Tag Archives: Daniel McCarthy

The Look of Love Film Review | Sundance London 2013

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the look of love filmIn an astonishingly versatile career that has lasted nearly two decades, British filmmaker Michael

Winterbottom has turned his hand to an astonishing amount of challenging and diverse output.

His work has strayed from fiction to factual, between comedy and drama and from light froth

to storms of controversy. His new film marks the fourth collaboration with comedian Steve

Coogan, their most notable so far being 24 Hour Party People, an excellent account of the

Manchester music scene of the late 70’s and early 80’s. Their subject matter this time around

is Paul Raymond, ‘The King Of Soho’, a notorious figure of the British media who starting in

the late 50’s built an empire from his ‘gentleman’s clubs’, pornography publications and real

estate properties to become the richest man in Britain, broke many taboos of the post-war era and

led an extravagant lifestyle both in and out of the public spotlight. Such a divisive and colorful

character seems almost tailor made for a tell all, illuminating biopic; a modern day King Midas

story. Citizen Kane by way of Boogie Nights if you will.

 

 

Soho, 1958: Paul Raymond (Coogan) along with his wife Jean (Anna Friel) open their

first ‘gentlemen’s club’ which allow it’s patrons access to displays of sexuality previously

unavailable due to British law. As the years pass, Raymond invests in multiple properties and

starts his own magazine publications which quickly make him one of the country’s wealthiest

men. However his rise to the top is littered with adversity and tragedy shown through the prism

of the other two key women in his life; Fiona Richmond (Tamsin Egerton), cover girl and

journalist for his Men Only Magazine and Debbie Raymond (Imogen Poots), his utterly devoted

and loving daughter who was destined to take over his empire.

 

 

Raymond’s excessive and colorful lifestyle was no secret to the public at large; he had an

uncanny knowledge of PR and treated his name like a brand. The Look Of Love certainly

succeeds at portraying this lavish and sordid empire in terrific detail. Costume and set designs

are beautifully rendered across the decades that the story spans and it’s quite remarkable that

with a fairly modest budget at the filmmakers disposal, the streets are Soho are convincingly

transformed to their period look. Cinematographer Hubert Taczanowski conjures up a stunning

look for the film. The early 50’s set monochrome sequences morph into a lurid, enticing color

scheme that practically drips off the screen and replicates the grainy film stock feel of the era

that thankfully doesn’t feel forced although a number of flashy edits and montage sequences feel

a tad overdone. Unfortunately it’s in discussing the brilliant visual aesthetic of the film that you

can’t help but notice it coming up shorthand in the emotional department.

 

 

Raymond’s life was not without it’s moments of heartbreak and tragedy and the film doesn’t

shy away from them. The problem is that for the majority of its running time it assumes the

veil of a bawdy, knockabout comedy breezing through the darker and more dubious aspects

of Raymond’s career without much time to absorb the morality or the lack of it. A scene

where he faces allegations that one of his clubs is being operated as a brothel is quite literally

blink and you miss it, as though the filmmakers are worried that you may start to dislike

this man. Montages whip past in a blur stopping to name drop many important events and

accomplishments of Raymond’s eventful life yet we rarely get any heft or scope of these events.

At it’s worst it almost resembles a live action Wikipedia biography page. It’s understandable that

the filmmakers would want to market the film to the widest possible audience by keeping the

appeal broad and the laughs coming. It’s certainly not without it’s funny moments and they are

their best when dark and scathing. The sight of Raymond giving his daughter a line of cocaine

to help her through labour elicits gasps and guffaws in equal measure. Yet the film revels in it’s

comic background to a sometimes overbearing degree. Cameos from the likes of Stephen Fry,

Dara O’Briain David Walliams and Matt Lucas (in a an uncanny portrayal of John Water’s

muse Divine) are distracting and many of them far too fleeting to have any major impact on the

narrative.

 

 

Then there is Coogan himself in the central role of Raymond. Coogan is an undeniable talent

and it can be a pleasure to see comedic actors broaden their range with more straight faced

fare. However as talented a performer as he is Coogan feels miscast in the role. One of the

key problems is that the spectre of his most famous creation, appalling self centred Norfolk

based DJ Alan Partridge, hangs over the performance. Many of Coogan’s mannerisms and

vocal inflections skirt very close to that of Partridge (look out for the scene where he coaches

his dancers through their moves) and it can’t help but pull you further out of the world the

filmmaker’s are clearly working very hard to create. It seems almost churlish to criticise Coogan

for being the gifted comic actor that he is but here the pitch of the performance jars badly, the

character is played so much for laughs that when we step into his darker moments there’s a

distinct lack of empathy. Fortunately many of the supporting performances raise the films game,

most notably from the trio of actresses who play the women of Raymond’s life. Anna Friel is

terrifically steely as Raymond’s first wife; a solid bedrock of support for her husband’s ventures

and she provides one of the genuinely raw moments of drama as their marriage falls apart.

