the plot also seems to lack ‘control’, flittering between a tale of the band, exploring Curtis’ personal battle, and the frustration from his women. A little more focus, preferably on Curtis himself, would have gone a long way. But still, this is a strong film, with a belting sound-track and performances, and a fascinating character study. You will come out with a distinct melancholic after-taste and a sore behind (from sitting for so long of course) but it is worth a gander. Not so much “marvellous” as “pretty good”, Control just slides in with a CF2.
Anyway, ignoring all the tosh praise, Control is one of those films that will rattle your emotions - and here you thought I was going to disagree with plebby critics. Well, I might shortly, but right now I must sprinkle praise where praise is due. For Control paints a bleak picture of a bright spark, troubled by fame, family and his own brain, and it certainly grasps at the emotion strings, especially since you know what’s coming. Joy Division were before my time (I’m THAT youthful), but after teachings from 2002’s 24 Hour Party People, and an inherit Mancunian pride despite not liking a vast amount of Mancunian product, I knew that the band a) were genre-carving, and b) had a singer who committed suicide. It doesn’t really bode well for a happy ending.
Control is based on the book by Deborah Curtis, Ian’s widow, and follows Ian’s story from his teenage meeting with her, through his rise to fame, and onwards to his unfortunate finish.
Leading the film is relative newcomer Sam Riley, giving a sultry, powerful performance, particularly when mimicking the staggering on-stage presence of Curtis. He’s supported by producer Samantha Morton as Curtis’ devoted wife, turning in a solid performance as expected from the Mighty Morton (that’s what they call her. Honest.) and a gaggle of fellows playing recognisable names from the era, including Tony Wilson. It’s almost a companion piece to Winterbottom’s 24-Hour, picking out one strand of the story and exploring it in detail - albeit leaving most of the comedy out, although a few laughs are to be had with the band’s manager.
Mostly, though, this is a film matching Curtis’ downcast gaze. He’s unhappy, his wife’s unhappy, we’re all unhappy, and no one gets any happier when Curtis confuses his life and mind even further by embarking on an affair. It seems the more successful his band becomes, the more unhappy he is, and the more tangled his romantic life becomes. Generally I can cope with unhappy, and have practically wished for it in the last few films, but when unhappy begins to drag, alarm-bells start to ring. At 123 minutes, Control isn’t the longest film in the world, but it’s certainly not the shortest, and after the 90 minute mark you start to become conscious of the time. Everyone’s pretty miserable by this point, and for the last half hour it’s just one long tudge towards the inevitable.
It’s a shame, because such an electrifying performance from Riley is thinned out by the running-time. The direction of the plot also seems to lack ‘control’, flittering between a tale of the band, exploring Curtis’ personal battle, and the frustration from his women. A little more focus, preferably on Curtis himself, would have gone a long way. But still, this is a strong film, with a belting sound-track and performances, and a fascinating character study. You will come out with a distinct melancholic after-taste and a sore behind (from sitting for so long of course) but it is worth a gander. Not so much “marvellous” as “pretty good”, Control just slides in with a CF2.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
3rd October 07 - Michael Clayton
Little Georgie Peorgie (I bet he loves being called that) seems to have a passion for staring in lots of films with Very Important Messages about the world we live in today. Good Night and Good Luck, Syriana, The Good German, Ocean’s Twelve (message: some films suck big-time). It’s a growing trend in Hollywood, this politically aware guilt, one exemplified by the trailers preceding this week’s film - all set in Washington, with talk of ‘war’ and ‘terror’ and ‘prisoners’ and blah-de-blah-blah-blah. Yes, these things are all very important, and yes, films should be made about them. But couple this American political guilt with the disaster flicks intent on blowing up New York (oh the poignancy, but give it a rest - I am Legend, Project Cloverfield etc) and sometimes I just want to write them all a letter to explain that there are other cities, and other governments, with just as many crappy things happening to them, and within them, so for Christ’s sake move on to the Next Big Thing or at least shove some kick-ass robot toys in there so we’re not all bashing our brains out in guilty despair.
