Coriolanus
Ralph Fiennes’ directorial debut is a muscular adaptation of one of Shakey’s least likeable works – and is timely to say the least. Awards noms, both for the strong cast and the exceptional technical credits, will undoubtedly follow.
Fiennes is predictably excellent in the war-mongering title role, backed by mother from hell Vanessa Redgrave (surely a Best Supporting Actress Oscar will be winging its way to her), Brian Cox as the slimey Menenius and a surprisingly strong Gerard Butler as Aufidius, foe of the Roman people.
Set in modern times, complete with 24/7 newsflash inserts and filmed in shell-shocked Serbia, the film’s portrayal of the eternal battle between soldiers and politicians carries considerable resonance. The devastation inflicted on the landscape is likewise wrought on the souls of the soldiers - great Coriolanus is no exception, any heart he once might have had apparently eviscerated by lifetime of combat.
Fiennes is not only in command of his performance and the script, but also of the entire production. The film is never less than cinematic, buoyed by Barry ‘Hurt Locker’ Ackroyd being the DoP.
I must confess to not enjoying Coriolanus when compelled to read it at school, but I really got to grips with the text this time round. Thanks Ralph!
(No doubt my appreciation of this was aided and abetted by a Mexican breakfast at The Diner!)
Score: 8.5/10
Dark Horse
The latest from Todd Solonz is undoubtedly the ‘what the fuck?!’ film of the festival, its crazy impact heightened by screening with Italian subtitles (WTF?!).
Jordan Gelber is the 30-something who’s never grown up – he works for his dad’s real estate company, lives with his parents, his bedroom is full of toys… His normality is turned upside down by meeting the heavily medicated Selma Blair, also living with her parents.
Before too long this arch fantasist has declared his love for the distant and disbelieving Blair - and then things really start to go wrong…
Very funny (especially office secretary Donna Murphy) and occasionally painful.
Score: 7/10
Meal break: with much time to kill, we headed to Pix again for some cracking tapas, with me attacking a cracking white rioja. We then moved to Curzon Soho for Konditor & Cook desserts!
Nobody Else But You
Touched by the spirit of Bill Forsyth, this character comedy/murder mystery is a winner in my book.
Set in the frozen snowscape of a Nowheresville town in Alpine France, our downbeat hero, hack policier writer Jean-Paul Rouve, up against the deadline to deliver his next book, stumbles upon the death of a local girl.
Taking light-hearted pot-shots at current thriller successes (our hero suggests a new Nordic pseudonym!), the film follows our hero’s encounters with the locals, each with secrets, as he attempts to solve the mystery of the Marilyn Monroe-like life and murder of Candice Lecouer (Sophie Quintin effectively channelling Norma Jean).
He is helped by a young policeman, whose motives are not entirely clear.
Like the films of Bill Forsyth, the comedy here is gentle and unforced, but no character is there simply to provide laughs.
All this is backed by great music and sumptuous cinematography. Oh, and a skinny goth girl with a thing for older writers…
A film I would happily watch time and time again.
Score: 8.5/10
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
LFF 2011: Restless, Loneliest Planet, and Wreckers
Restless
Restless, like 50/50, could so easily have been a tweenie disease of the week melodrama; thankfully, this Tim Burton-esque fairytale is offbeat, rarely delivers the expected and boasts strong performances from its two tweenie leads – Henry Hopper (son of Denis) and Mia Wasikowska.
Hopper is marked by death (in the family), while Wasikowska is marked for death (she’s got terminal cancer). The plot beats are not dissimilar to 50/50, but in this it is the friend of the patient who goes on the journey (rather than vice-versa in 50/50).
Director Gus Van Sant occasionally strays too far into indie twee, but saves his best punch for last.
Score: 6.5/10
Meal break: possibly my view of the film was informed by the consumption of pepper squid at Yo Sushi beforehand!
The Loneliest Planet
Gael Garcia Bernal is the big draw for this pretentious tosh. Langorously paced with long takes and with little dialogue, this is an exercise in dislocation.
Bernal and his girlfriend are trekking in Georgia’s Caucasus mountains and over the course of the very best part of two hours very little happens.
We see them trekking in close up, we see them trekking in long shots where they are just dots on the landscape, we watch them trek from one side of the screen to the other…
Yawn…
When the incident comes that effectively drives what passes for a plot, I was already begging for the film to end…
They’re just middle class hippies shatting their ennui on a beautiful landscape.
Avoid this crap!
Score: 0/10
Meal break: in search of some meaning, we headed towards the Punjab curryhouse at the top of Covent Garden, but instead ended up at Pix tapas bar. What a find! Mahou beer (they were out of Estrella), and top quality, proper, fresh San Sebastien-style tapas
Wreckers
By contrast, this British film of relationships set against a lonely landscape was immensely more enjoyable. With hints of Pinter and Shane Meadows, and with the ghost of Straw Dogs hovering in the background, this analysis of village life and of the dangers of returning home to right wrongs long buried beneath physical and psychological scars is compelling stuff – all the more so as it’s based on truth.
Told largely from the POV of Claire Foy’s newly wed, the story focuses on her impression of her and her husband (the brilliant Benedict Cumberbatch) returning to the village in which he grew up.
When his war-damaged brother appears unexpectedly, we know the newlyweds home will never be the same again.
The simmering passions, both for and against people, bubble up – and the unlikely twists and turns of the script are met with realistic reactions and consequences.
