The WALTERMEDIA Film Blog

Sucker Punch ★☆☆☆☆

2012-02-04T08:44:00.000-08:00

I am not lacking in experience when it comes to sick movies. I’ve sat through some pretty nasty stuff. Hostel, the Saw films, Antichrist, Martyrs, a variety of extreme Asian torture movies – all the gore, trauma and pain has passed before my eyes either at the cinema or on the television. However, Sucker Punch has repulsed me beyond all of these bloody exploits. It’s evil. Really horrible, cynical, poisonous rubbish. And, on its cinema release, it carried a 12A rating.

With a ridiculously over-the-top visual style, Sucker Punch attempts to tell a tale that plays out like Inception for perverts and paedophiles. A young woman named Babydoll and her little sister are raped by their stepfather. While this is going on, an eerie remix of Eurythmics song Sweet Dreams moans along in the background. The lyrics ‘some of them want to be abused’ echo in the air, and when coupled with the strong sexual threat these scenes contain the whole thing feels extremely distasteful. When Babydoll retaliates she is sent to a mental institution. This is where things go from stylised reality to all-out preposterous fantasy.

The inmates in the grimy asylum all seem to be beautiful women in their 20s. However, they dress either like school girls or prostitutes, especially when Babydoll starts to imagine she is actually in a tacky burlesque club. Why? We don’t really know. It’s apparent she is trying to escape the fears on an impending lobotomy, but why she imagines something as sexualised and seedy is anyone’s guess. Maybe it says less about the characters and more about the male writers who created them.

In this strange dream-like world Babydoll creates, she is able to escape to other strange dream-like worlds when she dances, thereby creating different stages of imagination, dream and reality. In these worlds, which contain martial arts battles, Nazi war machines and growling monsters, the girls perform certain missions rather like the levels of a video game.

What’s particularly offensive is the pretence that the film is actually a pro-feminist empowerment movie where women show evil men who is boss. Because they are fighting against evil and blowing shit up, we are supposed to believe they are not being objectified. It doesn’t help that, while they are fighting, they are all dressed like dominatrix sex workers. The whole story revolves around women using their bodies and sexuality in order to get what they want. Does that sound very feminist to you?

The film repeatedly reminds us of the threat of rape these girls are exposed to from family members, the overweight cook in the asylum, and the sleazy institution manager. But instead of making this aspect clearly repulsive, the film deliberately eroticises it, with a roving camera that shows the girl’s accentuated bodies as they are forced to degrade themselves. There is a particularly nasty scene where some of the young women are executed, while their peers shriek in distress and fear (all scantily dressed). The man dealing out the violence then tries to rape one of the girls.

For a moment, I shall put aside the analysis of the movie’s morally bankrupt nature and offer my opinion on its technical achievements. It’s rubbish. The CGI is so bad I can only assume it was intended to look fake and computerised. If this is the case, then it is impossible to care about what is happening to the girls in their fantasy worlds, as none of it is real.

The performances are dreadful, although many of them don’t require much acting. Emily Browning as Babydoll barely moves her face (maybe she too underwent a lobotomy as part of her preparation for the role). The other girls are played by Abbie Cornish, a superb young actress who deserves better than this drivel, Vanessa Hudgens, in clothes that would never be tolerated in High School Musical, Jena Malone and Jamie Chung. They don’t achieve much other than managing to look sexy, terrified and bored all at the same time. I suspect that, to director Zack Snyder, this is a positive rather than a negative. It allows the creepy voyeurism that fuels the movie to flourish. There are also some bafflingly bad performances from Carla Gugino as a dancing instructor and Mad Men’s John Hamm as the doctor performing the lobotomies. They both look rather embarrassed. I don’t blame them.

Snyder has inflicted virulent nonsense on the public before (Watchmen, 300 ect) but this is his nastiest, and messiest, movie to date. The narrative changes its focus from one scene to the next and abandons all coherence and sense of order in the final showdown. The closing scene attempts to provide the audience with hopeful and positive messages. Sadly, any lasting well-meant sentiments are swiftly disposed of when the closing credits provide us with kinky shots of a girl rubbing the neck of a Champaign bottle before it explodes spraying white foam across the screen. Make of this what you will.

I do not object to nasty, debased things being depicted onscreen. But I do object to Sucker Punch because it actively asks for viewer complicity and attempts to make the threat of sexual violence and the degrading humiliation of women exciting entertainment. It then has the audacity to pretend it is empowering on a feminist level. It’s like watching a gay rights activist preaching about tolerance to homosexuals whilst brutally murdering a lesbian. Sucker Punch is a puerile, vicious piece of work. It’s depressing the BBFC saw fit to award it a 12A, and troubling it was produced by a major Hollywood studio. Thankfully most audiences voted with their ticket purchases, prompting disappointing returns at the box office. Well, disappointing for Zack Snyder and Warner Brothers, but encouraging on a sociological level.

Sucker Punch (2011), directed by Zack Snyder, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Warner Bros. Pictures, Certificate 12.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2012. Image © Warner Bros.

J. Edgar ★★★☆☆

2012-02-03T11:23:00.000-08:00

Although snubbed in the Oscar nominations, LeonardoDiCaprio’s performance as the controversial FBI head J. Edgar Hoover is nothingshort of magnificent. The film, directed by Clint Eastwood, is sadly a patchyand often turgid recount of the successes and failings of much-hated butrevered man who spent over 40 years trying to keep America safe.

The film is at its best when it attempts to explore Hoover’sprivate life. Although much of Dustin Lance Black’s screenplay seems to bebased on rumour and supposition, the portrayal of Hoover’s homosexuality issensitive and heartbreaking. It is widely believed Hoover was indeed gay, andthe film depicts him struggling to come to terms with the love he feels forBureau deputy and close friend Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer). Judi Dench gives achilling performance as his controlling homophobic mother. The film’s mostmemorable and devastating scene is when she tells her son she would rather hewas dead than homosexual.

The depiction of Hoover’s professional life isn’t as wellhandled. Black uses a similar format he employed in his 2009 biopic Milk, wherethe subject relates his experiences of the past, remembering (and sometimes misremembering)details and incidences. Some excellent make-up work successfully transformsHoover, his secretary Miss Gandy (Naomi Watts) and Tolson into older versionsof their characters, but the retrospective format doesn’t completely work. Itfeels as if we are only getting snippets of the full story, a problem the filmshares with The Iron Lady, another biographical picture which sacrificescoherence in favour of style.

This isn’t Clint Eastwood at his worst (anything would be animprovement after his awful previous picture Hereafter), but J. Edgar isinteresting and infuriating in equal measures, and fails to get under the skinof its subject in a way that would justify the long running-time leisurelypace.

J. Edgar (2011),directed by Clint Eastwood, is distributed in the UK by Warner Bros. Pictures,Certificate 15.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo ★★★☆☆

2012-01-31T14:38:00.000-08:00

Stieg Larson’s Millennium Trilogy has sold millions of copies worldwide. The books nearly always seem to be in the paperback chart and almost everyone will have heard of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo regardless of whether they’ve read the story or seen the original film.

This was the case long before Sony came along with their Hollywood remake. With David Fincher directing, they probably hoped people would look past the fact their decision to make another version of the first book in the trilogy is fuelled by arrogance and greed. Arrogance in the sense that is shows contempt for films not in the English language, and greed because they wanted a slice of a very fashionable cake that was already being clawed at by hungry fans.

So, is David Fincher’s version any good? Is it any better than Niels Arden Oplev’s superb 2009 hit? It’s actually generally fine, though rather flawed, and compared to the original it is the weaker film. If judged on its own merit, which requires one to momentarily forget the fact that it should not exist, it is a good-enough crime thriller. But it’s hard to do this, especially when you know it’s been done before, and so much better.

The film opens with a Bond-esque title sequence that is like witnessing a CGI-geek’s orgasm. Black oil, wires, computer keypads and curves of flesh all mix together with a weird remix of Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song playing over the top of it. It doesn’t fit with the rest of the film and comes across as inventive but at the same time inappropriate and immature. Considering the film’s themes of rape and exploitation, this opening number seems to revel in the horrifically dark and brutal nature of the story a little too much.

I like to think of the plot as Wallander meets James Bond via Agatha Christie. Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) is a journalist for a left-wing whistle-blowing magazine. After disgracing himself by printing facts about a billionaire criminal that turned out not to be facts at all, merely unsubstantiated rumours, he accepts the job of writing the memoirs of a rich businessman (Christopher Plummer). The memoirs form his official brief. The unofficial brief is to launch an in-depth investigation into the disappearance of his employer’s niece 40 years previously. This leads him to discover terrible secrets about a powerful family and unearth sick, sadistic sexual crimes towards women. In order to solve the mystery, he convinces a grungy troubled computer hacker, Lisbeth Salanda, to help him in his quest against some of the nastiest people in Sweden.

Salanda is played by Rooney Mara, who worked with Fincher on The Social Network. Once again, I can only sing her praises while at the same time criticising. The role of the now famous anti-heroine was so brilliantly played by Noomi Repace that I find it impossible to be that impressed with Mara’s attempt. It’s a good performance, but not a ground-breaking one. It’s already been done, and in a more believable and original way. Typically, Noomi Repace (who is Swedish) was overlooked when it came to the Oscars, but Rooney Mara (who is American) has been given an nomination for Best Actress.

Daniel Craig doesn’t offer anything new as the crusading journalist. The most interesting thing about his performance is that he talks with an English accent. Nearly all the other actors, whether they are British or American, use Swedish accents; a technique that was also used in The Reader to denote German nationality. But Daniel is allowed to continue with his normal voice. It’s odd and very distracting.

The plotting also becomes rather clumsy, particularly when it departs from the original novel and makes up its own ending involving plot alterations that are bafflingly pointless.

However, on the plus side (and the reason for me keeping the film up in the 3 star bracket), the visual style of the movie is astoundingly good. Fincher knows how to give films a great look and feel and, leaving aside the ill-judged title sequence, the picture is very visually intelligent, manipulating the mood with subtle colour changes and high production values.

Although I already knew the story, Steven Zaillian’s screenplay still contains the gripping, driving power Larsson’s writing, even if he does mess it up a bit towards the end. He doesn’t work wonders with the complex source material, but it’s serviceable enough.

If you have managed to avoid both the novel and the original (and far superior) film, David Fincher’s adaptation should work as a passable thriller. But instead of paying for a ticket to see this film, I would urge you to get the Blu-ray of the Swedish-language version, watch it, and then decide if you want to see an inferior American remake.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011), directed by David Fincher, is distributed by Sony Pictures, Certificate 18.

Image © Sony. Review © Barnaby Walter 2012.

Coriolanus ★★★☆☆

2012-01-24T23:58:00.001-08:00

Coriolanus isn’t exactly the most fun of Shakespeare plays, or the most well-known, but it provides actor Ralph Fiennes with a lot of intense material and bloody violence for his interesting and bold directorial debut.

Fiennes, who has played the title role before onstage, is a searing, menacing energy – bloody and brutal, with cold eyes that stare conflict in the face and threaten terrifying ramifications. Caius Martius Coriolanus is a war hero who has political aspirations. His domineering mother (Vanessa Redgrave) is obsessed with his rise to power, whereas his quiet wife (Jessica Chastain) takes a somewhat backseat position in his life. Led by his intelligent senator and friend Menenius, Caius is hopeful to win the love of the people. But the public are stirred up into an angry mob by a persuasive speaker (James Nesbitt) and the unrest results in our leading man being exiled and forced to join forces with his arch enemy in war (Gerard Butler).

Fiennes directs with a keen eye for dramatic impact, with scenes that practically tremble with the forceful emotions the characters are violently throwing around the bleakly-lit rooms they inhabit. The script, written by the prolific John Logan (screenwriter for The Aviator, Hugo and the upcoming Bond movie Skyfall), excises parts of Shakespeare’s original play in order to give the story a neater, more cinematic feel, but retains the playwright’s style and tone.

I have to say, there were points where the drama did become a little too solid. The scenes didn’t flow and the story seemed to be pushing against the weight of the performances – good, though they were. Some very long scenes, that may have worked on the stage, did not translate as well to the screen as one may have hoped. Having said this, however, the whole experience is worth it if only to see Vanessa Redgrave deliver a terrifying and visceral performance; one of the best of her career. Jessica Chastain, on the other hand, doesn’t get to do much except look pretty while crying with joy, fear, regret, sadness, loss (delete as applicable).

It’s a strange, unsettling and bruising film with a haunting, cold look to it. The savagely brutal ending won’t send you home thinking happy thoughts, but it does pack a powerful punch. If that’s what Fiennes was hoping for, then he’s succeeded.

Coriolanus (2011), directed by Ralph Fiennes, is distributed in the UK by Lionsgate, Certificate 15.
Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © BBC Films

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ★★★★★

2012-01-23T14:55:00.000-08:00

Some atheists find it hard to like or admire CS Lewis’s popular fantasy series, The Chronicles of Narnia. The biblical allegories, the parallels that swap Jesus for a Lion, pieces of silver for Turkish delight, and the general themes of hierarchy, monarchy, betrayal and suffering are, to some non-religious minds, problematic aspects when seen in the context of children’s literature. I am an atheist. I do not believe in a God of any kind, nor do I worry about securing my place in heaven after I am dead. This is not to say that I do not know the difference between right and wrong, good and evil, loyalty and betrayal and many of the other moral lessons that form the basis of Lewis’s first Narnia novel (although second novel in reading order). But I am fully able to enjoy the books and watch the films without getting too bothered. And the first big-screen Narnia adaptation, 2005’s The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, is a near-masterpiece – a colourful, wondrous and brilliantly enjoyable experience and a very faithful retelling of one of my favourite childhood books.

The film starts with a scene that wasn’t in the original story. An air raid is occurring in WWII Britain and the Pevensie family are running to get into their bomb shelter. They realise they have forgotten their father’s photo (he is away fighting) so there is a mad dash back to grab it from the house. All very cinematic, all very family friendly, all very sentimental, all very Disney. But, as I said in my recent review of War Horse, not all sentimentality is bad, and sometimes we need a bit of emotional manipulation. We enjoy crying as we see the mother wave goodbye to her children, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy, as they are driven away by a steam train to be evacuated to the country. Our tears mark our humanity and we enjoy being swept up in the manipulation.

In case you don’t know the drill, the jolly-happy youngsters discover a magical world in an old wardrobe they find in a room of the large manner house they go to stay in. Lucy discovers it first. She meets the faun Mr. Tumnus. Edmund meets the White Witch. When all the children finally end up in Narnia together, and meet Mr and Mrs Beaver, they learn of Aslan, the great lion who is to save them from the reign of the White Witch. But Edmund has other ideas, and leaves his siblings to warn the Witch that, by entering Narnia with his siblings, he is putting her rule at risk. As the ancient prophecies go, when ‘two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve’ sit on the thrones to rule Narnia, her power will crumble.

Of course, things inevitably end up in an all-out war between the good (Aslan, friendly talking animals, all the kids, including Edmund once he apologises for his betrayal) and the Witch and her evil cronies. But before the big battle we get the crucifixion scene, where Aslan hands in his own life in exchange for the life of Edmund. Here things get very biblical.

It is true that, up until the point of Aslan’s self-sacrifice, one could completely disregard any religious metaphors and Christian undertones. But, as Polly Toynbee discussed in The Guardian around the time of the film’s original release, this is where awkward questions start to arise. The explanation of Aslan’s resurrection is so clearly connected to the story of Christ’s return that a secular reading of it lacks the power and impact necessary for such a momentous moment in the story. My argument, I’m afraid, comes purely from my own feelings towards this aspect of the text and the film. I do not mind the story having a Christian message. If you want to believe it, that is your choice. For me, it adds another rich layer of understanding to the story.

The Narnia novels are joyful escapism, whatever your religious views are. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, a sensible book to begin with, was an enormous success when it was released in 2005. Director Andrew Adamson’s visual imagining of Lewis’s fantasy world is equal to Peter Jackson’s vision of middle-earth. The first Narnia film dares to keep childish joy and a tangible sense of wonder and awe about it, even at a time when many filmmakers are trying to re-imagine old classics as dark and very serious.

The acting of the children (or teenagers, one could argue) takes a bit of getting used to. But everything fits rather cutely into a cosy story-book feel. This isn’t gritty reality we are meant to be witnessing. It’s a fantasy. Whether you are flexible with your interpretations of the allegorical messages, agree with the Christian undertones, or remove yourself from the discussion altogether, it’s still hard not to enjoy the sheer emotional spectacle of it all.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005), directed by Andrew Adamson, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Walt Disney Studios Home Entertainment, Certificate PG.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Disney

War Horse ★★★★★

2012-01-13T23:17:00.000-08:00

It’s very easy to get cynical when faced with a film as overtly emotionally manipulative as War Horse. This could be because many overtly emotionally manipulative movies are utter trash. We forget to notice talent and fine filmmaking when they arrive dripping in the syrup of sentimentality. But although War Horse is sentimental, and very adept at opening an audience’s tear-ducts, it’s also a superb war film and a fiercely passionate story of friendship. It also happens to be directed by Steven Spielberg, a man whose name only needs to be uttered in order to bring memories of thrilling adventures, heartbreaking sacrifices and heart-pounding action sequences flooding back to one’s mind. He is a genius, and War Horse ranks up there with his greatest achievements.

At the start of the film I was a bit worried. The acting from Jeremy Irvine, as teenage farm boy Albert who trains and befriends the horse of the title, seemed a bit ropey and the dialogue a little too story-book. But, of course, the film is based on a children’s novel, and although it moves away from the book’s narrative style (Michael Morpurgo’s novel is told from the horse’s perspective) it stays firmly in the realms of child-like fantasy. And what a lush, sumptuously told fantasy it is.

Joey, the horse Albert is so fond of, is bought by the army who are gearing up for what would become the First World War. His father and mother (Peter Mullan and Emily Watson) desperately need the money to pay the rent on their Devon farm, so Albert says a teary farewell to his beloved animal. We then follow Joey’s journey through the years as the war progresses, as he moves from different countries to different owners, from the battlefields to windmills and fields.

Although marketed as a family film, there are some rather dark moments in the story, particularly when Joey and Albert, respectively, find themselves caught up in the ugliness of war. But many younger viewers will be familiar with either the book or the successful National Theatre stage production, and Lee Hall and Richard Curtis’s screenplay sensitively mixes the seriousness of war with good natured humour and memorable characterisation.

Although I had my doubts at first, Jeremy Irvine did win me over with his touching portrayal of a boy so in love with an animal he would he lie about his age and risk his life in a brutal war in order to find him.

The ever magnificent Emily Watson steals the show at the start of the film as Albert’s stressed but loving mother. There are numerous other brief but excellent supporting turns, including Tom Hiddleston and Eddie Marsan, both soldiers, and Niels Arestrup who plays a French famer who also has an emotional attachment with Joey.

Big, moving, well-made family blockbusters don’t come along very often. But when they do, they remind us how wonderful it is to be caught up in a thumping good story with characters (including animals) we can connect with and care for. In the age of big brainless 3D franchise films (Pirates, Transformers), it is wonderful to see good traditional storytelling and warm, affectionate filmmaking brought back to our cinema screens in such a stirringly successful way. I’m sure, as the years go by, War Horse will come to be regarded as a cinematic classic.

War Horse (2011), directed by Steven Spielberg, is distributed in the UK by Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2012. Image © Disney

Shame ★★★☆☆

2012-01-13T16:11:00.000-08:00

Shame is a curious and cold film from Hunger director Steve McQueen. Once again, he is working with that film’s leading man, Michael Fassbender.

Here Fassbender plays Brandon, an attractive New York office worker. He lives alone, but his sister, played by Carey Mulligan, has recently arrived to stay at his neat posh apartment. She needs a place to sleep while she’s singing in a club in the city.

The big issue with Steve – and this is the thing the film centres around – is that he is an addict. But his addiction isn’t alcohol or drugs or The Wire. Steve is addicted to sex. He spends most of his spare time either fornicating with whoever he can or masturbating over online pornography or dirty web chats.

With a script co-written by The Iron Lady writer Abi Morgan, Shame is an interesting, if rather one-dimensional, depiction of a man in the grips of mental illness. Brandon clearly needs help with his problem, but one can perhaps understand why he doesn’t seek treatment. The issue of sex addiction is still a taboo subject even in these open-minded times; more so than having issues with gambling, heroine, or spending too much money.

It’s a shame (no pun intended) that the film doesn’t demonstrate as much inspiration for daring and innovative filmmaking as McQueen’s debut picture did. There are a few key stand-out scenes. The first comes early in the film when Brandon tries to tempt a girl into sex while on a subway train. It is a little masterpiece of a scene; a brilliant exercise in producing tension and drama with no dialogue, and the hypnotic music score by Harry Escott makes it all the more compelling. Another memorable scene sees Brandon attempt to have meaningful sex with a colleague. It doesn’t end well. He seems unable to find the thought of love and romance sufficiently stimulating.

The film touches on the extraordinary quite a few times, but pulls back, rather disappointingly, intent on observing the characters in the film from behind an impenetrable non-judgemental wall. Although the film that endeavours to give us a character study of a fascinating man, we don’t get close enough to Brandon’s character to care about his disorder. We remain held at arm’s length, uninvolved with what is happening onscreen.

Fassbender is completely convincing in a very difficult and challenging role. Sadly I cannot say the same about Carey Mulligan. She is usually nothing short of magnificent, but for the first time I found her performance disappointing. I didn’t buy the unpredictable hysteria of her character, and her American accent is all over the place.

This isn’t a bad film, but it isn’t the outstanding success many wished it to be. McQueen remains a bold and vibrant talent in British filmmaking. I just wish this attempt had been a little bit stronger.

Shame (2011), directed by Steve McQueen, is distributed in the UK by Momentum Pictures, Certificate 18. Sensitive prospective viewers are advised to seek more information on the film from www.bbfc.co.uk.

Faces in the Crowd ★★☆☆☆

2012-01-13T06:18:00.000-08:00

When Anna (Milla Jovovich), a primary school teacher (or elementary school teacher, as our friends across the Atlantic call them) is attacked by a serial killer after witnessing him commit a murder, she suffers severe brain damage due to a trauma to the head. As a result, she starts to suffer from Prosopagnosia, a disorder which distorts face perception, rendering her unable to recognise the faces of even her partner, dad, closest friends and colleagues.