That was an unexpected tangent. What I started off trying to say was that Georgie Peorgie has done lots of serious-type films, which means he’s no longer seen as “the handsome one off ER”. Now his name can make pretentious types like me see a film without even bothering to check what it’s about. Because Georgie makes serious films about “issues”, and right now “issues” are so god-damn fashionable.
Sorry - that tangent coming back. Anyway, George plays Michael Clayton, a sort of lawyer type (in bloody New York…) who stumbles across a potentially deadly truth, unearthed by his un-hinged lawyer friend (an excellent Tom Wilkinson). Generally, films about lawyers ‘trial’ my patience because they always end up in a court room, with lots of SHOUTING and pointing, and noble jurors nodding as the hero saves the day, after spending three quarters of the film looking in files and SHOUTING at witnesses and stuff. Yawn. Thankfully, Michael Clayton keeps everything out of the court room and into semi-reality, with an icy look at the corporate world, and the relationship between law firm and client (ie; money).
What Michael Clayton does is dodge and weave around the usual law-based clichés, and instead delivers a remarkably fresh take on the genre. It’s almost a mystery / thriller, with some modern guilt and musings on life’s purpose thrown in. Georgie heads up the fresh feel by playing Clayton with a huge dollop of hood-eyed woe and misery. The trade-mark smile and twinkly eyes hardly make an appearance. He is instead angry, brow-beaten, and mad keen on horses (you’ll get it). He acts his little chops off at times, mostly through the eyes, and is as ever a strong, watchable lead. The rest of the cast is equally impressive, though, with Tom Wilkinson, as mentioned, a vivid spark in the corporate gloom, Tilda Swinton, whose nervous cracks glimmer beautifully through her icy exterior, and a host of rent-a-law-firm-business-types to fill in the scenery.
For all its freshness, however, it’s a great shame that the film falls back on old favourites towards the end, with the hero making a stand, George cracking into his very familiar way of speaking. Where he pauses. Just to make his sentences feel. Important. All the while tipping his head to one side with that sly twinkle in his eyes. It doesn’t happen much, but it falls just as the film falls - lazily at the climax. It’s also a shame that Tilda Swinton’s character is bumped from being an interesting human (sweat patches of fear, practiced speeches) to token Evil Corporation Head. There’s also the questionable solutions her company finds to certain “problems” that tars over the otherwise realistic tones.
However, this doesn’t mean Michael Clayton wasn’t engaging, exciting, and thought-provoking without shoving “issues” in your face every five seconds. Georgie plays it well, and though it’s not as clever and important as its pretentious “look at me acting” end credit sequence, Clayton still racks up a CF2 for entertaining me in a different way. And all that without any robots too. Impressive.
That was an unexpected tangent. What I started off trying to say was that Georgie Peorgie has done lots of serious-type films, which means he’s no longer seen as “the handsome one off ER”. Now his name can make pretentious types like me see a film without even bothering to check what it’s about. Because Georgie makes serious films about “issues”, and right now “issues” are so god-damn fashionable.
Sorry - that tangent coming back. Anyway, George plays Michael Clayton, a sort of lawyer type (in bloody New York…) who stumbles across a potentially deadly truth, unearthed by his un-hinged lawyer friend (an excellent Tom Wilkinson). Generally, films about lawyers ‘trial’ my patience because they always end up in a court room, with lots of SHOUTING and pointing, and noble jurors nodding as the hero saves the day, after spending three quarters of the film looking in files and SHOUTING at witnesses and stuff. Yawn. Thankfully, Michael Clayton keeps everything out of the court room and into semi-reality, with an icy look at the corporate world, and the relationship between law firm and client (ie; money).