Score: 6.5/10
Restless, like 50/50, could so easily have been a tweenie disease of the week melodrama; thankfully, this Tim Burton-esque fairytale is offbeat, rarely delivers the expected and boasts strong performances from its two tweenie leads – Henry Hopper (son of Denis) and Mia Wasikowska.
Hopper is marked by death (in the family), while Wasikowska is marked for death (she’s got terminal cancer). The plot beats are not dissimilar to 50/50, but in this it is the friend of the patient who goes on the journey (rather than vice-versa in 50/50).
Director Gus Van Sant occasionally strays too far into indie twee, but saves his best punch for last.
Score: 6.5/10
Meal break: possibly my view of the film was informed by the consumption of pepper squid at Yo Sushi beforehand!
The Loneliest Planet
Gael Garcia Bernal is the big draw for this pretentious tosh. Langorously paced with long takes and with little dialogue, this is an exercise in dislocation.
Bernal and his girlfriend are trekking in Georgia’s Caucasus mountains and over the course of the very best part of two hours very little happens.
We see them trekking in close up, we see them trekking in long shots where they are just dots on the landscape, we watch them trek from one side of the screen to the other…
Yawn…
When the incident comes that effectively drives what passes for a plot, I was already begging for the film to end…
They’re just middle class hippies shatting their ennui on a beautiful landscape.
Avoid this crap!
Score: 0/10
Meal break: in search of some meaning, we headed towards the Punjab curryhouse at the top of Covent Garden, but instead ended up at Pix tapas bar. What a find! Mahou beer (they were out of Estrella), and top quality, proper, fresh San Sebastien-style tapas
Wreckers
By contrast, this British film of relationships set against a lonely landscape was immensely more enjoyable. With hints of Pinter and Shane Meadows, and with the ghost of Straw Dogs hovering in the background, this analysis of village life and of the dangers of returning home to right wrongs long buried beneath physical and psychological scars is compelling stuff – all the more so as it’s based on truth.
Told largely from the POV of Claire Foy’s newly wed, the story focuses on her impression of her and her husband (the brilliant Benedict Cumberbatch) returning to the village in which he grew up.
When his war-damaged brother appears unexpectedly, we know the newlyweds home will never be the same again.
The simmering passions, both for and against people, bubble up – and the unlikely twists and turns of the script are met with realistic reactions and consequences.
Score: 6.5/10
LFF 2011: 50/50, 360, and Rampart
50/50
What a cracking opening to my 2011 London Film Festival: 50/50 made me laugh and cry – and both at the same time more than once.
This could so easily have a disease of the week melodrama, but instead it reaches unexpected heights of poignancy and reality without ever being grim and depressing nor falling between stools the way Love And Other Drugs does.
Joseph Gordon-Levitt is on top form as the anal do-goody 33-year-old who suddenly finds himself diagnosed with an unpronounceable cancer. The comedy and the drama then unfold as he, his best friend (Seth Rogen), his mother (Anjelica Huston), his girlfriend (Bryce Dallas Howard), and his counsellor (the wonderful Anna Kendrick channelling some her schtick from Up In The Air) come to grips with the reality of his condition.
Directed with a commendably light touch by Jonathan Levine, the film may seem too American indie twee at the start, but as it gets under the skin of its main characters, so something greater emerges.
The relationship between the two friends is the underscore of the movie – so much is left unsaid by the pair, even at the death, but a chance discovery reveals the true depth of their bond.
A Golden Globe nom awaits Gordon-Levitt, and possibly Kendrick and Rogen.
Quite simply, this is great entertainment.
Score: 9/10
360
Is Fernando ‘City of God’ Meirelles’ the new Minghella or even worse the new Inarritu?
This is a self-indulgent, self-obsessed, meaningless work – just like the later output of Minghella and Innaritu.
Technically the film is great, with one or two good performances – most notably Anthony Hopkins who steals the movie and will probably garner some awards heat.
But otherwise it is a hollow exercise not deserving of your pennies. The more I think about, the more disappointed I am.
Score: 3/10
Meal break: after a beer at the Blue Posts, it was time to hit Ganton Street and The Diner - arguably the best burger bar in town. Wolf down a bacon cheeseburger with Diner fries (love those spices), aided by a bottle or two of Coopers ale and some great music, and I'm ready for the third film of the day...
Rampart
Woody Harrelson is on fire, full of rage and loathing, in this take on late 90s LAPD corruption. Some major awards recognition is likely.
Harrelson’s Officer Brown is a career cop after surviving Vietnam and is king of all he surveys – local bums and LAPD raw recruits quake in his wake.
The film charts his descent in paranoia and yet more rage as he is caught on film beating a man, Rodney King-style.
Unhappy at work, unhappy at home, and unable to score the blood money he needs to get by on, Brown is very much an Abel Ferrara character as the pressure on him mounts, although there is no redemption for him at all.
The entire production is well-thought out, and the high contrast cinematography presents us with an LA we rarely see on screen.
Gripping throughout, but no joyride.
Score: 7/10
What a cracking opening to my 2011 London Film Festival: 50/50 made me laugh and cry – and both at the same time more than once.
This could so easily have a disease of the week melodrama, but instead it reaches unexpected heights of poignancy and reality without ever being grim and depressing nor falling between stools the way Love And Other Drugs does.