This may have been an interesting premise had the film not abandoned subtlety for crude horror gimmicks. Instead of compellingly investigating the condition the script becomes obsessed with the threat the serial killer, who remains still at large throughout the movie, may pose to Anna. It becomes a rather strange sort of who-dun-it, and not a very convincing one at that. Milla Jovovich is a passable actress, and this may well be her most interesting performance to date. It’s a shame the script is so clunky.

Anna’s condition is conveyed to the audience by the switching of different actors in the supporting roles, so the audience cannot identify who is who any more than she can. This is an interesting trick, but can’t save the film from drowning in a pit of mundane hysteria.

Faces in the Crowd (2011), directed by Julien Magnat, is available on Blu-ray and DVD from Metrodome Group Ltd, Certificate 15.

The Hunters ★☆☆☆☆

2012-01-12T02:20:00.000-08:00

The Hunters is an abysmal horror thriller that starts off poorly and continues to climb ever lower down the ladder of quality. The story involves three separate strands that begin to intertwine. One is the story of an ex-army veteran who enters a town’s police force while clearly suffering from PTSD. He is suspicious about the growing amount of missing persons, and clues start to point to a suspicious woodland area. But this is where a group of bored men have their fun. They hunt things (people it seems) and then do unspeakable things with the bodies. The third story thread concerns a young woman (Dianna Agron from Glee), although her role in the film is rather superfluous.

As the story becomes more and more bizarre, and the acting increasingly atrocious, I began to lose all hope in finding a gripping coherent narrative within it. At one point things start to become inventively nasty, with homoerotic necrophilic undertones, and I wondered whether entertainment levels may rise out of sheer weirdness. But any gory impact of these scenes is squandered by the amateur production values and the shoddy screenplay.

Dianna Agron is a good actress, and does well with her rather pathetic role. She deserves better material than this. I was hoping she might break out into an Avril Lavign song during the more bloody moments in order to give the film a sense of deranged irony. No such luck.

The Hunters (2011), directed by Chris Briant, is available on DVD from Lionsgate, Certificate 18.

The Iron Lady ★★☆☆☆

2012-01-06T10:02:00.000-08:00

Whether you’ve seen The Iron Lady yet or not, it’s quite likely you’ll have an opinion on it. Some have been appalled at its intrusive nature, expressing dismay that the filmmakers haven’t waited until Margaret Thatcher’s death before portraying her as a frail old lady with dementia. Others have speculated as to how director Phyllida Lloyd and screenwriter Abi Morgan will choose to portray her. Monster of British politics? Saviour of our country? Or something more in the middle; a flawed hero, maybe. Or a demon with a soft side. Sadly, the film falls a little too deep into the middle, and becomes obsessed in not judging the title character to an extent that feels naive and frustrating. I fear this will be a problem whichever side of the political fence one may occupy.

I do not admire the politics Margaret Thatcher’s government stood for. However, I do respect her for her achievement in getting elected and for staying in power for as long as she did. Her life is full of remarkable successes and events. It is also full of mistakes and bad decisions. This film tries to give all of this screen time, the good and the ugly, and some moments are very effective. The scenes where Margaret has to decide whether to fight the invasion of the Falkland Islands with discussion or force are riveting. Moments from her past, when she failed to get elected, then when she later became an MP, are intriguing and nicely played.

But the main problem with this film doesn’t lie within its political portrayal of Britain’s first female Prime Minster (although there are issues there). It lies within the film’s structure and the decision to play the film as a series of flashbacks influenced by Margaret’s worsening dementia and frequent hallucinations. The film starts and ends with her imagining her dead husband, Dennis, is still walking around her apartment talking to her. Morgan’s screenplay gets so caught up in showing us who Margaret is now, we don’t get enough of how she was then, back when she was in power. It’s puzzling why a writer would want to avoid making this part of her life the main body of the film. At first it seems that the scenes of the old Margaret are going to book-end the film, but no, they continue all the way through. I have mixed feelings about the decision to portray her as old and mentally ill while she is still living, but narratively speaking these moments, in the end, damage the film rather than help it achieve a coherent and valid representation of a remarkable woman.

The name I have not yet mentioned is Meryl Streep. She is extraordinary. I never doubted she would be. She is a marvellous actor; part of a very special group of performers who have that special charisma and talent that allows them to work magic with even the most flawed of scripts. But flawed this script is, and although her impersonation of Margaret Thatcher is astonishingly good, it isn’t enough to save this picture from itself. She deserves an Oscar nomination, as does J. Roy Helland, the man responsible for her make-up. Broadbent is fine as her husband, although his performance feels a little too familiar (watch some of his other films and you'll see what I mean). Of the supporting players, Olivia Coleman is perhaps the best, and is almost unrecognisable (once again due to clever make-up) as Carol Thatcher.

I get the feeling the filmmakers, or at least the distributors, were hoping this would become 2012’s answer to The King’s Speech. There is a particular scene in the film that will remind observant viewers directly of that very picture. It is released a year (almost to the day) since Tom Hopper’s film, and many have been predicting it to conquer at the award ceremonies in a similar way. I don’t think audiences will take to it in the same way. It is a biopic of a famous British figure, but it doesn’t have triumph, friendship and heart at its core. It’s hard to know what it does have at its core. Whatever it is, it isn’t something that leaves such a rewarding feeling. The whole thing is a very odd, and disappointing, experience.

The Iron Lady (2012), directed by Phyllida Lloyd, is distributed by Twentieth Century Fox and Pathe, Certificate 12A.

Eternal Summer ★★★★☆

2011-12-31T07:59:00.000-08:00

This is a thoughtful and well acted drama, adapted from a novel by Chi-yao Wang. Jonathan and Shane are two schoolboys thrown together by chance when their teacher makes them befriend each other. Shane has problems concentrating and the teacher hopes Jonathan will help him stay organised and out of trouble. As the two boys grow up their friendship is tested when they become interested in the same girl, Carrie. At first, it seems as if Jonathan and Carrie will become an item, leaving Shane isolated and alone. But things don’t really get going between them, and before long Carrie and Shane drift closer to each other. It’s clear that Jonathan envies their relationship, although his love seems to be for his best friend rather than his girlfriend.

There are hundreds of films devoted to the subject of unrequited love and teenage crushes, and Eternal Summer high on the quality scale. It doesn’t exactly break any new ground, but its story is simple and touching and played out in a no-nonsense, sensitive way. The script avoids melodrama and hysterics, and the chemistry between the three leads feels very natural. It’s a pity it didn’t receive a bigger release in Britain, but if you come across the DVD I’d recommend taking a look.

Eternal Summer (2006), directed by Leste Chen, is available on DVD from Parasol Pictures, Certificate 15.

Kill List ★★★☆☆

2011-12-30T15:47:00.000-08:00

Watching Kill List was, for me, a rather disappointing experience. When it was released in theatres last autumn it received a large amount of critical fawning and praising. I can understand why. It’s got some intelligently written dialogue in it. It’s shockingly bloody at times (and I mean shocking). And it has a whiplash turn of genre (which I won’t say too much about); the type that has you going “What the hell have I wondered into??!” But I couldn’t must the enthusiasm for it other writers have. However, it does have the bravery to be different, and the balls to wrong-foot the audience more than once and get away with it. It’s a strange, strange picture.

The movie starts off with domestic drama of the sweary, loud, plate-smashing kind. A wife is pissed off with her husband spending all their money. Then the husband (Neil Maskell) and his best friend (Harry Simpson) go on a killing spree, working through a list given to them by a creepy client. The tension builds, the violence escalates, then in a bizarre final act, we begin to see the true, sickening nature of where the story is headed.

The final scenes are really quite nasty, although I don’t necessarily mean that as a criticism. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was nasty, but also brilliant. But Kill List lacks such brilliance because of its refusal to answer the questions the viewer can’t help but ask. The final twist is the film’s biggest weakness, but because it’s so surprising many will choose to see it as its main strength. It crosses over the line of ambiguity into the realms of the annoyingly nonsensical.

Before the hellish conclusion everything is done very well indeed. A sense of foreboding and menace is expertly evoked, and the gory violence is savagely effective. There’s also some witty black comedy too, the highlight being a scene where Maskell’s character confronts a group of happy-clappy Christians who are obnoxiously spreading the love of god in a hotel restaurant.

Director Ben Wheatley, a rising star in low-budget British cinema, clearly has a lot of very interesting ideas. But because he abandons logic and goes for all out weirdness towards the end, the film loses credibility and fails to pack the punch it so desperately wants to. The closing moments offer up a final horror that is extremely vile, reminiscent of 2010’s sick-fest A Serbian Film. I can see what Wheatley was trying to do, and to some extent he just about manages it, but I don’t think this was his finest hour. I await his next film with interest.

Kill List (2011), directed by Ben Wheatley, is available on blu-ray disc and DVD from StudioCanal, Certificate 18. Due to the film’s subject matter, sensitive viewers are advised to seek further information on its content from www.bbfc.co.uk

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows ★★☆☆☆

2011-12-22T03:10:00.000-08:00

The first Guy Ritchie Sherlock Holmes film, released two years ago, upset Arthur Conan Doyle purists, but I found it a rather fun period romp. It had some good set pieces, a tight and witty script and a great central performance from Robert Downey Jr. as the famous Baker Street-dwelling sleuth.

This follow-up is rather disappointing. The story is all over the place and the performances and Ritchie’s quirky directorial style can’t save the feeling of messy aimlessness that pervades the whole proceedings. The plot concentrates on Holmes’s legendary enemy Professor Moriarty (Jared Harris), and sees our martial-arts trained detective and his BFF, the recently married Dr. Watson (Jude Law), attempt to foil the evil academic and save the world from an impending war.

Stephen Fry as Holmes’s eccentric brother Mycroft is rather amusing, but other members of the cast (such as Noomi Repace, lacking her Dragon Tattoo) are nothing but window-dressing. Guy Ritchie’s visual style (slow-mo fight scenes, fast camera swooping) felt fresh and exciting in the 2009 venture. Now it all feels rather immature and boring. It gets in the way of the story and made me long for a bit of peace and quiet.

There are some interesting things about it. The banter between Holmes and Watson is very funny. The film is also superbly shot with a gorgeously atmospheric colour-palette. Hans Zimmer’s music is also rather rousing.

Sadly, the film becomes too much of a comedy (and a very awkward, self-conscious one at that), putting style before substance. The well-handled ending is spoiled by a final twist, played for laughs, that wrecks any power or suspense that could have been created if the script had possessed the confidence to follow it through. A Game of Shadows is a forgettable, silly mess. Such a shame.

Sherlock Holmes: A Gamer of Shadows (2011), directed by Guy Ritchie, is distributed in the UK by Warner Bros. Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Warner Bros.

New Year's Eve ★☆☆☆☆

2011-12-22T02:17:00.000-08:00

All of this film is rubbish. The only good thing I can find to say about it is that the cast seem to have had fun while making it. Is that any use to us? Not really. Does is stop it being empty, commercial, lazily written drivel. Not at all.

Following the format of Gary Marshall's last funeral of culture, Valentine's Day, this has lots of people discovering or rediscovering love on a famous calendar date. This movie is set on New Year's Eve (as you may have guest), and observes the life of several characters as they prepare for the night's festivities in New York.

Jessica Biel is having a baby. Katherine Heigle is in love with Jon Bon Jovi. Ashton Kutcher gets stuck in a lift with the annoying girl from Glee. Josh Duhamel needs to meet a girl from the past at midnight. Sarah Jessica Parker thinks she's still in that old TV show about shoes and blow jobs. Michelle Pfeiffer and Zac Efron have a creepy Hairspray reunion as they try to tick off New Year's resolutions before the midnight countdown (they seem confused as to how and when these resolutions should be completed).

There are probably more celebrities that I haven't mentioned, but if I continue to list them I may lose the will to live.

The performances are all dire, apart from Robert De Niro (ah, there's one I left out, sorry Rob) who gets to do a post-Notebook style illness moment with his usual attention to detail. Sadly the script is an insult to his talent.

Mr Marshall seems to think the height of humour is a woman slapping a man, or asking the audience to laugh at funny accents (don't foreign people talk funny, eh!).

I was so bored that at one point I resorted to the 'Spot the Broadway and Movie Posters in Times Square' game, and became deeply interested in the large prominence of Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows posters everywhere. But this movie is released by Warner Bros, Sherlock is released by Warner Bros, so it doesn't take a genius to work out why we are constantly shown Robert Downey Jr.'s printed face.

At the end of this sickening affair we are treated to a plug for Valentine's Day on Blu-ray and DVD via Jessica Biel's vagina. An, now that's what my Christmas was missing.

New Year’s Eve (2011), directed by Gary Marshall, is distributed in the UK by Warner Bros. Pictures. Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image ©Warner Bros.

Tere Naam ★★★★☆

2011-12-02T03:01:00.001-08:00

This is an epic romance, shot with a keen eye for all things colourful and beautiful. It tells the story of the love between a young couple who are denied the happiness they deserve. Of course, parallels could be drawn between this and many other great love stories – most notably Shakespeare’s Rome & Juliet – but director Satish Kaushik adds flare and originality to this tale of star-crossed lovers.

Nirjara (Bhoomika Chawla), a young middle class Hindu woman, is supposed to be marrying a man she does not love, and has agreed to go along with it, to please her family. But then she meets a lower class young man named Radhe (Salman Khan), and before long the two realise their love for each other. As you might expect, tragedy strikes: Radhe suffers a serious trauma to his brain, causing him to be taken to a controversial hospital where he can be treated.

Although those not used to the joys of Bollywood filmmaking may find the melodrama and corny musical numbers a little trying, I predict many will be won over by the film’s passionate and deeply involving love story. Salman Khan, although perhaps at times not the most convincing actor in the world, is nevertheless an enigmatic leading man, and Bhomika Chawla gives a sensitive and nuanced performance. This is an emotional and very cinematic celebration of life and love, and the difficulties they cause.

Tere Naam (2003), directed by Satish Kaushik, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Eros International, Certificate 12.

Dream House ★☆☆☆☆

2011-11-29T07:21:00.000-08:00

I'm not surprised that this film had a troubled time in production, nor am I shocked that its director or cast weren’t impressed with the final cut of it. What does surprise me is that Daniel Craig, Rachael Weisz and Naomi Watts ever agreed to star in it in the first place.

It’s one of those horror movies that features a knockout twist half way through. The trouble with the knockout twist in Dream House is that anyone who has seen the trailer knows what it is. This means the first half of the film contains virtually no suspense. But even if we didn’t know the secret of Craig and Weisz’s new dream home, and why the neighbours act strangely towards the house, it’s so clumsily played out that I doubt we would care anyway.

Daniel Craig struggles with a script that sounds as if it was written using screenplay-writing software. Rachael Weitz doesn’t get to do much except walk around the house looking content with life, then, when freaky things start occurring to her children, walk around the house looking vaguely concerned. Naomi Watts is sidelined, and fails to add any spark of life or emotion to her one-dimensional supporting character.

As a horror film, it’s dire. There’s some predictable and ineffectual jump moments, and a rather grisly scene where we get some bullet-wound close-ups on the bodies of murdered children. But any objectionable and distasteful content is mitigated by the awfulness of the whole thing.

The final revelation, which attempts to explain what’s been going on, how, and why, is utterly preposterous. Many of the plot developments leading up to the tension-free final showdown are nonsensical and ridiculous, and the big ‘whodunit’ reveal is laughably absurd.

This is a risible, bafflingly bad mainstream trash. I hope it sinks without a trace.

Dream House (2011), directed by Jim Sheridan, is distributed in the UK by Warner Bros. Pictures, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Morgan Creek Productions

This screening I saw of this film was badly projected by ODEON Cinemas Southampton. The picture did not fill the screen, it was slightly at an angle, and either the screen or projector lens was dirty. Sadly, from my experience, this is the type of service that is becoming typical of this cinema.

Angels of Evil ★★☆☆☆

2011-11-29T06:02:00.000-08:00

Italian gangster Renato Villanzasca’s life, before being sentenced to hundreds of years in prison, may have been full of robberies, brutal slayings, torture, sex and drug use, but it makes for a strangely dull biopic. Established and capable director Michele Placido’s take on his violent and unpredictable life is visually striking, but the narrative just catalogues various horrible events in a rather yawn-inducing way.

Kim Rossi Stuart, who also co-wrote the screenplay, lacks charisma as the infamous criminal. There are some nicely directed moments (there’s one extremely chilling murder scene that genuinely manages to shock), but the film lacks buzz, sharpness and energy.

Angels of Evil (2011), directed by Michele Placido, is distributed in the UK by Artificial Eye, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © 20th Century Fox.

Fair Game ★☆☆☆☆

2011-11-28T09:09:00.001-08:00

This incredibly tedious political thriller, from The Bourne Identity director Doug Liman, tries and fails to make an intelligent and compelling drama out of the 2003 Valerie Palme scandal.

Palme was a CIA agent involved in international operations. During the WMD fears of the early 2000s, her husband Joseph Wilson, due to his knowledge and background, was asked by the CIA to investigate whether or not Iraq was obtaining yellowcake uranium to use in the manufacturing of nuclear weapons. However, although Wilson reported that, in his opinion, the procuring of such materials from Niger was not occurring, George W. Bush made a speech that said the opposite. Wilson’s information was, it seems, altered to suit the argument for war. Understandably outraged, Wilson then published an article in the New York Times branding the reports that yellowcake uranium was being obtained by Iraq as false. Not long after, his wife’s name is leaked to the press, revealing her as a CIA agent, ruining her current overseas operations and endangering her sources of intelligence.

The above is a very simplified summary of what occurred. The film goes into more detail, although it needn’t have bothered. Its woefully inept attempts to explain these events are not only eye-wateringly boring, much of it rather audaciously manipulates the truth of what actually happened. Naomi Watts is a very competent actress, but here her performance is founded on stern-jawed stares and lots of blonde hair. It’s a watered down repeat of her turn in The International. Sean Penn is even worse, and fans of his better movies will be clasping their heads in despair throughout the film’s (mercifully short) running time.

There are some good things about it. The score, written by John Powell, is rather stirring. The film has good intentions on its side. But none of this could save me from the feeling of crushing disappointment as I watched a director of Doug Liman’s calibre turn a potentially riveting true story into a crass political pantomime. Valerie Palme deserved better than this.

Fair Game (2011), directed by Doug Liman, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Entertainment One, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Summit Entertainment

My Week with Marilyn ★★★★★

2011-11-26T08:54:00.001-08:00

I've said it before and I’ll say it once again: this autumn/winter has been a brilliant season for cinema. Drive, The Ides of March, We Need to Talk About Kevin, Tyrannosaur, and Midnight in Paris have been my personal favourites, and I’m sure a lot of others would add Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy to their lists. Now we have a new candidate for my favourite movie of 2011: My Week with Marilyn.

Adapted from Colin Clark’s memoir The Prince, the Showgirl and Me, the film tells the true story of Colin’s brief relationship with Marilyn Monroe while she was in England shooting at Pinewood. The production of the film, The Prince and the Showgirl, was not smooth, and saw clashes between director Lawrence Olivier and Ms Monroe. Colin, a 23-year-old film fanatic, worked as the third assistant director on the picture and quickly became Marilyn’s friend and confidante.

There are so many wonderful things about the film it’s hard to know where to begin. I’ll start with the wonderful, glittering cast. Eddie Redmayne, a very talented and extremely good-looking actor, is completely believable in the role of Colin Clark, perfectly crafting his character out of a mixture of warm enthusiasm and youthful naivety. Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe is astonishing, and will hopefully earn her another Oscar nomination next year. Although doubts were raised when she was cast, Williams doesn’t disappoint. She is Marilyn through and through, and succeeds in making her both flawed and intensely likable. The third great performance in the film is Kenneth Branagh as a frustrated, though frequently hilarious, Lawrence Olivier. His portrayal of a filmmaker struggling to come to terms with his age, while working with an unpredictable co-star, demonstrates what a truly exceptional actor he is. I hope he isn’t overlooked when it comes to awards season. Notable supporting players include Judi Dench as Dame Sybil Thorndyke, Zoe Wannamaker as Marilyn’s controlling acting coach, and Philip Jackson as the bodyguard hired to protect the most famous woman alive from her obsessive fans. The film also features a sweet small turn from Emma Watson as a wardrobe assistant Colin is rather fond of before Marilyn steals away his attentions.

Director Simon Curtis’s previous efforts have been all made for television, and include David Copperfield, Cranford, A Short Stay in Switzerland and Five Days. I have been a fan of his work for a long time, and am overjoyed to see him make such a wonderfully enjoyable big screen debut.

Cinematographer Ben Smithen’s output has been mostly televisual, but the look he gives this film has its roots in cinema. Gushingly colourful, beautifully filmed scenes perfectly evoke the emerging glamour of the time. The film also contains some of the most gorgeous shots of the British countryside I have ever seen on the big screen.

Hardcore Marilyn fans may wish for a picture that probes deeper into her troubles and achievements, but it is important to remember this is Colin’s story, and the narrative stays dutifully focused on him.

A co-production between the BBC and The Weinstein Company, My Week with Marilyn is a perfect example of the benefits of UK and American co-productions. It has a very British feel to it, superb production values, and a brilliant cast. I hope audiences will take to it as they did to The King’s Speech, another recent Weinstein-UK collaboration. It is a fun, involving, feel-good movie, and perfect escapist entertainment for lovers of cinema and those who need a break from the stresses of work or Christmas shopping.

My Week with Marilyn (2011), directed by Simon Curtis, is distributed by Entertainment Film Distributors, Certificate 15.

Arthur Christmas ★★★☆☆

2011-11-24T11:38:00.001-08:00

Ardman, the Bristol-based company who are best known for their stop-motion Plasticine animation, seem to have effectively transferred their skills to CGI. Arthur Christmas, their second computer-animated feature, is a fun-filled festive treat and retains that very British feel Ardman’s old cartoons had.

The plot features Santa’s youngest son Arthur (James McAvoy) trying to deliver a present to a young girl in Cornwall who, by mistake, got left off the Christmas delivery schedule. The deliveries are now not done in a sleigh by military-style elves that descend on city by city, town by town, like a very generous branch of the SAS. Santa (Jim Broadbent) is now just a figurehead and the whole project is run by his eldest son Steve (Hugh Laurie) using tablet devices and intercom. But Arthur wants things to be like they were in the old days, so with the help of his grandfather and his old wooden sleigh, he sets out to make sure that poor little Cornish girl gets her much-desired present.