What Michael Clayton does is dodge and weave around the usual law-based clichés, and instead delivers a remarkably fresh take on the genre. It’s almost a mystery / thriller, with some modern guilt and musings on life’s purpose thrown in. Georgie heads up the fresh feel by playing Clayton with a huge dollop of hood-eyed woe and misery. The trade-mark smile and twinkly eyes hardly make an appearance. He is instead angry, brow-beaten, and mad keen on horses (you’ll get it). He acts his little chops off at times, mostly through the eyes, and is as ever a strong, watchable lead. The rest of the cast is equally impressive, though, with Tom Wilkinson, as mentioned, a vivid spark in the corporate gloom, Tilda Swinton, whose nervous cracks glimmer beautifully through her icy exterior, and a host of rent-a-law-firm-business-types to fill in the scenery.
For all its freshness, however, it’s a great shame that the film falls back on old favourites towards the end, with the hero making a stand, George cracking into his very familiar way of speaking. Where he pauses. Just to make his sentences feel. Important. All the while tipping his head to one side with that sly twinkle in his eyes. It doesn’t happen much, but it falls just as the film falls - lazily at the climax. It’s also a shame that Tilda Swinton’s character is bumped from being an interesting human (sweat patches of fear, practiced speeches) to token Evil Corporation Head. There’s also the questionable solutions her company finds to certain “problems” that tars over the otherwise realistic tones.
However, this doesn’t mean Michael Clayton wasn’t engaging, exciting, and thought-provoking without shoving “issues” in your face every five seconds. Georgie plays it well, and though it’s not as clever and important as its pretentious “look at me acting” end credit sequence, Clayton still racks up a CF2 for entertaining me in a different way. And all that without any robots too. Impressive.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
19th Sep 07 - Superbad
You may remember a few weeks ago I saw, and was pleasantly surprised by, Knocked Up, a remarkably grown-up, insightful comedy that still retained an immature level of silliness, which made it a barrel of different sized laughs. Its trailer and premise suggested gross-out naffness, but in reality it served up a very different slice of comedy pie. So when another film pops up from the same makers, with another trailer and premise that suggested gross-out naffness (teenage lads wanting to ‘do’ girls) I hoped that a similar surprise would occur.
It seems that surprises, like lightening, rarely strike in the same place twice.
If films portray reality correctly, then I’ve learnt over the last couple of weeks that men are perverted, sex-obsessed freaks who talk and think only about how to get women into bed, and who like to wear dead badgers on their heads (alright, maybe Hallam was alone on that one.) To be fair, none of this is a surprise. But as the first ten minutes of Superbad rolled by with a never-ending stream of crude conversations about porn and the like, I thought “crikey, is this really what lads talk about all day? Isn’t it boring. And not very funny.”
Thankfully the film warms up, as Seth (Jonah Hill - also in Knocked Up, and the spitting image of deceased Chris Penn. Seriously - put him in a blue tracksuit and he IS Nice Guy Eddie from Reservoir Dogs), Evan (Michael Cera, George Michael from the spectacularly great Arrested Development), and Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) battle to get booze (ha ha to the Americans - I could buy booze when I was 18! In your faces!) so they can go to a party and get with the girls of their dreams. It’s only when a series of crazy events introduces two dysfunctional cops (Bill Hader and Seth Rogen, the writer and star of Knocked Up) that the fun for us adults begins. And by mixing ‘fun’ with ‘adult’ I don’t mean the sort of thing Seth would enjoy. I mean things that people over the age of 15 would find funny.
It’s a shame, really, because the playful banter between the leads actually feels real. I could very well imagine boys of that age having those conversations, and realistic-ish dialogue was one of the aspects that warmed me to Knocked Up. The three leads are strong, competent comedy actors, even if Michael Cera plays the same character from Arrested Development (he plays it very well though, and the scene where he is forced to sing is fabulous.) There’s also some nice brotherly moments in there, where the strong friendship between the leads is explored (especially the sleep-over, probably the best scene of the film).