Joseph Gordon-Levitt is on top form as the anal do-goody 33-year-old who suddenly finds himself diagnosed with an unpronounceable cancer. The comedy and the drama then unfold as he, his best friend (Seth Rogen), his mother (Anjelica Huston), his girlfriend (Bryce Dallas Howard), and his counsellor (the wonderful Anna Kendrick channelling some her schtick from Up In The Air) come to grips with the reality of his condition.
Directed with a commendably light touch by Jonathan Levine, the film may seem too American indie twee at the start, but as it gets under the skin of its main characters, so something greater emerges.
The relationship between the two friends is the underscore of the movie – so much is left unsaid by the pair, even at the death, but a chance discovery reveals the true depth of their bond.
A Golden Globe nom awaits Gordon-Levitt, and possibly Kendrick and Rogen.
Quite simply, this is great entertainment.
Score: 9/10
360
Is Fernando ‘City of God’ Meirelles’ the new Minghella or even worse the new Inarritu?
This is a self-indulgent, self-obsessed, meaningless work – just like the later output of Minghella and Innaritu.
Technically the film is great, with one or two good performances – most notably Anthony Hopkins who steals the movie and will probably garner some awards heat.
But otherwise it is a hollow exercise not deserving of your pennies. The more I think about, the more disappointed I am.
Score: 3/10
Meal break: after a beer at the Blue Posts, it was time to hit Ganton Street and The Diner - arguably the best burger bar in town. Wolf down a bacon cheeseburger with Diner fries (love those spices), aided by a bottle or two of Coopers ale and some great music, and I'm ready for the third film of the day...
Rampart
Woody Harrelson is on fire, full of rage and loathing, in this take on late 90s LAPD corruption. Some major awards recognition is likely.
Harrelson’s Officer Brown is a career cop after surviving Vietnam and is king of all he surveys – local bums and LAPD raw recruits quake in his wake.
The film charts his descent in paranoia and yet more rage as he is caught on film beating a man, Rodney King-style.
Unhappy at work, unhappy at home, and unable to score the blood money he needs to get by on, Brown is very much an Abel Ferrara character as the pressure on him mounts, although there is no redemption for him at all.
The entire production is well-thought out, and the high contrast cinematography presents us with an LA we rarely see on screen.
Gripping throughout, but no joyride.
Score: 7/10
Saturday, 13 August 2011
Review: Super 8
This is super entertainment, showcasing traditional values – both social and production/story – and highlighting JJ Abrams as one of the best mainstream directors in Hollywood today.
Super 8, while co-produced by Steven Spielberg, is very much Abrams’ film: he’s the co-producer, writer and director. His very clear intention here was to produce a sci-fi movie worthy of his master – and that he does with considerable aplomb.
The set-up is simple, combining key beats from Close Encounters and ET (but not slavishly so): kids in sleepy town in 1979 make home movie on a Super 8 camera; while doing so they witness a horrific train crash (better than The Fugitive), which unleashes some sort of beastie upon the kids’ town; the military arrive to do the clean up, conspiracy theories mount as the town goes to hell in a handcart; and it falls to the kids to save the day.
The kids are great: each of them is perfectly cast and portrayed (the two leads especially so: Joel Courtney and Elle Fanning); and their group dynamic is realistic, touching and funny. The film doesn’t talk down to them – they aren’t children, they’re small adults (a very Spielberg touch that).
Abrams keeps the story moving at just the right pace with no hamfisted jumps from scene to scene: no scene outstays its welcome nor passes by too fast.
The action/disaster sequences are brilliantly staged without being overdone. Cinematographer Larry Fong (last seen on Sucker Punch!, Watchmen and 300), working with Abrams for the first time since the award-winning pilot episode of Lost, is a significant contributor to these scenes, ensuring the audience is always on the edge of its seats. The night-time scenes are particularly finely shot, complete with Abrams’ love of lens flare.
Thankfully, among all the Spielberg homage, Michael Giacchino’s score doesn’t ape John Williams’ classic ET score.
There’s a wide-eyed innocence to Super 8 (much like the summer’s other best geek movie, Thor), which stood as a beautiful and timely counterpoint to the social unrest gripping the country outside the cinema.
If you’re a 70s kid, you’ll enjoy this massively entertaining just that bit more.
Score: 8.5/10
Thursday, 4 August 2011
Review: The Tree of Life
Hitchcock said the three key ingredients required to make a film are: “A good script; a good script; and a good script.” And while that is true, what sets cinema apart from well-crafted TV is the dark of the auditorium, the big screen and the sound, simply the capacity for film to be ‘cinematic’.Terrence Malick’s The Tree Of Life is no doubt just that – it is the essence of pure cinema – but the writer-director has never shown any interest in Hitchcockian entertainment values.
Indeed, the viewer’s shell-shocked experience of the film adds to the many juxtapositions that the film conjures through its notional story and masochistic, ambitious execution.
The film runs for two hours and 18 minutes – nothing wrong in a long run time as long you’re enthralled – and, be warned, it proceeds at a stately pace.
That nominal story of Sean Penn reminiscing about his borderline abusive father, played with some aplomb by Brad Pitt, and his family is eeked out with exacting yet numbing precision.
I have to say that I really didn’t connect with any of the characters, as well played as they were. And I think that stems from the fact that, as I get older, I can’t stand characters, no matter how well fleshed out, that are simply there to serve as cyphers or allegorical devices.