There is a point in the movie when adults may start to wonder where the plot is going and how long it is before they can get back to organising their own Christmas gifts. Most younger viewers, however, should be enchanted from beginning to end. The colourful animated style is great to look at and with the help of a talented voice cast there are plenty of witty laughs to be had.

It did at one point occur to me how hypocritical it was for a company like Sony to co-produced and distribute a film that tries to sell us the message that new technology ruins the spirit of things we know and love. Especially when they shove a close-up of a Sony Bravia television down our throats (the elves have to unscrew it to get out a house, you see).

It may not have the emotional power to become a Christmas classic, but it serves a purpose and does it rather well. Oh, and it doesn’t need 3D, but a baby elf with a low IQ could have told you that.

Arthur Christmas (2011), directed by Sarah Smith, is distributed by Sony Pictures, Certificate U.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Sony.

The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 1 ★☆☆☆☆

2011-11-18T16:14:00.001-08:00

Back in 2008, I was pleasantly surprised with the first movie in The Twilight Saga. It had interesting characters, a good script and was confidently directed by Catherine Hardwicke. The series then went a bit downhill with New Moon (a.k.a. Moody teenage girl moans miserably for two hours), which had Golden Compass director Christ Weitz at the helm. But the pace and energy was picked up by David Slade with Eclipse last year. But now we have Breaking Dawn Part 1, directed by Bill Condon. And it’s bad. It’s really bad.

The decision to cut this book in two is rather sneaky, especially as the idea was almost certainly snitched from another major fantasy move franchise (no prizes for guessing which one). This penultimate instalment sees human Bella and sexy vampire Edward get married. And they have sex. Oh, and Bella gets pregnant with a vampire child. This may sound like a major plot-spoiler, and I wouldn’t normal reveal such momentous events, but the buzz surrounding these three occurrences has been so noisy (bloggers have been wondering how the birthing scene would be filmed ever since the first movie came out) that hardly anyone could have failed to hear about what was going to happen in this film.

In case you’re not aware, Edward isn’t the only one who loves grumpy Bella. Hot wolf boy Jacob loves her to. He does a lot of big important stuff in this film, and only a small amount of it makes sense. The rules and mythology of vampire/human/wolf relations are written and rewritten from one scene to the next.

I have to say that Kristen Stewart, who has always been reliably awful in the past, was the least terrible she has been so far this series. I can’t damn the rest of the cast with such faint praise. It’s as if everyone had to have a lobotomy before being allowed on set. Taylor Lautner as Jacob is purely porn for women and gay men, nothing more. Robert Pattinson doesn’t really act; he just looks pained and creepy.

The biggest disappointment for me was the music. New Moon and Eclipse featured magnificent and imaginative scores from two of the world’s greatest film composers working today, Alexandre Desplat and Howard Shore. But for this movie Carter Burwell has been hired once again (he wrote the unremarkable score for the first film), and subtlety completely goes out the window. Most of the time we don’t even get to sample Burwell’s score. Instead we just get grating loud and inappropriate pop and rock songs inserted over the top of the many pointless scenes (such as Bella shaving her legs before she beds Edward). At one point the band at the wedding scene plays a scratchy little arrangement of Sia’s My Love, which was used when our two lovers were kissing in the previous film. The sound of it would embarrass even Frankie Cocozza.

In terms of the sex, there is barely any. It’s done ultra-tastefully so as not to upset the American ratings board. The BBFC summed it up perfectly in their consumer advice report, saying that the film’s love scenes contained ‘little sexual thrusting’. But, although the film is shy when it comes to sex, it’s rather graphic when it comes to the birth scene. Be prepared, that’s all I say.

The computer animation of the giant wolves (the forest dwelling clan that are always having issues with the vampires) is laughably bad, especially when they start talking. Of course, there is a certain amount of knowing humour (Jacob rips his top off within the first two minutes), but the series has now become a camp parody of itself. There are far too many kitsch dream sequences, and when you can’t take the film even remotely serious, the oh-so-intense love story at the centre of it becomes very boring.

Breaking Dawn Part 1 is a strong contender for worst film of the year, joining the The Hangover Part II, Transformers: Dark of the Moon and Little Red Riding Hood. It’s vacuous, ridiculous and a complete waste of time. And I’m sure 14-year old girls across the country are already addressing their hate mail to me for saying this. Bring it on, Twihards.

The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 1 (2011), directed by Bill Condon, is distributed in the UK by Entertainment One Distribution, Certificate 12A.

Reivew © Barnaby Walter. Image © Summit Entertainment.

The Rum Diary ★★☆☆☆

2011-11-18T10:28:00.001-08:00

This is a rather unsuccessful adaptation of the semi-autobiographical novel by Hunter S. Thompson, a fictionalised account of his experience as a writer trying to make his mark in the world of journalism and publishing.

Our protagonist’s name is Paul Kemp (Johnny Depp), a struggling author who arrives in Puerto Rico to work as an astrologer on a major newspaper. Whilst writing, his love for alcohol and drugs starts to get in the way of his job. But even when sober, Paul finds it hard to progress onto proper investigative journalism, as his editor (Richard Jenkins) is not keen on rocking the political and social boat.

Paul befriends his colleagues, most notably a failing photographer (Michael Rispoli) and an insane Nazi religious correspondent (Giovanni Ribisi), a dodgy property investor (Aaron Eckhart), and his sexy girlfriend (Amber Heard). These people cause Paul to have many drunken, and sometimes life threatening, days and nights of chaos.

The film has barely a structure to speak-of, and serves as yet another reminder that narrative anarchy on the page doesn’t always translate well onto screen. Bruce Robinson, famous for Withnail & I back in 1987, doesn’t give Thompson’s characters good enough dialogue to stop this mattering. He has talked a lot about how there are only a couple of lines of the author’s actual words in the film, and that the only way for him to make it was to write it in his own style instead of Thompson’s. I fear this may be at the heart of the issue.

Johnny Depp is a terrific actor, but I must confess I was bored with the performance he delivers here. It’s very similar in style to his role as Jack Sparrow in the awful Pirates films, except that in this he has sex on camera instead of off it and wears nicer clothes.

As usual with movies about drunkards and druggies, the actors seem to be having a lot more fun than you are watching them.

In the end, it feels like you’ve spent too long listening to anecdotes from Russell Brand whilst being shown lots of pretty shots of beaches, sea and Amber Heard’s torso. Some may think this all sounds like bliss. For me, it is not a recipe for a good night out at the cinema.

The Rum Diary (2011), directed by Bruce Robinson, is distributed in the UK by Entertainment Film Distributors, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © GK Films

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 ★★★★☆

2011-11-03T16:32:00.000-07:00

The original was a masterpiece, and a bloody tough act to follow, but this really sickeningly terrifying horror sequel is almost as good.

When a man is murdered whilst taking part in a radio phone-in, Police officer Dennis Hopper convinces DJ and journalist Caroline Williams to use it as bait to catch the perpetrators. But they get to Caroline before he can catch them, and our lovely radio presenter is put through perhaps one of the most gruelling onscreen ordeals ever filmed.

The first film was truly shocking, though had surprisingly little detail in terms of blood and gore. This has more gore and special effects, but it doesn’t fail on the shock factor. Many of the stronger moments are not just nasty, but deeply upsetting. These scenes feature characters committing sadistic and virulent acts of torture, terrorisation and violence, but our sympathies stay with our brave and feisty heroine. We want her to survive, and are actively repulsed at what Leatherface and his family do to her.

The gory action leads to a devastating homage to the famous dinner table scene from Hooper’s first film, but on a grander, more colourful scale. Everything is bigger and nastier. And it works terrifyingly well.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2 (1986), directed by Tobe Hooper, is available on DVD from Twentieth Century Fox.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © MGM

In Time ★★☆☆☆

2011-11-02T16:14:00.000-07:00

In Time has an interesting premise – what if we used our time alive as our currency? – but it is let down by an awful script and awkward plotting.

Justin Timberlake is a factory worker. At the start we see him living with Olivia Wilde. They seem very relaxed with each other. Are they husband and wife? Partners? Friends with benefits, even? No, they are mother and son. Humans, for a reason never revealed, don’t age physically past 25 years. Instead, they are given one year after this to use as money (shown on digital skin-dials on their arms). Some save up the money, take it from other people, work for it or acquire it by illegal means and become super-rich. Others literally die in the street.

When a world-weary elderly rich guy donates all his time to Justin (all one-hundred years of it), our protagonist is eager to take his mother to New Greenwich where the time-rich people hang out. But she dies, and he is left to go there alone with hopes to bring them all down using his new-found time.

He befriends Vincent Kartheiser from Mad Men, here playing an arrogant banker, and his sexy daughter Amanda Seyfried. But Cillian Murphy, a Timekeeper (aka Policeman), has other ideas. He wants to know how Justin became so rich.

Of course, this is all just a set-up so Justin and Seyfried can go on the run together and become Bonnie & Clyde-style time thieves, robbing Kartheiser’s time banks and giving the much needed minutes to the poor. Alex Pettyfer is also wandering around as the movie’s irrelevant and largely ineffectual bad guy. To make sure we really know he is a villain, he threatens to rape Amanda Seyfried at one point. As usual, Pettyfer doesn’t act. He moves around and remembers the lines he’s been told to learn.

Our two leads aren’t much better, although Amanda is the more watchable presence of the pair. Timberlake’s charisma and likability is noticeably missing from this picture.

The screenplay is the real let down. Andrew Niccol wrote The Truman Show, so I was expecting something better than this. But although there is no blatant misogyny, racism or shit being blown up, it might as well have been written by Michael Bay. It’s dense, and doesn’t bother with characterisation. The structure-bankrupt plot doesn’t help things either.

Some may object to the strong left-wing messages within the story, and no doubt somebody will accuse it of being communist propaganda. To hurl such claims at it gives it more credence than it deserves.

Overall, this is a baggy, rather boring mess of empty characters and wasted ideas. The whole concept is intriguing, and at some points you are drawn into this strange, disquieting dystopia Niccol has created. But then an awful, crass line of dialogue shatters the illusion, and you remember you are watching nonsense, and paying for it with both types of money – the time kind and the actual kind.

In Time (2011), directed by Andrew Niccol, is distributed in the UK by 20th Century Fox, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Regency Enterprises

The Search for Santa Paws ★☆☆☆☆

2011-11-01T13:50:00.000-07:00

It’s hard to be a Scrooge about a film called The Search for Santa Paws, especially when there is an adorable dog on the cover. But I’m sorry to say that this straight-to-BD/DVD spin-off from the Disney Buddies series is cheap rubbish. But what else were you expecting?

For those who don’t know, the Disney Buddies series is a collection of films that feature dogs talking and children displaying little or no acting talent. The adult performers are hired to degrade themselves by acting in a very obvious, unconvincing way so very small children are not confused by any plot intricacies (and believe me, they are few and far between). This is a film for those who thought Elf was a little too cerebral for their little ones.

Santa loses his favourite dog. The dog is lost wondering round Manhattan, and because Santa has been hit by a car he mistakenly thinks he works in a toy shop. The dog befriends some helium-voiced orphans that sing at him in ways that would offend even the gutter-level expectations of this year’s X Factor judges. God knows what smug response Gary Barlow would hurl at them. To introduce a ‘race-against-time’ scenario, the dogs and orphans need to find a piece of ice/crystal that contains the spirit of Christmas (or something equally twee) in order to keep Santa from dying.

Because Disney clearly always intended this as a movie for mothers to stuff into their trolleys whilst doing a trip round ASDA, the whole thing is filmed with poor production values and uninspired lighting. It all looks very televisual and low-budget. The CGI is, surprise surprise, embarrassingly bad.

You could call this harmless Christmassy nonsense, and to some extent it is – I’m sure hundreds of young people across the globe have found delights in watching talking dogs dressed in festive clothing. But, when you think about it, there is something sad about the way highly paid Disney executives are so ready to produce such badly-made nonsense in an attempt to cash in on naive kids and parents. But that’s Hollywood for you.

Nobody is going to watch this expecting The Godfather. It’s just another piece of ~~cynical commercialism~~ Christmassy fun to go with the other thousand or so similar titles that line the shelves of HMV’s family movie section.

The Search for Santa Paws (2010), directed by Robert Vince, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Walt Disney Pictures Home Entertainment, Certificate U.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Disney.

The Ides of March ★★★★★

2011-10-29T23:30:00.000-07:00

This has been a great year for good, high quality cinema. The Ides of March is one of 2011’s best. It’s directed by George Clooney (who also takes a supporting role) and stars Ryan Gosling, the hottest – both talent-wise and looks-wise – young actor on the planet right now. It’s a twisty and compelling political thriller about the power game that goes on behind the scenes during an election campaign.

Gosling plays Stephen Meyers, the press secretary to the potential next President, governor Mike Morris (Clooney). Meyers may not be the top-dog on the campaign – that position goes to Paul (Philip Seymour Hoffman) – but he has a certain power and control that his opponents revere and envy. He knows exactly what to do, and when to do it, for the benefit of Morris’s left-wing bid to secure public confidence. But Meyer’s talents attract attention from Tom Duffy (Paul Giamatti), a rival campaign manager who is determined to get this bright young chap to work for him.

But, as we know with previous political dramas (and real life), disloyalty doesn’t sit well within a team, especially if that team sees The White House as the ultimate finishing post. Plus, a New York Times journalist (Marisa Tomei) is hovering round them like a friendly, though dangerous, locust desperate to discover the secrets that the campaign is trying to bury.

And there are other problems. Meyers is sleeping with a young intern (Even Rachael Wood) who has information that could jeopardise the integrity of the governor for good.

Integrity is the issue that is most discussed in this intelligent and complex drama. How much of it you are willing to sacrifice, in order to preserve some part of it, is the question Meyers seems to be asking himself constantly throughout the film. As he develops from hero to anti-hero, it becomes clear that in the game these people are playing, the line between right and wrong becomes blurred with the line between power and weakness.

Philip Seymour Hoffman manages to outshine everyone as experienced head campaigner Paul Zara. He is, perhaps, the performance most deserving of an Oscar. But Ryan Gosling must not be overlooked. All of his turns in his three key movies this year – Crazy, Stupid, Love, Drive and The Ides of March – have been exceptional, but this is perhaps his most likable and human performance of them all. He is a man with morals, and when those morals are damaged he becomes a dangerous weapon. It’s a thrilling development to watch.

Best of all, the script, which is adapted from Beau Willimon’s stage play Farragut North, does not outrageously seek to favour one political party or another. It doesn’t set about to undermine our faith in left-wing views, nor is it intent on narrow-mindedly demonising more conservative ideas. Instead, it makes it clear that whatever team you support, and for whatever side you play, there is no such thing as simple clean politics – not in the world we live in today. George Clooney’s film Good Night and Good Luck was guilty of a heavily manipulated political and historical view of the McCarthy witch-hunt. Thankfully, The Ides of March doesn’t go down that route. It’s a film that will probably resonate with everyone that has, at some point in their lives, felt disenchanted or disappointed with the party they voted for.

Finally, I would like to sing the praises once again of composer Alexandre Desplat. This film is one of seven scores he has written this year, and he is fast becoming the new master of the orchestral soundtrack. His pieces have a subtle, haunting quality that never quite leaves you. He was a very apt choice of composer for this film.

The Ides of March (2011), directed by George Clooney, is distributed in the UK by Entertainment One Distribution, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Sony Pictures

Contagion ★★★☆☆

2011-10-29T15:05:00.000-07:00

This bleak but interesting drama about a worldwide flu-like pandemic is the latest offering from Steven Soderbergh. I never much liked his past work – the Ocean’s films had a smug obnoxiousness about them – but this is something quite different.

The best thing about Contagion is that it tries to systematically show, from different viewpoints, how a massive pandemic would play out as it spreads across the globe. Of course, we saw something resembling this – or the start of this – when the Swine Flu illness hit the headlines in 2009. There are references to that incident, and these make the situation feel all the more plausible.

The cast is first-rate. Kate Winslet, Matt Damon, Marion Cottilard, Jennifer Ehle, Lawrence Fishburne, Jue Law and Gwyneth Paltrow are our leads, and they all fit into their roles well (apart from Law, who doesn’t convince as a conspiracy-hunting Australian blogger).

It’s an admirable film, and stays clear of the fantasy zombie-horror nonsense movies like this usually stray into. But the ultra-realistic and observationally astute scenes have a very cold and detached feel, and after a while I started to yearn for something with a little more heart, soul and sentiment. After all, these are people dying, not lifeless machines.

Contagion (2011), directed by Steven Soderbergh, is distributed by Warner Bros. Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Warner Bros.

The Help ★★★☆☆

2011-10-29T14:47:00.000-07:00

The Help is syrupy, glittery Hollywood mainstream fare. Its rather sanitised portrayal of racism in 1960s Mississippi may strike some people as patronising. Others will find it heart-warming, tear-jerking and life affirming.

I liked the film, but didn’t feel I could love it. There are times when it does feel as if the Marley & Me-style sentimental gloss is put on a little too strong for a story that deals with the civil rights movement.

Emma Stone, who plays a young white aspiring-journalist, raised (as most white children were at that time) by the family’s black maid, gives a likable and honest performance. But although she is the main character we don’t really get to know enough about her or spend much time with her.

Viola Davies plays a maid who agrees to relate her stories of abuse at the hands of her employers so Stone can become a published author and hopefully change the world while doing so. As always, Davies is superb. It’s her performance that makes this film worth parting with cash to see. Her character’s pain and anger at the way black Americans are made to live isn’t just conveyed through the script, but from the sustained sorrow and regret in her eyes. Her acting is compelling to watch, and although the film may not be of Oscar quality as a whole, her performance certainly is.

There are some amusing supporting turns from Jessica Chastain, Octavia Spencer and Bryce Dallas Howard, but most of the time all they have to do is flap their hands and shout a lot. There’s also a rather crude joke involving these three and a baked desert that way outstays its welcome.

Although it is partly responsible for the troublingly sweet feel to the whole proceedings, one can’t deny that Stephen Godlblatt’s cinematography is lush and gorgeous to look at. Thomas Newman’s sumptuous and sensitive score also helps get the tears going, particularly in the closing scenes.

Some may object to the tone. Others may feel the running time is a little generous. But it’s pointless not to acknowledge the fact that this film has made masses amounts of money for Disney, and comes from an internationally bestselling book by Kathryn Stockett.

In the case of The Help, I don’t think a manipulative advertising campaign is the reason for its popularity. It’s because people like stories where characters triumph over adversity, and stare bigotry in the face and say ‘No, this is wrong’. Good intentions are behind it, and overall it’s a generally entertaining watch.

The Help (2011), directed by Tate Taylor, is distributed by Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Disney/DreamWorks

The Awakening ★★★★☆

2011-10-29T07:26:00.000-07:00

Review of the screening at the London Film Festival 2011. The Awakening is released in cinemas on November 11.

This is a wonderfully creepy and very intelligent ghost story from first-time feature film director Nick Murphy. Backed by the BBC and French film giant StudioCanal, it’s yet another example of how exciting, vibrant and varied British filmmaking is at this moment in time.

The story is reminiscent of other similar chillers, such as The Others and The Orphanage. However, The Awakening stands as a terrific film in its own right thanks to an intelligent and inventive screenplay, and a superb central performance from Rebecca Hall.

Set in 1921, Hall plays a ghost hunter who has written books on the subject of sixth-sense trickery and fake séances. She exposes frauds so as to prove that the idea of spirits walking the earth is nothing short of fantasy.

When a school teacher (Dominic West) comes to ask for her help, she is at first doubtful that his tale of a school haunted by the ghost of a dead pupil is worth her time. But after some thought she accepts the challenge and visits the grand-house-turned-boarding-school to prove to the teachers, the matron (Imelda Staunton) and herself that the ghostly figure seen flitting about in the night is nothing but a naughty school boy.

It goes without saying that there is far more going on in this school than just childish tricks and games, and as the film moves swiftly on into the realms of gothic horror, we are treated to many jump moments that would unsettle even the more experienced terror-seekers.

Thankfully, characterisation and human emotion isn’t sacrificed for cheap scares, and the final twist in the tale is beautifully played out and more than a little heartbreaking.

Nick Murphy, who is known in the world of television for his documentaries and the mini-series Occupation, perfectly evokes an uneasy, quietly menacing tension. Recognition must also be given to Spanish cinematographer Eduard Grau for his eerie and mesmerizingly bleak vision of post-WWI Britain.

Some will pick holes in the plot, particularly the slightly hurried final revelation, but for me The Awakening is one of the year’s most interesting movies. It is both an artistic feast of talent and a heart-poundingly tense genre piece. I can’t wait to see it again.

The Awakening (2011), directed by Nick Murphy, is in UK cinemas from November 11, distributed by StudioCanal, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © BBC Films

We Need To Talk About Kevin ★★★★★

2011-10-28T19:00:00.000-07:00

Paedophobic cinema has become a fairly classic staple of the horror genre. The Omen, The Exorcist, and The Shining, have all helped cultivate, or perhaps manipulate, our very potent fear of witnessing something so innocent display traces of evil. To some extent We Need to Talk About Kevin is a horror movie. First and foremost, however, it is an observational drama that looks at the psyche of a mother, Eva (Tilda Swinton), who finds it impossible to love her son.

The novel by Lionel Shriver upon which the film is based told the story of Eva in an epistolary format, with her writing letters about the problems she is having with Kevin, their first-born child. The film takes a more fractured, less structured approach to this grim tale of abuse, distress, manipulation and violence.

We know from the start of the film a climactic event has occurred to do with Eva’s son. She is shunned and tormented by other adults in her neighbourhood, and has paint splashed on her car and house. This makes up one half of the film, and is cut between scenes of the other half; the development of Kevin from baby to toddler to teenager and Eva’s reaction to his adolescence.

Kevin as a child is unsettling. He torments his mother by refusing to be potty trained, and covers up for her when he breaks his arm after she throws him to the floor. Kevin as a teenager (Ezra Miller) is a terrifying. He disturbs his mother greatly with his strange behaviour. In one deliberately troubling scene Eva walks in on him whilst he is masturbating. But Kevin isn’t embarrassed. He continues to jerk off whilst looking at his mother straight in the eye. In other scene, after telling him they are to be going out to dinner later in the evening, Eva finds a scarily animalistic Kevin in the kitchen gnawing on a whole chicken in a deliberate attempt to upset her and ruin the evening.