On a side note, Superbad and Knocked Up have been accused of having misogynistic tendencies by featuring only beautiful women but still having reasonably ugly men, as if that’s never happened in any film or television programme ever before. Seriously, if you want to tackle the still ever-present issue of female image in the media, don’t go after a teen movie and expect it to be the root cause. I could write a thesis on the subject, but I won’t. Someone’s probably already done so, and it’d only make me angry about the subject, and make anyone reading this stop (because men don’t give a crap about it, really, and most women already know.)
Anyway, Superbad had funny moments, a strong cast and a streak of realism in its dialogue, but an unoriginal concept, long stretches of no-laughter time, and an almost cringe-inducing insistence on forcing in every sexual reference possible. The younger, stupid brother to Knocked Up’s mature, wry big sister, Superbad will probably delight males between 13 and 16, but to everyone else it’s asking a big commitment before you get to any of the good stuff. It just misses out on a CF0 (I wouldn’t really recommend it to many people, unless I happen on a group of ‘youths’) and bobs in with a CF-1. Not super-bad, but not super-good either.
It seems that surprises, like lightening, rarely strike in the same place twice.
If films portray reality correctly, then I’ve learnt over the last couple of weeks that men are perverted, sex-obsessed freaks who talk and think only about how to get women into bed, and who like to wear dead badgers on their heads (alright, maybe Hallam was alone on that one.) To be fair, none of this is a surprise. But as the first ten minutes of Superbad rolled by with a never-ending stream of crude conversations about porn and the like, I thought “crikey, is this really what lads talk about all day? Isn’t it boring. And not very funny.”
Thankfully the film warms up, as Seth (Jonah Hill - also in Knocked Up, and the spitting image of deceased Chris Penn. Seriously - put him in a blue tracksuit and he IS Nice Guy Eddie from Reservoir Dogs), Evan (Michael Cera, George Michael from the spectacularly great Arrested Development), and Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) battle to get booze (ha ha to the Americans - I could buy booze when I was 18! In your faces!) so they can go to a party and get with the girls of their dreams. It’s only when a series of crazy events introduces two dysfunctional cops (Bill Hader and Seth Rogen, the writer and star of Knocked Up) that the fun for us adults begins. And by mixing ‘fun’ with ‘adult’ I don’t mean the sort of thing Seth would enjoy. I mean things that people over the age of 15 would find funny.
It’s a shame, really, because the playful banter between the leads actually feels real. I could very well imagine boys of that age having those conversations, and realistic-ish dialogue was one of the aspects that warmed me to Knocked Up. The three leads are strong, competent comedy actors, even if Michael Cera plays the same character from Arrested Development (he plays it very well though, and the scene where he is forced to sing is fabulous.) There’s also some nice brotherly moments in there, where the strong friendship between the leads is explored (especially the sleep-over, probably the best scene of the film).
On a side note, Superbad and Knocked Up have been accused of having misogynistic tendencies by featuring only beautiful women but still having reasonably ugly men, as if that’s never happened in any film or television programme ever before. Seriously, if you want to tackle the still ever-present issue of female image in the media, don’t go after a teen movie and expect it to be the root cause. I could write a thesis on the subject, but I won’t. Someone’s probably already done so, and it’d only make me angry about the subject, and make anyone reading this stop (because men don’t give a crap about it, really, and most women already know.)
Anyway, Superbad had funny moments, a strong cast and a streak of realism in its dialogue, but an unoriginal concept, long stretches of no-laughter time, and an almost cringe-inducing insistence on forcing in every sexual reference possible. The younger, stupid brother to Knocked Up’s mature, wry big sister, Superbad will probably delight males between 13 and 16, but to everyone else it’s asking a big commitment before you get to any of the good stuff. It just misses out on a CF0 (I wouldn’t really recommend it to many people, unless I happen on a group of ‘youths’) and bobs in with a CF-1. Not super-bad, but not super-good either.