Tamsin Egerton piles on the glamour but is no fool as Raymond’s pin up girlfriend. Imogen

Poots arguably steals the whole thing as Debbie Raymond, pulling off what on paper seems like

a character of contradictions; hedonistic and full of life yet fragile and achingly vulnerable. It’s

the scenes between father and daughter that stick in the mind and hint the most at Raymond’s

softer and more conventional family persona. It’s in these scenes that we perhaps get a clearer

picture of what the film was aiming for before the tone got muddled.

 

 

The Look Of Love is certainly no disaster but given Michael Winterbottom’s terrific range

and style this can’t help but feel incredibly conventional, underwhelming and perhaps only as

substantial as one of its protagonist’s glossy publications. A lot of razzle but not enough dazzle.

 

Stoker | Film Review

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StokerThe track record for foreign language filmmakers making their break in English language film is something of a mixed affair. For every Bernardo Bertolucci, Wim Wenders or Ang Lee there are a dozen who get seemingly lost in translation. Even the great Michael Haneke has fallen into this trap with a bizarrely pointless shot for shot remake of his own Funny Games. Now Park Chan-wook, the South Korean director behind The Vengeance Trilogy (Sympathy For Mr Vengeance, Oldboy and Lady Vengeance) heads to the US with Stoker, a contemporary gothic fairytale that despite a change of geography grapples with recurrent themes of his previous work such as crumbling family values, the havoc wreaked by long held secrets and the slow but inevitable lapse into extreme violence.

 

India Stoker (Mia Wasikowska) has her life turned upside down when her father is killed in a car accident on her eighteenth birthday. Living alone with her distant and brittle mother (Nicole Kidman), India’s sense of confusion and adolescent detachment is increased by the sudden arrival of her uncle Charlie (Matthew Goode) whom she never knew existed. Not long after he nestles himself into this shattered family unit, India realises that Charlie has an ulterior and chilling motive for his visit. Rather than horrify her however, it brings to light a side of herself she never knew she had…

 

With all the recent talk of Alfred Hitchcock, both in press and on our screens, Stoker may appear at first to be some sort of astonishingly well timed homage. The basic storyline has been compared to that of Shadow Of A Doubt, in which a mysterious uncle’s arrival (also named Charlie ) also brings dark reckoning to a distant family. One of Hitchcock’s most memorable bits of advice on filmmaking was to ‘film your murders like love scenes and your love scenes like murders’.  It’s advice that Chan-wook has taken very much to heart in all of his work and here is no exception. Whatever you think of Stoker’s macabre and graphic tone there is no denying that it is beautifully crafted to within an inch of its life. Chan-wook’s camera glides effortlessly through through the sparse, lavish yet ominous surroundings of the Stokers’ rural estate where he and regular cinematographer Chung Chung -hoon conjure up colours and shadows that enthrall as well as frighten. There are several stunning edits littered throughout the film most notably between a set of children’s shoes that reduce in size to show the passing of time and strands of combed hair morphing into weeds. When it comes to the bloodletting that has occurred throughout his films, Chan-wook knows exactly when to hold back and when to confront. It is not so much the graphic depiction of violence that unsettles (most of the death actually takes place off screen) but rather the mere suggestion of it and the effect it has on the characters. Perhaps the most lurid (and controversial) scene cuts back and forth between the moment of a murder and a moment of sexual awakening. Rather than seem like cheap titillation it marks a arresting point of no return for the central character. It is one of the more bold and confrontational  moments that the script throws out to us. If there is a central flaw to accuse Stoker of it is that the script by Wentworth Miller (originally writing under a pseudonym to distract from his Prison Break fame) does not throw up as many curveballs in the narrative that we expect from previous films by Chan-wook or the many paths we seem to be being led down at the films opening. The more ambiguous tones strike as unsettling but many are revealed to be nothing but elaborate window dressing and the climactic big reveal feels forced and something of a let down after everything that has preceded it. It doesn’t help that it can’t hold a candle to Oldboy’s jaw dropping denouement. Some may attack Stoker for being a triumph of style over substance. Though certainly not a claim without argument, we should be happy that the style is as assured as it is.