And now we get to the meat of the film. The Tree Of Life is not a film about a man remembering his near-abusive father: ultimately the film strives to address the grandest issues ever to face mankind, indeed Mother Earth herself.
Among the many themes it pontificates on are: mankind’s place in the entire history of the Earth; mankind’s ability to create set against his ability to destroy; the celestial plane versus the mortal plane; the eternal battle between grace and nature (in the sense of habit); mankind’s constructions versus the destructive power of nature (in h sense of the elements); strength versus mercy; and the obsolescence of religion set against mankind’s need for a spiritual aspect to life as life becomes wage-slavery.
Commendable no doubt, but I didn’t pay £12 to be repeatedly smashed over the head, Terrence!
And yet, and yet… There are some astonishing sequences that render the viewer speechless, scenes that simply crush you with the context they force upon your own life. The extended sequence in which Malick recreates the genesis of our planet is as truly astonishing as it is monunmentally trying.
This film is without doubt one of the most beautiful I have ever seen: every single scene is composed with such expertise, so exquisitely lit that you could unspool the film, blow up the stills by a factor of 100, exhibit them in the world’s best gallery and there they would remain, beyond the end of humanity, for whatever that comes after us to marvel at what we, those who destroyed themselves, could achieve.
The visuals are aided and abetted by the frankly amazing special effects by Mike Fink and the godhead of existential space visuals Douglas Trumbull (reinforcing the film’s connection to its spiritual predecessor, 2001), the precise editing, and another outstanding score from Alexandre Desplat (he scored The King’s Speech) that reinforces the film’s overwhelming thematic concerns.
It is clearly rich of me, one of the few people on the planet to rate The Fountain, to celebrate this film for its visual panache, while being grossly offended by its ridiculous pretension, but hey, it’s my blog!
And as my companion, Jonesy, said as we left the cinema: “The dinosaurs? What the fuck?!”
Score: 10/10 for the visuals
-10/10 for the story and its execution
Saturday, 30 July 2011
Thor v X-Men v Green Lantern v Captain America
Four super hero movies in the space of three months, three debuts and one prequel come reboot: how do they measure up?
Well, let’s cut to the chase: Thor, X-Men: First Class, Captain America: The First Avenger, and Green Lantern – that’s my ranking in descending order.
Now let’s drill into the highs and lows. Thor is undoubtedly the best of the four, its combination of director, script (co-authored by two of the guys behind the X-Men screenplay), epic sweep, central cast taking to the roles as if their lives depended on it, a romantic vein and a rich seam of humour lift it into the hallowed realm of the first two Superman, Spider-Man, X-Men and Batman films.
The decision to put Ken Branagh in the director’s chair was as surprising then as we now know it to have been effective. Equally his decision to cast his TV and stage cohort Tom Hiddleston as Loki is utterly vindicated – Thor’s devious half-brother vies with Michael Fassbender’s Eric Lensherr for best super villain of the summer.
It’s odd now to think anyone had any qualms about putting Marvel’s take on the Norse God of Thunder on screen: not withstanding that Cap has only just opened, the hammer wielder has been the most successful of the four films at the worldwide box office, raking in $447m.
Crucial to this success was its heavy reliance on a key text: JMS’s run on Thor, which juxtaposed immortals with nowheresville Americans (bringing the delightfully unforced humour) and really beefed up the tragic father-sons relationship between Odin, Thor and Loki.
The chemistry between all the leads was a joy to behold, especially between Chris Hemsworth as the titular hero and Natalie Portman as Jane Foster. Thor 2 opens on 26 July 2013.
X-Men saw another Brit at the helm: this time Kick-Ass visionary Matthew Vaughn. First time I saw it I was a little underwhelmed, but second time I really got it.
But I remain happily confused as to whether it’s a prequel or a reboot. Indeed it appears it was originally conceived as a prequel, but, once on board, Vaughn and his writer of choice Jane Goldman reworked the script in the light of the success of the Star Trek reboot.
The film has a few issues, not least its episodic structure, but the tension assuredly builds and builds and builds such that even as the story developments that you expect to occur do occur, you are nevertheless surprised and moved.
Just like Thor, the script (distilling nearly 50 years of comic and movie lore) and the final film allows time for the key characters and their motivations to develop, most enjoyably being James McAvoy’s Charles Xavier and Fassbender’s chilling master of magnetism.
Their relationship is the core of the film, but the more complex character is Lensherr, and thus the bad guy steals the acting plaudits from the good guy. Indeed Fassbender is so good, so compelling, he beats Ian McKellan’s turn in the first three X-Men films. Two outstanding scenes in particular are his training session with Charles and his showdown with his nemesis Sebastian Shaw.
Vaughn’s take on the X-Men seems a little influenced by his work on Kick-Ass: the film is one more than one occasion brutal – not all the super heroes make it out of this one alive.
There are probably too many mutants, both young and old: Jennifer Lawrence does predictably well with Mystique, as does Nicholas Hoult as Beast, but the others are just sketches by comparison – January Jones and her character, Emma Frost (perfect physical casting of course), are given little to do. The cameo appearance of a well-known movie mutant is simply gratuitous.
At times the film feels weighed by down by its own pretensions, but overall that weight is carried with honour and to great effect. The film more than comfortably serves its purpose of wiping out the memory of X-Men: The Last Stand, and sets up a whole new universe of mutants that I, for one, welcome.