12th Sep 07 - Hallam Foe
It’s a common truth that spying on people is lots of fun. Neighbours are fascinating, buzzing about their gardens, or their front rooms or kitchens (depends on where you’re viewing them from) doing their everyday things - boring things that you do too, but made more interesting because it’s someone else. Like the song by Modest Mouse, other people’s lives are more interesting because they aren’t mine.
Young Hallam Foe shares my fascination, only he devotes a lot more of his time and effort to it (my spying only really occurs from a seated position, unless the event really warrants a crouch by the window) and he also likes to don a dead badger on his head and wear his dead mother’s clothes and make up. Hallam’s in a different league, really.
Look up the plot keywords for this film on imdb and you’ll see a cornucopia of incestuous terms and dodgy behaviour. It looks like Jamie Bell has tried to pick the polar opposite to ‘Kes-with-dancing’ Billy Elliot, that made him a star back in the day. And who can blame him - what twenty-something lad wants to be remembered as a little skipping, jumping brat? In Hallam Foe, Bell turns in an impressive performance, mixing creepy with naïve, charming with cunning and confused with voyeuristic greatness. He carries the film, and I’m curious to see where his next move will be as an actor.
Despite the slightly disturbing nature of the plot (Hallam’s relationship choices all having a ‘mother’ theme) Hallam Foe is a much lighter film than expected. Hallam bumps into an array of jovial Scottish types on his travels, latching on to Kate (Sophia Myles), the vaguely unhinged HR worker who gives Hallam his first job, and also resembles a certain dead parent. The film follows Hallam’s relationship with her, with his own battle to get over losing his mother, and with his increasingly estranged father and rent-an-evil-step-mother (whose facial features are so strikingly evil, you wonder if she’s CGI).
So Hallam wanders away from voyeuristic-creepy and dabbles with elements of comedy and romance, as well as a bit of murder-mystery thriller. But rather than add to the film, I felt almost cheated by these plot directions. As a character, Hallam has the potential for following many dark paths, and as an actor, Bell could have coped with all, making this a challenging, powerful film. But watered down and striving for a ‘happy’ ending, the film feels like it’s pulled short of its true potential.
Not that I’m a sicko who wanted a dark, nasty film full of incest and voyeurism. But something along those lines would have certainly elicited emotion, maybe revulsion, but at least some form of reaction. Watered-down Hallam was entertaining, at times intriguing, but mostly left little impression. It’s reviewed in magazines like “Star!” and “Kabam!” and “Whatever!” with “oo Jamie Bell’s really moved on in this hot tale of blah-de-blah! Wow!” Big deal - I wanted something better than average because it’s been a long time since a film has really made me go ‘wow’. It even took me over a week before I could even be bothered to review this.
In short, though it wasn’t a bad film, it wasn’t a great film either, and I seem to be taking my ‘lack of great film’ frustrations out on it today. Harsh, maybe, but that’s the way the cinemafool world goes. Hallam gets a recommended CF0, albeit in a lacklustre tone. Now if you don’t mind, I think my neighbour’s just got home…
Young Hallam Foe shares my fascination, only he devotes a lot more of his time and effort to it (my spying only really occurs from a seated position, unless the event really warrants a crouch by the window) and he also likes to don a dead badger on his head and wear his dead mother’s clothes and make up. Hallam’s in a different league, really.
Look up the plot keywords for this film on imdb and you’ll see a cornucopia of incestuous terms and dodgy behaviour. It looks like Jamie Bell has tried to pick the polar opposite to ‘Kes-with-dancing’ Billy Elliot, that made him a star back in the day. And who can blame him - what twenty-something lad wants to be remembered as a little skipping, jumping brat? In Hallam Foe, Bell turns in an impressive performance, mixing creepy with naïve, charming with cunning and confused with voyeuristic greatness. He carries the film, and I’m curious to see where his next move will be as an actor.