 

Whilst the narrative may have its flaws, it is thankfully  the characters and performances that truly stick in the memory. Mia Wasikowska does a fantastic job of not only credibly passing for a teenager (often a major flaw of adults portraying younger characters) but making India’s slow but sinister transformation believable. With jet black hair and a seemingly permanent set frown borrowed from Wednesday Adams,  India could have easily lapsed in a comical caricature of adolescent torment but Wasikowska has the talent and conviction to turn it round into something both affecting and frightening. Nicole Kidman is a beautiful yet haunting presence as India’s mother, seemingly on a permanent knife edge between fragile grief in the wake of her husbands death or cautious glee at his brother’s youthful, charming energy. A single take monologue filmed in extreme close up late on in the drama where she rallies against her wasted opportunities and her disappointment in raising a child throbs with a tragic rage. Matthew Goode is a revelation as Uncle Charlie playing it straight like a more assured, sexually confident take on Norman Bates. The moment he appears on screen he immediately strikes you with handsome looks and expressive eyes whilst still managing to make the blood chill. His Charlie stands as a potential saviour to India’s lost little girl but never ceases to ooze malice with every single gaze. It takes a lot of talent to be frightening whilst doing very little and Goode simply excels at it.

 

Whether or not Chan-wook  will continue to make films in America remains to be seen. It is refreshing to see a director move outside of their comfort zone and have some (if not complete) success. Had Stoker been helmed by a more mainstream and unadventurous filmmaker then it’s flaws may very well have increased tenfold. Though the violent flourishes (and live octopus eating) have been toned down, Chan-wook has taken a well worn genre piece and enlivened it with an energetic and pleasingly edgy vibe. Many may find the films full on macabre inflictions overbearing, others will find them intoxicating. Whichever side you come down on, it’s certainly never boring.

 

 

Zero Dark Thirty Film Review

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News travels fast and the arts, arguably, just as fast. It seems that little time passes between major news, political and cultural events occurring and their portrayal in mainstream media. At time of writing a Julian Assange movie is well into production and Bradley Cooper has just been cast as disgraced cyclist Lance Armstrong. Barely eighteen months have passed since the death of Osama Bin Laden and now Kathryn Bigelow’s thriller about the hunt for the Al-Qaeda leader arrives on these shores amidst both critical adulation and a storm of controversy. Bigelow was already well into production on a project about the failed hunt for Bin Laden when real world events forced a rapid change of focus for the film. Hopes were high following her historic Oscar win for Iraq war thriller The Hurt Locker. Can her return to familiar theatre hold up to scrutiny?

 

Following the September 11 attacks, newly recruited CIA operative Maya (Jessica Chastain) is deployed to Pakistan where she joins a covert team dedicated to seeking out Osama Bin Laden’s couriers in the hope it will lead to his location. The narrative then follows Maya and her colleagues across a grueling decade of dead ends, shifting political landscapes, assassination attempts and haunted obsession before arriving at the inevitable outcome of May 2nd 2011.

 

Bigelow is a master of crafting a tough, machismo drenched world through her camera lens. Her past work has traded in different genres and protagonists from different walks of life. Her aesthetic here is similar to that of The Hurt Locker; lots of handheld camerawork, extended close ups and disoriented framing have a powerful culmanitive effect. What’s fascinating this time round is how much of the drama she chooses to show through screens within the frame. The protagonists of Zero Dark Thirty are shown poring over lengthy intelligence data, hours of interrogation footage, news reports of major terrorist attacks and the frighteningly familiar overhead sights of CIA drones. A good chunk of the final raid is viewed through the first person viewpoint of the SEAL’s night vision goggles. Where The Hurt Locker and films before it portrayed a war fought on the ground side by side with the ‘grunts’, Zero Dark Thirty portrays a unique 21st century attitude towards combat. This is  a war fought through intelligence, data and statistics. It is a cold and stark view that matches our 24 hour media mainlined view of contemporary warfare. That’s not to say that the film branches out in all directions; political figureheads are glimpsed briefly and major events (Invasion of Iraq, Obama’s election) are alluded to but never directly mentioned. There’s a cool and clinical air of detachment over the proceedings.

 

Without a backstory or even a surname, the central character of Maya is presented to us as a decidedly single minded individual with little to no life outside her hunt for Bin Laden. A child’s hand drawing reading ‘Mommy’ is glimpsed but never brought up and she shoots down all questions about her private life from colleagues. Such a portrayal could be viewed as unengaging but a fierce performance from Chastain makes it anything but. Pale, ethereal and with a thousand yard stare Chastain dominates every scene she’s in, her evolution from rookie to veteran wholly believable. While there is a whole other ideology hanging over the films head, it is also possible to see one aspect that attracted Bigelow to this specific take on the story. Maya is one of few female characters in the film operating in what is seen as a  predominantly male environment (read:Hollywood) and she spends just as much time butting heads with her colleagues than she does hunting her prey. ‘I’m the motherfucker who found him’ she cooly intones to a room full of indecisive superiors in what is probably the closest the film comes to a ‘victory’ moment. In many ways Maya’s journey reminded me of David Fincher’s superb Zodiac, another exhaustive, fictionalized account of the hunt for one individual and the havoc it wreaks on those who search for him.