Captain America, the comic book character, is one of the four key heroes that have dominated my life (the other three being Superman, Spider-Man and Wolverine).
The journey of shy, skinny, unloved, disrespected but intelligent Steve Rogers to muscular, courageous, confident, loved and respected Captain America has always chimed with me the most. When Cap died in the comics four years ago, I was absolutely gutted.
Clearly then my expectations for this film have been high since it was announced.
On the face of it, installing Joe Johnston in the director’s chair, based on the Indy Jones feel he brought to The Rocketeer (way back in 1991, lest we forget) seemed justified: after all, who’d have thought Jon Favreau would do such an outstanding job on Iron Man? Yes, Johnston hadn’t helmed a major production successfully since Jurassic Park 3 in 2001, but if he could recapture the magic touch he displayed on The Rocketeer, then Cap would be well served.
Iron Man had enjoyed perfect casting with the all-but-washed-up Robert Downey Jnr the one and only choice for the role, while the unknown Chris Hemsworth delivered in Thor, so while there have been doubts all along about Chris Evans playing Cap, there seemed sufficient evidence to suggest that no verdict could be ventured until the film was seen.
Well? Chris Evans delivers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying his brilliant; I’m not saying shower him with awards; however, I am saying that in a film that skips along relatively light-footed, Evans surprisingly brings gravitas to the role and to the film. Indeed one of the elements that had me running scared from the trailer was the CGI effects of grafting Evans' head onto a short, skinny actor; in the context of the whole film, this effect absolutely convinces, aided it must be said by Evans' own prowess. He effortlessly conjures the essence of Cap in the bullying sequence ("You don't know when to give up, do you?" chides the bully; "I could do this all day," says skinny Steve, dustbin lid for shield in hand, perfectly recalling the comic origin story) and at boot camp as he uses his brains and bravery to impress Col Phillips and the lovely Agent Carter.
While the film fails to mention the lack of a father in Rogers’ life, the film faintly sketches out his father-son relationship with Abraham Erskine (the ever-reliable Stanley Tucci). Cap’s other guiding lights are served a little better: as disbelieving Army Col. Phillips, Tommy Lee Jones does Tommy Lee Jones as only Tommy Lee Jones can, while the buxom Hayley Atwell gets just enough under the skin of Peggy Carter to have me calling for her return as Sharon Carter (Peggy’s niece) in any future Cap films.
Sebastian Stan essays Bucky Barnes well enough, and the film certainly allows for his return (and we must hope that the next film will make use of Ed Brubaker’s Winter Soldier stories).
Regrettably little room is given to develop his Howling Commandos (sans Nick Fury of course, but complete with DumDum Duggan), but at least James Montgomery Falsworth is not turned into Union Jack, simply remaining a soldier not a super hero.
One of the areas where the film falls down is the villain. When it was announced that Hugo Weaving would play the Red Skull, there was some hope for a well drawn nemesis for the hero. However, I have to report that Weaving’s Skull, while looking appropriately red and scary, does not get close to Hiddleston’s Loki nor Fassbender’s Magneto – the depth of characterisation is simply not there.
There has been much criticism of Iron Man 2 being an extended trailer for The Avengers movie: I think that’s unfair, especially in comparison with this take on Cap, which is book-ended by scenes that explicitly connect this with other Marvel film canon. And the plain truth is that Johnston doesn't recapture the spirit of The Rocketeer, but nevertheless awkwardly pitches the film as a 1940s Saturday morning flick for the kids while allowing Evans to add some heft to Cap.
Furthermore, Johnston layers the film with references to other works, notably scenes from Star Wars and A Matter of Life and Death.
The film turns over at a fair lick (but not too fast) as there is a lot of ground to cover, but it dives headlong from Cap’s first mission to his last with just a montage of missions in between, thus failing to take the time to reveal his impact on the war effort and on his country’s psyche and thus diminishing the sacrifice and meaning of his death and his subsequent (second) rebirth.
So ultimately Cap is no roaring success in the vein of Iron Man or Thor, but it’s certainly no damp squib like Green Lantern.
So finally I turn to Hal Jordan as DC’s Green Lantern. What a waste! Not for the first time, DC has watched enviously as Marvel has scored successes (in this case Iron Man), and then failed to scrutinise the roots of that success and subsequently delivered a poor effort.
There are many great Green Lantern stories I’m sure, but neither the script, nor the cast nor reboot specialist director Martin Campbell (the man who has twice relaunched Bond with Goldeneye and Casino Royale) rise to the occasion.
Ryan Reynolds comes across as a himbo rather than an emotionally damaged flyer making the ultimate hero’s journey – from the evidence of this film, you’d have to say that the Green Lantern’s ability to pick a worthy bearer is well off and needs some refining.
Any sequel, and unbelievably Warners is pushing ahead with one, will need some substantial work to create a franchise that even the comic book geeks will care about.
Best hero:
Hemsworth’s Thor just beats Evans’ Cap
Best villain:
A tie between Hiddleston’s Loki and Fassbender’s Magneto
Best redesign of the hero’s costume:
Thor
Best music:
Henry Jackman’s brilliant score for X-Men
Worldwide box office:
Thor $447m
X-Men: First Class $348m
Green Lantern $147m
Captain America $101m (after just eight days in two territories)
Scores:
Thor 8.5/10
X-Men: First Class 8/10
Green Lantern 4/10
Captain America 6.5/10
Well, let’s cut to the chase: Thor, X-Men: First Class, Captain America: The First Avenger, and Green Lantern – that’s my ranking in descending order.