Despite the slightly disturbing nature of the plot (Hallam’s relationship choices all having a ‘mother’ theme) Hallam Foe is a much lighter film than expected. Hallam bumps into an array of jovial Scottish types on his travels, latching on to Kate (Sophia Myles), the vaguely unhinged HR worker who gives Hallam his first job, and also resembles a certain dead parent. The film follows Hallam’s relationship with her, with his own battle to get over losing his mother, and with his increasingly estranged father and rent-an-evil-step-mother (whose facial features are so strikingly evil, you wonder if she’s CGI).
So Hallam wanders away from voyeuristic-creepy and dabbles with elements of comedy and romance, as well as a bit of murder-mystery thriller. But rather than add to the film, I felt almost cheated by these plot directions. As a character, Hallam has the potential for following many dark paths, and as an actor, Bell could have coped with all, making this a challenging, powerful film. But watered down and striving for a ‘happy’ ending, the film feels like it’s pulled short of its true potential.
Not that I’m a sicko who wanted a dark, nasty film full of incest and voyeurism. But something along those lines would have certainly elicited emotion, maybe revulsion, but at least some form of reaction. Watered-down Hallam was entertaining, at times intriguing, but mostly left little impression. It’s reviewed in magazines like “Star!” and “Kabam!” and “Whatever!” with “oo Jamie Bell’s really moved on in this hot tale of blah-de-blah! Wow!” Big deal - I wanted something better than average because it’s been a long time since a film has really made me go ‘wow’. It even took me over a week before I could even be bothered to review this.
In short, though it wasn’t a bad film, it wasn’t a great film either, and I seem to be taking my ‘lack of great film’ frustrations out on it today. Harsh, maybe, but that’s the way the cinemafool world goes. Hallam gets a recommended CF0, albeit in a lacklustre tone. Now if you don’t mind, I think my neighbour’s just got home…
Monday, September 10, 2007
5th Sep 07 - 2 Days in Paris
Marion and Jack have been together for two years. Marion is French, Jack is American, and at the end of their European holiday they stop by Marion’s home city of Paris for two days (hence the title), where they happen to bump into numerous men from Marion’s past, forcing Jack to question their relationship after a series of “hilarious” misunderstandings.
The above synopsis screams “rom-com” to me, and would have been a film I’d have avoided with effort, like I do with those people giving out free newspapers on the streets (they’re on the bus, they’re in my office, I don’t want any more so stop looking offended when I don’t take one. They’re free - leave them on the street and we’ll help ourselves if we want to.) But, as I seem to be mellowing with age, I gave it a go and did not leave the cinema with the usual cynical sneer and nausea.
Hats off, then, to Julie Delphy, who not only played Marion, but also wrote, directed and composed the score for this film. Smarty pants. Delphy’s story is nothing particularly new, but her delivery is frank, realistic and a little charming too. The ties between Marion and Jack feel real, filled with the nuances of a couple who have spent two years together. Squabbles, in-jokes, comfort and those niggling doubts when considering the future. As with Knocked Up, this adds a neat thorn to the usual rose-tinted view of romance.
Delphy gels with Adam Goldberg’s Jack, the two creating scenes that feel improvised, riffing off each other rather than just trawling through lines on a script. The film has several shades of ‘funny’, be it sweet little directorial touches, wry banter between family, or abstract moments like a crazy man on the tube (Goldberg’s method for scaring him away was particularly memorable).
At times the tone wavered into dodgy territory, showing France from Jack’s American perspective as a strange place, with strange traditions, full of strange foreigners doing and eating stranger things. Ooo those weird French, the Americans will be thinking (replace ‘weird’ with ‘bloody’ if you’re British). Poor old Jack, stuck in that weird country. Let’s laugh at the foreigners and their silly culture. Occasionally I had to remind myself that Delphy is French herself, quelling my assumptions that this is your usual naff Hollywood rom-com that’s set itself in a ‘foreign’ country to give the lazy writers extra jokes. And on looking deeper, Delphy tags on a few American stereotypes, with some digs about their attitude towards terrorism. She makes Jack form his own stereotypes of his surroundings and mirrors it with her family’s attitude towards ‘the American’ that she’s brought into their midst.