 

Anyone heading into see Zero Dark Thirty will be no doubt aware of the controversy surrounding its alleged depiction of torture of detainees and the suggestion that such methods worked and led to Bin Laden. American senators have written letters to the production company criticising such a depiction whilst author Naomi Wolf wrote a scathing article comparing Bigelow to Nazi propaganda filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl. Certainly Bigelow and script writer Mark Boal do not shy away from the fact that ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’ occurred at American forces hands and the opening scenes showing a detainee being stripped, humiliated and waterboarded are horrifying to watch. However the film portrays the brutalisation of detainees yielding no or useless information. It is when the characters re-examine existing evidence that they eventually wind up on the road to Bin Laden’s compound. I personally don’t agree that the film condones torture and prefer such a brutal stark portrayal to that of the likes of 24 where Jack Bauer’s relentless torture of characters become both repetitive and repellent. I certainly won’t pretend to be smarter than anyone making the allegations; I would point out Alex Gibney’s article on the film which though I disagree with it he argues his points very well. However I would point out the argument of torture being effective (and in turn accusations of condoning American violence) is largely undone by the cold, blunt delivery of the films finale. Bin Laden is finally killed practically offscreen in front of screaming women and children with no triumphant ‘got him!’ moment. The first thing the SEAL’s do when the deed is done? Take pictures with a camera to confirm the kill. More distancing through a digital screen.

 

There’s no ‘ra-ra’ patriot message to end on. The narrative ends hours before Bin Laden’s death is made public. No footage of celebrations in Times Square, rather Bigelow chooses to end on an image that suggests that the decade long mission has brought nothing but a Pyrrhic victory. Maya’s quarry finally caught, her life is practically over. Many may feel differently and either way it is no easy watch. But Bigelow has created a never less than compelling , astonishingly well made thriller which dodges the cliches it could have fallen into and shines a light where similar films have rarely gone. However you feel about that is completely up to you.

 

 

Killing Them Softly | Film Review

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Five years have passed since Australian filmmaker Andrew Dominik and Brad Pitt united for the magnificent Western drama The Assassination Of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford; a lyrical, revisionist take on what by all accounts had become an American legend. It was gorgeous, poetic and fell flat on it’s on its face at the box-office. The studio simply had no idea how to go about pitching it and it was left to die, the genius gone unsung. Now Dominik has picked himself up, teamed up with Mr Pitt once again and returned to a far more recent moment of American history; the economic downturn viewed through the prism of organised crime. Whilst not hitting the heights of their previous collaboration they have crafted a stark, powerful take on a genre that we think we know inside out and give it an astonishingly contemporary sheen.

It’s 2008. The economy is crumbling, Obama and McCain are gathering their supporters and two clueless street hoods (Scoot McNairy and Ben Mendelsohn) are roped into a raid on a mob protected card game. It’s run by Markie Trattman (Ray Liotta) who has already escaped punishment from criminal overlords for organising a heist on his own games. The plan is for Markie to take the fall for the raid second time round but due to the duo’s own incompetence they are soon pursued by Jackie Cogan (Pitt), a hitman sent to exact justice and restore order.  He has a very specific work ethic; he likes to keep his distance from his targets in order to avoid emotions getting in the way. He refers to this as ‘killing them softly.’ He decides to hire old colleague Mickey Finn (James Gandolfini) to help him adhere to this method, yet this proves to prove more challenging than he can imagine.

Dominik is working from a 1974 novel entitled Cogan’s Trade penned by George V. Higgins. The film retains a stark, minimalist visual tone that recalls the high watermark crime films of the seventies such as The French Connection and Scorpio. It’s a story that takes place in vacant lots, motel rooms and car parks bathed in grey, cold light. It is an environment that feels left behind by the modern world and that we don’t often see in mainstream American cinema. In certain shots, the desolate wasteland resembles something out of a sci-fi apocalyptic vision. Dominik keeps his directorial flourishes to a minimum favouring stationary camera angles and carefully choreographed tracking shots to balletic displays of violence though he does concede to one hauntingly beautiful shootout in the rainfall. Not that any of it is pretty; this is a film where death and violence is an ugly, horrific spectacle. Dominik contrasts such moments perfectly with an uncanny feel for the timing and pitch of each individual scene. His prowess as a writer is the primary one on display though. The action is driven by lengthy, dialogue heavy scenes where in the characters confront the unpleasantness and banal mundanity of their profession. The major factor of the adaptation is the running references to the economic meltdown of the time and the then optimistic promises of the Obama administration. Speeches and news broadcasts that have barely had time to pass into history seep through radio and television broadcasts in the background of crucial scenes.  This does come close to becoming repetitive and forceful yet it instils the narrative with a moral backbone that many of its characters lack and forms a crucial part of what elevates the film from being a run of the mill gangster drama to a scathing critique of capitalist greed. The will of the powerful is broken, and it is left for the people on street level to pick up the pieces and clear up the mess.