When Eva tries to talk about Kevin with her husband (John C. Reily) he acts as if she is paranoid. This is all part of her son’s plan – to isolate his mother and punish her. But for what? It isn’t clear, and this is one of many unanswered questions the movie throws up. However, this heightens the messy realism of the picture. Real life isn’t always simple. It sometimes does contain problems and circumstances that are not easily explained away. It could just be that Eva has been dealt a bad hand when it came to having kids.

The power the film gathers as it hums steadily towards its now famous climax is of epic proportions. This is a picture of great, searing impact. Much of this is down to Tilda Swinton’s masterful performance. Some critics are calling this the performance of her career. They are not wrong.

Lynne Ramsay is not to be forgotten, however. Although she has only directed a few films (it’s been years since her last feature, Movern Callar), We Need to Talk About Kevin reminds us what visceral and unforgiving energy her films carry, and how the complexities of a very touchy subject can become more complex and worrying the deeper the examination goes.

If this film is a commercial success, and the buzz around its release suggest that it very well could be, I hope it will help end the myth that audiences have stopped caring about good, well-told adult stories made by exceptional filmmakers. This year has seen The King’s Speech and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy win big at the box office, and I hope We Need to Talk About Kevin does the same. The British public are not stupid. We need heavy, meaty films that we can get our teeth into and have a good long discussion about. And you really won't run out of things to say about this one.

We Need To Talk About Kevin (2011), directed by Lynne Ramsay, is distributed by Paramount Pictures and Artificial Eye, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © BBC Films

Tyrannosaur ★★★★☆

2011-10-28T04:04:00.001-07:00

Tyrannosaur is the directorial debut from Paddy Considine, the midlands actor that can usually be found chewing up the scenery in Shane Meadows movies. Here he has made a rather gruelling drama about domestic abuse.

Olivia Colman and Peter Mullan are our two leads. Colman is a middle-class charity shop worker. Mullan is a widowed thug with anger issues. They start up a rocky and not always pleasant friendship when Mullan bursts into Colman’s shop to sulk. He sits amongst the racks of second-hand clothes and makes noises of discontent. When she tries to help him, he viciously hurts her – not physically, but by astutely assessing her situation and privileged life. He sarcastically makes fun of her working in a charity shop so she can feel good about herself, and mocks her for not being able to have children.

This may not seem like the good basis for a friendship, but when we realise Colman is being serially beaten and raped by her husband Eddie Marsan, it is understandable why she may find solace and comfort in somebody equally as unpredictable and dangerous. Luckily for her, Mullan’s character does offer her safety, if not happiness. The second half of the film deceptively looks as if things may start to get more rosy and cosy for them both. This makes the final twenty-minutes all the more devastating.

It isn’t surprising that this film has done rather poorly at the box office. Its ill-judged title and depressing theme make it very apparent that this isn’t a Friday-night popcorn movie. But it is important that British filmmakers feel they can make movies about difficult subjects, and Considine handles the theme of abuse with commendable sensitivity. The tougher scenes are disturbing though never exploitative or gratuitous. Hopefully this film will help open a discussion about what a big taboo the subject of domestic violence still is in our society, and why we are ready to dismiss films that try to discuss it as just social miserabilism.

This is a brave and bold film with a big heart and a lot to say. I didn’t love it, but was glad to have seen it. Above all, it remembers to concentrate its story on the characters and not just the issues surrounding them, something even the most skilled filmmakers frequently forget to do.

Tyrannosaur (2011), directed by Paddy Considine, is distributed in the UK by StudioCanal, Certificate 18. Prospective viewers may wish to read the consumer advice on the British Board of Film Classification website before seeing the film.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © StudioCanal

Don't Be Afraid of the Dark ★★★☆☆

2011-10-26T01:26:00.000-07:00

This movie is being heralded as the new Guillermo del Toro picture. It is true, the famous Mexican director did co-write and produce this, but I find it interesting how his name has almost become a brand of gothic fairy-tale horror. Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark is actually the directorial feature debut of Canadian director Troy Nixey, and on the grounds of this work I'm really looking forward to seeing more by him in the future.

Essentially, this is a rather conventional haunted house story. It looks at the myth of the tooth fairy and how the idea of someone creeping into you room to take your teeth is actually a rather frightening thought.

The film opens with a scene of horrible and rather shocking violence. But this moment is actually rather clever, as although the scenes that follow are relatively normal and calm, the threat of such violence returning is always present.

The story centres on an architect and an interior designer who have the momentous task of doing-up an old, rather scary house. They are in love with both their work and each other. Kim, the interior designer, is eager to make a good impression on her partner's young daughter from his first marriage, Sally, who is coming to stay with them for an indefinite amount of time. She gives the little girl a talking teddy bear, although this proves to be more of a thing of horror than comfort.

Whilst exploring the house, Sally starts to hear whispering voices. "Come and play with us", “We want to be your friend”. As you can guess, the child is sufficiently freaked out by this. But being a curious little girl, Sally tries to find the source of these whisperings. The truth, when she finds it, is strange, scary and more than a little bloody.

The main problem with the film is that, once you’ve seen the scary creatures, there is very little menace left in them. This is an issue Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark shares with many other monster-movies, the most recent being J.J. Abrahms disappointing sci-fi flick Super 8.

Katie Holmes and Guy Pearce are convincing as the struggling parents who desperately try to calm Sally when she gets scared. However, it is the actress of Sally, Bailee Maddison, who is the real star of the show. She is extraordinary, and I can’t wait to see how her career progresses after this film.

It is a creepy tale, and a fun watch. It’s a shame some of the impact is lost a little too soon into the film, but the palpable chills and killer ending make up for it.

Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark (2010), directed by Troy Nixey, is distributed in the UK by StudioCanal, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Miramax

Midnight in Paris ★★★★☆

2011-10-17T09:27:00.000-07:00

Nearly every new film directed by Woody Allen is, at some point, referred to enthusiastically as ‘a return to form’. Because of this, I feel I must in some way apologise for joining this rather annoying club of optimists, but I really do think Midnight in Paris is a return to form for the director of Hanna and Her Sisters and Manhattan. True, Vicky Christina Barcelona was rather fun, but it didn’t have the polish or sophistication of this new work.

I’ve never been a fan of Owen Wilson, a guy who usually stars in sentimental nonsense (such as Marley & Me) or misogynist trash (Hall Pass). But here, in the character Gil, he gives us a warm, sympathetic and believable leading man we can root for.

The film starts with us being taken around Paris by Gil and his fiancée Inez (an incredibly sexy and wonderfully irritating Rachel McAdams). They are planning their wedding, and looking for things to buy for their new house in Malibu. Gil is a rather wealthy Hollywood screenwriter who seems disenchanted about the work he has produced. He yearns to make something more worthwhile, and finally stop churning out the crass mainstream rubbish that is frequently asked of him. It doesn’t take a genius to see the parallels between Gil and the actor playing him. He is in the process of writing a novel – a venture Inez isn’t exactly enthusiastic about. She is at her most passionate when bitching about Gil to her stuck-up conservative parents and flirting with her arrogant friend Paul (a fabulous Michael Sheen) who apparently knows everything about everything.

However, the holiday changes for Gil while walking back alone to their five-star Paris hotel at midnight. An old car draws up by him and its passengers tell him to get in. He is taken to a lavish, vibrant party and experiences things that make him suspect he is dreaming. Don’t worry; it doesn’t involve a Charlie Sheen cameo. It involves time travel. Gil has been taken back to 1920s Paris, and spends the night in the company of F Scott Fitzgerald, Cole Porter, Ernest Hemmingway and Gertrude Stein.

These visits to the past soon become a nightly occurrence. He wanders the markets, shops and luxury landmarks of Paris in the day with his increasingly naggy wife-to-be, and then at night discusses novels, his writing and nostalgia with the literary geniuses of the past. Before long, he strikes up a relationship with a mistress of Pablo Picasso, a young woman named Adriana (Marion Cotillard). She shares the bed with a number of Paris’s most famous talents and residents, but seems to have a growing affection for Gil.

If left in the hands of a director less skilled than Allen, a story such as this could easily have become kitsch, frivolous and saccharine.Thankfully, Woody makes it gripping, fun and magical. Never for a moment did I feel the need to question the far-fetched plot, or start to poke holes in the set-up. Everything flows together beautifully, and some credit for this must go to Wilson, who plays an honest, caring though frustrated artist with a sense of ease and charm he rarely gets to use in his movies.

Marian Cotillard, who since winning her Oscar seems to have become an A-list talent in Hollywood, is an endearing antidote to the shallowness of Rachel McAdams’s Inez.

The final few scenes of the film are somewhat rushed, but this is still the most likable and enchanting work Woody Allen has delivered for decades. I hope, now he has officially returned to form, we can now put that phrase away and revel in the new-found golden-age that will hopefully follow this truly magical gem.

Midnight in Paris (2011), directed by Woody Allen, is distributed in the UK by Warner Bros. Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Warner Bros.

Stake Land ★★★☆☆

2011-10-11T09:58:00.000-07:00

Director Jim Mickle's second feature effort is an inventive, apocalyptic tale that sees the bleakness of The Road mingled with the bloody horror of 28 Days Later.

It's an intriguing watch, particularly when the narrative attempts to explore how religion would play a part in the carnage and anarchy of a dying American population.

The action centres around a teenage boy (Connor Paolo, probably best known to most viewers as Eric from Gossip Girl) and his mentor (co-writet Nick Damici) as they slay vampire-zombie monsters on their way to a safer part of the continent.

The bloody vampire attacks do become routinely predictable, but the script still leaves room for some tender characterisation. There’s a particularly affecting performance from Kelly McGillis as a nun who is the victim of sexual violence from the savages who run riot across the country.

Jeff Grace's music score does jar a little, as does the abrupt ending, but this is still an admirable and interesting addition to an already crowded genre.

Stake Land (2010), directed by Jim Mickle, is available on Blu-ray and DVD, distributed by Metrodome Distribution Ltd, Certificate 15. Prospective viewers may wish to read the consumer advice from the British Board of Film Classification.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Metrodome Distribution Ltd

The Debt ★★★☆☆

2011-10-09T11:34:00.001-07:00

The Debt is an American remake of a 2007 Israeli film. It was originally intended for release some time ago, but has been on hold, most probably due to Disney's break with Miramax. It stars Helen Mirren, Tom Wilkinson and Ciaran Hinds as three ex-Mossad agents who are continually praised for their work in capturing a Nazi war criminal in the sixties. They are given medals and honoured as heroes. Mirren even has a book written about her by her daughter.

But, at the start of the film, one of our old agents, Ciaran Hinds's character, kills himself. We then flash back to the past where the three leads are young, fresh Mossad agents, ready to capture the evil Nazi doctor and make him face trial for the terrible atrocities he caused. They are now played by Jessica Chaistain, Marton Csokas and Sam Worthington, respectively.

It is this part of the film that really goes beyond just good into the realms of the superb. The chemistry between the three young agents is fascinating, and the way their relationships with each other are played out is beautifully handled. The moral questions, particularly when the capture of the Nazi doctor goes wrong, of what one should do to bring justice to such an evil enemy are rightfully explored, but never in a too heavy-handed way.

Jessica Chastain, who has a lot more to do here than she did in The Tree of Life, is wonderful. I particularly liked her performance in ITV's new adaptation of Murder on the Orient Express last Christmas, and here she really proves she is a talent worth watching. Sam Worthington also shows he can act rather well when the script requires it of him. Avatar and Clash of the Titans were hardly vehicles for acting talent, and here he proves he is not just a pretty face and really can sink into a difficult role. This film was actually made pre-Avatar, so it's interesting to see him before James Cameron lobotomised him.

When the film flashes back to Israel in 1997, so Mirren and Wilkinson can deal with secrets from the mission leaking out into public knowledge, the whole things comes very close to falling apart. This final segment, which sees Mirren's character go back undercover, feels patchy, unconvincing and the tension-control is all over the place. Lovely Helen, I’m sorry to say, did not convince me. I find it hard to say this, as I am a major Mirren fan, but at times I felt she was guilty of overacting, and the final scenes were robbed of the dramatic power they deserved.

I do think this is a film worth watching, and John Madden, who directed Shakespeare in Love, is a good filmmaker, and this is a fine, generally solid film. I just wish it could have been that little bit better.

The Debt, directed by John Madden, is distributed in the UK by Universal Pictures, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter. Image © Miramax

Drive ★★★★★

2011-09-30T16:20:00.000-07:00

Drive is a mesmerising, beautiful and incredibly violent film. It don’t think there’s been anything quite like it for a long while, although it did remind me, at times, of the works of Gaspar Noe, Quentin Tarantino, Robert Rodriquez and Stanley Kubrick. It is actually directed by Nicholas Winding Refn, the director behind the atrocious biopic Bronson. He also directed the Pusher trilogy, and, believe it or not, an episode of Agatha Christie’s Marple. But this film, which won him the Best Director award at Cannes earlier this year, may just be his masterpiece.

Drive is more Taxi Driver than Agatha Christie. It is a crime drama, a searing romance, an action movie, and a revenge thriller, all rolled into one. It’s a stupendous, audacious and at times gruelling experience. Just like in Bronson, Refn does not blink when characters start to do atrocious things to each other. The camera stays with the violence. We’ll come to this in more detail later.

Ryan Gosling, who seems to be on some kind of career high at the moment, plays a stunt car driver for film companies – a man hired to smash up the car he’s behind the wheel of and walk away without a scratch. He also works at a garage. But his third job is the most interesting. He drives cars for criminals. He will be at a venue for five minutes. He stays in the car for that five minutes, and if the crooks get in he will drive them from the scene of crime. If, however, his clock ticks beyond those five minutes, he drives away. At the start of the film, we see him slickly drive a pair of robbers for safety, deftly losing police cars and a pursuing helicopter. This is a man who will do bad stuff for money, but somehow he is strangely likable.

This is partly down to Gosling’s performance. He is incredibly sexy in the role, and when he gets to know his attractive neighbour (played by the brilliant Carrey Mulligan), there is a scene where he looks at her quietly, with a calm, steady gaze. She has his jacket in her hand, ready to pass it for him so he can go back to his flat next door. But for a while he doesn’t. They just look at each other. It’s one of the most sensual scenes in a film this year, and yet there is no sex in the movie whatsoever. We don’t even get to see Ryan with his clothes off (those who want that can pay to endure Crazy Stupid Love). It’s all about sexual tension, and this film is super-charged to the max.

Perhaps this is a troubling trait, as this is also one of 2011’s most violent movies. But anyone attempting to argue that this film sexualises or glamorises brutality is obtusely ignoring the way the film presents such scenes. All moments of blood and gore (for there are quite a few, when Ryan gets caught up in Carrey’s husband’s gangster dealings) are shocking and repulsive. Where Bronson revelled in viciousness and violence, Drive turns the tables, and makes sure we are in no doubt: what our hero (or anti-hero) does is horrible. Really horrible. Some may find some of the scenes offensive. I certainly found them hard to watch. But this is the point – they are repugnant because of their detail, rather than salacious. This is crucial, as my main criticism with Refn’s other work was that it rather enjoyed extreme nastiness too much. This film manages to make violent scenes beautiful, poetic, and horrifying. Such a feat is rarely achieved with such skill and confidence, and I applaud Refn for doing it so well this time around.

Drive is not perfect. When the drama cuts away from Gosling, and focuses on the activities of the criminals out for his blood (it’s a long story, but it all links back to a messed-up job he did for Mulligan’s convict husband) , the dialogue occasionally failed to convince me. There’s some nice characterisation from Ron Pearlman, but the script, adapted from James Sallis’s novel by Hosseini Amini, is at its best when it is focused on our leading man (who, as it happens, doesn’t really say much at all).

The parallels to Taxi Driver, as I touched on previously, are apparent, although Gosling is perhaps more of a young Marlon Brando than Robert De Niro. His charisma is astonishing. He stole the show in Crazy Stupid Love, he made depressing love story Blue Valentine a worthwhile watch, and he’s set to wow audiences again with upcoming political thriller The Ides of March. Maybe he’s doing all this to atone for The Notebook.

Drive doesn’t exactly break new ground, but it does remind film lovers what it was like when the ground broke originally. It defies convention through a mixture of themes and by the blending of styles. Refn may not be a flawless talent – it has taken time for him to find a project that suits his directorial approach – but now that he has, it was well worth the wait. Drive is classy, cool, and packs one hell of a punch. This is red-hot cinema of the highest level.

Drive (2011) directed by Nicholas Winding Refn, is distributed by Icon Film Distributors, Certificate 18. Prospective viewers may wish to read the consumer advice from the British Board of Film Classification website before seeing the film.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Icon Film Distributors

Saw III ★☆☆☆☆

2011-09-30T03:15:00.000-07:00

This is when it really got sick. This is when it became more about the torture and less about suspense. This is when it got obsessed with suffering rather than ingenious puzzles and plot twists. In other words, this is when the most successful horror franchise of all time got shit.

The first two Saw films were enjoyable because they asked their audience to imagine what they would do in terrifying, physically painful and psychologically strenuous situations. This film wants its audience to enjoy graphic, sadistic and at times sexualised torture. This is cinema at its most appalling and repugnant.

I enjoyed Saw and Saw II. The first, although shot on a shoe-string budget, was a masterclass in tension-control. The second was a twisted, almost Big Brother-esque locked-house thriller. Saw III merely delivers grisly set piece after grisly set piece, with only a wafer-thin plotline connecting them. One gets the feeling the filmmakers would much rather throw away that tiresome piece of convention call narrative, and just take their audiences on a carnage ride through depraved and vicious scenes of extreme violence.

Thankfully the acting is better here than some of the other instalments, but the script is so lazily hashed together all characterisation is reduced to lazy and unconvincing flashback scenes. We can’t really care for anyone involved.

This film is the turning point. We are supposed to stop caring about the good things in life (which is in conflict with the film’s hypocritical theme of appreciating the world we live in) and only concentrate on the gore, and how much there is of it. It is supposed to satisfy us. I don’t think I’m alone in finding this extremely troubling.

The most horrid scenes? A naked woman is dangled from the ceiling in a giant freezer while water is sprayed on her. The water freezes on her skin. The camera salaciously zooms around her naked form while she screams in pain. A man has to watch the sentimental possessions of his dead little boy burn while another man is drowned in rotting animal gore. A police officer gets her chest ripped open after having the skin on her hand burned away by acid.

The end has a tasteless and immensely audacious final scene where Jigsaw, the psychopath organising all this torture, performs a closing monologue/explanation which is intended to justify the whole thing and even give it a moral edge. Only the most gullible or simple viewers will buy this.

Fans of this sick series cling to the excuse that it is fantasy, and therefore not harmful, but by doing so they insult their own intelligence and miss the point. It isn’t about what the film contains. It’s about how it is presented, how the audience is made to feel while watching it, and in what way the film relies on viewer complicity. But there have been more since, and will doubtless be more in the future. But I try not to dwell on this sad fact too much. It depresses me greatly.

Saw III (2006), directed by Darren Lynn Bousman, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Lionsgate, Certificate 18.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Lionsgate

Crazy Stupid Love ★★☆☆☆

2011-09-26T04:16:00.000-07:00

This severely overrated romantic comedy drama is a rather boring rehash of Valentine’s Day, The Kids Are All Right and It’s Complicated, with none of the latter two’s charm or wit. It isn’t as horrendous as Valentine’s Day (not many things are), but it does have one of those all-these-different-people-connected-by-love-or-the-hunt-for-love-and-maybe-they-are-closer-connected-than-you-think type of narratives.

Steve Carrel is told by his wife of 25 years, Julianne Moore, that she wants a divorce. She has slept with one of her colleagues, Kevin Bacon, and doesn’t want to be married to boring old Steve anymore. So Steve needs help. He finds it in the form of Ryan Gosling, a gorgeous sex-god with a flawless method of picking up women. He helps Steve reinvigorate his image and bed some ladies. Meanwhile, Emma Stone, looking as unconventionally gorgeous as ever, rejects the offer of sleeping with Gosling when he hits on her at a bar. She is hoping her odd-looking lawyer boyfriend will propose to her soon. She is hoping in vein. Also, in this crazy world of interconnected love-stories, a young teenage babysitter has an even younger admirer. Embarrassing issues ensue.

The film doesn’t know if it wants to be an edgy dramedy (what a horrible word), or a schmaltzy love fest, or a sentimental moral story, or a raunchy sex comedy. So it has a haphazard go at all three, and the results are patchy, tedious and unconvincing. I could watch Julianne Moore do anything. If a film was released of just her shopping in Asda and tidying a house, I would still be transfixed. She is amazing, so I was of course never bored when she was onscreen. It’s just a shame she had such a below-par script to work with.

Steve Carrel, who I’ve never really liked, plays a pathetic, boring looser rather well, but we’ve seen him do this role before. Ryan Gosling, one of Hollywood’s fastest and most beguiling rising talents, is the real star of the show. His chemistry with Emma Stone is well-acted and touchingly portrayed, although Stone’s comedy talents are criminally wasted. There’s also an embarrassing cameo from Marisa Tomei as an alcoholic teacher, but the less said about this the better.

Crazy Stupid Love isn’t the worst of its genre. It’s just not of the quality one would expect from Moore, Gosling and Stone, although it is generally in line with most of Carrel’s output. With their previous feature, I Love You Phillip Morris, directors Glenn Ficarra and John Requa demonstrated how drama, sentiment, romance and comedy can be the ingredients for a wonderfully funny and heart-warming film. Here they show us how they can also lead to a dull, tiresome, undisciplined mess.

Crazy Stupid Love (2011), directed by Glenn Ficarra and John Requa, is distributed in the UK by Warner Bros. Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Warner Bros. Pictures

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy ★★★☆☆

2011-09-25T11:52:00.000-07:00

Earlier this month I moaned about Cary Fukanaga’s new big-screen version of Jane Eyre. I said that although I liked to see directors making interesting decisions when choosing material to work with, I was disappointed with the result. Here we have another famous work of British literature, John Le Carré’s revered literary thriller Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and another inspired choice of director, Thomas Alfredson (the Swedish filmmaker who brought us Let the Right One In). But unlike Jane Eyre, this vision of a famous novel does work, just about, and Alfredson’s directorial stamp on the finished film is both flawed and fascinating to behold.