By steering Jack and Marion’s main problems towards the issue of thirty-something relationships, Delphy just about avoids making this another boring culture-clash flick. Instead she looks into relationships, how people cope with their destruction, with their past, and with never really knowing the other person. It’s slightly uplifting yet slightly depressing too.
Delphy and Goldberg’s chemistry add to Delphy’s strong script and playful direction. Dig into the bag of adjectives and you can bring out funny, charming, sweet, real and absorbing. Not overly original in concept, but still nicely done, 2 Days in Paris matches its days for CF points (that’s CF2 if you can’t figure it out.)
The above synopsis screams “rom-com” to me, and would have been a film I’d have avoided with effort, like I do with those people giving out free newspapers on the streets (they’re on the bus, they’re in my office, I don’t want any more so stop looking offended when I don’t take one. They’re free - leave them on the street and we’ll help ourselves if we want to.) But, as I seem to be mellowing with age, I gave it a go and did not leave the cinema with the usual cynical sneer and nausea.
Hats off, then, to Julie Delphy, who not only played Marion, but also wrote, directed and composed the score for this film. Smarty pants. Delphy’s story is nothing particularly new, but her delivery is frank, realistic and a little charming too. The ties between Marion and Jack feel real, filled with the nuances of a couple who have spent two years together. Squabbles, in-jokes, comfort and those niggling doubts when considering the future. As with Knocked Up, this adds a neat thorn to the usual rose-tinted view of romance.
Delphy gels with Adam Goldberg’s Jack, the two creating scenes that feel improvised, riffing off each other rather than just trawling through lines on a script. The film has several shades of ‘funny’, be it sweet little directorial touches, wry banter between family, or abstract moments like a crazy man on the tube (Goldberg’s method for scaring him away was particularly memorable).
At times the tone wavered into dodgy territory, showing France from Jack’s American perspective as a strange place, with strange traditions, full of strange foreigners doing and eating stranger things. Ooo those weird French, the Americans will be thinking (replace ‘weird’ with ‘bloody’ if you’re British). Poor old Jack, stuck in that weird country. Let’s laugh at the foreigners and their silly culture. Occasionally I had to remind myself that Delphy is French herself, quelling my assumptions that this is your usual naff Hollywood rom-com that’s set itself in a ‘foreign’ country to give the lazy writers extra jokes. And on looking deeper, Delphy tags on a few American stereotypes, with some digs about their attitude towards terrorism. She makes Jack form his own stereotypes of his surroundings and mirrors it with her family’s attitude towards ‘the American’ that she’s brought into their midst.
By steering Jack and Marion’s main problems towards the issue of thirty-something relationships, Delphy just about avoids making this another boring culture-clash flick. Instead she looks into relationships, how people cope with their destruction, with their past, and with never really knowing the other person. It’s slightly uplifting yet slightly depressing too.
Delphy and Goldberg’s chemistry add to Delphy’s strong script and playful direction. Dig into the bag of adjectives and you can bring out funny, charming, sweet, real and absorbing. Not overly original in concept, but still nicely done, 2 Days in Paris matches its days for CF points (that’s CF2 if you can’t figure it out.)
Thursday, August 23, 2007
22nd August 07 - The Bourne Ultimatum
Ah Matt Damon, the rectangular-headed, furrow-foreheaded blonde who made one of the best career decisions ever when he signed up to play Jason Bourne. The series blended spy fun, jolting action and a new breed of brutal fight scenes, which later filtered into Bond and made it good again. The Bourne Ultimatum enters this year’s trilogy race with a successful novel behind it, providing a head-start on the competition. Unlike the barrage of other three-quels out this summer (Shrek, Ocean’s, Spider-Man) Bourne has a story to finish, rather than a scrabble to set up a new one.