Gangsters and hitmen tend to be the sort of characters that are romanticized in the majority of crime cinema that we are exposed to so it’s tremendously fresh to see them presented as repellent, incompetent bringers of their own fates. Pitt is a performer who seems to be getting better and better with age and here Dominik has coaxed another career best from him.  His Jackie Cogan may appear more suave and charming than his counterparts; he strolls onto screen with slicked back hair, a leather jacket and shades to die for and to the sounds of Johnny Cash yet he is thoroughly amoral and brutal.  Scenes where he quietly threatens a local hood at a bar whilst contemplating the hypocrisy of America’s founding fathers positively throb with underlying menace.  He is simply an electrifying presence. McNairy and Mendelsohn excel at making two seemingly irredeemable screw-ups sympathetic for the majority of the running time. If there’s one performance that steals the film however, it’s Gandolfini. Shuffling onto screen with a hangdog expression, immovable sunglasses and the weight of the world on his shoulders, the onetime Tony Soprano gives a tour de force presenting a onetime respected New York mobster as a shambling, train wreck of a man drowning in a sea of alcohol and prostitutes. Scenes where he rails against the younger generation whilst exhibiting the excess and degradation that a life of crime has inflicted upon him echo with grim, comic tragedy that relish in the destruction of typically macho, masculine persona. As with past films of Dominik’s there are virtually no female characters to speak of and when they are spoken of it’s in the most deplorable ways imaginable. I don’t think it’s a fault on his part but rather an apt reflection of a thuggishly brutal world were desperate men struggle to climb over one another to stay afloat.

Killing Them Softly may come on quite strong at moments but it ultimately emerges as refreshingly cynical, relevant thriller that sticks to its guns right through to its brutally honest final line. Hopefully on the basis of this, we will not have to wait so long for Dominik’s next effort.

 

The Expendables 2 Film Review

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Much fuss was made over The Expendables – a balls-out, high-octane, no-nonsense shoot ‘em up that Sylvester Stallone nurtured to the big screen. It was a lot of fun, and pulled together three Goliath’s of the action world (Stallone, Schwarzenegger and Willis) along with a handful of other action giants, both past and present.  Its success meant that The Expendables 2 was inevitable.

 

Along with the original ‘Expendables’ (Sylvester Stallone, Jason Statham, Jet Li, Dolph Lundgren, Randy Couture and Terry Crews) Stallone has more hired guns in the mix for the second outing. Liam Hemsworth joins the Expendables crew, Jean-Claude Van Damme is on villain duty, and a seventy-something Chuck Norris is thrown in for good measure.

 

Unfortunately, it would seem less can indeed sometimes be more.  Whilst the first film seemed like a genuine hark back to something lost; an old-skool actioner with some old-skool actioniers, The Expendables 2 reeks of ‘for-the-hell-of-it’ laziness. The first treated the teaming up of Stallone, Schwarzenegger and Willis as a momentous occasion and played it cool. Their fleeting on-screen trio – the first EVER – was played with a serious hand (as serious as one can expect) with only a slight nod to the audience. Action took the front seat in that film (action and ultra violence, which fans of the 2008 Rambo will attest to).

 

For this reviewer however, The Expendables 2 has lost its trump card and gone for the cobbled-together, self reverential name dropping road and left all the good, old-skool action behind. Don’t get me wrong, there is action. The opening 20 minutes is as good as it gets. But with only a few more exceptions the action is not only not as plentiful as I would have liked but also not as brutal and ridiculously OTT as the first. Jet Li (an undeniable legend) gives a bunch of goons a cooking lesson they won’t forget, but quickly disappears off-screen for the remainder of the film! Statham, it cannot be denied, is a remarkable martial artist and his action sequences are crisp, violent and precise. In fact Statham is also by far the best actor among the Expendable crowd and were it not for him they would be left following Stallone who unfortunately just looks waaaaaaay to old for this sh*t. Schwarzenegger and Willis (the latter of which can also act, but seems to have forgotten) is laughable (not in a good way) and at points cringe worthy.  Every scene with them oozes self parody, with trademark lines being cheapened, hung, drawn and quartered like never before. Oh, and Chuck Norris pops up for no apparent reason and shoots a load of nameless henchmen. Then does the same again later. Fortunately his beard covers the fact that he is also, unfortunately too old for this sh*t. There is also a Chinese woman who is involved in some way, but her acting is so unforgivably bad at times that I wondered if she may have been on work experience. I can’t actually remember what she did in the film except that she was somehow ‘important’ to the story, my brain must have attempted to eradicate her memory from my head.