Now let’s drill into the highs and lows. Thor is undoubtedly the best of the four, its combination of director, script (co-authored by two of the guys behind the X-Men screenplay), epic sweep, central cast taking to the roles as if their lives depended on it, a romantic vein and a rich seam of humour lift it into the hallowed realm of the first two Superman, Spider-Man, X-Men and Batman films.
The decision to put Ken Branagh in the director’s chair was as surprising then as we now know it to have been effective. Equally his decision to cast his TV and stage cohort Tom Hiddleston as Loki is utterly vindicated – Thor’s devious half-brother vies with Michael Fassbender’s Eric Lensherr for best super villain of the summer.
It’s odd now to think anyone had any qualms about putting Marvel’s take on the Norse God of Thunder on screen: not withstanding that Cap has only just opened, the hammer wielder has been the most successful of the four films at the worldwide box office, raking in $447m.
Crucial to this success was its heavy reliance on a key text: JMS’s run on Thor, which juxtaposed immortals with nowheresville Americans (bringing the delightfully unforced humour) and really beefed up the tragic father-sons relationship between Odin, Thor and Loki.
The chemistry between all the leads was a joy to behold, especially between Chris Hemsworth as the titular hero and Natalie Portman as Jane Foster. Thor 2 opens on 26 July 2013.
X-Men saw another Brit at the helm: this time Kick-Ass visionary Matthew Vaughn. First time I saw it I was a little underwhelmed, but second time I really got it.
But I remain happily confused as to whether it’s a prequel or a reboot. Indeed it appears it was originally conceived as a prequel, but, once on board, Vaughn and his writer of choice Jane Goldman reworked the script in the light of the success of the Star Trek reboot.
The film has a few issues, not least its episodic structure, but the tension assuredly builds and builds and builds such that even as the story developments that you expect to occur do occur, you are nevertheless surprised and moved.
Just like Thor, the script (distilling nearly 50 years of comic and movie lore) and the final film allows time for the key characters and their motivations to develop, most enjoyably being James McAvoy’s Charles Xavier and Fassbender’s chilling master of magnetism.
Their relationship is the core of the film, but the more complex character is Lensherr, and thus the bad guy steals the acting plaudits from the good guy. Indeed Fassbender is so good, so compelling, he beats Ian McKellan’s turn in the first three X-Men films. Two outstanding scenes in particular are his training session with Charles and his showdown with his nemesis Sebastian Shaw.
Vaughn’s take on the X-Men seems a little influenced by his work on Kick-Ass: the film is one more than one occasion brutal – not all the super heroes make it out of this one alive.
There are probably too many mutants, both young and old: Jennifer Lawrence does predictably well with Mystique, as does Nicholas Hoult as Beast, but the others are just sketches by comparison – January Jones and her character, Emma Frost (perfect physical casting of course), are given little to do. The cameo appearance of a well-known movie mutant is simply gratuitous.
At times the film feels weighed by down by its own pretensions, but overall that weight is carried with honour and to great effect. The film more than comfortably serves its purpose of wiping out the memory of X-Men: The Last Stand, and sets up a whole new universe of mutants that I, for one, welcome.
Captain America, the comic book character, is one of the four key heroes that have dominated my life (the other three being Superman, Spider-Man and Wolverine).
The journey of shy, skinny, unloved, disrespected but intelligent Steve Rogers to muscular, courageous, confident, loved and respected Captain America has always chimed with me the most. When Cap died in the comics four years ago, I was absolutely gutted.
Clearly then my expectations for this film have been high since it was announced.
On the face of it, installing Joe Johnston in the director’s chair, based on the Indy Jones feel he brought to The Rocketeer (way back in 1991, lest we forget) seemed justified: after all, who’d have thought Jon Favreau would do such an outstanding job on Iron Man? Yes, Johnston hadn’t helmed a major production successfully since Jurassic Park 3 in 2001, but if he could recapture the magic touch he displayed on The Rocketeer, then Cap would be well served.
Iron Man had enjoyed perfect casting with the all-but-washed-up Robert Downey Jnr the one and only choice for the role, while the unknown Chris Hemsworth delivered in Thor, so while there have been doubts all along about Chris Evans playing Cap, there seemed sufficient evidence to suggest that no verdict could be ventured until the film was seen.
Well? Chris Evans delivers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying his brilliant; I’m not saying shower him with awards; however, I am saying that in a film that skips along relatively light-footed, Evans surprisingly brings gravitas to the role and to the film. Indeed one of the elements that had me running scared from the trailer was the CGI effects of grafting Evans' head onto a short, skinny actor; in the context of the whole film, this effect absolutely convinces, aided it must be said by Evans' own prowess. He effortlessly conjures the essence of Cap in the bullying sequence ("You don't know when to give up, do you?" chides the bully; "I could do this all day," says skinny Steve, dustbin lid for shield in hand, perfectly recalling the comic origin story) and at boot camp as he uses his brains and bravery to impress Col Phillips and the lovely Agent Carter.
While the film fails to mention the lack of a father in Rogers’ life, the film faintly sketches out his father-son relationship with Abraham Erskine (the ever-reliable Stanley Tucci). Cap’s other guiding lights are served a little better: as disbelieving Army Col. Phillips, Tommy Lee Jones does Tommy Lee Jones as only Tommy Lee Jones can, while the buxom Hayley Atwell gets just enough under the skin of Peggy Carter to have me calling for her return as Sharon Carter (Peggy’s niece) in any future Cap films.