After waking with no memory in the first film, and having his little love-nest destroyed in the second, Bourne is understandably a bit peed off, so the general gist of the third instalment is that he’s still pretty peeved and still looking for more answers. It’s familiar territory to established fans (though potentially a confusing mess to any who venture in without pre-knowledge) with a variety of locations dotted through Europe, lots of cat and mouse antics, and enough chases and fights to leave you visually exhausted.
The fights are, as ever, slick yet dirty, with Bourne using whatever implement he can find that’ll do the most damage. Every thwack, crack and crunch is amplified to ear-splitting effect. It’s a good job they didn’t show Jason taking a break to eat a Toffee Crisp or the ears would have been bleeding in the aisles. Fast edits creates a frantic feel, so the inevitable car chase gets the heart pumping, but at times I wished things would calm down just a little so I could tell what the hell was going on. A large portion of the film involves watching people move quickly while the soundtrack ‘der-der-der-der-ders’ away in the background. It’s exciting, but ever-so-slightly tiresome after an hour of it.
Not that there are many negatives to this film. It’s still a taut thriller, with a strong cast, intriguing plot and some belting action pieces. I’m just not over-whelmed by it, because underneath beats the heart of a basic action. The components are all there – brooding goodie who can beat the crap out of everyone and come out of explosions and horrific crashes with barely a scratch on him. Women get in trouble and need saving by the goodie. Baddies comes in levels – level 1 being faceless chasers, level 2 slightly more difficult fighters, and the big bad sits in a control room hatching evil plans. And coincidences and lucky breaks serve as handy devices to further the plot. It’s like Die Hard without the quips.
But the Bourne series covers everything with darker shades, and with a sombre tone that makes it easier to take serious. And with a strong Damon in the lead as a believable killer who’s also sympathetic, and the final pieces to a three-film puzzle falling into place, Ultimatum is worthy of a watch. Not mind-blowing, but certainly gripping and entertaining, Bourne bumps up to CF1.
After waking with no memory in the first film, and having his little love-nest destroyed in the second, Bourne is understandably a bit peed off, so the general gist of the third instalment is that he’s still pretty peeved and still looking for more answers. It’s familiar territory to established fans (though potentially a confusing mess to any who venture in without pre-knowledge) with a variety of locations dotted through Europe, lots of cat and mouse antics, and enough chases and fights to leave you visually exhausted.
The fights are, as ever, slick yet dirty, with Bourne using whatever implement he can find that’ll do the most damage. Every thwack, crack and crunch is amplified to ear-splitting effect. It’s a good job they didn’t show Jason taking a break to eat a Toffee Crisp or the ears would have been bleeding in the aisles. Fast edits creates a frantic feel, so the inevitable car chase gets the heart pumping, but at times I wished things would calm down just a little so I could tell what the hell was going on. A large portion of the film involves watching people move quickly while the soundtrack ‘der-der-der-der-ders’ away in the background. It’s exciting, but ever-so-slightly tiresome after an hour of it.
Not that there are many negatives to this film. It’s still a taut thriller, with a strong cast, intriguing plot and some belting action pieces. I’m just not over-whelmed by it, because underneath beats the heart of a basic action. The components are all there – brooding goodie who can beat the crap out of everyone and come out of explosions and horrific crashes with barely a scratch on him. Women get in trouble and need saving by the goodie. Baddies comes in levels – level 1 being faceless chasers, level 2 slightly more difficult fighters, and the big bad sits in a control room hatching evil plans. And coincidences and lucky breaks serve as handy devices to further the plot. It’s like Die Hard without the quips.
But the Bourne series covers everything with darker shades, and with a sombre tone that makes it easier to take serious. And with a strong Damon in the lead as a believable killer who’s also sympathetic, and the final pieces to a three-film puzzle falling into place, Ultimatum is worthy of a watch. Not mind-blowing, but certainly gripping and entertaining, Bourne bumps up to CF1.
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