 

This leaves us with Van Damme. It may come as a surprise to some – although not those who witnessed his performance in JCVD (2008) – but the muscles from Brussels can act. His performance is – along with ‘The Stath’s’ – the best in the film by a country mile. He delivers his lines with natural menace and adds a real villain to an otherwise empty shell of a film. It is thanks to him and Jason Statham that the film is watchable beyond the first 20 minutes. Sure he breaks out the spin-kicks in the show-down but c’mon, there would be uproar were he not to.

 

The Director Simon West (most notable for Con Air in 1997) does his best with the poor script and ludicrous amount of characters to crowbar into the 100+ minutes run time, but it ends up feeling like words, scenes and characters have been shoved into the Lotto’s Lancealot Machine with set of balls number 2 and given a good going over, only to be poured onto the screen like the contents of an un-drained washing machine.

 

Word on the street (the internet street) has it that number 3 has been given a greenlight, with additional names like Harrison Ford and Nicholas Cage being bandied around by publicity types. Whether this will add more gravitas (try not to laugh) to The Expendables 3 or whether or not they are simply yet more names to try to cram inside a 90 minute window with integrity-destroying consequences is yet to be seen.  Thank God the true, un-paralleled master Bruce Lee isn’t alive to be dragged dragon-kicking and screaming into what unfortunately seems to this reviewer to be a sad misfire of an action film-wannabe.

 

P.S – Jackie Chan, please don’t take any calls from Stallone’s agent. I beg you.

Total Recall Film Review

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Remake? Reboot? Re-Imagining? Whatever the adjective, this Colin Farrell lead ‘re-doing’ of a Philip K. Dick short story (We Can Remember It For You Wholesale, first published in 1966) has been done before in 1990 with Arnold Schwarzenegger as the lead and Paul Verhoeven lensing. That film acclaimed cult status. And for good reason.

 

In this Len Wiseman (Die Hard 4.0, Underworld) outing Colin Farrell plays the lead character Douglas Quaid who discovers he may or may not be something other than an ordinary, working class Joe in a late 21st century, post chemical-warfare world of multi-stacked urban levels, Minority-Report-esque (also a Dick adaptation) mag-cars and plush, ‘United Federation of Britain’ megalopolises. No expense spared on the visuals, that’s for sure.

 

However. Yes, there was bound to be a however, and for this reviewer it was a big one. The story of Total Recall, We Can Remember It For You….whatever version you are ingesting into your brain-box from whichever medium, benefits from the unknown. The trump card is that you never quite know what is real and what isn’t. At its core the story is about the nature of self. What makes us, us. Our memories? Well what if our memories can be cooked up in a lab, or on a computer with software (or, as the Matrix (1999) showed us, with hard wiring into the brain in a sticky amniotic sack filled with pink lube – more on The Matrix later). Would falsified memories make us still us, or would we be someone else? Unfortunately, if you have seen Paul Verhoeven’s film, you may well know most of these answers already. And that is a real shame. Every ounce of suspense, every scene that hinges on the is-he, isn’t-he dynamic, is redundant. We’ve been here before, and quite frankly the gritty charm of Verhoeven’s outing was far more seductive for this reviewer. Everything seems way too familiar…only, not. I heard tell during hype-time that this outing was ‘closer to the source material’. Not a remake, but another go at the short story. Where I heard that I cannot say and whether it was from ‘official’ sources I do not know. Fact is, it isn’t. It’s Arnie’s story all over again with some superficial and aesthetic changes to give the impression (to the impressionable) that this is something new and shiny. There’s no Mars. No mutants. And if I’m painfully honest, no heart. Even the bits that weren’t in the 1990 film were obvious in their outcome from the get-go.

 

What Arnie lacks in acting ability he makes up for in brawn, screen presence and raw charisma. Farrell might not have the brawn (though an action man he can still be) but he has the acting chops. Unfortunately he left them at home for this one. The phrase ‘a phoned-in performance’ doesn’t quite cut it. I think he emailed this one direct to Wiseman. Jessica Biel and Kate Beckinsale give it their all. This reviewer got the distinct impression that whilst they were doing their best in a BIG, big-screen performance, Farrell – who let’s be honest is an established, A-List actor at the top of his game – didn’t have much investment in the character and was probably paid a bottomless pit of cold, hard cash for the role.

 

The familiarity with this film didn’t stop at the story either. There were scenes which far too closely resembled Blade Runner, Minority Report (both possibly forgiven as the source material for both was also Philip K. Dick) Star Wars: Episode 2, Escape From New York, The Matrix….to name a few. Even the (few) scenes exploring the philosophy of self which came so effortlessly to Verhoeven’s 1990 film seemed lifted straight from Morpheus’ mouth from The Matrix.