The plot is simple enough to describe, but complex to follow. George Smiley (Gary Oldman, perhaps in a career defining performance), a retired spy for the secret service, is brought back from retirement to investigate the possibility of a mole ‘right at the very top of the circus’. His boss (a marvellous John Hurt), who is referred to only as Control, talked of his suspicions about a Russian spy working within the British service. But before he can reveal his evidence for such an accusation, he dies, making way for George to step back out of the cold and into the limelight.

The book is very detailed and takes its time. The film is very detailed and doesn’t wait around. We are pulled quickly into Le Carré’s dark tale of deception and intrigue with barely any time to get to know who it is we are meant to be suspicious of. This is, perhaps the most notable fault of the film. Bridget O’Connor and Peter Straughan’s screenplay is at times very bewildering, and jumps between scenes, time zones, plotlines and countries so quickly, confusion is never far away.

The TV adaptation of the novel, which aired on the BBC in the ‘70s, had multiple hours of time to devote to character and the teasing out of the plot. This has only two hours to play with, and sadly the story suffers because of it.

Oldman’s restrained though calculated performance is extraordinary to watch, and it’s quite likely we’ll be hearing his name read out at the announcement of the Oscar nominations early next year. The supporting cast is also marvellous. Joining John Hurt are Colin Firth, Mark Strong, Toby Jones, Tom Hardy, Benedict Cumberbatch and Kathy Burke. There are of course more, and cast lists are at your disposal to peruse on various online movie databases, but it was Mr Hardy and Ms Burke I was most impressed with. Tom Hardy frequently gets typecast as a brutish thug, but here he delivers his most intelligently pitched and sensitively handled performance of his career. Kathy Burke, who used to degrade herself as part of the tragically unfunny, but depressingly popular, comedy double-act Kevin & Perry (she was Perry to Harry Enfield’s Kevin), is a revelation. She has always been marvellous in her serious acting roles, but here she is especially memorable in her brief turn as a retired secret service bureaucrat.

The most disappointing thing about the film is its consistent refusal to let characters and situations breathe. Of course, this takes us back to the issues with the jumpy script and rushed plot, but for me the real charm of Alfredson’s Let the Right One In was his eagerness to let settings and scenes speak for themselves. Here, everything happens so quickly the director’s greatest asset fails to fully materialise. But everything still looks achingly, bleakly beautiful, emphasising the cold, grim political climate of the time.

Although I didn’t feel the film was the thundering success some reviewers have claimed it to be, it is still an interesting and deeply intriguing experience. And it takes more than one watching. This is the see-it-twice-film of the year, though sadly not for the reasons I was hoping for.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011), directed by Thomas Alfredson, is distributed in the UK by STUDIOCANAL, Certificate 15.

© 2011 Barnaby Walter for TheEdgeSUSU.co.uk and The WALTERMEDIA Film Blog. Image © STUDIOCANAL

Jane Eyre ★★☆☆☆

2011-09-12T03:50:00.000-07:00

There have now been around twenty-seven adaptations of Jane Eyre. Many writers and directors have tried to capture the furious passion and heartfelt emotion of Charlotte Brontë’s much-adored novel. Sin Nombre director Gary Fukunaga at first seemed like an inspired choice for this dark love story, but sadly the resulting picture lacks such radical inspiration. It is not an all-round failure, but for the most part it is dull, dreary and dreadfully underwritten.

Moira Buffini, who wrote the screenplay for last year’s Tamara Drewe, takes a hatchet to the structure of the novel (a highly important feature, if you ask me), opting to tell it in a series of flashbacks. The overall effect is more reminiscent of Damages rather than Brontë.

Mia Wasikowska was dire in Alice in Wonderland, and here she sets about murdering another famous staple of British literature. Her performance as the innocent orphan sent to Thornfield Hall to work as a governess is one-dimensional and bland. The scene where Mr Rochester, the imposing master of Thornfield, confesses his love for Jane highlights her woefully limited acting talent, as she fails to capture any of the churning, fervent drive of Brontë’s dialogue. It sounds as if she’s auditioning for a school play.

Michael Fassbender as Mr Rochester is excellent, although the complexity of his performance is restricted by the all-too-restrained script. The drama does move a little quicker when he is onscreen, but this is at the expense of believable characterisation.

Judi Dench crops up a few times to remind us what it feels like to watch a great actress at work. She plays the housekeeper Mrs Fairfax, and adds more depth to her small supporting part than any of the other actors manage with the leading roles, and it is through her the few glimmers of humour in the screenplay are allowed to shine. Jamie Bell, as St. John Rivers, the kindly clergyman who offers Jane shelter and food in a time of desperate need, is also offers an intelligent and subtle performance.

In terms of atmosphere, the film is brilliant. Adriano Goldman’s cinematography is masterful, and brilliantly brings to life Bronte’s descriptive prose. The English countryside hasn’t looked this foreboding since David Lean’s 1946 adaptation of Great Expectations. The sense of dark secrets and repressed desire is wonderfully tangible, or at least it is until the characters open their mouths. Dario Marianelli – a composer well experienced in literary adaptations, having scored Pride & Prejudice and Atonement – also offers a lush contribution. His music draws on the pain and heartache of the character of Jane; something Wasikowska fails to do in her simplistic performance.

Of course, film and television versions of famous books are allowed to be stories in their own right, but his film doesn’t even manage that. I suspect those who haven’t read the novel before seeing this adaptation will either be bored or confused. The non-linear structure gives the film a very patchy and uncertain feel.

Fukunaga’s fractured and rather arty vision of this classic love story doesn’t work. I wish it did, as I like to see filmmakers trying their hands at new and varied works. But I was left unimpressed and disappointed. If you want a definitive screen version, I would recommend the 2006 TV series. The BBC may have backed this cinema feature, but in my opinion they created their masterpiece five years ago. Get the boxset and revel in the all-consuming, forceful passion of Ruth Wilson’s BAFTA nominated performance as Brontë’s heroine. Savour the beautiful screenplay by the wonderful Susanna White. Then watch this film, and see how it compares. For me, it doesn’t even come close.

Jane Eyre (2011), directed by Cary Fukunaga, is distributed by Universal Pictures UK, Certificate PG.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Focus Features

The Skin I Live In ★★★☆☆

2011-09-03T11:18:00.000-07:00

Predro Almodóvar takes a slight departure from style with this horror-thriller. It isn’t as awash with bright primary colour as his films usually are. But some of his typical traits still survive, such as his undying interest in human sexuality and gender.

The Skin I Live In marks the return of Antonio Banderas to the work of Almodóvar after a long break. It’s nice to see him acting in something again that doesn’t involve a fairytale castle and a CGI cat. He plays Robert Ledgard, a plastic surgeon living in his own remote private residential clinic. He has a woman named Vera locked in a large bedroom. We see him experimenting on her skin. When she’s not on an operating table, she is in her room in a tight-fitting body suit reading the works of Alice Munroe.

In the first half of the film we see Ledgard announce a medical breakthrough: an artificially developed human skin that will protect its wearer from burns and bites. His research is condemned as unethical, but he is hardly surprised. The passion he has for his project is clearly not going to die overnight.

Midway through the film goes into flashback mode, and we learn just how unethical Ledgard’s practices and experiments are. The devastating, outrageous and disturbing twist in the story is brilliantly revealed, and the overall result is an intoxicating mix of Georges Franju, Terence Fisher and Eli Roth. This film does owe a debt to the torture-porn movies of recent years, and there are points that echo (albeit less sophisticated) scenes from Hostel. One could even see parallels with The Human Centipede, although these are probably not intentional.

I was also reminded of Pascal Laugier’s 2008 shocker Martyrs, a work of similar beauty and meticulous design, although much stronger in terms of bloody horror. The terrors found during The Skin I Live In rely more on suggestion than graphic detail.

It is an intriguing work, but sadly not a wholly successful one. The pace is at times punishingly slow, and the only things that interrupt the duller parts are scenes of either rape or illegal surgery. The much talked about big twist picks up the pace, although it doesn’t quite reward us enough for the less-than-compelling build up.

Almodóvar fans (myself included) may have fun picking out the subtle, and at times not so subtle, references to his own work. Others, however, may find it a hard film to sit through due to the repulsive nature of the material or the lack of truly sympathetic characters. As usual, Almodóvar asks us to pity and even empathise with disreputable types of people, but sadly here it doesn’t feel as thrilling and interesting as it did in Bad Education and Kika.

It’s great to see an established maestro trying his hand at more genre-based cinema, but it comes at a cost. Those who cherish the garish flamboyance of his lighter works may well be disappointed with this sinister offering, and those who enjoy films at the darker end of the spectrum may be find it too lacking in gore. It’s an odd piece of work, and it requires multiple viewings for a full appreciation of its merits and floors. But of course, that’s if you have the patience. My bet is that many, unfortunately, will find better things to be doing and better films to be watching.

The Skin I Live In (2011), directed by Pedro Almodóvar, is distributed by Twentieth Century Fox and Pathé, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © 20th Century Fox

The Resident ★★☆☆☆

2011-09-02T08:53:00.000-07:00

It’s hard to see whether this inept and boring thriller is an affectionate throwback to old damsel-in-distress pictures of long ago, or just yet another conventional, cruelly exploitative piece of Hollywood trash.

Actually, although set in Brooklyn, The Resident happens to be a British film made by the newly rebooted horror studio Hammer. Although it’s worth remembering that many of the movies that studio made were far from high quality products, it’s a shame to see them now producing cynical, lazy rubbish such as this.

Hilary Swank plays an ER doctor who starts renting a creepy new apartment. She spends a lot of time either in the bath, unclothed, walking around in her underwear, rubbing herself with towels or massaging her body. If your take the ‘s’ off her last name, you’ll have a general idea of what will be on the minds of many teenage boys while they watch this film.

Inevitably, really bad freaky shit starts to come her way. This is because Hilary rejects the advances of her rough-and-ready, though very sensitive, landlord Jeffrey Dean Morgan (an actor who is yet to star in a movie that goes beyond mediocre).

Chrisopher Lee, that old Hammer hero, here coming back to the studio after a 30 year break, is a wasted talent. He appears in three or four 40-second length cameos as the landlord’s elderly grandfather. If one was to judge the film by its cover/poster you’d think he had a substantial supporting role in the film. He does nothing.

Voyeurs and sadists may have a good time, particularly when the rape and nail-gun scenes are rolled out in all their nasty glory, but those who appreciate good story-telling and satisfying conclusions will be left feeling deeply unrewarded. Technically it’s very well handled. The lighting is good, the cinematography is rich but spooky, and John Ottman’s score is suitably atmospheric. But narratively speaking, this is bankrupt of anything to get enthusiastic about.

The Resident (2011), directed by Antti Jokinen, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Icon Home Entertainment, Certificate 15.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Hammer Films

A Nightmare on Elm Street ★★★★☆

2011-09-01T11:12:00.000-07:00

Wes Craven’s iconic classic, A Nightmare on Elm Street, has been parodied, remade, continued and retreaded so much, the spirit of the first film is hard to remember. Horror-expert Kim Newman, writing in his huge book Nightmare Movies (buy it – you have to), holds up Nightmare as the film ‘responsible for the resurrection of the just-petered-out psycho trend’. Indeed, it does have a horrific, psychotic killer at the centre of it – the terrifying Freddy Kruger. And this psychotic murderer bridges the gap between fantasy and reality, perhaps in a similar way to Norman Bates’s blurring of male and female sexuality in Hitchcock’s classic Psycho. Kruger defies the rules of the real world, and slips in and out of teenager’s dreams.

These days, for better or for worse, nightmares are probably the last things going through a teen’s head as they sleep their youth away. Night time thoughts of a metal-nailed, twisted old man scratching them to death are probably very low down the list on the dream Richter scale, far behind sleep-fantasies about an upcoming trip to Magaluf, the chance of appearing on The X Factor and what it would be like to sleep with Brad Pitt/Beyonce/both at the same time (delete as applicable). Bad dreams are no longer as high on the agenda as they once were. A revisit to the 80s world of the original A Nightmare on Elm Street reminds us of their importance in ways the shallow Michael Bay-produced remake will never manage to do.

The plot of Nightmare is simple – the fear it generates is less so. To avoid being slashed to death by Freddy Kruger – a scarred and deadly suspected criminal, back from the grave – you have to stay awake. He haunts the dreams of high school kids, and slaughters them while they rest.

The mad thrill one gets when witnessing Nightmare for the first time is heightened by the feeling of doing something slightly sleazy; perhaps even wrong. Enjoying all this blood and terror surely isn’t good for you? And isn’t Wes Craven the horror equivalent of fast food? I’d give a resounding no on both counts. Although it delights in threat, the film is surprisingly moralistic, and its genius lies within its brilliant concept: something as natural as sleep could lead to your horrific death.

The fear is brought about by the inevitability of sleep – something the characters (a fairly bland but likable bunch) have to naturally do, as does the viewer sometime after watching the film. It’s something so simple, yet so brilliantly scary, it puts lazy torture-porn exploits such as Hostel: Part II and the later Saw sequels to shame. Nightmare has blood, but that’s just the icing on the cake.

We mustn’t get carried away. A Nightmare on Elm Street isn’t a masterpiece when held up to films such as Casablanca, Some like It Hot and Citizen Kane. But it does bring to life all the things that are fun about mainstream horror nonsense that has the guts to be brave, bold and inherently ridiculous. Plus it features a young Johnny Depp with a weird haircut, and that’s always worth seeing.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), directed by Wes Craven, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Warner Bros. Pictures, Certificate 18.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © New Line Cinema

One Day ★★★☆☆

2011-08-31T11:14:00.000-07:00

I was an enormous fan of Loan Scherfig’s 2009 picture An Education. It captured a spirit of charming optimism that is rarely seen in British films these days. Her big-screen adaptation of David Nicholl’s bestselling novel One Day does have a certain degree of charming optimism, but sadly it is far from the masterpiece-standard reached with her previous film.

Some have compared it to The Notebook, although One Day is far more socially astute and dramatically believable than that sentimental cry-fest.

Anne Hathaway plays a Yorkshire-born aspiring writer named Emma. Jim Sturges plays a posh, handsome young guy named Dexter. They are from different backgrounds, and have different ideas about what life has to offer them, but after they graduate from Edinburgh University they have a fumbling, drunken close encounter in Emma’s bedroom. But in the end they decide to become friends, and meet up or get in contact on the same day each year – 15th July. The film then follows them through their lives on this day, hovering over momentous, emotional and sometimes catastrophic moments in their relationships and chosen careers.

Emma starts of as a waitress in a seedy cafe, then ends up bedding an obnoxious wannabe stand-up comedian (a wonderful Rafe Spall). She stays with him, thought she’s not sure why. Dexter ends up presenting trash-TV. When his mother (Patricia Clarkson) starts to die from cancer, he visits his family home with a crashing hangover, appalling his parents. There’s a heartbreaking moment when him mum tells him she worries he isn’t a very nice person any more.

All through these experiences and troubles of the heart, we can’t help feeling Emma and Dexter are meant to be together. They both have their separate sex-lives. Emma finds it hard to shake off her unfunny comedian, and Dexter gets involved with a humourless posh girl (Romola Garai). He even has a daughter with her. But this is a movie about destiny, and it isn’t giving too much away (the posters and trailer tell you as much) to say that their true destiny is only found by being together as a loving couple.

It’s a shame it doesn’t all work. The style of the film doesn’t fit the structure. It’s too fluid, and seamlessly passes from one year to the next with only a date floating around on the side of the screen to show us time has passed. It’s enough to let us know where we are and what we are doing, but it doesn’t give the impression of rummaging through twenty years of memories. It feels too automatic and false.

There has been much Hathaway-bashing from critics surrounding the film’s release, but she really isn’t that bad. It is true her Yorkshire accent sometimes wanders into standard English, but to be fair, her character is supposed to have lived in London for years, so it strikes me only natural that her accent would develop across time.

Jim Sturges is utterly superb, and is the real star of the film. I’ve never been very impressed with him in the past. His casino movie with Kevin Spacey, 21, was dire, but here he manages to make the character of Dexter both obnoxious and immensely likeable.

The ending (which I shall not reveal) irritated me, but its heart is in the right place.

I don’t think it’s the film fans of the novel were hoping for, and it isn’t as good as the last Nicholls adap, Starter for Ten, but there is a lot of good stuff to enjoy here. For those who want to laugh, cry and feel mildly uplifted about life and the power of love, then it should just about do the trick.

One Day (2011), directed by Loan Scherfig, is distributed by Universal Pictures UK, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Focus Features

Cowboys & Aliens ★★★☆☆

2011-08-31T11:12:00.000-07:00

With an unashamedly ridiculous and provocative title, it’s surprising how tough and conventional this competent blockbuster is. There’s relatively little humour, considering director Jon Favreau is no stranger to comedy. It has a strict ‘beginning, middle and end’ structure, and there is of course a brooding attractive hero, a sexy lass and a collection of mildly interesting supporting characters. Oh, and Harrison Ford, who grumbles a lot about nothing in particular.

Our hero is Daniel Craig, who at the start of the picture wakes up having lost his memory. Although it is the late 1800s, he has a strange electrical-looking metal bracelet on his wrist which he can’t get off. He stumbles across a town named Absolution (WTF?) and assaults Harrison Ford’s obnoxious son. He is arrested (for he is a wanted criminal, apparently) and thrown in prison with the aforementioned obnoxious son (terrifically played by Paul Dano). Ford rides into town to free his boy and cause a stir. He’s a bit pissed off, but this becomes rather irrelevant when Aliens fly over the sky and start snatching people from the ground.

While all this is going on, Daniel Craig gets eyed up repeatedly by Olivia Wilde, who seems to own shares in the same stock of time-travelling TRESemmé hair conditioner as Amanda Seyfried did in Red Riding Hood. However, we get the feeling her interest in Craig isn’t just because she wants to shag James Bond. No, something else is going on here, and it concerns his shady past.

Once all the set-up is out of the way, the Cowboys and the Aliens just go to war (although the war is more local, rather than global). The people of Absolution want their abducted citizens back. The Aliens want to experiment on them. They fight.

It isn’t very subtle, nor is it terribly well scripted, but the cumulative effect of watching the whole weird spectacle is rather satisfying. Craig’s acting is always enjoyable, and although Harrison Ford offers nothing we haven’t seen him do before, it’s hard not to like him in anything.

I was rather appalled at the level of violence in the film, considering this has been issued a 12A rating. There’s a lot of emphasis on blood, pain and injury, although the matter of certification is the fault of the BBFC and not the filmmakers.

There’s also a subplot where Ford teaches a young boy how to be a man. He does this by giving the boy a knife and introducing him to extreme violence. The boy successfully ‘becomes a man’ when he is forced to brutally, and gorily, kill one of the Aliens. I know this is set back in the day when ‘men were men’ (in other words, violent, sexist and brutish), but I found the emphasis put upon this story-thread rather distasteful.

In terms of technical achievement, I must say I was very impressed. Those who like the Transformers films try to excuse their misogyny and racism by arguing they are works of GCI genius. I found the battles and action scenes in Cowboys & Aliens far more impressive than anything Michael Bay’s ever offered up, and the final climactic scenes are magnificently done.

You can tell the idea of marrying two of Hollywood’s most profitable staples together has been a popular one industry-wise. There are so many producer and writer credits on the opening titles, it’s clear anybody who is anybody wants a piece of the Cowboy and Alien cake. Spielberg is there, as is Ron Howard and Brian Grazer. The amount of studios involved is also staggering: Paramount, DreamWorks, Universal, Disney, Imagine, Reliance, Relativity. There are more, but I fear I’d run out of space if I listed them all.

Now we’ve had Cowboys & Aliens, it makes you wonder what bizarre pairings Hollywood has waiting in the wings. Dinosaurs & Pixies? Wasps & Librarians? Penguins & Perverts? I’m loving the sound of that last one.

Cowboys & Aliens (2011), directed by Jon Favreau, is distributed by Universal Pictures UK, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Paramount Pictures

Submarine ★★☆☆☆

2011-08-21T06:04:00.000-07:00

Richard Ayoade's debut isn't all that wonderful...

Submarine is the much-discussed, über cool/alternative movie of 2011. Each year has one. Little Miss Sunshine, Juno, Scott Pilgrim Vs the World...the list is endless. This time, it’s a British film that’s joining that collection. Submarine is directed by first-timer Richard Ayoade (famous for sitcoms on TV such as The IT Crowd), and adapted from Joe Dunthorne’s novel of the same name.

It’s a curious film, made up of strange little moments and sketches, told from the point of view of a 15-year-old Swansea boy named Oliver (Craig Roberts). His sexual awakening forms the basis of the movie, and we see him strike up a relationship with an unlikable girl with a strange haircut and a red coat. There’s also a subplot involving his parents’ (Sally Hawkins and Noah Taylor ) awkward relationship, and the possibility of them divorcing.

Although I’m sure its kookiness earned it extra fans, the weird and deliberately bizarre style Ayoade uses to convey what’s going on in the protagonist’s head gets in the way of any real emotion or depth to the picture. There are some lovely moments (particularly the short scene where Oliver imagines his mother packing to leave the family for good, with her husband good-naturedly helping her put belongings into a suitcase), but these are lots amongst the film’s incessant effort to be stylistically different.

One of the nicest things about it is its affectionate and at times unsettling portrayal of 1980s school life, when the joys of childhood involved spending time outside rather than in one’s bedroom on Facebook.

Submarine isn’t a great film, but it isn’t a particularly bad one either. Overall, it feels like a warm-up for whatever great things Ayoade may turn out in the future, once he’s calmed down a bit.

Submarine, directed by Richard Ayoade, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from StudioCanal UK, Certificate 15.

Super 8 ★★★☆☆

2011-08-10T09:18:00.000-07:00

With Super 8, J.J. Abrams has attempted to recapture the magic of cinema using a brand of large-scale awesomeness associated with films such as E.T.: the Extra Terrestrial, Jurassic Park and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. As you can probably tell from this list, there is a heavy association with Spielberg-helmed cinema going on here, and it is true that much of Super 8’s marketing has relied heavily on this link. He is billed, in large letters on the poster, as a producer.