Sebastian Stan essays Bucky Barnes well enough, and the film certainly allows for his return (and we must hope that the next film will make use of Ed Brubaker’s Winter Soldier stories).
Regrettably little room is given to develop his Howling Commandos (sans Nick Fury of course, but complete with DumDum Duggan), but at least James Montgomery Falsworth is not turned into Union Jack, simply remaining a soldier not a super hero.
One of the areas where the film falls down is the villain. When it was announced that Hugo Weaving would play the Red Skull, there was some hope for a well drawn nemesis for the hero. However, I have to report that Weaving’s Skull, while looking appropriately red and scary, does not get close to Hiddleston’s Loki nor Fassbender’s Magneto – the depth of characterisation is simply not there.
There has been much criticism of Iron Man 2 being an extended trailer for The Avengers movie: I think that’s unfair, especially in comparison with this take on Cap, which is book-ended by scenes that explicitly connect this with other Marvel film canon. And the plain truth is that Johnston doesn't recapture the spirit of The Rocketeer, but nevertheless awkwardly pitches the film as a 1940s Saturday morning flick for the kids while allowing Evans to add some heft to Cap.
Furthermore, Johnston layers the film with references to other works, notably scenes from Star Wars and A Matter of Life and Death.
The film turns over at a fair lick (but not too fast) as there is a lot of ground to cover, but it dives headlong from Cap’s first mission to his last with just a montage of missions in between, thus failing to take the time to reveal his impact on the war effort and on his country’s psyche and thus diminishing the sacrifice and meaning of his death and his subsequent (second) rebirth.
So ultimately Cap is no roaring success in the vein of Iron Man or Thor, but it’s certainly no damp squib like Green Lantern.
So finally I turn to Hal Jordan as DC’s Green Lantern. What a waste! Not for the first time, DC has watched enviously as Marvel has scored successes (in this case Iron Man), and then failed to scrutinise the roots of that success and subsequently delivered a poor effort.
There are many great Green Lantern stories I’m sure, but neither the script, nor the cast nor reboot specialist director Martin Campbell (the man who has twice relaunched Bond with Goldeneye and Casino Royale) rise to the occasion.
Ryan Reynolds comes across as a himbo rather than an emotionally damaged flyer making the ultimate hero’s journey – from the evidence of this film, you’d have to say that the Green Lantern’s ability to pick a worthy bearer is well off and needs some refining.
Any sequel, and unbelievably Warners is pushing ahead with one, will need some substantial work to create a franchise that even the comic book geeks will care about.
Best hero:
Hemsworth’s Thor just beats Evans’ Cap
Best villain:
A tie between Hiddleston’s Loki and Fassbender’s Magneto
Best redesign of the hero’s costume:
Thor
Best music:
Henry Jackman’s brilliant score for X-Men
Worldwide box office:
Thor $447m
X-Men: First Class $348m
Green Lantern $147m
Captain America $101m (after just eight days in two territories)
Scores:
Thor 8.5/10
X-Men: First Class 8/10
Green Lantern 4/10
Captain America 6.5/10
Wednesday, 27 July 2011
Reviews: The Big Picture, The Princess of Montpensier, and Cell 211
Lies, lies and yet more lies: that sums up the films I saw recently on a less than summery summer’s day off. The films were: The Big Picture, The Princess of Montpensier, and Cell 211.
The Big Picture
Based on a novel, this film is engrossing as you watch it, even as the lead character conjures only your revulsion. Romain Duris (surely France’s best young actor) is the rich, successful lawyer, driver of a BMW 5 Series, owner of a boat, and husband to a beautiful wife and father to two loving children – cue collapse into midlife ennui, jealousy, and unexpected violence – and the latter’s equally unexpected opportunities. To reveal any more would spoil the story.
Duris absolutely nails his character’s paranoia, and the shifts that his ensuing actions both enforce upon him while opening up new and dreamed-of vistas of opportunity.
I presume the source novel is responsible for the ‘throwing in the kitchen sink’ approach as Duris’s journey becomes ever more implausible.
And yet, and yet… Duris is so convincing that you end up forgiving the script’s ridiculous twists. Needless to say, it’s not until he finally faces death that he can emerge from his lie of life, and face the greatest adventure with renewed vigour.
Score: 7.5/10
The Princess of Montpensier
This Bertrand Travernier costume drama was one I missed at last year’s London Film Festival – and, upon reflection, I don’t regret that decision.
The film is frequently beautiful, and throughout perfectly-well acted, but it hinges on one single conceit that singularly failed to enthral me.
The conceit? That the four male leads (among them the charismatic Gaspard Ulliel, and France’s equivalent of Morgan Freeman, Lambert Wilson) in the film should all fall hopelessly in love/lust/awe of the female lead, played (again perfectly well) by Melanie Thierry as the eponymous princess, just didn’t ring true.
As all my friends know, I am a lover of French actresses – beautiful, brilliant, intelligent, complex, many-flavoured, regularly naked etc – but I’m afraid Melanie Thierry simply fails to convince as the one true love of at least two of the four male leads. While Thierry’s princess lives a lie for much of her on-screen life, so I couldn’t help but feel lied to.