It was a spectacle for sure, but that’s a given in this day and age. Worth a watch? Perhaps. It’s difficult not to draw parallels to the original film, I wish it were. I had hoped this would be a fresh take on the story which stood alone as a worthy interpretation of Dick’s 1966 short. The visuals certainly gave that impression, but that really is where the differences end. Similarities must be drawn, because quite frankly it seemed to be a rehash of the same story. Which begs the question, why make it at all?? (Oh yeah, vast box office takings……silly me).

Moonrise Kingdom | Film Review

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It’s 1965, and we’re on New Penzance Island off the cost of New England. The turbulence of the nation is far away, there’s a storm on the horizon and young love is in the air which has the adults in a fit. This island is the latest whimsical destination of Wes Anderson, the pin up director of commercially successful American independent cinema who has built a loyal fan base since the late 1990s with one of the most unique and recognisable styles in mainstream cinema today.

On said island Anderson introduces us to young Khaki scout Sam and intelligent yet isolated Suzy (newcomers Jared Gilman and Kara Haywood), two twelve year olds who meet by chance and instantly fall for one another. Hated by his fellow scouts, Sam has no hesitation in stealing several camping supplies, quitting the troop and absconding with Suzy who insists on bringing a record player, a Francoise Hardy LP and her collection of science fiction novels. Suzy’s unhappily married parents (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand) are furious and join in the search party led by sad sack Police Captain Sharp (Bruce Willis) and Scout leader Randy Ward (Edward Norton). Time may not be on their side however as the ominous shadows of a hurricane and ‘Social Services’ () bare down upon New Penzance…

From the very opening we clearly are in ‘Wes World’. A gorgeous tracking shot through the elaborate set of Suzy and her family’s home highlights many if not all of Anderson’s directorial flourishes. The very particular framing of the camera and its movement, the positioning of actors and their props, the autumnal colour scheme and frequent overhead shots of hands and key items have defined his style over seven films. I also really admired the incredibly retro titles which even have the traditional serial number beneath the title. His understanding of mise-en-scene (‘what’s in the frame’ for the film buffs) is immediately recognisable and marks him out as one of the few directors working today whom you could instantly recognise from a single frame and Moonrise Kingdom is no exception. His critics accuse him of being to forced in his style and becoming an obstruction to the narrative yet I personally applaud a director who is able to make a film that is clearly their own and can be recognised as a true auteur in the industry.

Anderson is also highly regarded for his skill at marshalling ensemble casts and here he has amassed yet another fine one. Bruce Willis and Edward Norton have a lot of fun subverting their typical ‘dark’ image with fine take on desperate, straight man against the world vibe and it is the former who has the most fun in the role. It could be seen that Willis is deliberately referencing to his back catalogue since he is playing a police officer yet he seems to be playing more to his skills as a comedic actor in the days before Die Hard. The sight of him roaming around the landscape in a beat up station wagon with a bad toupee and Hank Williams crooning away on the soundtrack makes it hard to suppress a chuckle. Previous Anderson stalwarts Bill Murray and Jason Schwartzman tackle their material well and prove further to be the perfect foil for the dry, witty humour. I wish the same could be said for the female performers of the story. Frances McDormand is a brilliant actress and always a joy to watch yet here the role of Suzy’s mother she is not given enough material to form a satisfactory character arc; a sub plot involving an extramarital affair is wrapped up with a mere shrug. Also the magnificent Tilda Swinton is introduced a bit too late into the story to create a fully convincing antagonistic force though I couldn’t help but giggle every time she referred to herself in the third person as ‘Social Services’.

Thankfully it is in its key casting that Moonrise Kingdom truly scores. As the young couple, Gilman and Haywood are simply fantastic and carry the entire film effortlessly. At first their actions appear hopelessly naive yet this is undercut with genuine pathos of young love. There is a deliberate attempt on behalf of the writers to juxtapose the simplicity of their courtship against the dour complexity of the adults of the island. The films setting at a time when this part of America had not yet experienced the turbulent times that would reverberate through the nation’s history is offset with quaint and quiet charm that is genuinely beguiling and in the case of the young love story, quite moving. There is a yearning for a way of American life that simply does not exist today and there is a constant air of slight melancholy running throughout. As the social outcasts discover surprising truths about one another, Anderson focuses on the minuet details of their romance that steadily grow on you and pay off very well indeed.