In some ways, this categorising of the film into the Spielberg stable is sensible and unavoidable. It is set in a small American town – the kind you don’t often see in films these days – in 1979, and focuses on how its inhabitants, mainly a group of kids, respond to an escalating situation of extraordinary and other-worldly proportions. The main hero of the film, a 12-year-old named Joe (Joel Courtney), is reminiscent of Elliot in E.T., and there is more than just a nod to the events depicted in Close Encounters.

Joe has recently lost his mother in an accident, and although his father is kind and caring his job as deputy sheriff keeps him out of the house most of the time. Luckily, Joe has discovered a hobby to distract himself with: movie-making. His friend Charles (Riley Griffiths) is an aspiring director, and has enlisted Joes help as make-up artist on his current zombie movie project.

Three other loud, enthusiastic boys are also involved in the shooting of the film – one as a leading actor, one an extra, and another in charge or pyrotechnics. Charles is keen to have a female presence in his film, so asks local beauty Alice (Elle Fanning) if she would take part. She accepts the offer, and in a short rehearsal scene, late one night at a deserted railway station, she stuns them all with her acting talent. However, shortly after this the gang have other problems to deal with. A passing train collides with a car, causing massive explosions and carnage. One of their school teachers was driving the car which caused the crash, and it appears he drove onto the tracks deliberately. He tells them to say nothing about the crash to their parents or friends, or their lives will be at risk. After this, the military turn up and the kids flee the scene.

Over the following days, mysterious things occur in their town. Dogs run away from home and turn up in neighbouring areas, microwaves are stolen, car engines go missing, and there is an increased military presence, although nobody is told what is going on.

Of course, the reason for all of this is fantastical and enjoyably far-fetched, and in the first two thirds of the film there is a tangible sense of the unknown descending on this quiet town. Our gang of movie-makers try to work it out what’s happening, and their childish innocence both empowers them and, inevitably, puts them in serious peril.

Super 8 has captured the hearts of many critics, but sadly I must report I found it a bit of a disappointment. J.J. Abrams skilfully captures an atmosphere of awe and wonder (a trait missing from many blockbusters these days), but to my regretful dismay the last act of the picture is a hurried and jumbled mess of running around and shouting. The dedicated attention paid to the emotional side of the story is not lost at the end (in fact the closing moments are very moving), but it is hampered by the unkempt and overall unruly nature of the finale. When we learn details of the threat the community is at the mercy of, the explanation lacks power and comes over as an unoriginal rip-off from other Sci-fi movies rather than a loving homage to them.

It may enchant you, and if it does, I hope you have a marvellous time. I know people who have loved Super 8, and many reviews claim it deserves to take its place among some of the greats I have already cited. But I have to be honest, it didn’t wow into thinking it was anything more than a fun, but flawed, genre piece. It reminded me of the films that did this kind of thing all those years ago, and how they did it so much better.

Super 8 (2011), directed by J.J. Abrams, is distributed in the UK by Paramount Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Paramount.

The Piano Teacher ★★★★★

2011-08-08T11:38:00.000-07:00

Haneke's The Piano Teacher may be a tough watch, but it is a magnificent examination of our darker desires.

Michael Haneke has long been viewed as a manipulative filmmaker; a director who channels his audience’s unease and betrays their trust. He assaults the viewer’s sense of decency and makes them question the definitions of right and wrong. The Piano Teacher is perhaps one of Haneke’s toughest films to watch, dwelling on the darker aspects of human nature, and the things some people will do to achieve sexual satisfaction. I am talking about sadomasochistic sexual activity and voyeurism.

The sexual masochist in this film is a piano teacher and a professor at a music school in Vienna. Her name is Erika, and she enjoys feeling pain. In one scene she mutilates her genitals with a razorblade while sitting on the edge of a bath. We see the blood run down the sides of the tub as she slides the razor into herself. It’s a horrible scene, one that came almost eight years before Lars von Trier directed Charlotte Gainsbourg to do similar damage with a pair of rusty scissors in Antichrist. However, in this moment we are forced to confront our feelings about this woman. Are we repulsed by her? Do we pity her for what her sexual compulsions make her do? Are we angry at being made to watch such aberrant behaviour? It goes without saying that Haneke doesn’t give any easy answers to these difficult questions.

Even if one sets her secret desires to one side, Erika is still far from what most viewers would class as normal. She is nearing forty, but shares a flat with her mother who nags and moans at her when she returns home late. She may have reached a level of eminence in her profession, but Erika is consistently cruel to her pupils. At one point she puts pieces of broken glass in the pocket of a young pianist’s coat. This disfigures one of the girl’s hands, and we get the sense Erika has derived great pleasure from this bloody result. The scene itself, were the young girl cuts her hand on the shards of glass is a masterpiece in unsettling human horror, and its most disturbing aspect comes from its surprising and sadistic sense of humour.

The main crux of the film is a relationship Erika strikes up with an attractive young man named Walter. He finds her alluring, so starts to take lessons with her. While teaching him Erika is cold and nasty towards him, but he can’t help finding her attractive. He attempts to seduce her, but when they do finally get physical it is on the condition he abides by her rules. On their first sexual encounter, in a public restroom, she pleasures his orally, though stops before he reaches orgasm. She makes him hold his hands away from his crotch and walks to the other end of the room, watching him hold himself back from masturbating himself to orgasm. She gets pleasure from limiting his pleasure. In response to this bizarre and intense event, she writes him a letter detailing what she wants him to do to her. He is outraged by her demands.

The film catalogues many types of sexual activity that even its more liberal viewers may deem revolting, morally repugnant and obscene. There is even a moment of real sex, when we see Erika indulge her voyeuristic tendencies by watching extreme pornography.

The script, written by Haneke, adapted from a novel by Nobel Prize-winner Elfriede Jelinek, doesn’t always ask us to sympathise witch Erika, but it does make us face the fact that even the most respectable and intelligent people in our society can harbour dark desires. The most disquieting part of this process of recognition we, as an audience, go through is the question that we have all asked from time to time: does this type of film encourage such behaviour? Erika’s activities are certainly not glamorised, but by watching this film could some viewers start to experience desires they never knew they had? Of course, such discussions inevitably lead to the subject of censorship, and whether or not films such as this should be made, receive funding, and be allowed exhibition.

Whatever your feelings are about such issues, The Piano Teacher is an unforgettable experience. It may seriously disturb you. It’s likely to upset you. But it is a compelling and significant example of the power of cinema; an art form which refuses to conform and consistently seeks to challenge. Haneke may not be a director that suits all tastes, but he should certainly not be underestimated.

The Piano Teacher (2001) is available on DVD from Artificial Eye, Certificate 18. Prospective viewers are warned that this film, as discussed in the review, contains graphic scenes that some may find upsetting.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © MK2 Productions

Captain America: The First Avenger ★★★★☆

2011-08-06T07:09:00.000-07:00

Captain America: The First Avenger is a lovingly crafted period piece, a thrilling war movie, and a satisfyingly entertaining lead-up to the big Avengers blockbuster planned for next year.

Chris Pine plays Steve Rogers, a thin, weedy looking American WWII soldier desperate to take part in the big battles against Hitler and do his bit for his country. But due to his long list of medical conditions and small physique, he always fails at the medical exam. But everything changes when a German doctor (Stanley Tucci) chooses him to take part in a complex experiment, in collaboration with the US government, the military and mechanical genius Howard Stark (Dominic Cooper). In short, this operation turns the mouse into a man. The CGI trickery which made Pine look small are dropped, and out of the lab comes a big, buffed-up version of Steve Rogers – the guy that is set to become Captain America.

The most delightful thing about the screenplay, written by Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, the team behind the Narnia films, is its ability to have a good laugh without losing control of the seriousness of the plot. A lot of the laughs come from Army boss Tommy Lee Jones (who at some points seems to be parodying himself) and British actress Hayley Atwell, who is simply sparkling as Roger’s love interest.

As with all superhero movies (well, all movies full stop really) there are some down sides. The plot isn’t as tightly structured as one would hope. There are also some rather disconcerting montages, where large periods of time flash past a little too quickly. The villain, because all comic book movies must have a fantastical villain, comes in the form of a red-skulled Hugo Weaving, who of course has world domination on his agenda. He believes Hitler is too weak, so disposes of him and sets about (with the help of his scientist Toby Jones) blowing things and get angry. He isn’t a very threatening presence, and a lack of menace throughout the picture is probably the film’s greatest weakness.

Generally, however, this is a jolly fun ride, and a reminder of how good multiplex-pleasers can be of high quality. And in a summer that’s given us Transformers 3, this is just what we need to get our spirits up.

Captain America: The First Avenger, directed by Joe Johnston, is distributed in the UK by Paramount Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Paramount

The Tree of Life ★★☆☆☆

2011-08-01T07:49:00.000-07:00

Many are proclaiming this piece of arthouse-turned-mainstream cinematic fare as a masterpiece. This is understandable, as it has Big Important Spiritual things to say about Family, Love, Life and God. On the other side of the fence, those who don’t understand what reclusive director Terrance Malick is trying to say, or would rather not listen to him to try to say it, are quick to sneer at this picture, and label it pretentious claptrap for posh bores.

Although my thoughts towards Malick’s sixth directorial effort (if you count his 1969 short Lanton Mills) veer more towards the cynical than the evangelical, I have to admit there are certain parts of this lamentation on family and belonging that are staggering to behold. The main body of the picture is made up of segments depicting the O’Brien household in 1950s Waco, Texas. One child in this family will grow up to be a city worker (played by Sean Penn, who barely utters a word in the entire film). Another of the children will die tragically, although the details surrounding his death are kept from us – we only get to see clips of his mother (Jessica Chastain) and father (Brad Pitt) wandering round their calm neighbourhood in a sad way.

The style of cinematography used to capture the family while they are going about their lives – squabbling, playing, running around the garden, touching trees and grass (there’s a lot of that, and it becomes very irritating) – is magnificent. Even if you don’t rate the film as a whole (I certainly do not), to see The Tree of Life in the dark auditorium of the cinema is a chance to enjoy the fabulous work of Emmanuel Lubezki, a cinematographer at the height of his career.

Perhaps the most interesting side of the film’s story (if it has one, which is debatable) is its rather heavy-handed biblical connotations. With all the subtlety of a Vicar bashing an unruly altar boy with a hymn book, Malick uses the O’Brien family to make comments on Christianity and the troubles it may pose when it is present, and the inevitable negative repercussions that arise when it is absent. The head of the family (a very believable performance by Pitt) is the type of parent who controls his children through fear. Of course, this links in with the Church controlling people through fear of hell, although Malick isn’t really interested in a rigorous critical attack on Christianity (that would be far too conventional). He’s more interested in Jessica Chastain chasing butterflies.

Audiences are now so used to anti-religious pictures, the chance to see an openly religious film may seem a little bit daunting. It’s a shame that this sense of apprehension is likely to be proved correct, as The Tree of Life’s view of faith, although unsubtle, is far from accessible or ultimately rewarding. There has been much debate about the meaning of the now famous (or infamous?) sequence near the start of the picture which depicts the dawn of time, the dinosaurs, meteors and things of that nature. Many will derive pleasure from hating and criticising this extended sequence. I just found it rather tiresome, although I was impressed by the range of beautiful classical music played throughout the more abstract moments.

With films like this, the whole project is a cinematic throw of the dice. Where they land will be up to audiences, critics and, to some extent, luck. Sometimes it works. I really liked Darren Aronofsky’s film The Fountain which, coincidently, was also set to star Brad Pitt before Hugh Jackman stepped into the leading role. But quite often the intentions of those involved (however honourable those intentions may be) fail and flounder. It would be wrong and lazy to dismiss The Tree of Life as an awful film. There is too much commendable talent on display to justify such a statement. But, in my opinion (and this really is a film that depends on opinions) this is a curious but unlikable specimen; annoying, overinflated and flawed cinematic poetry that some will feel confident in praising, whilst others delightfully rip it to shreds and stamp on its celluloid DNA. For me, it isn’t as clear cut as that.

The Tree of Life, directed by Terrence Malick, is distributed by Twentieth Century Fox, Certificate 12A.

Review © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Twentieth Century Fox

Alice ★★★★☆

2011-07-22T07:48:00.000-07:00

Surrealist artist Jan Svankmajer may not have the mainstream gothic appeal of Tim Burton, but his version of Lewis Carol’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is in my opinion infinitely superior to the latter’s muddled 2010 version. Released this year for the first time on Blu-ray by the BFI (in a thoroughly gorgeous high definition transfer), Svankmajer’s loose 1988 reworking of the classic tale is simply titled Alice.

The dropping of the word ‘Wonderland’ from the name is appropriate, as the mysterious world around our young innocent heroine bears closer resemblance to a house than another world. In the film’s country of origin, Czechoslovakia, it was released under the name Něco z Alenky, which in translation means ‘Something From Alice’. This is perhaps an even more apt name for the film, as it harks back to the much plundered – and generally accepted – suggestion that the strange creatures and ordeals Alice witnesses are products of her subconscious. Never before or since, however, has this link been so potently portrayed onscreen, and the results are, at times, truly unnerving.

The most unsettling scenes come from a dedicated use of stop-motion animation. Quite often, it’s little things that make the most effective subjects for this time-consuming brand of filmmaking. Leaves rustle into piles, sawdust pours from the torso of the white rabbit (oh yes, he’s still here – but more sinister than you’ve seen him before), and the general impression is of things shifting and moving eerily of their own accord. It makes for both uncomfortable and wondrous viewing.

One could argue that children are likely to find the tone of the film too dark, while adults may be bored by the childish subject matter. But I’d urge younger viewers to give this film a chance. It is scary at times, but children sometimes like to be scared. And to be slightly afraid at the hands of Svankmajer is a far richer experience than being utterly baffled by Burton.

Alice (1988), directed by Jan Svankmajer, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from the BFI, Certificate PG.

Text © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © BFI.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

2011-07-20T16:23:00.000-07:00

★★★★★

After seven books, eight films, a theme park and loads of plastic toys, the Harry Potter franchise has made billions for Warner Brothers and a certain Ms Joanne Rowling. But to look at the pound signs and the immense amount of zeros on its creator’s bank balance is to miss the point. Harry Potter is a series that has connected parents with their children and those children with some of the most believable and enduring characters English literature has ever known.

This final film, the second half of the last book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, is the best film of the series by far – maybe even (and believe me, I don’t say this lightly) one of the best films of 2011. It is a triumph of cinematic talent, magnificent acting and serves as a memorable end to the series which started almost ten years ago. Since then, directors have changed and the tone has shifted to accommodate the increasing darkness of the story, consistent with the books. Chris Columbus made a sufficient director for Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, but I hate to think what he would have done with this final effort. It would probably have been set to a strict ‘family movie’ structure and the feel of the whole things would be closer to Toy Story than the powerful energy David Yates has injected into the films.

Before Potter, Yates was more of a TV director. He showed signs of brilliance when directing dramas such as State of Play and Sex Traffic, but never before did he manage to move an audience on such a grand, epic scale. This may well be his masterpiece.

I wasn’t a massive fan of the first instalment of the Deathly Hallows two-parter. It dragged, and relied too much on the tensions between Harry, Ron and Hermione while they went on an extended and very bleak camping tour around Britain, attempting to destroy the many parts of evil wizard Voldemort’s soul. In Part 2, The Dark Lord is planning an attack on Hogwarts School, and our favourite trio return to the place of their education to defend its corridors and the students it houses. But things have changed at Hogwarts since they have been away. Professor Snape (Alan Rickman, perhaps giving the performance of his career) has taken up the post of headmaster, and is the polar opposite of the friendly Dumbledore. When we first see the school under his command it is in an affecting early scene where he pensively surveys the pupils marching like soldiers in the Dementor-surrounded courtyard. This haunting glimpse of what the school has become sets the tone for the upcoming ‘battle of Hogwarts’ – bleak, unforgiving and incredibly moving.

In some ways, this is a wonderfully constructed war movie, with cinematic power and sophistication close to equalling films such as Platoon and Saving Private Ryan. The hour-long battle of good versus evil is an astonishing spectacle to behold, and will likely impress even non-fans with its sheer awesomeness.

There is the usual nagging problem, or question, that the series has almost adopted as its trademark – will people understand the complexities of the plot if they haven’t read J.K. Rowling’s novels? The answer is: probably not. But for once I think we can lay aside that problem. It is wise to recognise it as a fault, but in this instance I do not believe the filmmakers could have realistically made the film easier to understand for non-Potter-readers without the plot losing a degree of its profundity.

Alexandre Desplat’s superbly evocative score is an intricate work of great beauty. For me it was the saving grace of the previous film, and here plays a large part in increasing the breathless tension of the battle scenes while making the more unsettling moments all the more tangible. However, the most effective use of music is the re-using and reworking of the classic themes composed by John Williams, as well as an arresting new arrangement of the track ‘Dumbledore’s Farewell’, originally composed by Nicholas Hooper for the sixth film.

One must also take a moment, whilst being impressed by big bangs and action set-pieces, to admire the incredible array of British acting talent this film offers. The wonderful Maggie Smith returns as Professor McGonagall, who was a notable absence from Deathly Hallows Part 1. Ralph Fiennes as Lord Voldemort is, in my opinion, worthy of an Oscar nomination – a performance that captures evil on a level that has not been seen since Heath Ledger took up the role of The Joker in The Dark Knight. The central three, Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint, may have had their shaky moments in the past but have now grown into fine young actors, although my personal favourite will always be Watson as the practical-minded Hermione.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 won’t satisfy everyone. But I expect – and hope – the majority of its audiences across the globe will cherish it as a near-perfect gem of blockbusting entertainment. Cynics may raise their eye-brows at the dedication of some of its fans (camping outside all night to be the first to see it may not be everyone’s idea of fun), but in the end that level of intense devotion is at the heart of the film. It is a jaw-dropping cinematic experience, and a superb closing film to a series that will define a generation. I absolutely loved it.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (2011), directed by David Yates, is distributed by Warner Pros. Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Text © Barnaby Walter 2011. Image © Warner Bros.

Larry Crowne ★☆☆☆☆

2011-07-18T13:35:00.000-07:00

It’s so hard to criticise Tom Hanks, but I’m going to have to give it a go. Larry Crown, a film which he not only stars in but also directs, writes and produces, is absolute rubbish. Hanks may be a likable presence in any film – and the same goes for his co-star Julia Roberts – but this romcom’s faults are etched into its bland direction and naff script; two things that unfortunately Hanks has to be held accountable for.

The story is one of those ludicrous plots that have been tried many times before, something which may have been on the minds of the cast since they all offer uninspired and lacklustre performances that would have looked second-rate in a gutter-level sitcom. One would expect more from a project helmed by such a Hollywood great.

Hanks plays Larry, a guy who decides to seek higher education qualifications when he is made redundant. His class teacher is a borderline alcoholic (Roberts) who shows little passion for teaching. She hates life and her husband. But, by meeting Larry she learns that life isn’t so bad, and he helps her to realise that her husband is a dick and should dropped immediately. For a while I hoped the film would suddenly take a whiplash-change of tone and depict her bloodily slaying her partner with a stapler before asking Larry to help her cover up the crime. Sadly Hanks wasn’t thinking along these lines when he wrote the screenplay. I won’t tell you the actual ending, but if you are of or above average intelligence, have seen the trailer, the poster and/or read the above synopsis I think you’re more than capable of working out the shocking conclusion without me being accused of spoiling the whole thing.

I wouldn’t be complaining about the unoriginality quite so much if the film had made me laugh, but Larry Crown turns out to be yet another film that deserves to fall into the ever-growing genre of the ‘unfunny comedy’. There’s also an odd subplot involving a biker-girl and her gang of alternative-types who give Larry and his cluttered house a make-over.

Of course, humour is subjective, but the attempts at comedy in this film are so hackneyed and eye-wateringly obvious I suspect even the more forgiving of Hanks fans will come away feeling disappointed.

The most depressing aspect of the film is its incredible waste of talent. Julia Roberts is one of the acting elite, and must have taken on this role as a favour for her mate Tom. I can’t think why she would otherwise agree to star in such an inept picture. George Takei is also rather embarrassing as a freaky lecturer who repeatedly confiscates students’ mobile phones. Such talent-waste extends behind the camera too. James Newton Howard, one of the greatest composers working in Hollywood today, is barely given a chance to conjure up a mood with his score in between the flat gags.

It’s soul-destroying to see people you like and respect making fools of themselves. Roberts just about gets away with it – I’d pay to see her play biting and bitter any day – but for Hanks this is a sorry affair. I’d advise anyone who loves his classic catalogue films, such as You’ve Got Mail, Forest Gump and Sleepless in Seattle, to stay well clear of this if they don’t want their image of this once-great actor permanently besmirched.

Larry Crowne, directed by Tom Hanks, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from StudioCanal UK, Certificate 12.

The Return of Jafar ★★☆☆☆

2011-07-18T03:26:00.000-07:00

The Return of Jafar is a below-par straight-to-video sequel to Disney’s animated classic Aladdin. As the title would suggest, it sees the return of one of the House of Mouse’s best villains, the English-accented Jafar. Ah yes, the American/British cheeky racism. Of course Jafar is English – he is a villain, so he must be a Brit. Unlike Aladdin and Jasmine, who are American (what else?).

Disney announced some years they were going to put a stop of their habit of continuing their best works on the small screen (although some spin-offs still make their way to disc – yes, I am talking to you Tinker Bell), but this was one of their first forays into the home-entertainment-sequel world.

It’s shit, of course, but there is still something quite endearing between the cutsie-cuddly relationship between Jasmine and Aladdin, even if the absence of Robin Williams as the Genie is strongly felt. Luckily he returns for the third in the series, Aladdin and the King of Thieves.

Most people will let out a groan when they see the words ‘Walt Disney Home Video Presents...’ come up at the start of the film. If a company is honest enough to mention from the off that this was never intended for the cinema, they are either very brave or very stupid. Maybe this is why they ditched this awful phrase for their later projects, opting for the grander ‘Walt Disney Pictures Presents’, even if the film wasn’t actually made by their feature film division but one of the lesser offshoots such as Disney Toon Studios.

Viewers in the twenty-first century (this was made in the early 90s) may also be rather miffed at the 4:3 presentation. Most of Disney’s animated classics, save for the early academy-ratio ones, are in widescreen, but not this small-screen cartoon. Gone are also some of the impressive CGI animation used in the original Aladdin, but I suppose the big budget stuff is reserved for more theatrical material.