Of course, this being medieval France, all manner of calamities and coincidences bedevil the key five characters. Were it not played as a tragedy, its many overly contrived coincidences mean it could be mistaken for a Shakespearean comedy.
Strictly for Francophiles, I’m afraid.
Score: 5/10
Cell 211
This Spanish prison drama is almost the anti-Shawshank, examining male friendships in group dynamics with ice-cold precision even as tempers run hot.
Alberto Amman (a deadringer for Keanu Reeves) is the ‘innocent’ caught up in a prison riot. How he ends up in this predicament hinges upon a positively Hitchcockian coincidence, but once you get passed that, Amman’s Juan Oliver is one of cinema’s born survivors, adapting to his surroundings and fellow inmates with surprising intelligence and tenancity.
The riot leader is essayed with calm charisma by Luis Tosar, a coiled spring of rage and righteous rage against the uncaring authorities. The relationship between Tosar’s Malamadre and Ammann’s Oliver is the film’s core.
The story makes many twists and turns, which are both contrived yet believable at the same time. The growing tension is founded upon the lies Oliver has told, and how long for and by whom those lies will be believed.
Director Daniel Mozon directs with panache throughout, never flinching from the script’s grittier aspects, but also delivering the emotional beats with much skill.
Some will attempt to compare this with last year’s Un Prophet, but that would be foolish – the only thing they have in common is the prison setting.
Even as I was watching Cell 211, I was thinking: “Hollywood’s going to pick this up and remake it.” I checked on imdb.com and what do you know: there’s a US remake mooted for 2013 with either Ryan Gosling or Ed Norton in the lead role…
This is muscular, bruising ‘entertainment’, and if you can live with the coincidence upon which the script entirely hangs, then be the first to sample world cinema’s new breakout star: Alberto Ammann.
Score: 8/10
The Big Picture
Based on a novel, this film is engrossing as you watch it, even as the lead character conjures only your revulsion. Romain Duris (surely France’s best young actor) is the rich, successful lawyer, driver of a BMW 5 Series, owner of a boat, and husband to a beautiful wife and father to two loving children – cue collapse into midlife ennui, jealousy, and unexpected violence – and the latter’s equally unexpected opportunities. To reveal any more would spoil the story.
Duris absolutely nails his character’s paranoia, and the shifts that his ensuing actions both enforce upon him while opening up new and dreamed-of vistas of opportunity.
I presume the source novel is responsible for the ‘throwing in the kitchen sink’ approach as Duris’s journey becomes ever more implausible.
And yet, and yet… Duris is so convincing that you end up forgiving the script’s ridiculous twists. Needless to say, it’s not until he finally faces death that he can emerge from his lie of life, and face the greatest adventure with renewed vigour.
Score: 7.5/10
The Princess of Montpensier
This Bertrand Travernier costume drama was one I missed at last year’s London Film Festival – and, upon reflection, I don’t regret that decision.
The film is frequently beautiful, and throughout perfectly-well acted, but it hinges on one single conceit that singularly failed to enthral me.
The conceit? That the four male leads (among them the charismatic Gaspard Ulliel, and France’s equivalent of Morgan Freeman, Lambert Wilson) in the film should all fall hopelessly in love/lust/awe of the female lead, played (again perfectly well) by Melanie Thierry as the eponymous princess, just didn’t ring true.
As all my friends know, I am a lover of French actresses – beautiful, brilliant, intelligent, complex, many-flavoured, regularly naked etc – but I’m afraid Melanie Thierry simply fails to convince as the one true love of at least two of the four male leads. While Thierry’s princess lives a lie for much of her on-screen life, so I couldn’t help but feel lied to.
Of course, this being medieval France, all manner of calamities and coincidences bedevil the key five characters. Were it not played as a tragedy, its many overly contrived coincidences mean it could be mistaken for a Shakespearean comedy.
Strictly for Francophiles, I’m afraid.
Score: 5/10
Cell 211
This Spanish prison drama is almost the anti-Shawshank, examining male friendships in group dynamics with ice-cold precision even as tempers run hot.
Alberto Amman (a deadringer for Keanu Reeves) is the ‘innocent’ caught up in a prison riot. How he ends up in this predicament hinges upon a positively Hitchcockian coincidence, but once you get passed that, Amman’s Juan Oliver is one of cinema’s born survivors, adapting to his surroundings and fellow inmates with surprising intelligence and tenancity.
The riot leader is essayed with calm charisma by Luis Tosar, a coiled spring of rage and righteous rage against the uncaring authorities. The relationship between Tosar’s Malamadre and Ammann’s Oliver is the film’s core.
The story makes many twists and turns, which are both contrived yet believable at the same time. The growing tension is founded upon the lies Oliver has told, and how long for and by whom those lies will be believed.
Director Daniel Mozon directs with panache throughout, never flinching from the script’s grittier aspects, but also delivering the emotional beats with much skill.
Some will attempt to compare this with last year’s Un Prophet, but that would be foolish – the only thing they have in common is the prison setting.
Even as I was watching Cell 211, I was thinking: “Hollywood’s going to pick this up and remake it.” I checked on imdb.com and what do you know: there’s a US remake mooted for 2013 with either Ryan Gosling or Ed Norton in the lead role…
This is muscular, bruising ‘entertainment’, and if you can live with the coincidence upon which the script entirely hangs, then be the first to sample world cinema’s new breakout star: Alberto Ammann.
Score: 8/10
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