His critics may complain, but Wes Anderson fans will be on cloud nine with this one and with good reason. With his typically assured style and charm and wit to spare, this easily stands amongst his best work. I personally cannot wait to see what he does next and will always be first in line to enter ‘Wes World’…

The Raid | Film Review

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A few years ago, Welsh filmmaker Gareth Evans admits he was slipping into docile conformity. Having made a few well received shorts and a self financed feature, he was losing his interest in filmmaking and easing into his 9 to 5 job. His supportive wife passed his name forward to producers in Indonesia who were looking for outside filmmakers to make a documentary about martial arts. Fast forward a few years and a trip to Indonesia and he is now the leading force behind one of the most hyped and critically acclaimed action thrillers of recent years and with good cause. Lean, mean and apocalyptically violent, The Raid has come straight out of Asia’s left field to huge acclaim on the festival circuit and is set to be a genuine international crossover hit.

Rama (Iko Uwais) is a rookie SWAT officer in Jakarta who joins an elite team assigned to launch an assault on a crumbling apartment complex ruled over by ruthless drug lord Tama (Ray Sahetapy). No assertions are made about good/bad guy from the off. Rama is introduced bidding farewell to his pregnant wife promising to return, Tama executing kneeling prisoners with a hammer. The team head into the building to take him out of business for good yet things do not go to plan. Tama has rented out the majority of apartments to the cities vilest thugs, junkies and killers and has them dispatched after the team. Outnumbered and outgunned, it’s up to Rama to lead as many of his teammates to safety as possible. This however cannot be achieved without shooting/hitting/stabbing dozens of bad guys in the face…

Taking place almost entirely within the confines of the complex defined by its rotting, yellowish hue the proceedings are astonishingly claustrophobic throughout the 100 minute duration. There is always the constant threat attack from a corner or any one of the dozen flat doors on each floor. Even in its ‘quiet’ moments there is an underlying level of tension that never truly relents. Many scenes feel like a more pumped up version of John Carpenter’s seminal 70’s siege thriller Assault On Precinct 13. From the opening scene we are thrown right into the situation feet running on the ground. It’s a work of sparse immediacy, knowing exactly what it is and getting it done. Needless to say when the chaos starts the events are unremitting; gunfire echoes become deafening, bad guys come like space invaders sometimes literally bursting from walls, ceilings and floors to be swotted away by our heroes. As the action becomes hand to hand combat, the fight scenes flurry past with such violent ferocity and pace that it becomes overwhelming at many points.

Uwais is an astonishing physical presence; punching, kicking, jumping and smashing his way from floor to floor and doing away with constant foes coming at him like waves of video game enemies before facing down the inevitable ‘boss’ battles. He is proficient in the art of silat, Indonesia’s native martial arts and the experience of seeing it for the first time is breathtaking. The visceral joy of watching Uwais in action reminded me of the first time I saw Thai superstar Tony Jaa in Ong-Bak and his brutal kickboxing fighting style. Barely five minutes pass without bones splintering and the audience wincing in unison (especially during an inspired use for a shard of broken lighting fixture…). Uwais moves are perfectly complemented by Evans deft choreography. In an age of whiplash camera moves and frenetic editing that makes things harder and harder to follow, Evans deserves special credit for keeping the action paced yet never to the point where he loses his players movements. His camera races down hallways with characters and in some bravura moments: follows his characters as they drop through holes in the floor and tumbling down a staircase whilst still trading blows with someone.

Whilst revelling in the chaotic glory of what The Raid delivers, you do have to keep in mind that it is treading ground that has been walked on before. Evans has happily admitted his influences in press for the film and his execution is what truly makes it stand out. Yet the clichés of the genre are impossible to ignore and when they begin to tip into melodrama it does regrettably stall the film. Without giving anything away, there is a subplot involving one of Tama’s henchmen (Donny Alamsyah) that upon its revealing does just not ring and does briefly threaten to bring all proceedings to a shuddering halt. It feels almost unfair to try and criticise a film for attempting some form of character development yet here it falls flat and feels forced. In its defence, it may be setting up for the planned sequel and it does lead to the films brutal, brilliant final confrontation with Rama’s right hand man played by Yayan Ruhian, also one of the films fight chorographer, who truly gives Uwais a run for his money. There’s no satisfying pay off for Rama’s subplot itself. There is much dialogue alluding to police corruption and ties between them and the drug lord yet if anything it just fuels stock cliché dialogue between the many fight scenes. The final climactic set-piece can’t help but feel frustratingly ant-climatic.

However these are minor quibbles against a film that knows where its strengths lie and what its audience have come to see. It’s brutal, fast, and hits you like a blast of fresh air in the face. Evans and his team have managed to come out of nowhere and outdo the majority of Western action films of recent years. Of course an English language remake has already been green lit but I severely doubt it can come close to hitting the sheer adrenalin rush of the genuine article. Savour this one while you can, and take a deep breath first.