The truth remains that nobody over the age of seven puts on the DVD of this film (or video, if you still have the equipment to play it) expecting a masterpiece. If you want quality, stick on the wonderful (but arguably politically incorrect) original. If not, enjoy the trash and wallow in the dreadful songs of this cheap cash-in.

Text © Barnaby Walter. Image © Disney

The Return of Jafar (1994) is available on DVD from Walt Disney Studios Home Entertainment, Certificate U.

This review has been adapted from the post The Summer Blog: Part 7, written on 18 June 2011.

Transformers: Dark of the Moon

2011-07-06T17:27:00.000-07:00

★☆☆☆☆

I don’t think, out of the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of films I have seen in my lifetime I have ever seen anything that relates closer to pornography than Michael Bay’s Transformers series. I am not the first to make a connection between this multi-million dollar blockbusting franchise and the world of adult entertainment. Other critics have (rightly) wailed about its crass sexualisation of a children’s toy (Mark Kermode has been very vocal on this point). Whether it’s big explosions, falling skyscrapers or women’s legs, Bay seems to think everything has the ability to get people's blood pumping. Each scene is filmed with such primal, desperate relish, it ends up feeling pathetic and dreadfully dull.

Let’s get one major revelation out the way. Transformers: Dark of the Moon, the third film in the series, is better than the second,Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. That film was horrible, nasty, vulgar, pernicious, sickening, and also managed to be immensely boring. This film is also horrible, nasty, vulgar, pernicious, sickening, and manages to be immensely boring. But it has a plot. Ah yes, that little old nugget of cinematic tradition – the plot. Strange as this may seem, it amazes me how many people are ready to like this third film simply because it has a coherent story. In my world, a story in a major blockbuster shouldn’t be a luxury, a phenomenon to be enthusiastically cheered on when it occurs in case it leaves us again on the next robot-smashing outing. People are complementing the film for finally doing what the previous instalments should have done in the first place.

It is things within this plot that I find disquieting. As you will know if you have seen the trailer, the story involves the 1960s Russia/USA space race. But of course, this momentous moment in mankind’s history was actually linked to the silly Hasbro toys. An alien Transformer-ship-type-thingy had crashed on the moon, and JFK had given his people orders to go and find out what was going on. But, a bit further on in the film, another real life event is brought into the mix: the Chernobyl disaster of ’86. Of course, this was Transformers-related as well. People had tried to master some bad-ass robot power/energy thing and, to put it as crassly as the movie portrays it, bad stuff went down. I cannot speak for other viewers, but I found this moment of the film deeply distasteful. This is a film aimed at young teenage boys, featuring big toys hitting each other, with some hot babes and ill-judged unfunny humour thrown in. And here it is using a real, devastating disaster as what is essentially ‘destruction juice’ in order to lead onto further carnage. It's actually rather offensive.

What’s also offensive is the film’s treatment of women, something that has been present in the series from the start. Our hero (devoid of a discernable personality as ever) Sam Witwicky, played by Shia LaBeouf, has moved on from Megan Fox, his past girlfriend who was a really amazing, intelligent woman. She could do loads of things like straddle motorbikes, bend over cars, bounce her breasts while fleeing from giant robots, walk sexily, and purse her lips as if ready for whatever may come their way. Clearly she was an immensely talented actress giving her character of Mikaela Banes all the depth and soul she needed. But things went awry. Megan wasn’t rehired for this third film. That’s what happens when you liken the director to Adolf Hitler.

But sex-starved adolescence need not fear. Good old Michael Bay has hired British model Rosie Huntington-Whitely. Of course, Michael knows what makes a good actress. But just to make sure he got the right girl, he probably got in his mate and executive producer Steven Spielberg to help him cast the role of the brainless prostitute hero’s girlfriend. However, instead of going to acting schools, drama colleges, casting lists or anything of the kind, they go to their Victoria’s Secret catalogues. And they find Rosie. And she is perfect. She can do all the things Fox can do, like bend over cars, bounce her breasts while fleeing from giant robots, walk sexily, purse her lips....whatever the situation, Rosie has the capabilities. And here’s the absolute clincher: she is even worse at acting than Megan. Brilliant! Because Transformers is the only major movie franchise that relies on awful acting yet manages to convince its hoard of delusional fans that talent does not matter.

Here we come to another lesson Michael has learned. Acting is hard. His “actors” Shia and Rosie are having a bit of difficulty. And, although he loves terrible acting (he is the guy, of course, that brought us Pearl Harbor), he’s not a total idiot. He knows Transformers 2 was missing something. So he has hired in some guest stars: France McDormand and John Malkovich. They come in to get the acting done, in a way one may hire in some builders brick up that dilapidated garden wall to keep the neighbours happy. As Mark Kermode on Radio 5 rightly said, the acting is like a special effect in itself. Bay throws in some Actors to do some real Acting and hopefully people won’t realise that the whole thing is dire. Sadly, this doesn’t work. Bay hasn’t channelled the talents of McDormand and Malkovich (who play Big Important Boss Type People Who Walk Around And Shout A Lot) and therefore inspired everyone to raise their game. He has infected them with his particular breed of non-acting, where everyone plays empty caricatures of vaguely recognisable characters from other films, then move aside while more massive robots punch the life out of each other.

Lastly, (well, almost lastly) there is the subject of the RMH. What is RMH I hear you say? Well this is my new abbreviation for the three things that the most barrel-scraping, truly nasty filmmakers will try to get into their movies at all costs: Racism, Misogyny and Homophobia. If you have read my review of The Hangover: Part II, you will know that I will not tolerate these three things in modern-day cinema. There is no excuse for them. I don’t want to dwell too long on this – I find it ugly to talk about such things – but someone needs to pull the film up on it, so here goes. Cruel racial stereotypes are not funny or acceptable, especially in a film with a young following in mind. Misogyny, and the leery sexualisation and objectification of women is not cool. And those who claim the scenes that show Rosie scampering between wrecked buildings actually empower her, y’know, in a feminist sense are either being wilfully absurd or incredibly stupid. And last but not of least importance is the homophobia. It is indefensible, especially in a film that will probably be acted out in the playground afterwards.Transformers 3 is the second film I have seen this summer that reminds us that those homo freaks, the ones that do, like, sex stuff with men, are real sick people. I doubt very much most normal adults believe this venomous nonsense. Let’s hope the young teens who go to see this film don’t hop along Hollywood’s current hate-wagon and enjoy Michael Bay’s merry ride around his circus of bigotry.

It’s annoying that those who hated Transformers 2 back in 2009 were told to, in the words of Megan Fox, ‘shut the f*** up and go have fun’, and now two years later members of the cast and crew, including Bay, Fox and LaBeouf have all said they thought the movie was crap. Shia ‘hated’ it. Bay has slated it. Fox has famously compared working on it to Nazi Germany. So please, can’t we just save time and admit this one is awful now and get on with our lives. Oh no. Once Bay has got your money, he may consider it. But not yet. Everyone involved in the film is still of the ‘shut the f*** up and go have fun’ mentality.

What’s rather interesting is how a film so morally repugnant (and I said the same about The Hangover: Part II) can also be so boring. It’s close to three hours long, and I have never felt so restless in my life whilst sitting through it. The action in the last hour is constant and mind-numbing. There is no tension or dramatic resonance to the CGI spectacles we are asked to gasp at and applaud. Buildings fall down. Robots make lots of noise. We are meant to be bowled over by the awesomeness of the whole thing. I am aware that a lot of special effects experts spent a long time making this film look amazing, and in terms of technical spectacle the film is flawless. But we reached the point long ago where big bangs and 9/11-inspired destruction were enough to entertain us. If it’s not tasteless (and much of this is), it’s yawn-inducingly dull – two ingredients that don’t equal good entertainment.

This film will make loads of money. This doesn’t mean it is good. Some people think money and quality go hand in hand, and they are entitled to believe that. Others will look past such a superficial analysis and see what Transformers really is - a big abyss full of the things that are nasty and horrible in the world of cinema. It has a disgusting underlying contempt for its audience and relies on their blind stupidity. Oh, and the 3D is dreadful. But expecting otherwise would be like hoping for one’s root canal surgery to be painless. Save yourselves, save the world, stay away from Transformers: Dark of the Moon.

Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011), directed by Michael Bay, is distributed by Paramount Pictures, Certificate 12A.

The Summer Film Blog: Post 9

2011-06-28T10:32:00.000-07:00

The obscenity trial surrounding the publication of Allen Ginsberg’s epic poem 'Howl' in 1955 makes for an interesting drama in directors Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman’s biopic. Taking on both the subject matter and name of the poem, Howl, released on Blu-ray and DVD this week, is made up of a variety of styles and techniques (including some wonderfully colourful animations) which are then cut together to make a mosaic of strong words and vibrant pictures. The overall effect is that of a discourse about the meaning of culture and the subjective relationship between a writer’s intention and public perception. This may not sound like a wildly entertaining prospect for a feature film, but Howl is stirring, funny and occasionally moving. At its core is a bold and realistic performance by James Franco as Ginsberg, who narrates the film as if he were being interviewed, describing his relationships with author Jack Kerouac and his long-term partner Peter Orlovsky.

I didn’t mind the darting back and forth between courtroom scenes to black and white flashbacks from Ginsberg’s past. It worked well, and kept up an element of surprise that is sometimes lost when filmmakers endeavour to bring the lives of their idols to screen. However, it’s a shame that the brilliant actor John Hamm, known to many as Don Draper from Mad Men, is somewhat wasted as the defence lawyer hired to prove that the poem 'Howl' should not be classed as an obscene publication.

People in Ginsberg’s life, such as Kerouac, are also only fleetingly explored as individuals in their own right. Perhaps this is not a wholly criminal fault, as the main focus is of the film is the discussion about obscenity, but it would have been nice to have found out a little bit more about the men and women who made this now revered poet tick.

Howl (2010), directed by Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Soda Pictures, Certificate 15.

Bridesmaids ★★★★★

2011-06-23T16:51:00.000-07:00

Big, crude, mouthy, irreverent comedies can be brilliant. Sadly, this is a rare phenomenon. They are usually some of the worst films going. They con their audiences into liking them with colourful marketing campaigns then claim to be word of mouth hits. They often present a cynical, bigoted and nasty view of the world, and ask their audiences to enjoy it. They allow viewers to feed off cruelty and discrimination. These films are some of the worst under the sun. Thankfully, Bridesmaids is not one of them. It is crude. It is mouthy. It is very irreverent. And best of all, it is incredibly funny. It doesn’t ask its audience to become horrible people in order to enjoy it. It has a heart, a soul and enjoyment at its core. It’s one of the best films of 2011.

Kristen Wiig plays Annie. Before the recession, Annie was on top of the world. She had her own bakery, and was serving delicious cakes to the masses. But the economic crisis forced her to close her store and start working at a depressing jewellery store. However, her life may be awful (she shares her flat with Matt Lucas...no, seriously, she does) but she stills has her friend Lillian. They have been friends since school, and when Lillian asks Annie to be her maid of honour she says yes immediately. She did not bank, however, on the other bridesmaids – or one maid in particular: Helen. With effortless beauty and sophistication, Helen (played by a perfectly cast Rose Byrne) outshines all of Annie’s efforts to be the best bridesmaid on earth. She steals her spotlight, makes out they have been friends for life (when really Lillian only met Helen, her bosses wife, eight months previously) and manipulates all of the wedding-events to suit herself. This pisses Annie off majorly.

Plus, Annie is having some serious relationship difficulties. She’s getting lots of sex, but this is all bed-bouncing and no love. True, it is with a particularly gorgeous catch (Mad Men’s John Hamm), but he treats her like an object, not a person. It’s as if he’s walked straight out of The Hangover. He orders her to leave just after sex. Nice. But things start looking up for Annie when she runs into Irish police officer Rhodes (Chris O’Dowd). Maybe this could be Annie’s chance of happiness?

Comedies that involve women behaving in a bitchy and conniving way usually just come across as, well, bitchy and conniving. Script writers frequently mistake nastiness for humour (yes, Bride Wars, I’m looking at you). Hate isn’t funny. Irony is, and Bridesmaids has loads of it. We know that the fighting between Annie and Helen is absurd, that’s what makes it so funny. We are never asked to commend cruelty – in fact, we are regularly invited to find fault with Annie’s character. Our sympathies remain with her, but the story doesn’t hesitate to punish her for behaving in a mean and irresponsible way.

It’s also great to see women at the centre of a film that really is incredibly lewd. For too long females in ensemble comedies have been there to do one thing: sexually pleasure the male leads. Now, the girls are fighting back. But not with reversed sexism. No, their brand of humour is far more intelligent. They prove how outrageous crudity can be eye-wateringly hilarious. Some of the jokes will make even the most desensitised aficionado of crude comedy blush. Quite often, films go overboard with the gross-out and forget their objective is to make people laugh. There are moments in Bridesmaids that are wonderfully repulsive, but succeed in producing non-stop laughs from scene-to-scene.

Another aspect of the film that sets it apart from its fellow genre buddies is that it dares to make its romantic subplot realistic and touching. Chris O’Dowd is an inspired piece of casting as Annie’s possible love interest, and provides an undercurrent of humanity that is so often missing from other big Hollywood comedies. The screenplay, co-written by Wiig, manages to be both side-splittingly funny whilst maintaining a more traditional sense of charm.

Annie’s failings in love and life are the subject of jokes, but also provide a discourse about what it must be like to slide down the ladder of success while others look down and sneer. For once, class vulgarity is chastised and made to seem ridiculous, unlike in celebratory wealth fests such as Sex and the City 2. In fact, that film is very relevant here, as it was probably the last time audiences were asked to laugh along with a group of women having a wild time. I find it hard to watch Sex and the City 2 without actively hating every single one of those shoe-obsessed, vacuous women. At the ends of Bridesmaids, I loved each of the odd, eccentric characters, even the initial villain Helen. These women are not vacuous. They are multi-dimensional, interesting and hilarious to be around (particularly Melissa McCarthy as Megan, the weirdest of the bunch).

Bridesmaids is a barnstorming success. A brilliant exercise in daring wit and comedic characterisation. Judd Apatow, the alleged comedy king, has finally done it. He has made a funny film. All his past efforts (Step-Brothers, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Get Him to the Greek) are some of the worst films of the twenty-first century so far. Now he has made one of the best comedies in recent memory. Credit should also go to director Paul Feig, a filmmaker who’s back catalogue never suggested he was capable of this level of genius. This is a comedy with brains, big laughs and characters you really can (and want to) believe in. Cherish it while you can.

Bridesmaids (2011), directed by Paul Feig, is distributed by Universal Pictures, Certificate 15.

The Kids Are All Right ★★★★★

2011-06-23T10:36:00.000-07:00

Same-sex marriage is still, rather ridiculously, a controversial subject for some people. The idea of a loving couple entering into matrimony shouldn’t be restricted to heterosexuals, and this film presents the best argument seen onscreen so far as to why women should be allowed to marry women, and men should be allowed to marry men. And the film doesn’t limit itself to marriage – oh no, it tackles gay parenting head on too.

Of course, as the title would suggest, this is a film about the kids. 18 year old Joni (Mia Wasikowska) and 15 year old Laser (Josh Hutcherson) have two lesbian mothers who were each impregnated with donor-semen from a sperm bank. Despite having two gay parents, the kids live a fairly normal suburban life. One mother, Jules (the wonderful Julianne Moore) is a bit hippie and laidback, and the other, Nic (an equally splendid Annette Bening), is conventional and caringly strict. It is clear from the start that the life this family leads could be compared to thousands of ‘straight’ families across the globe. Nic nags Joni about writing her birthday thank-you cards, Jules discusses a new vehicle they’ve just bought and Laser is told to not talk on his mobile while at the dinner table. It could be any normal family.

It turns into an unhappy, rather abnormal family when Joni and Laser contact their biological father, Paul (Mark Ruffalo). He is fashionably scruffy, rides a motorbike – something which Nic really doesn’t approve of – and dropped out of University to open his own restaurant. When the two teenagers meet their father at first everything is rather awkward, and when their two mums find out Paul is asked over to lunch. More awkwardness ensues. But he slowly becomes part of their lives, like a strange paternal parenthesis. It is when Jules begins working for him as his landscape designer things get a little tricky. Actually, more than a little tricky.

The way the relationships play out is riveting. The more melodramatic moments don’t come over as over-the-top or soapy. They are raw, upsetting and visceral. But there is also something utterly captivating about the day-to-day lives of these people. They are all so likable I ended up wishing this was a 24-episode TV series instead of a one-off film.

What’s wonderful is the way the two mums approach genuine parental worries. For a gay couple they are surprisingly conservative, and have a clear idea about the way they want their children to grow up (although Nic is clearly the driving force behind such ideas). They worry Paul’s carefree attitude may influence Joni to rethink her plans to go to university. They also wonder if Laser is having sex with his male best friend, and when discussing the possibility that their son might be gay, their conversation is the same as you’d expect it to be between a husband and wife. They show initial concern, probably because they worry about other people’s prejudice towards Laser, if he did turn out to be gay. But they are also cautiously liberal on the subject: ‘We should be okay with it, shouldn’t we?’ one says to the other.

This is also a film which resolutely holds up a flame to the power of love in ways that soppy movies like The Notebook can only ever dream of. Nic and Jules have marital issues, but their determination in their commitment and love for each other is tangible and powerful.

On top of all this, the film is wickedly funny. Director Lisa Cholodenko’s marvellous script, co-written by Stuart Blumberg (who’s last contribution to a screenplay was 2004’s inferior erotic comedy The Girl Next Door), is a comic masterpiece. Subtle humour is mixed with bigger laughs to create a delicious cocktail of well-observed domestic comedy and narrative-driven humour.

It’s wonderful to see a big Hollywood company like Universal backing a project such as this. It is liberal in its views on relationships yet at the same time still comes across as a comfortably traditional, and very affectionate, portrayal of the classic middle-class American family. I absolutely loved it.

The Kids Are All Right (2010), directed by Lisa Cholodenko, is available on Blu-ray disc and DVD from Universal Pictures, Certificate 15.

Bad Teacher ★★☆☆☆

2011-06-21T14:19:00.000-07:00

Bad Teacher has been advertised as a cool, biting romantic comedy. The promotional trailer shows Cameron Diaz as a teacher trying to raise money to have surgery to increase the size of her breasts, and by doing so secure the affections of new school supply teacher Justin Timberlake.

The trailer is rather misleading. The reality is less formulaic, but also less interesting. Diaz’s narcissistic character does want plastic surgery so as to have more of a chance with Justin. But she doesn’t want romance, or companionship. She wants money. And Justin just happens to be a guy with a fortune. He’s actually not really in the film all that much.

There isn’t any real romance (apart from a belated attempt at the end), nothing very funny happens, and although Diaz is a consistently watchable presence, the script doesn’t allow her ‘bad teacher’ to develop in any likable or interesting way.

Some parts did manage to get a small laugh from me, but these were mostly due to British actress Lucy Punch as Diaz’s competitive colleague. Punch is much too good for this stuff, but she still manages to drag some comedy from the uninspired script.

Structurally the film is a mess. In all honesty, there isn’t a structure, just a bundle of odd, ill-judged scenarios that feel as if they’ve been pilfered from a bad taste E4 sitcom. There is a really horrible ‘dry humping’ scene that way outstays its welcome (not that it was very welcome in the first place). Creepy and very weird.

Cameron Diaz, in an interview on BBC Radio 5, said that she was so glad that this script came her way as there are so few comedies that have females in the lead. This is apparently because men don’t understand women, says Cameron. Her words may have truth in them, though her point seems baffling and absurd when one looks at how women are portrayed in the film. They dress like prostitutes, are incessantly bitchy and manipulative, and revel in their own narcissism. This film may give a female the lead, but it peddles the same leery and cynical attitude towards women usually found in barrel-scraping blokey comedies such as The Hangover and Superbad.

It’s a shame, because it feels as if Bad Teacher had the potential to be edgy and wickedly funny. But our lead character’s failings and flaws are so extreme (child cruelty, frequent drug abuse) that there is little room for us to sympathise with her, or even enjoy hating her. She’s a shallow, horrid creation, and you’d be better off never meeting her.

Bad Teacher (2011), directed by James Kasdan, is distributed by Sony Pictures, Certificate 15.

Heartbeats ★★★★☆

2011-06-15T17:10:00.000-07:00

Although his much-praised first feature, 2009’s I Killed My Mother, didn’t get a release in British cinemas, young Canadian filmmaker Xavier Dolan’s second feature is a confident and interesting piece of artistic filmmaking.

Dolan both directs, writes and acts in Heartbeats, a wonderfully colourful and indulgently bohemian story about two young adults (played by Monia Chokri and Dolan himself) who fall in love with a charismatic young man named Nicolas (Niels Schneider). It isn’t clear if Nicola is a one for the ladies or a one for the men (some onscreen evidence suggests both friends may have a chance in securing his sexual affections), but the three repeatedly end up sleeping together. However, the bed-sharing appears to be for the purpose of sleep, not sex, and although sexuality is on the minds of our central trio, there is still something strangely innocent about the way they play fight and curl up together under the covers.

One of the film’s most startling creative aspects is the striking use of music set to slow-motion moving images, which more often than not feature characters simply walking down the street or preparing for an outing. Dalida’s superb rendition of the song ‘Bang Bang’ used as a running theme, perfectly illustrates the characters’ burning passions and hidden agendas. There is also an inspired and effectively stirring use of Bach’s Cello Suite No.1 Prelude, played over the more erotic and intense moments within the film. This piece was also recently used in The Hangover: Part II, although that film made us witness the charmless characters making fun of the beautiful piece of music. This film allows those who appreciate classical music to do so without interruption or sneering inverted snobbery.

There were times in the film when the more artistic attributes threatened to overstay their welcome (slow-mo to an arresting soundtrack is fine, but there is only so much a viewer can take), and this is a fault so many films with artistic aspirations often commit. But thankfully our sympathies stay with the characters, and there is something continually fascinating in the psychology of the central three. Some may feel the film barely scrapes the surface of the drama that could have been had if the characters had revealed their true feelings sooner. But this is a story about the lack of love, not the everlasting power of it, and how though we may occasionally feel we have found ‘the one’, deception and competition from others is never far away. This is perhaps a rather cynical message for a filmmaker as young as Dolan to be expressing, but there is enough witty humour and playful but biting comedy throughout to stop the film becoming an overwhelmingly depressing experience.

There are clear links to be drawn between Dolan’s use of colour and discussion of human sexuality and the films of Spanish director Pedro Almodovar. But Heartbeats takes on a more lyrical and fluid approach to story than Almodovar’s meticulously structured works, and shows encouraging signs of Dolan finding his own cinematic style. His efforts are not always consistent or successful, and there are some rough edges than could have been tidied up, but overall this is an enjoyably fascinating film that will hopefully lead onto even greater things.

Heartbeats, released in UK cinemas 27 May 2011, is distributed by Network Releasing, Certificate 15. Viewers are warned that the film contains an extended scene of strobe lighting.

Text © Barnaby Walter. Image © Network Releasing.

How I got Sex and the City 2 very very wrong

2011-06-11T14:15:00.001-07:00

When the sequel to 2008’s smash hit Sex and the City was released in cinemas last year, I eagerly went to see it on opening night with one of my best friends and my younger sister. We were all fans of the first film, and the six TV series that had come before it, and were excited by the idea of rejoining Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda for another outing.

Upon exiting the leisure complex where we had seen the film, it was generally agreed that it had been a good evening out (especially the Indian buffet which followed). But we couldn’t shake off a feeling of disappointment. We had laughed and enjoyed watching our four favourite girls riding camels across the sand dunes of Abu Dhabi, but the film didn’t have the same epic-saga-feel of the first. Too much laughing at ‘camel toes’ and not enough character, emotion and story. But the truth still remained that I had enjoyed the film. So, the next day, I happily wrote my review of Sex and the City 2, giving it 3 Stars. I expressed my disappointment at the emptiness of the picture, but generally praised it for its comic scenarios. I was wrong. I did not lie in my review, or commit bad faith. I didn’t feign enthusiasm. I genuinely thought the film deserved a 3 Star review. I would now like to take this back and issue it with a 1 Star verdict. The deduction of two stars from a movie now over a year old isn’t a momentous event, but I have for some time now felt I wasn’t quite done with discussing this movie’s faults.

It actually comes down to three issues I failed to sufficiently flag up in my original review. I do not know why I didn’t go into them in more detail. I am at a loss as to how I could have praised this truly disgusting film. I think I’m going to have to put it down to the fact that I had such a fun evening out that my movie-quality-o-metre was temporarily hijacked by my love for the TV series, my love for the original film, and my determination to have a good night out. This is an unforgivable crime, I know, and I apologise for it. The only pathetic defence I can offer is that I did not intentionally lie. I was under a happy-spell. After re-watching the film twice on Blu-ray disc, this spell has now broken, and I am ashamed.

So, the three issues, in the order which they arise in the film: 1. Gay Stereotyping. 2. Class vulgarity. 3. Xenophobia and a patronising depiction of Muslims and the Middle East which borders on racism.

Let’s start with the gay stereotyping. It is not an unknown fact that Sex and the City has a notable gay following. This could be because it is made by gay men. Producer Darren Star is openly gay, as is the film’s director Michael Patrick King. But Sex and the City 2 actively peddles gay stereotypes in a really horrible way that would be homophobic if the film was made by two straight men. These stereotypes are most visible in the opening half hour, when the four women attend the ‘gay wedding’ of Stanford and Anthony, two unlikable, irritatingly camp men from the TV series. In one vomit-inducing scene, the girls celebrate how Carrie’s ‘gay best friend’ is marrying Charlotte’s ‘gay best friend’. This may come down to my own personal preferences, but as a gay man I find the term ‘gay best friend’ rather demeaning and profoundly irrelevant to 21^st Century society. I would never refer to someone as my ‘black best friend’ or ‘brown haired best friend’ or ‘left handed best friend’ or ‘infertile best friend’. If challenged, those who use the term ‘gay best friend’ will claim it is an endearing celebration of differences. I would argue it continues to place gay people in an ‘other’ category, keeping them in a separate sphere of society, restricting them from mixing into the mainstream, as if gay friends are fashionable accessories. It is a ghastly phrase. We are then treated to an eye wateringly unfunny ‘gay wedding’ scene which outstays its welcome (particularly when Liza Minnelli starts strutting about, looking like a lost extra from a George A. Romero movie). The gay men who made this rubbish would probably claim this scene is an affectionate in-joke – a chance to laugh at the stereotypes that are so often enforced upon them. The gay men watching this rubbish will most likely feel slightly ill, and wonder how such an ill-judged scene can get into a big-budget, high profile film. But the stereotyping doesn’t stop here. You wait till we get to the Muslims.

Before we get to the Islam-bashing, we need to mention the sickening depiction of wealth in the film. It would be an understatement to say Sex and the City 2 is class vulgar. It features four women whose main source of happiness stems from the contents of their wardrobes. The more shoes they have, the better life is for them. As well as being a thoroughly ugly representation of modern working women, this hideous aspect of our four leading ladies occupies the majority of the film. In the first movie, shoes/dresses ect were treated as a fun luxury. In this film wealth is represented as the be all and end all of a happy life. Not content with their own lavish richness (Carrie has two gorgeous Manhattan apartments ...TWO!!!) they feel the need to experience the five-star treatment in the United Arab Emirates. In Abu Dhabi they are driven about in a fleet of posh cars; a vehicle per woman, something which will have the eco-friendly crowd clawing at their eyes in disgust. This trip to the Middle East is also a chance for Charlotte to get away from her stressful New York lifestyle. Charlotte doesn’t have a job, but she is really really really stressed. She has two children who are cared for by a full-time residential Nanny. But she is still really really really stressed. Why is Charlotte really really really stressed? Because she has to bake cupcakes and attempt to get children’s paint stains out of her vintage skirt. Poor poor Charlotte. Whilst getting pissed with Miranda at their private bar in Abu Dhabi, Charlotte utters the line ‘How do the women without help [aka a fulltime Nanny] do it?’ and Miranda promptly replies ‘I have no fucking idea’. The women glug back their cocktails. The audience slit their wrists.

Now it’s time to tackle what is perhaps the most controversial issue about the film – the depiction of the Muslim culture and people who are Not American. I recently cited Sex and the City 2 in my review of The Hangover Part II as a film which has played its part in helping Hollywood to effectively reinterpret the map of the world. This new map has two nations in it. One is called America. The other is Not America. The country of Not America may well be a continent, but they don’t care. Let’s not forget that the majority of American citizens do not have passports. And Hollywood has taken this to mean that Americans do not want to travel beyond their borders into the strange lands of Not America. It is depressing to conclude that, if we are to socially interpret this new wave of films and examine their popularity, Hollywood seems to be dead right. Americans find the land of Not America strange, frightening and dangerous. This is not my stereotyping of Americans. This is what Americans tell the world with the films they produce. Because the four girls in the film have travelled to the land of Not America, they feel they need conduct a patronising commentary on the Muslim tradition and make an offensive, crassly executed point about the suppression of women in Islamic culture. The subject of the rights of women in Muslim countries is a discussion worth having (and is indeed discussed in length in the media). But the term ‘time and a place’ has never been so appropriate, and Sex and the City 2 is neither the time nor the place. ‘I am a woman!’ screams Samantha in a crowded market place at the people of Abu Dhabi, ‘I have sex!’ She proceeds to gyrate her hips and wave condoms at them. We are expected to laugh at this appalling lack of sensitivity. But it doesn’t end here. The film holds up the four leads – all consumerist, vulgar, rich, narcissistic, vacuous, sex-obsessed, anorexic-looking Barbie-dolls – as the epitome of the liberal-thinking female world. These women collectively have the power to convince even the most forward thinking viewers that female empowerment was perhaps, in retrospect, not such a good idea. The way they are portrayed in this film makes them immune to our sympathy or respect. They don’t care. We don’t care. The filmmakers just want to get richer.

Once again, I must express my apologies for not noticing all these issues on first viewing. Perhaps I was blinded by the glitz, the glamour and the manipulative marketing. But I felt it was high time for an apology. I am sorry. I was wrong. Sex and the City 2 is a repugnant, hideous creation and I am ashamed for giving it such an easy time when it was released last year. I shall try to never make the same mistake again.

Barnaby Walter June 2011

Julia's Eyes ★★★☆☆

2011-06-05T05:07:00.000-07:00

This satisfyingly spooky, but generally unremarkable, Spanish horror thriller stars the wonderful Belen Rueda, an actress probably most familiar to British audiences for her powerful turn in 2008’s chiller The Orphanage. In fact, Julia’s Eyes not only features that movie’s leading lady, once again grappling with eerie surroundings and terrifying situations, but is also shares a rather famous producer: a certain Guillero del Toro, the man who directed Pan’s Labyrinth, and was for a while supposed to be directing The Hobbit. This is one of three producer-projects he has out this summer. The others are scare-fest Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, and Dreamworks' Kung Fu Panda2. Clearly nobody could ever accuse him of not being diverse.

Julia’s Eyes, directed by relatively new filmmaker Guillem Morales, works well as a standard jump-and-gasp horror. Rueda, who is perhaps Spain’s answer to Cate Blanchett, plays Julia, a woman desperate to discover the truth behind her blind sister’s suicide. Like her sister, Julia has sight difficulties; a congenital illness which causes her to slowly lose the use of her eyes. She and her husband Isaac stay in her sister’s creepy, creaky house while she tries to understand what made her sister take her own life, and learn the identity of her mysterious ‘boyfriend’ – a man who is seemingly invisible.

The mystery is more Stephen King than Agatha Christie, and succeeds in drawing us in with its fast-moving narrative and restless pace. It doesn’t waste time in delivering the chills, although some more moments of reflection may have been nice to flesh out the rather hazily drawn characters. One of the great aspects of The Orphanage was its ability to both scare and move in equal measure, causing its audiences to wipe away tears of both fear and sadness. This, unfortunately, serves up the scares but ignores the emotional weight of some of the more distressing aspects of the plot. There is some attempt at soul-searching towards the end, but this sadly comes over as a tad too sentimental rather than deeply affecting.

There is also the question of whether we would be so forgiving of the movie’s failings if it wasn’t Spanish. If it had been identical in execution, performance and production values, but had been in American-accented English, would it have attracted as much critical recognition?

However, despite not being a European masterpiece, there is still much to enjoy here, and Rueda’s performance is compelling enough to make the film’s hysterical finale that little bit less ridiculous.

The Hangover: Part II ★☆☆☆☆

2011-05-31T11:16:00.000-07:00

Upon this film’s release, a journalist writing in the New York Times raised an interesting idea. What if The Hangover: Part II was actually the defining realisation of a new sub-category in the comedy genre? This genre could be appropriately titled ‘the unfunny comedy’. I would argue it goes further than this. The Hangover: Part II is not only an unfunny comedy (if one can even call it a comedy). It is a significant moment in American cinema, because it shows that we have now reached a time when racism, homophobia and misogyny can be incited, perpetrated and celebrated in a mainstream box-office hit. This is a depressing state of affairs.

The movie is awful. Seriously god-awful. I didn’t much like 2009’s original, where three unlikable men wake up having lost their friend after a night of debauchery. But I could understand why some people did. The laughs (infrequent though they may have been) were crude and silly but fairly tolerable. The movie did hint at an underlying vein of misogyny, and was at times homophobic, but overall it was just a rather patchy mess. This film is different. Whereas the first feature punished the characters for their horrible, irresponsible and downright dangerous antics, and generally condemned their behaviour, this sequel does nothing of the sort. It actively celebrates and revels in the debauched behaviour of the three leads, and actually attempts to convince us that these activities make them into better men.

We shall get on to the debauchery in a minute. First, let’s take a look at the set-up. Stu, the down-to-earth dentist, is getting married. Not to the nagging girlfriend we were introduced to in the first film (a woman who is charmingly referred to by one of the main guys as a ‘c*nt’) but to an American-Thai woman named...oh what’s her name....doesn’t matter, she’s a woman, she shouldn’t really be talking and wearing clothes anyway. Of course, Stu has invited to the wedding in Thailand his buddies from the first movie, which are made up of odd-man Alan (Zac Galifianakis) and belligerent school-teacher Phil (Bradley Cooper). Justin Bartha is also there somewhere but, just like in the first one, he doesn’t really do anything. He’s probably too busy filming some kind of National Treasure sequel. As with before, Phil, Stu and Alan wake up without Bartha. But he’s safe and sound, having breakfast at their hotel. The missing member of their party this time is Stu’s fiancée’s teenage brother, Teddy – although they do discover a part of him in a bowl of water: a severed finger. Teddy is a talented ‘cellist, and has hopes of becoming a surgeon. And now he has lost a finger. Nice.

The immature men soon realise they have not woken up in the right place. They are in the centre of Bangkok. And they find, under a blanket in the dusty hotel room, the eccentric gangster from Hangover 1, Mr Chow. He is just as unfunny as he was in the original, except this time we get to see a monkey touching his penis. Ah yes, the monkey. Because the first film was so successful, the filmmakers clearly realised that to duplicate their success they have to redo the same story. Which they do, including the stolen tiger from Part 1 – except that it is now a stolen monkey. But the tiger belonged to convicted rapist Mike Tyson. So, naturally, I was anticipating another well-known criminal to demand the return of the monkey. Gary Glitter, maybe? Or Joseph Fritzl? No such luck – he turns out to belong to a group of drug dealers. Shame.

The three guys stumble around Bangkok, looking for Teddy. As they go from one sordid location to another sordid location, we learn snippets of the previous night’s exploits. We learn that cocaine was involved. Super. We also learn that Stu demanded a Tattoo (identical to Mike Tyson’s) to be inked on his face while he sheltered from a Police riot, which they had themselves caused. Hilarious. The script writers’ pride and joy – the absolute icing on the cake – is that Stu has also received unprotected anal sex from a transsexual lap-dancing prostitute. We get to see his/her genitals! I know! Wow! We see pictures of her penetrating him! I know! Wow! But the ugliest thing about this horrible scenario is the guys’ reaction to this news. Stu’s immediate reaction is disgust. He nearly has a breakdown. But this is not due to the fact that he has cheated on his fiancée (this little issue is raised, but only for a second). It is also not due to the fact that he may, having had semen ejaculated up inside of him (the mechanics of gay anal sex are luridly recounted) have contracted HIV or an AIDS related illness. No. His biggest worry is that.....he has had sex with a man! And here we come to the homophobia.

Within the first two minutes of the first film, we were treated to a joke that invited the audience to laugh at gay people. This second instalment doesn’t only ask us to laugh at gay people. It asks us to be sickened by them. We should be absolutely repulsed at any sexual orientation which doesn’t conform to Hollywood heterosexuality. The word ‘gay’ is repeatedly used as an insult, or to describe something nasty. The overall message of the film is that homosexuality exists, and should be ridiculed as often as possible. It’s hard to believe this was made in the twenty-first century.

The Hangover: Part II bears a close resemblance to two other backward, offensive and misguided movies this century has so far seen. These are Eli Roth’s Hostel and the painfully awkward comedy sequel Sex and the City 2. These films share Hangover 2’s two most repugnant faults: the above described homophobia, and the virulent racism. Hostel featured three guys going to a foreign country to have a holiday full of debauchery (ring any bells?). They discovered that the rest of the world is one horrid place called ‘Not America’ where the girls are whores and the men dangerous freaks. They also frequently use the word ‘gay’, almost obsessively so, but only to drive home the repulsiveness of....y’know...homos. Sex and the City 2 also enjoyed making fun of gays, but as it was made by a bunch of homosexuals nobody felt they could realistically take it to task on this matter. People did, however, pull it up for its patronising and potentially offensive portrayal of Muslim culture when the four aging women go to Abu Dhabi. This is rather similar to the way The Hangover: Part II chooses to portray Bangkok. Because our three guys are in a place that falls into the category of ‘Not America’, obviously all the locals must be, like in Hostel, crazy and violent. They are referred to by the blanket term ‘Asians’, and all of these ‘Asians’ are clearly the enemy. For a while I wondered if I was watching the directorial debut of Nick Griffin.

Racism is unforgivable. Homophobia is indefensible. But I may still have been able to write something positive about the film if it had made me laugh. However, as was the case with director Todd Phillips’ last movie Due Date, I’m not inclined to find abusive, discriminatory, and criminal behaviour hilarious. I must make it very clear here that I am not criticising the genre of the ‘crude comedy’. As I have said before, it can be done well. Dude Where’s My Car, American Pie, Role Models. There are many examples. But this is not one of them. This picture is for the most part incredibly boring. When it’s not sending its viewers to sleep, it delights in nastiness in ways which no mainstream studio comedy has dared do before.

So that the film can really end on a high note, convicted rapist Mike Tyson is brought back to do an awful song and dance. As if this wasn’t horrifying enough, we get to see the three lead men cheering and hero-worshiping the rapist as he grooves across the stage. It didn’t make me laugh. It made me feel slightly sick.

We live in a time when those who speak out against this vile rubbish are branded ‘moralists’, ‘uncool’ and ‘out of touch’. But I would much rather stand next to a moralist, and be counted as one myself, than join hands with those who believe racism is fine, homophobia is cool and convicted rapists are actually a bit of a laugh. I am not here to judge those who enjoy the film. They can make their peace with their own conscience. But in the case of this film it really does just come down to this question: do you stand for a) decency, or b) hate, discrimination and sleaze. If the answer is a), you better stay clear of The Hangover: Part II. If the answer is b), book your tickets now - you’re in for an absolute treat.

The Hangover Part II (2011), directed by Todd Phillips, is distributed by Warner Bros. Pictures, Certificate 15.

Fast Five ★★★★☆

2011-05-30T11:33:00.000-07:00

In terms of cinematic entertainment, I have over the past weeks suffered at the hands of dire movies such as Red Riding Hood, Water for Elephants and Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides. But for the first time in a while I came out the cinema happy. Why? Because Fast and Furious 5: Rio Heist (also marketed as Fast Five) is a colossal, brash, awesomely-staged piece of popcorn joy.

I am surprised to be writing in the favour of a film from this franchise. Since the underwhelming original, I’ve never felt very strongly about watching photogenic men smashing up cars on the streets of America, Tokyo ect. Now it’s Rio de Janeiro’s turn. And it’s actually a pretty impressive ride.

The film starts out with an epic car/train chase and a magnificently filmed drive off a cliff. And from there on it gets even better. Vin Diesel and Paul Walker want to rob a very bad man to teach him a lesson. They devise a plan, with a team of humorous good-natured types, to snatch an enormous safe containing millions of dollars. They do this with cars.

This is the type of plot that could have resulted in a shambles if left in the hands of a mediocre director such as Tony Scott (you wouldn’t be able to hear anything over the explosions) or the abominable filmmaker Michael Bay (he’d have men driving Megan Fox, not cars). But Justin Lin handles the action with slick panache and joyful flare, making the whole thing feel nothing less than exhilarating.

I wonder how long this series will keep going before it runs out of fuel (and an epilogue at the end, featuring Eva Mendes, suggests there’s another instalment waiting to be wheeled out of the showroom), but at the moment it’s firing on all cylinders. Give in and enjoy it to the full.

Fast Five (2011) is in cinemas now, distributed by Universal Pictures, certificate 12A.

Text © Barnaby Walter. Image © Universal Pictures

The BBFC on the 15 certificate given to 'Waking the Dead: Waterloo'

2011-05-30T05:21:00.000-07:00

Last month, I published a post about the content of an episode entitled ‘Waterloo’ from the BBC crime drama series Waking the Dead. In my article, I expressed concern about the two-part story receiving a 15 certificate from the British Board of Film Classification for its DVD release. I asked them why they deemed this episode suitable for 15-year-olds, as it contained horrific images of sexualised child torture. The BBFC said this in response:

Our classification decisions are carefully considered and, as you are aware, made in line with the available research evidence and our published Classification Guidelines. These Guidelines are a product of both experience and an extensive public consultation process which is repeated regularly. Over 8,700 people contributed to the most recent revision in 2009. These Guidelines are available on our main website - www.bbfc.co.uk

At '15', our Guidelines state that "no theme is prohibited, provided the treatment is appropriate for 15 year olds" and "violence may be strong but should not dwell on the infliction of pain or injury. The strongest gory images are unlikely to be acceptable".
It was recognised that the theme of this particular episode of the popular BBC police procedural drama would be quite distressing for some viewers. However, it was noted that in the flashback sequences in the 'torture chamber', the images of the young teenagers being tortured were often fleeting and impressionistic. In the more protracted scenes, such as the man being lowered into a tank of water or a gun being held to another's head, the impact is further reduced by the muted, often silent, audio and the jerky and out-of-focus camera work. There is a suggestion that the torture has a sexual element, but this never detailed or made overt. These difficult scenes are portrayed without sensation or any voyeuristic thrill. The violence does not reach the same level and detail as scenes in '18' rated works such as the SAW series. The audience's sympathies remain throughout with the victims. The scenes were well-contextualised within the narrative, conveying a sense of the horror experienced by those at the centre of the events. Audience's familiarity with the series was another factor taken into consideration with the TV show's gritty treatment of some difficult issues being a well-known element of the programme. The subject of child abuse and murder has been tackled before in other '15' rated works like CHANGELING and SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. Taking all these factors into consideration, it was judged that the treatment of such a disturbing subject fitted within our '15' standards. The issues, as you note, were clearly flagged in the Consumer Advice.
I hope this explains our decision to you. Thank you for taking the time and trouble to express your views to us.
Yours sincerely,

J L Green, Chief Assistant (Policy)

I am very grateful to the BBFC for writing such a detailed response to my queries, although I must say I still have concerns about their decision. They claim that the scenes involving the child torture are ‘portrayed without sensation or any voyeuristic thrill’. I would argue that the fact these scenes of torture of the helpless victims are illustrated at all shows up a degree of sensationalism or voyeurism. In the episode, which was broadcast on BBC One and is now available in a DVD boxset, the scene where Boyd and his team explore a torture chamber contains many graphic verbal references to the mechanics of some of the instruments used to torment the young victims. If it was left at this, in my opinion, the scene would not have been sensationalist and voyeuristic. But the scene went one step further – it depicted the torture in, as the BBFC say, ‘impressionistic’ flashbacks. This illustrating of the horror the young teenagers suffered at the hands of a sexual sadist is, in my view, sensationalist. I am not arguing it should be banned. I am not arguing the episode should not have been made. I am simply arguing that these scenes should have secured an 18 certificate.